Now Available: The Bridge

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Short story number eight is now available! “The Bridge” is the only non-fantasy story that I’m releasing in this group, though it does have a very, very slight hint of the supernatural toward the end, and I wrote that in for a bit of humor. Anyway, here’s the blurb:

Remy Pépin’s been dealt too many harsh blows in his young life. Orphaned, miserably poor, and subjected to occasional bullying from his employer, Remy’s only source of joy and hope is in a superstition shared by a dear friend, Mathilde Jolicoeur. It’s a superstition involving a lit candle sitting by a window, which Mathilde claims attracts luck.

Day after day, Remy lights his candle and waits, convincing himself not to hope for good fortune to come his way — until one snowy evening, when another boy appears at his doorstep, seeking shelter.

The book page at the publisher contains an excerpt, and you can check it out here. As is the usual deal, you’re also entitled to a 20% new release discount if you purchase the story directly from Queerteen Press, and that discount will be good for a week from the release date.

Holiday, Schmoliday

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It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I actually trashed my most recent blog post as it turned out to be way too self-indulgently whiny even for me. Har! So I just avoided posting anything for a week since I figured I wasn’t going to be Ms. Congeniality, considering my writing deprivation.

That said, my holiday from working on Helleville – I don’t expect to get back to it till late next week – has turned out to be less agonizing than I expected. Mind you, I do get reminded about what I’ve been missing every once in a while, and when that happens, I get pretty damned grumpy. Overall, though, I’ve been too busy to think about it – to an extent, anyway.

The highlight of my holiday, ironically, happens to be a day that had the most errands crammed into it. It’s because after running around to take care of stuff, we rewarded ourselves with an afternoon showing of The Avengers, which I seriously, seriously loved as popcorn entertainment. Tomorrow, Saturday, we’ll be at Sonoma for the Echelon Gran Fondo, and then on Sunday, we’ll be at my sister’s for a family reunion potluck thing. Next week is just as filled up as this, with my boss asking me to work extra hours because we’ve been swamped with orders, which is a good thing overall, though I’ll admit to agreeing to the extra hours grudgingly.

One thing about forced holidays from writing is the fact that I’m able to stand back and be more objective about what I’m doing and what I hope to accomplish in the future. And it pretty much eased the sting of work-in-progress separation anxiety.

When I started feeling burnout a couple of years ago, I tried to experiment with ways of “healing” (for lack of a better term), which included writing Arabesque, which, in turn, didn’t quite pan out for me. Then I tried my hand in writing non-LGBT fiction, which also fell flat. This week, while watching my keyboard gather dust, I took stock of how things have progressed so far in relation to future goals.

Then I decided to resurrect an old short story and tweak with it, cautiously assessing my progress each time even though we’re looking at a thousand new words written. While it started out LGBT, I tweaked it for a more general audience, and what got me going was a special source of inspiration: my sisters. I’ll talk more about that next time. For the time being, let’s just say that having an actual (solid?) inspiration really made the experimental rewrites a lot easier to do.

I guess in this case, I learned that there’s a difference between saying, “I want to write a story for a mainstream audience” and saying, “I want to write a story to honor my sisters.” The latter is a lot more personal, just as my writing fiction for LGBT teens is personal. And it looks like that’s what’s been missing in all those attempts at experimenting with new stories and themes.

I honestly have no idea how far I can take this, but even if the story ends up getting trashed, the “Eureka!” moment was so worth it.

And She Emerges All Bloodied and Battered

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Yowza. What the hell just happened? What a way to start the year – month after month of increasing agitation and a crisis of confidence that comes to a head in April. That’s like 1/3 of the year already done, and I’m left reeling and confused. But things are finally settling down, and I’m getting back into a rhythm.

I hate second-guessing my decisions and my work, but I guess those moments are important. They force me to sit back and think seriously about my goals – if I have any, that is – and to reassess the direction I’ve taken. I mean, I continue to be haunted by dozens of “what ifs” regarding my market. Having one of my co-workers retire recently in order to pursue his true passion in art really ate away at me and made me question so many things.

I was actually tempted to take May off from writing LGBT YA fiction in order to focus on producing a fantasy novella that has a more mainstream appeal, but I tried that before, and it fell flat. Sad to think that I was ready to sell out just so I could quit my day job and just focus on my writing. In the end I just had to let that feeling work its way out of my system, and today, I was able to sit down and hammer out 5,000 words for Helleville.

The doubts are still there, though, but they’re not as harsh as before. I haven’t thought about historical fantasy fiction in a long time now, and for that I’m glad. Letting go of that genre indefinitely was a bitter pill to swallow, but I got over it, and now I’m just focused on contemporary stuff and am enjoying my new work-in-progress.

I guess the doubts that linger now touch on my chosen subject matter for Helleville, which revolves around a single mom and her gay kid who’re both tossed into an alternate world by the Soul Warriors as a way of rehabilitating them back into “virtuous” living as defined by the grandparents, who’re both social conservatives. In previous books, I tried to avoid being preachy or outrightly critical of certain people, but this book is different, and it’s necessary for me to make a point regarding the nature of the alternate world in order to establish the conflict arising from the choices that the trapped residents ultimately have to make.

It’ll be a tricky balancing act, and I’ll be going over the pedantic elements during the revision process and will be making them more subtle. Hopefully, anyway, the dark humor of the whole thing will help, but I won’t shy away from my purpose. Too many kids are getting hurt, and having grown up in a conservative Catholic household, I feel pretty confident in my criticisms.

End-of-the-Month Thingamabobs

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I survived April, woohoo! :D Actually, I was supposed to post a Wobbly Noob Diaries entry regarding an epic bike ride I did yesterday with Andy, but I’m really too worn out to do anything remotely thoughtful. Forget it. I’ll post it whenever, I guess.

I just got the cover art for the upcoming single author anthology that’ll be released by Queerteen Press at the end of May. It’s pretty much all of the short stories that’ve been published since the beginning of the year (a total of nine) compiled into one volume.

In somewhat related news, I received some pretty nice reviews of a couple of short stories, which I’ll be adding to my Fantasy Fiction Page. The Novel Approach just posted one for “Clouds’ Illusions”, and QMO Books tackled “Erl-King”. As for future historical fantasy stories and how I should best publish them, I’m trying to sit on that for now as I’m waiting for some important publisher info that’ll help me make my final decision. Once I have it, I’ll definitely post my thoughts here.

Though some doubts remain, I am getting my writing mojo back, and I was able to set aside Rose and Spindle and go back to focusing on Helleville. The story still feels like I’m fumbling my way through the dark, i.e., I still feel like I’m outside my element, writing something contemporary that’s not about Eric and the superhero gang, but the story is progressing nicely. Since I’m still feeling my way forward, I can’t provide a more accurate description of the story’s quirks and so on, but on the whole, it’s like taking all the gothic elements in Desmond and Garrick and modernizing them. No torture chambers, though, but each household does have its “pet” ghost.

I don’t see my confidence growing till after I pass the 20,000-word mark, I suppose, and that’s being generous. :D Maybe 25K to 30K.

Oh, April – You Suck

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Lordy, what an emotional day I had, all related to work: getting swamped with projects because the other custom framer called in sick and saying goodbye to one of my best friends, who’s retiring in order to focus on his art. I’ll miss Herbert. He was very much like the laid-back, favorite uncle type, and I really enjoyed his company for close to ten years at the shop. I wish him all the luck in his endeavors, and I hope he sells a lot of his work (Herbert’s a painter). I gave him a hug and was happy for him when we parted ways, but things didn’t really sink in till I was driving home this evening. I still get teary-eyed whenever I think about him as I type this entry, in fact.

Another thing regarding his retirement that hit home was the fact that he’s now free to work on his paintings. Sure, he still receives an annuity from his previous employers to cover his bills and daily upkeep, but I’m just bummed as all heck that I can’t quit my day job and write full-time. I’ve been feeling the need more and more lately, especially now that I’m growing more confident in my bike riding, and I’d love to have more time to spend keeping my fitness up in addition to puttering around the house and giving it a thorough cleaning, etc., and, yep, above all, lots of time to write.

Oh, man, what I’d give to be able to write full-time. I used to think that I shouldn’t do that because I need those interactions with the staff, and I’m lucky that I get along really well with everyone and that I sincerely like them. But I guess I’m reaching that point when I’m slowly falling out of love with my work, and I’m getting more and more distracted by my life at home. Or what I’d love to be my life at home, anyway.

And why in heck do I blame April for my angst? Let’s just say that this month has been chock-full of angst from day one. Whether it’s about family or work or writing – the mental and emotional inner drama hasn’t let up, and I don’t think I’m doing a particularly stellar job dealing with it. I hope that things improve in May because this ain’t fun by a long shot, and I’m tired of being tired (on several levels). Well, we’ve got one more weekend in April to put up with, and I hope that weekend goes by quickly, so I can welcome May into my reality.

Writerly Quirks – We Hates Them, Precioussss

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I don’t know if other writers go through this, but I tend to suffer through the writing process during the day. When I started publishing five years ago, I sailed through my writing at night – I’m talking late night, i.e., from 10 pm onward, not going to bed till around 1 am, sometimes 2 am. It’s not like that now, and I’m having the worst time focusing.

This is me when I don't reach my goals.

For the past couple of years (three?), I’ve been writing during the afternoon on my days off. And the process is sheer hell. I always sit down at noon with my lunch, and I use that time to catch up on emails (though not necessarily responding to them) and then opening up my .doc files to reread what I’ve written so far.

Now technically that should get me going, having re-familiarized myself with the story, but it never, ever happens that way.

I just can’t get going once I’m on. Ideas come excruciatingly slowly. The motivation’s absent. I’d rather read or do something else, not write, and yet, the afternoon, when it’s all quiet and nice around here, is really the most optimal time for me to be creative.

I guess there’s such a thing as a person’s “creative hours”, when he’s at his most focused and most inspired. I probably need to go back to writing at night, though what grates is the fact that I’ll be losing out on proper sleep, which will affect the following day for me.

Today I didn’t have any reason to stall or lose interest or energy, etc., but I did. In fact, I lost all interest in Helleville after tweaking with it a little that I shifted my attention to Rose and Spindle and lightly reworked that. Now I’ve got two works-in-progress in hand, which I didn’t want, but my interest for both stories is now divided. I need to ignore one and keep plugging away at the other.

How very annoying. I feel like I’ve just wasted an entire afternoon on nothing but fiddling with this or that and in the end, have nothing to show for it but divided attention.

Now Available: Clouds’ Illusions

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Here’s short story number seven from me! :) “Clouds’ Illusions” is a modern fairy tale-y thing that, frankly, I really can’t describe more accurately as it’s a story that you shouldn’t read literally. Yeah, it’s an extended metaphor about a gay kid’s process of maturation.

Five-year-old Simon, along with his parents and older sister Amy, go to a carnival one day. When a sudden deluge separates the family and leaves Simon alone and frightened, the child undergoes a journey of maturation as he searches for his parents and sister.

Wandering through the ruined carnival, Simon encounters rain-soaked clowns, muddied carnival-goers, and a special young boy named Brian, who’s also lost. The longer Simon stays in the carnival and the rain that continues to threaten everyone’s fun, the more he learns about life, and he leaves the carnival a man with hopeful prospects ahead of him.

“Clouds’ Illusions” is a modern fairy tale, a metaphor for a young gay man’s coming-of-age with all its illusions and truths, and the wisdom that comes from the marriage of rain and sun.

An excerpt can be read at the book page, and you’re also entitled to a new release discount of 20%, which will be good for a week. :)

Trivia bit: this story was inspired by this song (rather sentimental, I know):