I can’t really divulge too much detail about my upcoming transgressional fiction novel, but since I barely have time to actually blog right now and I’m spending nearly all my free time writing it, I thought it a good time to at least tell you a little about it—the thing keeping me strapped to my office chair, my bloodshot eyes transfixed to my Open Office word processor on my Linux desktop (nothing Microsoft here).
What Is Transgressional Fiction and Why Do I Love It?
In a nutshell, transgressional fiction has no moral boundaries of any kind. It usually involves a protagonist involved in crime, drugs, sex, incest and all things socially unacceptable—who wants to escape and often feels boxed in by society, job, bosses, rules and the suffocating nature of being spiritually unfulfilled. The protagonists of transgressional fiction often look to find spiritual solace or self-actualization through some form of explosive violence, crime or drugs. Often times, but not always, the protagonist is actually on some form of transcendental or existential journey to find themselves. Transgressional fiction is often termed low fiction à la Marqis de Sade in modern times. It’s twisted affliction with philosophical meaning.
I personally love it because it allows the absolute freedom to express any idea, no matter how repugnant or pornographic (let’s face it, sex is a natural part of life and by omitting it from my work because of some religious prudence kills the natural fire of a story). It’s based—at least my own transgressional fiction is—on realism and reality. Another reason I prefer to write in this genre as opposed to horror is because monsters, ghosts, ghouls, demons and people with magical powers not only don’t scare me, it can come off as unrealistic. This is not to say I don’t like or appreciate horror or speculative fiction, but I prefer to create horror within reality. I actually like love stories and am a big fan of Jane Austen, eroticism, and film noir. The most frightening stories to me are always about real people doing conceivable and horrific things—not a vampire or werewolf (in many cases but not all). However, it’s something readers of horror will like because of the twisted themes, gore and extreme violence.
I like the idea that dystopian society is in your back yard, next door, or you’re living in it right now in your real life—not some strange new world after the fourth world war
Unlike other transgressional writers like Bret Easton Ellis or Chuck Palahniuk—or even meta-fiction writers like John Barth or William H. Gass (and I’m not trying to compare myself to these greats)—who tend to use literary minimalism; my novel is a mixture of both minimalist prose and extreme imagism (literary minimalism can often lack color and I so love description heavy prose even if bloated and unnecessary). Actually, the novel The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger was instrumental and serves partly as a root for the entire transgressional genre. It’s amazing how new genres are coined and born from multiple predecessors and I see myself definitely writing in other genres besides this one.
My novel (and I can’t even share the title at this point) is about a confused twenty-six year old man named Edward Zamiel Lang who is spiritually crushed and lost beyond redemption or so he believes . He has no confidence in himself, is sexually inadequate and is basically frightened of women. He lives twenty-six years without a girlfriend and falls into a vicious love triangle as his first experience in love—really a horrific way to start his foray into sex and girlfriends. He is the antithesis to many of Hemingway’s strong silent type protagonists and is the overly sensitive type with an almost classic female view of love, integrity and relationships. He’s very much in touch with his feelings and expresses them well. He’s trapped in a dead end town under the misapprehension that a big city will save his asphyxiating life (a common theme that never goes out of style).
His best friend is a cocktail waitress named Jennifer Summer, a drug addicted whore who sleeps with multiple partners. Edward unfortunately falls in love with her. She tames his languid naiveté and convinces him to let her move in even though she is having affairs with several other men. He stupidly accepts it out of loneliness. They fall into a twisted labyrinth of methamphetamine addiction and manufacture (nothing like the popular show Breaking Bad but more personal and I started this novel years before ever seeing that show which is by the way my favorite—the best written show on TV in my opinion).
He meets a lovely Christian girl named Taryn Patterson, also a casino cocktail waitress, but has tremendous moral fiber and integrity. He falls in love with her and finds himself torn between the two—one promiscuous slut and one ethical Christian woman. A concussion of violence occurs which fractures Edward’s psyche and destroys his life. He loses both women. He finds himself in the clutches of harrowing depression and wants to commit suicide. He becomes so addicted to meth he cannot discern between reality and hallucination.
At his lowest point, on the verge of suicide or drug induced heart attack, when he needs to be loved by someone, cared about by someone—he meets Jennifer’s younger sister: Jessica Lenora Summer, the wicked whore-bitch sex-bomb from hell who takes him on a journey of invidious bloodshed—a nuclear inferno of psychological despair and sickness. His life converges into an eruption of the most terrifying horror I could dig out of my twisted mind. In my story, karma is a cruel lie. Men take on almost female roles and women gain the upper hand of control and pseudo-masculinity.
And that’s not the half of it
Though I have shared a partial synopsis of the story (which I am happy to share), I certainly didn’t give anything away. It’s a love story drenched in revulsion and menace. It’s a morbid satire. I stand resolute in delivering a tale defining the very essence of transgressive fiction. I pull no punches and if by miracle Oprah Winfrey ever reads it, she will drop to her knees and vomit. But hey, to truly show the underworld of methamphetamine addicted psychopaths and what their lives become, it cannot be a freaking fairy tale. Definitely not for children. Definitely not for everyone. But I guarantee it is riveting and realistic. It’s something that actually could happen in real life—and may actually have . . . somewhere.
Is it too violent? Yes.
Is there too much gore? Yes.
It goes places most horror writers won’t go.
The subject matter is beyond extreme, but very human.
As I said before, I will give as many copies away for free to my readers as I can afford, of course write my second novel (which I’m fleshing out ideas for right now) and find an agent. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.