Cover work started...

I've begun prepping the dust jacket for A Place of Safety-Home Not Home and it's coming together nicely except for one thing -- I need to expand my synopsis for the flaps. What I have now is short, tense and to the point...maybe too much so.

April 1981

Hunger strikes are underway and Northern Ireland is in turmoil. That’s when Brendan is called home, thinking his terminally ill mother wants to see him. He travels there under a different name, trying to keep a low profile because the British still want to question him about the bombing that injured him. What he finds is, despite being in the final stages of cancer she is still very antagonistic towards him.

But he also sees his sister, Maeve, is worn out both caring for their mother while also working for peace. His younger brother, Rhuari, helps some but tries to keep himself out of the back-and-forth with the Army. then there's his youngest brother, Kieran, who treats full confrontation with the authorities as a game. What is worse, his older brother, Eamonn, is locked up in Maze prison, is considering adding his name to the list of hunger strikers.

Then under the influence of her medication, his mother inadvertently reveals secrets about his father that make him wonder if the man’s murder was really sectarian violence or merely petty revenge. But as he looks into it, Father Jack inadvertently reveals to him that Joanna might still be alive, which knocks Brendan off-center. He tries to find a way to verify it without revealing himself yet is blocked at everyu turn.

Then Bobby Sands dies and Derry explodes into rioting and death, trapping Brendan in the chaos as the British Army’s search for him begins to close in.

It barely covers the front flap so I've removed it.. Much more is needed...maybe. I'm still thinking on that.

Home, and happier...

Drove back to Buffalo along the 90 Thruway with it raining nonstop. Even a dash of snow.  The big, black Jeep Grand Cherokee Hybrid I was given is very comfortable and the heated seats were all I really needed to keep warm enough. If I get too cozy, I get sleepy, so I let myself stay a bit on the chilled side.

Tomorrow is laundry, a few groceries, gas, and sorting out the paperwork. I'm not turning the car in till Sunday, when I fly out for Chicago. It was a week charge for the vehicle, anyway. I still prefer my Civic's size to this SUV, but I can adjust.

My constant, right now, is being in a sort of limbo when it comes to the writing projects. I cannot seem to focus on anything except finalizing HNH. I did add in a bit where Brendan gives a deposition about being waterboarded while at Castlereagh. But he knows nothing will come of it. The European Court on Human Rights is too weak to go up against England's self-righteousness, as was proven in 1978 when Ireland asked them to designate the Army's treatment of certain prisoners as torture instead of, effectively, just saying it wasn't nice to do.

It added a paragraph into the next to the last chapter, but didn't affect the Table of Contents numbering.

I also decided I didn't like the final sentence of the chapter preceding it. Brendan saying his new role in life was that of Brendan Kinsella. It's silly. I have to think of a better one.

As I've often noted, the book is not done being written until it's in print.

Milk is the magic elixir...

Got the books on their way, despite a steady downpour of rain. There were two people with the van for pickup, so I let them bring the boxes out and I wiped off the water, once they were in the van, so everything would stay dry. I now know that 34 cartons at 18x14x12" will cover the floorboard of a transit van, wall to wall to the back of the seats.

Dropped by the Norman Rockwell Museum afterwards and got an actual poster of Murder in Mississippi. They didn't have it available the last time I went, a few years back. I have a smaller printout of it framed and on my wall to remind me that racist murder and hate have long been a part of this country's heritage.

Then I had a decent pizza and took a nap...and woke up feeling cranky. Till I had a glass of milk. That seemed to even me out. I like milk...not just in my tea but to cook with and...well, to be honest...it's almost like a comfort food. I practically lived on it when I was growing up. Would drink it instead of water. Same for cheese. Must be the Norwegian in me.

I worked up costing for a couple possible jobs in February and March/April...and found out there will be a shadow fair in San Francisco the weekend before the California Book Fair in Pasadena. Seems the organizers finally managed to drive out the previous people arranging the fair, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. But it's not something I need to deal with.

My next project is getting the book cover done for HNH. I have the template and will do the same as with Derry and NWFO...leave a blank space on the back for any reviews that come in. I'm not asking Kirkus because the last one was a bit off-putting. Didn't seem connected to the first book, at all. BookLife paid more attention to it.

So tomorrow is heading home. Then it's a quick job in Chicago-not-Chicago. Fun.

Displace energies...

I blasted through and got the job done, today. Moved pickup to tomorrow morning, from Friday. I'm still not returning home till then. I need some space to relax and recharge...if I can. I beginning to wonder if my batteries are spent, completely, beyond redemption.

I am so fucking tired. Feet hurt. This new SUV I've got has heated seats and using that on my back as I drove home helped that part of my anatomy. Now I'm going to soak in a tub and try not to fall asleep.

I don't want to do this, anymore, but I am so fucked up, financially, I have to just to keep up with my bills. Even going to a credit consolidator is only leaving me with $400 a month to live on. I can't do that in today's world., not even on beans and rice.

I am proud of finally finishing APoS's last volume, and I'll be able to put it into circulation around Christmas, but damn I've spent so much money trying to get Derry and NWFO noticed, I can't do any of it for HNH. I look back at how much I've spent on just that book for listings and postings and publicity and book fairs and copies and...and it's close to a third of my debt. And next to nothing is happening, with it, in sales.

I'm not lowering the price. $32.50 seems high for each hardcover, but any lower and I'm not making any money on it. Actually paying to have it printed. So I'm stuck.

I dunno...maybe volume 3 is better off not being noticed...

I do not want a new car...

Lovely morning, this morning, when the new Jeep Grand Cherokee I'd driven from Buffalo to Great Barrington, MA refused to start. Refused to unlock. Refused to do anything. Even when Avis sent someone out to jump start it...nothing. Completely, totally and absolutely dead.

With all of my packing materials in the back.

I remembered new cars' beeper fobs usually have an emergency key in them, so was able to open the driver's door...but couldn't even get the other doors to unlock. So everything came out the hard way.

I wound up being driven to the Avis counter at Bradley Airport near Hartford, where they were as unaccommodating as possible. Everything is set up, according to roadside assistance. Except they should have informed that Avis office. That took forever, so I go to the packing site 4.5 hours late.

I'm already leery of modern cars with their heavy reliance on electronics, and this has only confirmed my insistence on keeping my little Civic. I'm spending thousands to get the brakes overhauled, but it's an amazing car, considering it's 27 years old. And being without it has shown me how much I need it.

I did have a thought hit me about HNH...that Brendan needs to either testify about being waterboarded...and not being believed...or refusing to talk about. It's too big a deal to ignore.

So I'll add that when I do my corrections.

Strange...

Drove to Great Barrington, MA from Buffalo. An easy drive straight down the 90 going east...well, after I got past Rochester. Supposedly, there was a major wreck on the 90 between Rochester and Buffalo so I took the 33 to the 490 then on to connect, and it was nice. Slower but also more soothing.

Maybe too soothing. Normally when I'm driving I can think about some project I'm working on or want to work on, but not this time. My brain refused to engage. Nothing on DW or BA or even continuing with The Beast as horror erotica. I'd try to start something and it would just drift away.

I'd look at the passing scenery and buildings in the countryside. Decide I prefer the spicy Cheez-its to the bacon and cheese ones. Chew some peppermint gum. Stop for a pee break and to stretch my legs. All without a thought in my head.

One thought that came to me is I've decided no matter what happens next, me having written all three volumes of A Place of Safety is what I'm most proud of. No matter what people say about it, I did right by Brendan and his story. Some details may be wrong, here and there, but the truth of the story stands. 

That is what it boils down to. I wasn't writing a novel about Northern Ireland during the Troubles. I was relating the story of Brendan and his world. How he navigated it. How he almost did not survive it. That's why my initial big-bang ending, where he joins the IRA and kills Father Jack as a tout, was all wrong. It wasn't Brendan's way. Never could be.

So a quiet ending was necessary. Cutting all ties. Heading off into his own existence. I don't know if anyone will understand that...if I related it well-enough...but to me, that is what it means.

The only way to survive in this world is to not let yourself get caught up in its chaos.

Pause

Off to another packing job, tomorrow. And that quickie one almost immediately following. So I'm not back to myself until Wednesday, the 27th. At which time I will need to start considering whether I want to stay with my current health insurance and lose my doctor, or stay with my doctor and change insurance. On top of a number of other situations.

Then there's my car, in for repairs that will be fucking expensive, and I can't charge it. My one workable credit card will be full with the cost of these trips till I get my expenses reimbursed. So there goes most of my savings.

I'm gonna have to work till I'm dead, looks like. That or try this new fad diet called starvation. Can you do a GoFundMe to pay off credit card debt?

I gotta stop my worrying. No matter how freaked out I get over the future, it never turns out like I expect. And reality is, I will have A Place of Safety done and out and available...after decades of working on it. No matter what happens, I have that...and I am fucking proud of myself for completing it...

If I get my editor's feedback in time. I haven't heard a thing from them, yet.

It's funny, but now that I have Queer Manifesto/Porno Manifesto in screenplay format, it's not as pressing a project. I may work on it in the evenings...but I have a lot of books, in my ebook queue. I'd like to get some of those read.

At least I'm not all that depressed, anymore. Seems the MAGAt winners are already beginning to snap and snarl at each other. Maybe chaos in that party will be our friend and protector. Who'd have thunk it?

Major change

I finished a reformatting of Porno Manifesto...now called Queer Manifesto. But to be honest, I'm still not sure about the title. It's kind of meh, to me. I mean, it works into the story and sort of fits with the ending, which is blunt and brutal, because the ending took off in a different direction. Which makes sense...I just don't know if the script leads up to it. 

Freddy, the one who initiates the action against Alec, tries to kill himself because he's been revealed as a self-loathing closet case. Alec sees it happen, albeit months after the fact. He'd put cameras in Freddy's room to record what was going on...and catches it just before the server goes blank.

So...overall, Alec's plan to prove any male is capable of gay sex in the right place at the right time works. But it destroys a couple of lives in doing so.

I have to go through to make certain the dialogue aligns correctly from page to page, so I'll see what happens. The structure of this script is in 5 acts, not three. Which I don't have a problem with so long as one leads correctly to the next.

That's what I'm not sure about. I think they build to the moment when Alec is nearly beaten to death, at the end of act 4, while the last act is his recovery and return to being human, again, and not a vicious beast. It's Freddy's suicide attempt that jolted me, along with the hint that one of his buddies may have suggested it and left him the method he uses.

It's 122 pages, currently, but I have a feeling it will wind up more like 124-125. There are long moments of action in this, without dialogue, so if made it could easily fit over 2 hours. Which I don't worry about. I doubt it will ever even be considered for production.

I still want feedback on this. I may post it on a couple of gay sites to get comments, once I have it in as good a form as I can. Post each act...get an idea of how it's going...

Yesterday was a shit day making me feel even older than I am. And poorer. I slept a lot, once I got home from the errands I had to run. I'm slipping into poverty, not that I was ever rich. Barely middle class. And now it's crashing down around me. So...it will be what it will be.

Down...

 I follow this guy on Xitter...which is becoming a cesspool of filth and degradation.

It speaks volumes that white working class men would rather have a back-stabbing criminal in office than an accomplished black woman. And don't get me started on the supporters of Palestinians in Gaza who said not to vote for Harris, especially in Michigan, and now have their worst nightmares about to come true, there.

The world is so fucking stupid, and completely out of control. I'm almost rooting for Mother Nature to just wipe us out.

WTF???

Jesus Christ, the world is out to prove to me it's completely fucked up. Everything, everywhere around me.

To start...that job in Chicago isn't actually in Chicago. It's 90 miles west of the city. When I asked the client  if this was correct, just got an, Oops, sorry for the confusion. I can still do it, but had to make some changes.

Then it turns out my car isn't even getting worked on till Monday, next week, when I'm out of town. I got the Had to find a part and it won't be in, till then excuse. So I am car-less till I get back from Chicago, 10 days from now.

I thought I could handle it, okay. I had a couple prescriptions to pick up and the Walgreens I use is only half a mile away, so I can walk that. Get some milk and a few other things, too. Only I can't find my sunglasses and it's a cloudless day. I think I left them in the car.

On top of it, this Walgreens doesn't have any milk. At all. Hasn't for weeks. And a couple of other things I wanted were sold out. I'd have got it all from the Rite Aid across the street, but they're caught in bankruptcy and their shelves are, seriously, bare. They don't even have any frozen food; just lots of beer that people walk in and steal.

So I come home and think, I can order some groceries to be delivered and get my stuff that way. Except the Tops I shop at was ALSO out of the things I wanted...like Neutrogena hand cream, which I always get there. Not today. Same for an Icy Hot ointment I use. NO place has it.

I can walk the mile to Target to get those two things. Which I'll do, tomorrow, after an in-home appointment I've got with a Highmark/Blue Cross person. There's an argument between my medical group and them over billing, or something, and they may cut my doctors off. So I'd have to either change insurance in the next 4 weeks or pay for out of network visits, starting in June of next year. I can't afford that.

Then I remembered I have a doctor's appointment on Friday near downtown. I can Uber it for $25 or take the bus. But I also need to hit the bank and stop by the office to get paperwork for the Chicago job...and then how am I getting to the airport to pick up an SUV for next week's job? Got me to looking into bus schedules. But i cannot find out what the fare is. Maybe $1.75 a trip...but that's from a notice posted 15 years ago.

I thought life would be easier, once I got to this age. Instead, the world is disintegrating. I got so off-center I finally just had to lie down on my couch and let myself zone.

Plans tossed aside...

Okay...Chicago job is on. An overnighter. So that had to be set up and worked into my schedule. And I'm having trouble getting a prescription refilled, so that took time. And on top of it, I took my first step in getting back in control of my debt.

I'm using a debt consolidation service that will end my use of a couple of cards that just keep building up. They will work out a deal with my two Mastercards, and I will stop paying 20% a year interest. How it's going to work makes me a bit nervous. I stop making monthly payments and they talk to the cards' people to settle. Should take about six months.

But it's this or I slide into total bankruptcy, and I don't want that. So I've ended a couple of auto-pay charges to them -- like for Ps, Word and internet -- and removed them as usable for flights, hotels and car rental. That last one, with Avis, was a major chore. They wouldn't let me do it online; I had to call to get it straightened out...and got passed up to second tier customer service before it was done.

The good thing is, my rent is rated according to my income. Never more than 30%. And I'll have a lot of deductions, this year, thanks to APoS and the publicity I did for it...that achieved nothing. So maybe in June I can get it lowered.

Guess we'll see how it goes. I just couldn't let things continue as they were, especially if the GOP implements Project 2025's recommendations on Social Security and Medicare. My savings has dwindled way too far down.

Meaning nothing got done on PM. I'm still debating on completing it...but I guess I will. See what happens.

Looks like I'll be working till I'm dead.

Second guessing, once more...

I honestly do not know why I'm working on Porno Manifesto, right now. It was helping me vent some frustrations, but it's proving to be slow-going working in Word, and I'm not sure I'm not wasting my time on a nothing distraction. Again.

What's adding to the pain is going through this script and seeing just how many typos and mistakes it had. So far I've caught myself calling Alec, Alex, five times in just half the script.

One section made absolutely no sense because I'd cut out the part of that was in the book that set it up. And don't get me started on the words missing in the middle of a sentence. God, I wonder if all my scripts were lie this, or if I'm just deteriorating, mentally.

I'd really like to get started on Dair's Window, which is more romance and a bit of history about the marriage fight in 2010, but first I need to get HNH done and out there. Thing is, I can't do anything more on it till I get the feedback from my editor. And considering my current writing capabilities, I'd be an idiot not to wait. God knows how many she'll find.

Bugs is so right about me...

Slow going...

Well, shifting a screenplay from Final Draft to Word is not the easiest thing I've ever done. Actually, it was a pdf copy of the script that I did a cut and paste into a Word doc. Doing that removed all the formatting, but that is not a huge issue. Just a time-consuming one.

Word is cranky at the best of times, for me. So shifting the formatting from the bottom of the page into looking like the top of the page is not A-B-C. I tried to set up tabs but found that wasn't complete enough. So I'm adjusting margins for each bit.

By removing the hard returns at the end of each line, I can make the adjustment apply to an entire bit of dialogue or narrative. That's where it takes time. I'm about 1/3 of the way through the script.

I'm also updating it and making adjustments in the characters and story. Changed one character to a black lesbian. I'm increasing the relationship between my MC, Alec, and a secondary one named Joseph. If all goes well, I should have it done by the end of the week.

Right now, I'm calling it Revenge Manifesto, but that's kind of clumsy. I need a better, more intense one. Like Alec and the Assholes. That's pretty specific, but I don't think it would go over well with the general public. Drop the whole Manifesto bullshit.

I'm still angry about the election and how the Democratic leadership is basically letting the GOP get away with what's looking more and more like voter fraud. The numbers don't add up and people are calling them out about it.

For all the good that'll do.

Another segue...

In honor of the sudden popularity of that vile phrase, Your body, my choice, being hurled at women and girls, I'm reworking Porno Manifesto into a counter-argument. Basically, Alec Presslea is gay-bashed and his bashers are protected by the cops and DA's office. So he sets out to get his own justice.

Which includes him telling his college-boy attackers, "Your ass, my choice." And carrying through with it on a few of them. I think I need a better title, but this does okay, for now.

I don't have Final Draft, anymore, and working in Word to do this as a screenplay is a pain, but it's coming along. What's going to be fun is sending it out to competitions in my usual asshole fashion. I think the story's time has come...pun intended.

It helps me with my anger-issues, right now. Seems the fuck your feelings crowd is a bit taken aback at the fury being directed at them. Nick Fuentes, who's probably the dipshit who most popularized that vile phrase, got doxxed. I honestly don't know if the information being given out about him is correct, since it's a couple years old, but we should find out soon enough.

He's always struck me as a self-loathing closet case out to prove just how much of a monster he can be, so I don't care what happens to him. Same for Andrew Tate, who's waxed eloquently about the joys of getting blow jobs from men at the same time he abuses women. Yeah, some straight-guy heroes for the incels.

What's funny is the assholes on Xitter who think they're getting to me by calling me names and laughing about the situation. They don't seem to like it when I mock them as childish brats unworthy of consideration.

I've stayed in, the last couple days, because it's rather obvious that I am in no mood to be around people. 

Slowly moving forward

Okay, today I got my Library of Congress Control Number for APoS-HNH. And I finished the table of contents, complete. Both the ebook and the hardback files are now conformed with any and all changes made.

So I'm just waiting on my editor to get back to me with her changes and comments on mistakes. I'll input those, page by page on each, at the same time. And then it will be ready to go.

This book...Brendan's story...that I've been working on for nearly 30 years...will be done. I cannot fucking believe it. Just in time for the world to fall apart.

Of course, there are still paperback editions to put out, but those are just a matter of reformatting and updating the table of contents on each. I may issue all of them at the same time. Look into doing a box set.

The last time I did a trilogy was Bobby Carapisi, and I finally combined them all into a single volume that's rather massive...but still only a bit over 192,000 words. I seriously doubt I could get away with it on this one. Total word count for APoS is over 387,000 words. I know that's like a short story to Steven King, but still...

Of course, Gone with the Wind had 418,000 and it's not even in the top ten of lengthy novels. Here's a list I found...

Marienbad My Love by Mark Leach: 17,800,000 words; 10,710 pages. Set in the 60s, this book follows a journalist. 

The Blah Story by Nigel Tomm: A lesser-known work but notable for its length and the use of experimental literary techniques, this comes in three volumes; 11,338,105 words. 

In the Realms of the Unreal by John MacGregor: An examination of Henry Darger's life, it's considered the largest work of fiction ever created, telling the story of seven sisters known as the Vivian Girls. 3,786,250 words. 

Clarissa, or, the History of a Young Lady by Samuel Richardson: This epistolary novel, published in 1748! 950,000 words. (Imagine doing the type-setting by hand...)

Miss MacIntosh, My Darling by Marguerite Young: Published in 1965, this novel is about 750,000 words. 

Jerusalem by Alan Moore: Known for its intricate plot and massive scope; over 600,000 words. 

A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth: One of the longest novels ever published in a single volume; 591,552 words. 

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand: This philosophical novel published in 1957; 561,996 words. 

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy: Originally published in 1869, this renowned Russian novel contains about 560,000 to 587,000 words.

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo: At 545,925 words, published in 1862, this novel is a critical social commentary of 19th-century France.

I feel positively brief, next to them.

It never ends...

Democrats are still begging me for money, and trying to shame me for not giving them any. Fuck that whole fucking party. If they can't beat a creature as vile and reprehensible as that orange traitor, they aren't worth paying attention to, anymore.

Besides, I found out today my Civic's brakes need a major overhaul, and it's costing well into six figures. Lots of corrosion. Drums that need to be replaced. Fluid lines starting to leak. My mushy brakes were the prelude to complete brake failure. Not going that way, I'm not.

What's wild is, they showed me everything while it was up on the lift...and my car's frame is remarkably clean and neat. Minimal rust. Still damned solid in every other way...including the muffler, which I've replaced twice since moving up here

So my choices were...buy a new car (which I cannot afford), do without (which is difficult), or get it fixed. Chose the last one; it's been a damn good car and is worth it. 

I left it there till they got the parts, since they didn't want me to drive the car. Understandably. Liability issues. They paid for an Uber to bring me home. Seems a number of dealers are doing that, now, instead of having courtesy shuttles.

Now I just need to figure out how to handle paying for it. I was stupid enough to work out a plan to bring my debt down. Should have known better. Any time I do that, I get hit by a major expense...jacking it back up.

I did more prep on HNH. I'm at the last step, where I have to delete all hidden bookmarks. That is very tedious and time consuming, so I'll face it, tomorrow.

Guess I'm not retiring from the book-packing for another 20 years...especially if the GOP does away with Social Security.

Black day...

I'm still furious that my obviously racist country preferred a white criminal male to an accomplished black female. I couldn't believe it. The vote was not even close. I halfway think the GOP's voter suppression is the cause, but that won't matter since our Department of Justice is not interested in holding Republican leaders liable for anything.

I'm also more than a little scared. I live off social security and those MAGAt bastards want to cut it back if not do away with it. I have no other source of income that I can live on. My book sales are at the level of petty cash. So I've been bouncing off walls all day.

And all of last night. I could not sleep till nearly 7am, and then only for a few hours. I wound up making potato soup at 4am. It's a comfort food the way I do it -- half dozen or so white potatoes (or Russet), half a large onion, couple of thick carrots, thin deli ham, salt, pepper, quarter cup of butter, and a teaspoon of mint flakes -- all chopped and mixed together with water to cover and let simmer in a crock pot on low for 6-10 hours. 

You can blend it, if you want, but I like to mash the potatoes and carrots together, leaving it all a bit lumpy. Had a bowl when I woke up at 10:30am. Helped a lot.

I managed to do more on prepping HNH for ebook, then lost focus and commiserated with online friends about the horror that is to come, in Washington. I can't escape the country; I don't have any money and I'm deep in debt. I'm going to meet with someone about either consolidating what I owe or going bankrupt. That orange traitor did it enough times. I don't feel like being nice, right now.

I watched a DVD of Death on the Nile with Peter Ustinov as Hercule Poirot...and it was okay. Nowhere near the level of Murder on the Orient Express, where Albert Finney was the sleuth, but good enough.

Oh, and I'd forgotten I once had a major crush on Simon MacCorkindale.

One of those days...

Long and not very easy. Voting went fast because I do it in the community room of my building, and no one was ahead of me. I heard I was #165 voting by 9am. But then I hit Quest for the bloodwork, fasting, and even though I had a 9:30 appointment I wasn't called till after 10am. And the person doing the draw had to play with the veins in my hand to get all they needed. Veins in my arm have long since hidden away. Got a nice little hematoma, there.

I shipped a copy of NWFO off to a cousin who'd asked for a signed one and had to patiently work with a PO Desk clerk who has a neurological disorder that makes her difficult to understand. I also learned because I had one digit wrong on the street address, books I'd sent to a friend were being returned to me. I'd used 12106 instead of 12108.

The office was easy, at least. Talked about the book fair in Hong Kong and how some dealers are ignoring the fact that things are different, now. Hong Kong is not really a free-port, anymore, and new rules have to be followed. Got labels and paperwork for my next packing job and was provided lunch. Beef on Weck from a sandwich shop near the place. It was tasty, but the meat was almost raw...and I didn't feel all that great the rest of the day.

My car's brakes didn't feel good, either, so set up an appointment to have them checked, on Thursday. Bumped getting my haircut till then, too. Got $140 worth of groceries and came home. Took a nap, and got started on reformatting HNH into an ebook...and found a typo. Of course.

I should have waited. I'm back to thinking the damn thing doesn't make any sense or is too simplistic. Too late to make any huge changes...even though I'm going to. One minor character is shifting from male to female because it makes more sense.

I'm impossible.

Damned rules...

Well, it seems in order for me to get a review done at Publishers Weekly, I have to send them an ebook version of Home Not Home. Which I'd forgotten about having to do the two previous times. So the next couple of days...well Wednesday and Thursday...will be taken up prepping one. Irritating.

It's not an easy process, to start with. But I've done it enough times to where it's no longer painful. Just time-consuming. And I can't really start tomorrow because it's voting day and I'm getting bloodwork and going into Caladex for a little while, then grocery shopping and getting a haircut.

I've been putting off the last part for as long as I could. I just didn't want to go out and around people until I had to, and that's what Tuesday's for.

I spent today working up the front cover of HNH and prepping the synopsis for the back cover. I'll need a photo for the back...but haven't found it, yet. Looking at this, now, I'm thinking I'll clean up some of the mess around the lad's eye, to make it clearer. Maybe over the nose, as well. But this is a good start.

Dear God, I'm hoping Harris slaughters that orange traitor, whose name I will not say or write. If he manages to cheat his way in, we're dead as a country.

I think this is it...

I have a really good feeling about this cover mockup. It's got the right blend for what I want -- young, almost blank so any emotion could be read into it. I added a highlight to his eye, but that's all. I'm going to let it sit a few days, but I do feel right about it.

After working on BC, yesterday, I went into blank mode, today. I was half-intending to go out for groceries, today, but just couldn't work up the impetus. Did get laundry done. Last of my paperwork for the jobs this past week. Got a lot of cash coming in but also a lot going out, since a lot of it's reimbursement for my expenses.

BC is still working its way through my mind. I may get back onto that, tomorrow. Or I may go get the groceries I need and a haircut, if anyone's available. And a salad. I'm not big on the green stuff, but sometimes I just plain want it. Hit Panera and get their Fuji Apple with turkey instead of chicken.

A cousin of mine told me she made tamales and suddenly I'm craving the damn things. But there is no-place in this town that offers the real ones, like you find in San Antonio. Small. Slim. Wrapped in a corn husk. Three good bites and it's gone.

The ones they make here are the size of burritos. Not the same thing. And they offer chicken. Sacrilege! Tamales are made with pork! That's like putting chicken in a chef salad. Turkey and ham should be the only meats...maybe with bacon bits...

Not that I'm being didactic.

Do I even inhabit my mind?

I pulled up my original Word doc of Bobby Carapisi, skimmed through it and pulled out the sections I'm keeping for the screenplay to put on a separate document. The next step is to go through that and slice out all the extraneous chit-chat and mental wordage I've put in it, thanks to Eric, Bobby, and Allen.

I'm also updating it from 15 years ago, when it first came out. Bobby now tells his story on his phone instead of a tape recorder. Eric doesn't take his long walk from downtown to Hollywood, anymore; too much of that area's been redeveloped and is now bland. And I chopped out Bobby's courtship of his wife, Donna, and will be combining two of Allen's remembered rapes into one.

There are a couple of TV talk show transcripts I need to figure out how to work around because they are long. As is Eric's ordeal while undergoing the gathering of evidence for the rape kit. At the moment, I'll be lucky to keep it at 150 pages.

So why am I doing this? No idea. It's almost automatic. I did not consciously choose it. My thought, today, was to work up my expenses for the last three jobs and have those ready for Monday...even though I won't get reimbursed until the middle of the month, at the earliest.

I also need to prep for another packing job the week of the 18th. But playing with my book like a screenwriter doing an adaptation took preference.

This won't be the first time I've shifted a long book into a screenplay. I used two books about Beryl Markham to develop a 130 page screenplay about her life up till she flew from the UK to North America, and got an award for it. I just don't know if I can do that with something I originated.

So much of the story's emotional depth comes from the lives I build in each character. It's that way with all my novels, even the erotic ones. I write stories and characters, not porno-crap mean solely to titillate. Maybe that's why I don't do so well with them, sales-wise.

Why? Whhhyyyyyyyy?

I wonder about my brain, sometimes. The directions it takes without my expecting it. How plans I make get shattered because my mental processes refuse to speak to me until they can cause me the most chaos.

I stopped by The Corning Museum of Glass, today, and saw a couple new exhibits and got some ideas on how to makes Dair's chosen art form to be even more impressive when he makes his projects...and had a damn good butternut squash ravioli for lunch. Also learned Blown Away 4 has happened. But it's only on NetFlix. Dammit.

And then, on the final leg of my drive home, what did I do? Work more on the screenplay for Bobby Carapisi. 5 acts; 125 pages, maybe 130, max. Cutting the story to the bone.

Act One -- Eric's assault (alluded to but not shown), and how he's manhandled by the system of justice, despite pushing for justice. His drifts into drugs and prostitution.

Act Two -- Bobby's assault (also alluded to) but he was handled with kid gloves, letting him ignore the effects it's having on him. But rumors keep building.

Act Three -- Eric learns of how Bobby was coddled and hits the media, blowing the story up. Bobby is driven off the baseball diamond and commits suicide. Followed by Eric's guilt over his part in it and an apology to Bobby's mother.

Act Four -- Allen is sent to prison despite claiming his innocence. He insists everything was consensual. But Eric connects with him to tell his story...and investigates his claims, including speaking with a past victim.

Act Five -- Eric locates Allen's family and realizes he was brutally abused by them. He drifted into being part of the assaults, lied non-stop about who he was, and is self-destructive, now...but he finally admits what was done to Bobby

Epilogue -- Allen dies in prison, and Eric is on the road to recovery.

From left field...

So...the job this morning went nice and smooth and I headed straight home...well, to Corning because I'm visiting the Museum of Glass, tomorrow. Then going home. But as I'm driving along what has to be the most tedious stretch of turnpike in America, asking myself questions about Dair's window and other possibilities for HNH's cover...suddenly I started thinking about how to adapt Bobby Carapisi into a screenplay.

I don't know why. No idea where that came from. Just suddenly I'm working up a vague outline. Despite knowing this script would never get made, not in today's Hollywood. It's a story about two men--Eric and Bobby--who are raped by a third--Allen, and a couple of buddies--and how differently each is treated by the system of justice and society.

But I figured out how to tell it without actually showing the rapes. Focus on the emotional and psychological effects. There's Bobby, who's straight and cannot handle the aftermath so commits suicide, while Eric, who's gay, slowly comes to terms with what happened and finds a way back to balance. He also grows to understand who and what Allen was, and why, and winds up feeling sorry for him.

It's not a short book. 468 pages. But I'm thinking a script of maybe 140 pages. And not cheap to make. Bobby's a relief pitcher for an expansion team in LA, so there would be baseball games involved. Including one where he's driven off the field by fans who reject the idea he was sexually assaulted and accuse him of cheating on his wife with a man.

Maybe it's because Bobby's from Philadelphia. There's a pivotal moment where Eric apologizes to Bobby's mother for his unintended part in driving him to kill himself, and I saw a lot of houses that match the description I give of her home. I dunno. The book's been out 15 years...

It's just, I could not shake it and by the time I got to the Corning area, I had it half worked out.

Driving and thinking...

The drive to Philadelphia was just over 7 hours and on the tedious side. I'm too late to see the fall colors in the trees. A couple still had their leaves but most were barren or a dull brown. I wonder what that means for winter...

I think I'm leaning towards reworking Dair's Window into a readable form. I've read through most of what I'd already written, and it's like a long-form outline or treatment for a novel. The gimmick of having it told by a dead man is okay to start with, but then it drifts into too much exposition and not enough revealing the story as it happens.

That's what I tried to do with A Place of Safety -- having the story actually happen as it's being told. I don't know how successful I was, but I did get some good feedback on the first two volumes. 

One potential problem with what I've written is when Adam is telling of his life. He was kicked out of his home, at age fifteen, for being gay and made a ward of the state. Then he was housed with a good Christian man who looked after several similar boys...and secretly pimped them out to various older men. To which, the state turned a blind eye.

That was in Quebec. Adam escaped it by going to Vancouver and finding work there. The thing is,  that could be seen as child pornography. I don't detail what happens, but it is an issue I need to think about, these days. Especially as regards teenage boys. The MAGAt crowd loves to scream about that while ignoring how its own members molest little girls.

That said...it's an important part of what makes Adam the feral creature he is, when he connects with Dair, and how he changes. Even as he brings out the best in Dair's art. So I need it for his character.

Hmm...I wonder if I'm aiming to be too genteel...or maybe I'm just cowardly...

My age is telling...

The last few days have been really vicious on me. I was keeping myself on East Coast time with my body clock but apparently my inner workings didn't like that. It started with my flight to Seattle winding up being nearly 45 minutes late. So I didn't effectively get to be till after 3am, so I think I got adjusted to West Coast and just didn't realize it.

At the Seattle Book Fair everything was going great...till one dealer lost his labels and couldn't figure out if he'd packed them or thrown them away. So I scrambled to find a solution that only pissed off other people. But couldn't be helped. Also, one dealer was going back to London but I could not find a heat-treated pallet to build them onto (it's required for int'l shipments), so that's something else that needed to be taken care of, Monday. When I could not be there.

Because Monday, I was getting up at 5am to catch a 7am flight so I could get to San Francisco early enough to handle a pickup. And I really felt like I was getting up at 5am.

Then the pickup went completely wrong and I wound up having to bring 32 boxes of books down a very awkward set of stairs to pack them into my car. Fortunately, Avis handed me a Dodge Charger (with 70,000 miles on it!) but that trunk and back seat were big enough to handle it. And at the warehouse, I packed the container they were being shipped in.

By the time it was all done, I was exhausted, yet still had to get up at 6am for an 8am flight home. I had to leave that early so I didn't wind up getting home at 1am, because tomorrow I'm driving to Philadelphia.

I'm too old for this shit.

What's good is, during the prelude to handling Seattle, I managed to search Shutterstock for some images...and this is getting close to what I want for the cover of A Place of Safety-Home Not Home.

There's another image of this same model, who looks a lot like an Irish actor I thought would be good for Brendan, where his head isn't cocked, at all. I'll check that out later.

Right now...I need to water my plants and take a shower and sleep.

Think, again...

I swear...I get all excited about an image and work up a cover with it and it's exactly what I want...and then the next day I find something better. Maybe. Not sure yet. Not 100% on this particular face. Or the lack of hair on his head. But...I do feel better about the feeling behind this one, where he's sort of vanishing into the wall.

I'll be like this for a while until I find the one that works. The cover for New World For Old is maybe a bit on the bland side, but it fits the story so I still like it. And having each of the images on the HB framed, and showing a slow progression of Brendan from boy to young man, fits for me.

I may keep tinkering over the next week. I'll be handling the move-out for the Seattle Book Fair on Sunday then hopping down to San Francisco to deal with a pickup of more books, then flying home and driving to Philly for another. so the week is taken up by traveling and business. I won't have a lot of time to relax and focus, a bit.

Thinking about the paperback covers...I halfway expect to go a lot simpler, for them. Not sure yet. I'll need to buy fresh ISBNs to use.

God, I've sunk so much money into my novels. Artwork and graphics and editing and set-up and details...and I'm nowhere near breaking even. I'm happy people are reading my work...and I get mostly good feedback on it all...but it'd be nice to actually make some serious revenue, for a change. Pay off my debts before I die.

Yeah, right, that's gonna happen.

I think I have my cover...

I was searching through Shutterstock for images of the Troubles in NI and not having much luck. Nothing was catching my eye until I inadvertently scrolled too far to the bottom and noticed the wall with IRA Ghost written on it. I added the No at the top.

I saved it and went looking for something or someone to put in front of it and, after a huge number of wrong directions and a couple of guys who would work all right...I found this model in a different pose. Just head and shoulders with a light on half his face. I dug into his images to see if the light was better placed...

And this is what I caught. I had to shift the image 40 degrees counter-clockwise and remove the color profile to make it work...but I really like this mock-up. I'll post it on Facebook and get some feedback. See if anyone agrees with me.

I set up HNH with the Library of Congress for a copyright and LCCN. And I have a couple of queries out regarding getting reviews for the book. Next step is to get my template for the cover from Ingram.

I don't want to start doing the ebook format till I get my notes back from my editor. I've got a solid Table of Contents in the HB format, but that doesn't shift to ebook. All they want is links between the ToC and chapters. But I'll be having plenty of fun making corrections in the text and do not feel the need to do that in two different files.

Getting closer and closer...

Formatted for hardcover...

Home Not Home is set in hardcover format. 262 pages in 6x9" layout. Now all I'm waiting on is my editor's feedback and corrections before I set it up to start printing...which will take a while.

I am going to send this version in to be copyrighted, tomorrow, and get my Library of Congress Control Number for the card catalogue. It's good enough for that. Then when I get back from next week's round of jobs, I'll start in hard on the cover.

I'm in a weird space, right now...knowing the end of this project is coming and not sure how I feel about it. A Place of Safety has taken up decades of my life and to finally be at the point of completion is bringing me into uncharted territory. One part of me is relieved. Another part joyous. And yet more of me is nervous, knowing it's near a point where I can do no more with it and don't really want to let go...like a parent with a grown child.

I have several other stories to concentrate on. Darian's Point, all three sections, none of which would be a book unto themself. Dair's Window. The rest of Blood Angel. And with every one of these, there's a lot I've already written. So I'd need to re-familiarize myself with them.

I may just take some time off to recharge. A lot depends on how the election goes. If that convicted felon manages to steal this election like he did in 2016, I have no idea what I'll do. Because he's not the one who will wind up running things; that backstabbing POS Vance will, and he is worse than inhuman; he's a cyborg.

But we'll know how it ends in two weeks, won't we?

Sometimes great ideas are just shit...

I had this wonderful idea of putting a dream Brendan has near the every end of the book and just knew it fit there, perfect....and I just moved it to earlier. Where it made a hell of a lot more sense not only structurally but emotionally. Which took a bit of reworking.

So I contacted my editor and found she hasn't had a chance to start working on the copy I sent her, last week, so asked her to hold off and I'd send her this one. I've worked up a neater version for her to work with, in Word, and even did a Table of Contents to help. I hope.

It's good I'm pretty much set with the story. Looks like word will come, tomorrow, that I'm taking a side trip from Seattle to San Francisco, on Monday, to help collect some fragile books. I'd be flying home the next morning. And Wednesday, I'm driving to Philadelphia for another collection and coming back.

So the week is shot for anything I might want to do. I'll need to get HNH off by Friday for copyright, LCCN and Reviews. Fun. I need at least an avatar I can attach to them. Dammit.

I'm getting a new idea...that I might build a cover image similar to the one I wanted using Shutterstock's images. It'd have to be a compilation of images, since they don't have anything close to what I really want. I may even have a photo I can scan in from my trip to Derry in 2002. There was still some serious scarring in the city.

I'll check into it when I'm back.

Still writing...

Well...as of now Home Not Home is up to 103,750 words. While doing the formatting I had an idea and I'm incorporating it, so it's still changing. But this idea helps with the serendipity of what happens in the book. It boils down to Brendan thinking this:

Jeremy once told me a story about the six nations living in Canaan. The land was rich and arable. Water abounded. So far as we knew, they existed in harmony with the world and their neighbors. We’ve found no stories to the contrary.

But then the Hebrews showed up and asked them to move so they could have the land. Claimed God had given it to them.

Of course, the six nations said, "No. We were here, first."

The Hebrews responded, "Leave or be destroyed." Said the six nations were not worthy of the earth they tilled.

The six nations were offended by such a claim and refused to depart. So the Hebrews came roaring in and each nation was destroyed, in turn. Annihilated to the point of genocide...and everything they had was lost. 

Everything. 

A strong group of people had decided they wanted something that wasn't theirs and didn’t care who said otherwise. A bit like in Da’s story with the Tuatha de Danaan and the Ui Bruiuns. And definitely what the British had done in Ireland and India, Europe did with the indigenous nations and Africa, and Russia did with Eastern Europe. And so it continues to this day.

Some would call this attitude bleak and claim it lacked understanding of man’s capacity for great love and empathy. But in truth, man does not want to be different from the beasts, not really. The hope for such illusions is only in his head, not his heart, and one can achieve nothing without the other. It has always been so and always will be so, and all the belief in the world means little in the face of it. To claim mankind is a creature built of anything but animalistic selfishness is to fly in the face of reality.

I'm also still casting around for a cover image for the book. Crap, it would have been so much better if I'd been able to get a mainstream publisher to take the book on. Maybe I can still work that, once all three are available.

Cover needed.

I've been digging through Shutterstock for a potential cover for HNH...and my ideas are just not working. I was thinking of this guy in front of a burnt out background but that seems kind of...nothing. And he looks Latino, not Irish.

I do still like the image I first came up with, of the young man between two buildings, but it seems no one ever took the photo so I can give no attribution nor license it from them. And I'm leery of doing that.

When I rewrote The Playboy of the Western World into a western, I called it The King of the Cowboys. Just a title, right? You can't copyright a title. No problem there.

Except...when I won Best Screenplay at the Houston International Film Festival, Roy Rogers' estate learned of it and let me know it had been trademarked for him, and him alone. So I was forced to change it to The Cowboy King of Texas.

Not nearly as good.

I don't want a repeat.

Political rant, so be warned...MAGAts espouse the policy of abuse...

This came up on my Tumblr feed, and I am livid.

This cunt would sooner have a child die than be who she or he wants to be.

socialistexan said:

People like this are abusers are and the ones who should be investigated and have their children taken away, not LGBTQ parents. This is neglect, this is open contempt for the life of your child.

If you can't handle the idea that your child will be LGBTQ, you will openly abuse them if they are, if you would not accept and love them for who they are no matter what, and you allow them to die through neglect then you should never have children. Period.

 quasi-normalcy

Loving "The Child" but hating your actual children

 tally-bot-official-deactivated2

but like. they haven't EVER been hiding it. if you think they've been hiding it: you haven't been near them. most conservatives are VOCALLY pro-abuse. sometimes without prompting.

the abuse itself is hidden, allowed, and supported by the policies and norms that conservatives support:

consider that the bounds of a family house and the structure of a nuclear family keeps abuse out of public sight. away from witnesses.

consider that homeschooling and private schooling both can effectively keep kids away from people who could help identify and report abuse

consider that the cops and CYS don't care about abuse and often only check houses for signs of poverty. they often tell kids they're lying. the cops and CYS often threaten the kids. often don't interview the kids alone, even though they're supposed to. they often don't check for bruises. they often don't care if bruises are visible. they often use racial profiling instead of investigating.

consider that cops are statistically WAY more likely than average to be domestic abusers and child abusers in the first place.

consider that child abuse laws are dangerously lax in most states. in PA, the definitions of terms like "mental injury", "endanger", and "bodily injury" are too poorly defined to be effectively used. this means that it's legal to non-lethally kick, bite, throw, burn, stab or cut a child in PA within certain VERY VAGUE, POORLY DEFINED, AND HARD TO PROVE conditions.

consider that cops don't even KNOW the law, let alone care about enforcing it. I've had cops say to my face that my dad was allowed to put me in a choke-hold which interfered with my breathing even though the law EXPLICITLY SAYS THAT'S CHILD ABUSE IN PA.

consider that parents control their child's ability access to medical services, a right that conservatives have fought to uphold. if, for instance, my dad perhaps fractured my rib, he could prevent me from getting an x-ray. if he did that, he could effectively get away with it. just hypothetically.

consider that all these factors compound with other marginalization. police are more likely to take a nonwhite kid than a white kid even though rates of abuse are comparable. police are more likely to take a poor kid than a rich kid even though rates of abuse are comparable. police are more likely to say a trans kid or a "stubborn" kid or a gay kid are lying. and police are ALREADY so bad on these fronts.

consider that the most violent members of a household are often given the full power over that household.

consider that conservatives disapprove of divorce. this encourages worse household situations and removes ways to get out.

consider that they also disapprove of anything that would lighten the workload of childrearing. this results in further stressors. and consider that they encourage making the most babies possible as fast as possible. more stressors.

consider that conservatives consistently oppose any and all laws limiting the legal powers of parents over their children.

consider that conservatives oppose any and all efforts to make emancipation easier or even possible.

consider that conservatives oppose a drop in the voting age. they often express a wish for it to get higher.

consider that their politics rely on extended control and indoctrination to turn kids conservative. they want more time to indoctrinate.

consider that their love of power originated from a yearning for power when they themselves were powerless. consider that they want to instill that same yearning in their kids to propagate their beliefs. Abuse, Indoctrination, and Hierarchy. these are the THREE MOST IMPORTANT ways to uphold cultural authoritarianism.

CONSERVATISM IS THE POLITICS OF ABUSERS.

plain and simple

 mensexyhairy

She should NOT be allowed to have any children ugly motherfuker

 kmscb

I have nothing to add to this except that woman is a beast. God damn people like her.

Dear God, how I hate Republicans and MAGAts like this.

Not a good day...

I got a couple vaccines, yesterday afternoon -- Covid and Flu. And I have felt like crap all day. Achy. Tired. Unfocused. I slept late and then took an hour and a half nap, and that seems to help the most. But it messes me up when I'm trying to work.

My eyes also hurt, so I took off my glasses and made muffins and pancakes for dinner. I do feel better, but still on the edge. 

I did manage to go through Home Not Home to check up on the spellings of certain names. Like for Mrs. Kieffer, who I wrote as Keiffer, twice. And O'Cainann, which I entered as O'Cannain once. A couple of others, too, that I noted as I went through with Word Editor.

I don't want to do any more because I sent it off to my editor for their feedback, and I don't want to have to deal with corrections that will need correcting once I get her notes back.

So a lot of the day was piddly shit. Political arguments on Twitter. Talking to friends on Facebook. Wrapping myself in a big, black piece of felt cloth and cocooning. And feeling sorry for myself.

I think I will format what I've got into printable parameters, so I can send it in for copyright and an LCCN. I may also send it to BookLife for a review. It's close to what I want it to be, I think.

I'm leery of doing Kirkus, again, after what happened with New World For Old. But we'll see.

Synopsis...

Does this work as a synopsis for Home Not Home? Is it extensive enough? Not too short?

----------

April 1981

The hunger strike has been underway for a month and Northern Ireland is in turmoil. Brendan would avoid it all, but he learns his mother is terminally ill and is told she wants to see him. So he returns to Derry under an assumed name only to find that she is actually still antagonistic to him. 

His younger sister, Maeve, is caring for her while also working for peace; his younger brother, Rhuari, is married and keeping himself as much out of the back and forth with the Army, as possible; while his youngest brother, Kieran, despises him and is in gleeful full-on confrontation with the Brits and RUC. What is worse, his older brother, Eamonn, is in the Maze prison, and Ma is pushing for him to add his name to the growing list of hunger strikers.

Brendan stays to help Maeve, who is stretched to her limit, while trying to keep as low a profile as possible. But his mother’s ramblings while under the effect of Percocet make him want to learn more about her and his father, leading him to a new possibility as to why the man was murdered.

He also learns Joanna might still be alive but no one will verify it or help him find out for himself.

Then Bobby Sands dies. Derry erupts in fury, and Brendan finds himself caught up in the chaos of the times as the British Army comes looking for him.

Re-centering...

Well...the trips to the UK and to San Antonio have thrown my blood sugar readings completely out of whack, the last few weeks. I'm hitting 132 to 224 to 194 to 210, both before breakfast and 2 hours after dinner. When I want them to be under 130 in the morning and 180 at night.

I know that chili dog didn't help, but I needed it to be my emotional support food after getting this draft of APoS-HNH done. I guess I'll have to spend a week eating nothing but salads to regroup.

I do like the Fuji Apple salad at Panera. I just have them substitute deli turkey for its chicken. And I brought home lettuce and tomatoes for my own, along with some serious balsamic vinegar to mix with olive oil. I just don't wanna have to become a vegan. I like cheese and milk to damn much.

Okay...sensing a bit of my whine-ery attitude firing up...and I'm going to deflect some of it by reminding myself I finished another draft of the last volume of my big novel and I'm fucking proud of it. I think the ending I found works ten times better than the one I had. No matter what happens, now, I'll have honored Brendan's life as best I can.

And will make it even cleaner and more meaningful in this next pass.