Saturday the writer's group discussed the first 5000 words of Addicted, my first work of fiction. By and large the comments were positive. Especially considering it's my first attempt at fiction, I was very pleased. Since Saturday I've been working on revising the manuscript based on their feedback.
Except for me, everyone at this meeting was female. They said they needed to know more about what Josh (the main character) is thinking and feeling--especially during or immediately after the one sex scene they read. Adding his reaction to the situation never would have occurred to me and I'm grateful to the group for pointing out specific paragraphs where more insight is needed.
The group gave me a lot of minor edits and pointed out my tendency to go overboard describing action. They offered several specific suggestions to strengthen or tighten up specific scenes. To the best of my knowledge, all their suggestions have been incorporated in the revised draft.
The biggest criticism was that Josh comes across as more than a little whiny. I tried to show how devastated he was by the recent (bad) ending of his 17-year relationship. Since almost everyone felt the same way, I was forced to agree I'd probably gone too far. Again, I'm grateful for the input (and equally glad they didn't see the earlier versions where even I thought he was too whiny).
They also encouraged me to eliminate the first chapter. The purpose when I wrote it was to lay-out all the back story. Essentially it's written like my memoir, Glass Houses--all telling and no showing. Once I got past the first chapter I felt a lot more comfortable writing fiction. Tossing out the first chapter made sense. It took a lot of effort but I finally managed to incorporate all the important parts into the second chapter (now Chapter One) and cut the rest.
Some found Josh unlikable because of his behavior. He smokes pot like crazy to fill the void in his life since the break-up and in the opening chapters has a couple of drinks. The clincher for some was Josh driving while stoned and drunk. I'm sticking to my guns on this one but did go back and add more about his motivations for the behavior.
A few readers outside of the group have been upset about Josh having unprotected sex. Again, I'm not backing down. However I did add more about what he was thinking and feeling to cause his reckless behavior.
Addicted is a work of fiction. The characters and the story are made up. But the world where the characters live and in which the story takes place is real. The things that happen may not be pretty or moral or politically correct, but they reflect a certain reality. I know that reality is foreign to many potential readers, but once upon a time it was home to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Showing posts with label Addicted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Addicted. Show all posts
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Six Sentences Sunday
The following is my second excerpt for Six Sentences Sunday from my work in progress, Addicted. After meeting friends for cocktails, Josh Freeman has a little too much to drink. Sexy Michael DeLuca volunteers to walk him home.
Inside the apartment things get too hot to share here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Inside the apartment the pair embraced again. Josh untucked the t-shirt from Michael’s jeans, pulled it over his head, and ran his hands over the furry, muscular chest he had uncovered. Michael yanked Josh’s shirt over his head in a swift motion, kissing him thoroughly while he, too explored Josh’s naked chest with his hands.
Josh moaned, caressing the muscular arms and tracing his fingers down Michael’s spine as the two kissed like teenagers at a drive-in movie. Pulling away, Josh looked Michael in the eye and saw lust equal to his own. Taking Michael by the hand, he led him through the apartment to the bed.
Inside the apartment things get too hot to share here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Another Epiphany
Writing Addicted continues to be a lot of fun. I've written about 13,000 words in twelve chapters. Even I'm surprised by the direction the story has taken.
Addicted is the story of Josh Freeman, a 39 year-old gay man who finds himself suddenly single after a twelve year relationship ends. Josh assumes his life is over and that he'll never know love again. The three sex scenes in the first 13,000 words are not gratuitous--they serve a purpose in advancing the story.
Earlier this week I shared the first ten chapters with two of my most trusted straight female friends. I warned them about the sex scenes and worried they might be offended by the graphic content. I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear back from them.
They e-mailed me today with their reviews. They love it. In fact, though both are big fans of Glass Houses, they say Addicted is much better. One admitted to a blush or two and said she might never read Danielle Steele again. You could have knocked me over with a feather!
Upon further investigation, turns out that something like ninety percent of the people who read male/male romances are straight women! I had no idea. I figured the only people with any interest in reading gay romances were gay men.
If I'd have thought about it for even five minutes I could have figured it out. Gay men don't read romances--they watch porn on the Internet. Straight men don't read gay romances either, and until their wives find out also watch porn online. I don't see lesbians panting over male/male romances either. Straight women are the only group left.
I mentioned a few posts ago that Adrienne Wilder, future New York Times bestseller, invited me to join a Facebook group for people who write male/male romances. Very few members of the group are men. The majority of members are women.
When it comes to sex scenes in gay romance novels, I can ALWAYS tell if it was written by a woman. The good ones get 99.9 percent right...enough to fool the straight women who read this stuff. But to perhaps most men and any gay man, that .1 percent gives them away every time.
After sharing the reviews I received from my friends with her, Adrienne told me male writers of male/male romances are in high demand. In fact, many of the women who write in the genre use male pseudonyms and otherwise try to mask their gender. Nice to know the advantage goes to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Addicted is the story of Josh Freeman, a 39 year-old gay man who finds himself suddenly single after a twelve year relationship ends. Josh assumes his life is over and that he'll never know love again. The three sex scenes in the first 13,000 words are not gratuitous--they serve a purpose in advancing the story.
Earlier this week I shared the first ten chapters with two of my most trusted straight female friends. I warned them about the sex scenes and worried they might be offended by the graphic content. I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear back from them.
They e-mailed me today with their reviews. They love it. In fact, though both are big fans of Glass Houses, they say Addicted is much better. One admitted to a blush or two and said she might never read Danielle Steele again. You could have knocked me over with a feather!
Upon further investigation, turns out that something like ninety percent of the people who read male/male romances are straight women! I had no idea. I figured the only people with any interest in reading gay romances were gay men.
If I'd have thought about it for even five minutes I could have figured it out. Gay men don't read romances--they watch porn on the Internet. Straight men don't read gay romances either, and until their wives find out also watch porn online. I don't see lesbians panting over male/male romances either. Straight women are the only group left.
I mentioned a few posts ago that Adrienne Wilder, future New York Times bestseller, invited me to join a Facebook group for people who write male/male romances. Very few members of the group are men. The majority of members are women.
When it comes to sex scenes in gay romance novels, I can ALWAYS tell if it was written by a woman. The good ones get 99.9 percent right...enough to fool the straight women who read this stuff. But to perhaps most men and any gay man, that .1 percent gives them away every time.
After sharing the reviews I received from my friends with her, Adrienne told me male writers of male/male romances are in high demand. In fact, many of the women who write in the genre use male pseudonyms and otherwise try to mask their gender. Nice to know the advantage goes to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Myth Buster
I just finished knocking out another chapter for my new book, Addicted. When I sit down to write my goal is to get through at least one chapter. Today's chapter was number ten.
Writing Glass Houses only took me four months. Since it's a true story, all I had to do was write down what happened. The problem was deciding what to include and what to leave out. Mostly I included everything.
By comparison, writing Addicted is a little more challenging and a lot more fun. I sit down to write with only a vague idea of the purpose of the chapter. Somehow, the chapter comes together--usually taking off in an unexpected direction.
Even when I have more time, ending a chapter usually forces me to stop writing. I have to let what I've written float around in my head for a while. The challenge is figuring out how to start the next chapter.
Sleeping on it helps. By the time I start writing again, I still have no idea where I'm going but know where the chapter needs to start. Some chapters come out easier than others, but eventually, I get to where I'm supposed to be.
Believe it or not, I still have no idea where the story is going. I'm not worried. The story is somewhere inside of me waiting to be told. All I have to do is keep writing and it will come out.
Before I started writing I thought you had to know the whole story before you started. That little misperception kept me from even trying to write for a good fifteen years. Busting that myth has been very liberating for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Writing Glass Houses only took me four months. Since it's a true story, all I had to do was write down what happened. The problem was deciding what to include and what to leave out. Mostly I included everything.
By comparison, writing Addicted is a little more challenging and a lot more fun. I sit down to write with only a vague idea of the purpose of the chapter. Somehow, the chapter comes together--usually taking off in an unexpected direction.
Even when I have more time, ending a chapter usually forces me to stop writing. I have to let what I've written float around in my head for a while. The challenge is figuring out how to start the next chapter.
Sleeping on it helps. By the time I start writing again, I still have no idea where I'm going but know where the chapter needs to start. Some chapters come out easier than others, but eventually, I get to where I'm supposed to be.
Believe it or not, I still have no idea where the story is going. I'm not worried. The story is somewhere inside of me waiting to be told. All I have to do is keep writing and it will come out.
Before I started writing I thought you had to know the whole story before you started. That little misperception kept me from even trying to write for a good fifteen years. Busting that myth has been very liberating for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Getting My Genre On
You may have noticed a drop-off in the frequency of posts here on the blog. The reason for the decline is that I'm spending every spare moment working on my first novel, Addicted. Regulars might recall the same thing happened when I got rolling with Glass Houses.
As Glass Houses is a memoir, the challenges I faced in writing it revolved around making sure the time line and events were accurate. A couple of times I got stuck. The struggles involved figuring out whether or not particular incidents--all part of my life history--were relevant to the story I was trying to tell.
I was also acutely aware that some fraction of the potential audience for Glass Houses were or would know the people I wrote about--especially me. Consequently, there were certain boundaries I wouldn't cross. People don't need to know everything.
Those who've read the book know I share a lot about my past others would have kept to themselves. To the best of my knowledge, everything I write about is true. But it's not the whole truth--in some cases I left a lot out.
With Addicted, those barriers and limits are gone. Writing without fear is liberating, exhilarating, and more than a little shocking. I've written just over 7,000 words (about 25, double-spaced pages) which include tons of dialogue and two sex scenes. I thought the first scene was graphic...until I wrote the second one.
It has never been my intention to write erotica. Yet just seven chapters into my first work of fiction, that's exactly what I'm doing. I can hardly believe it myself. Even worse, I'm already thinking about at least three other books along the same lines.
The stuff I'm writing now makes me blush. Before sending it off to a publisher, I'm going to have to come up with a nom de plume. Ain't no way I'm going to let folks know this stuff comes from...
The Crotchety Old Man
As Glass Houses is a memoir, the challenges I faced in writing it revolved around making sure the time line and events were accurate. A couple of times I got stuck. The struggles involved figuring out whether or not particular incidents--all part of my life history--were relevant to the story I was trying to tell.
I was also acutely aware that some fraction of the potential audience for Glass Houses were or would know the people I wrote about--especially me. Consequently, there were certain boundaries I wouldn't cross. People don't need to know everything.
Those who've read the book know I share a lot about my past others would have kept to themselves. To the best of my knowledge, everything I write about is true. But it's not the whole truth--in some cases I left a lot out.
With Addicted, those barriers and limits are gone. Writing without fear is liberating, exhilarating, and more than a little shocking. I've written just over 7,000 words (about 25, double-spaced pages) which include tons of dialogue and two sex scenes. I thought the first scene was graphic...until I wrote the second one.
It has never been my intention to write erotica. Yet just seven chapters into my first work of fiction, that's exactly what I'm doing. I can hardly believe it myself. Even worse, I'm already thinking about at least three other books along the same lines.
The stuff I'm writing now makes me blush. Before sending it off to a publisher, I'm going to have to come up with a nom de plume. Ain't no way I'm going to let folks know this stuff comes from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Toil and Trouble
OK. That comment I made a few posts ago about having a blast writing Addicted? I take it back.
With the technical writing I've done for the last 25 years, the first few paragraphs are always the hardest. I breezed through the first and second chapters of Addicted and amazed myself with an ability to write dialogue that must have been hiding in a dark corner of my mind. So far, so good.
The next day I knocked out two more really good chapters. I blogged about my surprise at how easily the characters resolved the struggle I was having to get from where I was to where I wanted to be. The success must have gone to my head.
Yesterday I banged out a horrible fifth chapter. Nothing about it came easy. Instead of getting easier, each paragraph was harder to write than the one before. I wrote myself into a corner from which there appeared to be no escape.
Today I forced myself to work on the next chapter. The gum surgery I had last year was more enjoyable. But I labored on and pushed my way through, sentence by sentence until I finally ended up where I needed to be. Hallelujah!
The first four chapters are really good. The next two kinda suck, but got me from point A to point B. Writing them wasn't fun...it was work!
The lesson learned? Don't think, write. Keep writing and sooner or later, things will work themselves out.
Having reached point B, I'm now ready to jump into the meat of the story. The stage is set. It was a bumpy ride, but now Josh Freeman is exactly where I need him to be. The rest of the story lurks somewhere inside...
The Crotchety Old Man
With the technical writing I've done for the last 25 years, the first few paragraphs are always the hardest. I breezed through the first and second chapters of Addicted and amazed myself with an ability to write dialogue that must have been hiding in a dark corner of my mind. So far, so good.
The next day I knocked out two more really good chapters. I blogged about my surprise at how easily the characters resolved the struggle I was having to get from where I was to where I wanted to be. The success must have gone to my head.
Yesterday I banged out a horrible fifth chapter. Nothing about it came easy. Instead of getting easier, each paragraph was harder to write than the one before. I wrote myself into a corner from which there appeared to be no escape.
Today I forced myself to work on the next chapter. The gum surgery I had last year was more enjoyable. But I labored on and pushed my way through, sentence by sentence until I finally ended up where I needed to be. Hallelujah!
The first four chapters are really good. The next two kinda suck, but got me from point A to point B. Writing them wasn't fun...it was work!
The lesson learned? Don't think, write. Keep writing and sooner or later, things will work themselves out.
Having reached point B, I'm now ready to jump into the meat of the story. The stage is set. It was a bumpy ride, but now Josh Freeman is exactly where I need him to be. The rest of the story lurks somewhere inside...
The Crotchety Old Man
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Don't Think, Write!
Thinking about writing a book? Well, stop thinking and start writing. Thinking is the single-biggest obstacle to writing a book.
I know this is true from experience. For years...make that decades...I thought about writing a book. During all those years of thinking I didn't get a single word on the page. Not one word.
In On Writing, Stephen King says writing a book is like an archeological dig. The story is there. The writer's job is to unearth it. Using plot to unearth the story is like bulldozing the dig--you'll get everything out, but the fine details will likely get destroyed in the process.
That was certainly the case with Glass Houses. Being a memoir, all I needed to do was write down what happened. Once I started writing it only took four months to finish. The story didn't really become visible to me until I was more than halfway through the book.
Frankly, writing a memoir is a lot harder than writing a novel. A memoir is based on a certain history. I spent a lot of time researching when things happened to make sure I got it right...or at least, close to right. I had to deal with a lot of problems too, like too many characters, being true to the characters without pissing anyone off, and masking the identity of certain individuals.
Last night I fell asleep trying to figure out how to advance the plot of my new book, Addicted. I knew where I wanted to go but couldn't figure out how to get there. The answer didn't come to me in my dreams, either.
During my "writing hour" today, I decided to divert from the plot with the introduction of a female best friend. Before the hour was up I'd written two more chapters that landed me exactly where I wanted to go. Even more amazing is that better than 85 percent of what I wrote today was dialogue.
Josh Freeman and Linda Delgado are entirely made up. Josh started out being loosely based on me, but now he's very much his own person. The idea for Linda came from my life as well but she, too, has become her own person. Like real people, there are things each character would and wouldn't say or do.
The first chapter I wrote today was about a phone call from Linda inviting Josh to join her at the swimming pool.The second chapter is about the conversation they had around the pool. Almost every single word in both chapters is dialogue.
Conversations go someplace. They have a purpose, even if it's just catching each other up on recent events. The characters, Josh and Linda in this case, drove the story in a particular direction which solved all the problems I'd created in my head thinking about how to advance the plot.
Writing Glass Houses was hard--a labor of love and sometimes painful remembering. I'm having a blast writing Addicted. There are no walls or boundaries, just Josh, Linda, and...
The Crotchety Old Man
I know this is true from experience. For years...make that decades...I thought about writing a book. During all those years of thinking I didn't get a single word on the page. Not one word.
In On Writing, Stephen King says writing a book is like an archeological dig. The story is there. The writer's job is to unearth it. Using plot to unearth the story is like bulldozing the dig--you'll get everything out, but the fine details will likely get destroyed in the process.
That was certainly the case with Glass Houses. Being a memoir, all I needed to do was write down what happened. Once I started writing it only took four months to finish. The story didn't really become visible to me until I was more than halfway through the book.
Frankly, writing a memoir is a lot harder than writing a novel. A memoir is based on a certain history. I spent a lot of time researching when things happened to make sure I got it right...or at least, close to right. I had to deal with a lot of problems too, like too many characters, being true to the characters without pissing anyone off, and masking the identity of certain individuals.
Last night I fell asleep trying to figure out how to advance the plot of my new book, Addicted. I knew where I wanted to go but couldn't figure out how to get there. The answer didn't come to me in my dreams, either.
During my "writing hour" today, I decided to divert from the plot with the introduction of a female best friend. Before the hour was up I'd written two more chapters that landed me exactly where I wanted to go. Even more amazing is that better than 85 percent of what I wrote today was dialogue.
Josh Freeman and Linda Delgado are entirely made up. Josh started out being loosely based on me, but now he's very much his own person. The idea for Linda came from my life as well but she, too, has become her own person. Like real people, there are things each character would and wouldn't say or do.
The first chapter I wrote today was about a phone call from Linda inviting Josh to join her at the swimming pool.The second chapter is about the conversation they had around the pool. Almost every single word in both chapters is dialogue.
Conversations go someplace. They have a purpose, even if it's just catching each other up on recent events. The characters, Josh and Linda in this case, drove the story in a particular direction which solved all the problems I'd created in my head thinking about how to advance the plot.
Writing Glass Houses was hard--a labor of love and sometimes painful remembering. I'm having a blast writing Addicted. There are no walls or boundaries, just Josh, Linda, and...
The Crotchety Old Man
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A Serious Writer
The gay publishing house where I submitted Glass Houses says they are only interested in quality works from serious writers. While quality is a subjective thing, the "serious writer" part means they expect more books to be forthcoming. In fact, they ask for information about works in progress.
I lied. At the time of the submission I wasn't working on anything. Rather than say so, I said I was working on a follow-up memoir focused on some of the addiction issues uncovered while writing Glass Houses.
It wasn't a barefaced lie. I'd been thinking about the follow-up memoir for weeks but hadn't written a single word. Due to the content, unless I wanted to get fired I had decided writing the follow-up wasn't going to be possible until after I retired.
My Aunt Judy (and others) have told me Glass Houses is a little raw. By raw they mean gritty. I talk openly but carefully about my past drug use and some sexual encounters. I felt comfortable doing so because the "true confession" stuff took place so long ago.
My lie to the publisher has been fixed. I have officially started writing my second book. Rather than a memoir, Addicted is a work of fiction about Josh Freeman and his addiction to relationships and sex.
Regular readers know I'm terrified of writing fiction. Just the idea of coming up with believable dialogue gives me nightmares. Or it did, until the incredibly talented Adrienne Wilder took me under her wing.
The turnaround moment came as I was reading Stephen King's memoir On Writing. Adrienne says it is required reading for any aspiring writer. The website of my publisher says the same thing. Even though I haven't yet finished reading, I have to agree.
Writing fiction is liberating. The story behind Addicted is loosely based on the same idea as the follow-up memoir. But because the characters exist only in my imagination, I don't have to worry about hurting anyone, incriminating myself, or getting the facts wrong.
Unlike Glass Houses, Addicted is primarily for gay or very gay-friendly audiences. It goes beyond raw and gritty to downright pornographic. The first 2000 words include dialogue and a graphic sex scene.
Who knew? A year ago the idea of writing a book seemed impossible. Now I have finished one and started a second. Just goes to show you anything is possible, even for...
The Crotchety Old Man
I lied. At the time of the submission I wasn't working on anything. Rather than say so, I said I was working on a follow-up memoir focused on some of the addiction issues uncovered while writing Glass Houses.
It wasn't a barefaced lie. I'd been thinking about the follow-up memoir for weeks but hadn't written a single word. Due to the content, unless I wanted to get fired I had decided writing the follow-up wasn't going to be possible until after I retired.
My Aunt Judy (and others) have told me Glass Houses is a little raw. By raw they mean gritty. I talk openly but carefully about my past drug use and some sexual encounters. I felt comfortable doing so because the "true confession" stuff took place so long ago.
My lie to the publisher has been fixed. I have officially started writing my second book. Rather than a memoir, Addicted is a work of fiction about Josh Freeman and his addiction to relationships and sex.
Regular readers know I'm terrified of writing fiction. Just the idea of coming up with believable dialogue gives me nightmares. Or it did, until the incredibly talented Adrienne Wilder took me under her wing.
The turnaround moment came as I was reading Stephen King's memoir On Writing. Adrienne says it is required reading for any aspiring writer. The website of my
Writing fiction is liberating. The story behind Addicted is loosely based on the same idea as the follow-up memoir. But because the characters exist only in my imagination, I don't have to worry about hurting anyone, incriminating myself, or getting the facts wrong.
Unlike Glass Houses, Addicted is primarily for gay or very gay-friendly audiences. It goes beyond raw and gritty to downright pornographic. The first 2000 words include dialogue and a graphic sex scene.
Who knew? A year ago the idea of writing a book seemed impossible. Now I have finished one and started a second. Just goes to show you anything is possible, even for...
The Crotchety Old Man
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