Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 214

It works out when you let it...

I was worried about some cross-action between Lemm and Tone, but it turned out to be more about how bland the whole moment was. By intensifying it...and letting Jake make a mistake, causing him to be an asshole...it came out much better.

I've been finding on this draft that I'm trying to do that to the descriptions when things get tight and worrisome for Jake. It's no longer the simple he did this and the other guy did that kind of back and forth, like in Hemingway's work; I'm trying to inject the characters' emotion into the bits. Like when Jake realizes someone who's been his enemy is being set up. Before, it was explained by him. Now? It confuses him and makes him rethink his ideas about what's going on, and he makes a wrong assumption, causing someone else severe emotional pain...but helping him figure out the truth.

Jake's never been perfect, but now I think he's flawed in a believable way. And the plan is for him to use those flaws to his advantage, when he can, because that's what helps him finally reveal what's going on.

I think one of the reasons I so loved the Prime Suspect Series was how Jane Tennyson was human in them. She's smart but sometimes makes stupid mistakes for nonsensical reasons, like all of us do. That's also part of the reason I stopped watching the Law & Order series. The actors in it were placemats for the dialogue, not people.

It's the same in books; I hate set-up stories, where you're being told to feel a certain way...like in the novels of Russell Banks. Of course, I have a tendency to do that, myself...mainly so people know what I mean when I write the piece...but what I'm doing now is gutting that as much as I can. I like it more when you can decide for yourself if you like or dislike Jake and Tone and Matt and such. Makes the story more yours as you read it...I hope...

I'm not perfect at it, yet, but I'm trying...

Zones-ville...

Mmmmm...not an easy day. Arrived into Boston half an hour late on the redeye from Seattle then had to drive 100 miles up to Maine. In a thick misty fog that sometimes shifted to rain. Hell, looking out the windows of the plane, I couldn't tell we were landing until the wheels hit the ground. And getting away from Boston's Airport is a nightmare. I don't want to think about how much fun it will be returning, tomorrow.

I stopped twice for quickie naps because I was drifting as I drove. I got to the hotel early but they let me check in so I grabbed an hour's more sleep...then ran out to visit the location of the pickup then got dinner and came back to the hotel and got to work on OT...and decided one bit just isn't working, anymore.

Fortunately, it only means rewriting about 5 pages...but I'm vacillating on which direction to take it. Do I let Antony get involved or keep it as is, with Lemm thinking he's helping and actually hurting Jake's plans? I may wind up tossing a coin, because it works well either way. Dammit. Maybe there's a third way...

Seems I'm a week too early for the fall extravaganza. A lot of trees are turning but the majority are still green. I'll download the pictures I took when I'm back in Buffalo; I want to see if tomorrow's any better. Today was drizzly and gray and it's hard for colors to shine under those circumstances.

At least I got a decent view from my hotel. It's up on a hill, and in one direction is the 95, but looking to the left is a pond and trees. All new, it seems, and very nice. Just not close to anyplace to eat. But I have a microwave and there was a grocery store near the job site, so I went the cheap route and nuked my one meal, today.

Now I think I'm going to sit in a tub and drift, in a safe manner...

Less is more...

The first two sections of OT are set, and I've cut them down to 231 pages and under 54,000 words...mainly by just eliminating repetition and moments where Jake tells us what's going on, even though it's obvious. If I keep doing this through the next two sections, I may wind up with under 500 double-spaced pages and maybe 110,000 words.

Of course, I've added in a bit, as well, to increase the clarification, and the removal Jake's disapproval of one aspect of what Owen's done works a lot better. He was coming across as a bit too judgmental, and that is not what Jake should ever be...at least, not on something trivial.

The book fair went smoothly, and prepping the shipments, today, was done fairly quickly. I've been trying to keep to an east coast timeframe, so I got done just in time to have an early dinner at the airport. For some reason, I was craving a burger and fries. Fortunately, there's a Chili's here, albeit at the other end of the terminal, but it was worth the walk. Their avocado burger had sour cream, lightly seared peppers and caramelized onions, and was to die for.

My redeye's not for a couple more hours, and already it's posted as delayed twenty minutes. Not that I mind; the later I get into Boston, the later I get to my hotel and the easier it will be to get an early check-in...and nap. I can't sleep on a plane, just doze and that's not really enough. I shouldn't have any trouble getting up to Portland. And I'm hoping the leaves are really turning by now...if they haven't already and fallen off.

I'm not looking forward to this next job; it will be very physical with lots of stairs. But if all goes well I should be home in time, Wednesday, to get a good night's sleep. All depends on JetBlue.

Hmm...maybe I shouldn't have said that...

The new, improved opening to OT...

Just to give everyone an idea of where I'm heading...and I will not be rewriting this...unless you find a typo...
------------
"Jake, why do you stick with Tone?"

It was my stepmother, Mira, asking during a stop in Paris to see her, and it was the second question in less than an hour to come at me weird.

The first was a five-word text sent to my European SIM card number by my Uncle Owen -- Jake, why haven't you come? Like I hadn't shown up to a party of his or dropped by when I said I would. Like I didn't live in the middle of goddam Texas while he was in Palm Springs. Like he didn't have my American contact info, so if he really did need to get hold of me for some reason, he could have called; then I could have been by his side the same day. But to send it to a number I don't use except when I'm in France or Denmark? Four weeks ago? The day after my last trip to Copenhagen? That made no sense.

Of course, I called him the second I was done with French Customs -- about midnight his time. I got dropped straight to voicemail, and it was too full to accept more messages. Which was not untypical for him, so I sent him an e-mail. It bounced back. That was a-typical, but Mira was waiting so all I could do was text him to call me when he woke up. With that on my mind, not to mention a winter storm blowing in that might delay my connection and mess with my schedule, I did not need any crap from my father's second wife.

Of course, what she really asked was, “Iacob, what is your loyalty with this man, Antony?” She always calls me by my Persian name, and I'm the only one allowed to call my guy Tone. Plus, English is her third language after Farsi and French, so she's always going to sound more formal. We were having an early lunch at an Indian café near De Gaulle, in one of those thousand year-old homes where even the whitewashed stone walls creaked, so I loaded some Aloo Matar into my mouth to give me a chance to think.

She continued on with, “Do you remain beside him because others say you should not? Are you to be stubborn, in the way of your father?"

"Mira, what the hell?" I'd snarled, still half-chewing. "I love Tone."

"It is not love to remain with someone when it is to your own detriment; it is self-loathing."

Oh...typical psychologist; Here's your box, little man, and aren't you ashamed for being in it? I wondered if she analyzed my half-brothers-and-sisters in the same way...and figured, probably.

I swallowed, sipped my beer, took a breath and snarled, “Psycho-lady...q’est-çe que c’est?” Tried to joke; didn't work.

Her expression turned quizzical, like she was thinking, This lab rat was smart, once upon a time, so why is he screwing up on the maze leading to the cheese? "Has Antony told you all that he has done?”

On that? Probably not. I knew more about him than anyone, but even I didn't know it all. I doubt anyone ever will. That didn't stop people from wondering, If he's not an open book, why do you trust him? Well...in the last 10 years I'd met too many open books perfectly willing to stab you in the back to let myself get dragged down that road, so I pushed my plate aside, leaned against the table, folded my hands, looked her straight in the eyes and asked, “Mira...what. Is this really. About?”

She hesitated then took a sip of her wine. Burgundy with a salad; there's something wrong about that.

"I apologize," she said. "I am too used to being clinical with my patients. What is the American phrase? We are to be cutting the shit?"

"That's one way o' puttin' it." Spoken in my twangiest twang with my goofiest grin.

She looked straight at me. “Your mother has contacted your father. Twice...that I know of.”

And goofball left the building. I got real still. “So?”

“The telephone calls referred to you and your uncle, Owen Taylor. As I understand what has happened, he has vanished. She wishes to speak with him and asks Faraz to use his influence to bring forth an investigation."

My appetite dropped to zero, because my dad was handing her a pile of crap. First off, my uncle wasn't the kind who'd just disappear; my mother was. I can't tell you the number of times I'd get dumped at Nana's so she could run off to some hunting trip or seminar or church retreat, while we always knew where Uncle Owen was, even if he wasn't in constant contact. Second, he was mom's half-brother by Nana's second marriage, and mom did not give one single solitary damn about him. Why? Because he was gay. In fact, she blamed him for me choosing to go that way and be of the devil, something she'd actually screamed at me before kicking me out of the house. But now she was calling her hated ex-husband about her hated brother because she can't find him? No way in hell.

"Mira, Uncle Owen's in California; my father's based in France. What kind of influence can he have?"

She gave me that maze-rat-screwed-up look, again. "Faraz owns property there. Some in partnership with your uncle."

Which I did not know. "Which means he has all of his contact information. So what'd he find out?"

She hesitated. "He was unable to learn anything."

Wait...my father, with all his resources, couldn't locate my uncle? Not good, times ten.

At the airport in a JetBlue delay...

There are a lot of things I like about Jet Blue, but consistently being on time ain't one of 'em. I'd say half the time their planes are delayed, occasionally to the point I miss an appointment or a connection. As of now, I should easily make my flight in Boston...but you never know. The flight out of Buffalo went from a 20 minute delay to a 40 minute to now nearly an hour.

They aren't the only airline to have this trouble. The later it gets in the day the more likely Southwest will be delayed, too. And United has consistently caused me trouble, to the point I do not want to even think of flying them. That's half the reason I'm using Cathay out of Toronto; twice on international flights I've missed my connection at Newark thanks to them -- once to Hong Kong and once to Lisbon.

I wish I had more time to do the travel; then I'd go by train or just drive. It's already easier to go that route down to NYC. And you don't have to hassle with the TSA and their squirrelly requirements. The only positive, right now, is as soon as I post this, I'm jumping back onto OT. Can't do that while driving.

At least, you can't till we have driverless cars...

Preparations...

I did as much as I could on OT, today, then began to zone. It will be done by the end of the month. Period. Including letting it sit then going through it to proof for typos before sending it out. Then I'm getting onto NaNoWriMo.

I've set myself up for the 2015 challenge, and I'm doing Underground Guy. I've got it plotted out and sort of started, so I'm not working from zero. And it will give me the impetus to finish a draft. I've even worked up a possible cover. Not the best I've ever done but a beginning.

I'm kind of itching to get back to work with Devlin, Reg, and Tawfi. They're such a disparate trio -- Devlin a rapist finding out he can't justify his actions, anymore; Reg a decent cop who's married and thinks he's aware but find he isn't; and Tawfi the epitome of style, sophistication and entitlement who believes himself immune to human reality...but isn't.

Each already has his own voice and is willing to lead me places; I've been putting them off till I got done with OT. Now I can set the date to rejoin their conversation...November 1st. It won't be easy and I may not make it, but I'll have a good start and a nice long round-trip to Hong Kong to focus on it, because according to Cathay's website, my plane has an AC outlet under the seat.

If you gots the power, you gots to use it...

Enough is enough...

I've been smashing my head against the wall of OT for too long; it's time for the book to be finished. So from now on, I'm not rewriting anything except to correct typos or inconsistencies. I've fallen into my old trap of reworking the story down to the point where I'm changing a single word on a page...then the next day changing it back. That's not writing; that's psychosis.

So I'm giving myself till the end of the month to finish this draft and send it out for a second beta-read. It's almost like a new book, as compared to the original draft I sent...and copyrighted. Almost. The same basic structure is there, as are the vast majority of characters and events. I just dropped the lecturing, which I'm sure no one will miss, and made Jake's search for his uncle more important to him.

I had one beta-reader dismiss the "disappearing uncle" bit as meaningless. "People disappear all the time," he said. And he's right about that...but that's beside the point. Jake goes looking for his uncle because the man backed him up when he was outed and kicked out of his home and went to jail. Owen means something to Jake, and my lead's not the kind of guy who will just shrug important things off.

Another reader noted that Jake makes some easy connections between things, and she was right. So I'm trying to make his knowledge and awareness and realizations grow organically from the situation and his research. He's got Tone and Matt to back him up and gather info for him to process; he doesn't need to be brilliant.

Nor do I, really...which is hard for me to accept...

Movie Therapy

The first time I saw a Hitchcock film in a theater, it was a double-bill of Rebecca and Notorious. I went back to my roots to get past the mood I'm in...and now I'm back on track.

I have Notorious on DVD, but you can see it all on YouTube. The scene on the balcony, where Cary Grant tells Ingrid Bergman what's expected of her, is one of the most subtly vicious moments ever in film. Because without saying it once, she's told by the man she loves she has to have sex with another man, and if she does, he will hate her but if she doesn't, she will let down her country...and the decision is hers to make. So no matter which way it goes, she loses.

Ben Hecht wrote the script...and it is damn near perfection.

In a bad place, right now...

I got nothing done on OT during this round of jobs, and Saturday I'm off to Seattle then Boston in what promises to be a lot of tough work so doubt I'll get anything more done. I don't know what it was, but I could not focus my thoughts during this drive -- 1270 miles in 3 days. No radio. But my brain still wandered all over the place. Drove through some nice country with the leaves just beginning to turn, but it was all the sort of Oh, that's nice in passing kind of enjoyment...which is minimal.

Maybe a lot of this has to do with me not eating right during this trip. I don't really do breakfast and I've skipped lunch twice, nibbling on crackers and DP to make do till dinner because I wanted to keep to my schedule. Get in, get out, get on with my life...and I managed to work it okay. But I now feel very on edge and unsure of what to do next.

Then I got home and found La Quinta's being a pain in the ass, again. Seems lately any time I have to change a reservation with them, it gets screwed up. I got billed for an extra $158 for my stay in NYC, last week, because they say I didn't tell them I was only staying 4 nights instead of 6. Fortunately, I hadn't trashed the updated reservation, yet, so I can send them that in the morning, but it's irritating as hell and shouldn't be necessary.

Then the hotel I stayed at in New Haven didn't factor in my AAA discount even though they have my AAA card and it was worked in on the sheet when I signed in. But I stupidly didn't check it when I got my receipt, this morning, so I got billed the full rate.

Then I called my brother in San Antonio and found out he will need cataract surgery...and that my nephew is having problems with the latest house he's trying to renovate and sell...and that little bro' had a near run-in with the cops because a CVS employee thought he was homeless and ordered him out of the store. He was there to buy a soda and said so. They got into an argument and the clerk called the cops...who agreed he looked homeless. He'd been working that day, in construction, and showed the cops he had money on him. He was just dirty from the job. Made no difference; they told stay away from CVS.

And on top of it all, the world is supposed to end, tomorrow, according to this doomsday cult who've only made the same damned prediction three times before. Maybe I'm just reacting to the growing insanity of the world...I dunno...I just feel like I'm ready to run amok and tear at my hair as I scream wild obscenities at life in general...

...Still clothed; I'm not that crazy...yet...

First hints of winter...

Driving from Buffalo to Washington was nice, for the most part. The only bad moments came from drivers who seemed unwilling to consider others on the road and a jerk who ignored a "lane closed" notice until he had no choice but to move over, then forced himself into my lane two cars ahead of me. He was in a Mercedes, so I guess manners don't apply to people like him.

Anyway, I came down the 390 and along the 15 to connect with the 83 to hit Baltimore and then did the Washington Parkway into DC. It's hilly till you hit the Susquehanna River, and the trees are starting to turn Fall colors. Now instead of huge blocks of greenery, I saw the beginnings of patchworks of red and gold and orange and brown and crimson and yellow and even some blue. It's nowhere near its peak; my hope is when I come back from Seattle into Boston and drive up to Portland, Maine, I'll get the full effect.

Damn...that's a week from tomorrow. I'll be taking lots of pictures then, I hope. Today was not a day for stopping, however; I wanted to get to the hotel by dinnertime. As it was, I didn't eat till 8pm...but it was a damn good 5 cheese lasagna with meat sauce. Which is amazing considering my hotel is not on the street it claims its address is on...and which GPS led me to...even though all the street signs say it's a different street.

I'm somewhat used to streets changing names from one block to the next. And part of Robertson has numbers in the 200s on one side of the street while on the other side they're in the 800s, or something like that...because on one side is Beverly Hills and on the other is Los Angeles. But to claim a street is what it isn't? That's fresh.

Sometimes when I go to other cities I feel as if I'm participating in an absurdist comedy.