My second novel, like the first, is an abomination of the English language—which explains why God created the Revision. Really, to call both of these lengthy slatherings of ink "novelistic" must be pushing the definition to its unnatural extreme.

As with all of my drafts of anything, I can never settle upon a title. So, I always keep a running list. Below, then, is that list of working titles for my second effort at a novel...

Clay

Thumb on the World

Unique Reek

The Clatters

The Sniggering Clatters

Clay and the Sniggering Clatters:
A Ridiculous Fable


Pined For

An Infectious Miasma of Lunacy

The Broadloom

The Humph

Infernal Obliquity

Tenacious Nougat

Dangling from the Goop

The Briefest of Gusts

The Cusp of Fall

Points of Tolerance

Shag Bark Lane

Mr. & Mrs. Clatter of 7 Shag Bark Lane

Paint Yourself Ridiculous

Crossing Thresholds

Gravity's Tug

A Pale Perplexion

The Constant Swerve


For the duration of my effort, I left the first line on the cover of the composition book blank; on the second line I wrote: "Draft One"; on the third I wrote the date I first pressed my pen to its first page. Today, along with the completion date on that third line, I filled in the first: "Clay." It's rather plain as titles go—and very likely the title of an existing, published novel—but it'll do for now.

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