One of the ideal replacements could be buspirone. – Headaches, nausea, nervousness and agitation, drowsiness or insomnia during the first few days ordering cialis without prescription of treatment. What type of Procedures are Used? Two kinds of exercises improve erection health Meditation on regular basis is online generic viagra also helpful to beat stressors and enhance reproductive health Planning weakened to do something exotic, exciting, enjoyable and pleasing as well Keeping you away from negative feelings like rejection, low-self esteem, anxiety, fear etc. People can buy Kamagra online through any of amerikabulteni.com prices in uk viagra reliable pharmacy at reasonable prices. The shift from abuser to non-abuser ONLY happens when the abuser decides to assume a life not governed by controlling others. discount viagra http://amerikabulteni.com/2012/03/16/hispanik-basketbolcuya-irkci-tezahurat-green-cardin-nerede/A couple of misfits in the Irish iteration of high school find each other and have a relationship that sometimes borders on the obsessive, or is it just very deep? I found the book affecting, also disturbing in some ways. I was especially curious, having an Irish heritage from the West of Ireland where this tale begins and returns to (the main male character surname is Waldron, which is also our family name from the ancestors in Roscommon), about clues to Irish speech patterns and the geography of every day life, and for that “Normal People” absolutely does not disappoint. Like Junot Diaz, Sally Rooney also does not use punctuation around dialogue, which is an interesting way to keep the reader’s attention always razor focused. I’m not sure how I feel about it. It seemed to work ok here, though. Certainly much more than a present-day Irish version of the “St. Elmo’s Fire” story – a group of kids from last year of secondary school through University and beyond – although it very much focuses on the two main characters Marianne and Connell. By the end I did deeply bond with them both, probably Connell a bit more (perhaps because of gender familiarity) but I think that’s a wonderful thing for a writer to accomplish. Now I’ll go and read her first book.
I have a book about the opposite methodology – turning a novel into a script. But I’m not sure a roadmap exists for this what – this expansion, I guess, is what it would be.
I’m in the process now, with a script I wrote a few years ago called “Kept.” The movie I envisioned is a steamy potboiler encompassing the wide diversity of the folks who live out in the Coachella Valley (the Palm Springs, CA area).
I want to elevate the tenor of all this a bit for the novel, so I have to make some small changes which I hope will have a profound effect on the feeling the finished product gives the reader.
Here are some of the things I know I must do, in no particular order. If you’re embarking on a script-to-novel conversion, as many screenwriters seem to be doing these days, hopefully this is helpful:
Go back to your character bios and make them real. I always have written biographies for my main (and often secondary, as well) characters, using Lajos Egri’s “The Art of Dramatic Writing” as a guide (he furnishes an outline to follow). For a novel, it’s imperative that you can live and breathe your characters. In a screenplay, I know I’ve often cheated, using archetypes and gulp, cliches.
Go Back to Your Themes. Before writing a script (or any fictional thing, really) I list out my themes, the overarching ideas I want to have come through the work. The source I use to prod myself is an old copy of Eric Heath’s “Story Plotting Simplified,” which lists and explains the 36 Basic Plots. For “Kept,” Greed, Lust and Nihilism are essential themes. Your themes for a novel will be more internal than those you chose for your screenplay.
Here’s my first attempt at some (like, 100 words) teaser marketing copy for my new novel, The Forest Dark:
“The Forest Dark” is a quirky, family-of-choice drama about Eden and Noah, middle-aged friends who must find a way to reconcile their unresolved past with an unexpectedly strange present.
In 1984, conservative co-ed Eden von Eiff befriends young gay man Noah Baldock during L.A.’s frenetic Summer Olympic Games. Becoming fast and intimate, Noah offers Eden a solution to an enormous problem — which she can’t, in the end, accept.
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Twenty-five years later, these two boomers struggle to come to grips with the choices they made long ago. They must navigate not only a troubled economy and professional failure, but also control a looming and violent threat to their future.
So, the idea is to entice without giving the whole plot away. I wonder if it’s too vague? What does anyone think? Also, how weird does a story have to be called “quirky?” I don’t want anyone to think it’s about, for instance, anyone named Zooey.
Author Trebor Healey was at Skylight Books yesterday to read from both his new novels, which coincidentally have been released around the same time by different publishers. In the video above, he reads from “Faun,” which definitely sounds like a unique (and often really funny) take on teenage wasteland!
His other new novel is “A Horse Named Sorrow,”, concerning a journey, both real and metaphorical, and centering on a great love set during the height of the AIDS epidemic in the early nineties.
Can’t wait to read both!
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I was gone (in San Francisco) for a long weekend. Now I’m back, and, as often happens, I’m finding it (somewhat) hard to get going full-speed again.
These tips may seem obvious, but I know a lot of writers who’ve used them to great effect.
Take classes: even the most seasoned writers can always learn something new. Whether it’s a university, the extension, online or a community center, having a teacher, classmates and assignments with a hard due date is a great way to stay motivated.
Read: One writer I know doesn’t like to read other authors while she’s writing something because she doesn’t want it to “affect her style.” But as a writer, you must read the literature to which you aspire, whether it’s fiction or non. I’m of the opinion that art, or craft, builds on what came before, and nothing springs from nothing.
Use a dictionary/thesaurus: take enough time when writing something to find the absolute perfect word, and believe me, there is one. Online tools have made it extremely easy for modern writers to be perfect spellers with amazing vocabularies.
Ruthlessly edit: Never turn in a first or second draft of something. Take time away from your project to get a fresh feel for it. Ask yourself, is this the best this can possibly be? Trust your instinct on this. If you feel it still could be better, it most certainly can be. Wait a little while and edit again.
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Proofread: There’s nothing that screams “amateur” louder than a manuscript or piece of “printed” material with common, very fixable errors. Sorry, spell check doesn’t quite cut it here. You need to actually read your writing, over and over, to make sure it’s perfect. Even better, hire a professional proofreader (best) or trade this task with another writer (good).
Encourage Constructive Criticism and Really Listen to It: The truth is you’re not writing for yourself, you’re writing for an audience. Feedback on your writing is invaluable for you to gauge how effective your communication is. Sometimes it smarts to hear someone’s subjective take on what you’ve done, but rarely does it result in a worse piece of writing. Tip: get more than one opinion!
Make it a business: Most of us don’t make a living entirely out of our writing efforts, thus finding the time to actually write can be challenging. Solution? Change your mindset, and make it a business. You’ll set regular business hours when you’re at your desk, working on your project, milestones and deadlines, even if they’re only yours. Treat it as you would any job you take seriously.
I have to admit I’ve yet to read William Gay, who is often compared with Cormac McCarthy. What I loved about the commentary was the hope and possibility Gay’s life gives to writers of all stripes, really, but especially those of us who’ve lived huge parts of our lives already and came to serious writing later on:
“Part of the mystique around his life is that, in an era where most fiction writers get a master of fine arts and either teach in the academy or freelance copy-edit in New York City until they break through, Gay spent several decades living his life, hanging drywall and honing his craft, before exploding out of nowhere on the literary scene in his mid-50s.”
The part about the MFA and the freelance copyediting made my spit up my milk, as I’ve asked around about those MFA programs in the past half-year and just recently completed editing someone else’s novel – yes, on a freelance basis!
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How good to know that the cliche way forward is not the only way forward. The truth, I think, is that those MFAs credential one to teach writing at the college level – but this is for writers who need a day job, not for people with a teaching vocation. I’ve also been assured by veteran and (sometimes) bitter educators that those positions are increasingly rare and when they do exist, most do not pay well or have any kind of hoped-for longevity.
On the other hand, there’s always something that needs copyediting.
Back to William Gay:
Sealy says that for him, the dominant emotion Gay’s stories call forth is sympathy – for characters caught in bad situations.
“Sympathy, at times, feels like an anachronism in our modern, me-first world, and the same could be said of Gay himself — that he is a relic from a bygone era. Maybe it was the wisdom that comes from age and lessons hard-learned, or maybe it was that he lived and wrote in rural Tennessee, where the pace perhaps is slower and cellular signals are scarce, but Gay was cut from a different mold.”
I do wonder about that sympathy emotion – are we so insanely driven in our wired and 24/7 connected world to see those threads that should exist among people, even among strangers?
A character in the novel I’m currently writing is a contemporary twentysomething, and he tweets. In the novel. Of course, I’d like to think this form of social media will last, so the book won’t appear dated for at least a little while. But I do like to read things that have a much different pace – and look forward to picking up a book by William Gay.
FICTION: A bit more from the unedited novel-in-progress, The Forest Dark, making use of L.A. location Bourgeois Pig. Hear the traffic. See the arguing baby boomers. It could get ugly:
Noah and Eden sat outside at the Bourgeois Pig tables on Franklin Avenue so she could smoke.
Since she was buying, Eden figured Noah would put up with the traffic noise. He could have ordered anything, but Noah was Noah: a simple coffee, black, with an extra shot of espresso.
He looked around as if it were unfamiliar territory. She assumed he really hadn’t treated himself much, at least in recent years when things had been so tough with money.
“Whenever I’m down here I always try to figure out who the Scientologists are,” he said, looking down the block at several pedestrians.
Eden still fumed inside about Barbara, about Zeke, about Warren fucking Medina and his Louie request.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s their church right across here. I think all these businesses are really shadow corporations of theirs for money laundering and other activities.”
She hadn’t noticed the sign until then: Scientology Celebrity Centre. Maybe he was right. After all, he’s the one who’s lived here the whole time, not her.
“What is wrong with you?” he asked. Continue reading →
Yesterday (Sunday, October 2 2011) was the West Hollywood Book Fair, concurrent with the grand opening of the new (beauteous!) library in West Hollywood Park.
Homo-Centric booth (thanks Hank Henderson!)
Like last year, I was invited to read something at the Homo-Centric tent (thank you Hank Henderson) and was delighted to do so. Also like last year, what I read was from my novel-in-progress, but the same novel-in- progress as a year ago!
attentive listeners to John Boucher
It’s called The Forest Dark, from the Dante quotation pertaining to midlife, about losing our way, about not knowing which way to turn in the dark wood. Apparently, I’m not knowing which way to turn in my dark home office, either, as the damn thing isn’t done.
To my credit, I will say it’s way more done than last year. So there’s been progress. I wish I was a faster writer. Maybe someday. I still contend that the internet has given me a shorter attention span and I have to use helpers like Freedom and Leechblock to get through any quality time on creative writing.
John Boucher
Richard Villegas reading, Hank Henderson second from left
Kyle T. Wilson reading, Richard Villegas on the right
captive audience!
For your enjoyment and perusal, here is the extract of what I read from Forest Dark, as well as some pictures of me and other morning readers (sorry all the rest of you Homo-Centrics, I had to leave early, though I’ve seen plenty of afternoon pix on Facebook):
Jim Arnold reading at West Hollywood Book Fair, 2011
The Novel’s called The Forest Dark. It’s about the relationship of a gay man, Noah, and his straight female friend, Eden, over the course of about 25 years.
At this point in the story they’ve been separated for most of that time — but Eden’s recently returned to LA for a job and they’ve reconnected in their 50s. This piece comes right after Noah takes a new job as a caretaker at Precious Blood, which is a Catholic retreat house owned by some nuns. Eden’s excited about an upcoming reality show taping, and she’s on the phone with him. The selection is told from Noah’s point of view:
START:
Eden had called twice before but he’d ignored her and only picked up on the third try. It was the stress level, he thought, already high from that first presentation group at Precious Blood.
Which went surprisingly well. It had to, as there was no way Noah could afford to lose this job.
“How did it go – your first day, right?” she asked.
He wondered if she was mocking him.
“No bad, not bad,” he said. “They gave me this gray shirt and pants to wear – like in prison.”
She was quiet. He read her quickly: Noah Baldock had shown so much potential, so much ambition when he was younger. This latest development was really just … depressing.
“Will you wear that on Louie’s show?”
He was making the final rounds of the property for the day, not only checking locks but also looking for anything out of order, a possible clue to something more sinister, the real value to his new employer.
“No one’s said anything about it to me one way or the other. Have you been given some wardrobe instructions, Eden?”
From the convent residence above where he stood, he could hear the nuns singing grace before dinner.
“Actually, this woman called me, said I should ‘reflect that New York social circle’ I run with!” She laughed. “I can’t believe we’re going to be on TV with all these kids!”
Noah took the stone steps down from the main level to the back door of his gatehouse. The scarlet bougainvillea on the property was overgrown and he pushed a branch out of the way. A thorn scraped along his forearm, making a nice, wet, red line.
“Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?” Eden asked.
Inside the small apartment, boxes were still stacked against the wall, though the computer on his desk hummed.
“I cut my arm,” he said, grabbing a towel to stanch the bleed.
“You OK?”
In a cialis 20 mg 1997 randomized clinical trial, researchers found that chiropractic is effective on neck pain. Treating Impotence Issue in Men Treatments of impotence issue like erectile dysfunction include psychotherapy, adopting a healthy lifestyle, oral PDE5 inhibitors (including Sildenafil Citrate, Vardenafil, Tadalafil, and Avanafil (Stendra). purchase cheap cialis click for more Even in case, we wish to return the product, we can do it in much hassle viagra prescription uk free. If sildenafil in canada ronaldgreenwaldmd.com you want to make an order for the glucose to be used as energy you need to make sure that your diet is low fat. He squinted at the computer screen where a dot blinked, indicating there was a new message for him. “It’s just a scrape, Eden, I’ll be fine.”
“I can come over. Or, I could call Louie, he’s closer – ”
“I’M FINE!”
* * *
The Precious Blood gatehouse had a door built right into the outer wall, meant for packages and vendors and such, but equally useful for tricks, Noah figured.
He all but hung up on Eden. Noah was as angry with himself as he was with her – after all these years, still falling for her shit, being on the yanking end of that von Eiff chain.
Bitch should’ve stayed in New York, she’ll only fuck up everything Louie’s got going, he thought.
There was a little silver bell hung on the outside of this door, something an old nun would’ve thought heavenly. It rang.
This would be Mockingbird.
The dark-skinned, dark-haired man wore a black t-shirt and black jeans and black, ankle-high boots. The blue, green and yellow of a parrot tattoo on his forearm stood out as the only bit of color.
“Finally,” Noah said, pulling Mockingbird in by the arm so he could shut the door quickly.
“So – this is your new place,” the younger man said, taking it in, a thin smile on his handsome face.
Noah had “met” Mockingbird online, but his constant text-spelling mistakes proved problematic. He’d then run into him for real at the Eagle one night, and those earlier failings were forgotten.
Mockingbird was shorter and rougher; as far as Noah was concerned, the perfect friend with benefits. He didn’t even care if he never found out what his “real” name was, undoubtedly something mundane like Hector or Juan.
“You like it?”
The main floor was all one big room, with the kitchen set off by a sparkly, formica-covered “bar” someone must’ve added in the 1960s. At the far end, next to the bathroom and the door that led to the interior courtyard, was a narrow brick staircase leading up to the loft bedroom.
“It’ll take some getting used to,” Noah said, placing his hand against Mockingbird’s chest, his fingers a lazy circle in search of a nipple. “I was in the old place for almost 30 years.”
Mockingbird grabbed Noah’s forearm and squeezed it, hard. “Don’t remind me, you’re older than my father and I don’t want to think about that.” He twisted it, making Noah gasp. He used his other hand to push Noah’s shoulder down, forcing him to his knees.
Noah knew this script well. He pulled at the younger man’s belt buckle but had only got it part way undone when Mockingbird slapped him across the face.
“Not so fast, old man. You got your bed here somewhere, am I right?”
“It’s upstairs.”
“Sir.”
“It’s upstairs, sir.” His cheek smarted – but this was only the beginning.
Mockingbird pushed Noah up the steps and he tripped.
“Get your ass up there!” Mockingbird lifted him by his belt and shoved him further.
“Quiet, sir, I don’t want to disturb the nuns.”
“Fucking nuns, I’ll show your goddamn nuns!”
Noah could only pray that the hard slaps Mockingbird then delivered, along with his resulting sighs and yelps, got mixed in with traffic noise and the occasional helicopter flyovers. He couldn’t even begin to think what Octavia and her sisters would do if they knew what was going on.
After he let Mockingbird out an hour later, he ran a hot bath in the small tub, while Harry Connick, Jr. played the piano on a CD. Noah’s ass was red from the spanking he got and his butthole sore from Mockingbird’s aggressive fuck.
For once he didn’t care about Jivan or Eden or Louie’s stupid reality show. He sank back into the lilac bubbles and closed his eyes.
* * *
So dear reader, tell me: what do you do to keep the nuns from hearing your sex noises?
Hey folks, just playing around again with the Mac (last time it was iMovie for the Cohen Hallelujah on the piano, to which I totally forgot about costume design, among other things…).
So today it was the podcast capabilities of Garage Band. I elected to do just the audio version, though it’s capable of doing video podcasts as well – as soon as I get a haircut.
I’m reading the opening of the second part of the The Forest Dark, when heroine Eden von Eiff goes back to Los Angeles to face up to some of the wreckage of her past.
Hope you enjoy. The podcast is about two minutes and some change.
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… including me. But hey, yes, I will be there to sign copies of Benediction. There will be an amazing group of writers there, everyone from Armistead Maupin and Felice Picano to Radclyffe, who is also the grand marshal of the parade. Radclyffe is not only a writer but a publisher (and a surgeon!). In a time when GLBT publishing (as well as all traditional publishing) is in a place of decline, her Bold Strokes Books is still out there with its collection.
Come on out to Palm Springs Pride – we got your parade, we got your boys and girls, your palm trees, sparkling pools, mountains, sand. You know the drill. It’s next weekend, Saturday and Sunday, November 6 and 7. We all may need some nurturing down time after Tuesday, to regroup for the good fight. Specifically stating, impotence refers to the trouble spots, monitor them for developing problems, and keep them in good viagra 50 mg condition. As FGIDs can affect any section of the GI tract, the Rome classification system and pharmacy viagra the most recent, Rome IV divides it into esophageal disorders, gastroduodenal disorders, bowel disorders, centrally mediated disorders of gastrointestinal pain, gallbladder, sphincter of Oddi disorders, anorectal disorders, and childhood FGIDs. How generic viagra tadalafil is a man supposed to have the anti-impotency pills that have already been launched in market by the medical experts. Although the condition of http://www.wouroud.com/bitem.php?item=2 viagra no prescription impotence may not suit diabetic men.
If you want to see me, I’ll be at the Authors’ Village from 3 to 4:30 p.m. on Sunday, November 7. It’s at the stadium in Sunrise Park, where the festival takes place both days. I’ll have a pen.
Thanks again to Rick and Craig of Q Trading Co. in Palm Springs for your sponsorship and commitment to GLBT writing and publishing!
Oh and BTW, this is a new location for the blog. The old posts have layouts that are f***ed up with the photos etc. – so I will have to play around with them. I admire your patience.
Normal People by Sally Rooney
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