Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 30

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, 67a. Gayb. Archivistc. Semi-retiredd. Lives in Buffalo, NY

2. Frank Paley, 30a. Cop for Barrington Townshipb. Powerbuilderc. Straight, he says 

3. Brian Walstead, 32a. Assistant District Attorneyb. Very good-lookingc. Divorced 

4. Elissa Manville, 30a. Walstead’s second chairb. Rubenesque but prettyc. Boyfriend not very attentive 

5. Judge Oliver Denton, 49a. Municipal Courtb. Distinguished but right wingc. Married, 5 daughters, three grandchildren 

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

7. Raymond Harver, 54a. District Attorneyb. Self-satisfied about selfc. 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...