Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 139

Nearly 8900 words and a change...

This was a good day because I put more of not only Adam's but Dair's backstory in without having him do it, himself. Dair's sister-in-law, Caroline, is nice to his face but undermines him in every way she can. When he has friends up from Seattle for his first birthday home after 2 years in Europe and she finds out some of them have children, she anonymously calls Child Protective Services on them.

What's fun is how Adam takes over and pretends he knows the CPS Crew and invited them to the party, and Marion (Dair's mother) goes along. By the end of the party, they're singing Happy Birthday to Dair and having cake and champagne.

That leads to Adam revealing more of his own history, because Caroline also suggests to visitors that they shouldn't let their sons take skiing lessons from Adam, that it would be better if her female instructor taught them...just to be sure. That backfires on her because, to my surprise, Adam's open to accepting money for sex...and he gets a number of closet-case husbands hiring him. Of course, that stops when he and Dair get together, but it's an interesting aspect to him that I wasn't expecting.

Adam's not going to be an easy character. At first, he sees Dair as a guy to get money out of...and then as a meal ticket. He's like a feral cat that's perfectly happy to let you toss it a piece of tuna but if you try to pet it...watch out. So part of the story will be showing how Dair inadvertently tames him. Makes him happy and domesticated. My hope is this will add to the tragedy of his early death.

Something that's happened, however, is it's changed how I see Adam. I didn't really like my earlier sketch; it wasn't alive...wasn't right...felt stiff...so I did this one up and it works a lot better for me. Finishing it helped me learn more about Adam's life. When he was kicked out of his home. How he survived on the streets of Montreal. Why he wound up in Vancouver. The way he began working for Marion, in Washington State. Everything.

I love it when this happens...when the story takes a shift and leads me places I'd never thought of. I especially like opening the story with him being a loving, caring man so in love with Dair, he sings him awake. But the layers peel back and we see him as human and not a romantic caricature.

I wonder where we'll go next?

Closing in on 7000 words for DW

I'm slamming through to get this shifted into narrative format from screenplay, and along the line finding aspects of the story I had neglected. For example, I make minimal reference to Dair's brother, Gareth, who also owns a ski lodge. His wife's born-again and hates having Dair anywhere near her. That's all I do with them in the script, but that's ludicrously simplistic. So I'm digging in deeper to them.

I remembered I based her on the wife of a cousin of mine in Pennsylvania, and how she'd glared at me with barely controlled anger when I entered their home. She'd just found out I was gay and she wouldn't say a word...just glared. I was still shaken up by the family's attitude about me, so I only backed away and damn near called a cab to take me to the airport, right then. I had a feeling things weren't going to wind up well...and sure enough, that side of the family cut off contact with me. All but one female cousin, and she killed herself a few years later, leaving a son to their tender mercies.

I didn't see most of them again for 25 years, and then only because my aunt invited them over to her place when I'd gone down to visit her, after my mother died. I'd asked her if I could just see her...I had things to give her...and wound up not doing so. They all talked like nothing had happened, and I was able to spend a whole 10 minutes alone with my aunt. Haven't seen them since.

I visited her twice more, when she was dying, and managed to miss all but one cousin's husband. He's the one who let slip the boy left behind had died, a year earlier, and refused to tell me what happened or where is body was or anything. I still don't know.

I'm working some of this into DW now. It's reality, still, for too damn many people in this world. I've given Gareth and his wife 3 daughters, so it's not a fear of Dair molesting their children that gives them an excuse to cut him off. And I'm going to have Adam tell about that, not Dair...to anyone.

I'm also digging deeper into Adam's past. I made a couple of references to his parents disowning him and his brother not being nice, but I can go whole hog, now. Find out why he left home...if he was kicked out or ran away. How he survived, in either event. Make him harder. Edgier. More in need of love...which means he'd appreciate getting it from Dair and Marion even more.

I should never have been writing screenplays; I don't know how to fill one with background like this...

3700+ words...

Off to a good start on Dair's Window. I have over 2000 words for the opening and 1700 in a bit just after Adam learns he's been disowned by his family. Here's the first push through on it...rough but still...

------

Dair held me as I wept. No. No...I cried as a baby cries. Knowing something is wrong and not able to understand and giving in fully to his emotions in a way that is completely out of his control. My body shook with sobs and I let him keep his arms around me. I let him see me weak and broken. And still he held me. My losses and pains and desolation poured onto his shirt and molded it to him. My breath grew harsh and difficult to grasp. My head began to scream from pain and my heart throbbed as if I had run a hundred miles. And when I finally took back control, still he held me. Still he caressed my back, with nothing more than tenderness. Still he leaned his head against mine to give me support.

When finally I pulled away, I was no longer beautiful, but flush and swollen and scoured by my loss, but still he held my face and looked at me with kindness. And he said nothing.

He guided me to my feet and led me into the bathroom. Into the shower I had rebuilt. A hundred colors of clear and opaque tiles supported by soft gray grout. Glass doors folding open to let us enter. He undressed me there. Slowly, like one does a child. And I let him. His own shirt and pants, he shrugged them off and let them stay on the floor of the shower. His briefs he did not remove, nor mine, his quiet way of letting me know that was not the intention of this moment. He turned on the hot with a bit of cold mingled in and held me, face to face, letting the water pound on my neck and shoulders and the steam fill my soul with life and wonder. Nothing...nothing...nothing had ever felt so perfect.

He dried me as I dried him, both slow and gentle, but as I began to dress he stopped me and gave to me a pair of his jeans. His waist was a bit larger than mine, and the jeans would bunch around his ankles, but on me they looked casual and had only the slightest break at the hem. He gave me his favorite shirt, black and warm and just the right size for me, so long as I wore nothing under it. He gave me socks and, once I was dressed, put on me his parka.

Then he dressed himself in my work pants, undershirt, pullover sweater and camo-jacket. They fit him tight...but to my surprise, they also fit him well. Then we walked through the brisk evening air, hand in hand, stopping to watch the melting snow fill the stream that followed the winding road. The moon danced from cloud to cloud and stars cast adoring winks at us as we passed the road leading to the new housing. Across the main drag and up the drive to Marion’s lodge, then inside and past those dining in the restaurant or lounging by the fire straight into her office.

Marion was at her desk, writing. She looked up at seeing us and a soft frown crossed her face.

Dair brushed his fingers against mine and asked, “May I share this?”

I gave him a slight shrug.

He turned to Marion and said, “Adam received a letter. From a place he used to call home.”

She leaned back and saw my pants on him and his shirt on me and how he would look at her, unmoving, and how I could not focus my eyes on anything for more than a second, and she rose and came to me and straightened my collar and buttoned one more button on the shirt and smoothed my eyebrows and chuckled and said, “Y’know, if Gareth were here, I’d be able to say something silly like, Here’s my three sons.”

I looked at her, then, and her eyes were dancing. She held me close, like a mother should hold her child, and I hugged her and felt Dair’s hand caress the back of my neck and for the first time in my life I knew peace.

NaNoWriMo begins...

Here we go -- I'm going to do what I can to change DW from a script to my latest book...and it's already proving interesting. All the bouncing around I've been doing on it should make for a read that's at least fun to follow if not necessarily coherent. I've posted over 2000 words and will push to get it done ASAP. I'll also be pushing to get UG set and then comes pushing to get a first draft of APoS...yeah, not expecting much from me...

I've gone back through the outline for DW and added in beats I want the book to reveal. And I will be bouncing back and forth between Adam telling the story from the grave, and it being told in third person omniscient. I'm opening the story with Adam talking about their last day together and how they met, ending the chapter with him revealing he's dead.

Then shifting to Dair in current day prepping to marry Wallace, all in third person with memories flitting into his consciousness. Not sure how this is going to work through the whole book; it may wind up being an exercise in stupidity and confusion...but one has to try.

I thought about watching A Single Man to see if there are any similarities that need to be watched out for, but what I read about it indicates not. That movie's about a man preparing to kill himself after his lover's heath...and is set at a time when being gay was considered a mental illness. My setting's current day, except for the moments with Adam, and there ain't no suicide anywhere near it. I'm even putting in having Marion ask Dair if he's planning to do something stupid, at the end, and have him say, "I'll be damned if I wind up another sad dead faggot for those assholes."

He got attitude, Dair does, when confronted; it's when he's left alone that he's got issues.

Once more I'm completed...

With a packing job, that is. Pickup for the items is tomorrow and I head home on the late flight from JFK. Toronto is weekend after next, and then comes Hong Kong at the end of the month. A busy-ish month.

I'm still waiting on the second editor's notes on UG so kept adding to the outline for DW. I don't want to go through UG until I know what this second person's going to catch and suggest. That's a waste of time and effort.

I also contacted the LA Festival of Books and asked about setting up a signing during the next fair. That would be the second weekend of April. I'd do A65 and ask Book Soup to handle sales...if they let me in. It's late to be asking so all the slots may be taken...but I guess I could look into other festivals like this, like in NY or Chicago...

Y'know, this is proof positive I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to promotion of my books. I didn't even think about this until some fee-based company contacted me and asked if I'd like to make use of their services. I thought about it for the Festival...then checked to see when it was and found I could just ask to be part of that. So I did.

If I do get in, I can use my airline points to fly out, use points for a hotel room, maybe even use points for a car...all to keep expenses down. So I'd be out mainly gas, food and the cost of having books on-hand to sell. I could afford that.

As for that company, they don't list their fees on their website, never a good sign...so I'm not bothering. All they really offer is showing the book off, like what I set up for the Librarians' convention in DC...which got me nothing.

It's funny -- HTRASG and BC are my best-selling books, and I do very little promotion for them. They're hardly mainstream reading. DM and A65 are my poorest sellers. Guess I'm just not meant for the NY Times Bestseller list.

Story of my life.

NYC like it's always been...and me, too...

Working at Christie's NY today and tomorrow, nice mindless wrapping and packing of books in a sub-sub-basement down down down. Nothing much to distract me as I worked on some lovely first editions of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky and Chekov...wow...lots of reason to love writing...

SO...my mind drifted to DW...and something came forth that I may need to make the thread of the entire piece...something I was sort of hinting at but never actually put into words in my head. What do you do if your soul mate dies? How do you move on? Do you seek another soul mate? Someone to just be comfortable with? Do you cut yourself off from the world and just live out your days? This sketch shows what Dair lost. Question is, can he repair himself?

With Dair, it's not just that Adam died, but that the man's parents sued Dair in an attempt to get half his wealth, claiming Adam was a major contributor to Dair's success. Which he was. Dair's abilities as an artist expanded when he was with Adam, and he was made known by the guy. So what it boils down to is, they wanted to force him to sell his home and give them half. The place is valued at a couple million...also thanks to Adam's work on it.

In order to fight them, Wallace painted Adam as an opportunistic thief and not really contributory to Dair's career. For years. Now Dair doesn't know how he feels...but does know he's never been allowed to honestly grieve Adam's death. He just isn't sure if it's his dead lover he's grieving or his memory of him.

Something else is, he's  been deeply wounded by this and is seeking safe harbor...with Wallace. That popped up during this free-form thinking moment when I told myself Wallace has a will. He's the type who would. And got Dair to make one, as well. Set his estate in stone, as it were. So this same situation could never happen again.

I have no idea how I will set this out.

UG's first correction...

I finished going through my first editor's suggestions, and while I understand where she was coming from I did disagree a few times on commas to cut. That said, her obsession with them forced me to notice how ofter I use the word again. Jeez...I hadn't even noticed because it's almost a nothing word to me, like the and it, so I got carried away. When I do the next editor's pass I'm cutting out half of them, at least.
There were also a number of typos, including a couple I caught, myself. So on my next read I'm keeping an eye out for those. I did change the ending a little...and am thinking of changing it even more. Nothing major, just a bit of rearrangement to indicate something more than I have...make it more hopeful.
This is still a damn dark story, and Devlin really is a monster who winds up being tamed...somewhat. What's interesting is, my editor thought the only truly decent person in the book was Dev's brother, Colin. She did acknowledge Reg was a good guy...but she didn't like Diana, Colin's wife. Didn't trust her, which is interesting. I thought I'd written her to be a no-bullshit woman in control and very aware. Guess not. I'm not changing her, but it is fun to get a female perspective on how I write women. Maybe I made her too much like a man.
I also did research on stained glass art and really like how this dog turned out. I found what I'm really setting Dair up to be doing is more of a mosaic style, just using translucent glass instead of tiles and lead in place of grout. He wants to use color to build the faces, not paint or ink like so many do. And he's building them like holograms, where the face shifts expression when the light shifts. I honestly don't know if that's even possible...but he's insistent.
I learned a long time ago -- don't argue with your characters unless it's really important...and even then accept you'll probably give in.

UG returns...

I got my first edit back from my proofer, with notes...and an ongoing disagreement about commas. I know I overuse them in a very Victorian fashion, but I do believe in the Oxford comma for clarity and she's not so up on that. So I'm keeping some of the ones she suggested cutting but also trimming a lot of them. There is one setup I'm not 100% sure about regarding commas, so I'll dig into Strunk & White on that, tomorrow. (And I just used an example of one she wants to cut and I'm not so sure about.)

I sat in bed with my art board some of the day to input her suggestions. I'm about 3/4 of the way done but my ass is not letting me keep at this. And that's only after about 5 hours of bed time.

The earlier part of the day I spent working on DW...and caught an idea of what the story's really about. And it shook me up in a way I wasn't expecting. This happens after everything's exploded around Dair and he's facing trial for beating up a guy he thinks set his studio on fire. I wrote it like this so I'd know who is what --

DAIR: Wallace says I've built a fetish for Adam. That I've idolized him out of reality or truth...and I wonder if he's right. If it ever was as perfect as I remember. What do you think? Do you think that's what I did?
SETSUKO: You loved your Quebecois, yes?

DAIR: I...I don’t know, anymore. I wonder if I loved him...or just love the memory of him...

SETSUKO: I cannot answer that for you. I know only that we are in this life for so short a time, it is sad to spend it staring out a window wondering what people will think.

DAIR: I never did that.

SETSUKO: Then why did you ask me such a question?

DAIR: Because I...I want to believe I loved him...and because I miss him so fucking much.

He begins to cry. Setsuko goes to him and caresses his face, like you would a child.

SETSUKO: Then you have provided your own answer.
I think this is the core of the story, now. Dair was so shattered by Adam's death and the events that followed, he no longer trusts his own feelings or instincts. He questions himself. He seeks safe harbor. He's lost his art. His reason to be. He has to find himself, again...
Every artist needs to find himself...

Interesting direction for DW

I've found this story is being told both in first and third person...which should be interesting to see if I can pull it off. Adam is telling part of the tale, digging into his relationship with Dair, as the current-day part of the story is told in omniscient style. Sort of. I don't think I'll go quite as omniscient as I did with Adam in A65...but you never know till it's done.

Then there's also an Adam in this story. I thought about changing his name, but he let me know he'll fight me...and it's really not that big a deal. I've also realized that certain people I only referred to in the script now must be part of the events -- like Dair's brother and sister-in-law. She's born-again and dislikes Dair because he's gay and non-religious. She doesn't want him around the three daughters she has with his brother. His brother is pussy-whipped.

The nieces have to be part of this, too, so needed names. And I'm building up how Dair and Adam got together in the first place instead of just indicating it. Keeping them a few years apart in age works well, but this time with Dair older while Adam is wiser about the world. I'll also need to bring his parents into the mess, since they play a huge part of the story in the five years after Adam's death.

Man, already it's expanding. Chapter One is at 7 pages and probably going to expand more. And I'm titling these chapters.

I started a sketch of Adam, not using the photo I posted yesterday but another that is more indicative of his reality. It's wary, a bit defensive, and careful. I don't like the hair in it so will be changing that, but the rest of his face is just right...including the scruff on his chin.

I've been writing standing up and while my feet don't like it, the rest of my body does. Which is odd. But I spend too much time seated at a desk when I'm in the office, and Monday and Tuesday I'll be on my feet all day working at Christies in NYC, so it's also good preparation. And I've worked in the dark. The keyboard lights up and I'm not working off notes, so it's actually quite soothing. And my eyes feel better, at the end of the day.

Ah, the joys of learning after years of thinking you had it all down pat.

I made a decision and then didn't...

One of the joys of writing is when your characters begin to argue with you. I thought I had the image to use in my head for Adam -- a Balkan model named Teofil Brank. He's got the right look and mix of beauty and wariness...but he's currently serving time at Vacaville for extortion. The whole thing sounded weird...more like a poor understanding of English and how people in foreign countries act...but he's had his appeals turned down so I decided I needed to back away from him.

Then I thought of a French model named Arnaud Dehaynin, who's older than Adam would have been but is off-beat enough to be right. He's more vulnerable and already has the proper lineage...and I knew I could make him look younger with a bit of touching up in Photoshop.

Well...Adam didn't like that. He didn't flat out say no, but I couldn't get Arnaud to look right when I put him through CS's rather limited stained glass filter. Then when I had it close enough to work, he came snarking in to say he's better-looking than that and doesn't care about Teofil's history. He also reminded me that Dair catches him sneaking money out of his wallet and misusing a store charge...so a hint of criminality works for his character.

We had a nice little back and forth before I finally gave in and will use this photo as him...and that is something I need in order for my characters to function in my head -- an image. I have the music -- Enigma -- and I know what Dair, Jacob, Setsuko and Wallace look like; but Adam is the most important one to get right. I think my first instinct should have been my final one.

I also wasn't crazy about his last name so went seeking another...and it took a bit but we settled on LÉCUYER, which means a shield-bearer...which is what Adam becomes. Ferrier is too bland a name and doesn't really mean anything. He let me have that...but only because he liked it, too.

Sometimes the characters I meet in my head can be little shits.