Since finishing my upcoming novel Everything, I've found myself experiencing some kind of creative, literary bipolar thing. I would typically advise against working on more than one idea at a time, simply because it makes it difficult to commit to a project and hence finish the project. But I am breaking my own steadfast rule and I'm working on two stories at once--one by day, the other after the sun goes down, respectively. I really should make a decision.
The daytime story (still untitled) is set in the summer of 1978 in Pennsylvania and revolves around the life of twelve-year-old Santana Mae Howard, a young girl being raised solely by her father in a very multicultural, blue collar, urban neighborhood. There's a lot of classic music and vintage imagery from that era, several pre-adolescent characters, a lot of color and sunshine and nostalgia. So, the ideas flow best for that story during the day.
The second is a very dark novel, which already has the title 167 Seconds. It's about a twenty-four-year-old social services student, Adrian Randal, and her experience in a maximum security women's correctional facility after she shoots her brother-in-law sixteen times with a 9mm Beretta (you could say she had a very good reason...or maybe not. Depends on your personal values, I guess). The story line is non-linear and does some jumping around in time, although not to the point of being confusing. For the first half of the book, there are two story lines being told congruently--Adrian's life during the year prior to killing her brother-in-law, and the years she spends incarcerated for that murder. The second half of the book (as I see it right now) will focus on Adrian's re-entry into society after being released from one of the worst women's prisons in the state of Georgia. This prison is fictional, mind you. I could have used Pulaski State Prison, as I had some firsthand research sources for that facility, but I preferred to create my own prison so I could describe it however I wanted and make up my own rules (within realistic reason, of course). 167 Seconds will have a huge focus on PTSD and how so many ex-cons experience difficulty trying to re-assimilate into society, into their families, into the workplace, and so forth, after years behind bars. No...this is NOT Orange is the New Black--it isn't even close, not even in the spirit of that book/show, not reminiscent of it at all whatsoever. If you MUST relate it to some previously written prison story...think, I dunno...Oz but with all women, I guess, sort of. That's only a portion of the story, anyway. Unlike the 1978 story, this book has very little color, lots of grays and browns and blacks, lots of metal and concrete, a shitload of profanity, and a great deal of graphic violence. And within all that scary, dark, fretful storytelling, there's a love story. No, not a prison love story. A post-prison love story between Adrian and Thalia, a friend of Adrian's sister who must try to wade through Adrian's acquired dysfunction to get to the wonderful woman she knows is underneath. Thalia must learn to understand PTSD and how it is affecting Adrian if she hopes to have a romantic and fulfilling life with her. And Adrian must learn to understand her own condition as well, if she ever hopes to be emotionally stable and be able to enjoy life as a free woman. The two of them will have an interesting road together, to say the least.
What's the significance of the title? Well, it came to me almost immediately after writing down the plot summary, before I even wrote the first narrative line. Adrian's attorney discovers that it had taken Adrian right about 2 mins and 47 second (167 Seconds) to commit the murder that changes her life forever, the murder that will change her forever. Doesn't seem like a very long time...and it isn't. There are a few references throughout the book as to what kinds of profound and impacting things can happen to you in under three minutes, actually. Not just Adrian's crime. There are lots of other little factoids and tidbits to think about as well: Was it a crime of passion or something premeditated? Is she a hero for what she's done, or just another vigilante thug? What would you--the reader--have done in her circumstances, or do you even know? That's one of the biggest subconscious questions the story asks, so much that Adrian (including her family members) has no physical description whatsoever. That's intentional because A) I don't want to suggest that anyone of a particular race/nationality would be more or less prone to violence, and B) I want the reader to be able to put themselves in her shoes, and that would be difficult if Adrian was undoubtedly black or white or Asian or Latina, etc. She could be any of those, at least bi-racially so. Her situation could happen to any one of us.
Looks like I'm making my decision as to which one to put all my time and effort into. The 1978 story is promising, too, though. It's just not where my heart is, apparently. Maybe next time, when this one is finished. My wife and some friends are going to be disappointed, but they were disappointed when I suspended Monasco 3 to write Everything, and that one turned out to be a pretty good decision.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
My Interview with author AJ Adaire
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Sunday, June 22, 2014
So, maybe I should do this...
At the risk of invisibility among a billion other bloggers, I've let this page wither and cough and gasp for breath over the past couple years. I realize it's a great tool for free-writing, even if it does get sucked into the cyber void forever. So, I will revive it, write some stuff, post the link, and keep on movin'.
Lately, I've been thinking about my role as a LesFic author and where I'm supposed to fit in to that world. I haven't really read much LesFic, to be honest. What I did read, some years ago, did not impress me in the least, particularly as a fourth-year Literature student, working on my Bachelor's. Over the past year, however, I have been pleasantly surprised in my re-involvement in the LesFic scene, and I realize there's some pretty worthy competition out there (and maybe there always was, but I wasn't exposed to those authors). I've never been an intellectual in the classic sense, although I do consider myself to be reasonably intelligent. I'm part of the writing field and now have a literature degree, but my verbal communication skills have always been much more 'street'. And I think I write best, coming from that same place. My characters in the past have been drawn very neatly with a certain nobility, if you will. I've kept them clean-cut and doing the 'right' thing. And that might appeal to a wider LesFic reading audience, but it just hasn't been my personal experience in life, and so I'm thinking maybe I should be more authentic in my writing, from here on out.
My experience has been this: I grew up in a multicultural urban neighborhood in PA, just northwest of Philly, then found myself stuck in Alabama throughout high school where I gravitated toward the local kids who drank and smoked weed and had run-ins with the sheriff every other weekend. I was a poor student because in my Alabama high school clique it was 'cooler' to flunk than to do well. I never took the SAT's but did manage to test very highly into our school gifted program--go figure. I did not go to college after high school. Well, I did, but I dropped out after one semester because it cut too much into my free time...which I spent doing a whole lot of nothing. I've lived in five major cities as an adult--Atlanta, Los Angeles, Fresno, Philadelphia, and St. Louis. I've known gang members, homeless alcoholics, and crack addicts (never banged or was addicted to anything myself). I once spent twenty-one much deserved days in the county jail for doing dumb shit as a young person. I spent entirely too much of my twenties in bars and night clubs. I used to be a very talented Hip-Hop MC and also a club DJ in Los Angeles, and so the LA underground Hip-Hop scene was my whole world for most of the 90s. During that era, I ended up becoming technically homeless; I lived in a residential hotel in downtown LA for a year and half, where the hotel manager was shot dead in front of my door by another tenant who thereafter shot himself. I believe in an eye for an eye, but I also believe karma takes care of most of that for you. I think comics like Lewis Black and shows like Veep are hilarious because of the ruthless, brutal humor, and I don't know anyone, to this day, who doesn't use the word "fuck" in everyday conversation. I made it through Army Basic Training at thirty years old and though I don't own a gun at this time, I know how to use one (responsibly) and do plan to buy one in the future, something easy to handle, probably a 9mm something-or-other, strictly for home defense. I'm a smoker. I have been for thirty-five years, though I'm trying to quit--not because it isn't socially acceptable anymore but because thirty-five years is a long fucking time to be sucking on formaldehyde and rat poison and calling it a guilty pleasure.
These are not things I'm here to glorify nor complain about. They just are what they are--the realities of where I've been, a lot which have shaped me as a writer, some of which have probably shaped me as a person, hopefully for the better. I'd like to think I've learned from my mistakes and under-achievement and that even the scariest experiences have made me well-rounded. Hence, there are topics that I'm likely to write about that other LesFic authors cannot or will not attempt. I can give you grit. I can give you dark humor. I can give you streets and bars and jails and profanity, even a little sex and violence. I'm perfectly comfortable with making you uncomfortable.
Lately, I've been thinking about my role as a LesFic author and where I'm supposed to fit in to that world. I haven't really read much LesFic, to be honest. What I did read, some years ago, did not impress me in the least, particularly as a fourth-year Literature student, working on my Bachelor's. Over the past year, however, I have been pleasantly surprised in my re-involvement in the LesFic scene, and I realize there's some pretty worthy competition out there (and maybe there always was, but I wasn't exposed to those authors). I've never been an intellectual in the classic sense, although I do consider myself to be reasonably intelligent. I'm part of the writing field and now have a literature degree, but my verbal communication skills have always been much more 'street'. And I think I write best, coming from that same place. My characters in the past have been drawn very neatly with a certain nobility, if you will. I've kept them clean-cut and doing the 'right' thing. And that might appeal to a wider LesFic reading audience, but it just hasn't been my personal experience in life, and so I'm thinking maybe I should be more authentic in my writing, from here on out.
My experience has been this: I grew up in a multicultural urban neighborhood in PA, just northwest of Philly, then found myself stuck in Alabama throughout high school where I gravitated toward the local kids who drank and smoked weed and had run-ins with the sheriff every other weekend. I was a poor student because in my Alabama high school clique it was 'cooler' to flunk than to do well. I never took the SAT's but did manage to test very highly into our school gifted program--go figure. I did not go to college after high school. Well, I did, but I dropped out after one semester because it cut too much into my free time...which I spent doing a whole lot of nothing. I've lived in five major cities as an adult--Atlanta, Los Angeles, Fresno, Philadelphia, and St. Louis. I've known gang members, homeless alcoholics, and crack addicts (never banged or was addicted to anything myself). I once spent twenty-one much deserved days in the county jail for doing dumb shit as a young person. I spent entirely too much of my twenties in bars and night clubs. I used to be a very talented Hip-Hop MC and also a club DJ in Los Angeles, and so the LA underground Hip-Hop scene was my whole world for most of the 90s. During that era, I ended up becoming technically homeless; I lived in a residential hotel in downtown LA for a year and half, where the hotel manager was shot dead in front of my door by another tenant who thereafter shot himself. I believe in an eye for an eye, but I also believe karma takes care of most of that for you. I think comics like Lewis Black and shows like Veep are hilarious because of the ruthless, brutal humor, and I don't know anyone, to this day, who doesn't use the word "fuck" in everyday conversation. I made it through Army Basic Training at thirty years old and though I don't own a gun at this time, I know how to use one (responsibly) and do plan to buy one in the future, something easy to handle, probably a 9mm something-or-other, strictly for home defense. I'm a smoker. I have been for thirty-five years, though I'm trying to quit--not because it isn't socially acceptable anymore but because thirty-five years is a long fucking time to be sucking on formaldehyde and rat poison and calling it a guilty pleasure.
These are not things I'm here to glorify nor complain about. They just are what they are--the realities of where I've been, a lot which have shaped me as a writer, some of which have probably shaped me as a person, hopefully for the better. I'd like to think I've learned from my mistakes and under-achievement and that even the scariest experiences have made me well-rounded. Hence, there are topics that I'm likely to write about that other LesFic authors cannot or will not attempt. I can give you grit. I can give you dark humor. I can give you streets and bars and jails and profanity, even a little sex and violence. I'm perfectly comfortable with making you uncomfortable.
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