Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 68

Refocused...

After working on the section leading up to Léon befriending Franz in hopes he'll agree to become a Blood Angel with him, I realized it needs to be broken into four parts. In and of itself.

Part one is Léonidès feeding on a murderous German soldier, then finding Franz tending to his horse and sensing he shares Léon's lineage. So he takes him back to a chateau he's bought near Metz and discusses helping Gregory get permission to change Meron, his familiar, into a vampire companion. At the moment, this is just under 17,000 words.

Part Two is Léonidès seducing Franz into being with him, even though there are indications he's not geared towards men. This becomes viciously evident when he becomes a Blood Angel and turns out to be a real bastard. Only his high-born manners kept him in check. Now they're gone.

Part Three is Léonidès seeking out Gabrielle, his sister, and offering a swap: Franz for her BA mistake, Dmitriy. She sort of agrees but cannot be trusted. Their meeting is in Korea. Léonidès finds an American soldier to feast upon, Ian, but instead decides to make him a familiar, until Prior Pious shows up. This part is pretty much written and is nearly 19,000 words.

Part Four, would be Gabrielle realizing Franz is a real handful for her, too, but she is cruel enough to tone him down. She keeps Dmitriy, as well, to use against Franz.  Léonidès gets the feeling Franz is not so much controlled as biding his time, and does wind up tricking Gabrielle into releasing him...then vanishes.

The section that comes after this is set during WW2, beginning in Poland in 1939. I already have 10,000 words written on that. I think it will be a single part.

After that is New Orleans in 2005, after Katrina. I'm shifting my screenplay into this, focusing on Gabrielle and her desire for a young jazz musician named Tristan Lee.

And then, modern day, when Leonides goes head to head with Franz and maybe the Oiym. But that is way down the road.

Not sure how the last one will break up, while Katrina looks very much like a 2-parter. I'm doing them all in ebook, only. Once they're done, I'll decide on whether or not to make a paperback. If I do, it'll be Stephen King sized. So that or I do each section as a volume...which I don't really feel great about.

But as I said, that's a long way down the road.

Sidetracked

This is what I did today. Possibly going to oversee the collection of 117 boxes and then repacking them into bulk containers for overseas shipment. Took configuring some configuration to make it work with some containers we have. Also worked out the costing for me to go.

Had family stuff, as well, and needed to go searching for Dr Pepper Zero since I was almost out and neither of the Tops or Walgreens I went to had it. Found it at a Dollar Store. It's funny how intent I was on getting it. 

Also did some preliminary work on having some books collected from a location in the UK, packed and shipped to the US. We have a guy over there who can handle it, well enough. It's just finding out when he's available and when the books will be ready to go. So brain was fuzzy by the time I was done with everything, because I wasn't really in the mood for it.

But...it made for a great excuse to avoid writing...

Typical Dyslexic fool...

I may have been misunderstanding myself for all my life. I'd always thought I should try harder, be smarter, push longer, keep trying and on and on to build a career in film. I feared I was becoming a workaholic. And no matter what, always felt completely inadequate. But today I saw a video on Instagram that got me to wondering.

The guy making the video is an English rugby player who I used as the model for Barry Cowan in The Beast in the Nothing Room. Name's Keegan Hirst. He came out as gay after being in a marriage and having kids. He's retired from rugby and does personal fitness and empowerment coaching, and I enjoy listening to him because his enthusiasm is nice and his Yorkie accent is lovely.

But in this video he references a book called The Best Little Boy in the World by Andrew Tobias, and it notes that gay men try to overcompensate in whatever they do for being gay. I don't do that. I never have. I get by. I do what I need to. I procrastinate until the last minute then use that as an excuse if what I do doesn't turn out great. I lose interest and beat myself up for not being better...and for not trying harder...even though I just plain do not really want to try very hard.

I whine. I bitch and gripe about myself. But reality is, I have to fight to make myself hunker down and do the work that is needed, and then do only what is absolutely necessary. It's like the opposite of that syndrome, even though for years I was convincing myself I was a workaholic in pursuit of writing a perfect screenplay to get things started. Only I really wasn't.

I now see that most of the trouble I had in writing A Place of Safety stemmed from my unwillingness to really do the work. I did what was necessary then I'd zone out or fade into something different and now I'm finally seeing just how hard I worked at doing nothing more than just getting by. The apathy I'd been fighting was just me falling back into my normal mindset of, "Why bother?"

I don't know quite what to make of this, yet; I'm still processing it. I don't think I'm being fatalistic or nihilistic or elegantly melancholy...but finally seeing what I'm not may have actually let me acknowledge what I really am. It's not lazy. It's not untalented. It's not apathy. It's an understanding that no matter what I do, it will not work out. So don't get too invested in whatever it is you're trying to achieve so you don't get too hurt when it falls apart.

It's a protective measure.

15 pages

Another short section of BA, done. A bit of background alluding to Book One and some information about Leonides' followers -- Gregory, Loronce, Stephane, Doric, Tellis and Reyndahl. All regular vampires and happy to be part of his gay troupe. It's 800 years after they joined together, and over that length of time they've become quite wealthy. They were also turned when they were in their 20s, albeit of the course of a few centuries, so they're almost like a good-looking Gen Z group, even though it's 1870.

Gregory also has Meron, a duòlos (a slave) he turned during the Battle of Borodino, when Napoleon's army beat the Russian forces but suffered so much damage they were never able to fully regroup. Meron was a French captain wounded in the fighting and Gregory saved his life. They're also a couple, as much as they can be.

A duòlos is a step up from a familiar but not a vampire. He lives to serve the one he considers his lord and can handle whatever the vampire needs to be done during the day, like Renfield did but without the feasting on spiders and flies. Sunlight doesn't affect him. In the Korea section, Leonides will hire a vampire captain (I may make him a BA, too) to pilot his ship from Hong Kong to Marseille, and his crew will be made up of duòlos sailors. 

Gregory wants to make Meron into a vampire, but he needs permission for the process from the Oiym, the rulers of the vampire world. At this point in time, they have forbidden vampires from turning humans; they may only feed until true death. But Léon thinks he can get them to agree to Gregory's wish. Gossip is, he's the Oiyms' favorite...much to his sister's displeasure.

Oh, and contrary to my intention not to do so, I've completely rewritten the first chapter. Shifted parts of it into chapter 2. I should learn never to say never.

Bad Kyle...

Did some rearranging in my apartment then hopped out to hit the bank and Goodwill and then groceries, and a couple of DVDs from a second hand shop. Found a table at Goodwill to put some plants onto, then had a bit of low blood sugar so had to take a break at Tops to have a candy bar. After that, came home and fed myself and dealt with the blahs that usually follow...until almost 10pm.

Suddenly I started jonesing for a Big Mac, like a pregnant woman with a craving. There's a 24 Hour drive-thru one about a mile from me so I hopped in my car and actually sat in line for half an hour, playing solitaire on my phone, then got my Big Mac meal (medium, with a really bad DP), scooted home, and I've just finished scarfing it down. You'd have thought I'd had a couple joints or edibles or something. I'll be up peeing half the night, but I don't care.

Didn't get anything done on BA except digging up the list of characters I'd done for the first part. I'd forgotten a couple of the vampire's names. Reminded myself of them and what their role is in this. I also worked out that I'll probably need to do a section between book one and this one, so I'd better be calling it book three. Then I'll get to book two when I get to it.

Got a bit of positive feedback already on APoS. Just a quick email from one reader telling me they loved how I was telling the story. Not sure what the full meaning of that is, since my paranoid side is making it into a sort of Love your style but hate the story, kind of thing.

Oh, I did spend some of the day pushing back at people on Twitter, Instagram and even Facebook who are trying to get Ukraine to give up the fight against Russia's terrorism. Seems they really went into high gear now the Kerch Bridge had been hit, again. And dealing with RFK Jr. tossing in his anti-Ukraine-pro-Russia pennies into the mix. That anyone thinks that man is worthy of any attention...hell, anything...is beyond me.

Bric-a-brac...

Cleaned and posted a new sketch for Missing. Still in the safety zone for posting but getting closer and closer to the NSFW area. I'm still not sure how this is going to work out in the end...but so far it's filling my prurient needs. Even my ancient version of PhotoShop is working well for me, on my old Mac Mini.
I'm going to need a new computer, soon, I know. I'm just waiting to see what happens with Kelly, my brother, before I make any plans. I also need a new phone. The one I'm currently using is owned by Caladex and I can't expect them to subsidize me when I'm not working for them, anymore. I keep it, now, because I use it for trips and maintaining contact with clients since I'm not in the shop. That can't go forever.
I've looked into bundling one with Fios and Verizon, but they would want me to open a new account, not just add it onto my account. Meaning I'd have to remove the information freeze on my credit so they can check it. I've had the fucking service for more than 13 years and they're pulling that shit? No way. I may check with Cricket and just get a pay as you go phone or something connected to a credit card.
I'm not reworking the first section of Blood Angel. I'm not falling into that trap, again, rewriting my writing after I've rewritten it forty-seven times. It's a tool of avoidance and I want this book done before Labor Day. The first book came out a year ago, so that's good timing. And I'm hoping I'll get my feedback on APoS by then so I can do a polish, get it completed and shift to the second volume. 

I'm also thinking of doing illustrated editions of some of my books, like were done during the Victorian era in England. Or not. I honestly won't know until I do it, but it keeps me looking forward instead of just giving up.

Opening of "Blood Angel-The Prussian"

There's a certain coldness I've noticed in this story. Got an idea where it's coming from; just don't know if it's counter-productive, but it's worked its way into the narrative. And is staying. This is the prelude before Léonidès sees the young cuirassier, who actually becomes the Prussian in the story.

-------

I sensed him before I saw him.

Felt him drawing me to him, silent in his demand. 

Unquestionable. 

Insistent as a stunning need welled up within and softly entwined itself around my neck, as one would a rope on a dog. It led me along a winding, rutted country lane in the east of France, twisting and curving through an area of forest thick with shadows. Dashes of sunlight barely sliced through the quiet gloom. This new demand upon my very being...this quiet scream that I must continue on this path despite the mud and horse shit and filth that layered it far too much...I could not have ignored it had I even wanted to. 

Being a Blood Angel instead of a mere vampire, the sun mattered little to me. I could walk freely through the height of day with minimal discomfort, with even that minor issue cast aside by a fine hat and long cloak...or coat. Frock coat, to be precise. It being 1870, one should use the proper vernacular, and I prided myself on keeping up with the times...and fashion. 

I cut a fine, healthy figure in a waistcoat and trousers, without pleats, done in the ditto style using a simple brushed wool. Plain white shirt with a pressed collar. Good walking boots. Were a bowler on my head instead of a wide-brim country hat, I could have been walking down the Champs-Elysées instead of a road near Mars-la-Tour. 

It was late in the day, when the air grows soft and gentle and the world begins to settle. When peace tries to make herself known, even in the face of the best efforts of mankind. I was being drawn down this path by something far more demanding than mere hunger. That had been well-satiated not an hour earlier, thanks to a strong young man who had been in the process of deserting the Prussian forces. His face had been pleasant enough; his shoulders broad; chest full and dashed with hair; a fine form down to his hips, which were a bit wide; a belly trim but not flat. But also a nice round ass and solid legs promised to feed the needs of my dick as well as my belly, and seeing he had murdered an unwary peasant so he could swap the man's clothing with his own ragged uniform had merely sealed the deal. 

That may seem odd, coming from one such as myself, but it had become my most sacred rule -- feed only on those deserving of punishment. Thieves. Murderers. Maniacal soldiers caught by bloodlust in the midst of a war or occupation of a populace. Those who would not be missed or whose absence could easily be explained away. We lived in a time where the regard for human life was at a minimum, so there was always some conflict underway where one could forage. 

This rule also applied to my pack, all of whom were only vampires. And all of them male, thanks to the predilection of their maker. Six young men turned to be his companions over the course of a few centuries, all taken while still young and handsome. All focused on sexual encounters with other males. All kept hidden in his monastery. That I removed them from his limited sphere of influence was my first positive act. 

Over the last eight-hundred years, we had been nothing but a troupe of seven young men traveling about the land. Hardly considered unusual. Especially as we were well-dressed, well-mannered, and most important of all -- well-monied. Gold in hand always brings forth the most proper of manners, even amongst inn-keepers...as well as men who foolishly thought they could remove it from us, along with our lives. Which gave us plenty to quietly feed upon, so no need to cause trouble or raise suspicion. 

This made us an anomaly in the vampire world. Prevailing gossip had determined I was either the leader of a small sect, or a Padishah with his male concubines. Odd creatures unwilling to be proper monsters like they. I didn't care. All that mattered was the protection of my clan, and for these centuries we had passed through Europe unmolested while others had been caught out and destroyed by those they fed upon. Even the Oyim, the leaders of our kind, had come to see my care and caution made far more sense than feasting like wild animals. 

The soldier who became my meal, that evening, was Helffing. I think that was his surname, but in these times, one could never be certain. He had just finished pulling on the dead man's pantaloons, which were nice and tight on him. When he squatted over the peasant's body the pantaloons scooted halfway off his ass, showing hair swirled across its cheeks and there was a tuft of it at the base of his spine. He was shoving the peasant into his Prussian uniform, which was odd. The dead man had been at least twice his age, with streaks of white hair across his head and around his chin, and much thinner. Also, his left leg was malformed and a crutch of a sort lay close by. On top of this, the way his head rolled on the dirt and how his clouded eyes stared up at the sky told me Helffing had snuck up and broken his neck, despite having a sharp-looking knife strapped to his belt. It would have been much easier to slit the old man's throat or stab him... 

Oh, but Léonidès, think; this way there is no blood on his clothing. That was almost clever, though no one would believe for a moment that the dead man had been a Prussian soldier.But then I noticed a tangle of sticks and twigs close by. The old man apparently had been gathering them. Did Helffing plan to put the body on it and set the wood alight? Most of it was green and wet, so that would be very difficult to do. 

He rose to a crouch and began striking his flint, aiming the sparks against his old uniform. The material soon caught alight. He crouched over more to blow on it, revealing more of his ass, then a small flame danced up. He shifted the branches and twigs and wood to atop that. They began to crackle and burn.Well...that's one way to hide a body. Destroy it. I had done that so many times, myself, when no other option was available. Helffing seemed to have had practice at this...except he kept his boots. Worn as they were, they had still once been well-made. Not smart; you could be accused of robbing corpses, my lad, and hanged. 

Finally, he rose to his full height and I smiled. He struck a powerful figure. Stocky. Solid. Healthy. From his shoulders to his hips and that round ass still slightly revealed under the pantaloons. Except for a ragged beard, he was exactly what I wanted...and not merely to feast upon.

So I jumped him, from behind.

Am I just tedious?

I got into a bit of a back and forth over someone telling me that the reason I tend to procrastinate is that I'm reacting to some suppressed trauma. And that if I knew what the trauma was, I'd get past it and stop being so whiny and tedious. Sent me this to back it up.

From a trauma perspective, procrastination may occur when certain parts of a traumatic memory that has not been processed fully are unconsciously triggered. An individual may not be able to understand why they put things off, or have a strong emotional response to being asked to do something.

Well, yes, I have been traumatized, but I remember it, fully. So that ain't the deal. I finally got the feeling they were trying to find out what it was, and I have no interest in sharing it with anyone. Hell, there's some members of my family don't even know about it. Actually, most members, now. 

I will say, it is one of the reasons I have serious problems maintaining any sense of self-confidence or certainty in my abilities. But I've been in therapy, years worth, and that didn't help one damn bit. What actually did finally do me some good was writing How to Rape a Straight Guy. It took some of that psychological bullshit off my shoulders and let me see a new path.

People call the book porn, but they haven't read it. They only think that because of the title and that it has gay sex in it, mostly non-con. (And that person also dissed it as just a sex book. Again, without reading it.) It's not an easy book, I grant you, but the main character, Curt, is going through an almost existential crisis and is careening towards insanity...but actions he takes...hideous actions that hurt other people...force him to confront how dangerous he's becoming...and he pulls back. Just enough to stop and protect someone whose life he's already pretty much fucked up. And feel sorry for it. And change his direction. He still winds up back in prison as a double murderer, but he finally knows who he is and how he hurt himself, and indications are he will not hurt anyone else.

I've had reviewers tell me how shocked they are at the end of the book, because they feel sorry for Curt despite his really quite evil actions.They also understand him. That helped me more than anything.

It makes me think that maybe, someday, that can happen for me.

Still dancing with BA...

I think I'm going to keep the section of Blood Angel that I'm working on in 2 parts, after all. I don't want these bits to be too massive, just something like 20-25K in wordage, but I'm still open to either way. Right now, I'm working on the Prussian part to see if it will flow into the Korea part...but at the moment I'm feeling a hard break coming at the point where Léonidès realizes he has to do something about Franz, now that's he's been turned and revealed that for all his manners and grace, he's a monster at heart.
I'm still wondering if I should do sketches to go with parts of the story...like when Léonidès is watching Franz tend to his injured horse...or when Léon grabs his first meal in the Prussian section. I'm getting some serious fantasy crap out of the way with this story, seeing as how Léonidès grabs a deserter after the man's murdered an peasant, then bathes him and rapes him and kills him, then buries him to be like fertilizer.
I'm letting this book go over the top in its brutality. Just to let off some steam after arguing with idiots on Twitter, Instagram and even Facebook, now. To be honest, a streak of this cruelty has always been inside me, lying dormant as if waiting to burst into reality. I've caught glimmers of it rousing a couple of times, but overall I kept it back. I don't want to hurt anyone, so I won't let myself go, due to that danger.
What convinced me I had the need to be careful was when I went to meet with an actor who wanted to be in The Wilderness Rule, a movie I wrote for a guy named Anthony Lo Presti to direct. Overall the film project was a disaster. Poor planning on my part. Unwillingness to postpone to get better prepared. A director who didn't know jack shit. The actors were good and gave far more than they needed to, but I let things collapse into chaos.
Anyway, Lo Presti and I drove up to Dallas from Houston to meet the actor and let him read for us. I fed him lines. We did a bit of the script where he was begging for his life...and he was good. Damn good. But what jolted me was something animalistic roared up deep in my chest, and if Lo Presti hadn't been there, I could easily have lost control and jumped the guy like a beast. Not my favorite memory, nor has it happened, since...because I won't let it. Won't put myself in that situation, again.
That's what my writing helps keep at bay...the beast within me. When I wrote The Beast in the Nothing Room, I was the beast, at times. Now, maybe, I'm too old to be...but never hurts to be careful.

Blood Angel

I got restless ... sort of like going through withdrawal from writing ... so I dug into a section of Blood Angel that I'd written about a year ago. Set in 1870-72 It has Léonidès finding another Blood Angel who could be a companion to him, a handsome young Prussian soldier named Franz, and he lets his dick do the thinking.

The way Blood Angels work, when they are turned from human to vampire they lose all of the lies they tell themselves about themselves. Their true nature comes to the fore. Gabrielle, Léon's sister, learned this the hard way when she was in Moscow during Napoleon's march on Russia. She met a young man named Dmitriy, knew he was of the BA lineage, took him to bed and then turned him to be her mate.

Only Dmitry was lying to himself. Forcing himself to be with women because he really preferred men. So once he was turned, any interest in Gabrielle vanished...except for her money. But she's stuck with him. He and Léon get long well, and she could let her brother have him, but she's filled with anger and more than a little jealousy at how easily Léon is working his way through the world. 

She also believes, not without reason, that Léonidès is the favorite of the ruling caste of vampires, the Oyim. So she's mainly being contrary just to punish both men. They still get together, now and then, but Dmitriy cannot leave her unless she allows it.

Still, knowing how this happened Léon still becomes obsessed with Franz and turns him before really understanding him. And finds the truth of Franz is he's something of a monster. His family is aristocracy and he now sees no limits to what he can do. He's smart enough to wreak havoc with Léon's preference that he and his crew only feed on those deserving of death, and knows not to go so far that the Oyim will step in to stop him. 

So Léon goes looking for his sister to offer a trade, since Franz is very female oriented and the only way he can have the guy in his bed is by near rape. He travels to London, has some fun with Dmitry and learns Gabrielle is en route to Korea to find, seduce and turn a young American Marine. So there he goes to track her down. It's world travel as done in the 1870s style, slow yet romantic. With lots of brutality along the way.

I'm thinking I may just go ahead and put this out, next month. It would be a year after the first volume was released, and that will always be book one. This one, I think I'll subtitle The Prussian. I'll consider it some more, tomorrow. It's only about 80% complete ... but could be done.