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  • Aditus

    Talk Talk

    By Aditus

    Conversations. Sometimes it’s too much, sometimes too little, formal, informal, clumsy, artificial, with another word: difficult. Let’s practice, Shall we? #253 Someone is on the bus. The guy beside them fidgets the whole time with an irritating tinkling bangle while telling them, it seems, their entire life story, including very personal things. It’s time to pop in the earbuds. When it’s time to get off the bus, the talker has disappeared and the strange bangle is now on th
    • 1 comment
    • 38 views

Busted, chapter 10

[Hey, Joe's good with kids. Go figure. Can't tell if this is the start or the end of a sub-plot...]   Joe put his best comforting face on, and tried to project as much reassurance as he could. He didn't have much experience with kids, but in his years in HR he'd had to deal with hysterical employees, psychotic episodes, stalking ex-husbands, and once helped deliver a baby. He hoped he could handle this.   "Hey there," he said quietly. The girl shrank back as far as she could, trapped between
TheZot

TheZot

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Busted, chapter 9

[And the plot thickens. Or at least congeals, but good enough]   Inside the apartment building things were busy. Detective Russell didn't need anyone to tell him where things had happened. The blood smears on the open door of unit 1-B and the forensic team inside it were more than enough.   There was a uniformed officer just inside the door to the apartment. Jensen. Rookie. He was looking green, but doing his best to hold it together.   "What happened?" Russell asked.   "Three fatalities
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Busted, chapter 8

[Y'know, this wasn't here when I started the story. And Joe's probably going to get in so much trouble. Oh, yeah, I'm practicing cliff-hangers. They seem useful things.]   Detective Russell pulled up into the apartment complex driveway. Like a lot of complexes in town, it was a collection of small buildings. These were brick, six apartments per three story building. There were twenty of the things lined up ten on a side. The complex itself was relatively new, maybe thirty years old at most, bu
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Advice, please!

I haven't blogged in an age and a half - at least here. That's one of the problems with blogs. They're almost too easy to set up.   I'm trying to decide quite how 'out' I want to be. What I mean is that 'Camy' is obviously a pen name/pseudonym - and one I'm very happy with, and proud of.   I picked it on the spur of the moment when I signed up at GA, just over a year ago. I'm known as Camy everywhere I go within the confines of 'gay writing'. However Camy is not me. Camy is the me that came
Camy

Camy

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Busted, chapter 7

[And at the end... plot sign! Yay, something besides romance, sexual tension, and hints of madcap farce. 'Cause, let's be honest, who wants to read about sex anyway? I know it bores you guys to tears...]   They drove in silence for a few minutes, into one of the dingier sections of town. Detective Russell parallel parked in front of a ratty pizza restaurant and got out. Joe followed, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. He was very over-dressed for the neighborhood.   There was no way Joe was
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Busted, chapter 6

[Look, forward motion of what I think may possibly be a plot. Or a sub-plot. Something like that. And a title!]   Detective Russell parked his car in one of the empty handicapped spots in front of the Maple Building. He wasn't sure what, past the sign labeling it, distinguished it from the Oak, Spruce, Chestnut, or Birch Buildings he'd passed, but he supposed the cookie-cutter office buildings required cookie cutter names.   And they were all cookie-cutter, a half dozen buildings, three stor
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Busted, chapter 5

[Another chunk 'o story, quite by surprise. I hadn't expected to get here quite this fast]   Thursdays Joe went clubbing for fun. Not anything serious, and since he'd started dating Alex certainly not to get laid, but just fun. Drink some, dance some, be around people and have a good time. He enjoyed it, and what was wrong with that? He could lose himself in the music, let the last bits of the workday drain away, and just relax.   It had been a kind of shitty day at work, but then last night
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Busted, chapter 4

[Yeah, yeah, short. I'm trying to write every day, shooting for ~1k words. Haven't quite managed, but at least the story's moving forward. A new chunk every day I write one, keeping a few in the can as a buffer, in case I finally figure out what's going on and need to throw out stuff]   Thursday morning Steve caught Chris at the coffee machine. True to stereotype there was a box of donuts, but since they were plastic, decorative, and someone's idea of a joke that was probably OK. The muffins,
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Busted, chapter 3

[Yeah, I've got through chapter 5 done, if you can call these mini-things 'chapters'. This is me working through writer's block, so I make no promises as to anything ]   "What am I here for?" Joe demanded as Gagnon dragged him into an interrogation room. "Am I under arrest? Do I get a lawyer? This your idea of a joke?"   "Sit," thundered the detective.   "Great," grumbled Joe. "I'm getting locked up for giving bad head."   He got a glare for that. "Everything said in here is recorded, s
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Busted, chapter 2

[More brain dump. Again, still rough, and while I'm looking for a title I figure I ought to know what's going on first. I'm only to part five and I'm not entirely sure yet]   The cruiser was quiet for the ride to the police station. Detective Gagnon drove in silence after briefly radioing in, while Joe sat in the back of the car and fumed. He was pissed, and rightly so. His boyfriend had pulled him over and roughed him up. On top of that he'd not even acknowledged his existence.   What annoy
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Busted, chapter 1

[This thing is dribbling out of my brain so, lucky everyone, you get to see it raw and unedited and un-rewritten, and barely written in the first place. But at least it's out!]   Joe knew it was going to be a bad night when he saw the flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. Besides going way too fast, it was raining and he was driving a sporty little silver coupe, either of which was guaranteed to piss off any cop that pulled him over. The big rainbow squiggle decal on the bumper probably was
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Maybe it's a matter of perspective

Sometimes you realize that the world is just sort of bizarre if you look at it right. For example:   The train I take into work in the morning carries more people on it in one go than the entire population of a town I lived next to.   It's the 7th of January, and my son and I went into New York City today to see the cherry trees, which were in full bloom in the Brooklyn Botannical Gardens. We were both wearing t-shirts, and it was really too damn hot.   Somewhere in Wales there's a guy who
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9-11 commision documents STOLEN!

CONFIRMED: The President's National Security Advisor stole, and then destroyed, an unknown number of classified documents destined for the 9/11 commission BEFORE the commission had a chance to examine them in it's 9/11 investigation.   Shocked? You should be. But, hold off on the Bush Bashing for a minute, becuase the aforementioned President is Former President Clinton. The National Security Advisor is Sandy Berger.   Berger was given sole access for "vetting" top secret Clinton-era docu
C James

C James

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Bah Humbug

This Christmas malarkey is getting on my tits.   Perpetual adverts cozening us to buy 'must have' crap we can't really afford, offset by the occasional program telling us that personal debt in the UK is out of control, and that 'The Samaritans' are overwhelmed.   Now don't get me wrong, I like having a good time with the best of them. I'm all up for going wild and crazy, and apart from being possibly (but not probably) wiser, 'cause I'm longer in the teeth than some, I'm still a big kid. But
Camy

Camy

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It's the little things that get you

Y'know, there's something about kids that mean you get introduced to all sorts of things that you never would've been introduced to before.   Like, for example, Rainbow Hello Kitty thong underwear. No, I don't joke. I don't think I could make that up if I tried.   I'm thankful it was just in adult sizes, for women.   I think.
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I think this is the post-story snooze time

And I don't really like it. Soulmate's done and out, and the first draft of Dirty Basement's off for reading, and now, two stories down in a couple of weeks and... I find I can't write. Not that I don't have things to write (yeah, yeah, I know, poor Rob's been stuck in an airport lounge for months, I have a new novel that's been brewing for a while, Ben and Wiliam would really like their origin story told, and they're also facing zombies. And caught in the middle of a murder mystery) but it's ju
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So, what the hell is wrong with you?

Okay, not you personally (not that there isn't something horribly wrong with you or anything) but your characters.   I've been thinking about that lately, as I've been doodling out the outlines for a new novel with new characters, and poking at existing characters in new stories. What's wrong with them?   It may seem like a strange thing to wonder about, but I was reminded by ABG (Author of the most excellent, though not done, Torch Song) that a character's flaws are at least as interesting
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Leviticus, you say?

I've often been told that "homosexuality is an abomination, because the Bible says so."   My first response to that is that no one has any business forcing their religion on anyone else A man by the name of Bin Laden is a prime example of those who think otherwise, as he, like some extremist Christians, want the USA to follow his version of religion.   Furthermore, I usually remind the person citing the "biblical homosexuality" issue that the word "homosexuality" cannot be in the bible, f
C James

C James

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NaNoWriMo 'n' things.

I haven't blogged in ages, which is probably just as well. Much too much I don't want to talk about. However the update to the GA software deserves a mention, even if it's only to thank all those who work behind the scenes.   I'm taking part in this years NaNoWriMo, which for those of you who don't know, is writing a 50,000 word 'novel' in a month. I was going to do it in secret, but if I do that I'll probably never finish it. So I'm 'outing' myself and thus have to finish it... see the logic?
Camy

Camy

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Uhoh, a Blog! And some ramblings about DST.

Yep, I've decided to take the plunge and start blogging. My plan is to post on a variety of things, prety much anything. For example, my first real blog post will be sort of political as it will be about Daylight Savings time.   So, welcome everyone (assuming that anyone but me ever comes here! ).   Now, on to my Rant of the Day: Daylight Savings Time!   I live in Arizona, and one of the things I love about Arizona is that we are not burdened by Daylight Savings Time. We don't have to ch
C James

C James

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The gnomes have come and gone

I have got to learn to not leave cookies and saucers of milk out; whenever I do that I always wake up with a head full of ideas and not nearly enough time to do anything with them. It's even a werewolf story this time, which is really out of character for me, as I loathe most werewolf stories. (Night Howls excepted, which you should go out and read. Right now. It's OK, I'll wait) And most vampire stories. I'm not sure whether I'm going to hate this one, but I am going to write it. Should be inte
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I'm back!

Yep, after altogether too long, I'm back. Woohoo! Or, y'know, something like that.   Anyway, time now presents itself, at least a little, which is cool. And in bits and pieces on the train, but still... one takes what one can get.   And yes, this does mean I've finished a first draft. Just need to get it properly savaged edited and it may well be good to go. It's kind of weird, but just having something done, even in draft, is kind of nice.
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Life

Real life is being a miserable bitch at the moment. Details are somewhat unimportant, and I'm thinking that's just the way the universe works: but hey, give me a break already.   There are two places I get respite. One is here, and the other is when I'm with Mick. When I'm with him the world can happily go to hell - the power of love is amazing!   I'm good at compartmentalising (that's a word and a half) and GA is one place I can escape to ... lucky I can't 'jack in' a la Matrix. I'd be qu
Camy

Camy

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