Eric Alan Westfall's Blog, page 2
September 19, 2013
Get Outa My Head
I hope someone will be kind enough to win a really, really big lottery and share so I can stop worrying about earning a living and just spend time writing.
Yesterday morning, 5 a.m.ish the first two lines of the story appeared in my mind as I was ignoring the large dog who wanted to go out: "I want him out of my head" and "I want him outa my head." Set in a future America, 25-30-35 years from now, the narrator is a wealthy, gay doctor who is an expert in NIPS (non-integrated personalities syndrome), and the founder of GRIPS (Global Re-Integrated Personalities Society).
His really, really hot new patient has such an unusual type of NIPS that doc is confident he's going to win the GRIPS Physician of the Year award once he re-integrates the guy's two personalities. One is just an ordinary guy named Richard. The other insists his name is Rikar, and that he's some sort of nobility (prince, maybe?) in a world where magic exists. And of course he's wondering WTF is going on with his new body and weird surroundings.
Things get really, really, REALLY weird when Rikar starts showing up in his own body, and Dick and Rik just alternate.
Then there's the gypsy curse.
And a perhaps interesting way of having a menage a trois when you only have two bodies.
And the ending is sort of written, but definitely outlined.
"Get Outa My Head" is just a working title, but it's also a plea to Whoever there be to hold off, just a little while, with the new ideas, at least until I get some of the current stuff done.
Yesterday morning, 5 a.m.ish the first two lines of the story appeared in my mind as I was ignoring the large dog who wanted to go out: "I want him out of my head" and "I want him outa my head." Set in a future America, 25-30-35 years from now, the narrator is a wealthy, gay doctor who is an expert in NIPS (non-integrated personalities syndrome), and the founder of GRIPS (Global Re-Integrated Personalities Society).
His really, really hot new patient has such an unusual type of NIPS that doc is confident he's going to win the GRIPS Physician of the Year award once he re-integrates the guy's two personalities. One is just an ordinary guy named Richard. The other insists his name is Rikar, and that he's some sort of nobility (prince, maybe?) in a world where magic exists. And of course he's wondering WTF is going on with his new body and weird surroundings.
Things get really, really, REALLY weird when Rikar starts showing up in his own body, and Dick and Rik just alternate.
Then there's the gypsy curse.
And a perhaps interesting way of having a menage a trois when you only have two bodies.
And the ending is sort of written, but definitely outlined.
"Get Outa My Head" is just a working title, but it's also a plea to Whoever there be to hold off, just a little while, with the new ideas, at least until I get some of the current stuff done.
September 10, 2013
Down the block follow-up
In a comment on the immediately preceding post, a reader said something nice and then said "though if you twist me up too much in the story, it might take me a while to get my head around it."
I hadn't really thought about it as the stories were being written, or indeed afterwards (in spite of the "not for me"/"I didn't understand" reviews or comments), but her perception of The Song and Surrender is, I think, accurate.
Both of them are kind of "brain-twister" stories, because, frankly, that's the only way those tales could be told. And they do require some special concentration that you don't always have to have with more traditional M/M romances, whether scifi, or paranormal, or just-hot-guys stories. (Well, I guess you can tell where my story reading preferences are. >g<)
NOTE: The above is not a "put-down" of more traditional stories, nor is it me trying to imply my two stories are somehow better because they aren't written in a more traditional story-telling vein. I apparently just have an inherently twisty kind of mind.
That said, I don't think The Meeting is at all twisty, although it is, like The Song, told from the alternating POVs of DarkFire (that warlord/crown prince/heir/magic sword kind of guy) and Jerril (the bard with the divine voice). Oh...and please "un-swish" that last phrase inside your head, and stop leering about DarkFire's sword...I heard you doing it, you know! >s<
Unbirthday Present? Yeah, kinda twisty, though the changes wrought from the beta reader's comments will hopefully make it, hmmm, more understandably twisty?
"no way out" (lowercase intentional) is a pretty straight (so to speak) forward love story set in Regency England. But I have no idea how soon it will be done. I have the opening chapter almost done, and the final chapter, which I really, really, really like. I know how to get from A to Z, but I haven't quite figured out all of the way(s) in which the obstacles to true love are going to work.
Guy-whose-name-I-haven't-finalized, is not a "type" of man I've seen in M/M romances before. On the other hand, Royce Alexander David Jonathan Henley, Marquess of Ireton, heir of the Duke of Stoneleigh, a/k/a, the “Iron Marquess” is more closely a traditional Regency romance aristocrat/hero. And I figure he's pretty heroic here, even if the readers don't find out about it for a while. Bottom line is, it will, I hope, ultimately be a kind of gay/erotic "homage" to Georgette Heyer and the other contemporary writers of really great M/F Regencies. With enough plot twists/turns to hold your interest.
NOTE 2: Nope, no way am I comparing myself to Heyer, or Quinn or Laurens or London, etc.
So hopefully you won't have too much Eric Alan "head-wrapping" to do between now and the end of the year...just (I can but hope) reading enjoyment.
Eric
I hadn't really thought about it as the stories were being written, or indeed afterwards (in spite of the "not for me"/"I didn't understand" reviews or comments), but her perception of The Song and Surrender is, I think, accurate.
Both of them are kind of "brain-twister" stories, because, frankly, that's the only way those tales could be told. And they do require some special concentration that you don't always have to have with more traditional M/M romances, whether scifi, or paranormal, or just-hot-guys stories. (Well, I guess you can tell where my story reading preferences are. >g<)
NOTE: The above is not a "put-down" of more traditional stories, nor is it me trying to imply my two stories are somehow better because they aren't written in a more traditional story-telling vein. I apparently just have an inherently twisty kind of mind.
That said, I don't think The Meeting is at all twisty, although it is, like The Song, told from the alternating POVs of DarkFire (that warlord/crown prince/heir/magic sword kind of guy) and Jerril (the bard with the divine voice). Oh...and please "un-swish" that last phrase inside your head, and stop leering about DarkFire's sword...I heard you doing it, you know! >s<
Unbirthday Present? Yeah, kinda twisty, though the changes wrought from the beta reader's comments will hopefully make it, hmmm, more understandably twisty?
"no way out" (lowercase intentional) is a pretty straight (so to speak) forward love story set in Regency England. But I have no idea how soon it will be done. I have the opening chapter almost done, and the final chapter, which I really, really, really like. I know how to get from A to Z, but I haven't quite figured out all of the way(s) in which the obstacles to true love are going to work.
Guy-whose-name-I-haven't-finalized, is not a "type" of man I've seen in M/M romances before. On the other hand, Royce Alexander David Jonathan Henley, Marquess of Ireton, heir of the Duke of Stoneleigh, a/k/a, the “Iron Marquess” is more closely a traditional Regency romance aristocrat/hero. And I figure he's pretty heroic here, even if the readers don't find out about it for a while. Bottom line is, it will, I hope, ultimately be a kind of gay/erotic "homage" to Georgette Heyer and the other contemporary writers of really great M/F Regencies. With enough plot twists/turns to hold your interest.
NOTE 2: Nope, no way am I comparing myself to Heyer, or Quinn or Laurens or London, etc.
So hopefully you won't have too much Eric Alan "head-wrapping" to do between now and the end of the year...just (I can but hope) reading enjoyment.
Eric
Down the block, on the beach
With luck, by year's end, this new kid on the block will have several stories up and available at Amazon and elsewhere:
The Song (a revised and expanded version from LHNB)
Surrender (unlikely to be changed unless I think it needs a bit of tweaking)
NOTE: All royalties from the above two will be donated to an LGBT organization in my community.
The Meeting: A fantasy also set in the Kingdom and Empire. Heading toward the home stretch for completion, with the cover art commission in progress.
Unbirthday Present: A shifter story (nary a beast among 'em) that I was sure was done except for polishing...and wow! a great beta reader set me right on that. So it's in revision now, and I think much improved.
I'll keep you posted on other stuff...teasers, maybe?
Eric
The Song (a revised and expanded version from LHNB)
Surrender (unlikely to be changed unless I think it needs a bit of tweaking)
NOTE: All royalties from the above two will be donated to an LGBT organization in my community.
The Meeting: A fantasy also set in the Kingdom and Empire. Heading toward the home stretch for completion, with the cover art commission in progress.
Unbirthday Present: A shifter story (nary a beast among 'em) that I was sure was done except for polishing...and wow! a great beta reader set me right on that. So it's in revision now, and I think much improved.
I'll keep you posted on other stuff...teasers, maybe?
Eric
September 5, 2013
Surrender 2?
If you're old enough, or gay enough, or enough of enough, you'll know the music. >s< Otherwise, you'll have to hunt.
You made me write this,
I never thought I'd do it, I never planned to do it
You made me want to,
And all the time you knew it, I guess you always knew it
***
There are voices in my head. Outside my head. Maybe if I keep my eyes shut they’ll go away.
That doesn’t happen.
BIG Voice: # There are two. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # There are never two. #
Softer Voice: # Never, dear? #
BIG Voice: # Well, all right, I can see there are two. But...but you never told me. #
Softer Voice: # I didn’t want to worry you, dear. # She pauses.
How do I know Softer Voice is “she?”
Softer Voice: # Besides, you were already being a pain in...just about everywhere. #
BIG Voice: # I was worried. #
Ha. She got you. This is interesting.
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # So. I have two sons. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. # Her voice is amused.
BIG Voice: # Big sons. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # Now don’t sigh at me in that tone of link. Look at them. Those are big boys, and they’re going to be just like their father. #
BIG Voice has a kind of echoing, bell sound. Like his chest is all puffed out.
Softer Voice: # Do you think you might wait until they’re at least a little older before you start...comparing sizes? #
BIG Voice, much more quiet: # There are two. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. # She sounds so very proud, so very happy.
BIG Voice: # We have to tell them their names. #
Softer Voice, joyfully: # Oh, indeed yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # Son, your True Name is.... #
He is not speaking to me, though I understand everything he says. It is not a language that fits inside a head. It requires sound, and space to fill with that sound. And there is no end to the space here to be used. His voice is rolling thunder, and starlight, and music. It is flames, and lightning, and storms at sea. It is courage and compassion, and a strong, slender blade to pierce an enemy, or protect a love. It is vast wings in the Dark Between. Her voice is a clear soprano descant, liquid gold winding and intertwining with his tones and sounds. It is my brother’s True Name.
And when they are done, BIG Voice says inside our heads: # Your Lesser Name is Ylaerin. #
“I am Ylaerin.” My brother’s voice agrees, quiet and sure beside me.
BIG Voice...father...is going to speak again. He is going to tell me my True Name. But there is something I must know first. Though I don’t know why.
“What year is this?”
Wordless shock from around me. I have interrupted something important, something sacred, something required . But still...I have to know.
“In Empire years,” I add.
BIG Voice is impatient. If my eyes were open I might see him rolling his eyes. “Which one?”
Two? There are two? But... “The...the Kingdom and Empire?”
There is a pause. He has to know. One of them has to know.
BIG Voice: “19061 After Seren. 9635 dar Andrae.”
And I know why I had to know. Thank You, Goddess. I have time. I can get there in time. I can get there before....
# No. #
I have never contradicted a deity before. Never believed in one, so how could I? But my howl of denial is loud and anguished for all that it is silent and only between the Goddess and me.
Her voice is gentle, but firm. # They cannot hear us. They will not know. I give you this, but what has happened, must still happen. Despite this gift, you cannot change what must be. Your parents will recall no question asked and answered. You will remember none of the past, none of your future past until the time is right. #
I feel Her hand caress the side of my head and my oddly-shaped ears. Ears? What is wrong... # Hush. Forget for now. But carry with you always these two certainties. #
I have the oddest feeling that something has just happened. I have no idea what, except that BIG Voice, no, my father, is about to speak.
I speak before he can. I am just born, far too young to have his power, her power, their power, but still I know my own True Name, and in the stunned silence that follows the first sound past my lips, I tell them.
I stand straight and tall, my eyes closed, my focus inward, and as I tell my True Name, my hands slowly rise to end with my arms spread up and out and wide.
My voice is blood and battle, pain and power, ending and beginning.
My voice is a Stone Beast’s roar of rage and a soft caress.
My voice is a taproot deep in the belly of the earth, which no storm can ever pull up, surviving all damage to the tree above, re-growing, renewing.
My voice is the silence of space, the quiet of the Mist Between where the Star Roads run, and golden wings soar there as well.
My voice is a mountain’s patience, a mountain’s endurance.
My voice is the certainty of granite.
And through the telling, my father’s bass, my mother’s soprano, my brother’s baritone give me a foundation on which I could stand and move the world, and a lift to heights I could never achieve alone.
And then it is done. My True Name is told.
I lower my hands to my sides.
My voice is only slightly hoarse, but it is sure. “My name is Caaroc, and I am not less than anything.”
I do not speak my other certainty. I have a love and I will know when he comes along.
I open my eyes at last. Look around. Smile with all the joy I possess.
Here there be dragons.
***
No promises, folks. But maybe....
You made me write this,
I never thought I'd do it, I never planned to do it
You made me want to,
And all the time you knew it, I guess you always knew it
***
There are voices in my head. Outside my head. Maybe if I keep my eyes shut they’ll go away.
That doesn’t happen.
BIG Voice: # There are two. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # There are never two. #
Softer Voice: # Never, dear? #
BIG Voice: # Well, all right, I can see there are two. But...but you never told me. #
Softer Voice: # I didn’t want to worry you, dear. # She pauses.
How do I know Softer Voice is “she?”
Softer Voice: # Besides, you were already being a pain in...just about everywhere. #
BIG Voice: # I was worried. #
Ha. She got you. This is interesting.
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # So. I have two sons. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. # Her voice is amused.
BIG Voice: # Big sons. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # Now don’t sigh at me in that tone of link. Look at them. Those are big boys, and they’re going to be just like their father. #
BIG Voice has a kind of echoing, bell sound. Like his chest is all puffed out.
Softer Voice: # Do you think you might wait until they’re at least a little older before you start...comparing sizes? #
BIG Voice, much more quiet: # There are two. #
Softer Voice: # Yes, dear. # She sounds so very proud, so very happy.
BIG Voice: # We have to tell them their names. #
Softer Voice, joyfully: # Oh, indeed yes, dear. #
BIG Voice: # Son, your True Name is.... #
He is not speaking to me, though I understand everything he says. It is not a language that fits inside a head. It requires sound, and space to fill with that sound. And there is no end to the space here to be used. His voice is rolling thunder, and starlight, and music. It is flames, and lightning, and storms at sea. It is courage and compassion, and a strong, slender blade to pierce an enemy, or protect a love. It is vast wings in the Dark Between. Her voice is a clear soprano descant, liquid gold winding and intertwining with his tones and sounds. It is my brother’s True Name.
And when they are done, BIG Voice says inside our heads: # Your Lesser Name is Ylaerin. #
“I am Ylaerin.” My brother’s voice agrees, quiet and sure beside me.
BIG Voice...father...is going to speak again. He is going to tell me my True Name. But there is something I must know first. Though I don’t know why.
“What year is this?”
Wordless shock from around me. I have interrupted something important, something sacred, something required . But still...I have to know.
“In Empire years,” I add.
BIG Voice is impatient. If my eyes were open I might see him rolling his eyes. “Which one?”
Two? There are two? But... “The...the Kingdom and Empire?”
There is a pause. He has to know. One of them has to know.
BIG Voice: “19061 After Seren. 9635 dar Andrae.”
And I know why I had to know. Thank You, Goddess. I have time. I can get there in time. I can get there before....
# No. #
I have never contradicted a deity before. Never believed in one, so how could I? But my howl of denial is loud and anguished for all that it is silent and only between the Goddess and me.
Her voice is gentle, but firm. # They cannot hear us. They will not know. I give you this, but what has happened, must still happen. Despite this gift, you cannot change what must be. Your parents will recall no question asked and answered. You will remember none of the past, none of your future past until the time is right. #
I feel Her hand caress the side of my head and my oddly-shaped ears. Ears? What is wrong... # Hush. Forget for now. But carry with you always these two certainties. #
I have the oddest feeling that something has just happened. I have no idea what, except that BIG Voice, no, my father, is about to speak.
I speak before he can. I am just born, far too young to have his power, her power, their power, but still I know my own True Name, and in the stunned silence that follows the first sound past my lips, I tell them.
I stand straight and tall, my eyes closed, my focus inward, and as I tell my True Name, my hands slowly rise to end with my arms spread up and out and wide.
My voice is blood and battle, pain and power, ending and beginning.
My voice is a Stone Beast’s roar of rage and a soft caress.
My voice is a taproot deep in the belly of the earth, which no storm can ever pull up, surviving all damage to the tree above, re-growing, renewing.
My voice is the silence of space, the quiet of the Mist Between where the Star Roads run, and golden wings soar there as well.
My voice is a mountain’s patience, a mountain’s endurance.
My voice is the certainty of granite.
And through the telling, my father’s bass, my mother’s soprano, my brother’s baritone give me a foundation on which I could stand and move the world, and a lift to heights I could never achieve alone.
And then it is done. My True Name is told.
I lower my hands to my sides.
My voice is only slightly hoarse, but it is sure. “My name is Caaroc, and I am not less than anything.”
I do not speak my other certainty. I have a love and I will know when he comes along.
I open my eyes at last. Look around. Smile with all the joy I possess.
Here there be dragons.
***
No promises, folks. But maybe....
