In 2013, McCarthy wrote the script for Ridley Scott’s critically divisive The Counselor, though most would agree that the final result failed to captivate in the way that McCarthy’s best work often does. Outside of his novels, McCarthy has tried his hand at other mediums as well, including brief forays into playwriting ( The Sunset Limited) and screenwriting – though often to mixed results. McCarthy rarely gives interviews or openly discusses his work, although ScreenCraft’s Ken Miyamoto recently managed to dig up a few rare pieces of advice for writers. From seminal classics like Blood Meridian, to the Pulitzer Prize-Winning The Road, there are few alive that can match the author’s elegantly descriptive, yet structurally minimalist prose. Then he rose and filled the plastic tumbler on the sink counter with water and drank it.Few contemporary authors have made as profound an impact on literature as Cormac McCarthy. When he was done he disinfected the wound a final time and tore open packets of four by fours and laid them over the holes in his leg and bound them with gauze off of a roll packaged for sheep and goats. He held the tip of the forceps under the faucet and shook away the water and bent to his work again. He sat with the water running in the sink and rested. Then he set the bottle down and bent to work, picking out the bits of cloth, using the swabs and the forceps.
He tore open the packet with his teeth and unscrewed the bottle and tipped it slowly over the wounds. He dropped his boots in the water and patted himself dry with the towel and sat on the toilet and took the bottle of Betadine and the packet of swabs from the sink. When he climbed out of the tub the water was a pale pink and the holes in his leg were still leaking a pale blood dilute with serum.
The hole was big enough to put your thumb in. Small pieces of cloth stuck to the tissue. He turned his leg in the water and studied the exit wound. He laved water over the wounds with a washcloth. Leg was black and blue and swollen badly. You bring me the money and I’ll let her walk. You know how this is going to turn out, dont you? No. It doesnt make any difference where they are. How do you know I wont? You wouldnt have told me. You thought about that? That would be okay. I could be waitin for you when you get there you know, Moss said. Why would I believe you? You believed Wells.
Yeah? Where am I? You’re in the hospital at Piedras Negras. Do you know where I’m going? Why would I care where you’re goin? Do you know where I’m going? Moss didnt answer.
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