Here it is, the longest piece of fiction I’ve ever written; a comic noir novelette, complete, unabridged, with special-edition DVD-only extras, hot off the WordPress. Fair warning: there are a lot of in-jokes, puns, and references that only people familiar with Slovenia and Ljubljana will get, but I hope the rest of you will find something there of value. If nothing else, it’s original and it is My Thing. Access is free, but there is a button to donate something via GoFundMe if the spirit moves you. If you like it, share. And enjoy.
That URL again:
I don’t write a lot of fiction, but when I do it definitely bends toward the comic. I’d like to do rather more of it. I originally wrote this short story at the Spoleto Writers’ Workshop in Spoleto, Italy, in the summer of 1999. It was an idyllic week where all I had to do was hang out with other writers, eat wonderful Umbrian cuisine, attend the occasional class and take part in various writing exercises. It seems a million miles away now, but I can see it as clearly as I do the view out my window today. I was living in Slovenia at the time, and I expected that the creative writing I’d be doing in Spoleto would involve my experiences in Central Europe. Instead, curious things popped up that surprised no one more than me. I ended up exorcising the demons of Long Island and my youth and paying a certain kind of tribute to a certain milieu that I had observed, from a distance, for quite a while. I’m presenting it here with only slight revisions from the original, for those who, for whatever reason, might be interested to read it.
Since Michael M., the current official American Guy in Slovenia, has mentioned my “nalepka noir novelette” work-in-progress, The Mesečnik Files, on his popular blog The Glory of Carniola, I figure I might as well mention it here (heck, it might give me impetus to finally finish the thing). It’s a tale of millennial-era Ljubljana, and one mesečnica in particular. And what is a mesečnik (or mesečnica), you ask? Why, the teenager who sells you the monthly sticker on the bus, of course. Maybe you had to be there. (I know I was.)
It’s a work of fiction, if you need to ask. No resemblance to actual mesečniks or other habitantes of Ljubljana is intended, including their social relationships, work habits or other details of their personal lives. Also, on the whole, I’m sure they don’t drink quite that much. Although you never know.