More than halfway...

...And still making changes to streamline the read. And cut out some proselytizing by Brendan. I have to keep in mind that through this half of the book, he's no older than 18. Sometimes I let observations slip in that are perhaps too adult and aware for him. He's not a fool, even though his mother thinks he is, but he doesn't yet have the knowledge needed to make some of his comments.

That said, he is more mature than most 18 year-olds (as opposed to his cousin, Scott) because he's lived in what was, effectively, a war zone occupied by the British Army. He's experienced brutality and seen horrific deaths. And he's smart enough to know the occupiers will be allowed to do anything they want without legal repercussion.

Like with Bloody Sunday--he figured out something the Widgery Report didn't address. The paratroopers who stormed the anti-internment demonstration on January 30, 1972 came with live ammunition in their rifles. Their intent was to kill people, which they did. 14 men and boys. And the only reason Bren wasn't number 15 was sheer luck.

Seeing death like that and knowing how the killers will walk away, scot-free, colors your view of the world. That's when he started the process of getting the hell away. Which led to him nearly being killed in a bombing and hidden at his aunt's home in Houston under another name, as he recuperates.

Then in the summer of 1973, a new friend of his, Jeremy Landau, is off to work on a kibbutz for a year, and winds up in the IDF during the Yom Kippur war. When he finally returns home, the following summer, he's lost and caught in the horror of it, and he figures out Brendan is the only other person he knows who's seen death like that. The only one who'd understand, and who he can talk to.

They become more like brothers than the lads who share their blood.

Final read-through of APoS-NWFO

And I DO mean final -- even though I'm still finding typos and issues. For example, I have Brendan digging up a copy of Mario Puzo's The Godfather at two different times in the story. Dumb. And I've found a couple of moments that needed a bit of finessing to make them clearer and smoother. But overall, I'm a third of the way through and haven't decided I'm completely full of shit, yet.

I'm at the point where Scott drags Brendan to a gay bar and it turns out there's a drag show, that night. This is where he meets Everett, who helps him handle Scott after he's had too much to drink. AKA: Chapter 12.

I'm doing this read-through in its 6x9" format, Times New Roman font in 10", .3" gutter and different even and odd pages. Viewing it at 200% size. The header and footer haven't been set, yet, so that might change the pagination a little, but right now the number of pages of text is 316, and it's just below 142,000 words. I'm going to keep it as much like Derry as I can.

I'm still thinking about what to do for the cover. I kind of like the double passport image, and also kind of like the idea of his painted portrait, but neither of them grabs me like the initial one of the boy in a doorway I used for Derry. So still thinking about options.

I've emailed Martin Melaugh with information about the book, including a jpg of the full cover and links to the reviews at Kirkus and BookLife. And I've offered to send him a copy. This makes me very nervous, because he actually lived through these times while I'm really more of an interloper. I don't know how I'd handle it if he tells me the story's bullshit. I guess we'll see what happens.

God, I want to make another trip to the Cliffs of Moher. They've become a touchstone for my Irish writings.

Goddamned typos...

I read through The Prussian, volume 2 of Blood Angel, and found four typos. Irritating, but not bad, for me. I did this to remind myself of Léonidès' voice. His is different from Brendan's; his English and manner of talk more formal and precise while Brendan's is more lyrical and casual. Can't have one bleed into the other.

I'm still trying to figure out the lead-in to the story, and considering other changes to my initial outline. Not that it matters. Once I get into writing it, my hope is the characters will take over and lead me into the part where Léon wants to find his sister and trade Franz for Dmitriy (they can formally do that with a BA they've turned).

Dmitriy is a BA who Gabrielle thought could become her mate. But he was in the closet and only had sex with her to prove to himself he wasn't gay. Now that he's turned, he cannot deny who and what he is, and he and Léon really like each other. But Gabrielle's pissed off about it and refuses to release him to Léon. Hence the offer of trade, since Franz is decidedly heterosexual and filled with violence. Which Gabrielle likes. But that's in Volume 4.

Tomorrow, I'm doing a read-through of APoS-NWFO to get a sense of whether or not it's holding together. If I don't find fault in it...which is probably unlikely...I'm sending it out for proofing and editing. I know I keep saying that, but it's time to put a stop to my incessant rewriting. I'm at the stage of wondering if I should replace a but with an and, which is really kind of nuts.

I should also start figuring out what to do about the artwork for the dust jacket of the hardback. And when I should release Derry in paperback...so will need new artwork for that. And figure out a way to finance this all. It's not that expensive, anymore, but still I'm pretty much on the edge when it comes to my bank account.

And lack of interest in Derry. It's been exhibited in 2 book shows and no bump from either of them, while good reviews from Kirkus and BookLife aren't really bringing in readers.

But still...I carry on. I owe it to Brendan.

The usual excuses...

I spent much of today working up an outline for Blood Angel-Franz, which would be volume 3 of the series. Volume 2, The Prussian, takes place during the Franco/Prussian war of 1870-71, which culminated with the fall of Paris. That was like a smorgasbord of victims for vampires to feast upon, and Léonidès, my MC, and his vampire troupe are there to partake. 

He happens upon a wounded cuirussier (Franz), who's tending to his injured horse...and falls in love with his physical perfection. He also senses Franz has the Blood Angel gene in him so could be a mate for Léon, convincing himself the young man has a gentle nature.

But first, he must get the Oiym's okay to turn Franz into one of them, and they refuse. They can tell Franz would be a detriment to the vampire world, so Léon is forced to release him once he's well. One cannot go up against the Blood Angel Council. Except one of them, Luahl, decides he wants Franz, himself...not to keep, to kill.

He attacks the young man, thinking he will have fun raping him, first, only Franz manages to fight him off, severely wounding him, but not before he's been bitten. Now he's beginning to change. That's when all the brutality and evil in Franz is no longer held in check by societal good manners...and he begins to wreak a horrific trail of death across central Europe.

Since no vampire may kill another, Léon fights to find a way to gain control of Franz, even as word spreads from village to town to city that there are vampires on the loose, and they need to be found and destroyed.

That control finally comes through an alliance between Leon and Gabrielle, his sister...but not until Book 4, currently sub-titled 1871. Franz is straight and Léon knows Gabrielle loves to break men to her will so goes looking for her. This part is pretty much written, so I may bring it out not long after Volume 3.

Oh, and I've finally found my image of Gabrielle -- Assumpta Cerna, a Spanish actress in Pedro Almodòvar's Matador. She's a literal man-killer in that film, obsessed with a damaged matador who's a serial killer of women.

Mix in the amazing color palate and you've got peak Almodòvar.

Me and my distractions...

Got busy with my expenses and invoices, today, and also called my youngest brother to talk. Seems I'm invited to see a cousin of mine who's visiting San Antonio. My sister'll be there, maybe a nephew, and possible my younger brother, with whom I haven't spoken since burying our mother, and another cousin. And there is no way in hell I'm going.

Helps that it's in a few days and air fares are insane, so I can say, Don't expect me, without seeming rude. But the fact is, even if I'd had plenty of warning, I would not have gone. That side of the family cut me off in 1987 after I was outed to them. They thought I had AIDs; I'm HIV negative. Still, I get no information from them. Don't know which of my cousins is married and which not, how many kids they have, grandkids, their addresses, anything. 

On the two occasions where I was informed of my uncle's and a cousin's deaths, I was specifically asked not to come to the funerals. I wasn't even told my aunt died till after she was buried (she was my mother's sister and converted to Catholicism when she got married). And I only found out another cousin had died, by accident. I still don't know when, where, how, why, anything.

They do not want me in their lives, and I'm finally okay enough with that. I visited my aunt once, some years ago, wanting to have a quiet talk with her...but she brought everyone in as if it were a big reunion, so that didn't happen. I left as soon as it was polite enough to. I was beginning to feel as if I had to make myself acceptable to them...or apologize for being who I am...or something, and I ain't doing that, no more. I am who I am, and it took me too damned long to be able to say that.

I used a bit of this when writing Everett's history, in APoS-NWFO. He reveals being ostracized by his family to Brendan after he's been made feel welcome at Aunt Mari's home, but coaches it as a warning. After he's gone, Brendan realizes Aunt Mari invited him in so she could work him out. She's uncomfortable that he's gay and warns Bren he may try to manipulate him into being gay, too.

Brendan rejects her worries but finds he's lost a bit of respect for his aunt. And later, she is the one who betrays him in ways unforgivable. But even at this early stage he knows that's how all people are, down deep. In the right place at the right time for the right reasons, anyone will stab you in the back.

Anyone.

Home and catching up to myself...

I don't have a lot of honest reason to complain, because 2 of the jobs this last week were merely pickups and no packing involved. Well, no packing till they were back at the warehouse and had to go into containers. But still...by the end of it, I was exhausted. And then had to deal with Southwest being inconsistently consistent.

After everything going so smoothly on my flight down to Dallas, and then the ease with which I shifted my flight to San Francisco to one that worked better for me...my first flight home was delayed to the point I would miss my connection, in Denver. With no other flight available to follow it. I'd have been stuck there.

I reworked it to where I left from San Jose, instead...and found as pretty as that airport's terminals are on the outside, the gate I had to go to was straight out of 1960. Then, as usual, my flight in Denver landed at one end of a terminal (that long middle one) and I had to go all the way to the other end. Within 10 minutes.

I also lost my Early Bird check-in and wound up in C group for boarding, both flights. A bit of whining and over-emphasizing my elderly aches and pains got the gate person to let me on the flight to Denver as needing more time, which put me ahead of B Group, and I managed to snag an aisle seat on the second row. So soon as we landed, I was off like a shot.

Made it as they were boarding the flight to Buffalo. Did power-walking, including along the moving walkways. No time to grab anything to eat. When I finally arrived in Buffalo, it was too late to get anything. This is not a 24 hour city, not like LA. There, I could have stopped at Norm's, had a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, biscuits, short stack of pancakes, at 1am, and been totally happy.

Another reason I miss LA.

BUT...I did get some proofing done on APoS-NWFO. Spell-checked and defended my grammar choices according to Word's specifications and feel pretty good about it. I am doing one more read-through to make certain a couple of sections really do work, but then I'm going to be an adult and let it go out into the real world for proofing, editing and feedback.

Any takers?

I miss California...

Going from the mess that is Dallas to the San Francisco bay area just reminded me of how much I miss my home state. I was born in San Diego and have always loved coming here, even when I was pissed off about aspects of it. Too damned expensive to live in. Gas prices are insane. Traffic is gnarly. But...

And this is a big BUT...

It's a state of dreams and moments of un-paralleled beauty you just can't find anywhere else.

Case in point, I flew into SFO at 6:45pm, last night, and got my minivan, then went to a Safeway close to the airport to get water, milk and edibles (including an amazing strawberry cheesecake that destroyed my blood sugar readings) and in the parking garage was an older man polishing a turquoise 1952 Chevrolet Belair coupe in perfect condition.

I'm not a fan of Chevys. I had a brutally traumatic experience in one and cannot divorce that from the car line. But this moment...under fluorescent lights that seemed to shine just right...it was so lovely I had to stop and ask if I could take a photo of him at work. He preferred I not, so I didn't. I just watched before going into the store. He was gone when I came out.

I miss those moments. I've never seen them, elsewhere. The closest I've come to this, with cars, was a parade of Minis in Brighton one Sunday, eight or nine years ago. A thousand of them, all years and models, passing by then lining up on the boardwalk, below.

If I could afford it, I'd move back, in a heartbeat.

Dallas is an afterthought...

Man, I do not like Dallas. It's an ugly city, where the streets make no sense, traffic is nonstop,  no matter where you drive you find broken roads and run down buildings, and it has the attitude of a third child who's got grievances about not being the primary kid. (Houston and San Antonio have larger populations.)

But...as a Metroplex, which includes Fort Worth and dozens of surrounding cities, it's the fourth largest in the country. It's almost like, See? Even though I'm number three, I'm number one. It depresses me.

Even Google Maps was taken aback by Dallas' ways. It was scrambling to tell me when to turn left or keep to the right, usually a moment after I needed to because even with me pulling my LA attitude I couldn't get in-between most drivers. Then it would yell at me and tell me the new route...5 times in 5 different ways.

I finished the packing job and went to drop the shipment off to be crated...but couldn't find the facility. No signage. I drove around for 5 minutes before finding a guy and asking him where the place was, and he directed me to an opening tween two warehouse buildings. Everyone was very nice and polite, but it's almost like they didn't want to be noticed or bothered or something, and I was interrupting their anonymity.

But everything is done, I made it back to my hotel, and I was so fucking exhausted I crashed. Slept. Made myself go out to a nearby Taco Cabana for an enchilada plate. 1.3 miles away only took 20 minutes to get to, and two wrong turns, thanks to rush hour traffic. Added to my depression.

At least I was smart enough not to dig into NWFO. When I'm in this kind of mood I just tear my work apart. I'm probably being too sensitive about it. Truth is, there are parts of what I've written that I'm really proud of. But that's immaterial to anyone who's in the creative arts. All it'd take is one comment to cut through the self-proclaimed joy and turn to hating your work.

Even Larry McMurtry apparently went through times where he did not like his writing.

Travelin' man

I'm reading Larry McMurtry's Books: A Memoir as I fly to Dallas and it's interesting. He's talking mainly about becoming a bookseller and the people he's dealt with along the way, many of whom I knew from my years at Heritage Book Shop. He even references Ben and Lou Weinstein, saying the shop is closed. They actually downsized, drastically, in mid 2007, while this book came out a year later.

I like McMurtry's style of writing; very casual and calm. I also enjoy his slight discussions about books he's read, making me interested in reading some of them, myself. But one point really caught me. He's talking about reading literature dealing with the first and second world wars and notes that the first world war ended a civilization. Germany, Austria-Hungary, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire collapsed at the end of it, and some books he's read detail that as it's happening, written by people who can see it. And the British, French and Belgian empires were also falling apart.

That fascinates me. But what's best is when he mentions the quarrels Churchill has with Stalin during the war. Stalin's comment was, effectively, History will judge which of us is right. To which Churchill is reputed to have replied, "Yes, and I'll write the history." Which he did. It feeds into my comments, before, that history is written by the winners. 

I think I have a copy of Barbara Tuchman's The Guns of August but haven't read it. I'll need to check on that, because now I want to. I'm getting a sense that we're undergoing a seismic shift in the world, right now, what with Russia's war on the West being waged online and through propaganda, not just her terrorism of Ukraine, and Western leaders are not really paying attention.

Cyberpunk lives. William Gibson rules.

Another one bites the dust...

Newest draft finished. 142,146 words. Done before I head off on a series of jobs, next week. I've got it saved onto an external hard drive and plan to do one more read-through before sending it out. But I can do that on the road. I'll also do a spell-check, which will take hours because of all the colloquialisms I used.

The story goes from him coming back to consciousness in Houston in April 1993 to when he's about to head home because his mother is ill, in January 1981. It's become more of an emotional journey for Brendan than I'd expected, which is good. I like to think he's developing as the story goes along.

NWFO is about 2000 words more than Derry, but that's livable. And will probably change once I get feedback. If any. I posted at the beginning of May that I'd provide a free ebook of Derry to anyone willing to do a review of it. honest review. Not one person has contacted me about it.

I look at all the books I've sold and how few reviews I have over all my work. It's rather disheartening. Either they didn't like the book and don't want to say anything, or they just don't care. I don't mind a negative review; I've learned from them. I just wish I wasn't being ignored.

I'm in a mood. I don't feel good. Sinus thing I'm fighting. I've already done two Covid tests to be safe and both are negative. It's just that time of year for my nose to go nuts at the pollen and such in the air.

Perfect.

Recount...

Okay, I give up. After going back through the number of times I've reworked and restructured NWFO, and the fact that I'm doing another restructuring of a section that's becoming more demanding, no question this is draft ten. Completely. Totally. Absolutely. With no caveats. And may do an eleventh.

The word count is now below 142,000 and could go lower. Or higher. Because as I was reworking Brendan's reaction and plans after learning he is, in effect, a vague prisoner of his current situation, all hell broke loose. And made what follows even more telling about him.

He starts dating Evangelyne, effectively giving the finger to his aunt and uncle. She's Cajun but in Houston that's pretty much considered black and is frowned upon. It's beginning to mess with Uncle Sean's plans to open another bar and he's not happy about it.

Brendan's also planning to settle his immigration status himself by speaking with Jeremy's uncle, who's a well-connected lawyer in Austin and DC. The man handled bringing him in on a medical visa and got it extended, once, so he knows the basics of the situation.

But he grows close to Vangie and is thinking of asking her to marry him...until he's warned off by her father. "She's got plans, and if she's married to you, they're dead." So Brendan feels he needs to break things off with her, but before he can he's brutalized by a group of racists, and nearly dies, thanks to his weakened heart.

Then comes to find out his uncle and someone he considered a friend were involved in setting up the attack.

Once upon a time...

I bitch and complain and whine about how much rewriting I do and feel the need for, over and over and over. But every now and then I find that I'm missing a great opportunity to make the story better. It's usually something I'd only glossed over in earlier draft. And no matter how many times I come to that realization, sometimes after the book's been published, I keep making that mistake.

For example, in the Beast in the Nothing Room, Finn (the MC) learns he has a fraternal twin who was sold for adoption to a wealthy German couple, at birth. This has only a minimal effect on him, which is nonsensical.

They meet in the course of Finn's investigation of something impossible, find they have a lot in common regarding what's happening, and wind up as lovers. Sort of a sneaky roundabout way of doing some twin-cest.

But one reader pointed out that while they liked the book, they didn't believe that relationship. And thinking about it, I missed a couple of opportunities to deepen their connection and Finn's conflict. Like when they were flying to Reading on a private plane and they have a quick, almost perfunctory conversation about the situation. Necessary, but boring. It could have been a lot more intense.

Something similar happened at the end of Porno Manifesto, where Alec and Joseph wind up together...not because the story was leading to that but just because it made for a nice, quick ending. That is never a good reason for anything in a book.

Well, this time going through NWFO, I found one such moment I'd been paying little attention to...and am rectifying that. It's after Brendan realizes he's something of a prisoner of his Aunt and Uncle and wants to get away from them. But first he feels the need to contact his sister in Toronto and, hopefully, find out why he was set up like this. She's headed down to Houston with her family for a visit, in the coming July, but all I do is reference how his aunt won't give him Mairead's address so he can write her.

The fact that he just sticks around trying to figure things out on his own after learning this didn't really work...but was necessary. Then I finally saw what was so damned obvious. His sister's upcoming visit in a few months. He puts his plan to disappear on hold till he can talk to her, face to face. Also gives him time to build up some cash and expand on a couple of friendships, in case he needs them.

One of which, with Evangelyne, leads to a nightmare.

Heading home

Job is done and I'm headed home. Everything went very smoothly, except for the last leg of my return trip being half an hour late. But I had my fix of Panda Express, a surprisingly good cheese quesadilla done fajita style in Baltimore's airport, a short meander around Newport and side trip to Fort Adams--which does not even begin to compare to Fort Niagara; you have to take a guided tour--but overall it was nice.

Here's hoping the jobs next week will be as easy and on-time. 

I've trimmed more out of NWFO and feel better about how it's flowing. Brendan's pressing forward in trying to handle his situation and rebuild his life, even though there are setbacks. He's a kid who's always gone his own way, and is finding that's even harder to do, now.

I'm at the point in the story where he's joining Evangelyne and her family on a trip the New Orleans, for Mardi Gras. Which might be a problem because her brother, Lon, the one who's driving, is a cop and keeps eyeing Brendan like he suspects he's done something wrong. But it's too late to back out; they're in Lon's Oldsmobile station wagon heading down the 10 to New Orleans.

Brendan's proud of himself for going because he knows Joanna would have done so. That's his mantra -- What would Joanna do? He's trying to make something more of himself by opening himself to new experiences. Which sometimes leads to a situation where the cop brother of a young woman distrusts the Irish kid.

Okay, landing now and turbulence. Fun.