The Battle of Bogside

Continuing from yesterday:

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Night of Broken Glass

Constables roar into the Bogside to beat up and destroy anything they can, cynically focusing on areas already slated for demolition. When they hear the men getting close, Brendan has Mairead hide in the outside toilet with Maeve and Kieran, then slips Rhuari over their neighbor's yard to toss stones over to him. He builds up a pile until the RUC reaches their house, bursts in and begins breaking everything apart. Then he slings the stones at them as hard and fast as he can, and it seems as if there are several others with him. This forces the constables back, for a moment.

During the respite, Brendan gets Mairead, Maeve and Kieran over to join Rhuari, since has finished trashing their neighbor's home, and lets the constables find him sitting alone in the back yard. He asks if they're done so he can get to work cleaning up. They search for all the others but find none so beat him. They would arrest him but news photographers are around and he's bloodied and looks like he's only ten. They leave while making threats.

Brendan enters the house to find everything wrecked. Mairead finally comes back and finds him seated near the back window. He has Bernadette's Dresden figurine and says he thinks he can fix it well-enough. She takes him to Mrs. O'Canainn's, down the way, and he's fixed up, fed a stew and given a glass of ale...then sleeps from exhaustion.

With Tur's help, he replaces the broken window panes and they get replacement furniture, then a couple months later they're moved to a house on Clíodhna Place. It's larger with an indoor toilet and a real garden hutch in the back yard. Danny helps Brendan fix things up. Mairead reveals Tur has asked her to marry him, so Brendan, Tur and Danny make the hutch into a room for them. Danny does so well with the wiring, Tur suggests he apprentice as an electrician, which makes him very happy. Then Tur and Mairead are wed and move in, with their first born slated for birth in October. 

Semi-New World

Because Christmas had been quiet, Mairead initiates Christmas, again, with their new neighbors, all of whom the family already knew. The previous tenants were not liked, and Brendan only knew one of their nine children. Now the Kinsellas live between the Keoghs, whose children are all grown and off to other lands, and the Whites, whose three wild sons Brendan knows too well but was protected from by being mates with Colm. Around them are the Haggertys, the Paynes, the Sellars, the Dohertys, the McCorys, and the Mahons, all with children too old or too young for Brendan to bother with but whom Rhuari, Maeve and Kieran can join.

Snow and the shift to a new currency for the British pound keeps Brendan and Danny busy; Colm is rarely around but always has some pot or a bottle to share. Paidrig is kept home to watch his nieces and nephews while his sisters-in-law work a shirt factory. Mairead has to stop work so Tur is the only income. Wee Eammon is ill, again, and his mother even more frantic so when the Chinas do meet, it's in a burned out building to hide from her. There they play cards, smoke pot and drink.

Then comes the gathering in Guildhall Square to commemorate the 1916 uprising. RUC constables behave like wild beasts, again, and so badly injure Mr. Devanny, a man who'd stayed home that day, he died a few months later. His funeral was attended by everyone, Brendan included. There's political chaos in Belfast, half fomented by Ian Paisley, and nothing is being achieved. Brendan is still treated poorly by his mother while Eamonn is being drawn deeper into the Nationalist cause.

One day, Mrs. McKittrick waylays Brendan and asks him to repair her watch but have Eamonn bring it to her. He's wary about it but does so and learns Eamonn has broken up with the woman. She moves away in the middle of marching season, when Protestants celebrate gaining control of Ireland's north. There is rioting on July 12th, mainly in Belfast where people were burned out of their homes. Neither side is talking to the other, by this point.

The Battle of Bogside

August 12th is a Protestant celebration for the apprentice boys who shut the gates of Derry against a Catholic army, and Apprentice boys march around Derry to lord it over Catholics in insulting ways. Brendan tries to finish some business before the march but is caught in it and is affected by the boiling anger in the Catholic community. The RUC does its usual thing of beating people, but this time they are finding themselves in a real fight. Rocks are thrown as well as fists, and Brendan joins in.

Catholic youths and men retreat up Waterloo and William into the Bogside. Barricades are built and the RUC is battered by the nonstop hail of rocks and firebombs. Buildings go up in flames. Constables fire rubber bullets. Tear gas is shot into the area, affecting everyone -- old, young, participant, not, male, female -- but the cannisters are also slung back at the constables. Brendan makes firebombs, nonstop, with wee Eammon's help. Colm and Danny ferry them up to the top of Rossville Flats, nine-story apartment buildings in the middle of the fighting, and the RUC cannot keep them from raining down on them.

Wee Eammon is badly affected by the tear gas and lost his inhaler, so Brendan races to his flat to get his spare then takes him to Creggan. He finds Ma, his sisters and brothers at the Devlin's. Word is the Irish Army is setting up a field hospital across the border. Looking back down the hill at the Bogside remind Brendan of painting of 19th Century battles. He returns to the fight and uses a mask soaked in vinegar against the gas, but it does little good.

There is no stopping for two days. Bernadette Devlin comes to help organize the barricades, as do others. A radio station broadcasts updates from a shortwave radio setup. Rumors fly that Protestant hoards are forming to support the RUC because there are riots in sympathy in Belfast and other cities so the constables are stretched thin. Brendan wonders how they can keep it up. They are running low on fuel and bottles and exhaustion is threatening to take over. He thinks of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, as learned in school, and how it turned out -- obliteration.

Then comes word the British Army is en route. Fear spreads. This will the end of it. They cannot hold out against the army. Suddenly, there is silence. The army is heard marching in...then seen...but instead of attacking the citizens they set up barricades of their own and put themselves between the Bogside and RUC. With a wild joy, Brendan realizes they have won the battle.

Continuing...

Coming to a pivotal point for Brendan...

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A Long Walk

New Year's Day, 1969, The People's Democracy Walk begins and is harassed along the way by Protestants, especially followers of Ian Paisley, who is virulently anti-Catholic. The RUC offers minimal protection and sometimes obstruction. People in Derry follow it on the BBC and radio news, and anger grows at how the marchers are treated as condemnation comes not only from London but also Sinn Fein.

Brendan catches a news image of Eamonn on the march while watching at Danny's house, and keeps checking to see if local protestants are planning any attacks. But there is no buildup of rocks or clubs on the Catholic side of the Foyle. Then on the Third, he takes a lamp to a Protestant woman in The Fountain and is treated brusquely, tries to find Billy but sees he's gone and runs over to a demonstration at the Guildhall. Hundreds of Protestants led by Major Bunting have taken refuge inside the building, intending to disrupt the march, but thousands of Catholics surround it and make threats.

As the crowd disperses, Brendan finds Mairead and Tur and learns some are bussing up to Claudy to join the marchers in the last leg of their walk into Derry. Brendan wants to join them but Bernadette is furious with him for leaving the front door open and slaps him, despite Mai trying to come between them. Brendan tells her he wasn't paid for the lamp, which is a lie, then as his mother talks with neighbors and disparages him in comparison with Eamonn, he decides to walk to Claudy once everyone is asleep.

Claudy

Brendan manages to get out of Derry, with difficulty, and only knows Claudy is down the Dungiven Road. He knows that it runs in front of Altnagelvin hospital so locates it and head on. He loves the solitude and the silence, punctuated only by the sounds of wild nightlife. It's cold and the sky overcast, but he sings The Banks of Claudy as he walks along in the darkness. It's the song from the B side of the Johnstons' record. He pretends Joanna would have joined him, would have agreed with him that people should be allowed to be who they are, and considers just walking on forever, away from Derry and his mother.

Then he hears voices and the clicking of stones being tossed about. He hides when he sees an RUC vehicle coming, then locates where the rocks are...and sees Billy helping lay up stones and cudgels. Before he can get away, he's caught by a constable but, for a moment, convinces the men he's Protestant and learns they will be attacking the marchers, when they pass at Burntollet Creek.

They figure out Brendan is Catholic, so he kicks them and runs off to hide from the constables, then tries to warn people who are en route to Claudy of what the Protestants are planning, but is not believed. One woman who knows him tells people he's simple, so all he can hope is that she will tell Eamonn and he will believe Brendan's warning. Hungry and exhausted, Brendan falls asleep and wakes to the sound of ambulance sirens. The marchers were attacked and he fears the Protestants are slaughtering them.

Altnagelvin

Brendan races up the road to Claudy but happens on a car in a ditch. The driver is unconscious, thanks to a large stone through the driver's window, and there are hurt people are in the back. One mentions Eamonn was hurt. Brendan takes over, gets the car out of the ditch and follows an ambulance to Altnagelvin Casualty, even though he doesn't drive.

Brendan can get no one to tell him if Eamonn has been brought in till a doctor shows him a couple of injured lads, and one is his brother. Unconscious, but he'll be all right; he's being kept till the morning as a precaution. Brendan is taken to the intake desk to give them a name and contact information, and he is to be fed, but he is treated with hostility by the clerk. Hungry, he buys fish and chips from the cafe and goes back to sit by Eamonn, who finally wakes. He tells Brendan a little about the brutal attack, angrily referring to the men who did it as animals...but he had trouble focusing and finally drifts back to sleep.

A nurse comes in and snaps at Brendan that his mother and Father Jack are looking for him. She notices blood on his clothing, but he tells her it is brown sauce (HP Sauce)Bernadette is furious and slaps him, over and over, until Father Jack stops her. She's taken to Eamonn and Brendan is taken to the lavatory to clean up. He excuses himself to use the toilet then nearly collapses into sobs from the fear he'd felt and his fury at those who'd tried to kill his brother. He fights to keep Father Jack from hearing until he can regain control.

En route home, Brendan realizes Father Jack is quietly excited about the attack, thinking it will help their cause. Mixed with his evasions to questions about Father Demian and Danny, Brendan now knows he cannot trust him. At home, Mairead notices Brendan has changed in some way. He cleans up and tells them of his trip over dinner...then that night the RUC comes busting into the Bogside to reassert their dominance in the most violent way possible

I found a major timing issue while doing the step outline -- At the beginning of a chapter I have Brendan's family moving to a new house before Christmas when it needs to be some months afterwards. Also, he had an Apollo 8 cap when he should have had an Apollo 7, due to the timing. So I've rewritten it  to where Mairead talks their new neighbors into doing a belated Christmas celebration and it helps.

Here's more of the outline, in order from yesterday:

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Barking Dogs

March set up for October 5, 1968 despite opposition from Protestants and misgivings by Catholics. Brendan excited about it while repairing a camera for a man to photograph the march. He comes home to find Mairead getting cozy with Turlach Devlin, son of the owner of Devlin's Furniture, and is promised more fix-it jobs at the shop. Bernadette is still trying to get the Mayor to allocate them a new home because their place is falling apart. So far, no luck.

March happens on a Saturday when Derry's football team has a home game so only hundreds there, not the thousands expected. Brendan is with Colm, Danny and wee Eammon. His brother, Eamonn, is mixed in with the crowd. Starting on the Protestant side of the Foyle river, near the train depot. Colm is wary, Danny joyous. RUC has officers out in force, saying the march is illegal. Speeches are made. News crews all over. Brendan sees Billy with his rabid Unionist uncle, watching the crowd, and also sees Tommy. 

The march starts...and the Constables attack. Vicious beatings as the crowd is hemmed in on both sides. Water cannons. Brendan and wee Eammon are soaked, and the smaller lad comes down with pneumonia. His mother blames Brendan and attacks him, and Bernadette allows it. Mairead calms them both. Eamonn comes home with his sports coat torn and bloody but claiming, "It's over for them." But Brendan pays attention to the news and what's in the papers, including the Protestant ones, and has his doubts, especially after reading some of the lectures by Ian Paisley. 

Adjustments 

Eamonn joins with the People's Democracy and comes home for Christmas talking about plans for a long walk from Belfast to Derry starting on January 1st. Bernadette talks about Da going to Liverpool and Eamonn takes Brendan away before he can correct her lie. They talk about the march while walking, Eamonn very idealistic about it with Brendan wary. Then Eamonn asks why Brendan keeps going against their mother.

Brendan recalls a confrontation with his mother that caused a constable to intervene, the year before. During this, he revealed he knew about the money sent by Aunt Mari. He also blurted out that he gives money to Mairead because it goes to the family instead of a rich organization like the Catholic Church. Eamonn gives Brendan advice on avoiding confrontations with their mother, then he buys a gift for Mrs. McKittrick. Brendan says nothing about know her.

A Deepening Dream 

Eamonn heads back to Belfast with a blanket, food and money given to him by Bernadette, who does it with sly jabs at Brendan, even though she will not let him join the march. Father Jack, Colm, Danny and Paidrig come along to see Eamonn off on the bus, and Brendan is wearing an Apollo 7 Cap sent to him by Aunt Mari, for Christmas. Father Jack is very enthused about the walk, but Brendan is wary. He knows of people like Major Bunting and Ian Paisley working up the Loyalist crowd and is sure there will be trouble along the way.

Brendan is more comfortable with Father Jack than Father Demian. He remembers a meeting he had with the man, after his argument with Bernadette by Edmiston's, where the man tried to convince him the church did good with the money. It wasn't working, so Father Demian began to stroke Brendan's hand, which made him uncomfortable. They argued and the man slapped him and sent him from the room.

General opinion about the walk is split between support and certainty that commies are doing this just to hurt the church. Jackie and Aidan are not joining the march, but Eamonn is treated well by all. They see Mrs. McKittrick near the bus depot. Brendan sees the look that passed between them and feels sorry for her. Then he and his mates head up Shipquay for Wee Johnny's, to look at comics...but Brendan sees Joanna, ditches his mates and follows her into Woolworths. He watches her dance to a record -- Never Shall I Marry by the Johnstons. She sees him looking and smiles, so when she exits he buys that record to give to her but she's gone. He pretends he stole the record to quiet his mother, and that night masturbates to the image of Joanna dancing.

A few more sections...

Continuing from yesterday, more distillations of APoS into an outline, of sorts:

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Life Expansions

It's 1968 and Brendan is twelve. On his birthday, he helps Mr. O'Faelan fix his taxi's heater near the bus depot. He sees Joanna Martin for the first time as he's washing his hands in a pool of water by the curb and falls in love with her beauty. He decides to keep himself extra clean, for the next time he sees her. Eamonn is planning to become a barrister and Mairead is working at a shirt factory. Brendan has no interest in going to college; he just wants to be left alone and fix things. Eamonn's noticed Brendan gives Mairead money and Brendan sees he's not able to keep a secret so shrugs it off.

Brendan thinks about Joanna and gets his first erection...and finds it's hurting him. Badly. Eamonn wakes Bernadette and they call for an ambulance to take him to Altnagelvin hospital. She's angry because she thinks he was abusing himself, but it turns out he has phimosis and needs to be circumcised. He stays in hospital for a week, enjoying himself, then recuperates at home for another week. His Chinas drop by to play games and smoke, and he gets lots of little repair jobs so wonders why he needs to continue with school. Father Jack has replaced Father Demian, who was rumored to be too free and easy with his hands and boys. First hints that Danny was molested by him. The new priest consistently tells Brendan he's not living up to his potential, but Brendan is set on going his own way.

Mr. Motor Boy

Brendan starts doing odd work fixing cars. Rhuari is getting lost in his books, Mairead and Maeve working a garden. Eamonn has new friends so stays out late, a lot. Brendan's working on a clock when he comes in and they talk about the new hope in the world. John Hume leading the push. References the May riots in France and assassinations of Martin Luther King and how Robert Kennedy is running for President. Talk of marches in push for civil rights in NI, Eamonn joining in with it.

Eamonn asks about Brendan's circumcision and all is fine, then Eamonn reveals he's sleeping with a married woman. Brendan worries about the gossip if people find out. Eamonn comments no one know what's going on in Brendan's quiet little head. Goes to sleep. Brendan remembers Joanna and masturbates to her...and when he ejaculates fears he's broke something. But there's no blood so he sleeps, as well.

Marching Season

Protests throughout the city and area, calling for civil rights. Most on weekends, with anger growing. Colm begins drifting to a new crowd, Paidrig with him. Eamonn more involved. Brendan at protests but still stand-offish. Not sure it will achieve anything, nor is he impressed with Father's Jack's careful words. Church worried protests are communist-influenced.

Eamonn planning to attend Queen's College in Belfast so becomes the perfect man in the family while Brendan is more disparaged for being willing to do fix-it jobs for Protestants. Leads to a nasty confrontation with Bernadette while he's waiting for Danny and wee Eammon. Brings on a memory of seeing her and his father jumping into each other's arms to have sex, and he finally realizes his mother and father had loves the fights between themselves and she needed someone to abuse now that he was gone...and Brendan was it.

He, Danny and wee Eammon wander around bored, smoking, which Eammon's mother smells on them and tosses a fit; he has asthma. Brendan sees dogs chase a tom cat, about to kill it but the cat spins into a frenzy, spooks the dogs and gets away. Brendan goes home with Danny and they get drunk. Brendan sleeps in, the next morning, then Bernadette throws his breakfast on the floor when he comes down. He sneers and eats it, anyway.

Standoff

Silent truces between Brendan and his mother. Eamonn is off to Queens for orientation so Brendan and Mai get him a new sports coat. Have a table from Devlin's Furniture and he talks of the school, new friends, how they want the same things as him. Mentions two Derry friends will be with him, there -- Jackie Brennan and Aidan Dunn, then heads out for a meeting. Brendan's ordered not to go but sneaks out to follow Eamonn, who actually goes to a Mrs. McKittrick's house. Uncertain, Brendan peeks inside to see if there is a meeting and catches Eamonn and the older woman having sex on the divan. He runs off, shaken at how ugly it looked.

Brendan wanders about, a fog settling in about him, and thinks of how redevelopment in the Bogside has made Derry look like London in the blitz. Wonders if his father was in Belfast when it was hit by Nazi bombs, and recalls a moment when Da cursed after Father Demien and Bernadette tended to him, gently. It makes him wonder more about his father's unknown past. Then he hears police whistles and running feet, and helps Danny escape capture by the RUC. Danny suggests they go to the circle fort.

Grianan Aileach

Brendan and Danny cross into the Republic and head up to the fort, atop a hill. Silent until they get there and Danny's friends whisk up on two bicycles -- Tommy, Connor, Shane, and Brian (Boru to you) on a Schwinn and a Huffy banana bike. Tommy knows Eamonn from a demonstration at Dungannon, where he calmed down a confrontation with Protestants. Slip into the fort and Brendan climbs to the top to look out over the beauty around him. Sees Brian sneak into a hidden space at the base of the walls and bring out bottles of whiskey and bags of pot from a smugglers' stash. 

Brendan smokes for the first time after Danny shows him how. Gets stoned and somewhat drunk, and falls in love with just looking at the stars above him. Then Colm shows up, angry. He's one of the smugglers and is shocked Brendan is there, but Danny tells him it's his first time. Brian jumps Colm, helped by Shane and Connor, but Brendan helps Colm fight back. Danny stops the fight with a sharp whistle because Tommy has pulled a knife. Danny talks him down and they leave Brendan with Colm.

Bernadette is angry with Brendan for sneaking out but he snaps back at her. Eamonn takes him out for a walk and they run into Mrs. McKittrick, so Brendan wanders away and sits atop the walls to look out over the Bogside, growing depressed. He wonders if his life will be like that of the people who live in the cramped ugly houses, and is finally afraid of what almost happened, at the fort. But the next day, Colm tells him, "You backed me up, me China. "I won't forget that." And Brendan feels proud, again.

Distillation...

It's interesting how condensing each chapter into a paragraph or two is helping me see the story more sharply. I'm going slow to make sure I get the important beats...but here are the first three chapters -- oh, and the Rossville Flats, which figure greatly in the story, are the two tallish buildings in the center right of the photo; the third one is not easily visible. But that's the part of the city that is the Bogside...

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In the Beginning

It's February 1966, and Brendan has just turned ten years of age. He speaks about Eamonn Kinsella, his father, and the man's brutal murder. He's not sorry the man is dead because he was a drunken brute who beat his wife and sons, but he also finds others thought well of him and that he sang and wove stories in pubs in exchange for drinks. He also comments a bit on the history of Derry (Londonderry), Northern Ireland, and how Catholics are oppressed by Protestants in the town...which is why his father is made into a martyr; he was Catholic and the men who tortured him to death were Protestant. 

Child of the Groundhog 

Brendan introduces himself and his family. Eamonn, older brother named after their father; Mairead, older sister; Rhuari, younger brother; Maeve, younger sister; and another about to be born, named Kieran. His mother's name is Bernadette and she treats Brendan poorly, calling him simple even though he is very good at fixing things. They live in a terrace home off Nailors Row that is almost falling down, but this is not uncommon in the Bogside area of Derry. 

Bernadette is not happy her sister, Mari, married an American named Sean McNanamarra and lives in Houston, Texas, and she hates her brothers for abandoning her and her sister to an orphanage. But Mari sends money in monthly letters, which Mairead finds out about. learns a lot of it is given to Father Demian, their parish priest for murky reasons, and takes over. Mairead also convinces their parents it's okay for Eamonn to go to university, since Bernadette wanted him to get a job, instead, and talks Eamonn the elder into working more so his son can focus on his studies. There is more background about their parents, questions about their past, more details regarding Derry's history of being controlled by Protestants despite being a Catholic town. 

The Chinas 

Despite going to mass every Sunday and having lots of kids in his neighborhood, Brendan has few friends because he prefers to fix toys, radios and toasters and such rather than play with the other boys. Also, Bernadette is fanatical about keeping clean. His only real mates are Colm O'Faelan, whose father drives a taxi; Danny Gallagher, whose father is porter for their local parish church and whose mother is also a clean freak; Pardrig, who's a hanger-on of Colm's and whose family are not known to be hard workers; and wee Eammon, the only child of an abandoned woman. They became friends over a football match and they are the one who drag Brendan into a somewhat normal life. He also becomes friends with two Protestant boys -- Billy and Gerry. They call each other China thanks to Brendan Behan's book, Borstal Boy. 

More is revealed about Brendan keeping some of the money he makes from his mother, and how harsh she is with him. Mairead is handling the household finances so Brendan gives her some. He's also a quick thinker, as shown by how he gets Billy and himself away from some boys who want to beat them, and how he is able to work the RUC (police) when he and Colm are arrested for a confrontation with some Protestant boys...but that starts a rift between Brendan and Billy and Gerry. Bernadette is politically active with the Nationalists and brooks no dissent about Mother Ireland and the fight for equality against the Protestants.

Freak out time...

I had one of my emotional downturns, now that this draft of APoS is done. Telling myself it's a mess. That it's got too much going on yet is still shallow and doesn't reflect the time period or the people of Derry. On and on, starting as I went to bed, last night, and keeping me half-awake. Kind of rough and sent me spiraling into depression.

So I woke up, irritable, and decided I'd run some errands -- bank, PO, buy Christmas cards and a few groceries, pick up a prescription, face he insane traffic of Black Friday -- instead of anything else. That helped minimize my tendency to tear myself to pieces.

What also helped put me back on the road to control was, on a whim I went to Talking Leaves Book Shop to get my cards. I prefer those that are unusual and found a great set that will do nicely. But I also found a new translation of Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote, done by Edith Grossman. It's been years since I even tried to read that book and I only got through part of it, but the first pages of this one caught me so I got it.

It reminded me of how I hadn't liked Gone With the Wind the first two times I tried to read it. And how I'd found War and Peace to be thick and dull the first time in my first attempt at that. But both of these were solid works of literature that have lasted, and both of which I did like when I tried, again, to read them at later points in my life. Now W&P (and Anna Karenina) are two of my favorite all-time books, despite Russia's current atrocities in Ukraine.

Then I recalled how John Fowles, who's not exactly a lightweight literary author, published a revised version of The Magus in 1977, 12 years after it was first published and despite it having received critical and commercial success at the time. Those memories led me to one where Rob Reiner, who directed The Princess Bride, which was a huge success, supposedly went to William Goldman years after the movie was out and told him that he had shot one scene all wrong and had just figured out the right way to do it.

It's kind of silly, I know, but these snippets helped get me back on track. If John Fowles and Rob Reiner are second guessing themselves, I shouldn't be so freaked out that I am, too.

Tomorrow, I'm starting on a full outline of the three books as they currently stand. I think I'll need that to show a potential agent. It will also help keep me on track and consistent with the characters and story. I think I have Brendan, Colm, Danny, Paidrig, Eamonn and the rest set up properly...but I probably have more work to do on his mother to make her motives more settled. But that's fine. Feedback is coming.

So now I'm also going to read all of Don Quixote, to the end.

More writing done...

 As is my wont, I realized I hadn't written one section of APoS correctly so went in and redid it...which led to another part needing to be adjusted...which led to another rewrite and polish of other areas, and now I know I'm doing a draft 5. It's 29 chapters, at the moment, still at 582 pages, and now closer to 133,000 words.

BUT...I got a couple of friends whose opinions I trust to say they would read it and give me feedback. So now I'll be waiting for them before I do any further work on it.

So made Thanksgiving dinner -- turkey with craisins, mashed potatoes with homemade gravy (you can tell by the lumps), sweet potato and creamed corn. With a Guinness. Then I sorted through a pile of paperwork and most of it's sorted away. Had more of my Wolfenoot cake a bit ago, with some milk and am now feeling very sleepy. I may go to bed early; I'm braving Black Friday to pick up a prescription refill, hit the bank and the PO. Such fun.

Over the weekend I'll be pulling together more agents to query about the book. I've decided I'd rather not self-publish it through Ingram. They've become difficult to deal with. If I ask for a report of how many copies of each title I've sold for 2022, I'm sent a blank Excel Spreadsheet. No figures in it, at all. If I ask for the report in a PDF, they send me one that tells me the total sales only, doesn't break them down by title.

If I contact customer service and tell them that their reporting system isn't working, they tell me how to get a report...through the reporting system that isn't working. It's like they don't read for comprehension. So I have to go back and forth with them, over and over, till they finally get me what I'm asking for. It's irritating.

That on top of them withdrawing HTRASG from distribution without telling me then getting angry with me for demanding an answer as to why suggests it's best if I avoid them. Once I'm done with APoS, I may look into another home for all my titles. I own the ISBNs so can take them anywhere.

Too bad; Ingram used to be so good.

Draft 4 of APoS is done.

 I've got a budding headache from eyestrain, but the fucker is through this draft and ready to sit for a while to give me some space. I am so written out, right now.

I've also asked on Facebook for someone to read it and give me feedback on whether or not it's actually working. I'm way too close to be objective. Dunno if I'll get any takers. It's over 132,500 words long.

I guess I may need to renew the copyright on the story. I set that up some years ago, when it was in 2nd draft...but we'll see. I need to dig into my paperwork to see and right now I just can't think. But Thanksgiving is going to be great. I'll watch Miracle on 34th Street (1947), again.

I had some fun with a little holiday made up by a 7 year-old boy -- Wolfenoot. The attached image has an explanation of it. I made a pot roast with potatoes and carrots that was cooked to perfection. I dumped a chuck steak, onion, french onion soup packet and water into a crock pot and let it cook for 12 hours, on low, before adding the potatoes and carrots.

I also made a cake for the first time in years. I'd tried to make it white, but I used whole eggs instead of just egg whites so it came out yellow. Still...I licked the bowl.

However...the frosting was chocolate fudge and I managed to work up something of a design of a wolf howling at the moon on it, using a tube of something or other. Tasted good, every bit of dinner...as it better have because it was not cheap.

But I have leftovers.

60 pages left in APoS...

 I got through Bloody Sunday, making sure to keep it a bunch of impressions and not a blow-by-blow account, since it's all from Brendan's POV. He's with Colm and is almost hit by a bullet. When it's calmed down, he wanders away, in shock, runs into a lady who's worse off than him, emotionally, and makes it home. Has no idea where Colm is, and finds out his mother saw some people killed as well. But it doesn't bring them together. They have a quiet vicious argument because Brendan's decided to leave Derry.

He also finally finds out why his mother has treated him poorly -- because he was like none of her other children, more an alien creature because of his calmness and focus and unwillingness to bend to her will, like Eamonn is doing. It's cold and harsh and only comes out because all emotional barriers are down.

Next comes Brendan taking Joanna to the circle fort and then getting his papers set to leave. He's sixteen so can legally do what he wants, and his aim is to join with a cruise ship. All he needs is his mother's permission, which he forges. His plan is to build up some money until Joanna finds out which college she's going to then settle there to be with her.

Something that's come up during this draft is a question in my mind as to whether or not Joanna is as caught up in this relationship as Brendan is. Sometimes it seems like she is; other times it's like she's just playing at it. I may leave it that ambiguous, but I do need to know for myself which way it is, and she's being coy.

You never know with women...or even most men...

The rest of yesterday's chapter....

 I'm working on the Bloody Sunday chapter so here's the remains of what I posted, yesterday.

-------

Danny's voice was soft. "The way that fook was...was grabbin' at me an'...an' we almost...almost got...almost got snatched...and...and...Jesus, Bren..." 

Cough. 

"But we didn't, did we?" Danny continued. His voice had strength growing in it, again. He rubbed my back; it helped some. "That was some punch you took." 

I could only shrug, my throat was so raw. 

"And that story you pulled..." 

I shook my head and tried to crouch down, to end the aching and the coughing and to hide the slashing memories of that interrogation that cut into me and not let myself get lost in understanding just how close I'd come to it happening, again, but Danny stopped me. 

"Lean back against the wall," he said. "Flat. It helps more." 

I didn't want to, but his eyes were gentle and far too sure as he pushed me by my shoulders. It was cold, even through my coat, but he was right. I could feel the ache become manageable and my coughing slow. 

And the memories slow. 

And fade...fade...fade to nothing. 

My Chinas just stood by me. Kept watch for me until finally I managed to choke out, "That...fat bastard...he pulled the same...with me. Even more. Just used it...back...on him." Then another fucking cough...but only the one before I could stop it. 

"Even more?" said Danny. "You...you better, now?" 

I nodded. Cough. Soft but still...DAMMIT! 

"Colm," I garbled, "the...the story about you...it...it near happened to...to (cough) to Diarmaid. Being a bloody eejit. (Cough.) I just...changed it a little." 

Colm ran his good hand through his hair, eyeing me like I was a stranger. "I'd never have come up with something so simple and believable. By now I'd be down Strand Road." 

I could think of nothing more to say. I was still bordered on madness from near going through that interrogation, again, and I couldn't stop thinking of how much harder they'd been on Tur and what it did to him, a full-grown man and...and to think of Colm and Danny...Danny!...going through that, as well...it had my brain caught in a spin, and I started to shake, again. 

Colm finally noticed and his face grew gentle, then he calmly said, “C’mon, me China, let’s to home.” 

His bad arm was at his side so Danny helped him put it back in the sling. I managed to start walking, that bloody cough still popping up, but only now and again. Colm and Danny paced me. My shaking eased... 

Till we turned onto Clíodhna. I saw Ma looking out the door and she saw me and her face screwed into something that told me I was for it, again. She'd gone back to her old self, now that Mai and the wains were gone, picking and angry and demanding. So out she burst to slap me. 

“Where've you been?!” she screamed. "I've been looking for you for hours and..." 

Colm got between us and said, “It was the checkpoints, Mrs. Kinsella.” 

“What're you doing beyond the Bogside! Why would you need to be through them and what's this with your arm?!” 

“You’re lucky we’re home, at all, and not off to Long Kesh. Bren kept us from arrest.” 

“You and your lyin' ways, coverin' for each other! What could any of you know that they might want?” She slapped the back of my head and grabbed my collar to yank me inside and... 

“Mrs. Kinsella!" It was Colm's voice, but sharp and cold. A man speaking, not a boy. We all jolted and looked at him, startled. “I’ll ask you not to hit Brendan, again.“ 

Other women had come out to see the commotion and if it could make for some good craic, and all were focused on us. Christ, this curiosity could go both good and bad for any. 

Ma glared at Colm. “You’ll mind your own business, me boy, or...” 

He took a step closer and his eyes were dark and dangerous. 

Ma fell into silence and stepped back. For the first time since Da died, I saw fear in her face. 

That stopped my shaking, and I said, “Colm! Won’t...won't they check my story? Do you know if...if McClosky’ll back us up? He knows me but not you.” 

Colm's voice was like ice. “He will. Once Diarmaid knows.” 

“Best get to him," Danny said, back to being quick and cool. He was firing up a Marlboro. I'd forgotten we had those. "Set it straight," he continued, smoke whispering from him. "They always move fast when we don't think they will.” 

Colm nodded, his eyes locked on Ma. 

Danny noticed me eyeing the smoke so pulled out a fresh one, fired it off his and handed it to me. I inhaled, and it was regular tobacco. I could have wept from gratitude. If we'd been snatched and the illegal found on us, we'd have been at Long Kesh till I was seventy. I saluted him, saying, "I owe you a pack," as I let the smoke out. 

He shook his head, smiling. "Bren...you're me China." 

Colm gave me a pat on my shoulder. “You’re a cool one, Bren. I’m glad you’re with us, not them. Danny?” 

He looked between Ma and me then nodded his head. "Thanks for the offer, Bren, but I've much to discuss with Colm. May not even sleep before tomorrow's bus. Another time?" Then he winked at me. 

He was our Danny, again. 

I nodded back, sort of smiled at them, and they quietly vanished into the darkness. 

Which shocked me. I hadn't realized night had fallen. On top of it, the women had already returned inside their homes, which I'd not even thought about. I needed to start paying better attention to my surroundings. I was getting too focused on nothing, of late. 

That's when I turned to Ma...and fucking coughed...and said, “I...I’d not call Colm a liar, again. I don’t think he’d like it.” 

Then I went up to my room and sat in my bed and gazed out the window at that ugly bloody yard, behind us. It was clouded up and dreary, so no stars available, but still I did not move. I tried not to let myself think. But the whole situation came crashing in on me and all I could see was how easily that one little encounter could have gone to hell had Danny freaked out and fought the fat bastard, with those soldiers and their batons and gun, he could've been just another dead Irish punk, to them, all three of us could have been and...and...I had to fight to make those thoughts leave my head. 

And fight. 

And fight. 

I had no tea, that night. Just sat on my bed till I lost all thought and woke, the next morning, still in my clothes and facing the window. With my brain finally, blessédly blank...except about that record player I needed to finish fixing. 

To no surprise, McClosky actually was contacted by the RUC and he backed us up. As a way of thanks, he was allowed to skip one week’s payment for protection. How kind of our betters. 

Mr. Devlin wasn’t so well-treated. I learned later that some men from Belfast had forced him to give over a fine, of sorts, for Tur leaving. It gave out the wrong idea that they couldn't protect their own. 

Eamonn's fucking words, and even more worthless. And stupid. 

Those who knew of it figured they just needed some extra coin from him and that was their excuse. But all that did was convince him he should close the shop and join his sons. He was in the process of preparing to do so when, three days before my sixteenth birthday, the hell I'd feared came knocking at the door. 

Again, courtesy of the stupid fucking British.

I will have draft 4 done by Thanksgiving...

Deepening the emotional aspect of the scenes is working for me. Today, this is one I redid -- after Brendan, Colm and Danny were at the Magilligan Strand demonstration, not far from Derry. Colm was hit in the arm by a rubber bullet and he can't use it. Brendan suspects Danny was molested by a parish priest and still suffers PTSD from it.

------

The bus let us off at Guildhall and we headed for William. 

"Do you have some smokes, Colm?" I asked. 

He shook his head. 

"Two packs on me," Danny said, wary. 

"Marlboros?" He nodded. "That should be enough." 

And normally would have been, but the checkpoint was manned by a pack of very angry soldiers, none of whom I'd seen before. Save one...maybe. They slammed us against a wall, telling us to put our hands up on it and to spread our legs so they could maul us with full abandon. But Colm couldn’t raise his hurt arm. A Sergeant grabbed it to look closer at his injury, making him cry out from the pain. 

"What's this?" he snarled at Colm. "Bloody rioter?" 

He started to rip Com's Anorak off, causing even more pain to him. 

I was still in control, for we were outside, not in a room, so gave a small laugh and shot in with, “Me mate? Rioting? Couldn't throw straight to save himself. He was just playin’ the cod, is all.“ 

“Shut the fook up, ye fookin’ taig.” 

I shrugged. “Call me what you want, but I was workin' on a car, at McClosky’s, and me mate went actin’ stupid and got under it to play and kicked it off its block. This is from the rear wing hittin' him as it fell. Me boss tied his arm and it took the three of us to set the car right.” 

"On a St'ruday?" 

"Who said it happened today?" 

“Ye fookin’ liar! Ye fix cars? A nobody like yerself?” 

I snorted, this time. “I can fix any car there is!” 

He smiled at me, cold and hard. “Yeah? I got a Defender leaks oil. Nobody can tell me why. All the seals are good and no cracks in the block. What the fookin' shite is wrong wit’ it?” 

“What’s the year?” 

“...Sixty-one.” 

“Model” 

“S-4.” 

“Is the head tight?” 

“’Course it fookin’ is.” 

“Sure of that? If you put a normal jointing on, it needs to twice be turned, to be sure. I used double joints and compounds when I fixed Dr. Wiler’s; went hard on the fastening. Colm helped me with the last turn of the spanner, didn't ya?” 

That's when I noticed the one ugly mug who looked familiar was running his hands up and down Colm, slow and grabby. But me China stayed cold as ice and said, without hesitation, “It was bloody hard. Bloody thing won’t come off without major surgery, for certain.” 

“Hasn’t had a leak since,” I said, making myself smile. Christ, that bastard groping Colm looked more and more familiar.

Then I saw Danny was watching him, his eyes wide and wary, and I felt my heart drop.

Another soldier came up. “What 'bout a Volvo 122? Shifter comes out the gear box.” 

“That’s the bloody car’s design," I said, keeping my voice light. "Put it back in and screw it closed, is all you need do.” 

Danny was starting to shake. Oh...no...no...no... 

“Not what me mechanic said. Needs doin’ just right, fasten down just right. Glove repositioned.” 

I barely kept my voice normal as I said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and how much’d he hit you for?” 

“...Ten quid.” 

“Each time?” 

“I...I didn’t say it was more’n once.” 

I saw that same bastard was now shifting to Danny, and me China was starting to breathe heavy and I was growing wary. I had to make myself chuckle. “Next time it comes out, put it in yourself and see what happens.” 

“So you do know cars.” 

It was a Sergeant speaking, from behind me. I shrugged. "I fix things." 

The soldier began his mauling, up one of Danny's legs, grinning and growling like a hyena, then shoving his hand up around Danny's arse and...and then I caught it. He was the same bastard who'd fingered my arse. 

Danny was shaking, his fingers digging into the wall. Oh, shite, oh, shite, oh, shite, this could go so bad, so easy. Danny freaks out. The soldiers pile on and we're all snatched and...and... 

And then I noticed some older women in the queue, a couple of whom I knew, glaring at the fat bastard and without a though suddenly barked, "What the fuck is this? You stickin' your thumb up me arse ain't enough, you wanna do it to me mate, too? Lookin' for dreams to wank off to, when you're alone?" And I was loud with it. 

The bastard spun to me, snarling, "What the fook're you sayin'?" 

I noticed other ladies were casting glances our way so grew louder. "What the fuck, yourself, arsehole. It's not enough you grab my bollocks and stick your nose up me arse, you're gonna do it to all of us? Fuckin' poofter! Gettin' your jollies off goin' up boys' jacksies?!" 

The bastard howled and punched me in the kidney and fuck did it hurt. I cried out. He grabbed the collar of my coat suddenly I'm back in Strand Road and I just know I'm going into that fucking room, again, and that added to my gasps of pain and I'm about to spin into the very howling beast I was afraid Danny would've become... 

But that queue of women heard me. 

They heard me. 

Saw what the bastard was doing. Saw him hit me. And they began spitting furious curses on the man. Words I'd never heard come out of a woman before, not even Mrs. Keogh when she was in a lather. Spitting at all of them. Beginning to close in on them. "What're you doing to them boys, you cunts?" "You bastards gonna try anything with them?" "Big fucks with toy guns beating up on little lads?" "Motherfuckin' bastards!" "Keep your fookin' paws to yerselves, ya sick fucks." 

Colm burst out with, "That fookin' bastard groped me! An' he was grabbing me mate's arse. Me mate's an altar boy! Never a stitch of trouble to him and this ape's gonna drag him off for his sick fun!" 

Oh, did the ol' cows howl even more. Poofters and Homos and Nancy Boys, and I'd swear I heard a few cocksuckers in there. It was glorious. Others began to come over, from Waterloo, both men and women, to see what the noise was about. 

The paras started to get nervous and now held their weapons at the ready, in case this hoard of middle-aged ladies took it upon themselves to attack. If I hadn't been so winded by the bastard's punch, I'd have laughed at the cowardice in them, but then I looked at Danny...and he was still in position, staring at the wall as if frozen, his fingers still digging into the brick, shaking. Like I had been...for hours...and I started begging in my mind, Please, Danny, please don't let go, not yet, not now. Please. I held on. I held on. You can, too. 

That's when an officer of some kind quickly put himself between the howling women and his men and snapped at the bastard who'd been mauling Danny, "What the devil's going on, Collins?" 

"No idea, sor," he said, his voice suddenly weak and cowardly. "Just sorchin' the little fooks." 

I noticed that comment had jolted Danny, and he was now looking at me. And he seemed much calmer. Oh, thank the heavens. 

Colm was still against the wall, as well, but also watching him. 

Another soldier backed over, eyes on the snarling crowd, his fingers itching to pull the trigger of his rifle. "We sendin’ 'em off or snatchin’ ‘em?" 

The big bastard was fool enough to say, “Sir, I’d swear these little bas'ards was slingin’ stones at Magilligan.” 

That made the officer sigh and shake his head. "Collins, how the devil would you know that? You weren't even there. Christ." Then he turned and walked away. 

The soldier who'd asked me about the S4 said, “Off wit’ ye.” And he called, "Thanks." 

As if that made everything fine. 

Colm pulled me up by my collar and kicked Danny, jolting him back into this moment, and off we went. 

Fast. 

So fast, we were halfway down Fahan before I had to stop, I'd started coughing mad, and not from that punch. 

Colm pulled me around a corner, behind a tin wall, Danny right with us. I noticed them both looking at me, their eyes lost in confusion as Colm murmured, “You didn’t cough once in front of that fat bastard.” 

I couldn't speak. Just coughed.

The Good Earth

 I'm reading Pearl S Buck's story about a poor farmer in China, Wang Lung, who buys a wife/slave, O-Lan, and treats her like crap even as he slowly accumulates wealth and respect thanks in no small measure to her. He manages to keep his land despite famine and flood, she bears him three sons and two daughters and builds him a stable home, including taking care of his elderly father, and his repayment of her service is to buy a pretty girl named Lotus and install her in the same house so he can sleep with her. He's a real shit...and a typical man thinking only about himself.

I'd seen the 1937 movie version, where Paul Muni played Wang Lung and Luise Ranier played O-Lan, and it's interesting to find how massively they changed the story from the book. It's basically the same plotline, but the thrilling moments in the movie are all but tossed off in the book. Like the plague of locusts. Takes up 1 1/2 pages while in the movie it's a breathtaking scene. And in the book Wang Lung never loves O-Lan but is consistently wondering at her plain features and silence.

But what's most interesting about this is...I actually prefer the movie, because the book seems to have an...I don't know...a layer of reserve to it, even as it's talking about Wang Lung lusting after Lotus and O-Lan dying a slow and agonizing death.

I brought the book with me to read on the plane and in the evenings because packing jobs make me weary and I never like what I write if I make myself sit down at the laptop at the end of the day. And it is engrossing. Pearl S Buck has a disarming style that glides along and keeps its telling on the level of Wang Lung's ability to understand. He's illiterate but crafty and very much a man of his time caught in superstitions and awareness of social strata as well as how to handle selling his crops for a better price. It reminded me of Harper Lee's style, in many ways.

I'm almost done with it, and I'm finding that old adage is true -- in order to become a better writer, you need to read. It's given me hints on how to better tell Brendan's story, even if his is in first person instead of third.

I'd gotten away from that because several of the modern books I'd read just weren't up to speed, for me. The last time I truly enjoyed a contemporary writer was Jay McInerny's Story of my Life, and that was a few decades ago, when I still lived in Houston.

Damn...time is disappearing around me.

Off to NYC

Not going to get anything done till Wednesday, at the earliest, thanks to this quickie trip. I'm flying down, tomorrow and coming back Tuesday night, I hope. It's to pack about 350 books into 25-28 cartons, which should go fairly easily. Start at 9 on Monday...except packing materials aren't coming till 10 so that's irritating. But I can work till 6, and get it done the next day. Flight home isn't till almost 9pm.

Upper East side so God knows what I'll find to eat that isn't $50 to walk in the door. Old hotel with small rooms. Should prove interesting. Also going to be in the 40s.

Wednesday, I think I'll talk with the powers that be at Caladex and let them know they need to find someone for me to train to do this job. It's not really hard to plan out, but it is tiring when I'm doing it. Right now, we're giving a vague estimate for packing some mystery books for an exhibition, but not until this time next year. I'll be 71 then. I don't want to work till I'm dead.

Good thing is, Democrats may have beaten back the GOP in the House and Senate; won't know for a few more days. If so, no end to Social Security or Medicare, just yet, so that's good. I'm the sole support of my brother in San Antonio, but he'll be 62 soon and can get early Social Security...which will bring him more than I'm able to provide. If he'll actually set it up. He had mental and emotional issues that cause problems so I may have to go down and help him do it.

I can't say much about that; I have a couple of the same issues. Saying I'll do something then suddenly hours are gone by and I haven't even started trying. My excuse is I'm a writer and procrastination is one of our tools...but it is just that -- an excuse. With him? He was born with issues that limit his ability to cope. On top of it, his self-confidence was cut down so badly by his father, it amazes me he's still able to function at all.

I'm using a hint of that in APoS...but I'm not sure I'm doing that just right, yet. I may need to go through this thing line by line to make sure they do what is needed...after I figure out what the hell that is. I have a feeling I'm missing something in the setup of the story.

First agent contacted...

Aevitas Creative Management. Sent off a query by the form on their website. Filled it in with my info. Query letter. Short synopsis...which I did not have and for some stupid reason had not thought of. So worked one up right then. As follows --

Brendan Kinsella is a lad who just wants to live his life, but being born and raised in Derry, Northern Ireland, means history will interfere with his plans. Beginning in 1966 when he is but ten years of age, Brendan fights to maintain his own path through the turmoil of the time, from the vicious murder of his father to being caught in the middle of an IRA bombing to a growing relationship with a Protestant girl that must be kept secret for fear of reprisals...from both sides. But with chaos exploding around him, Brendan begins to wonder if his hopes and dreams and prayers and promises will ever find a place of safety.

Not great but workable. I also included the first chapter...which I edited a bit as I was going through it, again, and found a fucking typo! I'll be editing till the damn thing's published. They give no indication as to when they'll get back to me, but I figure 6-8 weeks is acceptable, especially during a holiday period.

Then I dug in and reworked chapter 2...and started thinking I'm letting Brendan chat around too much. He sort of scoots back and forth in time for events, though not massively so. He introduces his brothers and sisters and talks a bit about his mother's and father's history, showing he knows little about it. And he reveals it's suspected Kinsella is not his father's real last name. However, all the children are in the registry of birth as Kinsella so it definitely is his.

This is the kind of house they live in, albeit near collapse. These were built throughout the UK in the 18th and 19th centuries as quick, cheap easy dwellings for factory workers and their families. It's not like the terrace house we lived in when I was a child, in Ruislip Gardens west of London. (Next to the last stop on the Central Tube Line; my stepfather being stationed at Ruislip AFB, not far away.)

In ours, the stairs were against the wall directly in front of the door, with the parlor to the left, a dining area and a hall back to the kitchen. Upstairs were 2 bedrooms and the bath. It wasn't a big place, but mom didn't have my youngest brother until we were back in the States so only had to deal with two kids, at first; my sister was born, over there about a year before our return.

I packed up a library of books on humor in Reading a few years ago in a house similar to it, just everything on the opposite side. It was somewhat disconcerting...but I did the majority of my work in a shed in the back while my associate ferried books into me and boxes into the parlor, for staging, so it wasn't a big deal.

The house I lived in is still standing. If I do get back to London, I may stop by and ask if I can come inside, just to see it, again.

Hello to nothing changes...ever...

 Well, the election's over and it looks like 2 more years of the same shit. A senate that's 50/50 with two potential whores angling to shift from Democrat to Republican if offered the right price. A House that's still in play but looking more and more like it will be a GOP led one. Meaning the second they're in power they will impeach Biden for some bullshit. It's not a serious threat; just junior high school nonsense of, I'll show you! in response to 45 being impeached twice.

I spent all my time on Twitter and Tribel doing what I could to get the vote going blue, but it did no good. People went from it's a blue tidal wave to at least it's not a red wave in no time. And a huge swath of the electorate just plain did not bother to get counted. So far as I'm concerned, that means they voted Republican, by proxy. No excuses. But at least it wasn't, officially, a red wave.

So it is what it is...and I'm back on APoS. I meant to just go in and add a description of Derry to the first or second chapter, but it turned into another draft...so I'm numbering this one 5. It's just under 130,000 words and will expand.

I'm going to start sending out query letters, tomorrow. As follows:

----------

My three volume novel, A Place of Safety, is the story of Brendan Kinsella, a lad who just wants to live his life. But he was born and raised in Derry, Northern Ireland, and history interferes with his plans.

The first volume runs between 1966 and 1972, beginning with the murder of his father when Brendan is ten years of age. It sweeps through: 

• the 1968 Civil Rights demonstrations in Derry 

• the attack on peaceful marchers at Burntollet Bridge in early 1969 

• the lead-up to The Battle of Bogside in August of that year 

• the re-introduction of internment 

• Bloody Sunday 

• and witnessing a horrific bombing 

Woven through it is a relationship with a Protestant girl that is kept secret for fear of reprisals. From both sides. This section is in fifth draft and currently undergoing revisions to clarify characters, events and various details. 

Volume 2 is set between 1973 and 1981 in Houston, Texas. Brendan is sent there in a catatonic state, to live with his aunt and try to rebuild his life. Volume 3 calls him home during the hunger strikes of 1981 and ends with him accepting his destiny. Both are in second draft. As of now, all three volumes total more nearly 1500 pages and 330,000 words. 

 I should add, this is not based on my own life; it is completely fabricated. 

I have been working on this novel for several years, and have self-published 14 other books in both print and ebook. However, I would like to situate A Place of Safety with a mainstream publisher to avoid the many obstacles that are part of self-publishing. I am hoping your agency can assist me with this. 

I am open to sending you the first three chapters of volume one, or the first chapter of each volume. I could also send you a copy of The Alice '65, my romantic comedy, or The Vanishing of Owen Taylor, my gay murder mystery, to show my abilities in writing a complete novel. Just let me know.

Thank you for considering A Place of Safety. I believe it would be a great match with your agency's interests.

I look forward to hearing from you.

NaNo is a No-Go...

Another job got added onto the job in NY, so I didn't get home till today. This job was in Vermont and entailed bringing the shipment back with me to Caladex to pack. It wasn't exactly extensive, just delicate and requiring better care than usual. And it was way upstate in an area with no cell phonage or even GPS. But I did have a supervisor to make sure everything was well-organized.

I was smart enough to keep the trip up on my phone so could just reverse that to get back to a place that would work for me. If you want to see video of part of the drive, check it out on Facebook. But listen with low or no sound; that road is miles long and only packed gravel. It be loud.

So...it was 45 minutes to get to the second location's site, from my hotel. Then I still had to pack the books and daguerrotypes well-enough for transport, which took just over an hour, and hit the road. And it never ceases to amaze me how tired you can get from just driving. Sitting in a car and aiming it while it's on cruise-control.

Well, when I was able to use the cruise. Seems the back roads of Vermont are traveled by people in Subarus who go 5 mph UNDER the speed limit. Didn't have that issue on the back roads of NY. Quite the opposite; I wasn't speeding enough for many of them. It is pretty country, however, Montpelier is a truly ugly town.

So after unloading everything, turning in the car, and packing the shipment -- three double-walled boxes -- I didn't get home till 5pm. I was going to make a burger...only a wave of weariness swept over me so I nuked my dinner. Healthy Choice Steamer of Teriyaki Beef and veggies. And sat at my window and ate and vegged.

No writing done, nor much thinking for APoS. But I am definitely not doing NaNoWriMo. That's all I need is another book to finish, right now.