comparisons and other traps

my novel today seems like a mix of W. S. Burroughs,Alain Robbe-Grillet, and Neal Stephenson. Burroughs for the chaos, the sci-fi cut-up, and ARG for the overall postmodern sheen, the glossy hard focus on aesthetics/form over content and NS for the real interest in technology and the future it may lead us to. Thank god I have the basic narrative structure down.

Don't forget my Genet-like semifictional memoir/journaling which comprises a lot of the content. I don't think it's all that interesting but it's good enough I guess. It's all about the form.

As much as I try to tame it, move it more toward the traditional narrative I think is needed or wanted somehow, the more clear it becomes that this will not happen. This doesn't mean that someone would look at it and not see it clearly, in their own mind, as characters, story. It's just my perspective from inside the process. It's fascinating, if difficult. This is the only novel I am "inside" because it's mine. Others I only see from the outside.

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