L.A. Fields's Blog, page 2
April 30, 2022
Real People/Fake Stories
I was interviewed about storytelling by a pair of comedians! The topic: Fiction Writing Around Real People. Highlights include:
Gay Sherlock Holmes, gay Abraham Lincoln, gay everybody (with citations)
Creating sympathies for murderers by following the example of Mr. Clarence Darrow in the Leopold and Loeb case
What happens when you're caught reading in Florida
Also touched on: If you don't have something nice to say, maybe don't say anything at all, because public reviews become the property of the person you dislike.This was delightful, thanks y'all! Find more of Drew and DJ online.Hear and see the interview on YouTube here.
First up, Homo Superiors: a retelling of the Leopold and Loeb crime of 1924, set post-cell phones and pre-COVID. They were teenage thrill killers who murdered a 14-year-old boy to see if they were smart enough to get away with it (and spoiler alert: they were not).
While writing this book, I went to Rosehill Cemetery in Chicago to find the victim’s mausoleum, which is chained shut against looky-loos like me. BUT it’s also decorated with tiny toys, flowers, and remembrances from other visitors, so we’re not all bad. I also found the parents of both killers, to whom I apologized for essentially digging up these graves again, and giving an infamous case more oxygen. Full disclosure, I did have my picture taken sitting on the Leopold obelisk and the Loeb bench but hey—cemeteries are for the living, not the dead.
In my book Homo Superiors, their family structures are the same, the names are similar (instead of Leopold and Loeb it’s Kaplan and Klein). But typewriter letters become texts, and I felt a lot more comfortable taking artistic license. For example: Leopold’s mother died on him about the same age as mine did. I felt freer to invest some of my feelings into a character based on a real person, without attributing those thoughts to him specifically. Interesting fact: Leopold was actually very litigious about another fictionalized book published during his lifetime, Compulsion — he obnoxiously took notes during the legal talks in a dead language (Sanskrit) so that no one else could read them. That’s a fact I included in my book, because it’s quite a personality trait.
I was also delighted to include a dirty detail from a sidebar conversation in the courtroom transcript. Turns out, there were a few unsatisfactory blow job attempts between Leopold and Loeb, who had a sex-for-crime pact. Because of me, that tidbit is now in the greater LnL canon of adaptations — no one could have heard this fact at the time of the trial, and none of the historical books have so far included it because they aren’t in it for the right scandalous reasons like I am. In fact, the women reporters in the roaring 20s were forced to leave the courtroom when any sex topics came up, but not the murder details. Go figure — in Al Capone’s Chicago they thought talk of genitals would make the gals faint, but not gruesome killings.
This writing method is like one of my all-time favorites: Poppy Z. Brite’s Exquisite Corpse. That novel has characters based heavily on serial killers Jeffrey Dahmer and Dennis Nilsen, but fictionalized so they could meet and cause even more trouble. Basically: you take the best, leave the rest, and enjoy full artistic license because you’re not a reporter or a historian, you’re just here to have a good bad time.
Next up: My Dear Watson, Gay A Day, and Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories.
My Dear Watson came first, and has a Sherlock Holmes who exists in the real world with Oscar Wilde and gross indecency trials, not the magical world of Dorian Gray and cursed portraits. Next came the Gay A Day book, mini bios of LGBT folks from history, capped at 200 words each — just little bonbons of information. Since I couldn’t fit all my favorite history details into the Gay A Day coffee table book, I put some of those real people into the fictional frame of the latest book of connected shorts: Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories. In Mrs. Watson’s diaries I could feature all the gossip that was just too good to let go! For example:
In Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories, Holmes and the Watsons talk of the Oscar Wilde crew, quoting letters, court transcripts, and newspaper clippings. One sweet bit of information involves Oscar’s very good friend Robbie Ross, who’s entombed with him in Paris — when Ross died of heart failure, it was after a lifetime of managing Oscar’s estate for his wife and children, and mentoring other young gay men in the arts. One of those men was poet Siegfried Sassoon who remarked of Robbie’s death: “It was the only time that his heart had ever failed him.”
In another story, Holmes meets A.E. Housman, and portions of that conversation are taken verbatim from letters and biographies. True details like: despite being a very strict Latin professor and extremely paranoid about his privacy, Housman wrote highly sentimental rhyming poetry for his friend and unrequited love Moses Jackson. He also liked dirty jokes! He laughed intensely when one man forgot to pack spare pants to give a university lecture, and had to borrow a pair from Housman that needed to be split up the back to fit. On his deathbed Housman was told a joke by the doctor and said as his more-or-less final words, “Very good. I shall have to repeat that on the Golden Floor.”
My Sherlock Holmes also knows what many still don’t know about Lawrence of Arabia, which is that he hired men to come whip him while he exercised naked under some elaborate “my uncle made me do it!” scheme. Very big masochist, perhaps why he did so well in the punishing desert.
In a different story, Holmes tells of Abraham Lincoln’s best friend Joshua Speed, who picked up that beanpole bumpkin on his first night in town. From Speed’s own version of events: Lincoln arrived at Speed’s general store asking for credit because he couldn’t afford a bed. Speed basically said my “my bed’s right upstairs,” and Abe dropped off his bag and came back down to say, “Well Speed, I’m moved.” I bet he was, and what a sweet meet-cute moment! I also included details of some other men Lincoln shared his bed with—like his presidential bodyguard who “[made] use of his excellency’s nightshirt” on more than one occasion when Mrs. Lincoln was away.
My Holmes also points out that there’s one special edition of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass which has little sperms drawn on the title page, and that when Lincoln once saw Walt Whitman walking all proud and languid across the street from the White House he said distractedly, “HE looks like a MAN” (emphasis Abe’s).
I grouped the Mrs. Watson stories into little themed sets like:
Gay and lesbian kings and queens who are discussed over a chess game. If you’d like to know what’s gay about the King James Bible … it’s King James.
Another story talks of suicide with people like poet and rough trade enthusiast Hart Crane who — after getting beaten up for propositioning the wrong guy — jumped off a boat to his death exclaiming “Goodbye everybody!” Also mountaineer-in-skirts Freda du Faur who stuck her head in the oven after her lover was killed by cure-the-gay shock treatments. There are still two mountains standing in New Zealand that Freda climbed first and named after herself and her lover, Muriel.
In another story we take a trip to the symphony to hear Tchaikovsky and learn that he was in love with his own nephew. He once wrote to the boy saying, “If you do not want to write, at least spit on a piece of paper, put it in an envelope, and send it to me. You are not taking any notice of me at all. God forgive you—”
There’s a Halloween story for the deeply closeted Bram Stoker who, funnily enough, married a woman once engaged to Oscar Wilde which, yikes! That was like a Judy Garland streak of gay suitors for poor Florence, that’s tough.
Another story talks of ‘Boston marriages’ which is when two unmarried women set up household together. In that one, the Watsons learn of Anne Lister aka Gentleman Jack, who has her own HBO series now, recommending that to everybody. They learn of Nell Pickerell aka Harry Allen or Harry Livingston — pool sticker, brawler, and champion wooer of women if the papers can be believed (and they actually can’t). They learn of Albert DJ Cashier, born Jennie Hodgers, a Civil War veteran who died in an asylum for women because doctors insisted he was crazy when they found out — Albert’s death came from a fall after he tripped on the hem of a dress they made him to wear. But he still had a funeral with full military honors supplied by The Grand Army of the Republic, that notoriously woke military.
This writing method is like the books I’m reading now, Narratives of Empire by Gore Vidal. That series features American historical figures like Lincoln and Aaron Burr. At the end of Burr, Vidal explains, “I have tried to keep to the known facts. In three instances, I have moved people about [but] Otherwise, the characters are in the right places, on the right dates, doing what they actually did.” I did about the same in my historical novels, including going so far as to look up the museum pieces on display, and a hotel’s exact menu, on one very particular day in the past.
Gay Sherlock Holmes, gay Abraham Lincoln, gay everybody (with citations)
Creating sympathies for murderers by following the example of Mr. Clarence Darrow in the Leopold and Loeb case
What happens when you're caught reading in Florida
Also touched on: If you don't have something nice to say, maybe don't say anything at all, because public reviews become the property of the person you dislike.This was delightful, thanks y'all! Find more of Drew and DJ online.Hear and see the interview on YouTube here.
Full notes:
My name is Lauren, but I publish under my initials L.A. Fields. I refer to myself as a Jill-of-all-trades for writing because my books include: novels and short stories, contemporary and historical, scholarship and erotica.
The topic I’d like to discuss today: Fiction Writing Around Real People. One method involves fictionalizing real people, and the other involves putting real people into fiction.
First up, Homo Superiors: a retelling of the Leopold and Loeb crime of 1924, set post-cell phones and pre-COVID. They were teenage thrill killers who murdered a 14-year-old boy to see if they were smart enough to get away with it (and spoiler alert: they were not).
While writing this book, I went to Rosehill Cemetery in Chicago to find the victim’s mausoleum, which is chained shut against looky-loos like me. BUT it’s also decorated with tiny toys, flowers, and remembrances from other visitors, so we’re not all bad. I also found the parents of both killers, to whom I apologized for essentially digging up these graves again, and giving an infamous case more oxygen. Full disclosure, I did have my picture taken sitting on the Leopold obelisk and the Loeb bench but hey—cemeteries are for the living, not the dead.
In my book Homo Superiors, their family structures are the same, the names are similar (instead of Leopold and Loeb it’s Kaplan and Klein). But typewriter letters become texts, and I felt a lot more comfortable taking artistic license. For example: Leopold’s mother died on him about the same age as mine did. I felt freer to invest some of my feelings into a character based on a real person, without attributing those thoughts to him specifically. Interesting fact: Leopold was actually very litigious about another fictionalized book published during his lifetime, Compulsion — he obnoxiously took notes during the legal talks in a dead language (Sanskrit) so that no one else could read them. That’s a fact I included in my book, because it’s quite a personality trait.
I was also delighted to include a dirty detail from a sidebar conversation in the courtroom transcript. Turns out, there were a few unsatisfactory blow job attempts between Leopold and Loeb, who had a sex-for-crime pact. Because of me, that tidbit is now in the greater LnL canon of adaptations — no one could have heard this fact at the time of the trial, and none of the historical books have so far included it because they aren’t in it for the right scandalous reasons like I am. In fact, the women reporters in the roaring 20s were forced to leave the courtroom when any sex topics came up, but not the murder details. Go figure — in Al Capone’s Chicago they thought talk of genitals would make the gals faint, but not gruesome killings.
This writing method is like one of my all-time favorites: Poppy Z. Brite’s Exquisite Corpse. That novel has characters based heavily on serial killers Jeffrey Dahmer and Dennis Nilsen, but fictionalized so they could meet and cause even more trouble. Basically: you take the best, leave the rest, and enjoy full artistic license because you’re not a reporter or a historian, you’re just here to have a good bad time.
So that’s Method Number One!
Next up: My Dear Watson, Gay A Day, and Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories.
My Dear Watson came first, and has a Sherlock Holmes who exists in the real world with Oscar Wilde and gross indecency trials, not the magical world of Dorian Gray and cursed portraits. Next came the Gay A Day book, mini bios of LGBT folks from history, capped at 200 words each — just little bonbons of information. Since I couldn’t fit all my favorite history details into the Gay A Day coffee table book, I put some of those real people into the fictional frame of the latest book of connected shorts: Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories. In Mrs. Watson’s diaries I could feature all the gossip that was just too good to let go! For example:
In Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories, Holmes and the Watsons talk of the Oscar Wilde crew, quoting letters, court transcripts, and newspaper clippings. One sweet bit of information involves Oscar’s very good friend Robbie Ross, who’s entombed with him in Paris — when Ross died of heart failure, it was after a lifetime of managing Oscar’s estate for his wife and children, and mentoring other young gay men in the arts. One of those men was poet Siegfried Sassoon who remarked of Robbie’s death: “It was the only time that his heart had ever failed him.”
In another story, Holmes meets A.E. Housman, and portions of that conversation are taken verbatim from letters and biographies. True details like: despite being a very strict Latin professor and extremely paranoid about his privacy, Housman wrote highly sentimental rhyming poetry for his friend and unrequited love Moses Jackson. He also liked dirty jokes! He laughed intensely when one man forgot to pack spare pants to give a university lecture, and had to borrow a pair from Housman that needed to be split up the back to fit. On his deathbed Housman was told a joke by the doctor and said as his more-or-less final words, “Very good. I shall have to repeat that on the Golden Floor.”
My Sherlock Holmes also knows what many still don’t know about Lawrence of Arabia, which is that he hired men to come whip him while he exercised naked under some elaborate “my uncle made me do it!” scheme. Very big masochist, perhaps why he did so well in the punishing desert.
In a different story, Holmes tells of Abraham Lincoln’s best friend Joshua Speed, who picked up that beanpole bumpkin on his first night in town. From Speed’s own version of events: Lincoln arrived at Speed’s general store asking for credit because he couldn’t afford a bed. Speed basically said my “my bed’s right upstairs,” and Abe dropped off his bag and came back down to say, “Well Speed, I’m moved.” I bet he was, and what a sweet meet-cute moment! I also included details of some other men Lincoln shared his bed with—like his presidential bodyguard who “[made] use of his excellency’s nightshirt” on more than one occasion when Mrs. Lincoln was away.
My Holmes also points out that there’s one special edition of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass which has little sperms drawn on the title page, and that when Lincoln once saw Walt Whitman walking all proud and languid across the street from the White House he said distractedly, “HE looks like a MAN” (emphasis Abe’s).
I grouped the Mrs. Watson stories into little themed sets like:
Gay and lesbian kings and queens who are discussed over a chess game. If you’d like to know what’s gay about the King James Bible … it’s King James.
Another story talks of suicide with people like poet and rough trade enthusiast Hart Crane who — after getting beaten up for propositioning the wrong guy — jumped off a boat to his death exclaiming “Goodbye everybody!” Also mountaineer-in-skirts Freda du Faur who stuck her head in the oven after her lover was killed by cure-the-gay shock treatments. There are still two mountains standing in New Zealand that Freda climbed first and named after herself and her lover, Muriel.
In another story we take a trip to the symphony to hear Tchaikovsky and learn that he was in love with his own nephew. He once wrote to the boy saying, “If you do not want to write, at least spit on a piece of paper, put it in an envelope, and send it to me. You are not taking any notice of me at all. God forgive you—”
There’s a Halloween story for the deeply closeted Bram Stoker who, funnily enough, married a woman once engaged to Oscar Wilde which, yikes! That was like a Judy Garland streak of gay suitors for poor Florence, that’s tough.
Another story talks of ‘Boston marriages’ which is when two unmarried women set up household together. In that one, the Watsons learn of Anne Lister aka Gentleman Jack, who has her own HBO series now, recommending that to everybody. They learn of Nell Pickerell aka Harry Allen or Harry Livingston — pool sticker, brawler, and champion wooer of women if the papers can be believed (and they actually can’t). They learn of Albert DJ Cashier, born Jennie Hodgers, a Civil War veteran who died in an asylum for women because doctors insisted he was crazy when they found out — Albert’s death came from a fall after he tripped on the hem of a dress they made him to wear. But he still had a funeral with full military honors supplied by The Grand Army of the Republic, that notoriously woke military.
This writing method is like the books I’m reading now, Narratives of Empire by Gore Vidal. That series features American historical figures like Lincoln and Aaron Burr. At the end of Burr, Vidal explains, “I have tried to keep to the known facts. In three instances, I have moved people about [but] Otherwise, the characters are in the right places, on the right dates, doing what they actually did.” I did about the same in my historical novels, including going so far as to look up the museum pieces on display, and a hotel’s exact menu, on one very particular day in the past.
So in conclusion: Fiction Writing Around Real People, there’s two examples of how it’s done.
Find L.A. Fields wherever you get books (GoodReads, Lethe Press, Rebel Satori Press). Reach out to author_lafields on Twitter, and la_fields on Instagram.
February 9, 2022
An Interview for Mrs. Watson
Out today: an interview with Scott Hess about my latest Lethe Press book, Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories.•"This book is 10 pounds of LGBTQ in a 5-pound bag." •Read the full discussion here!
November 19, 2021
Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories
Say hello to Mrs. Watson!
A follow-up to the Lambda Award finalist My Dear Watson, this collection of historically-inspired tales exposes real secret histories.
These stories also explore the evolution of friendship between Sherlock Holmes, his former lover Dr. Watson, and the doctor's clever and tolerant wife.
Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories will scandalize and satisfy. Currently on sale direct from indie publisher Lethe Press!
October 19, 2021
New Release—Blood on His Hands: A Vampire Erotica Anthology
Out just in time for Halloween,
Blood on His Hands: A Vampire Erotica Anthology
from Lethe Press!
The collection features my story "Invite the Night" about a mysterious disappearance at a boys' prep school that reveals a young creature of the night.
The collection features my story "Invite the Night" about a mysterious disappearance at a boys' prep school that reveals a young creature of the night.
May 21, 2021
The Crime of Last Century
A very un-merry murder-versary to you all, on this, the 97th year since the Leopold and Loeb crime of the 20th century. It's also the 5th anniversary since my contribution to the canon came out,
Homo Superiors
, and it’s been quite a journey.
In creating the book it went from:
Me, some Florida teen wishing she too had an exclusive murder BFF and possibly boyfriend
Post-college graduate moves to the mythical Chicago to experience seasonal affective disorder firsthand (100% thought that wasn’t a thing until it came for me, I had Sunshine State privilege)
Grad student in Chicago, learning how to take trains and taxis, going to a scant handful of locations the characters ultimately visited (Ed Debevic’s, the International Museum of Surgical Science, that big ol’ lake out there), and writing the first half of the book
Whoops, job in South Korea right after MFA graduation, finished the book while teaching children approximately the age of the murder victim (it actually helped me teach better, knowing I wasn’t going to kill any kids but also knowing that one could, and pretty easily too—it lowered teacher's blood pressure)
Actually writing the last word of the manuscript on the 91st anniversary of the crime (because it’s fun when real life syncs with fiction like that, and I lean into it)
In publishing Homo Superiors, the reviews have been fabulously mixed:
The Good: “The dialogue is snappy and the writing is enticing [...] Normally in literature, it’s quite a challenge to get a reader to support protagonists who commit crimes, especially as casually as these two do, but Fields woos the reader into the characters’ court quite successfully.” One consistent accolade I’ve gotten across genres and arenas (it was true of my college papers and thesis too) is for excellent dialogue, banter, and voice. This is why I’m trying my hand at scripts these days! Gotta test that mettle.
The Bad: “The book is intelligent and well-crafted. But it celebrates nothing. It teaches us nothing. I hope Fields’ fascination with the unhappiest aspects of homosexuality does not become the hallmark of her writing career.” This is from a largely unfavorable review (quick summary: writing good, topic bad) that has apparently been scrubbed from the internet so I won’t name who wrote it or where, but it was a shocker for me (I was sitting on a morning bus to a dead-end job in Dallas when it alerted my phone). The review accused the book of being bad for teens (it isn’t for teens, it’s about them), bad for gay people (is the Leopold character a self-hating gay and the Loeb character an opportunistic sociopath? I don’t think so, but like a Rorschach inkblot test, readers may see patterns that writers don’t intend), and bad for the Jewish community (yeah but…that’s just because Leopold and Loeb were bad for their Jewish community—they were terrible press, extremely wayward sons). I’m almost sad the review’s gone now, it was a hell of a curiosity and still called my writing “amusing” and “elegant” so I got over the rest of it and took the compliment in the end.
The Famous: “As it stands, however, [Fields has] acquitted herself as a modern-day Clarence Darrow, creating as compelling a brief for the defense as Noah Kaplan (or Nathan Leopold) could possibly hope to have. She writes so arrestingly of thwarted desire and social awkwardness that readers may briefly believe themselves to be inside Noah’s own skin. Overall, it’s a thoroughly unsettling book.” I didn’t know what the significance of a starred Kirkus review was before I got one, and I still don’t. I’m a Millennial narcissist and that’s just how it is. But people I respect were very impressed, and only the diehard fans noticed the inaccuracies in it (misattributed quotes and historical wrongs—Leopold and Loeb didn’t “laboriously chisel” their victim’s head apart, they picked a fight with a child who trusted them and suffocated him, as cowards do). That being said, if I’m getting compared to Clarence Darrow, I must be doing something right!
In fans, the book has found a home.
Over the years, this book out of all the 10+ I’ve published (so far) has touched the exact folks I was reaching towards, specifically the kind of person I was before I’d ever written anything of publishable quality, and just wanted to find someone who was on my strange wavelength, and who saw exactly what I saw in the inkblot. From the person who commented on my Tumblr picture of a stack of Advanced Reading Copies and asked how I got the new L/L book so early (I wrote it!), to the first wave of fellow Millennials telling me (at my vain request) their favorite moments, to the new wave of Gen Zers bringing the fanart (I post those gems on my Instagram)…it’s so rewarding. It’s everything I hoped it would be, and no amount of money could ever buy it.
Only the experience of being a fan myself (as problematic as it is with these shitbirds), and knowing what was missing from every book before mine (less courtroom more courtship, amirite?!), and completing half-a-dozen other creative projects over about a decade, prepared me to execute this one just as I imagined it.
For the average reader of gay or crime or gaycrime fiction, the structure may be confusing and the ending will definitely be abrupt, but for the fellow members of my tribe: I’m so glad you like the present I made you! Cheers to the new century.
In creating the book it went from:
Me, some Florida teen wishing she too had an exclusive murder BFF and possibly boyfriend
Post-college graduate moves to the mythical Chicago to experience seasonal affective disorder firsthand (100% thought that wasn’t a thing until it came for me, I had Sunshine State privilege)
Grad student in Chicago, learning how to take trains and taxis, going to a scant handful of locations the characters ultimately visited (Ed Debevic’s, the International Museum of Surgical Science, that big ol’ lake out there), and writing the first half of the book
Whoops, job in South Korea right after MFA graduation, finished the book while teaching children approximately the age of the murder victim (it actually helped me teach better, knowing I wasn’t going to kill any kids but also knowing that one could, and pretty easily too—it lowered teacher's blood pressure)
Actually writing the last word of the manuscript on the 91st anniversary of the crime (because it’s fun when real life syncs with fiction like that, and I lean into it)
In publishing Homo Superiors, the reviews have been fabulously mixed:
The Good: “The dialogue is snappy and the writing is enticing [...] Normally in literature, it’s quite a challenge to get a reader to support protagonists who commit crimes, especially as casually as these two do, but Fields woos the reader into the characters’ court quite successfully.” One consistent accolade I’ve gotten across genres and arenas (it was true of my college papers and thesis too) is for excellent dialogue, banter, and voice. This is why I’m trying my hand at scripts these days! Gotta test that mettle.
The Bad: “The book is intelligent and well-crafted. But it celebrates nothing. It teaches us nothing. I hope Fields’ fascination with the unhappiest aspects of homosexuality does not become the hallmark of her writing career.” This is from a largely unfavorable review (quick summary: writing good, topic bad) that has apparently been scrubbed from the internet so I won’t name who wrote it or where, but it was a shocker for me (I was sitting on a morning bus to a dead-end job in Dallas when it alerted my phone). The review accused the book of being bad for teens (it isn’t for teens, it’s about them), bad for gay people (is the Leopold character a self-hating gay and the Loeb character an opportunistic sociopath? I don’t think so, but like a Rorschach inkblot test, readers may see patterns that writers don’t intend), and bad for the Jewish community (yeah but…that’s just because Leopold and Loeb were bad for their Jewish community—they were terrible press, extremely wayward sons). I’m almost sad the review’s gone now, it was a hell of a curiosity and still called my writing “amusing” and “elegant” so I got over the rest of it and took the compliment in the end.
The Famous: “As it stands, however, [Fields has] acquitted herself as a modern-day Clarence Darrow, creating as compelling a brief for the defense as Noah Kaplan (or Nathan Leopold) could possibly hope to have. She writes so arrestingly of thwarted desire and social awkwardness that readers may briefly believe themselves to be inside Noah’s own skin. Overall, it’s a thoroughly unsettling book.” I didn’t know what the significance of a starred Kirkus review was before I got one, and I still don’t. I’m a Millennial narcissist and that’s just how it is. But people I respect were very impressed, and only the diehard fans noticed the inaccuracies in it (misattributed quotes and historical wrongs—Leopold and Loeb didn’t “laboriously chisel” their victim’s head apart, they picked a fight with a child who trusted them and suffocated him, as cowards do). That being said, if I’m getting compared to Clarence Darrow, I must be doing something right!
In fans, the book has found a home.
Over the years, this book out of all the 10+ I’ve published (so far) has touched the exact folks I was reaching towards, specifically the kind of person I was before I’d ever written anything of publishable quality, and just wanted to find someone who was on my strange wavelength, and who saw exactly what I saw in the inkblot. From the person who commented on my Tumblr picture of a stack of Advanced Reading Copies and asked how I got the new L/L book so early (I wrote it!), to the first wave of fellow Millennials telling me (at my vain request) their favorite moments, to the new wave of Gen Zers bringing the fanart (I post those gems on my Instagram)…it’s so rewarding. It’s everything I hoped it would be, and no amount of money could ever buy it.
Only the experience of being a fan myself (as problematic as it is with these shitbirds), and knowing what was missing from every book before mine (less courtroom more courtship, amirite?!), and completing half-a-dozen other creative projects over about a decade, prepared me to execute this one just as I imagined it.
For the average reader of gay or crime or gaycrime fiction, the structure may be confusing and the ending will definitely be abrupt, but for the fellow members of my tribe: I’m so glad you like the present I made you! Cheers to the new century.
May 8, 2021
Epic
Long-term projects continue as I remain in isolation for semi-pandemic reasons. Sure, I'm vaccinated, but not everyone else is yet, and I also have nowhere to go and nothing to do and no extra money to spend while I remain on unemployment sooo...the endurance goes on. Projects include:
Cat
Kobb the kitty has healed beautifully from her dental surgery (six teeth had to be pulled because she's an older baby) and non-cancerous bump removal. We're finding her new favorite food together, and it is Purina (not other brands), pâté (not other soft foods like shreds or chunks), and poultry (beef is a C- to her and fish is suspect). She turns 11 years old this month!
Marathons
I tried to read the King James Bible as a teenager with my eyeballs, which I found too overwhelming when I kept hitting long strings of "X begat Y who begat Z," so I quit. The Bible, Dante's Divine Comedy, and Great Expectations are the only books I quit reading because they were taxing me too much in high school (I tried to read the Dante alongside the Bible—too similar, do not recommend). Now that I've discovered the joy of super-speed audiobooks however, I'm finishing all three, starting with the hardest: ye olde Holy Booky. I'll also do the Apocrypha after this, and other religions' texts, because if not now, when, am I right? When else am I going to be on Year Two of this strange sort of house arrest? It's not a faith thing, it's a compulsion thing, and I'm finding fun gems in the rubble like the phrase "uncircumcised lips" which scholars don't seem to understand, and that the lyrics from "Turn! Turn! Turn!" are actually mostly from the Book of Ecclesiastes.
Anyway, that specific King James was gay for George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, and cited Jesus' extra special love for John for why it was okay, and no one else in his ugly-ass court could say boo about it (that's almost a direct quote). I would have gone with David and Jonathan maybe, or at least cited both, but whatever works to get those favorites in bed, judge not lest ye be judged, etc. Speaking of marathons, I'm also watching The Simpsons from the beginning, and Dallas the show since I live in Dallas the city, and other massive shows with 200+ and 300+ episodes. Time wastes me, I waste time right back, this is how I'm dealing with 2021.
Mother
It's Mother's Day weekend, and though she's been gone for over 15 years, I still think of my mother often, and not always fondly. There's a lot of unresolved garbage there that can't be dealt with through the grave. It's a strange balance to miss someone who—should she still be alive—could easily not have liked me at all. For a long time, grief only called up all the good times had and unhad, but after a while that dulls, and the bad memories bubble up too (the failures and cruelties and ignorance and abuse). Gotta stir that in with all the love and pity from previous phases of mourning, so that's also how it's going this year.
Epic
As I'm trying to cram every difficult piece of literature into my head before I'm employed again (Infinite Jest, anyone?), I realized that my Riot Son project is becoming a passable attempt at the mythic Next Great American Novel. I'm inserting a lot of historical context for a once-in-a-generation moment that the characters are falling in love during, and while it's not encyclopedic (no Ulysses), they don't have to be (The Great Gatsby). I'm not saying it'll ever be considered curriculum alongside those others, but it could, that's the trick, and academia isn't the sole arbiter anyway. Cleaner than On the Road, and gayer than all of them! Why not? To be submitted for consideration as soon as I finish it (I'm halfway there already, 50%), and secure an agent (which is in the works, process ongoing).
Cat
Kobb the kitty has healed beautifully from her dental surgery (six teeth had to be pulled because she's an older baby) and non-cancerous bump removal. We're finding her new favorite food together, and it is Purina (not other brands), pâté (not other soft foods like shreds or chunks), and poultry (beef is a C- to her and fish is suspect). She turns 11 years old this month!
Marathons
I tried to read the King James Bible as a teenager with my eyeballs, which I found too overwhelming when I kept hitting long strings of "X begat Y who begat Z," so I quit. The Bible, Dante's Divine Comedy, and Great Expectations are the only books I quit reading because they were taxing me too much in high school (I tried to read the Dante alongside the Bible—too similar, do not recommend). Now that I've discovered the joy of super-speed audiobooks however, I'm finishing all three, starting with the hardest: ye olde Holy Booky. I'll also do the Apocrypha after this, and other religions' texts, because if not now, when, am I right? When else am I going to be on Year Two of this strange sort of house arrest? It's not a faith thing, it's a compulsion thing, and I'm finding fun gems in the rubble like the phrase "uncircumcised lips" which scholars don't seem to understand, and that the lyrics from "Turn! Turn! Turn!" are actually mostly from the Book of Ecclesiastes.
Anyway, that specific King James was gay for George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, and cited Jesus' extra special love for John for why it was okay, and no one else in his ugly-ass court could say boo about it (that's almost a direct quote). I would have gone with David and Jonathan maybe, or at least cited both, but whatever works to get those favorites in bed, judge not lest ye be judged, etc. Speaking of marathons, I'm also watching The Simpsons from the beginning, and Dallas the show since I live in Dallas the city, and other massive shows with 200+ and 300+ episodes. Time wastes me, I waste time right back, this is how I'm dealing with 2021.
Mother
It's Mother's Day weekend, and though she's been gone for over 15 years, I still think of my mother often, and not always fondly. There's a lot of unresolved garbage there that can't be dealt with through the grave. It's a strange balance to miss someone who—should she still be alive—could easily not have liked me at all. For a long time, grief only called up all the good times had and unhad, but after a while that dulls, and the bad memories bubble up too (the failures and cruelties and ignorance and abuse). Gotta stir that in with all the love and pity from previous phases of mourning, so that's also how it's going this year.
Epic
As I'm trying to cram every difficult piece of literature into my head before I'm employed again (Infinite Jest, anyone?), I realized that my Riot Son project is becoming a passable attempt at the mythic Next Great American Novel. I'm inserting a lot of historical context for a once-in-a-generation moment that the characters are falling in love during, and while it's not encyclopedic (no Ulysses), they don't have to be (The Great Gatsby). I'm not saying it'll ever be considered curriculum alongside those others, but it could, that's the trick, and academia isn't the sole arbiter anyway. Cleaner than On the Road, and gayer than all of them! Why not? To be submitted for consideration as soon as I finish it (I'm halfway there already, 50%), and secure an agent (which is in the works, process ongoing).
March 29, 2021
Uprising
Things are looking up:
- I've received both doses of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine and will soon be fully immune. The relief is real, I'm already less paranoid when going down to get my mail, and I'm dreaming about visiting my sister in South Korea, possibly as early as this fall (should they relax their quarantine restrictions for vaccinated travelers). Optimism! It's been a while.
- I won a year's worth of coffee from Too Strong Coffee for commenting on an Instagram post (great value for the effort involved). I am looking forward to sharing some with my sister because she loves coffee more than me and is constantly on the lookout for recyclable packaging around clean/organic, fair-trade foodstuffs. I mostly like the progressive funding this coffee company does, plus the cheeky name of the breakfast blend (Uprising—snort), so we're all having fun with this one.
- Coincidentally I'll be drinking this coffee while working on my radical new solo writing project, Riot Son. Basically, I'm spending this summer setting a story during the protests of last summer. It's a summer romance starring legal observer and sideline types (your reporters, lawyers, and medics) interspersed with leftist rants and research so far (at about 20% completion). It's also possibly the easiest book I've ever written. Maybe after writing around fifteen different kinds of projects I'm just really well-practiced at it by now, or maybe it's because for the first time in a long time this one is a whim, a flight of fancy, and not an assignment (the last few books have been commissioned, collaborative, or were on my self-imposed 10-books-by-age-30 schedule). Riot Son I keep contributing to early, and putting aside other fun things to work on. Writing has never felt less like a chore since I first started doing it, and I find it sweet that this love of the game is still in me, I hope I never lose it.
- I've received both doses of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine and will soon be fully immune. The relief is real, I'm already less paranoid when going down to get my mail, and I'm dreaming about visiting my sister in South Korea, possibly as early as this fall (should they relax their quarantine restrictions for vaccinated travelers). Optimism! It's been a while.
- I won a year's worth of coffee from Too Strong Coffee for commenting on an Instagram post (great value for the effort involved). I am looking forward to sharing some with my sister because she loves coffee more than me and is constantly on the lookout for recyclable packaging around clean/organic, fair-trade foodstuffs. I mostly like the progressive funding this coffee company does, plus the cheeky name of the breakfast blend (Uprising—snort), so we're all having fun with this one.
- Coincidentally I'll be drinking this coffee while working on my radical new solo writing project, Riot Son. Basically, I'm spending this summer setting a story during the protests of last summer. It's a summer romance starring legal observer and sideline types (your reporters, lawyers, and medics) interspersed with leftist rants and research so far (at about 20% completion). It's also possibly the easiest book I've ever written. Maybe after writing around fifteen different kinds of projects I'm just really well-practiced at it by now, or maybe it's because for the first time in a long time this one is a whim, a flight of fancy, and not an assignment (the last few books have been commissioned, collaborative, or were on my self-imposed 10-books-by-age-30 schedule). Riot Son I keep contributing to early, and putting aside other fun things to work on. Writing has never felt less like a chore since I first started doing it, and I find it sweet that this love of the game is still in me, I hope I never lose it.
March 18, 2021
New Story: “Whatever a Body Is Not Obliged to Do”
I have a new story in the inaugural issue of Bachelors (Lethe Press), an occasional webzine that is free to all.“Whatever a Body Is Not Obliged to Do” queers Mark Twain’s classic characters Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, and I dare you to claim that’s an unrealistic portrayal, as it’s well established that Tom Sawyer can talk a body into anything.
Check it out along with stories by Ryan Vance, Will Ludwigsen, and Nick Mamatas: Bachelors, Vol. 1
December 31, 2020
Breaking: The 21st Year of the 21st Century
My plans for 2020 were:
- Attend an MFA reunionThis kinda happened in the spring, for an hour or two on Zoom. A group of writers, a year inside: I better hear about everybody's pandemic project next year.
- Visit family in South KoreaLOL NOPE. Originally the plan was to go in October, but when it arrived I couldn't get there by law, by hook, or by crook because of COVID-19 restrictions.
- Health check (in Korea)NOPE AGAIN. The reason I meant to do this in Korea is because even when I do have health insurance in my own country, it's intermittent, still prohibitively expensive, and not comprehensive. Meanwhile, in Korea I could get an entire inside-and-out body evaluation (bones, blood, weight, vaccines, vitamin deficiencies, allergies, cancer screening, and other bodily curiosities) for $500. I also get dental care for $40 whenever I visit (x-rays and cleaning), so even with the flight and hotel factored in it's a great deal, comparatively, because the United States is killing us with corruption.
- Save moneySort of I did this? When I wrote it down I had a job that disappeared about a month later, but since I was able to get on unemployment quickly and have always lived below my means, while I haven't saved any extra money, I have at least maintained the savings I built up before. Turns out what I was saving for was weathering the third recession of my lifetime. That averages one per decade! Someone tell my boomer relatives these conditions aren't what they used to be.
- Become pescatarianSuccess, however, I tried to go further into mostly vegan and ultimately wiped out because of cheese. I love it too much and am weak in moral fiber (is there a supplement for that?) and so have slipped back to consuming certain low-lactose milk products. I'm sure there's a compound name for what I'm doing (no eggs, yes cheese, no land meat, yes sea flesh, no preference pro or con on honey) but I'm not fully dedicated to any of it, just trying to make better choices and not consume factory-processed livestock meat because I know how the sausage is made, and it's not okay. My cat is also no vegan, she eats poultry, so I'll never be all the way out of the game as long as I'm feeding my favorite little carnivore.
- Write 1 TV script This did not manifest in 2020, but it's scheduled to be first up in 2021. My collaboration buddy and I find that scripts aren't that hard or time-consuming to write...if we're in the right headspace. The pandemic year was not that headspace.
- Write 2 novelsYEP. One was a solo project, a follow-up to My Dear Watson written in diary form (look forward to Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories soon!). The other was a collaborative novel that I did the lion's share of writing on (because I'm the unemployed one), based on one of our shared script projects. If anyone picks up any part of it, we've got the full show and novel tie-ins ready to go, a nice package deal.
Other highlights of the year include:- I increased my fitness efforts from two days a week to three and lost another 5-10 pounds because of it (neat!).- I can now comprehend TV/movies/podcasts at 3x-4x playback speed. I'm very proud of this, I tell everyone about it, I feel like I'm reaching higher heights and am approaching the galaxy brain stage, etc.- Due to these speed records, I now find reading via my slow human eyes to be pretty basic, and so at long last I've embraced audiobooks. Difficult books are easier to take in if someone else reads them to you, dull books are easier to tolerate if sped through, and if you can digitize a book at all you can make the computer machine read it for you (it's not perfect, but it is preferable to me now).
My plans for 2021 are:
- Write 1 TV script (at least) and 2 more novels (also at least)One promised script, maybe scriptifying an old project, then one or two collaborative novels (we have two outlines that are ready to go and these years are LONG), plus one solo project if I can find some new inspiration. Also, I have a short story commission for January, going to start small and grow as time and stress permit.
- Find a job (???)This isn't something I can really control, but I check for jobs regularly and apply when it's at all appropriate before sinking back into isolation...where I'm strangely comfortable. When I was a teenager, this was my life every summer: go nowhere, see no one, plan my days around input (TV, music, and books) and output (writing fiction, doing small crafts, and organizing). I was surprised to learn later on that the other teens went to the beach during summer? Weird, but who's flourishing now, eh? Ol' Latchkey Fields, that's who.
- Drink less, weigh less, move more (in moderation)After a decade of consuming booze I'm starting to feel it (or I'm starting to feel my age in relation to it), and every overindulgence (a cute word for "bender") feels more damaging than it used to. I'm slowly replacing the booze rituals with tea rituals to at least keep me sober for the opening hours of each day—that's a start, and it helps fight the boredom of isolation. As far as other forms of health, I know the secret there: adjust food quality and fitness goals in tandem, but the trick is to find more small ways to notch it up without burning myself out entirely. What I gained in weight between grad school and my first stable job I have since lost, so it definitely works, it's just the tedium of it all that's the big problem.
The bigger picture:Beyond that, it's obviously hard to plan for the coming year until vaccines reach everyone who wants one, and we find out what fresh hell the re-trashed job market is. As far as I know, I've lost no one to COVID-19, I remain healthy and housed myself, and I have stayed busy in ways that fill me with a sense of accomplishment. I've been lucky so far, and I'm cautiously optimistic about 2021.
- Attend an MFA reunionThis kinda happened in the spring, for an hour or two on Zoom. A group of writers, a year inside: I better hear about everybody's pandemic project next year.
- Visit family in South KoreaLOL NOPE. Originally the plan was to go in October, but when it arrived I couldn't get there by law, by hook, or by crook because of COVID-19 restrictions.
- Health check (in Korea)NOPE AGAIN. The reason I meant to do this in Korea is because even when I do have health insurance in my own country, it's intermittent, still prohibitively expensive, and not comprehensive. Meanwhile, in Korea I could get an entire inside-and-out body evaluation (bones, blood, weight, vaccines, vitamin deficiencies, allergies, cancer screening, and other bodily curiosities) for $500. I also get dental care for $40 whenever I visit (x-rays and cleaning), so even with the flight and hotel factored in it's a great deal, comparatively, because the United States is killing us with corruption.
- Save moneySort of I did this? When I wrote it down I had a job that disappeared about a month later, but since I was able to get on unemployment quickly and have always lived below my means, while I haven't saved any extra money, I have at least maintained the savings I built up before. Turns out what I was saving for was weathering the third recession of my lifetime. That averages one per decade! Someone tell my boomer relatives these conditions aren't what they used to be.
- Become pescatarianSuccess, however, I tried to go further into mostly vegan and ultimately wiped out because of cheese. I love it too much and am weak in moral fiber (is there a supplement for that?) and so have slipped back to consuming certain low-lactose milk products. I'm sure there's a compound name for what I'm doing (no eggs, yes cheese, no land meat, yes sea flesh, no preference pro or con on honey) but I'm not fully dedicated to any of it, just trying to make better choices and not consume factory-processed livestock meat because I know how the sausage is made, and it's not okay. My cat is also no vegan, she eats poultry, so I'll never be all the way out of the game as long as I'm feeding my favorite little carnivore.
- Write 1 TV script This did not manifest in 2020, but it's scheduled to be first up in 2021. My collaboration buddy and I find that scripts aren't that hard or time-consuming to write...if we're in the right headspace. The pandemic year was not that headspace.
- Write 2 novelsYEP. One was a solo project, a follow-up to My Dear Watson written in diary form (look forward to Mrs. Watson: Untold Stories soon!). The other was a collaborative novel that I did the lion's share of writing on (because I'm the unemployed one), based on one of our shared script projects. If anyone picks up any part of it, we've got the full show and novel tie-ins ready to go, a nice package deal.
Other highlights of the year include:- I increased my fitness efforts from two days a week to three and lost another 5-10 pounds because of it (neat!).- I can now comprehend TV/movies/podcasts at 3x-4x playback speed. I'm very proud of this, I tell everyone about it, I feel like I'm reaching higher heights and am approaching the galaxy brain stage, etc.- Due to these speed records, I now find reading via my slow human eyes to be pretty basic, and so at long last I've embraced audiobooks. Difficult books are easier to take in if someone else reads them to you, dull books are easier to tolerate if sped through, and if you can digitize a book at all you can make the computer machine read it for you (it's not perfect, but it is preferable to me now).
My plans for 2021 are:
- Write 1 TV script (at least) and 2 more novels (also at least)One promised script, maybe scriptifying an old project, then one or two collaborative novels (we have two outlines that are ready to go and these years are LONG), plus one solo project if I can find some new inspiration. Also, I have a short story commission for January, going to start small and grow as time and stress permit.
- Find a job (???)This isn't something I can really control, but I check for jobs regularly and apply when it's at all appropriate before sinking back into isolation...where I'm strangely comfortable. When I was a teenager, this was my life every summer: go nowhere, see no one, plan my days around input (TV, music, and books) and output (writing fiction, doing small crafts, and organizing). I was surprised to learn later on that the other teens went to the beach during summer? Weird, but who's flourishing now, eh? Ol' Latchkey Fields, that's who.
- Drink less, weigh less, move more (in moderation)After a decade of consuming booze I'm starting to feel it (or I'm starting to feel my age in relation to it), and every overindulgence (a cute word for "bender") feels more damaging than it used to. I'm slowly replacing the booze rituals with tea rituals to at least keep me sober for the opening hours of each day—that's a start, and it helps fight the boredom of isolation. As far as other forms of health, I know the secret there: adjust food quality and fitness goals in tandem, but the trick is to find more small ways to notch it up without burning myself out entirely. What I gained in weight between grad school and my first stable job I have since lost, so it definitely works, it's just the tedium of it all that's the big problem.
The bigger picture:Beyond that, it's obviously hard to plan for the coming year until vaccines reach everyone who wants one, and we find out what fresh hell the re-trashed job market is. As far as I know, I've lost no one to COVID-19, I remain healthy and housed myself, and I have stayed busy in ways that fill me with a sense of accomplishment. I've been lucky so far, and I'm cautiously optimistic about 2021.
August 10, 2020
Sherlockiana, She Wrote / Pandemic Daze
Sherlockiana, She Wrote
Live today: an interview between myself, L.A. Fields (My Dear Watson, 2013), and author Michelle Birkby (The House at Baker Street, 2016, and The Women of Baker Street, 2017), courtesy of The Studious Scarlets Society! Find out what inspired us to write historical/period fiction, our favorite pastiche interpretations of Sherlock Holmes, and whether or not we'd actually want to meet the man himself.
Read all about it here: Studying Scarlets - Interviews with The Studious Scarlets Society, L.A. Fields & Michelle Birkby.
I wanted to be part of a Sherlock Holmes Society ever since I read about them as a teenager, and that desire has manifested beautifully.
Pandemic Daze
As far as how I'm doing during these pandemic days, the short answer is: pretty okay, all things considered.
I've been unemployed since February, but I've been receiving regular and boosted unemployment benefits and have some savings I can rely on. I'm isolated with my cat, but outside of a couple of trips I hoped to take in 2020, that was the plan anyway—my previous job was work-from-home, and the only time I went farther than my mailbox since last November was to vote on Super Tuesday in early March. Shelter in place orders and social isolation are right up my alley.
I stay inside. I binge a lot of TV, news, and podcasts at 3x the speed (I'm either evolving or building an addict's tolerance to the entertainment drug). I appreciate the hell out of my cat and how healthy we both fortunately remain. I keep to a basic fitness routine so I don't start to atrophy, and I try not to drink too much (that one's touch-and-go). I call and message with friends and family every day. I read a little, and I write a little more than that.
If it weren't for the worry over how many have died due to COVID-19, how many will live with permanent health/financial/emotional damage from all this, how long it will last, and how weak the United States democracy is regarding public health response and racial inequality...I would almost be a having a pleasant time? This damn empathy is ruining what could have been a super-fun sociopathic summer, boo.
Live today: an interview between myself, L.A. Fields (My Dear Watson, 2013), and author Michelle Birkby (The House at Baker Street, 2016, and The Women of Baker Street, 2017), courtesy of The Studious Scarlets Society! Find out what inspired us to write historical/period fiction, our favorite pastiche interpretations of Sherlock Holmes, and whether or not we'd actually want to meet the man himself.
Read all about it here: Studying Scarlets - Interviews with The Studious Scarlets Society, L.A. Fields & Michelle Birkby.
I wanted to be part of a Sherlock Holmes Society ever since I read about them as a teenager, and that desire has manifested beautifully.
Pandemic Daze
As far as how I'm doing during these pandemic days, the short answer is: pretty okay, all things considered.
I've been unemployed since February, but I've been receiving regular and boosted unemployment benefits and have some savings I can rely on. I'm isolated with my cat, but outside of a couple of trips I hoped to take in 2020, that was the plan anyway—my previous job was work-from-home, and the only time I went farther than my mailbox since last November was to vote on Super Tuesday in early March. Shelter in place orders and social isolation are right up my alley.
I stay inside. I binge a lot of TV, news, and podcasts at 3x the speed (I'm either evolving or building an addict's tolerance to the entertainment drug). I appreciate the hell out of my cat and how healthy we both fortunately remain. I keep to a basic fitness routine so I don't start to atrophy, and I try not to drink too much (that one's touch-and-go). I call and message with friends and family every day. I read a little, and I write a little more than that.
If it weren't for the worry over how many have died due to COVID-19, how many will live with permanent health/financial/emotional damage from all this, how long it will last, and how weak the United States democracy is regarding public health response and racial inequality...I would almost be a having a pleasant time? This damn empathy is ruining what could have been a super-fun sociopathic summer, boo.
