2025 is almost here, dammit...

In just over an hour, it will be. I'm not going to say it will be better than 2024 because it's already shaping up to be a complete catastrophe. So I'm going to ride on my own coattails, for a bit and pound myself on the back for having finished writing A Place of Safety...and publishing it, in full this year.

I honestly thought I wouldn't make it. I was having too much trouble with Home Not Home. But once I cut out the melodramatic shit and let it finish like a human story instead of a big, brash meaningful one worthy of a sophomore English Lit student, it fell together.

That means I actually did achieve something major, in 2024, and I am fucking proud of that. I don't have anything else I can point to of the same caliber, but it doesn't matter. Brendan's story is now out there and available. And we can relax.

Going over my receipts, I found I'd poured nearly $8000 into getting it all done and publicized and seen and promoted...and apparently that was money misapplied. Because it's barely sold anything. Now? I'm trying to do what I can that won't cost much. I'll check with some libraries to see if they'd like a set to add to their card catalogue. I know a few librarians so that might get some traction. Just means getting copies to send them.

 I can also check some local book stores to see if they'll take them on consignment. Local author kind of thing. It hurts that the full set is nearly $100, and very few people will drop that much on an unknown writer. I'm aiming to put the paperback out in late May or early June, which might help. But it'll take me till then to get the costs pulled together...and to get professional covers.

I thought I'd get The Beast Dines Out completed by the end of the year, but it did some things that will take a couple more parts to finish...so that's fine. I'm posting it for free on GayDemon, which means low-priority once I figure out what next to do.

Arrested is still percolating.

End of year paperwork...

Today started with updating paperwork for A Place of Safety-Home Not Home, on Bowker, the company that issues ISBNs for books and such...and realizing I'd made a major blunder. When I set the ebook up on Smashwords, I input the wrong ISBN. It was correct on the text, just not in Smashwords' file. So I had to take the wrong one down and re-submit everything correctly; they won't let you update the ISBN, itself.

That's an embarrassment.

I also was having trouble with the DVD player I'd bought from Amazon. If a movie was over 105 minutes, it would suddenly start claiming it was skipping over damaged areas and get into a weird whirling situation where I couldn't even eject the disk. I'd have to unplug it then plug it back in. It's done this a couple other times, and last night was the final straw.

I was watching The Man Who Came to Dinner, with Bette Davis, and as it was getting to the finale, bam. Damaged!! Can't let you watch that! So I jaunted over to Best Buy, got a new one and played the final sections of the movie...and not one problem.

I'm not buying anything from Amazon, again. That thing supposedly had a 2 year warranty but try and find out through Amazon how to handle it. I posted a negative review and will junk the damn thing. This new one cost twice as much but it's better if I don't have to deal with electronic bullshit.

I grabbed the makings for avocado toast, while I was out. Wegman's guacamole, tomatoes, and real sourdough bread. Made it this evening...and damn, it was good.

With Arrested, I guess the next step is to see about turning it into a book. I'll need to do a fair amount of research to make certain I'm handling the misdemeanor trial and arrests and really everything correctly. But it's nudging at me and the book I thought I'd return to, Dair's Window, is remaining silent.

God only knows what's going to happen, next.

The last of Arrested...

New characters. Forgot to do this, last post. And I'm changing Simon's last name to Halliwell.

10. Dominque Lambert, 34 a. ACLU Lawyer b. Pretty and self-assured c. Involved with Walstead, on the sly 

11. DeShawn Green, 46 a. Attorney with Kaplan, Halliwell and Green b. Stocky and neatly dressed c. Married, three girls, seven grandkids. 

12. Collier Allendale, 74 a. Superior Court judge. b. Tall and stately c. Married, two children, two grandchildren, one great-grandchild

And this last bit is the end of it. Not sure what it's about, yet...but getting there.

DeShawn Green was in the gallery when it all went down. Caught a look between Lambert and Walstead that wasn’t right. Asks his wife if she knows anything about Lambert. “Thinks she’s whiter than white.” “She’s ACLU.” “Since when?”

Green meets with Simon, in jail. Depression is getting to him. Finally tells him about changes Walstead made to the arrest report. “You didn’t trust Lambert. Why?” “Didn’t dis-trust her. Just didn’t tell her everything. Never tell anyone everything.” Green takes over the case.

Green gets Simon released on bail due to questions about falsified evidence having been presented. Before Judge Allendale in Superior Court. Walstead pissy, claims didn't know about evidence, but overruled. 

Simon’s car was impounded from parking lot then auctioned off. Things shoved in storage. Phone screen shattered but workable. Laptop dead. Credit cards canceled for non-payment, debit card missing. Cash in wallet gone. Green says he will get him reimbursement, contact everyone. “Why bother?” 

Simon set up in hotel, overnight; provided bus ticket home on Baron’s and Greyhound for next day. “Do I have a home?” Calls landlord and told they want him out, ASAP. Were told he’s a child molester by cops. 

Simon spends the night in the tub, heating the water over and over, close to breaking the razor Green bought him and using the blade to slice up his arms. But doesn’t because he refuses to give Walstead the satisfaction. 

Turns out, Simon contacted the state bar about Walstead’s trick with presenting PhD as Doctor. Asked if it was acceptable practice or a violation of ethics. Had shrugged it off; news reports about courtroom situation makes them now taking a closer look.

Harver learns about it and puts Walstead on suspension till figured out. Manville, too. She is livid. Quits. Contacts Green to help. Refused. 

Walstead meets with Paley, Garrison and Corelli. They’re being investigated by Internal Affairs. Pissed at Walstead for not stopping it, but it looks like he suborned perjury and is fighting for his own career. Massive argument and finger-pointing. Paley says, “We’ll handle this.” Walstead says nothing, in answer. 

Bus station three blocks from hotel. Simon walking to it when stopped by Garrison and Corelli. Handcuffed and forced into their patrol car then head off. Simon hits emergency button on phone. 911 operator comes on and he loudly asks why they arrested him, and where they’re going. Wrong direction for jail. ID’s both of them. Heading out of town. 

Mention Paley wants to talk to him about situation. Wants him to say he did approach the man. That’ll make the IA investigation go away, for them. Simon claims the man plans to kill him and they will be just as responsible. They shrug him off, saying, “That’d be stupid.” 

911 operator calls in Chief of Police and Harver. GPS on car deactivated. Start sending cars to intersect with patrol car, using Simon’s phone but cuts in and out. Harver wary of getting carried away. Might be a joke. Call the car and see. About to when Allendale appears. Heard from Green that Simon was taken and CoP down here. CoP calls in chopper to find patrol car. 

Garrison and Corelli turn off main thoroughfare onto dirt road leading into woods. Simon keeps querying them. Corelli finally realizes his phone is on, grabs it and cuts it off. Wants to turn around. Too late; here’s Paley. 

Paley tells Simon to get out of car. “Just want you to sign a statement that you did approach me.” He won’t. Has wrapped a rear-seatbelt around his arm. Paley tries to drag him out but is blocked by it. Argue. 

Garrison enters from other side and tries to unravel seatbelt from Simon’s arm. Too much fighting, so Paley pulls gun. Corelli tells him to stop. Helicopter heard passing overhead. 

Cruiser radio crackles, demanding Garrison or Corelli to check in. Paley grips Simon by the throat to keep him quiet as Garrison responds they are on other side of town, but Simon kicks Paley and howls, “He’s lying!” Knocks him back. 

Paley shoots Simon in chest and face. Corelli shoots Paley in shoulder. Sirens heard approaching. Cops finally roar up. Corelli drops pistol and hands up. Garrison slowly exits car, hands up. 

Simon wakes in hospital. Blind in one eye. Internal damage. In pain when he breathes. Lucky to be alive. Tells state police and State's AG everything. Very shaky and much older-seeming. Landlord still wants Simon out but can take an extra month.

Green comes to tell him all hell’s torn loose. Paley’s paralyzed in one arm. He, Corelli and Garrison charged with kidnapping, assault and attempted murder. Found two graves in the woods so investigation widening.

Walstead and Lambert are being disbarred, Manville got a disciplinary letter added to her file. Denton retiring from bench. Harver remaining as DA, but Feds coming in to investigate. ACLU shaken; Lambert was a recent hire. National news, for days. He’d been unconscious for a week, but...“Looks like you’ve won your case.” 

Simon shakes his head. “You call this winning?”

Even more of Arrested...

It's feeling a bit sluggish, here. Part of the reason I used this shot from 12 Angry Men. All talk but damn, it moved well. I'd need to replicate that.

Simon is staying overnight in Columbus, to speak with ACLU, first thing in the morning, as well as State’s Attorney General. ACLU hears of search for Simon so Dominique Lambert, one of their lawyers, offers to go with him back to Barrington. 

Simon arrested, charged, held with high bail. Done before Denton, Walstead handling for prosecution, Lambert at Simon’s side. Simon explodes, calls the accusations falsified, wasn’t even in town...but has no alibi. 

Simon loses it, berates Denton and says he saw the little dance between him and Walstead, suggesting they're gay lovers working together. “A blind gay man would have seen it.” Shakes up everyone. Both men deny it, but Simon is convincing. Some lawyers in the gallery hear it, to Walstead’s and Denton’s discomfort. Simon is dragged away, cursing them. 

Simon in county jail. Word spreads he raped a kid but he deflects by telling them he’s there because he said he knew about Denton and Walstead fucking each other. Backed up by an inmate whose attorney told him trial continued due to uproar in Denton’s courtroom. Simon tells jail officials he needs medication for his heart, but ignored. 

Lambert meets with Simon. Told of medication withheld and threats against himself. Told police found arrest report claiming he was once accused of molesting an underage boy in San Antonio. “I have never been arrested.” Shows it to him; he points out errors – Arrest in 1979 on form published in 1983, neat fingerprints when back then would be messy due to ink rolled on fingers. She says she'll look into it. 

Simon works out a safe space for himself in jail by swapping chicken in dinners for other guys’ veggies. “Can’t eat it; makes me sick.” He also starts reading books aloud. “Like books on tape.” Wants the practice. Enough inmates gather around and he becomes known as Pops, due to age. Even guards appreciate him. 

Walstead visits Simon to discuss new deal. “Where’s my lawyer?” “In Columbus. You’re still listed as co-representative, so we're not required to inform her.” Simon refuses deal. Manville notes he’s lost weight and shaking. No meds. “You need to tell them.” “I have and told Lambert.” She says, “I’ll see what I can do.” She gets it handled. 

Lambert takes full control of defense. Comes down to talk. Looks bad. What about mistakes on report? They explained them away. Adam asks about verifying the arrest and aftermath. Can’t. Happened in San Antonio and records destroyed in Bexar County Courthouse Annex fire. How’d they get police report? Filed away in department basement and only recently found. 

Trial finally comes up. Jury trial; 8 members. Evidence entered. Paley testifies. Lambert drills into him but unshaken. Simon decides to testify. Calls the accusations lies. Walstead goes after him. Simon asks to see the evidence entered. Walstead brings arrest report to him, very arrogant.

Simon reads it, aloud, into the record. Quietly notices the date of the form’s origination is changed and the fingerprints are smudged-looking. Looks at Lambert. Her expression is deliberately cool.

Simon points out the address of the arrest is wrong. That the building had been torn down to make way for a parking garage during the date of the arrest. Why didn’t you say so when Lambert showed it to you? “I’ve never seen this piece of paper before.”

Uproar. Walstead, Manville, Lambert, and Denton meet in chambers. Paley in gallery, glaring at Simon, who glares right back. Mistrial declared due to Simon’s claim. Jury tainted.

Simon meets with Lambert. “Why didn’t you tell me about this when I showed it to you?” “You never showed me this report.” They argue and she quits him. He lets her, and is taken back to jail.

Third part of Arrested...

It keeps going and growing. I have no idea how this will turn out...if I'll write it or set it aside to percolate.

Walstead talks to Paley and Garrison, Corelli to one side. Garrison thinks he might have mixed up days. Paley shuts that down and Walstead lets him. Still have Corelli to testify and can make out like security video doesn’t always catch outside movement. 3 against 1. Walstead agrees because of repercussions if they don’t win case, outright.

Simon talks to ACLU office in Columbus. Needs help. Not really interested in simple public indecency case. More focused on death penalty case and laws controlling women in the state. Get a lawyer. Show them everything. Simon tried but no one believes him. Speaks to Barrington Legal Assistance to get one. Not impressed with the kid they hand him over to. Decides to stay with himself representing himself. 

Simon returns to Barrington and seeks court order to get duty log from that night and arrest report. Police refuse; should have done this before the trial started. Tied up in arguments. Judge rules to provide info requested. Chief of Police orders appeal.

Simon returns to his apartment in Buffalo. Small. Cheap. Highrise. Rent being increased. Landlord curious about absences. Simon deflects. Checks bank account. Little money left. Some in savings. 

Day comes for continuing trial. Still no documents from police. Ask for continuance? No guarantees. Decides to let trial proceed.

Walstead has Garrison restate events then brings out findings from experts that it’s possible no reflection would be seen on the security video. Simon makes a big deal out of no body or dash cam, but can do nothing more. 

Corelli comes up and Simon chuckles to himself. Denton wants to know why; Simon forced to explain Corelli reminds him of a man he was involved with decades ago. Attracted to him but used. Finds it funny his surrogate is going to finally wreck his life. 

Corelli testifies, same information as Garrison. Simon does the same questioning, but this time points out the video shows his reflection in the window frames when he turns left to walk away from Paley, and how Paley followed him, then a minute later took him back to his car. Trial stops.

Walstead wants another continuance to check into whether reflections really happen.. Simon argues against it. Continued till tomorrow. Walstead unhappy but told to check with store that night.

Paley, Garrison and Corelli pissed off at Walstead for delay. Walstead fires back, “You three lied under oath. That’s perjury. I’m obligated to inform the judge of my suspicions.” Paley backs down and claims he arrested Simon because he thought he was a man accused of molesting 13 year-old boy. Now he’s trying to cover his ass. Walstead holds off on threat.

Walstead talks to Harver. They look up the case and find the description of the molester is vague enough to be Simon. Melville points out no evidence Simon was in town that day and description vague. Walstead goes with the better safe than sorry bit and Harver agrees. They know Simon is gay and might have molested other boys. Get a judge to order warrant for his arrest at hotel.

Near 11pm. Cops swarm into hotel room, find him gone. He’s still listed as a guest, slated to check out in the morning. Where is he? Did someone tip him off? Put out APB.

Arrested is growing...

I'm halfway wondering if I should change the title to Just a Misdemeanor? Seems a bit weak, but Arrested isn't much better. Anyway, I've added characters, and below them is more of the outline.

8. George Galavan, 38 a. Cop for Barrington b. About to become sergeant c. Married, three kids 

9. Angelo Corelli, 26 a. Cop for Barrington b. Good-looking and upright-seeming c. Single 

Simon drills into Paley. Points out he has copy of the store’s security tape showing he had zero interest in the man. But the incident happened outside, under that bright street lamp. Simon gets Paley to say he saw Simon’s penis and noticed nothing unusual about it. Simon has photos showing he has a birthmark on his penis. 

Walstead requests a third party examine Simon to verify for the transcript. Simon argues against it but Denton agrees with Walstead. Dr. Elon Astride is in the building so agrees to do it. Simon learns Astride is not a physician but a PhD in Jurisprudence.

Simon is angry, but given a choice of Astride to do the exam or getting a continuance to call in a physician, and will cost him up to $5000. He lets Astride see his genitals in the judge’s chambers. Birthmark there and noticeable. “Looks like the state of Delaware.” 

Astride testifies Paley might not have seen the birthmark; the brightness of the streetlamp probably washed it out. Simon asks him if the committee that bestowed his doctorate on him knows he uses it to help put men in prison. Causes an uproar. Aristide furious. 

Walstead has two cops lined up to testify on Paley’s behalf, so break for lunch. Walstead and Manville try to get Simon to agree to an even better deal – No jail time, small fine, wiped out after 2 years. He still refuses. Walstead grows low-key threatening, but Simon just walks away. 

Walstead talks to his boss, Harver. Concerned about the way case is going. Not merely raising reasonable doubt but possibility of false arrest and perjury. Could give Simon cause to sue city. “Go all the way to the end. Leave it in Denton’s hands. If he finds the guy guilty, that’ll give us cover.” “He will, It’s 3 cops against 1 civilian.” Manville is uncertain they should continue, but Walstead shrugs her concerns off. 

Simon is seated by the courtroom entrance, on his laptop. Walstead goes to him to make one last pitch, but Simon says to go away. Walstead won’t. Emphasizes he’s going to be found guilty and the punishment will be worse. Simon accuses Walstead of knowing Paley is lying and doing all he can to help him get away with it. They argue and security comes over. Simon becomes cold and in complete control. 

Time for the trial to resume. Office Galavan testifies that he and partner, Angelo Corelli, were in patrol car stopped at intersection, diagonal to store. He was rebooting on-board computer system. No lights on. No body or dash cam, both aligned with computer system. Saw Simon approach Paley, the altercation so drove across to back Paley up. Not needed. Drove on. 

Simon has him describe patrol car; really an SUV, black with white roof, doors and hood. No flashers on. Stopped in the street. Dangerous. Drove across three lanes of traffic and facing oncoming cars. “Late so no traffic,” Galavan replies. “Still, it’s a major thoroughfare, isn’t it?” 

Galavan acknowledges he knows of shop’s security cameras. Would they back up his version of events? All inside, none outside. “Let’s see,” says Simon. 

Walstead objects. Denton has Simon explain why showing tape important. Wall of shop fronting street has line of narrow windows at top, with metal frames. Show reflection of cars’ headlights and taillights when passing, Also reflection of white roof. And brake lights. None of that on tape. 

Walstead asks for continuance to check into it. Simon argues against it. “I live over 300 miles away. Day trip here, day for trial, day trip home. Expensive and time-consuming. Can show video.” Possibly manipulated. “Compare it to your copy,” Simon snaps. Denton agrees to continuance of 2 weeks; Simon asks for 6 weeks but rejected.

More of Arrested...

This is some of what I've outlined for Arrested:

Events:

Simon goes to Barrington, Ohio to curate library for friend, as a favor. Checks into his hotel and goes to a nearby store for groceries. Near midnight on a Monday. 

Paley follows Simon around the store, seems to want him to notice him, but Simon ignores him. Paley exits. Simon reads magazines for a while, nervous about Paley, but has to leave when store is closing. 

Paley is outside, standing under a streetlamp smoking and on his phone. He accuses Simon of coming onto him and exposing himself within 600 feet of a school. 

Simon is booked and arraigned the next day. Pleads not guilty. Bailed for $2500 because he’s from out of state. Simon loses the job because he didn’t show up. Client was prickly, to begin with. Friend pissed at him. 

Simon meets with a couple of attorneys who say they will bargain for a great plea deal; don’t believe him when he claims innocence but will still do their best. Simon rejects them; will defend self. 

Simon gets the store security surveillance tape after having to pay the owner to do it. Shows Paley‘s and Simon’s actions, but not 100% on what Simon claims Paley was doing. No outside camera. 

Case assigned to Walstead, meets with Simon. Offers okay deal but Simon rejects it. “I’ve done nothing wrong or illegal, and I’m not going to say I did just to make your job easier.” Asks if they’ve seen the store security video. Manville tells him it’s all indoors and the incident was outside the store. 

Also, accusation is enhanced because was within 600 feet of a school. Doesn’t matter it was midnight. And two passing cops saw the whole thing and back up Paley. Simon tells them no one else was around. They suggest he’s lying. But still no deal. 

Case goes before Denton, who decides it will be a bench trial. Simon wants a jury trial but told had to apply for it in advance, so would need to reschedule. Simon points out he lives nearly 300 miles away. “Not our problem.” Simon grumbles but agrees to move forward.

Trial starts. Paley testifies Simon followed him around the store and then approached him, outside. Mentions the enhancement on the case due to nearby school. Simon proves no school within 600 feet. Used to be, but the school’s at a new campus and the building sold to convert into apartments, a year ago.

Walstead taken by surprise, but agrees to have enhancement removed. Simon asks, “Can you do that?” Denton shrugs him off with, “It’s just a misdemeanor."

Knock, knock...

Except I'm lying. Seems no matter how many times I tell myself I don't care, or what language I use, I still let myself get caught.

I had a story come calling, today, currently called Arrested. Something simple and straightforward, about the arrest of a man for public indecency that spirals out of control when he refuses to take a deal and the case goes to trial.

Except it can't be that simple. Oh, no.

ARRESTED

Location: Barrington Township, Ohio Fictional town near Columbus

Characters: 1. Simon Delevan, 67 a. Gay b. Archivist c. Semi-retired d. Lives in Buffalo, NY

2. Frank Paley, 30 a. Cop for Barrington Township b. Powerbuilder c. Straight, he says 

3. Brian Walstead, 32 a. Assistant District Attorney b. Very good-looking c. Divorced 

4. Elissa Manville, 30 a. Walstead’s second chair b. Rubenesque but pretty c. Boyfriend not very attentive 

5. Judge Oliver Denton, 49 a. Municipal Court b. Distinguished but right wing c. Married, 5 daughters, three grandchildren 

6. Dr. Elon Aristide, 36 a. PhD in Jurisprudence b. Attractive and well-dressed. c. Married, 2 sons and a daughter

7. Raymond Harver, 54 a. District Attorney b. Self-satisfied about self c. Married twice, son and daughter from first marriage don’t speak to him.

I've worked out a rough outline of the story to about the halfway point, and it's getting into territory I know little about. How a trial for a misdemeanor works and what an ADA would actually do. I mean, if the case is just a misdemeanor and questions are reaised about the legitimacy of the arrest, would they still press on to the end? Or withdraw the charges? 

Or would other aspects factor in? Like the possibility the defendant would file a claim with the city for false arrest, imprisonment and prosecution? Would a guilty verdict in the trial mitigate that? Would this be something the ACLU would get involved with?

Damn...am I getting myself into another PIA situation? Because I have no idea how far this is going to go.

It's a White Christmas...

I just took this photo. You can't really tell, but it's still snowing. 

So...last night, I wound up watching The King's Speech, again. I guess to remind myself that it's possible to overcome problems if you really focus on them and work hard and don't let the turkeys get you down. Yeah, right. Very Pollyanna.

Okay, now that the saccharine is out of my system, I can say I am way out of my depth when it comes to launching a book. And probably too late, according to their plan. I should have started everything prior to even beginning the writing.

Well...I guess trying to get an agent interested in repping A Place of Safety to a mainstream publisher was a way of doing that. Sort of. Even though it did crash and burn. And they say editorial reviews...like from Kirkus and BookLife...are important, which I have.

But...I should have my own website, preferably with the ability to buy directly from me...as well as a lengthy list of people to email when I have a new book or special promotion going on. Got neither.

Of course, the biggest issue with this outline is, they are very Amazon-centric...and I am not. I don't trust Amazon. I know too many authors online who've been fucked over by them. One recently had all her KU ebooks removed because some asshole pirated the book and set it up though another group. KU demands exclusivity.

Which is a big no fucking way to me...because they don't listen when you tell them that there's been a mistake. I went through that with them, more than once back when I was still getting going with my self-publishing. Hell, even before.

The first time How to Rape a Straight Guy got banned was when it was with a publisher, and the cowards wouldn't fight for it. I had to, and I got Amazon to back down...but it took weeks. I'm neither a masochist nor interested in an abusive relationship with a two-trillion-dollar company.

Anyway, what it boils down to is learning a new approach to publicizing my books or finding someone I can afford who will do so, for me. And I think the latter would be far better, overall.

Anybody got a couple thousand bucks lying around that they don't need?

Studenting...

I'm putting my ego aside and reading a guide I bought from Bestseller Launch, on how to position your book for great sales...or something. Most of it seems geared to non-fiction books -- how to find inner peace of build a great business kind of stuff -- but there is a section for doing fiction works, with a special emphasis on building a good blurb for the story.

It also emphasizes having a great cover and suggests getting someone professional to do it. I'm not bad when it comes to my covers, but I still go hit and miss, and it seems the fronts of New World For Old and Home Not Home aren't hitting the mark with readers. I like them and especially the progression from innocence to brutal knowledge in the photos representing Brendan. But that could be a part of my ego in the way of objectivity.

I may investigate the cost of that for the paperback versions of the books. See what a third party comes up with. I also may just plain not be able to afford it.

My eyes are crossed. I'm gonna sit in bed and watch a movie...maybe Sense and Sensibility...or Miracle on 34th Street, the 1947 version. The two remakes were ridiculous.

I think I'm nuts...

Well...just rocking along with The Beast Dines Out and you never know what's going to happen, next. Dirc found out the Beast has been trying to replicate the effect he has on his victims, which is what makes them suitable for use. There's a moment when 5 earlier clones of Dirc come out and he's a bit weirded out.

But he also finds out what it truly means when you tell someone to go fuck yourself. He's also taken a step back to being human by promising to protect The Kid guard, whose name is Cliff Mason. I guess we'll see what happens with them.

It's now up to 12,650 words. The first book, The Beast, is 15,450 words, total. Seems this one is dragging me deeper into Dirc's psyche and the madness of his world.

I'm getting good reaction on Gay Demon. Ratings from 9.5-9.8 and hundreds of readers. Makes me feel good about the story, so far. We'll see how things go in the one I just uploaded.

Sales are good with Smashwords' end of year sale. Focus is mainly on The Lyons' Den, The Vanishing of Owen Taylor and Porno Manifesto...three I really wanted to get out there to be read. I don't think anyone's reading them, straightaway. They're just grabbing them at special prices, from free to 1/2 off. But eventually they might and then give me reviews. Maybe.

Today was a snow day, strong moments of the white stuff then moments of sun and sky. 19 degrees but feels like 7. Ain't no way I'm going out in that if I don't have to. And I don't. And tomorrow is supposed to be more of the same.

Writing a freebie can be ludicrous...

...If you let it be. While waiting for the proof of APoS-HNH, I got back to working on The Beast Dines Out and let it go wherever it wanted to. Which is a pretty bizarre place. And it's rather unsettling that I'm writing this piece, yet also liberating.

As already noted, the Beast makes a clone of Dirc to have the cops searching for him find and think he's back in custody. It's done in a way for him to be comatose, so there's no concern or question about him. 

What's crazy is, When Dirc sees the clone, both he and it are naked, and he compares himself to himself. Even asks the Beast if he can get the clone to be erect so he can see what his dick looks like from a different perspective.

The prurient aspect of him was left out of the clone because it would take too long to bland in. It's a body with all the organs working but no thoughts or voice.

So it dresses itself and gets beaten up by the Beast's spacecraft before being dropped into the aqueduct near the overturned bus. Where the search party locates it and rushes it off to a hospital

This bit wound up being 2200 words long. The whole thing is now over 10,400 words, and I'm maybe halfway through...and it's shifting from black comedy to absurdist theater. Even the non-consensual gay sex in it is on the crazy side.

I wonder what that says about me?

APoS-HNH is almost completely done!!!

I finally got my review from booklife and plugged some of it onto the back of the dust jacket...then uploaded everything to Ingram to start making it available in hardcover. My hope is to have it available for purchase through Amazon, B&N and BAM! by the end of the year.

Here's the review:

"Sullivan concludes his A Place of Safety trilogy (after New World for Old) by transforming Brendan Kinsella into Jeremy Landau, a Texan researcher of Jewish heritage. It’s 1981, and Brendan’s mission is to return to his native Ireland, virtually incognito as Jeremy—who is there to draw parallels between the Irish hunger strikes and the Israeli and Palestinian clashes. With his southern drawl, close-cropped hair, and NASA baseball cap, he is nearly unrecognizable, even to his closest friends.

The journey—prompted by his mother’s impending death—draws him back to a country that never truly let him go. But Sullivan makes it clear that Ireland hasn’t forgotten Brendan. Both the IRA and British intelligence have him firmly on their radar, each vying to extract information about the bombers behind a years-ago tragedy that claimed the love of his life, Joanna. Even as Brendan navigates a tense web of intrigue, the alphabet organizations—like the PIRA, OIRA, UDF, UVF, and RUC—scrutinize his every move, turning each checkpoint into a gauntlet of suspicion, revenge, and betrayal, while Sullivan resurrects Brendan’s past with an eerie twist: Joanna may still be alive.

Haunted by this revelation, Brendan embarks on a perilous quest to save his family and piece together the truth about his parents, uncovering recordings that provide startling insight into their lives and motives along the way. His pursuit is as much about understanding his own identity as it is about uncovering hidden truths and enduring tortured interrogations. Sullivan intricately weaves trauma, history, and espionage into a narrative that demands careful attention. The backstory, richly detailed and emotionally charged, requires patience to fully absorb, especially for readers unfamiliar with the earlier books in the trilogy. For the most rewarding experience, starting with the first series offering will deliver the clarity and depth needed to appreciate the full scope of this complex saga.

Takeaway: Emotionally charged intertwining of trauma, love, and acceptance."

I can live with this...

Even nothing stories need to make sense...

Working on The Beast Dines Out and I just chucked everything I did for Chapter Four. It was silly and self-indulgent, and went nowhere. I had the Beast proving to Warren...no, I'm referring to him as Dirc, from now on. It was proving how completely in control of him it was...when that's been obvious from the beginning of this story. Why would it need to prove anything?

After grumping around for half the day and making myself go out in the middle of a snowstorm to drop my last Christmas card in the mail...and get brownie mix because I really, really wanted brownies, tonight...I figured out the real issue is, if Dirc is to work with the Beast something has to be done about him being a fugitive. He's slated for execution so he'll be on the FBI's most wanted list, and considering his notoriety for being a massively prolific serial killer, his face is known by everyone.

Unless he's dead or in custody. So the Beast is going to make a clone of him and dump it back at the scene of the bus wreck. That gets found. Maybe in a coma. Maybe dead. Word gets out and around, change his hair or grow a beard, and he's safe to help set up the intergalactic truck stop.

He's being paid in gold nuggets, which he needs to explain. They're very prevalent in the universe. So I remembered Call of the Wild and how crazy it got when hundreds of thousands of men and women set out for the Yukon to hunt for gold. Meaning...start up a new gold rush and let the meat come to you.

That's a pretty callous way of approaching this story, I have to admit, and it makes me more than a little antsy. The humanist in me points out the lives and futures lost, innocent men killed and fed to aliens...but I think of the incoming administration and the direction America is hurtling down, and it's seeming more and more like I'm just referencing a form of reality in this country.

I just don't understand America, anymore, and I'm hoping this story...and more of Blood Angel...can help me sort things out. Or let off some anger and confusion. Because apparently denying healthcare to people in order to maximize profits...which often kills them...is considered business as usual while someone fighting back against it by killing the head of one of the worst perpetrators of it is terrorism.

And FWIW, I wound up making the world's worst brownies, this evening. Burned on the bottom; center not cooked. Master chef, I am not; foul mood, I am in.

This is truth...

 And I have nothing to add...

...except I needed to escape from it all, today...and still do...

God dammit, I hate people.

Arthur Penn Speaks...

I was sent this by a couple of friends so thought I'd share:

"I do not want to know another thing about what a nice guy or gal someone on the stage is: This is entirely irrelevant to me. Some sort of desperation has crept into our theatre--all of our arts, really, but we're discussing theatre--where we feel a defensive wall is erected around the meretriciousness of our work by highlighting how hard someone has worked; how many hours they've put in at the soup kitchen; how many hours they spent researching the aphasic mind in order to replicate the actions of one; how many ribbons sweep across their breast in support of causes; how much they love their lives and how lucky they feel to be on Broadway!

There is very little art, but there is a great deal of boosterism. Fill the seats; buy a T-shirt; post something on the Internet; send out an e-mail blast.

I'm in my eighties, and I think I should have left this earth never knowing what an e-mail blast was.

I saw a play recently that was festooned with understudies: Not the actual understudies, but the hired, primary actors, all of whom performed (if that is the word) precisely like a competent, frightened understudy who got a call at dinner and who raced down to take over a role. No depth; no sense of preparation. These were actors who had learned their lines and who had showed up. And that is all.

I spoke to the director afterwards. By all accounts a nice and talented and smart guy. I asked him why a particular part in this play--a Group Theatre classic--had been given to this certain actor. He's a great guy, was the response. Prince of a fellow. Well, perhaps, but send him home to be a prince to his wife and children; he is a shattering mediocrity. But nice and easy counts far too much these days. Another director told me--proudly--that he had just completed his third play in which there wasn't one difficult player; not one distraction; not one argument. Can I add that these were among the most boring plays of our time? They were like finely buffed episodes of Philco Playhouse: tidy, neat, pre-digested, and forgotten almost immediately, save for the rage I felt at another missed opportunity.

All great work comes to us through various forms of friction. I like this friction; I thrive on it. I keep hearing that Kim Stanley was difficult. Yes, she was: in the best sense of the word. She questioned everything; nailed everything down; got answers; motivated everyone to work at her demonically high standard. Everyone improved, as did the project on which she was working, whether it was a scene in class, a TV project, a film, or a play. Is that difficult? Bring more of them on.

Is Dustin Hoffman difficult? You bet. He wants it right; he wants everything right, and that means you and that means me. I find it exhilarating, but in our current culture, they would prefer someone who arrived on time, shared pictures of the family, hugged everyone and reminded them of how blessed he is to be in a play, and who does whatever the director asks of him.

Is Warren Beatty difficult? Only if you're mediocre or lazy. If you work hard and well, he's got your back, your front, and your future well in hand. He gets things right--for everybody.

No friction. No interest. No play. No film. It's very depressing.

I don't want to know about your process. I want to see the results of it. I'll gladly help an actor replicate and preserve and share whatever results from all the work that has been done on a part, but I don't want to hear about it. I've worked with actors who read a play a couple of times and fully understood their characters and gave hundreds of brilliant performances. I don't know how they reached that high level of acting, and I don't care. My job is to provide a safe environment, to hold you to the high standards that have been set by the playwright, the other actors, and by me. I hold it all together, but I don't need to know that your second-act scene is so true because you drew upon the death of your beloved aunt or the time your father burned your favorite doll.

Now the process is public, and actors want acclimation for the work they've put into the work that doesn't work. Is this insane? Read the newspapers, and there is an actor talking about his intentions with a part. I've pulled strands of O'Neill into this character, and I'm looking at certain paintings and photographs to gain a certain texture. And then you go to the theatre and see the performance of a frightened understudy. But a great gal or guy. Sweet. Loves the theatre.

Every year or so, I tell myself I'm going to stop going to see plays. It's just too depressing. But I remember how much I love what theatre can be and what theatre was, and I go back, an old addict, an old whore who wants to get the spark going again.

I don't think we can get the spark going again because the people working in the theatre today never saw the spark, so they can't get it going or keep it going if it walked right up to them and asked for a seat.

It's a job, a career step, a rehabilitation for a failed TV star or aging film star. I got a call from one of these actresses, seeking coaching. I need my cred back, she said. This is not what the theatre is supposed to be, but it is what the theatre now is.

I don't want to just shit on the theatre: It's bad everywhere, because it's all business, real-estate space with actors. It's no longer something vital. I used to think that the theatre was like a good newspaper: It provided a service; people wanted and needed it; revenue was provided by advertisers who bought space if the paper delivered, but profit was not the motive--the motive was the dissemination of truth and news and humor. Who goes to the theatre at all now? I think those in the theatre go because it's an occupational requirement: They want to keep an eye on what the other guys are going, and they want to rubberneck backstage with those who might use them in the future. But who are the audiences? They want relief not enlightenment. They want ease. This is fatal.

I talk to Sidney Lumet. I talk to Mike Nichols. I ask them if I'm the crazy old man who hates everything. You might be, they say, but you're not wrong. They have the same feelings, but they work them out or work around them in different ways.

The primary challenges of the theatre should not always be getting people to give a shit about it. The primary challenge should be to produce plays that reach out to people and change their lives. Theatre is not an event, like a hayride or a junior prom--it's an artistic, emotional experience in which people who have privately worked out their stories share them with a group of people who are, without their knowledge, their friends, their peers, their equals, their partners on a remarkable ride."

~~ director ARTHUR PENN

He died 14 years ago...and it hasn't gotten any better. 

Blogger's being ridiculous...

My previous post is blocked behind a warning of inappropriate content and I have absolutely no idea why. There is no nudity. No more cursing than usual. No threats of violence or attacks on anyone. I can find no reason in any of their so-called community standards to put that label on it and kill its viewing. But there is it.

And I cannot appeal it. I have access to a dozen different ways to report a problem that is a violation, but nothing to ask for a review. I guess when you're using a platform that is, in effect, free...you have to put up with their stupidity.

I did more writing on The Beast Dines Out. It's at 5500 words and I'm not even 25% done. It's flowing out of me, so I'm loathe to stop it.

What seems to be building here is just another capitalistic venture on the part of Warren and his Extraterrestrial buddy. Or partner. Not sure which, yet.

I do know Warren's getting paid in raw stones or gold or something mineral. I doubt aliens use American Express...though I suppose it's not an impossible thing to consider. I wonder if they'd sponsor me...

I don't want this to seem like a ripoff of The Little Shop of Horrors. It's got a similar approach to the horror and bloodshed...jokey and dark...but mine's coupled with the beginning of a franchise operation that might help take care of overpopulation. There's also the original The Hills Have Eyes and the nearly goofy attitude the family has to their victims; gotta be careful I don't get weird.

So...I'm back to writing...

The Beast Dines Out...

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Am I crazy?

John Wayne Gacy raped and murdered 33 young men and boys like this. That we know of. He was found guilty and executed for it 30 years ago. I remember reading about it at the time, it being just a few years after Elmer Wayne Henley and Dean Corll had been revealed as having raped and murdered 27 boys in Houston. Soon after came William Bonin and Randy Kraft, and then things seemed to calm down.

I'm completely, totally, and absolutely anti-death penalty. I'll joke about there always being exceptions...usually dealing with right wing scum or dictators like Putin or Xi...but in truth my aversion to it even extends to them. Innocent people have been executed, and I believe it's better to let 99 evil men live than let 1 innocent man be murdered by the state.

Gacy is usually included in the group I joke about there being an exception for...and considering the hideousness of his crimes, it's hard not to give in to the idea that he deserved it. But I also keep in mind that he did not kill all his victims. Some of them he just plain let go. Took them back to where he'd picked them up and gave them his contact information, as if it had just been a sexual encounter and not a kidnapping and sexual assault.

Several went to the cops and were brushed off. One, Jeff Rignall, wrote a book about what happened and testified at Gacy's murder trial, detailing the brutality for the record. What's wild about that is, he was testifying for the defense to try and prove that Gacy was mentally ill. Others also told of their assaults and how the police ignored them...until 15 year-old Robert Piest was kidnapped and killed under circumstances that, in retrospect, seemed like a cry from the man to stop him, it was so stupidly done.

Well...for some reason all day I've been thinking about how Gacy did not kill all of his rape victims. And how, considering rape is very rarely reported by men or women, it's likely the majority of his victims were simply released. And wondering if that might be a way into his story to bring sympathy to him.

Or understanding.

Which is why I wonder if I'm crazy. Considering writing a story that explains a vile, vicious serial killer as just another messed up dude. A guy who lost control of his inner demons. And I'm pretty sure a lot of that stems from seeing just how vile and vicious and depraved human beings have been to each other in just this century.

I'd once read a commentary that back when wars were far more common serial killers went off to battle and satiated their bloodlust with slaughter covered by battle, invasion or genocide. Russians' actions in Ukraine sort of support that idea, considering how barbaric they've been in places like Bucha and the east of Ukraine. Even considering what little I know about WW2 and the fighting between Germans and Russians in Poland and the rest of Eastern Europe...that almost bears it out.

I have no idea where I'm going with this, if anywhere. It's just something that took hold of my brain, today, and makes me a bit nervous...and fascinated...and probably nuts.

Fully accepted...

Smashwords is happy. Their sub groups are happy. I'm happy enough to post HNH as part of Smashwords' End of Year sale at half price. My inner birthday dragon is pleased...

Lots of my books are on sale, though not all. Many are free. Check down my profile page to see which are and which aren't, if you want to buy any. Not all of them are MM erotica.

So now what? Just waiting for the last bit to plug into the back of the dust jacket and I'm antsy. The job in Baltimore turned out not to need me, so that trip's off. All I have set coming up is in Seattle, first week of January. Then I have to be available for Jury Duty the week of the 20th. After that are California's book fairs, which I won't be dealing with.

I could write more...but I'm not really up for that. In any form. Maybe something will hit me; I never know. But right now I'm very much at loose ends. Watch movies? Catch up on my reading? See if I can stop rewriting other writers' sentences and restructuring their stories? That'd be a trick.

I took an online course, today, to verify I qualify for bankruptcy, and I do. I've stopped using the cards, completely, already. Had all my auto-pays shifted to either Paypal or my bank, which doesn't make me comfortable. I'd like to use my new credit card, but won't see that for another week. So even my finances are still in limbo.

I think I may go for a trip to Niagara Falls, the Canadian side. Just to get the hell out of the US. I'm sick to death not only of the GOP but the MAGAts that follow them...who seem to be spreading their infection, like rabies does in animals. I like to think I'm vaccinated against it, but you never know until you get sick.

I had to take the rabies shots when I was about four years-old. A neighbor's dog bit me, and she refused to let it be tested. We were living outside the city limits of San Antonio and Bexar County refused to make her do it, so I got the shots as a precaution. In the stomach. Either 2 or 3 of them, not sure. Just remember screaming my head off a couple of times.

Maybe that's inoculated me against right-wing stupidity.

Home Not Home is officially published...

I got the last notes on HNH early this afternoon so made all the changes, needed, and uploaded it to Smashwords. Meaning it can now be bought in ebook formats. It still has to go through a review to see if a couple of the groups that offer ebooks will accept it in their catalogues, but I'm not worried about them. It has no porn, which is all that seems to freak them out.

I did do a bit of rewriting near the end, when Brendan is being taken to where he thinks Joanna lives. Made it more emotional a journey. I didn't have him describe how nervous and expectant he was; I worked it into him having memories of his walk to Claudy as a boy. And the tenderness of the passing farms as dusk settles in. And then...when the truck he's in stops...how it's an effort for him to do anything but keep looking down the road.

God, I hope I'm not being self-indulgent or ridiculous in my pride over this book. But I am fucking proud. I did something I did not know I could do.

The hardcover is still pending. I'm waiting to see if the review I requested from BookLife will come in so I can post it on the back cover...or learn they didn't like this volume and so use quotes from the two previous reviews by them and Kirkus.

I could have asked Kirkus to review this one, I suppose, but I'm leery of how they work so just...didn't.

Anyway, I've aligned it with Smashwords' end of year sale -- half-price through January 1st. And in the meantime, I'll read up on ways to get notice going for the book. I've already read a couple of articles that had no real information in them, so that won't be easy. It seems everyone wants you to pay for their services before they impart their knowledge, which I understand but don't have the money for.

And at the rate I'm going, never will.

Surprising feedback...

One of my building's office people tried to read The Alice '65 but said the print is too small. Makes her eyes hurt. She's older but not elderly, and does wear glasses...but apparently those didn't help.

I checked it and I did the text in TNR 10 point font, while I've been doing APoS in 11 point, which is a bit easier to read. Of course, the file being used by my editor is Courier 12 point and I've done my own proofing using 14 point blown up to 150 view, to make the errors more obvious. But I'm wondering if I should consider reworking A65 with a larger point size.

Maybe I'll even do the PB editions of APoS in 12 point to make it a clearer read. I doubt many young people will be reading the books...except maybe in ebook, which can be increased in size on the viewer. But this was something I hadn't give a lot of consideration to.

I'd looked at dozens of novels in paperback and hardcover to get an idea of how they were formatted and laid out and such, but I didn't really pay attention to the font size. To me, larger print was like this:

A Place of Safety

-- and for people who were nearing blindness. I'm fortunate in that while I do need glasses for reading or seeing things up close, I'm fine most of the time without them. And making my books into large print just seemed like a lot of time and effort for minimal use. Kind of limiting, that way of thinking.

Oh, well...live and learn...maybe...

Another step taken...

It's begun. I not only qualify for bankruptcy, we've initiated the process. It means wiping out all my credit cards, so I'm getting one through my Credit Union that's secured by a cash deposit. It's limiting, but it gets me back on track and a huge weight off my shoulders. And if I'm careful, I can do just about all my traveling, using it.

That's one step back to being in some kind of control. Next will be publishing APoS-HNH. Got more notes, today, and we're 3/4 of the way through. A couple of moments were not written very well so I did a bit of polishing on them. But overall it's holding up.

Publisher's Weekly isn't going to review Home Not Home, so all I can do is wait for BookLife's review. Should be appearing soon. Put that on the jacket, maybe some quotes for Derry and New World For Old. We'll see what happens.

Fortunately, I'm at the less expensive end of the whole routine. I'll need to buy a physical proof and some copies I promised, but that's it. when I get around to doing the paperbacks, I'll have to buy some ISBNs and those are pricy, but I don't think I'm using images for the covers. Or if I do, I'll work up some simple pen and ink renditions to use in the background. I dunno, yet.

I'm going to dig through all the groups swearing they know how to help you sell millions of copies of your books and see if any make any sense...without it costing me a huge amount. That's always the trick.

I really hate being in this situation, but with the coming uncertainty thanks to the MAGAt scum and Democrats' wishy-washy-ness, I have to plan for the worst.

Bit by bit...

Got more corrections on APoS-HNH and we're now over halfway through. And some of these are really embarrassing. Like misspelling Michael and repeating words. I'm shaking my head at myself.

No movie, tonight. Instead I did preliminary work on taxes to have for tomorrow's meeting. It's kind of a shock to see that I've spent nearly $6000.00 getting A Place of Safety going, this year, and finding out just how little return there has been on it, thus far.

I know I shouldn't care. I'm glad I'm so close to being done with the book, and I do feel I did right by Brendan's story, but it's tipped me into bankruptcy. Maybe. Depends on if I qualify. I may not.

What's really sad about this is, I've got a really good credit rating, and no matter what that's going to vanish. I won't be defaulting on anything till next month.

So while it's wonderful that Brendan's story is now available to read and I can focus on finding ways to get people interested in it...I wish it hadn't come to this. It's fucking depressing. But I'm $38,000 in debt, which is $4000 more than I made, last year, and I can't keep going like this. Especially if the MAGAt scum get their way and start cutting Social Security benefits.

I like to think they're in too much turmoil, themselves, to really get anything done. But that's too much like wishful thinking.

So this is a preemptive strike. Cutting my costs as much as possible and trying to rebuild my savings, in anticipation. Won't be easy, no matter what.

Charlie Chan night...

I have many of the Charlie Chan movies, from the 30s and 40s, and I'm going to go through them all, again. I've seen most several times, each, but still like to watch them. My favorites are Charlie Chan at the Opera, ...in Egypt, ...at the Olympics, and ...in Panama.

Warner Oland was the best one. He was Swedish but had some Mongolian ancestry so had a vaguely Asian aspect to his face. I don't have his first one, Charlie Chan Carries On, nor have I seen it. It's considered lost, but there's a Spanish version, apparently. I need to track it down. See how good my Spanish is...except they used a Spanish actor for Charlie Chan, so it may not really count.

I used to watch these on Saturdays, as a boy at my grandmother's. Black and white console TV in the same ratio so they lost nothing when I finally got them on VHS...then DVD. Sydney Toler was okay as Chan. Just not as warm as Oland. And I didn't like the Roland Winters ones; they were cheesy and done without thought.

There was one version from about 1929 or 1930 where Charlie Chan was a secondary character in San Francisco who helped the white British detective catch a killer before he killed the only witness against him. It was quite violent, but it also had images of San Francisco's streets at that time and was, overall, quite good. But I can't remember the title and my search is coming up blank, so far,.

A lot of today was spent pulling together paperwork and filling in forms for my meeting on Monday with the bankruptcy lawyer. It's a free consultation to see if I really qualify. Who knows how it will turn out.

New site to try...

I was directed to a site I'd never heard of, before -- Book Funnel -- so set up an account and posted The Vanishing of Owen Taylor on there. There's another of Smashwords' sales promotions coming up, on it, and one of the other authors I follow on Facebook is going to put it in her newsletter, with links to that site. May as well give it a go.

Of course, people can also go to my profile page and see which books I've added to the sale and which I haven't. Some will be free. Both of the APoS volumes available will be half price. My gay erotica is $0.99, as always.

I'm realizing there are several places readers can go to for gay erotica...where it's free. They can't own it, but they get to read it. I tried one out with The Beast and it seemed to make people happy. Got some good feedback on it. But no money...and that explains why sales have gone flat.

I'm at that stage of life where I need the cash more than anything. And the Universe seems bent on me not having it while making damn sure I have to ladle it out.

I've spent close to $5000 trying to get A Place of Safety-Derry and New World For Old some traction in sales, to minimal good. Haven't even made back 10% of that. Same thing happened with David Martin. That was more than $3000 when I worked it up...half of which was for a professional illustrator...and another bust.

It's just, I can't afford a publicist on top of it. So guess I'm a total fuckup.

Another movie night...

Watched Mildred Pierce, the Joan Crawford version. And it amazes me she won the Oscar for that. I guess the community thought she was due, since she'd given so many truly good performances while at MGM. Because in this movie...well, there's that famous critique by Dorothy Parker -- "She ran the gamut of emotions from A to B." (Though she wasn't referring to Joan, at the time.)

Joan could be an amazing actress in the right vehicle. As the stenographer in Grand Hotel...she was a sexy little minx. And the home-wrecker in The Women...you could see how she'd trap a man. But there was nothing real about her in MP. Jack Carson, Eve Arden, and Zachary Scott were a lot more natural, making Joan's stiffness even more glaring.

I think Gene Tierney was more deserving, that year, for Leave Her to Heaven. Cold. Cruel. Unwavering. Her bit in the drowning scene, alone...let's just say it scarred me for life.

But be that as it may, it's clearing the cobwebs out of my fuzzy brain. As is inputting the corrections to the ebook and hardback files of APoS-HNH. I made a couple more changes in it, as well. Nothing major, just a better way of expressing something. My editor is about 40% of the way through.

I'm just not going to be able to focus on any other project till this is done, so have finally accepted that. I worked more on the dust jacket, neatening up the synopsis on the flaps and aligning the text and images. It's a lot better.

Oh, and I'm having a joyous time with the USPS, as well. I sent signed copies of the first two volumes of APoS to a friend in Orlando, but put his address wrong on the label. Instead of 11808 as the street number, I put 11806...and they refused to deliver it. Said No such number. So are supposed to return it. It's now nearly 6 weeks later, and I can't even find out exactly where it is or when it will be back. If ever. And since I sent it media mail, it's not insured.

I so love today's world of service and technology,

Movie night...

I'm all set to consult with a bankruptcy attorney on Monday. Worked up more current pricing for a pair of jobs in DC in March and April, as well as discussed the logistics with a transport group. Learned the CEO of the health group I'm shifting to was murdered and his company is one of the worst when it comes to providing healthcare. Then ALSO learned my current healthcare insurance is refusing to pay for too much anesthesia, so they're just as screwed up...and it's not making me happy.

I finally said fuck it and watched Now, Voyager, for the umpteenth time. It's ripe and has a script that would displease all screenwriting gurus, today, from the sloppiness in its structure. But it's iconic.

Bette Davis actually looks beautiful and not as mannered as usual. Paul Henreid did okay in his acting, but he was better in Casablanca. But there's always Claude Rains and Gladys Cooper to liven things up, and Mary Wickes to make it fun.

Next was The Women, a real cat-fest with Norma Shearer, Joan Crawford, Rosalind Russell and a dozen other actresses having a bitchy fun time. I don't like either of the remakes. They lost the whole point of the story by including men.

These are comfort movies to me. I know most of the lines and what will happen when; it's the storytelling that entrances me. And they take me the fuck away from the craziness of the world.

I've now gotten notes back on the first 25% of APoS-HNH, and some typos I can't believe I missed. Needed words, too. Man. There was only one I disagreed with because she didn't like my colloquial dialogue, at one particular moment. That's staying in. The rest...I'm pulling up not only the HB and ebook files but also the one I sent her to use so I can make sure I get all of them corrected.

Soon...soon...I will have all three volumes completed. Soon...

I love my car...

A lot. This little Civic has been the best car I've ever owned. But today it hurt, because I needed to have the brake system rebuilt and it cost me a shitload. Cut into my savings by more than a couple thousand. Sent me into a downward spiral I'm still caught in,

Realistically speaking, like many creative people of the past...I'm pretty much bankrupt. I'm calling an attorney, tomorrow, to discuss it. No debt mitigation. Just end it. Kill my credit. Hope I can keep one card available for work/travel. I'll have to see.

I might be able to get a card through my credit union, if I guarantee it with what's left of my savings. Dunno about that, yet. I need the legal advice, first.

What pisses me off is, I was on track to pay everything off within 16 months when Covid hit and shut everything down. I was managing to help my brother, on top of it. But my income dropped by 40%...and would have been worse had it not been for Unemployment being made available to me and that stimulus check Democrats pushed through.

Continuing to help my brother kicked me down, financially, but it was that or he'd be homeless. And my sister was doing all she could, as well. Got his eyes fixed and got him fitted with dentures. Bought him a second-hand trailer to live in so all he paid for was a space in a mobile home park, and utilities.

Now he's on SSI and in subsidized housing, and has been for a year...and I've been fighting to get my debt down. But pushing APoS with what little publicity I could get going for it was expensive and didn't do much. Then interest on one credit card rose to 20%. So the balance just kept inching up. And my income, last year, between SSI and Caladex, was about what I brought in 15 years ago. I'm amazed I've kept what I owe from doubling instead of growing by just 50% since 2020.

But eventually you have to admit that it's beyond your control. Especially since the incoming MAGAt class of politicians want to cut SSI back. Get ready for the apocalypse.

And curse all the motherfucking Democrats who didn't bother to vote or chose to teach Biden and Harris a lesson, over Gaza...and are realizing too late what a stupid fucking plan that was.

Busy-ness day...

Started off getting blood drawn for my new doctor...and learning I should have fasted for 12 hours instead of 10. Oopsie. They also had to use a vein in my forearm to get enough because going through my hand would just not work.

So I went to a nearby Mickey D's for hotcakes and sausage...but they were out. Had to go to a different one because I now had my entire life set on having them from McDonald's. Another one was up the street and that gave me exactly what I needed...with OJ.

Got milk and a couple things then came home and called a new healthcare provider about the coming changes with Blue Cross...and wound up changing policies. Highmark runs Blue Cross now, and they are not being nice so my doctors have cut them off. Turns out my new provider is better geared to my needs and cheaper. Shit, exactly what I needed...I hope. you never really know how something will work until you use it.

So now everything's set for me to dig deeper into BA, but a woman on the 6th floor decided to burn her dinner in the oven or something and we had a massive fire alarm. Total evacuation. And it smelled more like she'd put her wig in the stove and that caught fire or something. What was she cooking????

But this time I was prepared, in case we had to leave for hours. I keep a change of shirt, undies and socks in my backpack so shoved in my laptop and phone and headed downstairs. 9 flights. Lots of fun. Several fire trucks and cops all over the place, one of whom was really cute. We stood around for a while till the all cclear came through.

I returned to my place and did some thinking...no writing...on BA-Franz. It's time Léon faced certain deep-rooted urges within himself and learned he's not as in control as he thought. Which will set the stage for the coming parts, quite nicely.

He won't be feeling guilt for what he does; just shame. Embarrassment. Confusion. And Gabrielle will be there to slap him with a bit of truth. It's what big sisters are for.

As for me and the world...the image says it all, and I ain't gonna give it another thought.

Waffling...

This is one of those days where I have no idea what I did...aside from laundry. And making my bed with clean sheets. And a dash of ironing. And lots of chit chat online with people I know. Finding out some of them have updated their contact info and getting that down.

And...thinking. Trying to decide how to handle the Franz part of Blood Angel now that I know the direction it needs to go. Léonidès has been a fairly decent guy, for a vampire. Not bestial like his sister can be. And he keeps his troupe in line, so they aren't feeding on just anyone.

But I wonder if this new aspect needs to be brought forward, more. Or now. Have Léon deal with an instinct that surprises him when he's told No. And how that should be handled. Does he seduce Franz? Coerce him? Flat out rape him? Turn him to save him from an infection that is killing him? Get interrupted as he's feeding on him to kill him? I can see justifications for them all, so can't really decide.

The only thing I know for certain, right now, is Franz is not gay and deep within him is harbored a hate and cruelty that winds up being unleashed when he's turned. And Leon thinks maybe if he's with a woman as his lead instead of a gay man that he'll be better. I haven't figured out how that will develop, yet.

But at least I'm back to thinking about a story to write. A novella. And I think I'll keep posting these on GayDemon, to be read for free. That seemed to get people interested in my actual novels. I think.

I could also do a followup to The Beast, where Warren winds up working for a secret space-ship-stop that serves fuel and meals, in some area of the desert...or mountains. And he's tasked with bringing men to it to be on the menu. That could could become very black comedy...maybe.

Oh, decisions, decisions...