TheZot

Thanks guys. (I like the cake, too. I've got some chocolate kicking around here... I just may have to try and whip one of those up )

There's definitely all sorts of things you can do with this setup. I figured the kid got shoved aside as mom's got a new boyfriend and is angry at what he's seen as a decade of abandonment, mom's not all that nice a person, Dad's got guilt issues, and his partner's pissed at having to deal with it all. Hilarity doesn't ensue, as such, but there's an awful lot of conflict, and it a way it'd resonate in a different way than an all-gay cast would -- unfortunately shit-headed behaviour towards one's kids is depressingly universal, or at least cuts across all the boundaries I've ever seen. It definitely has the potential to be a powerful book. Just wish I had the time to do it. Maybe next year...

or semi-old standard, at least. Cliches always bother me, and I've been pestered the past week or so by some characters and a bit of plot. I'm not going to work on it now -- writing time's dedicated either to the rewrite of Busted (which is crawling along, dammit) or working on Wild Life, which I've put off for way too long -- but still, they interest me. Maybe they'll interest someone else, enough to do something with them. In this case it's the "kid shows up on the doorstep a decade or more later" one. It's not all that common in absolute terms, since there's not all that much 'adult' gay fiction out there in general (that is fiction with a real plot rather than an excuse for sex scenes with people well past college age doing, well... stuff. The stuff that you find in good mainstream fiction, only one or more of the characters is gay, and it in some reasonable way is actually meaningful, rather than stereotypical or just egregious) but this one pops up all the time. The kid, inevitably, is gay. Of course. Why else would he/she/it/they go tromping who knows how many miles to show up at a stranger's house? Angst and reconciliation happen and everyone lives happily ever after. Of course. It's a happy fantasy, and not a bad one as these things go, but it's kinda trite, and in some ways it's really cheap. Hence the thought... what if the kid isn't gay? Yeah, I know -- why else would someone be willing to almost toss their kid away? How could you possibly justify that? (And I'll stop for a moment and let everyone finish snickering, y'bunch of cynics) For reasons I don't understand, Dad's a 35 year old dentist, his partner's 27, swish, and does drag (yeah, I know, that leads into a whole annoying set of stereotypes -- sorry), and the kid's 14, hasn't seen dad in more than a decade, and is generally pissed off at the world. These guys just... interest me. Moving past at least some of the cliches, what sort of situation leads to a parent being willing to toss their kid away, or let him run without stopping him? How did things end up where there's that long separation, and how bad were things that the kid was willing to jump ship to someone who's essentially a total stranger? Then there's the culture shock issues. Dad's partner's a lot younger, so there's a bit of the trophy wife thing there. Dad and parter have been childless for years, suddenly they've got a surly teen in their midst, one who resents dad and really doesn't like his partner. Plus the kid dealing with having a gay parent, something that's presumably been a big negative for the kid up until then. If Dad knew about the kid, why has he kept his distance all these years? So the kid shows up, makes a splash, and the rest of the story is them ultimately working it out. I think they do, more or less. The characters are all flawed. Nobody irredeemably, but still... people, and messed up ones, in a situation that guarantees all sorts of conflict. I don't know that the story'd end up with a HEA, but I'm not sure it's the kind that should. Ah, well. Maybe some day, just not today.

Yeah, the second book (Or, since it's the one I'm actually writing, the first, I guess) takes place a few years later. The first is one of those traditional heroic tragedies -- in resolving the plot, of which there was no sign in the bit I posted, the protagonists ultimately lose in winning. Dev loses Michael, and Michael loses his life, such as it was, the result of a relationship with a significant power imbalance. (The stories are dark modern fantasies, and Dev does pretty much live up to his name) The second book takes place a few years later, and things have changed. Dev's lost some of his power, at least in the relationship with Michael (or he would if there was one, which there isn't at the start), and Michael's in a much better position than he was. Still a fair amount of tragedy and betrayal going around, but that's OK, it adds spice.

Yeah, I went and changed the default blog theme. Hey, I'm a geek -- I like the shiny, but I never claimed to have, y'know, taste. (There's a reason my closet only has jeans in it, 'cause everything goes with denim ) I kinda like it, but I guess I'll change it back, since I'm not the one who has to read the thing. (And when I do I usually tell Camino to up the font size a notch or two anyway)

As part of the forum revamp, it looks like the blog module now properly supports XML-RPC access. (It used to claim to, but I never had any luck getting it to work) That means client blog editors (like, say, ecto, the one I rather like. It's well worth the cost) work. Which means I can blog from the train, with a text editor that doesn't suck, and that has built-in spelling checking. (Though I do see the latest version of Camino enables that in text widgets, which is kinda nice) Being able to do up entries while offline is a very nice thing indeed. I shall have to do that more often, I think, 'specially since Michael and Devon have officially caught my attention. (Sorry Lucy) Pardon me while I do the happy geek dance. Avert your eyes!

It's not necessary, I suppose, I'm just not sure I'm good enough to pull off if the readers don't have the backing of the first book. I may give it a shot and see what it looks like, though -- the characters are more compelling to write after they're broken than before, that's for sure.

Ah, I knew I should've filled in the back story. It is the end of the book, and Michael does let things go at that point. Dev had been trying for the whole thing to get into Michael's pants. He succeeded over Michael's protests, and in doing so lost what he was going for. Michael was mostly a willing participant, so it wasn't necessarily as bad as it might seem -- he's mostly furious that Dev didn't respect him saying stop. I've got most of the first chapter written as well, it's just the intermediate bits that need filling in. (And did I mention that Devon was inspired by the song "I can't decide" by the Scissor Sisters? I think I forgot, though the way his character developed it isn't obvious. Personally I blame Russel Davies, but that's just me) It's not helping that the second book is a lot more solid for me -- after writing the end, most of the second book is pretty clear. I just need to work out the non-character-driven part of the plot, but that, I think, can be fairly thin. Ah, well, maybe I'll work on the werewolf book instead, even if the bit I posted didn't actually come from its sequel. Or second half. Not sure, I suppose it depends on how long the first bits are. Dammit, I need more time! Being independently wealthy would make things ever so much easier...

It's always so much easier to write things in the first place. Not easy, exactly, but easier. Of course, the problem is that the ideas for the new stuff don't stop when I'm struggling to fix the old stuff. (I've only managed to get to the point where Joe's found Stephanie, dammit) So, while I struggle, have the last few pages of the thing that likely comes next. And all I need now is everything that comes before it. It's going to have to be pretty good, since there's definitely no happily ever after in this one. (And is naming the protagonist's main foil "Devon Xavier Machina" too un-subtle? I'm not sure) Michael sat, wincing with the discomfort and the reminder of the night before. He just stared, looking at his desk. Nice enough wood, though not impressive like the partners had, it had three piles of manila folders on one side, a nicely functional computer with a sleek black LCD screen on the other. A half-used yellow legal pad sat dead center, a Cross pen laying on top of it. He'd been at the firm for over six months, and the only trace of him he could see was the framed picture of Anne. He snorted, and pitched it in the trash, taking a small pleasure in the sounds of the glass shattering. They were through. She'd sold him out to Devon, without even thinking about it. The sell-out hadn't surprised him that much. The man was preternaturally charming. She hadn't even tried to resist. That was the kicker. Not even a little. He could forgive the betrayal. But not the eagerness. He was supposed to do whatever Devon asked. Richard had made it clear at the beginning, no doubt at Dev's prodding. The alternative was that he was fired, fired so hard that any law firm worth a damn wouldn't even take him on as a client, let alone hire him. Richard assumed that left him with no choice. Richard was wrong. The pen wasn't his, but he took it anyway. Spoils of war, or payment for services rendered, it didn't really matter. He stood, squared his shoulders and tugged his jacket. It was the end. Decorum seemed in order. The decision gave him more strength than he thought. The other junior lawyers had always given him a hard time about his reserve, but now he was anything but. Standing tall, he radiated purpose and confidence as he strode down the wood-paneled corridors and up the stairs that took him to the top floor of the suite. Up and into the realm of the partners. "Nora," he said with a nod. She was Richard's gatekeeper. He knew that now, recognized it on a level he'd never known existed. If she didn't want him to pass he wouldn't. He didn't have that much power. "Mister Wetherbie was asking after you, Mister Lexington," she said. There was acknowledgement in her voice. Just barely, but it was there. That surprised him. It was more than some of the other partners got from her. "Is he in? I only need a moment," Michael said. "He's in with Mister Machina." It was sheer force of will that kept Michael from reacting. "Good," he said. She didn't challenge him as he walked past, into Richard's office. He'd only been in there once, the day he was hired. The office was as richly appointed as he remembered. Bookshelves made of mahogany, stained a rich brown and polished to gleaming lined the walls. The carpeting was hunter green with a subtle pattern picked out in gold. A few overstuffed leather chairs were scattered around. At the far end of the room was Richard's desk, a huge antique thing that dominated the room. Behind it were plate glass windows facing uptown, the Empire State and Chrysler buildings clearly visible. The point of the room was to impress. He was that first time. He wasn't now. Richard and Dev were off to the left, Devon slouching against the bookshelves looking artlessly beautiful. Richard was beaming, and gave Michael the impression of a well-dressed pig. "Michael!" Richard said, as he entered. "We were just talking about you." "Sir," Michael said, nodding at Richard. "Mister Machina." "So formal," Devon said. A secret smile briefly flashed across his face. Richard missed it. Michael didn't. "The firm is quite happy with the service that you've rendered, and so are some of our

Nah, I meant I've written 83K words and realized I'm about a third of the way through the actual "being done" thing. I figured I'd be at least two thirds of the way done, maybe three-quarters. Y'know, file off the rough edges, spackle over the holes, patch things up -- finish work, more or less. (I think I'm going to have to lay off the carpentry metaphors, though) Hadn't planned on having to redo half the thing. Dunno how long it'll ultimately be -- I figure I'll get to the end, stop, and see where things stand. The word count's less important than the pacing, so as long as the story moves I'm good. I hope...

I bet. So far I've only done this with stories that haven't really gone anywhere. I've got a folder full of folders with a scene or three in them waiting for me to get back to them. Probably never will, but y'never know, and it does give an interesting set of recurring themes. (Though I tend to think I'm repeating myself even when I'm not, since nobody else has seen the things) An outtakes collection is in order, though. 'Specially as it turns out that I'm redoing the whole second half of the darn novel. 83K words and I'm at best a third of the way done. Bleah.

I'm hoping not. Certainly not planning on ripping it out, since it's what keeps Joe and Chris together long enough to work things out, which is kinda important for the A story. (Though I'll grant an awful lot of these things have precious little plot, so it's not strictly necessary. I just don't want to write one of those stories)

I've been re-plotting Busted (yeah, I'm keeping that title for now, as it's better than the replacements I've managed) and I've come to the part of the process I really hate -- chopping out the good bits because they just don't work. Chopping the crap out's relatively easy. Embarrassing, yeah (I mean, I wrote it in the first place, and what was I thinking?), but easy. So that flashback scene to when Chris was a kid? Gone. Poof, and no worries. Unfortunately it also means that Steve's rant at the end of the interview with Stephanie's gone, the scene with Alex in the bar (where Alex's real nature comes out) and the scene in Chris' living room where Joe moves in is gone too. Dammit. Ah well, they're only words. There are plenty more where they came from, and better to cut something out and have to put it back later than not cut it out and have it get in the way. (Not that it makes it easier, but it's gotta be done)

Those are very good points, and things that had been vaguely nagging at me. (I was doing the readthrough a few days ago and realized that the Alex mystery was resolved far, far too early -- it's clearly the driving force of the story at the start so it shouldn't end where it does) From a strictly practical standpoint that's because there was no B story when I started -- it was strictly a romance with some odd twists between Joe and Chris. The B story didn't spring into existence until I wrote the part where Joe found Stephanie in the bushes. The scene in the hospital where Joe and Chris have their split is in there because I didn't want to resolve their romance halfway through the book. Having said that, it's no excuse for leaving things that way. At the end, the two major storylines are Joe and Chris' romance, and the murder mystery. Moreover we know that: 1) Alex is a projection of sorts of Chris' 2) The muderer is killing people at the new moon 3) The targets are all psychic 4) The muderer is the spirit of Chris' grandfather I'm still thinking having the two stories together is necessary -- the murder mystery is what's keeping Chris and Joe together enough to resolve their issues. What I need to do (I think) is: 1) Get the murder mystery storyline started a lot sooner. 2) The feelings between Chris and Joe needs to be emphasized earlier 3) The thinness of Alex needs to be clear much sooner for Joe to do a compare'n'contrast. 4) The connection between the murders needs to be made clear to the characters earlier, and Joe needs to be seen to be a target sooner 5) The murderer's connection to Chris needs to be made clearer 6) The reason the murderer's so hot to get Joe needs to show up a lot sooner (Chris's family gets the phantasms, Joe's family makes 'em real, basically) I'm thinking this thing's going to end up rather long, and I'm going to end up going back and ripping one whole plot out to make it salable. Which is kind of a shame, since I like long books. But I'll leave that until it becomes necessary.

I have read some of Jules stuff -- I rather liked her novella in A Kiss At Midnight. I don't think I ever said. Probably ought to dust off her e-mail address and go all fanboy at her at some point. Loose-Id's on my list 'o places to submit the cop book to (now tentatively titled "Revenants and Shadows", which works better than Busted) once it's done. Rewrites are a pain, but unfortunately necessary. The thing reads much differently in one go-through than it does in bits and pieces. Better in some ways, not so good in others, but that's fine. I will polish the damn thing up to publication quality, and we'll see where it goes from there. Though as I'm only on the second chapter, I have no idea how long that's gonna take...

So much macho posturing nonsense. Bleah. I hate it when they start off all promising and go downhill too. (They're much like vampire stories that way. At least with vampire stories you know that they're going to suck...) I made the mistake of reading one the other day. I swear, at some point I'm going to sit down and write one myself, but until then I'll make do with this scene. (I'm not sure if it works without context, but it's funny in my head) Clay looked down at Max, lying in the hospital bed. He was haggard, almost emaciated, a far cry from the man Clay remembered. His anger drained away at the sight. No matter how hurt he was, he couldn't stay mad at Max, not when he looked like that. "God, you look like crap," Clay said. He just blurted it out, before he could think. In the bed Max gave him a weak smile. He put down the crossword puzzle he'd been doing. "Hello to you, too," he said. "So, um

Points noted -- I agree with 'em all. (And I'd missed Chris' initial reaction. You're definitely right, it needs noting) I'm digging into the second draft now, so your timing's excellent.

Well, I'm working on Toymaker now (it's going up in bits and pieces onto the blog, in first draft form), but I may well start poking at Wild Life while I'm at it. Been feeling the urge to get the guys initial meeting story done, and I think I can do it proper justice now.

[Hrm. Looks like my tendency to mushy background stuff is getting in the way. 1700 words and nothing's exploded! Have to fix that in the next piece...] William finished dressing himself a few minutes later. Gone was the barbarian prince, and in his place was an ordinary, unremarkable merchant. He was wearing a tunic and brown overshirt, belted at the waist, and a pair of dark green leggings. He'd exchanged his doeskin boots for a pair made of sturdy leather. He tugged at the collar of the shirt. It fit well enough, but he'd grown accustomed to wearing less, and it made him uncomfortable. "Eyes," Ben said, looking at William. "And the hair." He'd changed himself. The simple tunic and hose were nothing special, but they emphasized Ben's size, his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He'd kept his boots and slung his sword over his shoulder. He still wore his bracelets, though the charms around his neck were gone, into the pouches tied to his belt. "Do I have to?" William asked, tugging at his hair. It had taken him a few weeks to get used to it, and the constant weight pulling at his head, but he'd found he rather liked it. More importantly, so did Ben. Getting rid of it was problematic as well. "It's distinctive," Ben observed. "It's going to itch when it grows back out," he grumbled. The hair had come as part of the curse that had changed him and bound him to Ben those months ago, made him taller and fitter, leaving his hair long and white, his eyes pale lavender, and his skin clear and tan. The curse was still on him and he stayed that way, unless he fought it, and even then he could only hold it off temporarily. Normally he had no complaint, but it made changing his appearance troublesome. He'd tried cutting his hair a few weeks after he and Ben had met. It grew back, two and a half feet in ten minutes. It itched badly, left him ravenously hungry, and feeling like he had bugs on his head for days. It wasn't something he was looking forward to. Ben was right, though. Sighing, he let his eyes unfocus and his Sight slip in. The colored threads of mana that wove into spells had always been difficult for him to See, but now they almost sprang into focus unbidden. He wasn't sure why, a side effect of the curse, a gift from being bound to Ben, or a result of him finally accepting himself, but it didn't matter. He closed his eyes and wrapped his mind around the tendrils of the curse that wound through him. It was far past his ability to remove, if he'd ever want to, but he was talented enough to suppress it for a little while. Holding it in check, he nodded to Ben, who pulled out his sword and cut his hair short. William felt the curse react and pushed back. As his hair and eyes darkened to shades of brown, he spelled a knot around the curse, locking it in place. The spell was only temporary, but it would do for a while. "Something for you?" William asked as he opened his eyes. Ben shrugged. "I'm nondescript." Laughing, William mounted his horse. "You just hate being noticed," he said. "By anyone but you," Ben answered. That was true. William was the first person he'd been around in years, since his accident, that he was comfortable with. Ben had been a wizard himself, until the accident destroyed his Sight and left him unable to do magic. Even worse, Ben had been born seeing auras, being able to tell from a glance how people were feeling, but the accident had robbed him of that as well, even as it disintegrated his apartment building and killed Mel. It was just a single flash, one experiment gone horribly wrong. It stole the talent that gave his life meaning and the person who'd made it worth living, and thrust him into a world filled with people he could no longer feel. Despondent and terrified, he'd run, and kept running, until he ended up deep in the wilderness. That's where he'd stayed, until William had found him, and made things right again. He still hated being around people. William understood, and ran interference when Ben's gruff barbarian seeming didn't put someone off. "Well, my good man," William said, letting a nasal whine into his voice as he slipped into character, "shall we see what this fair hamlet has to offer?"

And up, thanks to Joe. Ben and William are back, and as domestic as Heroes ever get. Go read, and marvel at the joys of home ownership.

After far too long, Ben and William are back! I'm happy to announce that Dirty Basement has finaly been released! A sequel of sorts to Firegrass, Ben and William find that, even for heroes, home ownership comes with its own unique troubles. (Sword 'n Sorcery adventures for the whole family. Second in a series, collect 'em all!) Thanks much to Sherry, Jason, and Liz for their edits on this one.

I've been noodling around with Wild Life, but the thing that's holding it back, more than anything else, is the fact that the thing is very much not PG -- the whole thing revolves around sex and frustrated desire. Which, while awfully fun in its own way, isn't something I'm gonna be handing off to the kid to read, so things he can see tend to get priority. Read Firegrass, which is set in B&W's barbarian wanderer period. Dirty Basement (which got a bit troublesome during editing today) is after they get back and settle down. Toymaker is set in teh barbarian wanderer period as well, though a bit later on. Most of the shorts are probably going to be set then, since it's ripe for 8-12K word things. The more complex stuff seems to fit after they've settled down. But I ramble. Firegrass, then Toymaker. Should work out.

I live to serve. DnD is something I have to watch out for with these guys. The first draft usually reads like a game transcript. I'm working on changing that this time 'round. I do, in both HTML and PDF format. PM me with which format you'd prefer and I'll send it on.

While I'm letting Busted rest for a while before tackling the rewrite, and not getting any useful editing done on Dirty Basement (the second Ben and William story, a sequel to Firegrass that will, hopefully, be done tonight or tomorrow, but you know how that goes) I've started poking away at another "dump the first draft out" story. And so, I give you... chapter one of Toymaker, a Ben and William on the road adventure. Swords, sorcery, melodramatic monologuing villains, and innuendo. What more could you want?

[i'm feeling the need for some good melodramatic monologuing and denoument (it's all Dio's fault!). Ben and William are always good for that, so while I'm sitting on Busted, and polishing up the last draft of Dirty Basement (the second complete Ben and William story) I give you... Toymaker! Or, rather, the first draft dump of it. That seemed to work pretty well with Busted. My son likes these, so this one's going to be PG, at worst] William reined in his horse as he crested the hill. The mid-morning sun was warm on his naked shoulders, turning his tanned skin a rich gold. A light breeze fanned his long white hair out behind him, near-blinding in the light. The dark leather straps that crossed his bare chest, his only garment beside the short kidskin wrap around his waist, soaked in the heat and gave contrast to the cool air. At his side was a rapier, its hilt and scabbard a matte black with silver tracery. He was tall, lithe, and regal, looking every inch the barbarian prince astride his coal-black mare. Beside him, on a horse as white as William's hair, sat Ben. He was dressed to match, though his skirting was fine green silk. His dark hair was tightly braided and nearly touched the back of his horse, and across his broad shoulders twined black lines and spiral tattoos that were impossible to look closely at. Around his neck were charms on leather thongs. At his wrists were wide bracelets of tooled leather set with small blood red garnets, wrapped around each bicep were strips of braided bronze. His sword was heavy, its menacing aura clear even sheathed. William sighed as he looked at the town below him. Five miles or so at the end of the road that wound lazily down the hillside and through the farmsteads in the valley, along a narrow river. The farms continued for miles on the other side, stopping abruptly at the foot of the mountain range that marked the other side of the valley. It was quiet and pastoral. Innocent even. Hardly what he'd expected. "This the place?" Ben asked. The question was rhetorical. He'd been there with William when they'd driven the bandits off and rescued the family, he'd heard the story as well as William had. It had started with strange noises in the night, then livestock had vanished, until finally their youngest son had been stolen in the night. By the Faerie, or so they'd said. They'd abandoned their farm and fled rather than risk their remaining two daughters. "Looks like it," William replied. He frowned. The family had been frightened, there was no doubt about it, so terrified that they'd left their farm. People just didn't do that, didn't just leave, not unless they were wizards or had the wanderlust. The ties to a realm were too strong, binding people to the land they were born to. It took something catastrophic to change that. That there was no outward sign of anything was worrisome. "It looks peaceful enough." "Yes," Ben said. "Except for the castle and storms." "What?" William looked over at him, puzzled. It was a beautiful day, and there were a scant few wispy clouds in the sky. "Where?" "Follow the road." He did, down the hill, into the town, and out the other side. It went through farms to the foothills, and up the side of a mountain until