Upon hearing that the representative and agent for my affairs in New York City, one Mr. Austin Williams, has finished reviewing my short-story cum novelette, "The Soulsucker of Aneuma", I decided to contact him through the psychic voxificator that I had installed in his head while he was sleeping a few years back.

"Mr. Williams", I hailed him, "how do you do?"

"August! That was quick."

"I can read your thoughts, Mr. Williams."

"Oh, yes. That thing  you put in my head several years ago."

"Yes, but let us not dwell. Now, tell me, your thoughts on Mr. Atherton's circumstances?"

"Well, August, I obviously like the premise a great deal. I mean, selling your soul for a résumé? I'm sure a lot of people can empathise with that."

"Most fortuitous. Then, did you have many troubles editing this work?"

"Yes, well, there was a lot of awkward wording here and there in what you gave me. I had to modify some things ni light of 'Chekhov's gun'."

"Such as?"

"Well, I clipped off a lot about the steel-workers brotherhood. I made Mr. Menthelon from the office a little more anonymous, as he never really shows back up again. There were other cuts, too. I took out the entire scene with the brothel–"

"You mean the succubus, because that wasn't exclusively a brothel. It also served as an opium den, and underneath, there was a temple dedicated to the lords of hell."

"Right, well, the succubus turned into succubæ, but the building itself was removed from the narrative. Umm, what else?"

"You took out the brothel!"

"But you just said it wasn't a brothel!"

"Oh, never you mind that! Now tell me what else has been removed."

"Well, I curtailed various scenes, I augmented others at points. I brought it down from around 15,000 words to just a little over 11,000."

"Those are words that shall not be replaced so easily, Williams."

He sighed. "Yes, I know, Gus, but 11,000 words is still a thousand too many for most publications."

"Hm." I huffed. "Could we serialise it?"

"That may be our best chance, but the tale really does sort of work best as a whole, y'know? "

I drummed my fingers on my easy chair.

"August?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know how open to the idea of a serial most editors would be."

"I don't either."

"I think you still need to do more revisions before we can shop this one around."

I imagined Mr. Williams standing across from me in my drawing room, his shoulders slumping, his face cast down, a slight shiver running through him as I focused my disappointment like a carefully calibrated ion beam. "Do you know how long these visions have incapacitated me, Mr. Williams?"

"Years, sir, I know, but–"

"No buts! This must be ready for publication by the morrow!"

"By tomorrow, but Gus!"

"Don't but me you hooligan reject! I asked for editorial revision that would make this a story worthy of the ages – and you come to me sobbing about having too many words!"

"I'm just telling you he truth, Gus!"

"Silence! If you cannot revise my work to satisfaction, find me someone who will!"

"I'll take it by some of the writers groups I know."

"Excellent."

"And maybe give it to some other friends for a going-over."

"Good."

"And, umm, I'll try to submit it to publications as soon as possible."

"Spectacular!"

I broke off communication with Mr. Williams so he might continue his work. I was disappointed, yes. It was a setback. I even wondered if perhaps Mr. Williams's perennially low self-esteem might have gotten in the way of his proper evaluation of the work, but I had not the time to dig further.

I summoned one of my lemming butlers, and asked for a refill of my cappuccino. "Oh, and one more thing, Charles," I said, "I shall need to extend my presence on the interwebs shortly. Please see to it that I have a Live-Journal account set up."

Charles, ever the dutiful servant, obeyed. Mr. WIlliams, however, has disappointed me thus far. At least in this regard.

mood: disappointed tags: aneuma, austin, dialogue, drafts, editing, review, soulsucker, soulsucker of aneuma, williams

Hello.

You may not know who I am, but you will learn. Oh! Yes! You will learn!

My name is August Noel "Gus" Wahnsinger, but this has not always been the case. I was born Augustus Ritterman Wahnsinniger von Totenheim to a Yugoslavian soldier of fortune named Vikki. I was abandoned at an early age and raised by the voice-actor who brought Yoda to life in the Croatian version of The Empire Strikes Back. I never learned Croatian though, and to this day we have never spoken to one another.

My adoptive father, unable to bridge the language gap despite his most articulate flailing and hand gestures, felt he had no choice but to send me to the United States, which was rather difficult considering that at the time we lived in a communist country(Sweden).

I remember upon my arrival in America thinking, "Vad är det stank?" or in English "What's that smell?" It turns out, that smell was just New Jersey, where the Stature of Liberty and Ellis Island both actually reside, much to the dismay of many angry New Yorkers. Ellis Island had been closed for some time, but that didn't keep me from trying to get in there. When I was finally directed to the proper building for immigration purposes, which also just happens to be an IRS building, they still managed to butcher my name.

Around this time I began receiving messages from another world. Strange, uncanny messages. When I told them to the space-aliens who had custody of me, they said "That's absurd!" and beat me with probes so that I'd stop making up such strange stories. I wasn't making them up though, and the messages kept coming. They were messages about elves, kings, bald men with swords who lived in sewers! Oh, they were fantastic and amazing! But I couldn't find a single keyboard, typewriter or word processor on the entire spaceship! Imagine my frustration!

When I was twenty, I returned to New York City, hoping to find a way to get these messages out of my head. What I found there were plenty of Gaps and Starbuckses, but no mental disgurgitators like what I was hoping for. Daunted, bewildered, I went to the only place one could find true solace - the Bronx Zoo. There, a helpful penguin named Chester advised me to take a soul-searching trek into the wilderness, where I might finally discover my purpose.

I began wandering the American countryside, starting in Nebraska, and making my way southwestward. A few days later, I gave up on America, and decided I should seek out my other penguin friends to the far North in Canada. When I reached the Yukon, imagine my dismay to find out that penguins only live in Antarctica! I settled for befriending the local lemmings, which though rewarding, has also proven an emotionally draining and difficult experience.

I sit high upon my throne in the Canadian Rockies as I mentally project this onto the internet. I have begun the process of replicating the messages in my head so you, the consumer/editor/hot chick I'm trying to impress, may also find the meaning and life behind the words that have stained my mind all these many years.


Consider yourselves forewarned and introduced.

Yours truly,
August "Incredible Power!" Wahnsinger. Esq., Ovrlrd., etc., etc.
 

tags: biography, introduction