Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 137

In Toronto waitin' on a plane

And it's been delayed nearly 2 hours. We're not leaving till 3am. Ugh. BUT...it's giving me time to work on DW and keep it moving. I sent out a plea to the characters for help on adding to it...and they provided me with a nice little bit between Adam and Marion, Dair's mother, where she effectively gives her blessing to him being with her son and showing how she feels about her daughter-in-law. Got rather colorful.

Of course, the issue is I'm listening to Christmas hymns and carols...grr...but I'm feeling a lot better about the story. I may still miss it by a few hundred but the fact that it's still building in me shows there's something there. And I'll have a 15 hour flight where I can't do anything else. I didn't bring a book or anything to do so maybe I'll get it done while en route. The story ends with Dair flying to Tokyo...

Dammit, having the plane be this late's made me hungry. I'm gonna find a Starbuck's or Timmy Ho's and get some tea and crumpets.

Gotta feed the beast within.

7200 to go...

I'm closing in on 50K with Dair's Window but it's going to be close. I'm at the point where the wedding is about to take place and haven't got much story left to build upon -- about 5000 words left to add the 7200 to. The 42,800 includes the full script I shifted to narrative format so the story is basically written to the end, but it's not really written yet, if that makes sense. I'm going through and filling in the bits that need more description to make sense. So we'll see how it goes.

I still need to add more about Dair's trial for beating up the guy who firebombed his house. And there is that incessant antagonism between him and a local punk. But overall it's a more interior book than I thought it would be. Might be why it's not a very good script; I haven't really dug into it as much as I should have.

So this is kind of a light story, action-wise. It's more about emotions and feelings and contemplations and explanations and it's not very interesting, right now. Once I come back to it, I'll do what I can to make it better...starting with coherence and consistency. My two big bugaboos...

I'm also changing some names. I don't like Caroline as the name of the villain so will shift it to Sarah. And I gave Bobby and Nelda a last name -- Szebeniec...which is Poilish-ish for madman.

I couldn't do a lot on it today due to having to get ready for my trip to Hong Kong. I've already found I have an issue with my check-in with the Airline. I didn't use my full name when I made the reservation and now they require the name on the ticket match exactly what's on your passport. I'll have to do a manual check in when I get to Toronto's airport, so will need to leave earlier than I expected. Good thing is, the flight's not till 1:20am Tuesday.

I'm feeling a bit paranoid, right now, after the debacle with that shipment from DC. Turns out the damage was done in the delivery truck, so at least no paperwork was lost. But now I'm freaky about everything so am taking extra information with me to Hong Kong to make sure I'm covered.

Also feeding into my paranoia is learning a friend from Heritage Book Shop is in Hong Kong. I sent him a message saying I'd be there and maybe we could get together and got a "Sorry, I'm leaving that day." It reminded me he's never been very chatty on Facebook, just polite. Guess he's not really a friend, just an acquaintance, now.

Sometimes it takes me a while to get the hint...

Still at it...

Dair's Window is threatening to actually make it to 50K in wordage, to my shock. I won't make it before I head to Hong Kong on Monday night, but I'll have a 15 hour flight to work on it...hopefully with power. Sometimes the seat plugs work and sometimes they don't. We'll just have to see.

But today was a good day for the story. I guess my whining made the characters realize I needed their help here...and so they stepped up. I worked on a long tender discussion between Dair and Adam that Adam's telling. He starts out intending to seduce Dair and make him a client; he's made money as a rent boy. But as they talk and he gets to know Dair, his feelings shift. He may be a few years younger but he's lived on the street and has a realistic view of the world and the people in it...and he sees Dair is still caught in the idea that you should trust people.

During the talk, Adam learns Dair has anger issues and had them pretty much under control, thanks to being away from certain situations for a couple years. But his sister-in-law knows exactly the right buttons to push to send him over the edge then feign innocence when he explodes...and she's still at her old tricks.

Dair hosts a birthday party for himself and invites friends from Seattle and Tacoma, and some bring their kids. The sister-in-law calls child protective services on them and they show up during the party. Adam is there, sees Dair is about to explode so steps in and pretends he invited the women, then he and Marion, Dair's mother, show them around the house. By the time they leave they're kissing Dair's cheek for good luck. All nicely handled.

Now Dair's torn. He knows what happened and is fighting himself over it. Anything he does will cause a massive rift with his brother and disrupt his relationship with his nieces. It might even affect his mother's relationship with them. But he has always stood up for himself and can't let it go. That's when Adam comes in and talks with him...and they share secrets...and Dair finally makes a move on Adam...and things progress from there.

As mentioned, Adam has a very questionable background. There are a lot of things he had to do to survive after being kicked out of his parents' home...and Dair winds up being his salvation as much as he is Dair's. I'm not sure how to handle this, yet, but something I want to keep in mind is...not only was Adam ripped away from Dair but Dair was also ripped away from him. He's a dead man telling his part of the story...so can he feel sorrow about this? Pain? Anger? Like Dair feels?

The question I asked myself for this story was, How do you move on when your soul mate dies? Guess I'm wondering if that's also a question in the afterlife.

I'm not gonna make it...

I've run out of story on Dair's Window and I'm at 38,300 words. I'm digging and going through what I've written and a lot of it's whiny and tedious...so this may be a story that's not ready to be told or just plain isn't novel material. More like novella. No padding allowed in those.

I really do get the sense the story's only partially prepped in my head. The characters can't decide who they are, yet; they keep shifting back and forth as to what the story's about. One character has decided to take on a more powerful role as villain and is proving to be interesting but is worthy of a lot more care than I can give at the moment.

I suppose I could cheat and say I made 50K...but I'm the only one I'd be cheating, nobody else. Kind of silly to do that, I think. Just self-defeating. I'll keep at it, but I don't expect to achieve my goal on this.

I got some artwork I'd commissioned to use as the cover of Underground Guy...and it didn't turn out like I wanted. It's good and polished, but it's not right. It's...nice...a bit on the cartoonish side...no, really more like Yaoi or Manga than anything. Not the least bit raw, and that story is not nice. It would be completely wrong to use. So I'm back to square one -- using my own photo worked over in Photoshop.

This is the second time I've asked for artwork and gotten what I asked for and it's turned out wrong. I must be bad at explaining what I really want. That or I'm choosing the wrong artists for the project...which is probably more likely. I have a habit of grabbing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

That's my way -- going right when I should go left...

Hitting over 37,300 words on DW

I had a decent early dinner and worked on DW and managed to reach 37,300 words, so far. I'm still not sure what the story's about because I know some of the stuff I'm working on is tedious and unreadable, but it's a beginning.

The turkey make me sleepy so I took a nap, too. I still managed slam through 2300 words. Late Monday night I'm headed for Hong Kong hoping I don't fuck up, again, but you never know till you do it what's going to happen.

I'm forcing myself to keep writing despite the last couple days. What little confidence I had in myself got shattered thanks to that job in DC. I got down there, got the collection and archives packed in about the amount of time I said I would, got it picked up even though our trucker didn't show up and got it packed into containers to protect the shipment during transit, all on schedule. I was proud...and tired.

But...because I didn't do one last step -- have plastic banding put around these nice solid containers to hold the lids in place -- somehow along the way a 700 pound 48x40x45 inch container got dumped on its side and the top popped off...and the collection got messed up, inside. Some of it wound up caught between the clear shrink wrap on the container and the container, itself. Items may be missing; they won't know till they've gone through everything.

I got sick. Seriously. A blinding headache and depression like I've never felt. It was a lovely collection of books and photos and papers from Eastern Europe under Communism...and it may be ruined. It brought out memories of every stupid thing I've ever done in my life, and there are a lot of them, and jolted me down to the point where I actually was suggesting to Brendan he find someone else to write his story because I would just fuck it up. He ignored me.

I'm better now...but still upset. And shaky. And nothing pleases me. Nothing. I should never write when I feel like this...but if I don't I don't meet the challenge for NaNoWriMo. So I put down bland and boring and figure I'll come back to it later.

Maybe.

Some of today's work on DW...

I've had two hideous days at work so worked on a moment of tenderness between Dair and Adam to cleanse myself...and I have no idea where this goes in the story, yet...
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Sometimes I would watch Dair as he worked. Always quietly. Always in a way that would cause him no disturbance.
The first time I did this was by accident. I returned from repairing the door to a shed to find him seated on an old lounging chair he kept in his studio, hunched over and his legs crossed. It was late and dark so I thought he was resting, but as I approached and before I called to him I noticed he was focused on two pieces of glass -- his left hand held one that was a red as deep as blood and gleaming like a ruby; his right hand held one that was pale and shifted between a soft blue and a clearness as clean as a freshly cut diamond. His face was caught in a frown as his eyes shifted from one to the other, holding each at slightly different angles so their colors changed with the light.

I stopped. Almost held my breath for fear I would startle him.

He held them side by side, then one atop the other, then switching them around, using the light from a lamp beside him to shine through them, then the harsh overhead light. I saw he wore the gloves I had found for him. I had thought he did this only to silence my concerns...but this time I began to believe he did not want his blood to mar the beauty of the pieces he so lovingly gazed upon.

He reminded me of the youngest children in my skiing classes. So focused on doing everything just right. Turning their feet just so. Holding their poles at the proper angle while drifting down the beginner slopes. Even on snowboards, they held this sort of focus. A focus only someone innocent can manage. Blocking out the world and all its distractions.

He was so beautiful there. Just sitting there. Shadows behind him. His dark eyes searching for something. Inspiration? Agreement? Acknowledgement? I wanted to know but dared not break the spell.

Finally, he shifted and slowly rose to his feet to climb off the recliner to head back to his workbench. I silently moved closer to keep him in view and found him crouched before a small mound of shattered glass that gleamed in shades of amber. He would pick one up to look through then place it back on the pile, never toss, never drop. Over and over he did this...until he found the one he wanted. Then he stood up and turned on a strong lamp above his bench and, from what I could tell, looked at all three resting side by side in the palms of his hands.

I had been hungry when I arrived home, and somewhere in the back of my mind I still was, but to see him like this cast aside all other concerns. I felt as if I were seeing him fresh and new.

I silently maneuvered to the lounger and sat to watch as he laid the pieces together and turned to another small pile of red glass to go through the same process. Then he did this with the blue, each time placing another sliver of glass with the others.

I was so focused on watching him it took me several moments to realize there were a dozen sketches of me tacked to the walls, each from a different angle catching a different expression of my face. Exactly right and well-detailed. I could not remember him ever doing them. Had he taken photographs of me without my knowing?

I saw him weave a little and take in a deep breath. His whole being still focused on the glass spread atop his bench, he backed up to the lounger. I could see he was planning to sit so I straddled it to let him glide down at its foot. He shifted back and felt my leg and looked around at me...and his face became a smile. His dark eyes grew lighter and open. All without the least bit of shock or surprise.

His voice was a whisper of reverence as he said, “I’m trying something new. Dunno if it’ll work, but why not?”

I replied in the same tone, “Do you wish to tell me of it?”

“Let’s how it goes, first. ‘Kay?”

I smiled and nodded and drew him into my embrace, running my hands softly over his arms and chest.

“Your muscles are tight,” I said. “And I think I hear your tummy saying it wishes to be fed. Have you eaten anything, today?”

He took in a deep breath and gave me a gentle shrug.

I nodded. “Then it is good I took a steak from the freezer and brought with me some of that potato salad you like. And we can begin with a nice mushroom soup. Would that be satisfactory, monsieur?”

“I would love it,” purred from him.

“Then as you take a nice hot shower...” He looked at me, feigning insult, so I added, “To remove the dustings of glass I see on you. Very hot. Very careful. By the time you are done, dinner will be served. No need to dress; we are very informal.”

He chuckled and caressed the line of my chin with the backs of his left fingers as his right hand wound itself in with mine. He was almost back into my world.

Lost...

Just when I think I've found the thread I need to make DW a coherent story with meaning instead of just a character study of a man trying to rebuild his life...it breaks. The only consistency I've found, so far, is Dair and Adam loved each other, deeply, madly, truly. And that was taken away from Dair. And Adam knows of his turmoil and pain but can't do anything to stop it from where he is.

Something that seems to be building in this is Dair becoming aware of how vile people can be while seeming to be on your side. His sister-in-law is one; she testifies on behalf of Adam's parents when they sue Dair then purrs some hideous things about Adam as an apology after the fact...and nearly gets her head ripped off. Of course, then she plays victim to his irrational behavior.

I can see anger building in Dair even in this fractured story. Adam dies in an avalanche while protecting his skiing students. One dies with him but the rest are saved. He's only allowed to be a hero until someone informs the press he slept with men or women for money. That starts the anger building.

Then Adam's parents won't even let Dair say goodbye to his body but cut him off...even after having disowned Adam. Then comes the lawsuit and Dair being forced to leave his home by a homophobic judge...hmm...it almost seems like too much is being heaped on him...and probably is in order to make up for a lack of knowing how to handle the story. I'm slinging everything at it to see what sticks.

I guess I'll keep doing that till I hit 50K in wordage or the end of the month cuts me off.

Broke 30,000 word on DW...

I've got the full book pretty much blocked in, but there are sections that aren't fleshed out yet...like Dair's assault trial and more remembrances of Adam's. Still...it's going to be a lot of work to break 50,000. What's helping is finding this impish photo that could be Adam.

This is what he becomes after meeting Dair -- like a happy kitten or puppy. Dair becomes his raison d'etre and he loves having someone who is strong for him but also needs him at times. Which Dair does when he's working. Right now I don't mention any tattoos, but I think he should have some. And maybe piercings. Things he uses to remind himself he's alive.

And this is Dair in the main part of the story -- dark and lost and moody. I have to be careful with this because he's starting to come across as something of a weak asshole. Him beating up a little homophobe named Bobby in front of Reverend Samuels' church and congregation needs to come as a shock to him. He falls into a animalistic rage at comments made by the little shit, something he never does.

I like the physical looks of Kyle Krieger...but no tatts or piercings for Dair. He's got his art and scars on his fingers from working with shards of glass; he doesn't need ink to make him feel alive.

God...I have so much left to do...

Yesterday was not a good day...

Well...on top of everything else that happened on Friday, my flight was delayed an hour. I didn't get back to Buffalo till nearly 1am. Then I did something I don't usually do...at least, haven't since I worked at Book Soup. Back then I'd get off at midnight and walk down La Cienega to my apartment near Wilshire so would occasionally stop at Norm's and have an early morning breakfast of eggs, hash-browns, bacon and toast with hot tea. Theirs were perfection.

The only place open 24 hours in Buffalo, it seems, is Dennys...and they aren't up to Norm's. Not in the slightest. It was okay, and I'm sure I had too high of expectations, but still...how hard is it to deliver eggs hot instead of warm? And give you a pot of hot water for tea instead of having to take your cup away to pour more water into it?

Of course it didn't help that I was in a foul mood, so I got home and settled down by 3:30 and slept almost till noon. And worked some on DW but not as much as intended. I'm going through UG to clean it up one last time, then I'm prepping it in e-book for Smashwords and Kindle...and maybe Kobo, since they now had an adult line they offer. I'll set up the paperback for December, sometime.

The story works well...but I'm still finding typos to correct...and I'm cutting back on my use of commas. I am very antiquated when it comes to those. I'm also thinking of going into A65 and removing them, there...but that would be a bit much. I wrote it like it needed and my old-style grammar was right for it when I did it.

I'm going to use Thanksgiving to slam through DW. It won't be a coherent story when I'm done but it will have the basics, and I do prefer rewriting to writing. Much easier and creative, to my mind.

At least...what mind I have left...

Scrambled...

I thought I'd have a few hours to work on DW at the airport, this evening...but the trucker who was supposed to pick up the shipment I packed, yesterday, not only didn't show but told me it wasn't even booked. It was. I called and spoke with two different people, this week, to verify it.Got a big shrug over the phone.
So I located a UHaul close to the site, went there...and it doesn't exist, anymore. Found another and got a cargo van...and some of the slowest service ever...then parked my car in an underground lot since they don't offer a place for me to leave it, picked up the shipment, took it from DC to Baltimore, unloaded it for transport to New Haven, drove back to DC in traffic fit for the 405 on a Friday night, turned the van in, got my car, had dinner (since I'd skipped lunch) and drove back to Baltimore's airport...to find TSA Precheck wasn't open and I had to go through a massively long line and get myself verified despite having all the documents I needed to prove I really was Precheck.
I just sat down and my flight boards in 45 minutes. Not enough time to get back into the story.
Dammit. I did have some ideas while driving...and driving...and driving. I'll work on all those tomorrow. Right now I'm savoring a mango-a-go-go smoothie from Jamba Juice, with vitamins, and letting myself catch up with myself.
I did realize I was having the wrong person being the fighter in this story. Dair's stubborn and won't back down if pushed, but he doesn't let petty things bug him; he refuses to hand that kind of control over. Adam is the one taking offense at slights, and Dair keeps him in check. Then Adam dies and Dair's world is shattered. He doesn't know how to rebuild it so settles in to letting Wallace control things...which makes Wallace perfectly happy.
Wow...by the time I'm done with this first draft, I might actually know what the story is.