Poker, novel-in-progress, and updates from rainy PDX.

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Oh, hey yo. Just checking in on day 3 of my self-imposed break from poker. I need a few days for the tilt to evaporate from my system, but later this week I'll ease my way back in with some micro limit games on PokerStars. You can't really make much money there, but I think it'll help me find my mojo again.

All right, I've been promising an excerpt from the novel all week, and I'm finally ready to deliver. I've been making a lot of progress--I have the first 10 pages written and a rough mental outline of the entire plot. I expect it'll take me almost a year to fully complete--provided I keep at it.

One note, before jumping in: The book has nothing to do with poker. There is, however, a mention of poker in the very first paragraph. It's just a coincidence.


In Monument Valley, Kentucky, 1968, a young boy was born who excelled in every way. A prodigy piano player by age five, state spelling bee champ by the age of ten, he was also, ironically, a punishing all-state running back in high school and Homecoming King. After getting his doctorate in physics from MIT (dissertation title: Why Quantum Theory is Wrong, Wrong, Wrong), he married his high school sweetheart, placed tenth in the World Series of Poker and set about inventing a hydrogen power conversion kit for conventional gasoline engines. Just when it looked like he might fail, he succeeded beyond everyone’s wildest dreams. It wasn’t even close. His name, unironically, was Lance Perfect.

This is not his story.

This is the story of a skinny, dark-haired kid from Seattle named Abe. Abe didn’t skip ahead in school or win any awards; he was held back a year for lighting his teacher’s wig on fire.

His best friend was named Chab. Because Chab grew to the unnatural size of 6 foot 6 and 285 pounds, nobody had ever dared ask him the obvious (What, did your mom write the “d” backwards on your birth certificate?), so he had never thought of it himself. Though he did wonder why he hadn’t met any other Chabs.

At the age of 23, wandering penniless in Seattle’s Pike Place Market, Abe became a detective.


There you have it. The book is a detective story, albeit with an unorthodox detective. There will (hopefully) be suspenseful parts, but for the most part the story is meant to be irreverent and humorous. I could tell you more, but I'd have to kill you.

I'll check in again this week, hopefully with good news to report from the micro tables. Once again, if you are thinking about signing up for Party Poker, use the code FOZ and you'll get $25 extra with a minimum $50 buy-in.


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