Current Fiction Writing: Natural Predator

Some of you may know that I shelved all fiction writing briefly. Some of you may not know that, but I did. Recently, though, I had a lot of time free up, so.... it'll start picking up again! :D

So...what fiction writing projects do I have? Right now, only Natural Predator. You can see the first draft of the cover on the left. :) Natural Predator won't be a book like any you've seen before (hopefully). Why not? This book is the first in a series of only 2 or 3 books. They will all be completely disconnected story-wise. Even told by totaly separate characters. It connects only in theme. Why? I want to revolutionize fiction, like Henrik Ibsen did. Henrik Ibsen brought about the whole idea of being unpredictable, something which all authors do now.

It's about time for things to change, too. We're seeing some amazing fiction in the current way of doing things, like The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, one of my favourite authors. I suppose a couple more amazing works will be cranked out, and then someone has to start a pop. A pop that will forever change fiction; bring in a new era and style of writing. People will want it, even if they don't realize it. I just want to be the person who starts that pop. This means a ton of trial and error for me; a ton of experimentation.

I can't do it just by having an oddly connected series, can I? So I have lots of jumping through time; chronology is NOT the most important element in the progression of my story. I have parts where the main character interjects with an analysis of what just happened. It focuses more on what is going through the main character's mind, and what exactly he's thinking that leads him to make the crazy decisions he does. Thus obviously, or else not so obviously, it's all in first person.

It will be challenging, frustrating, and I'll want to give up. But I won't. The most important ingredient perhaps would be the support and publicity I can get from my friends when the time comes. Don't let me down. Also, whether I can start the 'pop' I want to or not, I will be satisfied knowing that at least I was different. :) Now, for an excerpt. Just for a little background, this is near the beginning, and all that has happened is the MC's mother and brother were killed by wolves, and he has been having to fend for himself. At the opening of the excerpt, he has gone for several days to a week without any nutrition. Anyways, here it is: (please bear in mind this is first draft material. Consider yourself lucky, I usually don't make this stuff public)

I knew that if I did nothing I would surely die. I slowly lifted myself up and stumbled around a few paces, then promptly collapsed. I couldn’t move.  

Just then I noticed a dead squirrel only a few inches from where I was. It was freshly killed, and it looked as if my mother had laid it there for me. I knew this was impossible. Some other animal must have killed it. But why had it left it there? For me? And why had I not smelled the blood? I propped myself up slowly and pulled the meat apart. I hadn’t needed to do anything. It was a gift, so to speak, and I only had to accept it. That I did gladly.  

I did not ensnare anything else that day, but I was well satisfied from the meat of the squirrel. That next morning I began to feel slightly hungry. This sent me almost into a state of panic; remembering what I had experienced a couple days ago. I didn’t want to go there again. I now knew where not eating led.  

Luckily towards the end of that day I was able to catch a rat, so I wouldn’t go hungry. It was my first kill since the death of my mother.  

I was like this for one of the moon’s cycles. Several days with no food, an injured bird, a couple more days of hunger, another kill, and so on. More often than not I went hungry. I never caught anything more than once a day. Oftentimes all I had to eat was an old, partially decomposed carcass of an animal. I rarely had fresh kill to eat.  

Survival is key. That is what hunger attacks, and that’s why it’s so dangerous. Hunger was my life; I dabbled in it constantly. Every day was a fight against hunger, and if hunger won, that would mean my end. I couldn’t let it win. And I didn't.

Again now, this is first draft material. Please don't criticize the quality of writing.