a writing by Marc Enric


Man. Chapter one is the "hook." You ever go to Barnes and Noble's walking around with your double espresso shot super frothy triple caramel oreo cookie cinnamon topped Latte?

Your walking around like your doing something but your really not doing anything 'cept just checking out that chick with the ass in the "how to get a divorce lawyer" section.

Casually you waltz over to the fiction. Ahhh Noir.

Then you pick up the book. Smell it like the wine connesuer your not.
Open it. Your getting to page twenty. Your lattes getting cold. That ass girl probably already got divorced by now. How dare this audacious pinko Russian red star headband wearing Commie bastard have the nerve to write a 47 page fucking first chapter? You imagine him behind his Mac. Caramel smile. Insense burning. A blow up oak framed picture of himself on his wall smiling back at himself. Liberace softly playing in the background.

Your so mad you speed out of the parking lot running over that mime trying to sell flowers for St. Agne's church.

You see, the first chapter is a hook. I like them around ten pages max. So you feel by the time you finish your, whatever latte, you've accomplished something. You didn''t save the world...but pretty damn close.

If I finish the first chapter by the time the cup hits the ground and it's good. I get hooked.
I'll probably buy it.

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