Heath, OH – Michael Adamson pecked away at his latest manuscript for more than three years, doing little else in the process. His devotion to his work has taken a toll on his marriage, his relationship with his children and his posture.
His new novel, So I heard, is as confusing as anything written by James Joyce. But it’s guaranteed to sell at least 6 copies — to the author’s mom, dad, brother Thomas, paternal grandma Elsie, uncle Ray-Ray, and gal-pal Monica.
His ex-wife Christine is guaranteed a copy according to terms of the divorce.
“We’re so proud of him.” Uncle Ray-Ray said. “Even if we are a bit confused and have no earthly idea what the book is about. That’s still his name on there. That’s our name.”
“I’m an artist, you see.” Adamson explained. “I refuse to be constrained by first- second- or third-person narratives. Or even the English language. There are other ways to get information across, you know?”
Parts of Adamson’s book are written in what Adamson calls “Klinglish,” which is an amalgamation of Klingon and Spanish.
Did we mention this book is being self-published? Did we have to?