Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 66

BA is up and running...

I finished the files to upload for Smashwords so went ahead and did it. Playing it safe, in case there was an issue. And there was, but with the cover instead of the file, itself. Seems their secondary team didn't like the tan-line in the initial version, or the hint of a nipple. So I redid it like this, and they were fine with that.

So Blood Angel-Book Two-The Prussian is now available in ebook on Smashwords. $0.99 and doable in any number of formats, including Kindle Reader. They say it's 22,600+ words, which is close to what I thought it was. It also has the opening chapter of Bobby Carapisi at the end, if anyone wants to read that.

Glad it's done with. If anyone's interested in reading Book One beforehand, there's the link.

I got some books written by Grant Atherton to read -- gay murder mysteries that look like they were shifted from Kindle ebooks into paperbacks. Not at all professional-looking, but it's the story that counts. Not my pickiness in formatting. And I liked his first book, Slow Road to Hell. So I'm taking Dead Feint on the plane to read.

It's also time to renew my passport so I'm getting that ready to send off, tomorrow. I still need to get photos made for the application, at Walgreens. I'm going to feel a bit naked without it. I've got a Nexus Card so can get into Canada and Mexico, if I want. But having that little blue book just made me feel better. Like I could hop over to the UK or Ireland at a moment's notice, if I wanted. Hopefully, they'll get it back to me in less than the six months they're saying it will take.

I also have to get paperwork from Caladex for the job in Nebraska and some milk and bread, so tomorrow's going to be on the busy side. Then Friday is a CAT scan of my gut and a camera going up my dick to check out my bladder. Been through that, before, and not happy about it.

I wanna be 23, again, and not be falling apart.

Panic time

So I'm rocking along to finish this proofing of BA-The Prussian when I got a message some books I'd ordered had been delivered. I went downstairs to get them from the building office and picked up my mail...and in it was a notice that I owed nearly $380 in back taxes, including late fees and interest!

At first I thought it was a scam, but I went into my account page with the IRS, and there it was, claiming I hadn't paid my taxes for 2020. I freaked. Called the IRS, who hung up on me after following a few voice prompts. And there was nothing in the IRS system to let me contact them by email to ask about this. It was infuriating.

I knew I'd paid everything off, so dug up my receipt from June of last year and it showed my account was down to zero for 2019, 2020 and 2021. I'd received no letters from the IRS claiming this was an issue. Nothing. So I wrote them back and told them I'd paid it, here's a copy of my receipt, so update your records. Then mailed it, certified, so I can prove I sent it. This should prove interesting.

What's really irritating about this is, I use a CPA to do my taxes. So they should be perfect, when submitted. But this is the second problem I've had with a recent return thanks to that office. I may need to find a new CPA. 

That took most of the afternoon. And since I had to go to the PO, I also got a couple things at Tops grocery store and planned to have a chili dog and onion rings at Ted's, a local chain...but there was a line and I wasn't in the mood to stand around so came home and made Gnocchi, instead. It was good...but I still want a chili dog.

Then I focused on BA and got through it. I'll do the linking for table of contents, tomorrow, and maybe even upload it tomorrow evening to see if it's okay. Smashwords is pretty picky about things being just so, as I've found out the hard way a few times. It's now 22,750 words. For all the cutting I did, I added more.

But now it's done and soon to be available, and I'll worry about Book 3 -- Franz later.

Today was wrongfully busy...

I spent the day prepping for a quick trip to Lincoln, Nebraska, of all places. Never been to that state; it's another one of those places I would never have gone to except for work, like Bermuda and Hong Kong and Boise, Idaho. So I have now had jobs in or lived in 12 countries around the world and 45 of the 50 American states. The only ones left are South Dakota, Montana, Kentucky, Tennessee and Alaska.

It's not a huge job -- collecting boxes of archives to pack into reusable containers for transport to the East Coast -- but logistics-wise this one is difficult. At first, I thought I'd be spending 2 days in Lincoln, which is both the state capitol and a university town (like Austin) but that was growing harder and harder to work around. I'd have had to do absolutely everything on my own, and some aspects of setting up the reusable containers requires two people.

Instead, we're working everything out of Omaha. We found a trucker up there, so I'll be shifting back there after the pickup and do my thing at the trucker's warehouse. Like I did in Hartford, the beginning of the month. Fly out the next morning. Just time enough to hit the gift shop in the airport. But...they do have Panda Express.

So I want to get BA-The Prussian up and running on Smashwords before I go. I'm halfway done proofing it. I shifted it into 24 point font and that's helped me see a number of issues, like missing periods and double commas and words that need another letter in them to make sense. I also used the wrong word a few times, which might cause confusion, and I still need to shift the double-dashes to an em-dash.

If I focus on it, tomorrow, I should be done and ready to link the chapter headings to the table of contents by Wednesday. Once that's done, it's upload and see how Smashwords likes it.

Getting there...

It looks like I'll have plenty of feedback on APoS by the end of the month and can shift my focus to making corrections and clarifications (as needed), after Labor Day. I am getting more and more ready to start back on it, and once BA's 2nd book is done with plan to do some more reading about the times. Just to refresh my memory.

What's interesting about APoS is how it's shown me the animalistic nature of men is never far from the surface in too many people. The casual cruelty and sadistic actions of the MAGAt crowd in the US is just the latest iteration of human hatefulness. What the Nazis did with the Final Solution. What whites did against for centuries, let alone after the Civil war. What Serbs did to Bosnian Muslims after the collapse of Yugoslavia. What Russia did to all of her neighbors throughout her history. And what the British did to Irish Catholics, not just in Northern Ireland. All of it fits the pattern of brutal violence perpetrated by supposedly civilized human beings.

There were reports that British Army and Protestants in Northern Ireland laughed at the deaths of Catholic men and boys. Constables made jokes and sang after Bloody Sunday. Paratroopers treated the bodies of the dead like sacks of potatoes. Then they'd get really angry when any form of revenge was taken.

What's happening in Ukraine, with Russia bombing homes and markets and town squares and schools and hospitals, is only furthering the idea that man is not a decent creature. Just seeing what Republicans and the cultists of that orange bastard are doing to this country proves it. We are one step away from the jungle, and too damn many want us to return there.

It helps to keep this in mind as I tell about Léonidès' cold-blooded actions in Blood Angel.

More of chapter 3

Continuing from what I posted, yesterday...and I'm now using Kirill Dowidoff, a Russian model, as Dmitriy's image.

-----

The trees were even thicker, here, but then we came upon a clearing and there was the brook. It was wide and rushing down the side of a hill over a tumble of stones into a small pool that was so clean and clear, you could see through to its bed. Little silt, flowing reeds and moss, the water not still but hurrying between some exposed rock to dance the rest of the way down, as if playing. Probably the same stream in which I'd bathed Helffing. 

Franz smiled at seeing it. He sat on a large rock and I helped him remove his boots, then he carefully waded into the pool, leading Grünnald. The water came up to his hips, soaking his trousers. He slowly, painfully pulled off his shirt to reveal a torso sculpted by the gods. Trim where it counted, full where it mattered. I could see the entry of a bullet in his left shoulder but no exit. It was still in him. That would need to be taken care of or it would fester. 

He dipped his shirt into the water then pressed it to the wound on his head. Seeing bloody water trail down his taut body through the waves of soft down over his chest made me so very determined to have him agree to join me.

Choose to.

Gabrielle had mentioned this was a necessity for the ultimate level of attachment to happen. So I wanted him to want me, and the thought took a near obsessive hold of me.

Finally, he wet the shirt, again, to daub at the animal's wound as I quickly found some yarrow at the edge of the clearing and worked the flowers into a bit of mud, to make a poultice. He accepted it and applied it to the horse's injury. Grünnald remained quiet and easy, throughout.Finally, he led the horse out of the pool and tethered him to a tree. He began to graze, and that made Franz smile. 

"Thank you," he said to me. "I think he will be well, now." 

By the heavens, the way his trousers clung to his thighs and calves. And around his ass. And outlined the bulge in his crotch. I found it difficult to concentrate on words, but I managed to say, "Your turn." 

He collapsed to where he was cross-legged and slightly hunched over. "Are you? You a surgeon?" 

"I know enough medicine to help you." 

"I'm so very tired," he murmured, rocking back and forth in near delirium. 

I didn't think. I quickly shifted him to an area of grass, next to the rushing brook, and lay him flat, his arms crossed over his belly. His trousers clinging to his hips and thighs and calves, enhancing their perfect beauty. His skin still hinted at warmth and shades of gold, despite the near darkness. His chest so full and rich, with nipples in perfect harmony. His crotch even more inviting. I was almost frozen by the sudden pounding need within me, as if I hadn't fed or taken pleasure in months instead of just two hours prior. I knew that if I had seen him before Helffing, he would be in the process of turning, now, and I would be bringing the anger of the Oiym down on me. 

Only once before had I experienced anything even close to this rush of want and need and desire and joy. It was when my pack and I had followed Napoleon's march to Russia, feasting like the followers of Bacchus might have on his rag-tag army. French men can be beautiful, but to have called this crowd of snarling peasants even human would have been a compliment. So whatever pleasures were needed by my lads, we took with each other, after feeding. 

We had reached the outskirts of Moscow, and I had sensed Gabrielle was already there, with her court. Of course. She was far more opportunistic and ruthless than I. Always had been. Had always disliked me, for some reason, and I had no idea why. Nor any interest in knowing. I simply chose not to suffer her disdain, so we had not crossed paths since we both had been called before the Oiym, more than seven hundred years earlier. 

But then one evening I was atop a roof watching the panicked population, far below. Terrified little rabbits fearing the worst so racing out into the snow-covered land. Not yet knowing, as I did, that Napoleon's forces were spent. They would barely be able to work up the energy to loot, let alone do any raping or ravaging. It was almost pathetic. 

I wasn't hungry, having fed on a Russian guardsman who had shot three people for no reason. Something else that happens far too regularly in war. I was merely curious. Idle about it. Taken by the beauty of a light snow drifting down in contrast to darkened buildings. So I didn't notice Gabrielle was behind me until she cooed, "Greetings, baby brother." 

I hate it when she calls me that.I spun to face her...and gasped at seeing an impossibly good-looking man standing next to her. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Exquisitely proportioned. Eyes as deep and dark as the ocean. And secretly Jewish, to my surprise, because he was of the same lineage as Gabrielle and myself. 

Of course she noticed my interest, the little bitch. That was why she brought him. 

"I take it you approve of my new companion?" Her voice dripping with condescension. And also letting me quickly know he was not mine to have. "This is Dmitriy." She turned and almost sneered at him, saying, in French, "And this is Léonidès, my baby brother." 

Baby brother. She was twenty-two years old when Prior Pious turned her. I was almost twenty-three. But to be fair, I wasn't turned until six years after her. 

Dmitriy had clicked his heels and bowed, showing he was very well-bred and, without question, was more than pleased to see me. 

Which had brought a lovely sneer to Gabrielle's lips."Yes, as I thought," she'd half-growled. 

I had never bothered trying to follow my sister's shifts in emotion, so I'd ignored the comment and offered him as glorious a smile as I could, saying in French, "You're one of us." 

"He's one of you," Gabrielle had snapped. 

Dmitriy had cast her cool glance and added, "But only recently."

It seemed Gabrielle had sensed a fellow Blood Angel in the midst of the city's chaos, the night before my pack and I had arrived, and allowed him to seduce her. She had turned him as he ejaculated inside her. That bound him to her, forever. Which would have been well and good except for one small problem. 

His true nature was aimed towards men. 

He'd been sleeping with women to help himself deny this. Once he was turned, all lies were cast aside, and he could not sleep with her, again. 

"I tried," Dmitriy had said, "but could not rise to the occasion, no matter how many lies I told myself." 

"It was a mistake on my part," Gabrielle had admitted, albeit reluctantly. "I was so positive he was the one for me, I neglected to follow the full ritual. Which would have prevented the situation." 

"What ritual?" I'd asked.

"You truly are ill-informed." Spoken in our Norman dialect, and with more than a little exasperation. 

That was ill-mannered to do in front of Dmitriy since he could not have understood it. Our father had been insistent that, for example, when a Saxon was around we spoke only in the Saxon English. It was inclusive, and rude not to do.

"I know all I need to know," I'd snapped back. 

Dmitriy had caught the anger between us and carefully made certain Gabrielle did not see his little smirk. A smirk that looked perfect on his perfect face.

-----

BTW, this is how I now picture Léonidès. It works better, overall.

And Kirill's Jewish.

The closest I've come to an image for Gabrielle is Eliza Dushku, when she was in Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. Seemed appropriate, but I can't use it so...

Blood Angel-Book Two, The Prussian

This is chapter three of this section of Blood Angel. Léonidès has seen Franz and is infatuated with him, like a schoolyard crush. He's decided to do all he can to convince the young man he should join him as a Blood Angel.
I also did some shuffling of images I'm using to picture the characters, and I've modeled Franz after Derrick Davenport.
---------
THREEA CASUAL MEETINGI jumped down to a curve in the road then casually strolled back towards Franz. Hands in pockets to show my contempt for convention.He saw me, forced himself to straighten up, and drew his sword. It was a beauty. Sharp and gleaming. Well-honed and laced with the blood of many Frenchmen, I was sure. I wanted to touch it. Caress it. Fondle it, if you will. You can learn so much about a man through his sword. 
He took a wary stance next to his horse, almost holding his breath. 
I smiled at him and said, in a perfect Hamburg dialect, "Hello, what a lovely day it has been." 
He gave me a vague shrug of confusion. "If you say. Are you German?" 
I laughed. "What else could I be?" 
"We are in France." 
I shrugged. "What are boundaries, today? You've been badly hurt. Were you part of the fighting, a couple leagues over?" 
He looked around, shocked. "Are we that far from it?" 
"Don't you know where you are?" 
He grew weak, again, and leaned against his horse. "I...no, I do not." 
"Your horse is also injured. There is a creek just the other side of these trees. Why don't we go there? Clean off the blood. See if I can find some yarrow root." 
"I...I must get back. To my regiment." 
"Night is falling, and you will not get very far in this condition. Come. Let's clean you up, first. I am Léonidès Taillis." 
He almost smiled. "From the Greek." 
"You know of the legend?" 
"Yes. My teachers. Greek. Latin. History." 
I switched to Latin. "So you know the classical tongues?" 
He responded in Latin that was better than mine. "It is part of my education. I am...I am Franz." 
No last name offered. Being cagey. I like that in a man. I switched back to German. "A pleasure to meet you, Franz. Now come, wouldn't fresh water make you feel better?" 
"I don't know. I suppose. But to leave the road. The brush is very thick. Will Grünnald would be able to make it." 
"Is that the name of your horse?" He nodded. "You're a cuirassier, aren't you?" 
He nodded. "The rest. The rest of my company is...is..." He pointed up the road. 
I chuckled to myself. The battlefield was at least four leagues away. And his regiment? I did not want him to be part of them, any longer, because I already knew that some had comported themselves in ways cruel, though not at all unusual. Women and girls raped. Villagers killed for daring to try and protect them. Stores of food looted. It was so typical of war. For a moment, I wondered if he had joined in their festivities.His sword would tell me. 
Then my ear caught the approach of a group of horsemen, from behind him. French chevaliers, to judge by their chatter. If they saw him, he would be the one put to the sword.So I grinned and said, "Come. I know of a path to the brook, and yarrow will help both you and Grünnald to heal." 
"You think so?" 
Concern for his horse overrode concern for himself.No, without question I could not allow him to rejoin his compatriots. He was of too fine a character, and they would corrupt him into their evil. Probably. I have to admit that while part of me thought he would never commit rape or murder, a little voice added that it would not be because they were wrong to do but only that it was ill-mannered. 
"Come," I said. "Keep your sword out, if it makes you feel better. I will lead."Then I backed into the woods. I caught a glimpse of Gregory across the road, smirking at me. And rubbing his groin. I cast him a quick sneer then turned to watch where I was going. 
Franz followed, carefully. Not fast, for Grünnald was limping, badly. I quickly found the trail, and had to admit the wood was thicker than I had expected. But that worked out well, for not two minutes later, he heard the soft clatter of horses galloping past on the road.He hesitated, listening. We couldn't see them, but he could tell. 
"Five -- no, six horse-men." 
"Probably French." 
"Did the battle go poorly, for us?" 
"Considering you were outnumbered six to one, I would not say that." 
"But you know the outcome?" 
"The fighting has only slowed. It's not over, yet." 
He looked around, close to frantic. "I should be with the rest of my men!" 
"Your men? That's not a commander's insignia on your jacket." 
He nodded. "I brought friends. From home. Men who worked our lands. I...I'm responsible for them." 
He was caught with worry and heartache. It took me a moment to speak, his face was so angelic in the soft light of dusk filtering between the thick trees."I'm sure they're all right," I said.In response, he gave me a weak shrug that all but screamed, Maybe. Maybe not. So I had to ask, "Are your friends also of the aristocracy?" 
He cast me a sharp glare. "What makes you think I'm high-born?" 
"The way you speak, your education, and how you comport yourself. Tell me, have you read Cicero's De Re Publica? OR Ovid's Poetics? In Latin, of course." 
"Are you well-born?" 
"Would I have been given access to such an education were I not?" 
He huffed and held his sword tighter. "Who are you? What is going on here? Are you leading me into a trap? To hold me for ransom? My family will not pay." 
"No, no, no," I said. "I do not know who you are. I am only offering help. Don't you hear the brook, now? Cold clear water beckons you. It will refresh you." 
The splashing water was just audible and the shadows were growing deeper. Stars hinted at an appearance, to the east.He nodded and forced himself to stay alert, keeping his sword at the ready as I led him on.

So this will be the avatar for Blood Angel's next install...

So this will be the avatar for Blood Angel's next installment. I'd purchased several photos from Dan Skinner to use but  none were working for me until I did some squirrelly adapting of this image in my ancient photoshop. This wasn't exactly what came up, but it set me on the right path. And the image for the following installment is already settled on...depending on how explicit I want it to be.

I still need to do the proofing. My usual editor is snowed under so I'll just do my thing and deal with it in my usual way. The nice thing is it's an ebook so if I do find typos later...and I will, I know; I've never published anything without some...I can update the file with no trouble.

There's a darkness showing up in this story that's discomforting in its casualness. Mainly dealing with how off-handed many of the deaths referenced in it are. I'm told I'm overly empathetic, so that might be the reason it's bothering me. But am I really? If I can have a murderer raped and killed in the first 15 pages of the story and have not only his body but that of his victim buried without a thought, maybe deep down I'm just a fucking lunatic waiting for the right moment to escape. You never know until you know.

I'm sticking with my schedule for APoS still. Not reading any feedback till after Labor Day, then slamming back into it. That should give me plenty of time to decompress and view it with a bit more critical eye. By that, I mean not tearing myself apart for writing it but checking grammar and consistency and that it's proper in its depiction of the times, in Derry.

Once that's got its polish, I'm hitting the Houston section. I think that one's pretty close to done, already, because I lived in Houston for 8 years so know that town and its attitudes fairly well. Granted, I was there from 1985-1993 while Brendan's period is 1972 (really 1973 due to his mental collapse) to 1981. Still, it should be close enough.

But I haven't looked at it in close to a year so I may be fooling myself.

Forced absence...

The wifi went out in my area, on the 8th, and when it was restored apparently it messed up a couple of wires that connected my power source to the main outlet. Not just in my apartment but 4 or 5 others. So I didn't have internet service except on my phone until today.

I could use my phone's hotspot for a little while but it racked up the usage so I had to minimize it. It's funny, but I hadn't really understood how dependent I am on the internet till I didn't have access to it unless I went to a place that offered it, for free.

That meant McDonald's. I think I'm Big Mac'd out. But that meant research was out of the question. Fortunately, I still have a physical copy of a dictionary, so word spelling and definition weren't hurt.

The whole escapade of getting the repairs done is worthy of a Russian novel; man caught in his fate. Once the main service was restored and I found I still didn't have access, I contacted Verizon and went through their phone prompts and did a lot of back and forth with a techie before they agreed to have someone come out on Saturday to look into it. Supposed to be here between 12:30 and 2:30. Showed up at 5pm. And he's the one who noticed the problem with the wires. But he had to get into a locked room to handle it and the maintenance people aren't here on weekends. So he set up a new appointment for Monday.

That got changed to Tuesday, 8am-noon.

At 11am Tuesday it got changed to 10 am today. They showed up at 10:30. Took 'em 15 minutes to fix it. I've called Verizon and asked for a partial credit on what I paid for the month. They say they will once the ticket's been closed. Apparently there were still 2 more apartments to deal with.

So I've been catching up all day. I didn't have access to my printer without wifi, so that's nice to have back. At least I made myself spend the last 8 days working on Blood Angel's 2nd part...which has broken into 3 sections, each of which will be published separately. Section One/The Prussian is done and is 22,000+ words; I just need to do a proofing of it and complete the ebook setup for it to be ready. Oh, and I have to work up the avatar for it. That's going to be a pain. The image I wanted to use works better for Section Two, so I have to reimagine it.

I'll try and get all this done, tomorrow, since I'm doing the doctor on Friday and may be prepping for a trip to Lincoln, Nebraska for the end of the month. I've never been to Nebraska; should be interesting.

Almost human...

Still a bit stiff behind my neck and shoulders, but better. Helped that I'm trying to figure out WTF another guy who does packing for shipment is doing so I can work up a schematic of how to prep them for transportation. Took my focus away from my aches and pains. He's a bit more casual about packing than I am, and his boxes are turning out to be 70-75 lbs, each. Not cool. Doesn't help that most of the books are massive folios.

I'm fasting tonight for bloodwork, tomorrow. Getting a physical on the 18th and tests run on the 25th to see if all my parts are still working or if I need to go into the shop. Who knew my sell-by age was 70? Which is a lot later than I thought it would be. For years I thought I'd be dead by the age of 45. Who knew that I'd get missed by the AIDs epidemic while every man I knew in 1980 would not? Weird how life works.

I posted another image for Missing on BDSMLR. The last acceptable one for general consumption. This is the one where the story clearly becomes about slavery. Sure, it's a graphic novel that's got gay erotica all over it, and I am having fun doing it, but all of my books have meaning to them, no matter what people may think. Even my coloring book, Demented Dreams, is about fantasies being fun, even wicked ones.

I watched Judgement at Nuremberg, again. It's a long, intense movie about holding people responsible for the evil they allowed and committed. It's so damned relevant to today's situation, where a radical group of fascists want to take control of America and too damn many people are just going along with it or refusing to get involved. It should be required viewing for all students.

Old man...

 This trip was rough. Not just tiring, physically, but painful. I wound up repacking 4 bulk containers with cartons, all on my own. The guy who was to help me had a dental emergency and no one else was available. So...if I wanted it done, I had to do it. 120 cartons, a mix of Gaylord boxes, Paige Bankers boxes, outsized boxes and something wrapped in bubble that felt weird so I left it alone.

Got it done by 3:30 so returned to the hotel, feeling tired, mainly, and set myself up for the Mark Twain House, the next morning. It was a pleasant if meandering tour of his house and history which entailed going up and down stairs, which gave me my first hint of problems. But overall it was worth it.

A Leggo Mark Twain greets you in the lobby.
Across from that is him sitting under a photo of his house.
Mark Twain's house, built specially for him by his wife's wealthy father.
The room where he wrote Huckleberry Finn and Connecticut Yankee, at the desk in the corner.
Some of Mark Twain's notes
Dueling portraits made the same year by different artists.
Where he traveled, at a time when travel was anything but easy.
After this, I drove home. Made it fine since I stopped several times along the way for a breather so didn't have any sleepy spells. Slept hard...and wok up aching all over. Joints. Back. Neck. Head. Legs. Feet. It's like I'd run a marathon.
Downed a lot of Tylenol and ran a few errands, then vegged. Yesterday was only a little better. Mainly hips and neck aching, by that point. Today was fine enough. Still achy in my hips but a lot better.
Guess I'm finally falling apart....but this gives you an idea of what I did on the job. 30 lbs each.
Can't do this, no more. Too old and creaky...