Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 90

I found a major timing issue while doing the step outline...

I found a major timing issue while doing the step outline -- At the beginning of a chapter I have Brendan's family moving to a new house before Christmas when it needs to be some months afterwards. Also, he had an Apollo 8 cap when he should have had an Apollo 7, due to the timing. So I've rewritten it  to where Mairead talks their new neighbors into doing a belated Christmas celebration and it helps.
Here's more of the outline, in order from yesterday:
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Barking Dogs
March set up for October 5, 1968 despite opposition from Protestants and misgivings by Catholics. Brendan excited about it while repairing a camera for a man to photograph the march. He comes home to find Mairead getting cozy with Turlach Devlin, son of the owner of Devlin's Furniture, and is promised more fix-it jobs at the shop. Bernadette is still trying to get the Mayor to allocate them a new home because their place is falling apart. So far, no luck.
March happens on a Saturday when Derry's football team has a home game so only hundreds there, not the thousands expected. Brendan is with Colm, Danny and wee Eammon. His brother, Eamonn, is mixed in with the crowd. Starting on the Protestant side of the Foyle river, near the train depot. Colm is wary, Danny joyous. RUC has officers out in force, saying the march is illegal. Speeches are made. News crews all over. Brendan sees Billy with his rabid Unionist uncle, watching the crowd, and also sees Tommy. 
The march starts...and the Constables attack. Vicious beatings as the crowd is hemmed in on both sides. Water cannons. Brendan and wee Eammon are soaked, and the smaller lad comes down with pneumonia. His mother blames Brendan and attacks him, and Bernadette allows it. Mairead calms them both. Eamonn comes home with his sports coat torn and bloody but claiming, "It's over for them." But Brendan pays attention to the news and what's in the papers, including the Protestant ones, and has his doubts, especially after reading some of the lectures by Ian Paisley. 
Adjustments 
Eamonn joins with the People's Democracy and comes home for Christmas talking about plans for a long walk from Belfast to Derry starting on January 1st. Bernadette talks about Da going to Liverpool and Eamonn takes Brendan away before he can correct her lie. They talk about the march while walking, Eamonn very idealistic about it with Brendan wary. Then Eamonn asks why Brendan keeps going against their mother.
Brendan recalls a confrontation with his mother that caused a constable to intervene, the year before. During this, he revealed he knew about the money sent by Aunt Mari. He also blurted out that he gives money to Mairead because it goes to the family instead of a rich organization like the Catholic Church. Eamonn gives Brendan advice on avoiding confrontations with their mother, then he buys a gift for Mrs. McKittrick. Brendan says nothing about know her.
A Deepening Dream 
Eamonn heads back to Belfast with a blanket, food and money given to him by Bernadette, who does it with sly jabs at Brendan, even though she will not let him join the march. Father Jack, Colm, Danny and Paidrig come along to see Eamonn off on the bus, and Brendan is wearing an Apollo 7 Cap sent to him by Aunt Mari, for Christmas. Father Jack is very enthused about the walk, but Brendan is wary. He knows of people like Major Bunting and Ian Paisley working up the Loyalist crowd and is sure there will be trouble along the way.
Brendan is more comfortable with Father Jack than Father Demian. He remembers a meeting he had with the man, after his argument with Bernadette by Edmiston's, where the man tried to convince him the church did good with the money. It wasn't working, so Father Demian began to stroke Brendan's hand, which made him uncomfortable. They argued and the man slapped him and sent him from the room.
General opinion about the walk is split between support and certainty that commies are doing this just to hurt the church. Jackie and Aidan are not joining the march, but Eamonn is treated well by all. They see Mrs. McKittrick near the bus depot. Brendan sees the look that passed between them and feels sorry for her. Then he and his mates head up Shipquay for Wee Johnny's, to look at comics...but Brendan sees Joanna, ditches his mates and follows her into Woolworths. He watches her dance to a record -- Never Shall I Marry by the Johnstons. She sees him looking and smiles, so when she exits he buys that record to give to her but she's gone. He pretends he stole the record to quiet his mother, and that night masturbates to the image of Joanna dancing.

A few more sections...

Continuing from yesterday, more distillations of APoS into an outline, of sorts:

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Life Expansions

It's 1968 and Brendan is twelve. On his birthday, he helps Mr. O'Faelan fix his taxi's heater near the bus depot. He sees Joanna Martin for the first time as he's washing his hands in a pool of water by the curb and falls in love with her beauty. He decides to keep himself extra clean, for the next time he sees her. Eamonn is planning to become a barrister and Mairead is working at a shirt factory. Brendan has no interest in going to college; he just wants to be left alone and fix things. Eamonn's noticed Brendan gives Mairead money and Brendan sees he's not able to keep a secret so shrugs it off.

Brendan thinks about Joanna and gets his first erection...and finds it's hurting him. Badly. Eamonn wakes Bernadette and they call for an ambulance to take him to Altnagelvin hospital. She's angry because she thinks he was abusing himself, but it turns out he has phimosis and needs to be circumcised. He stays in hospital for a week, enjoying himself, then recuperates at home for another week. His Chinas drop by to play games and smoke, and he gets lots of little repair jobs so wonders why he needs to continue with school. Father Jack has replaced Father Demian, who was rumored to be too free and easy with his hands and boys. First hints that Danny was molested by him. The new priest consistently tells Brendan he's not living up to his potential, but Brendan is set on going his own way.

Mr. Motor Boy

Brendan starts doing odd work fixing cars. Rhuari is getting lost in his books, Mairead and Maeve working a garden. Eamonn has new friends so stays out late, a lot. Brendan's working on a clock when he comes in and they talk about the new hope in the world. John Hume leading the push. References the May riots in France and assassinations of Martin Luther King and how Robert Kennedy is running for President. Talk of marches in push for civil rights in NI, Eamonn joining in with it.

Eamonn asks about Brendan's circumcision and all is fine, then Eamonn reveals he's sleeping with a married woman. Brendan worries about the gossip if people find out. Eamonn comments no one know what's going on in Brendan's quiet little head. Goes to sleep. Brendan remembers Joanna and masturbates to her...and when he ejaculates fears he's broke something. But there's no blood so he sleeps, as well.

Marching Season

Protests throughout the city and area, calling for civil rights. Most on weekends, with anger growing. Colm begins drifting to a new crowd, Paidrig with him. Eamonn more involved. Brendan at protests but still stand-offish. Not sure it will achieve anything, nor is he impressed with Father's Jack's careful words. Church worried protests are communist-influenced.

Eamonn planning to attend Queen's College in Belfast so becomes the perfect man in the family while Brendan is more disparaged for being willing to do fix-it jobs for Protestants. Leads to a nasty confrontation with Bernadette while he's waiting for Danny and wee Eammon. Brings on a memory of seeing her and his father jumping into each other's arms to have sex, and he finally realizes his mother and father had loves the fights between themselves and she needed someone to abuse now that he was gone...and Brendan was it.

He, Danny and wee Eammon wander around bored, smoking, which Eammon's mother smells on them and tosses a fit; he has asthma. Brendan sees dogs chase a tom cat, about to kill it but the cat spins into a frenzy, spooks the dogs and gets away. Brendan goes home with Danny and they get drunk. Brendan sleeps in, the next morning, then Bernadette throws his breakfast on the floor when he comes down. He sneers and eats it, anyway.

Standoff

Silent truces between Brendan and his mother. Eamonn is off to Queens for orientation so Brendan and Mai get him a new sports coat. Have a table from Devlin's Furniture and he talks of the school, new friends, how they want the same things as him. Mentions two Derry friends will be with him, there -- Jackie Brennan and Aidan Dunn, then heads out for a meeting. Brendan's ordered not to go but sneaks out to follow Eamonn, who actually goes to a Mrs. McKittrick's house. Uncertain, Brendan peeks inside to see if there is a meeting and catches Eamonn and the older woman having sex on the divan. He runs off, shaken at how ugly it looked.

Brendan wanders about, a fog settling in about him, and thinks of how redevelopment in the Bogside has made Derry look like London in the blitz. Wonders if his father was in Belfast when it was hit by Nazi bombs, and recalls a moment when Da cursed after Father Demien and Bernadette tended to him, gently. It makes him wonder more about his father's unknown past. Then he hears police whistles and running feet, and helps Danny escape capture by the RUC. Danny suggests they go to the circle fort.

Grianan Aileach

Brendan and Danny cross into the Republic and head up to the fort, atop a hill. Silent until they get there and Danny's friends whisk up on two bicycles -- Tommy, Connor, Shane, and Brian (Boru to you) on a Schwinn and a Huffy banana bike. Tommy knows Eamonn from a demonstration at Dungannon, where he calmed down a confrontation with Protestants. Slip into the fort and Brendan climbs to the top to look out over the beauty around him. Sees Brian sneak into a hidden space at the base of the walls and bring out bottles of whiskey and bags of pot from a smugglers' stash. 

Brendan smokes for the first time after Danny shows him how. Gets stoned and somewhat drunk, and falls in love with just looking at the stars above him. Then Colm shows up, angry. He's one of the smugglers and is shocked Brendan is there, but Danny tells him it's his first time. Brian jumps Colm, helped by Shane and Connor, but Brendan helps Colm fight back. Danny stops the fight with a sharp whistle because Tommy has pulled a knife. Danny talks him down and they leave Brendan with Colm.

Bernadette is angry with Brendan for sneaking out but he snaps back at her. Eamonn takes him out for a walk and they run into Mrs. McKittrick, so Brendan wanders away and sits atop the walls to look out over the Bogside, growing depressed. He wonders if his life will be like that of the people who live in the cramped ugly houses, and is finally afraid of what almost happened, at the fort. But the next day, Colm tells him, "You backed me up, me China. "I won't forget that." And Brendan feels proud, again.

Distillation...

It's interesting how condensing each chapter into a paragraph or two is helping me see the story more sharply. I'm going slow to make sure I get the important beats...but here are the first three chapters -- oh, and the Rossville Flats, which figure greatly in the story, are the two tallish buildings in the center right of the photo; the third one is not easily visible. But that's the part of the city that is the Bogside...

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In the Beginning

It's February 1966, and Brendan has just turned ten years of age. He speaks about Eamonn Kinsella, his father, and the man's brutal murder. He's not sorry the man is dead because he was a drunken brute who beat his wife and sons, but he also finds others thought well of him and that he sang and wove stories in pubs in exchange for drinks. He also comments a bit on the history of Derry (Londonderry), Northern Ireland, and how Catholics are oppressed by Protestants in the town...which is why his father is made into a martyr; he was Catholic and the men who tortured him to death were Protestant. 

Child of the Groundhog 

Brendan introduces himself and his family. Eamonn, older brother named after their father; Mairead, older sister; Rhuari, younger brother; Maeve, younger sister; and another about to be born, named Kieran. His mother's name is Bernadette and she treats Brendan poorly, calling him simple even though he is very good at fixing things. They live in a terrace home off Nailors Row that is almost falling down, but this is not uncommon in the Bogside area of Derry. 

Bernadette is not happy her sister, Mari, married an American named Sean McNanamarra and lives in Houston, Texas, and she hates her brothers for abandoning her and her sister to an orphanage. But Mari sends money in monthly letters, which Mairead finds out about. learns a lot of it is given to Father Demian, their parish priest for murky reasons, and takes over. Mairead also convinces their parents it's okay for Eamonn to go to university, since Bernadette wanted him to get a job, instead, and talks Eamonn the elder into working more so his son can focus on his studies. There is more background about their parents, questions about their past, more details regarding Derry's history of being controlled by Protestants despite being a Catholic town. 

The Chinas 

Despite going to mass every Sunday and having lots of kids in his neighborhood, Brendan has few friends because he prefers to fix toys, radios and toasters and such rather than play with the other boys. Also, Bernadette is fanatical about keeping clean. His only real mates are Colm O'Faelan, whose father drives a taxi; Danny Gallagher, whose father is porter for their local parish church and whose mother is also a clean freak; Pardrig, who's a hanger-on of Colm's and whose family are not known to be hard workers; and wee Eammon, the only child of an abandoned woman. They became friends over a football match and they are the one who drag Brendan into a somewhat normal life. He also becomes friends with two Protestant boys -- Billy and Gerry. They call each other China thanks to Brendan Behan's book, Borstal Boy. 

More is revealed about Brendan keeping some of the money he makes from his mother, and how harsh she is with him. Mairead is handling the household finances so Brendan gives her some. He's also a quick thinker, as shown by how he gets Billy and himself away from some boys who want to beat them, and how he is able to work the RUC (police) when he and Colm are arrested for a confrontation with some Protestant boys...but that starts a rift between Brendan and Billy and Gerry. Bernadette is politically active with the Nationalists and brooks no dissent about Mother Ireland and the fight for equality against the Protestants.

Freak out time...

I had one of my emotional downturns, now that this draft of APoS is done. Telling myself it's a mess. That it's got too much going on yet is still shallow and doesn't reflect the time period or the people of Derry. On and on, starting as I went to bed, last night, and keeping me half-awake. Kind of rough and sent me spiraling into depression.

So I woke up, irritable, and decided I'd run some errands -- bank, PO, buy Christmas cards and a few groceries, pick up a prescription, face he insane traffic of Black Friday -- instead of anything else. That helped minimize my tendency to tear myself to pieces.

What also helped put me back on the road to control was, on a whim I went to Talking Leaves Book Shop to get my cards. I prefer those that are unusual and found a great set that will do nicely. But I also found a new translation of Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote, done by Edith Grossman. It's been years since I even tried to read that book and I only got through part of it, but the first pages of this one caught me so I got it.

It reminded me of how I hadn't liked Gone With the Wind the first two times I tried to read it. And how I'd found War and Peace to be thick and dull the first time in my first attempt at that. But both of these were solid works of literature that have lasted, and both of which I did like when I tried, again, to read them at later points in my life. Now W&P (and Anna Karenina) are two of my favorite all-time books, despite Russia's current atrocities in Ukraine.

Then I recalled how John Fowles, who's not exactly a lightweight literary author, published a revised version of The Magus in 1977, 12 years after it was first published and despite it having received critical and commercial success at the time. Those memories led me to one where Rob Reiner, who directed The Princess Bride, which was a huge success, supposedly went to William Goldman years after the movie was out and told him that he had shot one scene all wrong and had just figured out the right way to do it.

It's kind of silly, I know, but these snippets helped get me back on track. If John Fowles and Rob Reiner are second guessing themselves, I shouldn't be so freaked out that I am, too.

Tomorrow, I'm starting on a full outline of the three books as they currently stand. I think I'll need that to show a potential agent. It will also help keep me on track and consistent with the characters and story. I think I have Brendan, Colm, Danny, Paidrig, Eamonn and the rest set up properly...but I probably have more work to do on his mother to make her motives more settled. But that's fine. Feedback is coming.

So now I'm also going to read all of Don Quixote, to the end.

More writing done...

 As is my wont, I realized I hadn't written one section of APoS correctly so went in and redid it...which led to another part needing to be adjusted...which led to another rewrite and polish of other areas, and now I know I'm doing a draft 5. It's 29 chapters, at the moment, still at 582 pages, and now closer to 133,000 words.

BUT...I got a couple of friends whose opinions I trust to say they would read it and give me feedback. So now I'll be waiting for them before I do any further work on it.

So made Thanksgiving dinner -- turkey with craisins, mashed potatoes with homemade gravy (you can tell by the lumps), sweet potato and creamed corn. With a Guinness. Then I sorted through a pile of paperwork and most of it's sorted away. Had more of my Wolfenoot cake a bit ago, with some milk and am now feeling very sleepy. I may go to bed early; I'm braving Black Friday to pick up a prescription refill, hit the bank and the PO. Such fun.

Over the weekend I'll be pulling together more agents to query about the book. I've decided I'd rather not self-publish it through Ingram. They've become difficult to deal with. If I ask for a report of how many copies of each title I've sold for 2022, I'm sent a blank Excel Spreadsheet. No figures in it, at all. If I ask for the report in a PDF, they send me one that tells me the total sales only, doesn't break them down by title.

If I contact customer service and tell them that their reporting system isn't working, they tell me how to get a report...through the reporting system that isn't working. It's like they don't read for comprehension. So I have to go back and forth with them, over and over, till they finally get me what I'm asking for. It's irritating.

That on top of them withdrawing HTRASG from distribution without telling me then getting angry with me for demanding an answer as to why suggests it's best if I avoid them. Once I'm done with APoS, I may look into another home for all my titles. I own the ISBNs so can take them anywhere.

Too bad; Ingram used to be so good.

Draft 4 of APoS is done.

 I've got a budding headache from eyestrain, but the fucker is through this draft and ready to sit for a while to give me some space. I am so written out, right now.

I've also asked on Facebook for someone to read it and give me feedback on whether or not it's actually working. I'm way too close to be objective. Dunno if I'll get any takers. It's over 132,500 words long.

I guess I may need to renew the copyright on the story. I set that up some years ago, when it was in 2nd draft...but we'll see. I need to dig into my paperwork to see and right now I just can't think. But Thanksgiving is going to be great. I'll watch Miracle on 34th Street (1947), again.

I had some fun with a little holiday made up by a 7 year-old boy -- Wolfenoot. The attached image has an explanation of it. I made a pot roast with potatoes and carrots that was cooked to perfection. I dumped a chuck steak, onion, french onion soup packet and water into a crock pot and let it cook for 12 hours, on low, before adding the potatoes and carrots.

I also made a cake for the first time in years. I'd tried to make it white, but I used whole eggs instead of just egg whites so it came out yellow. Still...I licked the bowl.

However...the frosting was chocolate fudge and I managed to work up something of a design of a wolf howling at the moon on it, using a tube of something or other. Tasted good, every bit of dinner...as it better have because it was not cheap.

But I have leftovers.

60 pages left in APoS...

 I got through Bloody Sunday, making sure to keep it a bunch of impressions and not a blow-by-blow account, since it's all from Brendan's POV. He's with Colm and is almost hit by a bullet. When it's calmed down, he wanders away, in shock, runs into a lady who's worse off than him, emotionally, and makes it home. Has no idea where Colm is, and finds out his mother saw some people killed as well. But it doesn't bring them together. They have a quiet vicious argument because Brendan's decided to leave Derry.

He also finally finds out why his mother has treated him poorly -- because he was like none of her other children, more an alien creature because of his calmness and focus and unwillingness to bend to her will, like Eamonn is doing. It's cold and harsh and only comes out because all emotional barriers are down.

Next comes Brendan taking Joanna to the circle fort and then getting his papers set to leave. He's sixteen so can legally do what he wants, and his aim is to join with a cruise ship. All he needs is his mother's permission, which he forges. His plan is to build up some money until Joanna finds out which college she's going to then settle there to be with her.

Something that's come up during this draft is a question in my mind as to whether or not Joanna is as caught up in this relationship as Brendan is. Sometimes it seems like she is; other times it's like she's just playing at it. I may leave it that ambiguous, but I do need to know for myself which way it is, and she's being coy.

You never know with women...or even most men...

The rest of yesterday's chapter....

 I'm working on the Bloody Sunday chapter so here's the remains of what I posted, yesterday.

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Danny's voice was soft. "The way that fook was...was grabbin' at me an'...an' we almost...almost got...almost got snatched...and...and...Jesus, Bren..." 

Cough. 

"But we didn't, did we?" Danny continued. His voice had strength growing in it, again. He rubbed my back; it helped some. "That was some punch you took." 

I could only shrug, my throat was so raw. 

"And that story you pulled..." 

I shook my head and tried to crouch down, to end the aching and the coughing and to hide the slashing memories of that interrogation that cut into me and not let myself get lost in understanding just how close I'd come to it happening, again, but Danny stopped me. 

"Lean back against the wall," he said. "Flat. It helps more." 

I didn't want to, but his eyes were gentle and far too sure as he pushed me by my shoulders. It was cold, even through my coat, but he was right. I could feel the ache become manageable and my coughing slow. 

And the memories slow. 

And fade...fade...fade to nothing. 

My Chinas just stood by me. Kept watch for me until finally I managed to choke out, "That...fat bastard...he pulled the same...with me. Even more. Just used it...back...on him." Then another fucking cough...but only the one before I could stop it. 

"Even more?" said Danny. "You...you better, now?" 

I nodded. Cough. Soft but still...DAMMIT! 

"Colm," I garbled, "the...the story about you...it...it near happened to...to (cough) to Diarmaid. Being a bloody eejit. (Cough.) I just...changed it a little." 

Colm ran his good hand through his hair, eyeing me like I was a stranger. "I'd never have come up with something so simple and believable. By now I'd be down Strand Road." 

I could think of nothing more to say. I was still bordered on madness from near going through that interrogation, again, and I couldn't stop thinking of how much harder they'd been on Tur and what it did to him, a full-grown man and...and to think of Colm and Danny...Danny!...going through that, as well...it had my brain caught in a spin, and I started to shake, again. 

Colm finally noticed and his face grew gentle, then he calmly said, “C’mon, me China, let’s to home.” 

His bad arm was at his side so Danny helped him put it back in the sling. I managed to start walking, that bloody cough still popping up, but only now and again. Colm and Danny paced me. My shaking eased... 

Till we turned onto Clíodhna. I saw Ma looking out the door and she saw me and her face screwed into something that told me I was for it, again. She'd gone back to her old self, now that Mai and the wains were gone, picking and angry and demanding. So out she burst to slap me. 

“Where've you been?!” she screamed. "I've been looking for you for hours and..." 

Colm got between us and said, “It was the checkpoints, Mrs. Kinsella.” 

“What're you doing beyond the Bogside! Why would you need to be through them and what's this with your arm?!” 

“You’re lucky we’re home, at all, and not off to Long Kesh. Bren kept us from arrest.” 

“You and your lyin' ways, coverin' for each other! What could any of you know that they might want?” She slapped the back of my head and grabbed my collar to yank me inside and... 

“Mrs. Kinsella!" It was Colm's voice, but sharp and cold. A man speaking, not a boy. We all jolted and looked at him, startled. “I’ll ask you not to hit Brendan, again.“ 

Other women had come out to see the commotion and if it could make for some good craic, and all were focused on us. Christ, this curiosity could go both good and bad for any. 

Ma glared at Colm. “You’ll mind your own business, me boy, or...” 

He took a step closer and his eyes were dark and dangerous. 

Ma fell into silence and stepped back. For the first time since Da died, I saw fear in her face. 

That stopped my shaking, and I said, “Colm! Won’t...won't they check my story? Do you know if...if McClosky’ll back us up? He knows me but not you.” 

Colm's voice was like ice. “He will. Once Diarmaid knows.” 

“Best get to him," Danny said, back to being quick and cool. He was firing up a Marlboro. I'd forgotten we had those. "Set it straight," he continued, smoke whispering from him. "They always move fast when we don't think they will.” 

Colm nodded, his eyes locked on Ma. 

Danny noticed me eyeing the smoke so pulled out a fresh one, fired it off his and handed it to me. I inhaled, and it was regular tobacco. I could have wept from gratitude. If we'd been snatched and the illegal found on us, we'd have been at Long Kesh till I was seventy. I saluted him, saying, "I owe you a pack," as I let the smoke out. 

He shook his head, smiling. "Bren...you're me China." 

Colm gave me a pat on my shoulder. “You’re a cool one, Bren. I’m glad you’re with us, not them. Danny?” 

He looked between Ma and me then nodded his head. "Thanks for the offer, Bren, but I've much to discuss with Colm. May not even sleep before tomorrow's bus. Another time?" Then he winked at me. 

He was our Danny, again. 

I nodded back, sort of smiled at them, and they quietly vanished into the darkness. 

Which shocked me. I hadn't realized night had fallen. On top of it, the women had already returned inside their homes, which I'd not even thought about. I needed to start paying better attention to my surroundings. I was getting too focused on nothing, of late. 

That's when I turned to Ma...and fucking coughed...and said, “I...I’d not call Colm a liar, again. I don’t think he’d like it.” 

Then I went up to my room and sat in my bed and gazed out the window at that ugly bloody yard, behind us. It was clouded up and dreary, so no stars available, but still I did not move. I tried not to let myself think. But the whole situation came crashing in on me and all I could see was how easily that one little encounter could have gone to hell had Danny freaked out and fought the fat bastard, with those soldiers and their batons and gun, he could've been just another dead Irish punk, to them, all three of us could have been and...and...I had to fight to make those thoughts leave my head. 

And fight. 

And fight. 

I had no tea, that night. Just sat on my bed till I lost all thought and woke, the next morning, still in my clothes and facing the window. With my brain finally, blessédly blank...except about that record player I needed to finish fixing. 

To no surprise, McClosky actually was contacted by the RUC and he backed us up. As a way of thanks, he was allowed to skip one week’s payment for protection. How kind of our betters. 

Mr. Devlin wasn’t so well-treated. I learned later that some men from Belfast had forced him to give over a fine, of sorts, for Tur leaving. It gave out the wrong idea that they couldn't protect their own. 

Eamonn's fucking words, and even more worthless. And stupid. 

Those who knew of it figured they just needed some extra coin from him and that was their excuse. But all that did was convince him he should close the shop and join his sons. He was in the process of preparing to do so when, three days before my sixteenth birthday, the hell I'd feared came knocking at the door. 

Again, courtesy of the stupid fucking British.

I will have draft 4 done by Thanksgiving...

Deepening the emotional aspect of the scenes is working for me. Today, this is one I redid -- after Brendan, Colm and Danny were at the Magilligan Strand demonstration, not far from Derry. Colm was hit in the arm by a rubber bullet and he can't use it. Brendan suspects Danny was molested by a parish priest and still suffers PTSD from it.

------

The bus let us off at Guildhall and we headed for William. 

"Do you have some smokes, Colm?" I asked. 

He shook his head. 

"Two packs on me," Danny said, wary. 

"Marlboros?" He nodded. "That should be enough." 

And normally would have been, but the checkpoint was manned by a pack of very angry soldiers, none of whom I'd seen before. Save one...maybe. They slammed us against a wall, telling us to put our hands up on it and to spread our legs so they could maul us with full abandon. But Colm couldn’t raise his hurt arm. A Sergeant grabbed it to look closer at his injury, making him cry out from the pain. 

"What's this?" he snarled at Colm. "Bloody rioter?" 

He started to rip Com's Anorak off, causing even more pain to him. 

I was still in control, for we were outside, not in a room, so gave a small laugh and shot in with, “Me mate? Rioting? Couldn't throw straight to save himself. He was just playin’ the cod, is all.“ 

“Shut the fook up, ye fookin’ taig.” 

I shrugged. “Call me what you want, but I was workin' on a car, at McClosky’s, and me mate went actin’ stupid and got under it to play and kicked it off its block. This is from the rear wing hittin' him as it fell. Me boss tied his arm and it took the three of us to set the car right.” 

"On a St'ruday?" 

"Who said it happened today?" 

“Ye fookin’ liar! Ye fix cars? A nobody like yerself?” 

I snorted, this time. “I can fix any car there is!” 

He smiled at me, cold and hard. “Yeah? I got a Defender leaks oil. Nobody can tell me why. All the seals are good and no cracks in the block. What the fookin' shite is wrong wit’ it?” 

“What’s the year?” 

“...Sixty-one.” 

“Model” 

“S-4.” 

“Is the head tight?” 

“’Course it fookin’ is.” 

“Sure of that? If you put a normal jointing on, it needs to twice be turned, to be sure. I used double joints and compounds when I fixed Dr. Wiler’s; went hard on the fastening. Colm helped me with the last turn of the spanner, didn't ya?” 

That's when I noticed the one ugly mug who looked familiar was running his hands up and down Colm, slow and grabby. But me China stayed cold as ice and said, without hesitation, “It was bloody hard. Bloody thing won’t come off without major surgery, for certain.” 

“Hasn’t had a leak since,” I said, making myself smile. Christ, that bastard groping Colm looked more and more familiar.

Then I saw Danny was watching him, his eyes wide and wary, and I felt my heart drop.

Another soldier came up. “What 'bout a Volvo 122? Shifter comes out the gear box.” 

“That’s the bloody car’s design," I said, keeping my voice light. "Put it back in and screw it closed, is all you need do.” 

Danny was starting to shake. Oh...no...no...no... 

“Not what me mechanic said. Needs doin’ just right, fasten down just right. Glove repositioned.” 

I barely kept my voice normal as I said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and how much’d he hit you for?” 

“...Ten quid.” 

“Each time?” 

“I...I didn’t say it was more’n once.” 

I saw that same bastard was now shifting to Danny, and me China was starting to breathe heavy and I was growing wary. I had to make myself chuckle. “Next time it comes out, put it in yourself and see what happens.” 

“So you do know cars.” 

It was a Sergeant speaking, from behind me. I shrugged. "I fix things." 

The soldier began his mauling, up one of Danny's legs, grinning and growling like a hyena, then shoving his hand up around Danny's arse and...and then I caught it. He was the same bastard who'd fingered my arse. 

Danny was shaking, his fingers digging into the wall. Oh, shite, oh, shite, oh, shite, this could go so bad, so easy. Danny freaks out. The soldiers pile on and we're all snatched and...and... 

And then I noticed some older women in the queue, a couple of whom I knew, glaring at the fat bastard and without a though suddenly barked, "What the fuck is this? You stickin' your thumb up me arse ain't enough, you wanna do it to me mate, too? Lookin' for dreams to wank off to, when you're alone?" And I was loud with it. 

The bastard spun to me, snarling, "What the fook're you sayin'?" 

I noticed other ladies were casting glances our way so grew louder. "What the fuck, yourself, arsehole. It's not enough you grab my bollocks and stick your nose up me arse, you're gonna do it to all of us? Fuckin' poofter! Gettin' your jollies off goin' up boys' jacksies?!" 

The bastard howled and punched me in the kidney and fuck did it hurt. I cried out. He grabbed the collar of my coat suddenly I'm back in Strand Road and I just know I'm going into that fucking room, again, and that added to my gasps of pain and I'm about to spin into the very howling beast I was afraid Danny would've become... 

But that queue of women heard me. 

They heard me. 

Saw what the bastard was doing. Saw him hit me. And they began spitting furious curses on the man. Words I'd never heard come out of a woman before, not even Mrs. Keogh when she was in a lather. Spitting at all of them. Beginning to close in on them. "What're you doing to them boys, you cunts?" "You bastards gonna try anything with them?" "Big fucks with toy guns beating up on little lads?" "Motherfuckin' bastards!" "Keep your fookin' paws to yerselves, ya sick fucks." 

Colm burst out with, "That fookin' bastard groped me! An' he was grabbing me mate's arse. Me mate's an altar boy! Never a stitch of trouble to him and this ape's gonna drag him off for his sick fun!" 

Oh, did the ol' cows howl even more. Poofters and Homos and Nancy Boys, and I'd swear I heard a few cocksuckers in there. It was glorious. Others began to come over, from Waterloo, both men and women, to see what the noise was about. 

The paras started to get nervous and now held their weapons at the ready, in case this hoard of middle-aged ladies took it upon themselves to attack. If I hadn't been so winded by the bastard's punch, I'd have laughed at the cowardice in them, but then I looked at Danny...and he was still in position, staring at the wall as if frozen, his fingers still digging into the brick, shaking. Like I had been...for hours...and I started begging in my mind, Please, Danny, please don't let go, not yet, not now. Please. I held on. I held on. You can, too. 

That's when an officer of some kind quickly put himself between the howling women and his men and snapped at the bastard who'd been mauling Danny, "What the devil's going on, Collins?" 

"No idea, sor," he said, his voice suddenly weak and cowardly. "Just sorchin' the little fooks." 

I noticed that comment had jolted Danny, and he was now looking at me. And he seemed much calmer. Oh, thank the heavens. 

Colm was still against the wall, as well, but also watching him. 

Another soldier backed over, eyes on the snarling crowd, his fingers itching to pull the trigger of his rifle. "We sendin’ 'em off or snatchin’ ‘em?" 

The big bastard was fool enough to say, “Sir, I’d swear these little bas'ards was slingin’ stones at Magilligan.” 

That made the officer sigh and shake his head. "Collins, how the devil would you know that? You weren't even there. Christ." Then he turned and walked away. 

The soldier who'd asked me about the S4 said, “Off wit’ ye.” And he called, "Thanks." 

As if that made everything fine. 

Colm pulled me up by my collar and kicked Danny, jolting him back into this moment, and off we went. 

Fast. 

So fast, we were halfway down Fahan before I had to stop, I'd started coughing mad, and not from that punch. 

Colm pulled me around a corner, behind a tin wall, Danny right with us. I noticed them both looking at me, their eyes lost in confusion as Colm murmured, “You didn’t cough once in front of that fat bastard.” 

I couldn't speak. Just coughed.

The Good Earth

 I'm reading Pearl S Buck's story about a poor farmer in China, Wang Lung, who buys a wife/slave, O-Lan, and treats her like crap even as he slowly accumulates wealth and respect thanks in no small measure to her. He manages to keep his land despite famine and flood, she bears him three sons and two daughters and builds him a stable home, including taking care of his elderly father, and his repayment of her service is to buy a pretty girl named Lotus and install her in the same house so he can sleep with her. He's a real shit...and a typical man thinking only about himself.

I'd seen the 1937 movie version, where Paul Muni played Wang Lung and Luise Ranier played O-Lan, and it's interesting to find how massively they changed the story from the book. It's basically the same plotline, but the thrilling moments in the movie are all but tossed off in the book. Like the plague of locusts. Takes up 1 1/2 pages while in the movie it's a breathtaking scene. And in the book Wang Lung never loves O-Lan but is consistently wondering at her plain features and silence.

But what's most interesting about this is...I actually prefer the movie, because the book seems to have an...I don't know...a layer of reserve to it, even as it's talking about Wang Lung lusting after Lotus and O-Lan dying a slow and agonizing death.

I brought the book with me to read on the plane and in the evenings because packing jobs make me weary and I never like what I write if I make myself sit down at the laptop at the end of the day. And it is engrossing. Pearl S Buck has a disarming style that glides along and keeps its telling on the level of Wang Lung's ability to understand. He's illiterate but crafty and very much a man of his time caught in superstitions and awareness of social strata as well as how to handle selling his crops for a better price. It reminded me of Harper Lee's style, in many ways.

I'm almost done with it, and I'm finding that old adage is true -- in order to become a better writer, you need to read. It's given me hints on how to better tell Brendan's story, even if his is in first person instead of third.

I'd gotten away from that because several of the modern books I'd read just weren't up to speed, for me. The last time I truly enjoyed a contemporary writer was Jay McInerny's Story of my Life, and that was a few decades ago, when I still lived in Houston.

Damn...time is disappearing around me.