Following a brief break and a series of false starts that resulted in a collection of abandoned Chapter 1s, I settled on a new story, which turned into two books, and may eventually result in a third (fourth, fifth?). My goal is to release the first, entitled The First World Problems of Jason Van Otterloo, this summer. Jason is 15, going on 16, and still waiting for his parents to grow up. The story is set in 2003 and told entirely through online exchanges with friends. I'll describe it as The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole meets Nick Hornby's Slam. (Not sure what the Venn diagram of readers for that combo looks like. Anyone else in the intersection with me?)
I'm currently on the nth round of revisions, with at least one more pass to come. I'm still toying with releasing both books together, but the longer things drag out, the more I rethink that.
If you'd like to be the first to know when they are available, please sign up for my email list. I promise, I do not spam. I only send messages when I have something significant to announce (which as you might guess from the fact it's been three years since the last book came out, isn't all that often).
In the meantime, if you want a taste of what's to come, here's the first ~2,000 words of The First World Problems of Jason Van Otterloo. (It's not divided into chapters, which should make sense once you read it.)
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 21, 2003, 7:43 p.m.
Subject: Why me?
Drew, man, wish you weren’t in
Cali right now. I really need to get the hell out of here. They never let up
anymore. Janice just launched a spoon rest at Rob, the one I made in pottery
class with the duck painted on it. Somehow he caught it. It’s a miracle he even
saw it coming. He’s been out in the garage bingeing all afternoon. Typical
Saturday, except this time I have nowhere to go. If your sister hadn’t stayed
home I’d break into your house just to get some peace.
They try to send each other
messages through me, but I don’t pass most of them on. Grow up, already, morons.
For real. Not a great advertisement for getting married. I’m going to stay a
bachelor and just live in a little apartment somewhere above a coffee house. I
found a new one in Greenwood we can try when you get back called the Perky Mug.
Not as pretentious as that one last week. That chick was an 11 on the
bitch-o-meter, for sure. Like no one’s ever asked her if their beans are fair
trade before. Whatever.
Let me know what the Chico
scene is like. If I have to deal with much more of this I might hop a Greyhound
and meet you down on the beach. Later.
From: Andrew Dier
To: Jason Van Otterloo
Sent: June 21, 2003, 9:06 p.m.
Subject: RE: Why me?
Which beach would that be?
We’re three hours from the ocean. There’s a creek about a mile from my
grandma’s that you can throw rocks in from the overpass. Will that do you?
Sorry about your parents.
Anything good playing at the Grand Illusion tomorrow? You could probably go for
the matinee and camp out until closing. Terry wouldn’t care. Might not even
notice.
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 21, 2003, 9:21 p.m.
Subject: RE: Why me?
No can do on the Grand
Illusion. They’re doing the Grease double feature again. Once was already once
too many for me. I might cruise down to the U-District or something. Somewhere
not here, for sure. And it’s worse now than before, if that’s even humanly possible.
They’ve gone quiet so I can’t even keep track of where they are. I like to
know, so I can stay out of their way. Last I saw of Rob, he was camped out on
the back deck, building a wall out of empty beer cans. Janice was into the ice
wine on the couch, watching Ocean’s
Eleven for the 400th time. They’re probably both passed out by now.
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 21, 2003, 9:44 p.m.
Subject: RE: Why me?
Update: At least one of them’s
awake. And if I really heard what I think I just heard, they just redecorated
the bathroom with their stomach. I am not cleaning it up this time. Forget it.
Why can’t I have normal parents like everyone else?
I’m thinking of finding a job
and saving up so I can move out.
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Michael Beard
Sent: June 22, 2003, 5:51 p.m.
Subject: Job
Mike, I’ve been thinking about
it and I’d be up for that landscaping job if you guys still need someone. Can
you let me know ASAP? I’m kind of desperate to earn some dough.
Say Hi to Aunt Rosie, for me,
btw. I think she called earlier today, but Dad was working in the garage and
Mom was out.
Thanks, Jason
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 22, 2003, 6:08 p.m.
Subject: Brutal
It was Janice rocking the bowl
last night. Quelle surprise. Her hair was crusted with spitup this morning at
breakfast. Well, if you can call 11:30 breakfast. She rolled into the kitchen
in her flannel robe and yellow slippers, clutching her head and mumbling about
Saint Monica. That was my first clue she was hungover. She only gets religious
when the room starts to spin on her. Well, maybe I should say it was my second
clue. Any time she sleeps past 11 I figure she’s snoozing one off. And then the
vomit in her hair is a bit of a giveaway. So third clue, maybe? Whatever. She
goes from promising God she’ll never drink again to cursing at the coffee
machine midsentence. She would have smashed the carafe if I hadn’t pointed out
she never poured any water into the top. She guzzles two mugs, then leaves the
room, pukes again in the downstairs bathroom—without closing the door—then
comes back and pours another cup and lights a cigarette. In the house! That was
my cue to depart. I was halfway down the street before I remembered I didn’t
have any money on me. Doubled back, swiped a 20 from her purse, and left again.
Speaking of drunks and
derelicts, the bus stop was absolutely teeming with them. I stood half a block
down until I saw the bus coming. I sat up front near the driver in one of the
sideways seats, hoping no one else would sit nearby, but just my luck some old
lady with bulging pants like she had a diaper on sat right next to me, even
though there was another seat open right across the aisle. She smelled like
urine, too, but more like cat urine than human. Probably some of both, I bet. I
got off at the first U-District stop and walked the rest of the way just to get
some fresh air. On the way, I ordered a wrap from that Japanese-Greek fusion
truck. Total fail. The olives and the fish clashed horribly. And cilantro?
Where does that even fit in? It’s like they were just clearing out leftover
ingredients over the weekend.
I spent most of the afternoon
browsing books and records. Bought a slightly battered copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
and a couple of old Bowie singles on vinyl. On the bus home I found an AA
brochure. Serendipity? I left it on the kitchen counter. Maybe one of them will
take the hint.
I emailed my cousin Mike about
a landscaping gig with him for the summer. He makes pretty good scratch. That
would be sweet.
Oh, hey, I saw a poster outside
The Varsity for An American Werewolf in
London. It’s playing Friday night at 9:05. Can I assume we’re going?
From: Andrew Dier
To: Jason Van Otterloo
Sent: June 22, 2003, 10:33 p.m.
Subject: RE: Brutal
As I have not yet mastered time
travel, I regret to inform you you’re on your own Friday night. We’re not
leaving until Saturday.
Nice haul on the Bowie. We
passed a promising looking record shop on the way back from dinner tonight, out
by the college. At least, it had a huge Buzzcocks poster in the window, which
seems like a good sign. I’m going to hitch a ride with my grandpa Tuesday when
he goes in. He only teaches one class a week during the summer.
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 22, 2003, 10:59 p.m.
Subject: RE: Brutal
Saturday? Why did I think you
guys were coming back on Thursday? Didn’t you say you were staying six days at
your Grandma’s? I’m going to have to hit up Bick and see if I can escape over
there for a bit. His mom kind of wigs me out, though. I get the feeling she doesn’t
like me, like somehow I’m a corrupting influence on her angelic son. If she
ever found out what he did in the cafeteria she might not hold him in such high
esteem. Then again, she’d probably blame me for suggesting it. I never thought
he’d actually do it. Once Ranjit
offered him $20 there was no talking him out of it.
Stop the presses: Janice made
dinner tonight. If you can count boiling pierogies as cooking. She looked
slightly more alive by then. She’d at least showered the barf out of her hair. When
I walked into the kitchen she handed me the AA brochure and laughed. “Your
father won’t go for it. He already belongs to a group. It’s called Alcoholics
Unanimous. He’s meeting his sponsor right now down at Donovan’s.” That’s the
neighbor over around the corner with the Duster that’s been up on cinder blocks
in the front yard since we were in 5th grade. Rob spends way too much time over
there. And money. They play cards for cash. He came home last Saturday flashing
a big wad of ones and fives like he had just hit the Mega Millions. What a
pathetic loser.
From: Michael Beard
To: Jason Van Otterloo
Sent: June 23, 6:25 p.m.
Subject: RE: Job
Sure. We can find something for
U. We’re down a man anyway. We leave at 7:00, so B there no later. It’s just
behind the Spud across from the ball fields at Green Lake. Know it?
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Michael Beard
Sent: June 23, 2003, 6:46 p.m.
Subject: RE: Job
Thanks, Mike. Really appreciate
it. Can I hit you up for a ride tomorrow? I could ride my bike, but I’ll
probably have to get up at 5:30 to get there by 7. That’s kind of a haul and
there are a couple of monster hills on the way.
From: Michael Beard
To: Jason Van Otterloo
Sent: June 23, 7:12 p.m.
Subject: RE: Job
Sorry. I got 2 go in early and
change the belt on the big rider. Ur on ur own.
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Michael Beard
Sent: June 23, 2003, 7:21 p.m.
Subject: RE: Job
No worries. I totally
understand. Oh well, it will get me in shape, at least.
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 23, 2003, 7:35 p.m.
Subject: Working stiff
Hey, I got that job. I start
tomorrow morning. I have to be down by Green Lake by 7:00. Hoping maybe Mike
can give me a lift sometimes, but tomorrow I’m riding my bike. I’m going to
sock every penny away. I figure if I can earn $5,000 over the next two summers
I can move out for my last year of high school. My cousin Tina rents a basement
apartment from a family in Ballard. She only pays $350 a month and has a separate
entrance and a reserved parking spot in the driveway. That would be perfect.
From: Andrew Dier
To: Jason Van Otterloo
Sent: June 23, 2003, 9:36 p.m.
Subject: RE: Working stiff
You’re a maniac. Might want to
start pedaling now. That’s a long ride. What will you be doing, anyway,
assuming you survive the commute?
From: Jason Van Otterloo
To: Andrew Dier
Sent: June 23, 2003, 9:59 p.m.
Subject: RE: Working stiff
It’s not much farther than
going down to the U-District. Shouldn’t be too horrible. I can do almost half
of it on the trail.
And not really sure exactly
what I’ll be doing. Mike didn’t say. I think mowing lawns and weeding and maybe
some raking. I mean, how much can there really be to it? I’ve seen Rob do it
all before. Never seemed that complicated.
From: Andrew Dier
To: Jason Van Otterloo
Sent: June 23, 2003, 11:21 p.m.
Subject: RE: Working stiff
Don’t take this the wrong way,
because your yard is totally acceptable, and there are way more important
things in this world than a well-manicured lawn, but no one would hire a
landscaper to give their yard the Rob treatment. People hire landscapers to
make their house look like a country club. Have fun with that.
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