Short chapters mean...

"Echoes of the Path"
Yeah Wang

Careful dissection of what Adam is saying...so far. Chapter Two is 3100 words on 13 pages, and bit by bit I'm removing a lot of the superfluous commentary that's meant to soften the reading. This is not a part that should be read with comfort. Adam is talking about being thrown out of his home because he's gay, and how the judicial system in Montreal was as casually callous with him as his parents were.

So far it's going well, working like this. Not overwhelming like it sometimes was with APoS. I've gone over this chapter probably five times, not as rewrites but almost as a detective seeking to remove anything superfluous. Or even a poet digging for just the right word. 

I'm also making certain Adam's voice retains a bit of the poet as he lays out his life, up to his death...and then even his afterlife. I want the reader to know he's intelligent, creative and capable of just about anything. Even though he's a sex-worker, throughout.

I have to admit I had an odd reaction at learning a previous man I'd used as a model for Dair has an Only Fans page and posts clips of him having sex with his boyfriend or lover or whatever. It's silly of me, because he's doing exactly what is necessary for him to make a living. Like Adam does. At least, to make enough of a living to pay off student loans and still have a decent level of existence.

But I felt put off. A bit disappointed. And it's only because I saw him in one way and he turned out to be as human as anybody else. If I know from the outset you've worked in porn or on Only Fans, I got no problem with that. It's having to adjust my view of you to incorporate this new side of you that troubles me.

I'm using that silly reaction of mine to color some characters' attitudes. Others won't give a damn. Like how I feel about him, now...which, admittedly, I had to argue myself into.

Sometimes I wonder if there's still too much Presbyterian in me...

Thoughts for the day...

Since I'm brain dead, right now...

Finding my writing rhythm with DW...

I'm working on a chapter at a time, till it's ready. Keeping them at about 2800-3200 words. Blending the words as best I can into Adam's manner of speech. There will be no long chapters in this book. And even if I do no writing, I'll still be moving forward with it.

I managed to make it to my 9am appointment, today. Where my stomach got scanned in a bunch of odd poses...which brought on a headache. I've always had issues with the left side of my neck. It's where the vast majority of my headaches start, and today I think I pinched a nerve in there, or something...to where I could not focus or think.

So I took a long nap...2 hours. And would have gone longer but I set my alarm to get up. That helped enough to where I could go through Chapter Two of Adam's portion of the book. And hone it more.

He's revealing how he was outed by his brother and kicked out of his home, and how the authorities treated him like a problem so put him with a man who became his pimp.

I'm being careful in this area, because even though the legal age of consent in Canada is fourteen, and Adam's fifteen at the time, in the US that's a serious issue. I'm no pedophile; I don't like boys, I like men. But that won't keep people from claiming otherwise to suit their own agenda.

I'm fighting with myself to keep Adam's story as honest as possible...so we'll see how it goes. I'm going to do another pass on this chapter, then move to the next one...which will really be the problematic one.

I dealt with Father Damian's molestation of Danny in a very oblique way that made it clear what was going on without saying it. Don't think I can get away with that, here.

And maybe I don't want to.

Late riser...

I hate getting up in the morning, at least not before 10:30. It's hard as hell for me to go to bed before 2 so that makes for a good 8 hours of sleep, and there have been many occasions where I'd sleep till noon...usually after staying up till 4am...or even 5.

Once I lie down, I rarely have trouble dropping into slumber; it's actually making myself stop and accept that I need the rest that's the issue. I'm using this in Dair, who can get so into working on one of this stained glass projects, he neglects sleep and food and rest because he's afraid he'll lose the link or spark he's got for the piece.

Adam was good about sensing when Dair needed to be pulled back from the abyss, even when he didn't know it, himself. He'd quietly guide Dair into the real world and soothe him and keep him fed, which adds to Dair's extreme sense of loss after Adam dies. No one is watching over him, not like Adam did. Now Dair is adrift, unable to regain his center...something Wallace can't even understand, let alone help him with.

The more I get into this story, the more I see one important aspect of it is Dair's unconditional love for Adam. Because even though Adam stole from him and pushed him away, at times, and manipulated him...he didn't care. He loved Adam for being more than a partner; he was Dair's protector.

I'm not sure how I can handle that dichotomy in Adam except to watch as Wallace tears him down in every legal sense...thanks to the lawsuit brought by Adam's parents...and Dair sees the man is killing Adam all over again.

Or something like that. I dunno. It's early in the writing, yet. But it's getting me excited about the story, again.

Poetry...

Adam wrote a poem. In Quebecois. No idea if it's any good; I've never studied poetry and my French is crap...but it's at the end of chapter one, now.

Aucun ange
Celui
Qui s'est faufilé dans mon monde
Au-delà de la peur de ceux
Qui ne se soucient de rien

Aucune créature 

Celui 

Qui a l'habitude de se régaler 

D'un 

Sans armure 

Au-delà de sa connaissance 

C'est sa seule vérité

L'accepter 

C'est mentir à mon passé 

Sans 

Besoin de correction 

Pour moi 

Le connaître 

C'est rejeter tout ce que j'ai 

De moi-même 

Afin de pouvoir reconstruire 

Un monde dont 

Je pourrais être 

Plus qu'une partie

La terreur de tout ça 

Est exquise

Ma peur 

Me pousse 

À accepter 

La beauté qu'il offre. 

Pour que je puisse me reposer... 

Enfin... 

Enfin... 

Me reposer...

Translation:

No angel 

He 

Who slipped through my world 

Past fear of those 

Who care for nothing 

No creature

He

Whose wont to feast 

On one 

With no suit of armor 

Beyond his understanding 

Is his only truth 

To accept 

Him 

Is to lie to my past 

Without 

Need for correction

To know 

Him 

Is to reject all I hold 

And own 

Of myself 

So I might build anew 

A world in which I can be more 

Then a part of 

The terror of this 

Is exquisite

My fear 

Drives me 

To accept 

The beauty he offers

So I might rest... 

Finally... 

Finally... 

Rest...

Step away from the keyboard...

To an extent, I did. Just a bit of posting on FaceBook, Xitter and Instagram...while mainly staying away from the chaos. I've finally accepted the MAGAt Cult is not going to acknowledge their hypocrisy, and pointing it out to them is a waste of time. It's like trying to soothe a rabid dog. You can't; you'll just get bit.

So gazing upon this image of a meadow in Snoqualmie, Washington, helped shift me back to a version of self-control. What I found most interesting about the region was how the mountains jut up straight from the plain. No foothills leading you to the cliffs. So I'll need to change the description of the area in Dair's Window.

That led me to working with Adam to find his voice and transfer it to the page. I changed up the opening a bit and cut away a lot of chatter. Dropped a few hundred words. He's more melodious, now, so my focus will be to continue that through chapter two, when he's talking about being kicked out of his home for being gay.

I've decided to do his story through to the point of his death, then shift to Dair's. Adam's is first person; Dair's is third person, with comments from Adam sprinkled through. 

I'm wondering...the old argument about putting one space or two after a period, when typing, is back. I can go either way, so which would be easiest to read? Does it even really matter? I'm open to responses.

And obviously, I'm in a much better mood than yesterday.

Wrecked...

There was so much bullshit, today, I feel beaten to nothing. Depressed. Shaken. Melancholy even. Which used to be a medical term for women. Melancholia or something?

For a clinical explanation, melancholia is a severe form of major depressive disorder characterized by a profound loss of pleasure, a slowing of thought and activity, and feelings of despair and excessive guilt.

That's me to a fucking T, right now. I know much of it is due to the insane political situation we have, where the GOP has gone full MAGAt Cult and Democrats are barely even trying to fight back. Where Felon47 can tear down a large portion of the White House on a whim and steal money from the government with impunity. Where people are being attacked and imprisoned based on racism and hate. And there ain't jack shit I can do about that...except scream into the void.

I've been told I'm an empath, which is basically characterized by being highly attuned to the emotions and energies of others, often feeling them as if they were their own. Includes deep intuition, profound empathy, high sensitivity, and a strong drive to help others, that can lead to emotional exhaustion and stress.

Maybe. That could be why I only write stories about the rape and murder of men, and don't actually do it. I'm too connected to any pain I might cause.

But as I'm writing this, I haven't been able to re-set myself. Reboot me. Whatever. I'm half-hunched over, not sitting up straight or even comfortably. I'm in one of my lost phases and want nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the next few years away.

Which is not an option...dammit.

Shifting back on track...

I'm working at the office, tomorrow, probably not all day. Just checking paperwork for dealers coming to the US for Boston. Did one, today, that was intense. Found a couple errors that could have cost some money in fines. But that's why we do it.

Also made a meatloaf and a pot roast. The first in the oven, the latter in a crock pot. Turned out well but what a mess I make when cooking.

I'm still playing with the idea of doing coloring books for my characters, but not as seriously as I should, yet. More like for fun. I want to get Dair's Window done and it's going to take a lot of focus. I need to make certain it's not meandering too much.

There is a lot to the story...not just about Adam and Dair, but also their friends and family. How Dair's brother, Gareth, winds up trapped in a marriage with three daughters. And Marvo, a longtime gay friend, escaped an abusive relationship and drugs.

And...Adam's time in the porn industry, where he learned how to take care of himself...even at the expense of others. Something he plans to do with Dair but is softened by Dair's trust and caring when put in a position of providing him some protection from homophobes.

And we can't forget Jackson and Setsuko, who are having a kid, and Wallace's one-time involvement with him in Tokyo...with Setsuko's knowledge. Damn, this story is going to be as long as Don Quixote and Moby Dick, combined.

Nothing unusual, for me.

Mr. Self-indulgence

Didn't feel up to anything, today, so went to Panera for a salad. Then Wegman's for some groceries. Then WalMart for Sandwich Spread (since it's the only place in town that carries it). Then Tops to get the things I couldn't find at Wegman's. Then to home. All in a steady rain.

Made tostadas for dinner and used this evening to pull together images for a potential coloring book to illuminate my characters. One for the mainstream books and one for the erotica...and maybe one just for APoS? It's becoming very involved and expanding and a bit overwhelming. BA, alone, is 18 images.

I want to give a taste of everyone important in the books, but that may be overreaching. I'm up to 76 images, and that's really 3 coloring books. And a lot of work...and that's without even factoring in Dair's Window.

Oh, well...doesn't hurt to wonder about doing it...

I finally found and duplicated a file of Adam's ditties for DW, saving it to my desktop, to sprinkle through the story. I already know this story is going to take well over a year to write, if I want to do it correctly. Right now, I'm still digging through the massive amount of writing I've already done on it, much of which is effectively going into the bin.

Still on the tired side from the Seattle job, even though I slept really well, last night. Just got to keep getting up when it's morning. I could easily sleep past noon...but then, I usually got to bed between 2 and 3 am.

Total night owl.

What a weekend...

I flew to Seattle on Friday, pretty much on-time with my connections and everything. Got to my hotel...a Best Western right by SeaTac...and the WiFi was crap. I could barely get on, it was slow as shit, and I kept getting bumped off, like every five minutes, then put back on 5-10 seconds later.

I hate using my phone's hot-spot but had to in order to answer emails and prep for the fair move-out. It's owned by Caladex and I have no idea what the media costs are. When I ask I get shrugged off. So no recreational work done, online.

I rented a car for Saturday and drove up into the mountains along the 90, east of Seattle, to get a better idea of how it works up there. I wanted to get a feel for the are Dair's Window is set in, and I'm glad I did. Even though the story takes place in the first decade of this century, I could see where I was being unrealistic about a few aspects of the area. Better to know now than later.

I missed the No Kings demonstration, here, but will attend the next one, in Buffalo. I may even get an inflatable character to wear when I do it.

The fair went all right. I had 4 dealers to handle and had to shrink-wrap 4 pallets, which really wears you out if you do it right. I can only hope I did, because I don't normally do that kind of thing. But I was exhausted by the time it was done.

Walking back to the monorail, I saw this great image of the Space Needle so took a couple shots. I like this one, where it's reflected in the Museum of Pop Culture building. And the color is so right for near Halloween. Looks kind of like a space alien from a 50s horror film.

On the flights, there was minimal room so I read two books -- Hang On, St. Christopher by Adrian McKinty, which was good...though I do feel the ending was a bit rushed, and The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie...which was weird. It was published in 1929 and parts were funny, but it had a dozen characters running around calling each other by 2-3 different names, so got a bit confusing. And I didn't really buy the explanation.

My return flights were okay, though I did have to book it from the end of Concourse B to the end of Concourse A, in Denver, within 10 minutes to make my connection. And that flight had the most uncomfortable seats. But I got home...a bit late...and slept til 11:30am.