Okay, here I finally go. Getting into the meat of this particular matter.


Ring some bells, shout some slogans, clap your hands. This is my official launch blog of my new novel, Brussegem, a snug hell.
Good, got that out of the way.


This book is the first in a series of novels I’ll be putting out that explore the contemporary concept of being and living as an artist. I’ve already completed or near-completed six novels about this subject. It’s something I’ve been exploring from all sorts of angles over the years. The other books feature a screenwriter, a stand-up, an actor’s widow, a wanna-be genius, an elderly photographer…. But we’re not here to talk of the future. We are here for this painter Brussegem – Now!


Now, what this book is all about, how it came about? Oh who cares… I’m not going to interview myself and give some semi-academic explanation. I liked the idea of a grumpy dedicated artist of a certain talent being invaded by woman who is innocent in these matters yet passionate in others. And watch what happened, with some humor, drama and discussion of the matter.


And size-wise, the novel’s more what the Anglo-Saxons like to call a novella than a novel. It’s around 110 pages in length, and in France, that’s rather normal. I like a good novella. So it’s a relatively short read, so the pace moves at a clip….


I’m going to get around to giving you a link to the first chapter and a link to buy the sucker, which brings me to pricing. After wondering whether I should price some books more when there’s more pages, and less when there’s less pages and so I figured on this and wondered and eventually told myself, No, I’ll sell everything at 10 dollars (the equivalent in euros and pounds) for all books, no matter the size. I need to keep my life simple. That’s my whole sophisticated economic basis for this….


So, economics. CLICK on this link to go get yourself a copy right this very minute. You’ll find links to the USA, UK and Europe Amazon bookstores, as well as the eBook you can buy from the Kindle bookstore — from Europe, you have to buy via the USA. If you have the right app, you can buy from Kindle the ebook that’ll suit your reading device. I’ll be getting the eBook versions for the reading devices from Barnes and Noble, iBooks, and others … but everything in good time…or the time I can find to get this done….


You’ll notice on the link above there’s no audio book offering yet. I’m working on it. The recording/editing on this has been completed, and I’m querying various distributors, and expect this to happen sooner rather than later. And, as I’m a voice over professional and video maker, it’s pretty well done, if I do say so myself and I do. So keep your eyes peeled, or reading my blogs, whatever’s easiest.


There’s also short promo book launch video coming. Probably next week.


Okay, I’m getting exhausted with the length of this entry, but hey, I’m launching a book so I’ve some bases to cover. I’ll be posting about four excerpts, Chapters 1 to 5. So right now here’s BRUSSEGEM, a snug hell: Part ONE, Chapter 1 in a pdf file… I’ll be putting these up every Friday for the next few weeks (I have other books coming quickly). Of course, if you can’t wait, you can read the first four chapters already on THIS LINK – just click on the Read section.


Here’s the opening of this novel, Brussegem, a snug hell, in case you don’t want to link to the whole chapter right now:

1.
A word about Brussegem: look hard at a detailed map of the small European country of Belgium and you may, with perseverance, find the faint dot of the village of Brussegem. It’s a prosaic village, where hardworking peasants reap and sow food and fodder year after year on their little pitted patches of land. It’s a fairly safe place to live—all is calm and decent—little crime, little litter, little anything.
In Brussegem, they still ride in wooden wagons pulled by broad-chested horses, and they lead cows through the streets with rope harnesses. The streets still have the same lumpy cobblestones of years gone by. There’s an ancient, crumbling mishmash of a church in the center of the village, where, over the warring ages, passing conquerors have stopped briefly to stick a Kilroy‑was‑here brick in the façade before moving on. The right wing of the church is Romanesque, the left wing Germanic, the steeple Scandinavian—the live bird perched upon it Brussegemish—and the whole thing a bore. Nothing any culture vulture tourist need bother about.
So … tidy, snug Brussegem—a quiet place—a benign place—a place that keeps up, day after day, its small promise of being, and forever remaining, a faint dot on the map.
Just on the outskirts of this dot lived an American painter—secluded, aloof, an odd part of this unhurried heaven. Also odd, his name was just like the village’s: Brussegem. And he possessed as bumpy a disposition as any cobblestoned street in the village: a moody man with gray hair, a full beard, and beady eyes. Children irritated him, he disliked fluffy animals, and hated sounds that kept him awake at night. Neither was he very fond of taking walks, but take them he did; for between finishing one painting and beginning another, there was not all that much to do in this little corner of the world, save walk.



Meanwhile, just a bit of useless news for you. I started this blog 13 months ago, and, bit by bit, just as I was forewarned, there’s been growth: comparing this week with a year ago, according to my Google statistics, I’m up 880% during these past 12 months. So some folks, many I don’t know, are visiting. Enjoying the fact that I’m a storyteller here, and not much else. Again, folks, you’ll mostly only get storytelling stuff on this blog, not badgering and daily opinions on this and that: just stories in words, images and performance. On my personal Facebook Page you get all sorts of other junk. And, if you did not know, there’s a Hidden People Fan/Like page, if you care to join that…CLICK HERE!


That’s it (better be). If you know of anyone else might like this stuff, my sort of stuff, please Spread It (this) Around.
And thanks for reading. –Vincent