The Journey of SILVER BROWN

Chewing The Cud

The two most recent chapters I’ve been editing lately are being stripped and fused together. There was too much needless exhibition that bogged down the story in the earlier drafts, so I’ve begun the process of gutting all that in order to grow a new literary Frankenstein from the tissue samples that remain. This will make for a better kickoff into the next act, methinks. Not to mention it’ll leave more creative room for The Lads to take on more horrifying guises.

Writing is never a waste of time. Even if you don’t use something you write, there’s always a reason why you wrote it. I save every morsel of prose I have ever composed, good or bad. My past life as a web developer begat that habit. The conventional wisdom in web development is that unused code snippets should never be deleted while a website is under construction. They should merely be commented out, for you never know if or when they might come in handy. The same principle applies to written prose. If a passage gets extracted from a manuscript for whatever reason, there’s a special file where I put it for safekeeping, in case I feel that need to regurgitate it for later.


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The Journey of SILVER BROWN

Acid Rain Black

My former boss went insane and stabbed a dude. It made headlines throughout Canada during the annus horribilis that was 2016. I’ve elaborated on her insanity in excruciating detail elsewhere on this site, although at this point I can’t be arsed to dig up the link. [EDIT 4/23/2019 17:20 UTC-5 I guess I can be arsed now. Here it is.] In retrospect, it’s a good thing I abruptly quit my job and got the hell out of Toronto five months before the boss completely snapped. If I hadn’t, she probably would have stabbed me instead of the doorman. I had to get treatment from a shrink for a period of three years after quitting, but at least I made it out of there in one piece. More or less.

I couldn’t have done it alone, though. To all the people who lent me a helping hand along the way, I sincerely thank you. From the bottom of my heart. You know who you are. Even if said helping hand was not lent out of any particular concern for me, you still have my eternal gratitude for getting me out of a terrible jam.

Silver Brown is first and foremost an exercise in self-therapy. Like the writingcraft tends to be for a sizable portion of its practitioners. It’s just an added bonus that some people actually find this crazy yarn entertaining. There’s something exhilarating about taking a life experience that was beyond painful for me personally and turning it into something that makes people happy. Speaking of which, it’s only natural that my former boss (who has since become worm chow) would become the basis for at least one of the characters. There are actually bits and pieces of Ellis Kirkland splattered across several characters, but this blog post will focus on one in particular.


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This could possibly be a visual representation of Ruby Lapp while she’s in the process of transubstantiating into her war-animal. However, I mostly decided to post it here because it’s psychedelic as fuck.

The chapter I’m editing now sees Florys being interrogated by a Sister who she considers to be her archnemesis. Ruby Lapp. Head page of the Executive Cabinet, and the obvious darling of the Lodge. Ruthless. Powerful. Ambitious. Destined to take over the Vizier-Queen’s job someday, with absolutely nothing standing in her way. Just ask her loyal and ever-honest toadies, The Lads…


Two squirrels in Hyde Park London.

“You will be our Vizier-Queen, My Precious Buttercup, if Your Dagdaic Majesty you ne’er will be.”

Snow White was always being followed around wherever she went by a retinue of woodland critters. I’m not really sure why. Because she was all pure and innocent? Some horseshit like that. A few drafts into the writing of this tome, I gave Ruby Lapp a woodland critter retinue of her own. Partly to be sarcastic. But The Lads don’t follow her around and kiss her ass because she’s pure and innocent. Hell, no. They do it because kissing her ass is their job and they’ll be permanently deleted if they refuse, for they are but worms and peons who only exist to serve their master.

It can be said Ruby Lapp is the opposite of a Snow White – an Acid Rain Black. Any musicians reading this are welcome to steal that for the name of their band.

Ruby Lapp can also be considered Draco Malfoyish. She considers herself a true Sister, because she comes from eleven generations of cybermagickal practitioners. Florys’ pedigree is nowhere near as impressive; her father (whose current whereabouts are unknown) was an Orycteropian pitchman who pimped the Aardvark’s wares to the masses every Lisasday morning. In the world according to Ruby Lapp, this makes Florys and her kind a lower form of life than the tardigrades who inhabit pond scum. Scum that most certainly will be wiped from the face of the Lodge when Ruby Lapp is enthroned as Vizier-Queen. That glorious day shall come to pass. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but someday.

The Journey of SILVER BROWN

An Enzymatic Bitchslapping

One of the aspects unique to releasing a book in serial format is that the characters almost become actors, and you become this entity similar to Kermit the Frog who says encouraging supercalifragilistic things to them backstage in the waning seconds before they go out there to knock ’em dead. Except I wouldn’t be exactly Kermit. If I learned anything from meditating in Ojibwe tipis for three years, my Kermitic manitou would be something closer to the other guy from that other movie…


…but only because he brought up cheese. No other reason. Cross my heart.

Speaking of which, Kent Fairholt had to undergo a violent soul extraction and digestion in the 9,302nd stomach of my dark Kermitic essence to remove certain impurities that sullied his character. I am pleased to announce that he is now ready to take his war medicine. In the earlier drafts, he was just an asshole. But now he’s an asshole, and more.