Defragging

I know it's an obsolete term, but it fits my work on OT, today. I'm letting it rebuild itself in my brain. I added a nice moment between Meredith and Jake while they talked about Uncle Owen, but nothing more.

The year of the dragon is almost over. So much for astrology meaning anything.

Life lessons...

That may be part of the reason I so do not like the "Twilight" series. I tried watching the first one and gave up halfway through. Bella was a snotty bitch. Edward was an aloof twerp. The story was so lumpy, I couldn't handle it. And all I've heard about the series since confirms that "Buffy..." was an anomaly -- a project with a strong female lead who could hold her own against anything and make her own hard decisions. Amazing how we've gone backwards to when men scowled and women suffered those scowls because they loved their men.

I'm thinking of the song Scarlett O'Hara sings the morning after being raped by Rhett Butler. "Oh she wept with delight when he gave her a smile, and trembled in fear at his frown." That was in 1939. You'd think things would have changed for the better.

Guess not.

Reading on the crapper

That's when I get most of my reading done. I used to be in a rush to get in and out, but not anymore. It's relaxing to just...read. I'm currently finishing up "Confessions of a Hollywood PI", a true account of the author's time as investigator to people big in film and television. It's got short chapters and is short on detail, but it's an interesting read. I started it for research into investigations, since that's what Jake's doing in OT.

I think I'll read some Raymond Chandler, next. And maybe some Richard Parker and James Elroy. See how they handle the clues and details of the mystery.

Tonight was adjusting what I've written to fit the story's new reality. One positive thing is, this gives it an organic red herring, I think. It's going to need work to make it all fit and not meander too much, but that's half the fun.

What's even more fun is how Lemm's trying to muscle his way into Jake's inner circle, and yet is still willing to do what he must to survive -- including betrayal. Probably more than Jake would. Lemm's becoming Jake's doppelganger.

Except...Jake would never betray anyone. Would he?

Hmm.

Dumb

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I spoke too soon about the end being in sight for OT. That lovely garden path just became a bramble bush and I got snared in it. My reasoning for why everything happened flew out the window and left behind nothing but a room full of bird poop.

Dammit.

I was going to have the explanation tie into greed, plain and simple. It worked out so perfectly. Too perfectly. I should have seen the trap Jake laid and led me into. The little shit.

So now he's just looking at me, cool-eyed, and asking what I'm going to do about it. Because the fact of the matter is, the greed idea was an easy out. The lazy man's explanation. A Hollywood story.

It's like he's saying, "You know what this is really about. Stop being a wuss." Which is, realistically, what I was being. I didn't want to have to work out the whole deal, but it's not going away. A devil sprang through the door and it took a kick in the ass from my angels to make me see it for what it was.

And if this post doesn't convince you I'm a psychopathic freak, nothing will.

Downhill side of the mountain

This has been a very productive weekend. I now have over 310 pages and 68,000 plus words done on OT...with the majority of its structure down. I need to link a 49 page section with the first 268, then do the final reveal, but I can finally see flat land ahead.

This little beast has taken some interesting turns. What I started out thinking would be the reason for it all has become a smokescreen of a smokescreen and may yet be leading me down the garden path. You never know which direction the characters will want to go...or who will jump through the door to join the ensemble along the way...or who will decide to do something that throws everything else off.

I will say, 85% of the time when these things happen, it makes everything better. This is why I disagree with Susan Sontag's quote. I'm not seeking these moments, not specifically. But by keeping myself open to them, they carry me off.

I think most writers feel that way. Most artists. They trust the magic that comes their way to envelop them and carry them into new realms. Sometimes the magic is black. Sometimes it's white. Sometimes you can't even tell until all is said and done whether you've touched an angel or a devil.

I can't reject either one, because "If my devils are to leave me, I'm afraid my angels may take flight, as well." (Ranier Maria Rilke writing in "Duineser Elegien") And I like them both.

Writing...

I like Susan Sontag, but I must disagree. The door can be enlarged, if you want it to, but you do have to be willing to accept anthing that enters through it...be it lovely, ugly, angelic or of the devil. You can't pick and choose and keep the door open. I'm learning that from too damn much experience.

Any time I try to limit what my story is about -- or let myself become afraid of it or what it demands -- that fucking door closes a little and I have a hell of a time getting it back open enough to let the universe through. It's very demanding, no question, but so long as it's ajar, beauty in all its glorious and hideous wonder shines through.

Sometimes I can handle anything it shows me, and sometimes I'm too weak...and to be honest, sometimes I'm just plain too damned lazy. But I fight to keep that door open as far as it will go. And in response, it's shown me how to do things I didn't think I could do.

This is, of course, leading back to finishing "Place of Safety". That is my main goal, this year -- getting a first draft done. The only two others are ones leading up to it -- a good draft of "The Vanishing of Owen Taylor" and a good version of "The Alice '65". The fight I'm having with Jake over the voice for OT is good; it's prepping me for Brendan's voice, which will walk the line between poetry and pubescent language. And A65 is giving me a workout on keeping joy in the story, so POS doesn't wallow in its misery like "Angela's Ashes" did.

I fight to keep the door open for this.

I wonder about me...

Jake and I are having a problem. He wants to tell the story like he talks. I want to make it literature, maybe with a touch of poetry. He thinks I'm being stupid, and I halfway believe that if he had a corporeal body, he'd throttle me, that's how irritated he's become.

Thing is, I want the language of the story to match its meaning. I had fun with Ace's hard-boiled, paranoid patois because it fit the tone of the story. And keeping it going while still being able to keep the other characters in their proper mode was challenging. I don't know if I succeeded; people ain't buying the book and I have 1 whole critique that says nothing.

With "Bobby Carapisi", I focused in on building three different styles of writing to reflect three completely different men -- Eric, who's educated but trendy; Bobby, who's just a guy who made it through school; and Allen, who thinks he's more erudite than he is. I find it interesting that no one's caught onto the fact that when Allen quotes "Pride & Prejudice", he uses the 1940 movie version instead of the book, and Eric doesn't catch it, indicating both are a little full of themselves as to how smart they really are.

With "How To Rape A Straight Guy"I was telling the story through a poorly educated ex-con who's filled with anger and self-righteousness. The trick to that story was revealing how devastating his actions are to others without him recognizing his part in that devastation. On that one, I know I did good; I've gotten lots of feedback, and it's 95% positive.

"Porno Manifesto" and "Rape in Holding Cell 6" were more plot oriented with some character development to make them seem real, but they weren't a challenge in the writing style. With them, it was the mechanics, and it really shows in PM; less so in RIHC6.

"NYPD Blood" was me keeping it in the mindset of a guy from NYC in the 60s and 70s who doesn't recognize his own growing emotional instability while making it obvious to others. With this one, while I had a real person to use for the manner of speech and resources like "Serpico" and "Prince of the City" to draw upon, it was the jumping around in the story while still keeping a linear structure that was the challenge. Again, I don't know if it worked.

So...I like to try different things. I enjoy the challenge, even as I whine about it. But this is the first time I've had problems with a character about his storytelling. I know what Jake wants, but he's smarter than he lets on. He's better educated. It's all a facade he's built to protect himself, and him dropping it for a moment at a crucial moment in the story let me see that. He's not a Raymond Chandler or James Ellroy kind of guy. He reads. He's an artist. A creator. He's working on a graphic novel. He cares about people. He's loyal to a fault. He's not a lone wolf but one that belongs with a pack.

He's not being honest with me. Why not?

Circling the wagons

The old western phrase, which was how wagon trains fended off attacks by Native Americans. I'm trying to do it with my finances...and that took up all of this evening. Changing insurance companies to get less expensive policies. Working out a serious budget to keep spending to a minimum. checking into the penalties to stop cable and my land-line (and finding out I'm too close to the end of the contract for it to be of any use).

So...no writing done. But at least I dropped my current expenditures by over $80 a month.

I'm doing this because once I have OT's first draft done, I'm getting A65 into order and entering it into competitions and festivals...and those ain't cheap. I need the flexibility in my outgo. I have a feeling this script is the one that will put me over the top, finally. But it has to be as good as it can be. No, it has to be better.

The positive thing about OT, right now, is it's keeping my brain focused on something else and getting me plenty of distance from A65. That way I can approach it as if it's someone else's work and attack it, accordingly.

I also got a deal through my health insurance where I can join a fairly cheap gym for free. Up to $250 per year. Now it's a case of where I'd be stupid if I didn't make use of that...and I've got too many other ways to be stupid. On this, my goal is to build stamina more than anything else. I've noticed I get tired a lot easier, these days, and I can't do that while I'm dealing with packing books. Collapsing at the end of the day is not a way to get anything else done besides work. So...back to the stationary bike.

Who knows? Maybe someday I'll wind up back at 160 lbs and healthy as a horse.

(Snort.)

The last of Chapter 2 of OT

Clarifying what I have drains the brains...so this pick up from the post before last...

---------------------------
I couldn’t believe it. “My mother called you?”

“Me,” said Tone. “Looking for you. I told her you were out of the country.”

“When?”

“Day before yesterday.”

Suddenly, I was thinking I should’ve gone to see her the second I got back.

“She leave a number?”

Tone nodded, still too even.

“What’d she say to you, Tone?”

“Jake, I don’t want to add to any problems -- .”

“What did she say to you?”

“She just asked why you were here. And I told her, to be with me. And she...she sighed and said, Well, that’s typical for Jake; always letting people drag him down. Then she gave me her number and address and -- .”

“I know the address,” I said. “And I’m goin’ straight over there.”

“She’s moved, Jake,” said Matt. “Here’s her new – .”

“She sold her condo? She loved that fuckin’ place.”

“Just telling you what she told us.”

I’d finished my meal so slid off the stool. “I’m gonna get dressed and go see her, now.” Matt gave me a slip of paper with a phone number and address on it. I recognized it. “This is south side.”

Matt just shrugged. Of course he wouldn’t know; he hadn’t been here long enough. But my mother was one of those snooty types who lived where there were acceptable people around, and the Southside was spotty, at best.

I went around the counter, took Tone by the arm and guided him into the bedroom with me. I closed the door behind us and sat him on the bed, then I kneeled before him and looked hard into his eyes.

“What else did my mother say to you?”

He looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. I won’t make you. But keep something in mind, Tone. I ain’t seen that bitch since she let my father kick me out of her home. So what she knows about me and how I work is nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada. Anything she says to you about me, is total bullshit.”

He cast me his patented sideways glance and said, “But she’s right. You wouldn’t be here except for me.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” His eyes began to hurt, but then I added, “I’d be back in jail, or still living in Gramma’s house and trying to figure out how to make a livin’. And I’d have a record instead of exoneration. I couldn’t have gone to work with Uncle Ari. I’d never have met my brothers and sisters or Mira or cousins. I wouldn’t be alive, Tone. I’d be existin’, but I wouldn’t be alive. And I wouldn’t have you.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away. “Dammit, Jake – now I feel like an asshole.”

“You are one, bitch.” I leaned my chin against his chest. “But keeps something else in mind – my mother could break the heart of a marine drill sergeant in a nano-second. Believe me, I’d rather go back to prison than go over to her place, right now.”

“Then don’t.”

“I have to. Something’s goin’ on with my uncle Owen and she’s part of it. And I need to know what she’s up to, and the only way to find out is a face-to-face.”

“Should I stock up on the alcohol?”

I nodded. “Beer, please. No, fuck it – Tequila.”

“I’ll get some mixers and invite Aron over. We’ll have nice queeny get-together.”

“Cool.” He got up and headed for the door, but I held onto his hand and asked, “Will you tell me everything she said to you, tonight?”

He gripped my hand and said, “I’ll tell you now.” He took in a deep breath. “She figured out how wrong she was, doing what she did to you. And she’s sorry. And wants to make amends.”

“What’s so awful about that?”

“I dunno...it’s just...I didn’t believe a word of it. She sounded like she was reading from a prepared text. And I thought I was being a real shit for thinking that.”

“You weren’t,” I said.

He cast me a quick smile and left the room. He hadn’t told me anything worth ripping him up, so he was still hiding it from me. Shit.

I sat on the floor, shaken. I’d come damn close to asking Tone to go with me to see her, and now I was glad I hadn’t. I mean, I’ve never been able to tell when my mom’s being straight with me or working her way round on something. She was like this blind spot. Even when she called and tried to make me agree to start ex-gay therapy, I’d felt like she really meant well by it and was just being crazy and all that. I’d never thought of her as someone who was capable of lying. But Tone’d sensed it straight off, and it spooked me. Made me wonder if I’d be able to tell what she was really after.

Well...there’s only one way to find out. I got up and got dressed and headed over to the insurance company where she worked. I wanted a nice calm professional environment around us, as a buffer, I guess.

Only it turned out she hadn’t worked there in over two years.

Man...I did have a lot to catch up on, with her.

Silent no more

I worked on OT, tonight. The story is filling itself in and working out its structure in some surprising ways, to me. And Jake's language has simplified to a modern version of hard-boiled. Mr. cool, calm and collected...he thinks. But moments pop in to show he's trying to fool himself as much as anybody else.

Something else that's working on Jake is his time in prison and the secrets he's keeping. His uncle's disappearance shakes up his ability to ignore the past, and it begins to bubble up in ways I didn't expect.

It all ties into a theme that seems to want to present itself -- that we can never really know someone, no matter how close we are to them...even ourselves. This is a bit close to the bone, for me...because there are aspects of my life I've shared with no one. At all. And probably never will. And that...to me, that indicates a serious lack of trust. Or the ability to trust. I'm not sure which.

But I came up with a line for Mira, Jake's stepmother, to share with him. "Only a fool trusts everyone, and only a coward trusts no one." I'm in both camps, which seems to be a contradiction...but isn't, really.

I will say, Jake is building into someone anybody could trust. Maybe he's becoming too good. Too idealized on my pages. Nobody's perfect, and he's willing to not be. But I haven't worked him out completely, yet.

If I ever can.