My driver’s license and passport report my name as Gary Carter, and that’s true enough. And I guess anyone finding his or her way here expects to know something about the guy behind it.
So, let’s say I’ve circled back like some broke-nose Faulkner character to Asheville, North Carolina where I was purportedly conceived, and which seems to be a place where pushing words around until they make sense seems to make sense—for now. For cash flow purposes, I work as a writer and marketing consultant, having labored on both the corporate and agency sides of the world, as well as writing on a range of topics for a variety of publications and online outlets. Assignments are always welcome—it’s a tough world out there. So if you need articles, blogs, web content, branding and marketing, screenplays or ghostwriting, operators are standing by.
The root cause of this blog is a novel, Eliot’s Tale (2009), which I describe as a “reverse-coming-of-age-road-trip novel” in which the protagonist hits the highway in a mid-life, looking-toward-the-dirt-nap attempt to deal with things done and left undone. Included are some sex, drugs and rock & roll (and blues, jazz and country), beneath which lies a nice little love story about a man and wife at the crossroads. The author remains convinced the novel should be Cameron Crowe’s next film project and is waiting on the call.
There’s another novel in the works focused on a collision of friendship and death, and a forthcoming mystery entitled, Snake Bit. I believe in short fiction and attempt poetry, some of which have appeared recently in such eclectic journals as Dead Mule, Burnt Bridge, Dew on the Kudzu, Muscadine Lines, Short Story Library, Fried Chicken & Coffee, and Read Short Fiction. A film based on a screenplay, A Love for the Game, is rumored to be in preproduction.
Otherwise, it’s just taking it as it comes, one day at a time, while always recalling Mister Vonnegut’s words of wisdom: “Listen: We are here on Earth to fart around. Don’t let anybody tell you any different!”