Posthuman Blues

Unless I'm deluding myself, the end is in sight for editing my Mars book into user-friendly form. I'm going through the mss. combining related sections; a lot of the original draft -- if you can call it that -- was hopelessly fragmented. Now it's taking on some narrative coherence and reads more like an actual book than, say, an encyclopedia of astronomical esoterica. I've still got work to do but I'm no longer completely paralyzed by the prospect of readying it for publication. (If I write another nonfiction book, as I hope I will, then I've learned a few things. Whether I take my education to heart is another matter entirely.)

Maybe "nonlinear" is my ideal literary mode. It has huge advantages: unlimited points of entry, no reliance on frail, artificial attempts at structure. This disregard for conventional A-to-B storytelling helped make the Beats famous. In a way, "After the Martian Apocalypse" (if that's the title Simon & Schuster ends up using) is the "Naked Lunch" of "alien" books: visual, episodic, iconoclastic. It shares Burroughs' intention to "wise up the marks" and "storm the reality studio." Its commercial success will depend in part on how willing readers are to swim in my stream of consciousness.