Casting Call

About ten days ago I finished writing Glass Houses. More accurately, I wrote an end to the story. Reaching the ending for the first time felt really good.

Originally I planned to end Glass Houses at a point in time early in my thirties. The closer I got to my imagined conclusion, the more obvious it became that too many loose ends remained to end there. I kept writing.

Writing a memoir was supposed to be a way to share how I discovered and came to terms with being gay. It turned out to be that and more. Reliving my past dredged up a lot of unresolved feelings and emotions. Writing about and working through them has been an intensely emotional journey of self-discovery that ain't over yet.

There is another book in my story. I haven't pieced it all together but know the gist of what it's about. The idea for the second book helped me see how Glass Houses had to end. The story took on a life of its own. Decisions about what to include or leave out were much easier to make.

Since reaching the end I've been working with a hard copy to make final edits. I finished those the other day and am about halfway through making the changes to the file. I should finish this weekend.

Writing the book was easy. Getting it published is going to be an uphill battle. At the moment I'm overwhelmed by all the information and choices.

I could self-publish Glass Houses as an e-book on Amazon.com tomorrow. That and other self-publishing options will always be available. Perhaps I'm deluded but I'm confident enough to want to aim higher.

Glass Houses showcases my talent as a writer. I happen to think it's also a moving story with broad commercial appeal. Readers tell me it would make a great movie.

I like the idea of a movie. It does, however, raise one important question. Who would play...

The Crotchety Old Man?