Still agent hunting...

I sent this off, today, using a form the agency has on its website. And found my first rejection in the Junk folder. Very nice and polite but no means no. Still, I keep pushing forward and adjusting the letter each time to make it better.

-----

I would like to submit my three volume novel, A Place of Safety, for possible representation by ________. It is the story of Brendan Kinsella, 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.

The first volume begins in 1966, with the brutal murder of Brendan's father when Brendan is but ten years of age. He then navigates a difficult relationship with his now-widowed mother and forges his own path through a society in thrall to history and the Catholic Church. 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 arrival of British troops to separate the two warring sides 

 • the re-introduction of internment in 1971 

 • Bloody Sunday in 1972 

 • and witnessing a horrific bombing in October, that year 

He also forms a relationship with Joanna, a Protestant girl...a relationship that must be kept secret for fear of reprisals. From both sides. This section is currently 132,586 words and 581 pages long (double-spaced, in Courier 12 point font). I also have a chapter by chapter synopsis. 

Volume 2 is set between 1973 and 1981 in Houston, Texas. It starts with Brendan in a catatonic state, situated with his aunt until he regains his senses and follows as he tries to rebuild his life. In volume 3, his mother is dying so he is called home during the hunger strikes of 1981, where he finally accepts his destiny. I am currently working on a third draft of Volume 2 while Volume 3 is in second draft. 

While I have self-published 14 books in both print and ebook, I would like to situate A Place of Safety with a mainstream publisher to avoid the issues that are part of self-publishing. I am hoping _________ can assist me with this. 

Thank you for considering A Place of Safety. I believe it would be a great match with your interests. I look forward to hearing from you.

------------

Oh, FWIW -- KDP backed down on Carli's Kills and it's now available through them in paperback. More on that later.

Waylaid...

Been a rough few days just trying to catch up with everything...and I'm still not. I did a fast trip to Brockport, yesterday, in the snow to pick up some archives. All were in bankers boxes but they weren't ship-able in that fashion, so I brought them back to the office and set them into slightly larger boxes then took them to Southwest Air Cargo to head out. By the time I was done, I was exhausted.

Part of the issue was the actual driving in poor weather. It makes me tense, to say the least, especially since I'm in a rental car with my own insurance covering it. It's less me I'm worried about than the other idiots on the road going 70-80 in sleeting conditions while rigs are going 55. It was a 50 mile drive but took me an hour and a half, each way.

It also took all my concentration, so I didn't really think about APoS as I'm toodling along. Not that I need to, much, right now. I'm in a section that I have a good idea is pretty much in order. I've got one chapter to add about the trip to Austin for the punk band, later on, but it's flowing that direction. Brendan's about to go through some brutal changes, again, and I want them to slip up on him.

Today was paperwork day, finalizing the costing for two jobs I have...one of which starts on Wednesday, in San Francisco. Meaning I'm flying there Tuesday. And in the office Monday to help with the book fairs happening over the next two weekends. So absolutely no writing getting done till I'm back in 10 days. And that's if the potential job in Houston comes through. Not guaranteed right now; the client is balking at the cost. A million dollars worth of books and they're whining because we want to crate them for protection.

What ya gonna do?

Rush and run

I now have six possible jobs lined up, of which only one is an absolute, at this time. Today was spent working out the logistics and travel arrangements and expense estimates and materials needed and on and on. Fortunately, we're not talking about my money being used in this, because if they take too much longer to decide, costs are gonna jump by a minimum of 50%.

I'm not crazy about some of these jobs because they won't be easy, but the money will be nice and I'll be able to see some people I know who are still in LA. I also may get to do a bit more research in Houston and complete my Vertigo tour in SFO. But we'll see how it goes.

I'm up to Chapter 17 in APoS - New World For Old. Brendan's en route to New Orleans for Mardi Gras thanks to his new job and his supervisor being a Cajun from there. The man's family is going in this monster Oldsmobile 88 Cruiser and all but drag Brendan along. Included is a young woman he finds attractive -- Evangeline, who's become friends Jeremy, thanks to Brendan, since both are focused in the languages department at UH. She's doing Russian; he's doing Chinese.

Brendan's begun to feel left behind. Cousin Scott's at UT in Austin. His younger brother, Rhuari, is learning Irish Gaelic, while Joanna was learning French. Brendan's only second language is the texts from repair manuals; those are a world unto themselves. Still, when I had an old Volvo the Chilton's repair manual helped me rebuild the fluid clutch, carburetors and brakes. But that car was so easy to work on, it shamed me into learning. It'd still be running if it hadn't been broadsided by a Ford Galaxy.

My Civic is a better car but I can't do any of the work on it. Even though it's from 1998, there are still electronic aspects that need specific adjustments. There was even one occasion where I had it serviced in LA, picked it up, drove it four blocks and it died because the mechanic forgot to reset some gadget or other. Like my taxes, I let those who know do this kind of work because then when something goes wrong I can make them feel bad.

I'm such a bastard, at times...

Easy Rider vibes...

Brendan got himself a real motorcycle. Initially, I had him buying a Motopic Seata, from Spain, but he didn't like that. Hid every reference I had made about it in my files. Even online. But then he latched onto a 1966 Montesa Impala Sport. Not Bugatti or Harley level, but right for him. Can run a hundred miles per hour and gives him the same feeling as when he's ice skating in the Galleria. I couldn't deny him.

Though I did make it in red.

I'm through chapter 14, now, and into changes he's making in his life. Attitudes shifting and less concern about his past. Hell, less connection, even. He wants it all gone. New life. New start. And this bike gives him mobility. Never mind that he doesn't have a license to drive...which almost causes an issue when a pickup truck pulls out in front of him and he smashes his front wheel.

Fortunately, he was wearing a light helmet because his aunt demanded it, but now he's willing to get a real one. They weren't required, back then, and photos on drivers licenses weren't happening for another couple years so using a copy of his cousin's kept the cops off his ass.

He's making friends, including with an illegal Mexican named Hugo, whose casual attitude serves him well. They do drugs and drink, and Hugo has a line of girls who like him so he gives Brendan access to some. It's casually misogynistic, but it's the 70s and the feminist revolution was still working its way through everyone's psyche.

Next chapter is Jeremy returning from Israel, completely changed, and finding that Brendan is the only person he can connect with. Because they've both seen death...Brendan on Bloody Sunday and the bombing; Jeremy during the Yom Kippur war...and it alters your view of the world.

Darkness is returning...

Brendan is a bad ass...

In the chapter I finished working on, today, Brendan uses a baseball bat to crack the knees of an abusive cop in order to protect a waitress at the bar where he works. Memories of his father's abuse of his mother clash through him so he almost clips the guy in the head, too. Todd, the bartender, has to stop him and kick him out, fast, before the police arrive.

It's not like Brendan's seeking trouble or out to prove himself to anyone. It was just instinct mixed with a memory of seeing the IRA kneecap someone he knew, over stealing. This on top of his reaction when he suspects a doctor's nurse abused him are bringing out a sharp, confrontational side to him that is possibly going to happen more and more.

I'm now through chapter 13 and the total wordage is over 115K. He's18 and feeling a need to gain control over more of his life. But when he tries to find out his real status in the country, he keeps getting half-answers from his aunt and uncle, making him suspect more is going on with him. He'll keep digging, and even send secret letters to Mairead.

This spurt of work came after a day of my usual self-flagellatory psychosis. I don't know what I'm doing. This is all shit. Why am I bothering? I should just give up writing, completely. And on and on. I'm feeling my age, in both body and spirit, so these moments come in like waves crashing against Hawai'i's North Shore. Then they ride back out. And I regain equilibrium. And keep moving forward, baby step by baby step.

Letting Brendan shift from scamp to scoundrel helped. So did finding that image of Robert Carlysle with his smoke and shank. 

"Don't make me an angel," Brendan keeps telling me. "Let me find my own way." Oh, will he ever...

Maybe I'm getting old...

I'm becoming agoraphobic. I was going to run out and grab some things I needed and instead I talked myself into waiting until tomorrow. When I'll have to get milk, at the very least. I'm also juggling pulling together estimates for 5 different jobs -- San Francisco, Los Angeles, Houston, Hudson Valley, and London -- and it's got my brain scattered. I barely got my expenses and invoice in to Caladex.

Which is a long way of saying I got no writing done, today. I got lazy and watched new episodes of Midsomer Murders. They came out last month, on Acorn, and I didn't know. There's also a new season of Vera coming up. So I went uncaring about money and set up Britbox and Acorn, again. 

I have to watch MM because it still has Nick Hendrix as DS Jamie Winter and he's who I based DS Finley Winterbourne on in The Beast in the Nothing Room. A book I am seriously proud of because of how well its mystery works and its tag line is -- How do you stop a serial killer who kills no one and doesn't even exist?

I only watch Vera because it started out with David Leon as her DS and he matched Brenda Blethyn in every way. To the extent that when he left he was replaced with a washed-out version of him who has zero charisma. But Brenda's cool and that's not out for another month, and their mysteries are a bit better situated than Midsomer Murders' ones; the latter are just cozy...like Agatha Christi stuff. And Finn...I mean, Nick is fun to watch (which makes absolutely no sense to me because he is not my type, but there it is).

So to finish up, I got distracted and I feel fine about it.

Back on track...

Okay...I reworked a section of the Celebration chapter to deal with Brendan beginning to see that a need for control is swirling around him in too many ways, and it may tie into the Dean Corll mass killing spree. The term serial killer wasn't coined until years later, depending on who you choose to believe.

The FBI called it serial homicide in the middle 70s, and apparently the LAPD changed that to serial killer in the middle 80s. But this section of New World For Old takes place in 1973, when Brendan is slowly regaining his footing in reality, so gotta go with the lingo. He still has flashbacks and even sudden sharp memories of what happened to him while he was catatonic, and they can be exacerbated by current events.

Something else he's becoming aware of is the uncertainty of his status in the US. He was brought over late in October 1972, and being a citizen of the UK he's given an automatic 3 month visa. If he was provided a medical visa, that can be extended for an additional 3 months, if I understand this right. But it's now August, more than ten months later. Which makes him totally illegal.

That means him going to a gay bar when he's just seventeen years old and drinking is really insane. If the place got raided and he was caught, it would cause huge issues for not only him but his Aunt and Uncle. What makes this even more fun is, if he is caught and gets deported back to Northern Ireland, it's possible he'll be either arrested by the British or killed by the IRA. Mairead and Aunt Mari have done too much to help him to let that happen.

Anyway, now I'm up to page 177 out of 510 and 114,300 words. This part's going to wind up bigger and more involved than Derry is, because I haven't even written the road trip to Austin to hear a punk band called The Next play at Raul's...and maybe a trip to San Antonio to visit the Alamo.

A truly brilliant man, I am...not...

I didn't take my laptop with me on this trip because it was just an overnight and I figured it was too much of a pain to ferry around. Well, the fates decided I needed a good kick in the ass to remind me that any time I think I know what I'm doing, I don't. Nor should I have the hubris to believe I do.

My plan was to work more on some thoughts I had about APoS, the night before, while waiting for my flight. It's all about emphasizing how the need for control plays a massive part in what everyone is doing in not only NI but also the serial killings in Houston and even Brendan's father and Aunt & Uncle. Of course, it's not something I want to explicitly state; I want it to grow from the story...but it's a solid start to understanding another aspect of what the story is about.

Brendan cannot be controlled. Not really. He does his own thing, no matter what, and others around him find that hard to deal with. I need to illustrate it better, but at the moment it's mainly shown through his relationship with his mother and the church. It will, however, become more and more evident throughout the Houston part of the story as his sense of independence gets him into some truly vicious situations...and he learns just how far people will go to control others and force them into their own view of how they should be.

So I was going to have 5 hours in the airport to work it through until this job popped up, and suddenly I needed to start working out the logistics of it because it's happening the second week of February, immediately after a packing job in San Francisco and immediately before the California Book Fair. What materials will be needed? What are the options for travel and where to stay? What's it going to cost? How long will it take to do? And all of it on my phone, only. Which does not have anywhere near the information I needed to prep this, in full, or any of the links I've set up in Chrome.

Still I got it worked out and sent off an estimate for my part of it, today...but it turns out we probably won't be able to present the estimate to the client till Friday because we need the final okay for the SF job and that's not coming till Thursday.

If I'd had my laptop with me, I could have had this done in an hour or two. Never again.

Road trip...

Actually, a flight to Providence, RI to collect an archive to ship to a university. Flying down, tomorrow, and back Monday night. I'm not taking my laptop; it's a quickie trip and I just won't have time to do anything so why ferry it with me? I'll have my phone and can handle Facebook and Twitter and Tribel and Instagram on that, as need be. Take photos of the archives once they're on pallets. And since I'm not taking a bag, the lighter I can make my backpack, the better. This will give my brain time to sort through the new idea Brendan set up connecting the violence of Derry, Houston and the Catholic Church.

It looks like I also have a job coming up in San Francisco the first three days of February, for another archive and collection of books. And then comes the California Book Fair. There's a possibility of a collection to pack and ship in the UK that might be especially delicate, so I might push really hard to be sent over for that since it's for a major client...but we'll see how that goes. First they have to decided what's in it.

I did go through Chapter 10 of APoS, again, to smooth things out and give a hint that Scott was trying to screw Brendan up. Of course, it backfires because Brendan is far more casual about things than Scott is, down deep. He's had to be. Then Scott's off to Austin, soon after, and Brendan's only issue is the B-Girls. But he just lets them do their thing and ignores their orders, knowing they'll change them the next time he sees them, anyway.

I think when I do the next full run through APoS, I'm doing it back to front. As I work on New World For Old, I'm finding references to aspects that really need to be in Derry. Nothing major but something to note.  Like the smell of beer on Da's breath and Scott being drunk reminding Brendan of it. That's one of the reasons Scott's plan to cause trouble doesn't work; Brendan dislikes American beer and cannot stand any of the hard stuff. He just does pot and pills and his blesséd Marlboros. So early 70s.

Moving along...

I think I'm into a smoother part of APoS Book Two, now. Scott takes Brendan to a gay bar where they're having a drag show, intending to get Brendan drunk and in trouble. He's upset he didn't get the pool house for himself. He'd already tried to do it once at his father's bar, but Brendan turned out not to like rum and coke so ignored the loaded drink.

So Brendan has a single Coors during the drag show, while Scott winds up being fed boilermakers by a man seated next to him and gets too loaded to drive. Meanwhile, Brendan, who was nervous and ready to run at the start, has calmed down and made the acquaintance of Everett, a gay man who's decent and kind, and sees a couple of kids in trouble.

He takes both boys back to his place, driving Scott's GTO, and fixes tea for Brendan, then he drives them home. He's a solid counterpoint to the Corll serial killings unfolding at the time, and will have a major impact on Brendan's life, in Houston.

Something that's begun to happen is Brendan beginning to see Corll's murders as connected to the mass murder of Bloody Sunday and the molestation of children by priests in the Catholic Church. Especially as regards his friend, Danny. I'm still thinking through how best to show this, but Brendan's sensing there's a streak of brutal selfishness in people, and while some can control it others either can't or won't. And though it rarely blossoms into murder, it does make some fight to take care of their wants and desires above everyone else's, even if they cause others trouble. Rather like what the GOP is doing, now.

I'm sure others have dug into this idea far more completely and properly than I ever could, but by keeping it at Brendan's level...as he's working through memories of seeing a good friend help men prepare to attack Eamonn on the PD march, and constables attacking peaceful demonstrators on October 5th, and the murderous expressions on the paratroopers shooting unarmed people on Bloody Sunday, he's also finding it happens in Houston, and the idea begins to explain things to him. He finally figures out something like...it's just part of man's nature, neither evil nor good. Those are labels used to condemn or praise, often without considering of the true meaning behind the actions being referred to.

But this is a new aspect of the story I'm still circling around. I may be laying too much onto it. However, it's better to have too much to put in than not enough.

Past the hump?

I got through Chapter 8, Celebration, and set up Chapter 9's structure. I took 7 pages from the first one and used them at the beginning of the second. Then I expanded a reference to Brendan having trouble with a drunk at one of his uncle's other bars that almost crashes into a fight because he won't sing Danny Boy.

That hints that Scott is a troublemaker, something I may bring out more. Scott's upset Brendan has the pool house to live in. It's only because Jeremy is there that the confrontation doesn't spiral out of control. First hint that Jere is a black belt in Aikido. Now Scott's going to drag Brendan to a drag show in Montrose, even though he's not yet 18. But again, it doesn't turn out like expected, and Scott is off to university so things stop, by default.

The B-Girls also ram their way back into Brenda's life by taking him on as their pet and showing him the best clothes to buy. Nothing high-end like Neiman's or Frost Brothers, but intense. He's finally seen the best way to deal with those two is jut let them do what they want and ignore them once he's out of their sight. So now I just need to go through them to make sure they're in proper order.

There's also reference to the Houston Serial Killers -- Dean Croll, Elmer Wayne Henley and David Brooks. They invite Brendan to come to one of Dean's parties but he says no. A couple weeks later, word breaks.

27 boys went missing from the Heights area of Houston, including brothers, and the cops didn't do anything about it. Even after Henley shot Corll and they learned of the horror, their attitude was, Cool. We've got a higher number of dead than Juan Corona.

Then a few years later, after John Wayne Gacy was credited with 33 murders, the cops tried to find more bodies in places they'd once been told to look, so they could maintain their record...but to their irritation could find nothing more.

If that doesn't tell you what cops are all about, nothing will.

Tired...

Lots of family drama, yesterday. Long distance. But things might be on the right track. We'll see what happens after MLK Day. But it exhausts me, because I'm not the smartest guy in the room and don't know how to get people to do what is necessary (even help themselves) except to keep asking. Almost begging. I'd use guilt but I've found far too often far too many are impervious to that. So I do what I can, damage myself to keep things from becoming too much worse, and keep moving on. Like the English.

I must've picked that attitude up when I lived in London, as a child. Ruislip Gardens, next to the last stop on the Central tube line. I did my first three years of school at Eastcote Primary School, which mingled British and American dependents of military personnel.

That was 1958-1961, and I remember seeing pockets of the center city that were still rebuilding after the end of WW2. The Scottish couple across the street from us had lived through the Blitz, moving out to Ruislip Gardens when their East End home was gutted during a raid. They may have wound up working at Bletchley Park; but that would have been before we were stationed in the area. I'm pretty sure the Mr. was retired by that point.

God, I can't remember their names, but the Mrs. served me tea with cucumber sandwiches, whenever I went over. Or chocolate caramels. She all but weaned me off the peppermint stick I liked. Now it's all been rebuilt into housing -- Pembrooke Park.

Anyway, this is informing the emotional content of APoS, now, and is rearranging a lot of what I'd written. The structure is still somewhat the same, with a little rearranging. It's just...finally layering in the deeper effect events had on Brendan. This has become so much more important. He's more fragile, mentally and emotionally, than I thought. And more adamant when he makes up his mind. The next section has him experiencing the Fourth of July for the first time and freaking out at the fireworks and gunshots, while working at The Colonel's...but things will get better. Becoming friends with Jeremy, Scott's Jewish buddy, will help.

But if I thought Book Two would be easier than Book One, I was dreaming.

About me...

I try to keep my life to myself, but today I just...I need to vent on a part of my life because that's tearing me up.

I am the main support of my half-brother, Kelly. He's just over 9 years younger than me, and he's always had emotional issues. Not mental, nor is he stupid. He may be undiagnosed ADHD or Autism or something; I honestly don't know. By the time these things started being looked for, he was well into adulthood and functioning. Hell, I honestly think, sometimes, that I'm dyslexic and just worked out a way to handle it on my own, because I keep getting things backwards or have to read a passage in a book over and over to get its meaning. I still will even glance at a headline and substitute a word I think is in there for the actual word and then have to stop and look very carefully to reset my brain. And I've always been prone to going left when told to go right.

But with Kelly...he's always been willing to work, but he's always had hygiene issues and a pathological fear of seeing a doctor or dentist. The latter cost him his teeth; he's now got dentures (which our sister paid for) and will need a new set, soon, because his gums are changing. But he still managed to hold down low-wage jobs and bring in enough to live one...until I moved up to Buffalo.

He was living with our mother and wound up having to take over as her caregiver, which was not good. It was way outside his capabilities. But our sister lived 50 miles away and our middle brother did not want to be bothered. When mom died, I started sending him money to live on, and at times he was able to get work...like with my brother-in-law and nephew, helping clean up homes they wanted to flip. But even that stopped, and he cannot find work anywhere, so I've been sending him enough to survive on for years.

I was able to maintain it through the Covid lockdown because I had some savings, unemployment, occasional packing jobs, and I cut down my expenses to the bone. But I had been paying down the debut I ran up during a long period of unemployment, years ago, and now it's ballooned, again. I'm at the point where I will be broke in a year and owe more than I can pay. Even with occasional jobs still coming in and the increase in my social security. But this time next year, Kelly will be old enough to apply for early social security, and he will be getting more than I can give him...so there's that.

I swore to my mother and myself I would not let him be homeless, and I've kept that promise. He lives in a small trailer my sister purchased for him, situated in a skanky lot on San Antonio's east side, but it's shelter. And between her and me, he's surviving. Now my nephew is working to get him help, which would mean him probably moving into an apartment that is rent subsidized. He'd also get SNAP and I could cut down what I'm sending him...but today I spoke with him, urging him to call a social worker my nephew had contacted...and he's resisting it. And I am having a shitload of trouble with that.

He has to call her in order to get the ball rolling on receiving assistance, and he says he will do so in the morning...but I don't believe he will. I've been pushing him on SNAP for years and gotten nowhere. I tried to get him on disability and he gave excuses and only did what I insisted on. And now? Now...now I'm close to losing it. When I was talking to my nephew about what could be done, it was like a window was opening up and I could breathe...and now it's shut in my face. And I don't know what to do. I feel like this slice of rock in the ocean, my years of life and layers slowly being worn away...and eventually I'll teeter over and collapse into the sea.

But if I stop supporting him, he'll be homeless in two months. On the street. My sister can't help him like I have. His only option will be to move to the Gulf Coast to live with her (which neither of them wants) or beg on the corner. I can't have that. I couldn't live with it. I don't have to worry about it, for myself. My apartment is subsidized senior living. I can close my credit cards and pay a minimal amount. Drive my 25 year-old car into the ground...then get a tricycle to go grocery shopping. Hope my health holds out. I have options. I don't like them, but I have them.

But FUCK. I'm so tired of this bullshit. So fucking tired.

Sundays are agent time..

I sent out a query to another agent. Seems Sundays will be my time for that, so they have my query sitting in their in-box Monday morning. This is what I write to them, each one a bit different and the name of the agency filled in:

-----------------

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 begins in 1966, when Brendan's father is murdered. He is but 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 arrival of British troops to separate the two warring sides

• the re-introduction of internment in 1971

• Bloody Sunday in 1972

• and witnessing a horrific bombing in October, that year 

Brendan navigates his way through a society in thrall to history and the Catholic church as he tires to forge his own path. He also forms a relationship with a Protestant girl...a relationship that must be kept secret for fear of reprisals...from both sides. 

This section is currently undergoing revisions to clarify characters, events and various details. As of now, it is 132,845 words and 583 pages long, double-spaced and in Courier 12 point font. 

Volume 2 is set between 1973 and 1981 in Houston, Texas. Brendan is in a catatonic state so is situated with his aunt until he regains his sense and tries to rebuild his life. In volume 3, he is called home during the hunger strikes, where he accepts his destiny. Both are in second draft, but with need of revision for depth and consistency. 

This story is historical fiction. I have been working on it off and on for several years. And while I have self-published 14 books in both print and ebook, I would like to situate A Place of Safety with a mainstream publisher to avoid the issues that are part of self-publishing. I believe ___________________ can assist me with this. 

Below is the first chapter of the story, which is not quite ten pages. I would be happy to also send you a copy of The Alice '65, my romantic comedy, or The Vanishing of Owen Taylor, my gay murder mystery, to verify my abilities in writing a complete novel. 

Thank you for considering A Place of Safety. I believe it would be a great match with ___________________ interests. I look forward to hearing from you. 

Synopsis: 

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.

----------------

Then I paste in the first chapter. Here's hoping.

Sometimes Brendan really tries me...

So I'm going through Chapter 7 of APoS, called Adjustments. And BAM, half of it's gone. Dropped over 1500 words because Brendan wants more drama. More problems. More issues. Houston was already starting to seem too comfortable.

I guess I can't put all the blame on him. A lot of this chapter was repeating aspect that happened earlier, and Aunt Mari's two daughters -- Brandi and Bernadette -- have been far too quiet. So now it pretty much starts with Brendan coming out of the bathroom, naked, having just taken a shower, to find them casually seated on his bed.

He is still drying off so the towel does cover just enough of him to keep this from being kiddie porn. They start pestering him with questions about the name tattooed on his arm. Joanna. Causing memories to crash in on him. He freaks out and slams back into the bathroom then crouches down against the door to keep them from getting in. He tells them to leave but they reply it's their house, not his. It takes Aunt Mari coming upstairs to investigate the commotion to get the girls back downstairs.

Brendan stays in the bathroom, shaken, for hours. Grows cold despite it being June in Houston. Might be having a slight heart issue without knowing it. But finally he dresses, goes down to the family room, and tells everyone he can't live there. He doesn't feel safe. And the girls inadvertently admit they've snuck into his room before, while he was sleeping. This leads up to letting him move into the pool house. He'll have locking doors, his own gate in the fence, and can set up a workspace for his repair projects.

Which will also cut out half the next chapter, where I had him do the move in a much more casual, everybody's friendly fashion. Now his cousin Scott is pissed because the family wouldn't let him live there, and it also shows there will be fewer visits from people his uncle's involved with. Visits that are being redirected because Brendan is staying with them, which irritates Uncle Sean.

This was a hard one to write, for some reason. Mainly because it's opening a whole new can of worms that have to be dealt with, so it's almost like I'm starting from scratch. It's also jammed a new chapter in. But...it works better. Dammit. More dynamic and still believable. I love/hate it when that happens.

[NOTE: The photo is of Sufjan Stevens, who so looks like Brendan should, it's spooky]

A bit more of the outline...

Continues from what I posted, yesterday.

------

Awareness 

Brendan tears his jeans climbing the gate and the gravel drive sets rocks in his sandals, still he is overwhelmed by the wide residential street and sizes of the homes and cars. It's so peaceful and calm, it's like he's in a whole different universe. Aunt Mari returns and has to honk at him to make him move out of the driveway. 

She has a massive Chevy station wagon packed with groceries. He helps her take them inside and as she puts them away, she reminds Brendan he has a doctor's appointment. He had forgotten but then has a flash of a memory of a woman toying with him, at the office. He shakes it off and works on the iron to keep his mind busy.

Aunt Mari points out that he hasn't been listening to her as she talked to him, and he's apologetic. Then she reveals Eamonn was one of three men arrested for the bombing and others are unhappy with him, so he is not returning home anytime soon. If ever. Shaken, he passes out, hitting his head. Aunt Mari tends to him, then he goes up to change. He goes over what probably happened and comes to believe he's been set free from Derry and her past...and is ecstatic. He asks Aunt Mari to explain how she got him into the US, but she's reticent, making him wary. 

Houston

Brendan is taken to the doctor's appointment and is amazed at the size of Houston, the building going on, and how flat the land is. He is told, en route, his uncle contacted people in NORAID and Aunt Mari flew to Northern Ireland to bring him back to the States. He was hidden outside Strabane to give him time to heal before travel. His rucksack having clothes in it cushioned his fall enough so he was only injured -- broken arm and ribs, but also the beginning of a heart attack due to a congenital heart defect. The doctor he's going to see is a heart specialist. Father Jack drove them to the airport in Manchester, and he was brought into the US under his own passport. Ma was shocked he had it. He was under sedation when passing through Customs, and they were told he was simple. 

At the doctor's office, Brendan has flashes of an uncomfortable memory about the doctor's assistant, Carla. But she tends to his injury, gives him a tetanus shot in his butt. Then she points out he's torn his jeans, almost suggestively just before Dr. Gilbert comes in. The elderly man is so kindly Brendan tells him of his confusion over the memories and reveals more than he intended to about himself, including who Joanna was thanks to her name tattooed on his shoulder. Dr. Gilbert offers him a referral to a therapist, then says he is healing well and everything will get better. 

Dr. Gilbert leaves and Carla comes in to tell Brendan he can go, and to watch him pull on his shirt. She touches him, suggestively, and he grabs her hand, angry at how she could mess with him knowing his condition. She claims she meant nothing by it, but he wipes his fingers over her lipstick, then smears it on his face and gives Aunt Mari the hint something happened. She reveals Carla got him to answer question so she was the one who always handled him. Alone. He knows she did something to him and hates the woman...but wonders if he wants to see her, again. 

Catch Up 

Brendan reads letters from Mairead about how rough things are in Derry. Ma and Rhuari were arrested for a short while. Eamonn was tried under the Special Powers Act and sent to prison for 20 years. But Colm and Danny have not been touched. Ma is getting a phone, thanks to Mairead, and Mai is happy her family lives in a forward-thinking town like Toronto...and is about to have child #4. 

Brendan starts doing repairs around the house...and then for the neighbor's housekeepers and gardeners. He learns Uncle Sean has had visitors from Ireland, once of whom was Da's brother. He can find out nothing more and Aunt Mari is tight with information now. But Brendan overhears them discussing a position at a bar Uncle Sean just bought, called The Colonel's, and asks if he can take it. He's paid under the table to restock, keep the place clean and, since he cleans up the kitchen in the back, cook as need be. Three nights a week for $20 a night. 

He gets along with Todd, the bartender, who gives him a ride home, buys him a beer and lets him smoke some of his pot. The main waitress is Raquel (Rocky), who is all business and whom he has trouble understanding thanks to her twang; a second waitress is three nights a week, Lorraine, but her drawl is easier . Then Brendan finds out Uncle Sean has plans for a row of shops next to the bar, and he feels settled enough to wonder if he might be able to take one over as his own repair shop...even though he's still just 17.

Up to date...

Some of the outline for APoS - New World For Old --

-----

Rebirth

Brendan slowly emerges from a stupor. He is at an upstairs window and a half-eaten sandwich is on the sill. He does not recognize where he is or understand why everything is so different from Derry. Memories crash in on him and send him into a painful panic mode. He has a mantra to calm himself and has to use it, over and over, then his mood grows angry and he destroys a line of ants that were taking away the remains of his sandwich. 

He realizes he is in the attic of a house. Below are the back yard, pool, pool house, and a separate garage. He focuses enough to go into the bathroom and recalls being tended to by a couple of men. Looks in a mirror to find his hair cropped close, his beard patchy and himself haggard. Overwhelmed, he collapses. 

Aunt Mari finds him, takes him back to his bed and lets him know he was brought to her house in Houston. He has been in an akinetic catatonic state. Hit with memories, he realizes Joanna is dead and now food for ants...and passes out. 

Rejoining 

Brendan wakes late in the day. Lying in the bed, he forgets where he is, for a moment, then hears voices and smells food and is very hungry. He makes himself get up and go to the bathroom to brush his teeth. It exhausts him, and the taste reminds him of Joanna kissing him at the circle fort. 

Wary, he quietly winds his way downstairs but is met near the bottom by his uncle Sean and the family dog, Angus. Brendan has a memory of Uncle Sean bathing and dressing him, and finds the man has a slow Texas way of speaking. He's taken to the family room to meet his cousins, Brandi and Bernadette, both around ten years of age and always arguing. He remembers them complaining about his crying, and recalls a son named Scott, who helped Uncle Sean.

Brendan learns he was brought to Houston in late October, and it is now April, 1973. More memories jolt him until Scott returns with a friend, Jeremy, both with a hint of pot's aroma on them. Jeremy leaves and dinner is served. The girls mess with Brendan by claiming to be each other. Irritated, he snaps at them that he's mad as a march hare so be careful. They grow quiet. He's given a small amount of food on his plate due to not having been eating much, told he has a doctor's appointment in 10 days, accepts what has happened and says a prayer for those long dead.

Moving On

Brendan stays in his new room, clinging to memories while assimilating into the family and their relative wealth. Scott is off to University in Austin, soon. Brandi and Bernadette are 10 months apart, in age, and agree on nothing except that Brendan is now a carnival attraction, for their friends. Brendan calls them the B-girls and is wary of them. Aunt Mari runs the house and refuses a maid. Uncle Sean owns three Irish bars in town that are very successful and is considering buying a fourth. Jeremy is like a second son and is headed for a kibbutz in Israel, for a year. The B-Girls think he and Brendan look like brothers.

Brendan reads, which helps make the slashes of memory fewer and farther between. He is always in pajama bottoms, but one day he is drawn outside to help Uncle Sean work on his old Volvo. It won't start, until Brendan sees the issue and gets it going, surprising the man. Ma had never told them he could fix things. Brendan tells him, "She thinks me simple." Then he heads back into the house.

He fixes a sandwich, amazed at the wealth of food in the fridge, then naps. Finally he showers and dresses in some of Scott's old clothes. He explores the house and then the back yard, where he finds an iron Aunt Mari was throwing out. He plans to fix it then hears a voice comment on old habits but no one is around and realizes he was talking to himself. He wants to look around the front of the house but the driveway gate is closed and the walkway gate has a lock. Nervous, he wants to back away but tells himself Joanna would not hesitate to climb it...so he does, still holding the iron.

Cut and destroy...

I dumped 4 pages of chapter six. There are questions that need answering, but Brendan doesn't want them answered yet, so I ain't gonna. His one real concern -- that he might have been responsible for Eamonn being jailed, along with two of his Chinas -- got tossed out while reading his sister's letters, so he just accepted the rest. 

His goal becomes reclaiming his life...starting over...and the best way to do that is by doing what he did in Derry -- fix things. Save money. Make plans later.

He's also found his best source of information about what Aunt Mari's family is up to is his young cousins, Brandi and Bernadette. They argue about the facts and exaggerate things...maybe. But thanks to them, he gets clues that his uncle is involved with NORAID in more ways than just sending them money, and also finds out Da might not have been an orphan but got cut off from his family for getting Brendan's mother pregnant before they were married. It being Ireland in 1950, that would be a big deal.

He finagles a part time job at a bar his uncle bought. Three nights a week, $15 a night, which is a bit over minimum wage, at the time, and he's paid under the table. It has a kitchen that isn't used, so he cleans it to where it's viable, his subconscious thought being as a place to hide if he ever needs to. He's making decisions half on instinct, now, with a lot of wariness thrown in.

Brendan keeps telling me, Let this part be messy. It works better for me, because my mind is in chaos. Gotta grant him that. I was being too neat and precise in how it was unfolding. Too explanatory. With a dollop of Hollywood still getting worked in.

Eventually, Brendan will realize Uncle Sean would never jeopardize his family or business by getting too involved in anything shady, but the man is capable of playing hardball and skirting the law. He has a good lawyer with contacts in both Austin and Washington DC, so it's best not to mess with him.

Meaning, of course, that Brendan does. Eventually. The little scamp.

Don't fuck with me, Brendan...

I spent the day working up a section of chapter 6 where Brendan reads letters his sister, Mairead, sent from Toronto, trying to catch up on what's been happening at home. He learns Eamon's been arrested and jailed under the Special Powers Act. He learns his youngest brother, Kieran who's six, is already chucking stones at British patrols. And he notices she never refers to him by name in any of the letters and it confuses him and it has confused me, as well.

If Brendan came into the country legally, there's no need to be cute about keeping him quiet. So did he or didn't he? I finally reached the point where I had no idea. I broke away and followed some of the GOP meltdown over electing a Speaker of the House, which is a real fiasco, and checked up on how Ukraine is doing against Russia's terrorism...and they are kicking Russia's ass. Then I came back to what I'd written and read some of it and it's nonsense.

And that little fuck is laughing at me. He led me into this ridiculous area that will now be cut and pasted out of the story and I'll go back to square one. A complete waste of time. Granted, this was going to be a big re-write on this chapter. It originally was where Brendan found out he was snuck into the country under a false name and no one knows where he is even as the British are looking for him and it's all gone by the wayside. Hell, it might be best if I just cut the full chapter.

But I liked some of it and wanted to work it in, which that bad boy don't give a shit about. My story; my telling. So listen, peasant. I guess this was his way of kicking me in the...pants. I'd had a glimmer of a thought of an idea that I should just dump the letter-reading but tossed it aside, thinking I could work it out. Apparently, that was unacceptable and lessons will be taught.

So I'm taking the rest of the evening off and getting back onto it, tomorrow. And away it goes.

Look who's not in control of what he's doing.

Cruelty bred not born...

Something Brendan has said to me -- something I will need to work into the story in some way, be it Book Two or, probably, Book Three -- is that evil is not banal, like Hannah Arendt famously claimed: 

“Evil comes from a failure to think. It defies thought for as soon as thought tries to engage itself with evil and examine the premises and principles from which it originates, it is frustrated because it finds nothing there. That is the banality of evil.”

It may be Everett who mentions that to him, and he dismisses it. He comes to see evil as common and childish and lazy, not tedious or trite, because he was living through it. He sees it not as a failure to think or engage in consideration of what evil is; it's just easier to be evil than good. Especially because far too often a society will define that which is evil for others as good for itself...and in truth we are all basically products of our society.

For example, what Russia is doing in Ukraine is, to most of us on the West, quite evil. Bombing homes and hospitals and schools to kill as many men, women and children as they can in their war. Not soldiers; civilians. But in Russia, it's considered great and good and they laugh about it. They do not believe the people of Ukraine are worthy of human consideration, which would make it hard as hell for anyone in Russia to say, "No this isn't right." The few who have got carried off to jail, straightaway. How do you fight that when even your church overtly supports the slaughter?

This is also what happened in Northern Ireland. Ian Paisley, a Presbyterian ministers, a man of God, howled for the death and destruction of Catholics, and even threatened any politician who disagreed with his radical attitude. He whipped up riots and attacks and was a large part of the reason thousands died during the troubles. There was no one similar on the Catholic side, but the Protestant majority felt it was right and good to bomb Catholic pubs and kill Catholic women and children. And then they were infuriated and horrified when the same was done to Protestants by one of the IRA's branches.

As Jean Renoir once said, Everybody has their good reasons. And that is truer today than it was in 1939 on the cusp of WW2, at the beginning of Germany's happy establishment of the Holocaust. It's like it's man's true nature...and Brendan senses it and slowly sees himself joining in with it.

That is what he did not want when he was in Derry, and he thinks being in Houston will let him just be who he wants to be...and slowly learns it will not.

Something's different...

...And I mean about me. Not sure why it's happened, just yet, but my attitude has shifted about APoS and I'm just letting it go as it goes. I'm not pushing or as worrying about getting it done as I was. I know there will be some intense changes through Books Two and Three, but what matters is Brendan seems to be letting me in more...seems almost to trust me not to fuck him over. Or let him fuck himself over. So it's working in a bit easier.

He's going to make mistakes and be a an asshole, sometimes; that's already established. He's both lost and focused as he rebuilds his life, if that makes any sense, but he can lean on me because I'm no longer freaked out about being exactly right in every detail.

I'd grown too focused on making sure everything was so correct, the people who'd lived through those times would think it was written by someone from the area...and that twisted me in knots. But suddenly that's gone and it's nice to know I can also trust myself, again.

Something I've finally noticed I did was tell Book One as if it's all coming from Brendan's head, so all that matters, really, is attitudes and phrases. He's not precise about anything in Derry because he's lived it his whole life. When he gets to Houston, it's all completely different and a bit scary, so he slips into more detail...but he's also fighting his way back to sanity and knowing his surroundings helps anchor him. And when he returns, the town is completely different even as enough of it is still the same, so it's disturbing to him.

But the change is not just with my writing. It's something more within me...and that's where I'm a bit unsure as to what's going on. The last few weeks have been a rollercoaster of emotion, for me, but it seems I've entered a long flat space of a breather and find I'm just not worried about people seeing things as I see them, or justifying myself to them.

I don't know if I'm putting this right. I was already at the point of blocking idiots on Twitter and Instagram and Tribel when they came at me with their bullshit. But that was only one of the stepping stones to this feeling I've got that my deepest wants and needs have changed.

I've enjoyed writing my gay erotica (which everyone but me calls porn) but now it's part of what I used to do. At the moment, I don't know that I will ever complete Blood Angel because it's locked into my wants, needs and desires of that past...and I'm headed down a different path.

When I'm done with APoS I'm returning to Dair's Window and writing about two men who find each other, lose each other through death, and work out a way to continue on despite that loss. In order to do that, I want to finish APoS this year. All three books. And get them set with a publisher. That is my only goal for 2023.

I know this post is a mess of thoughts and considerations, but I now know that it will all come together as it should, in the end. I know it will.