Derry, Northern Ireland

Derry, Northern Ireland
A book I'm working on is set in this town.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Back behind the plow...

Today I got more done in my quest to reach the end of The Vanishing of Owen Taylor. I'm at a point where Jake's got too much going on for him to be worried about him and Antony, like getting busted and beaten by some homophobic cops and dealing with a night in jail that nearly causes him to freak it's moving a bit faster. Whew.

I'm finally back to a stage where the story's going to be what it's going to be. I've found the theme is exactly what I thought it was -- why do people stay together, even when they've done horrible things to each other? Why does anyone put up with bad behavior by people they love? I pretty much state it in the opening sentence, which has not really changed since it got laid in -- "Why do you stay with Tone?"

Initially, Jake can't answer it except to point out what Antony did for him and how he loves the little twerp. And feels loyalty for him. Like a pet dog. But as the story goes along, he comes to understand the "why" has a deeper least, I hope he does. And when he does, I hope he'll tell me. Because I don't know yet. I just know I'm on the journey with him.

What I find especially interesting about this story is how Jake and Tone are not turning out to be a queer version of Ozzie and Harriet. I've read a number of gay novels and the relationships seem to be either sweet and wonderful, like Tim and Don in the Donald Strachey series of mysteries, or heavy into kink and hurt, like some things I read in The Depraved Minds club I belong to on GoodReads. It's more like Ozzie and Sharon Osborne. Which I don't mind. I don't begrudge my guys the rocky road, so long as it's more like the ice cream and less like the highway to hell.

I had an odd thought, last night, as I was lying in bed. November 1st begins National Novel Writing Month, in which you write a 50,000 word book in 30 days. I'd been thinking of doing that for The Alice '65 -- turning it into a novel. But this weird idea hit me -- to see just how far I could go if I wrote Carly Kills as a book, instead. I could probably get away with a lot more. Sex. Violence. Rock and roll with a Spanish guitar. And make it adverb-less, in a Stephen King style. Could be my straight version of How To Rape A Straight Guy.

So...think the world needs that?

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