NaNoWriMo: Dick Joke Noir Update #1

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All six of my website’s readers and all four of the fans of my novel have surely been waiting with baited breath for updates about Dick Joke Noir, my tentatively named but increasingly-definitely-named novel being written during November. For those too lazy to read the last post, the entire premise is within the title: a noir novel full of juvenile humor, specifically dick jokes. At the moment, here are the opening lines: “This story is somewhat of a memoir, I suppose, though I can’t imagine who would want to read it. My life hasn’t been particularly exciting or noteworthy, unless there’s a sudden honor being attached to saloons festering under the shadow of coal furnaces.” It’s already got everything a noir narrator needs: alcohol and self-hatred.

"I hate myself, but I looooove whiskey."
“I hate myself, but I looooove whiskey.”

The plot is beginning to take shape as well, and by take shape, I mean I still think it would be funny to put a monkey playing saxophone in there somewhere. In fact, it’s a shame that every novel doesn’t have at least one monkey jazz aficionado. Of course, the plot involves a mysterious, attractive woman visiting the drunk, self-loathing detective to investigate something. It wouldn’t be noir if some hideous troll woman walked through the door and said, “I need you to help me find out if my husband has been unfaithful. Because the book would be very short when the detective takes a long drag on a cigarette and says, “If he’s lucky.” THE END

The greatest character in literary history.
The greatest character in literary history.

Because I’m a writer who isn’t afraid to take risks or eat day old bagels at sale prices, the plot then takes a huge turn from the genre when it turns out that the investigation has… UNFORESEEN COMPLICATIONS! Bum bum buuuuuuuum. I’m probably the first writer who has written a noir detective novel where the investigation turns out to be more complicated than initially imagined by the reader. Yes, I am a trailblazer, please send all awards to my secretary, Ms. Jazz Del Monkey. Specifically, the unforeseen complication when this detective is asked to spy on the woman’s husband is that another detective already is spying on her husband – and that other detective is an immature buffoon who loves making dick jokes.

"I apologize if I accidentally blow in your face."
“I apologize if I accidentally blow in your face.”

Other various plot tidbits not yet included, but considered, are the presence of a cult, World War II, beatniks, and of course, docks. Every noir story needs to have docks, because everything shady happens “down at the docks.” Seriously, in 1940, the police should have just had their entire force on the docks, because that’s where guys in noir movies and novels always say, “I seen that fella down at the docks, see?” All of the fellas and dames hang out at the docks all the time. And the novel takes place in Pittsburgh, a city with three rivers, so it’s full to the goddamn brim with docks. So stay tuned for more thrilling updates about monkeys playing jazz, terrible writing, and docks. And dicks.

"Don't mind me, I'm just doin docks stuff."
“Don’t mind me, I’m just doin docks stuff.”


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