Category: LSU

I’ll Never Find Another You

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills day has rolled around yet again, which I remembered last night as I finished putting away the groceries. It had slipped my mind, which has been primarily focused lately on being creative. I had a good day yesterday at work, and though I wasn’t tired yesterday, I was oddly sore. I did make groceries after work yesterday, which was not as challenging as it usually feels after work. I came home, put the groceries away, played with Sparky, then sat down to write at the computer.

And I am feeling smug again this morning. Yes, that means I did clock just over three thousand words on New Scotty, and I did it in under two hours! It’s beginning to look a little bit like Gregalicious is back in the groove and back to writing again. And how do I know this is the way it always used to be? Because I am not thinking about writing anything else. I’ve not given a thought to anything other than this book since I decided to try writing another Scotty on Sunday (two days ago? Wow! I’ve already got over six thousand words on this!), and it’s still all I can think about. The plot is forming as I write and I am also thinking ahead about the story, and I really like the direction the story is taking. I’ve also started the book with a body in chapter one, which I don’t think I have ever done before? It’s kind of cool, and I’m actually excited about the book for a change. I don’t think I can actually remember the last time I was excited to write a book is rather telling–either of how miserable I’ve been for so long, or I just don’t remember because my memory is nothing but trash now. (My memory is trash, not my memories are all of trash. Big difference.)

I also added another five hundred or so words to my essay on masculinity.

So, it was a good night last night. We also finished watching Solar Opposites (highly recommended) and then I repaired to the bed. I am still a bit sore this morning–lower back, not entirely sure what is causing that, but it may have to do with my feet and shoes again. I need to make that appointment with the podiatrist. I also need to see a dermatologist, too. I shall do so today during some downtime, methinks. I also don’t really need to pay the bills today–nothing is actually due until the 1st, which is Sunday, I believe. So, that can actually wait. All I really need to do is make those appointments, pick up the mail on the way home, and then I can settle in and do some more writing tonight. I did have a moment of imposter syndrome last night, thinking about the book and what I had written so far. I also dismissed those thoughts rather quickly and easily.

It’s supposed to rain today, with a high of 89; not sure how that’s going to feel and/or work for the day, but everything looks clear outside. It would be great if it rained. The river is low again and there’s a chance that the saltwater is going to start intruding up the river again the way it did last year (which seems like it was a million years ago). There are also two tropical disturbances out there, with the potential to become the late August nightmare hurricanes we’ve gotten so used to around here. I am looking forward to the three day holiday this weekend, and even more delighted to see LSU’s football season start this weekend on Sunday night. It’s Decadence this weekend, and I am not on condom patrol duty this year. This used to be my favorite time of year, actually; I looked forward to it every year and tailored my workouts and so forth in order for my body to peak physically for this weekend. I don’t miss that, honestly, nor do I miss the insecurity it always somehow dredged up before I’d hit the Fruit Loop for the weekend…where I’d forget about being judged for my body and looks and relaxed and had fun. But I definitely remember being worried about how I looked every year before heading to the Quarter for the first time. I do miss being hit on and flirted with, in all honesty; I always enjoyed that, perhaps a little too much. I am not going down there this weekend–too hot, too many people, too old to stand or walk around for long–and plan on having a good writing weekend while also getting some good rest. And reading! My writing time is now overlapping my reading time, but I can read this weekend, can’t I?

And on that note, I am bringing this to a close. Have a wonderful Wednesday, and I rather doubt that I’ll be here later again, but one never knows.

Unchained Melody

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and yesterday was a rather lovely day, in all honesty. I didn’t put any pressure on myself, but did make some progress on the apartment itself. I cleared out two boxes off the top of the cabinets, and know now what the others are–and know they can simply go into the attic once it is cleared out. This means…I am getting to the point where I can start working on the attic. This pleases me enormously, and there’s some other stuff that needs to be done here in the workspace this morning before I make a minor grocery run. We watched this week’s Bad Monkey, which I am loving, and then some more Solar Opposites. I also managed to get a week’s worth of dishes taken care of–I was really lazy and taking advantage of the entire “birthday week” excuse this week, I am a bit red-faced to admit–and reminded myself to never let it get that bad again…which will last probably about a week.

I also watched the Georgia Tech-Florida State game. I simply flipped over to it while looking for a movie to watch (to no avail; nothing sounded good) to see the score, and saw the end of the second half with the score tied 14-14. That intrigued me enough to continue watching, and it turned out to be a rather good game, as Georgia Tech kicked a field goal on the last play of the game to upset #10 Florida State, 24-21. It was a great game–I do sometimes watch college football when I don’t care about either team–made even greater by the upset win for Georgia Tech (I am not a FSU fan), and that kind of got me into the mood for football season. LSU’s first game is this weekend; Sunday evening in Las Vegas, of all places. I have no idea how good LSU is going to be this year–I am not one of those people who reads analysts and so forth and practice reports; they are meaningless really until it’s actually a game and they’re keeping score. I prefer to be surprised, and college football is always full of surprises. I don’t even pay attention to the NFL preseason, either.

I wasn’t a complete sloth yesterday. I did do some things around the house, and looking around this morning, there’s more that needs to be done. I’m not used to having all this free time, which is the primary adjustment I am having to make in the present day…and it’s kind of nice, you know? I still need to figure out how to be more productive, and how to utilize the time, but I worked so hard for so very long and never had a minute’s peace for so long that it’s just kind of nice to not be worried about things anymore. I plan to spend some time this morning straightening up the kitchen again, and picking things up and filing, and I also want to do the floors. I didn’t leave the house yesterday so I have to make that grocery run today (to make dinner tonight I have to go), but that’s not a big deal, really. It’s nice, though, to not be stressed and anxious about not working in my free time.

I even thought about writing projects yesterday. I am really leaning towards shelving Never Kiss a Stranger for now; I realized yesterday it was one of those stupid “stubbornly obsessive” things that I get into my head every once in a while. I remembered yesterday that originally I had intended to finish my novella collection this summer, which meant working on that, and then I realized it was more of a book than a novella, and decided to write that for the summer. And even though I was having trouble with it on almost every level of turning what I already had into a novel, I was stubbornly refusing to shelve it and move on, which was counter-productive. No one cares if I finish that book now or at some other time, or if I never write it at all. So, I am going to put it aside for now and forget about it for a while. It only makes sense to get back into regular writing with a Scotty book, and a Scotty book will be somewhat easier for me to write…and easier for me to get back into the swing of writing again after so much time away from it.

I also realized that the MAGA meltdown over Gus Walz was an excellent way to open my essay “Are You Man Enough?”, and so I did scribble some notes on that yesterday as well. I am actually kind of looking forward to this work week, believe it or not, and I do think getting to work on another Scotty–Hurricane Season Hustle–will be a lot more fun for me going forward.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Screenshot

I Got You Babe

Well, I survived returning back to work yesterday. I really thought I’d have trouble getting up yesterday morning, but I was awake when the alarm went off the first time–and yes, Sparky was a kitty puddle at the foot of the bed who immediately woke and strolled up along the side of the bed for head butts and purring to get me up. I also made it through the day without ever getting tired, and I was sure I would; I woke up several times during the night, and it seemed to always take a while for me to go back to sleep. I did sleep more deeply last night, and I feel pretty good this morning. Which is weird, of course; I shouldn’t feel more rested and better later in the work week, but when have I ever been normal?

I haven’t wanted to be normal in decades. And this particular oddness is something I’ve noticed before.

But overall, yesterday was a pleasant day. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got off work, which I’d been concerned about, and ran my errand and came home to play with Sparky. Paul worked at home yesterday and went to Hoshun to get us dinner (a treat for my birthday, delayed a day) and we watched the convention again last night. The DNC is simply killing it this year, aren’t they? Whoever planned this convention deserves a huge raise. It’s also lovely getting reminders of how good and deep the bench of next generation party leaders actually is. Who do they have? Lauren Boebert, Marjorie Taylor Greene, and Matt Gaetz? Give me Jasmine Crockett, Wes Moore, Josh Shapiro, Andy Beshear, Pete Buttigieg, and Eric Swalwell any day of the week over those fools. I stayed up to watch Governor Walz–and what a wonderful, amazing, normal family he has, and how much do they all love each other? I know Vance’s biracial children have been completely moved by how their dad has defended their mom–oops, never mind.

And tonight the Vice-President will accept the nomination, and I can’t wait to watch.

The humidity has broken here for a few days; we’re having an unusual cold spell which will result in lots of storms all week next week, and then…it’s Labor Day weekend and college football starts. LSU plays USC in Las Vegas that weekend on Sunday night, and I don’t know if I’m ready for another college football season this soon. I don’t think we’ll be going to any games this year, alas, but that’s okay. No one is really sure how good LSU will or won’t be this year, but most seem to be cautiously optimistic. The schedule is rough this year, too. Two of the non-conference games are USC and UCLA, and I think they play both Texas and Oklahoma this year in addition to the usual SEC meat grinder–although Auburn and Mississippi State have come off the schedule. (Note to self: print the schedule and put it on the fridge; same with the Saints. Sigh. I can’t believe it’s already football season! But I am ready for fall weather–or what passes for it around here, LOL.)

I managed to book an eye appointment for a Saturday in September, and yes, I booked it during the scheduled game that day, at South Carolina. Which is fine, actually; I don’t mind driving out to Metairie in the morning, and I can always get something to eat out there that I usually don’t have access to–which is even better. I probably should stop and make groceries tonight–we need a few things–and I also need to get gas as well. I keep forgetting I need to get gas every night this week on my way home, and if I’m not careful I’m going to wind up stranded on the side of the road somewhere. (Not the end of the world; my insurance has roadside service so I’d just have to wait for someone to bring me some gas so I can get to a station–but this is something I’d have had anxiety about before the new medications, and boy do I not miss the anxiety!) Note to self: get gas on the way home tonight.

I’m working at home tomorrow, so I get to sleep a little later than usual (if His Royal Highness Sparky will allow it–he will most likely not), and of course, I have some chores to get done this weekend. I ordered new kitchen towels for my birthday, which delights me to no end, and I am thinking about upgrading some other things around the house. I also need to clear out some more books and get the boxes down from on top of the cabinets, and maybe even start on the boxes in the attic. Whoa, Nelly, slow down; you’re feeling awfully ambitious this morning (it’s the coffee, no doubt) and by this afternoon you won’t feel like doing anything at all when you get home. There’s a load of dishes in the dishwasher to run, and there’s also some laundry to finish, too. It truly never ends!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have an awesome Thursday, and I may be back later. I’m tricky that way.

Help!

Wednesday and it’s Pay the Bills Day again! Woo-hoo! I didn’t sleep through the night–getting up a couple of times, but I feel rested and fine this morning. Go figure. I hit a wall again yesterday afternoon, and was very tired when I got home last night. I did have my Sparky time, collapsing into my easy chair and getting caught up on the news; he expects this time now, because I’ve trained him to expect that after I get home and he gets fed–just like he tries to wake me up every morning at six on the days I don’t have to get up. Friday I have to go to Quest to get labs drawn at seven in the morning, and I also have a department meeting that morning as well, so I’ll roll out of bed and stumble, bleary-eyed, to Quest, then come back home and swill coffee and get cleaned up to head into the office (since I am already there, I am just going to do my hours at the office rather than coming back home to do work-at-home duties.

We started watching The Decameron last night before giving up after the second episode. It’s a great idea and I love that they made a show about one of the great classics of history, but it just doesn’t really deliver completely. There were some great moments, and it might get better, and I also see why they made it; a bubonic plague show, after the pandemic? But it just wasn’t engaging in the way I would have preferred, so we watched an episode of Evil, which we’d been watching before the Olympics and had forgotten about. But it’s kind of a fun show–a religious X-Files, basically–and it’s engaging.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own work–probably because I’m not really doing any of it at the moment–and why I write it and what can I do about the dumpster fire the world is turning into. I’ve mentioned here several times how much I wished we had a Louisiana John D. MacDonald type writer, addressing the exploitation of Florida and the environmental damage that exploitation hath wrought on the state (Condominium is a great book about greedy developers and corrupt politicians), and originally I always was thinking someone else would be better to do it than me. But…that’s really laziness on my part, because studying the ecological disaster Louisiana has become (with no bottom to the disaster in sight, especially given what we have in Baton Rouge now) was a lot of work. I’ve always wanted to address the situation in Cancer Alley1, which is a stain on the nation. Those communities are mostly black and completely poor, so you can imagine how much our politicians–including those representing those parishes–care about them. It is a disgrace.

And that’s not even taking into consideration the erosion of the wetlands, making Louisiana at even higher risk of disaster during hurricane season (which we are in right now).

And given what we are dealing with in terms of political leadership these days (Project 2025 is already here), someone needs to start talking about this stuff.

Why not me? Although I suppose it would mean resubscribing to the MAGA Times-Picayune again, which totally sucks. Heavy heaving sigh. Can anyone be a local crime writer without reading the local paper? Probably not, so I might as well bite the damned bullet and get back on that train at some point. I hate having to compromise my principles. But I also don’t have to enjoy it, do it? And with football season on the horizon, sigh. Their coverage of LSU, Tulane2, and the Saints is really the best. Sigh. I’ll just donate the same amount to the Harris campaign.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; stranger things have happened.

  1. “Cancer Alley” is the eighty-two mile section of the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, with a ridiculous amount of petrochemical plants and refineries in the poorer parishes, where the rate of cancer is insanely high and everyone knows it’s the factories poisoning everyone, but no one ever does anything about it. It is Louisiana’s shame, frankly. ↩︎
  2. See, Ellen? I don’t always forget Tulane. ↩︎

I Wanna Be Free

Saturday morning and here we are, looking forward to another good day at the Lost Apartment, huzzah! Sparky got me up for food at six thirty, but joined me when I returned to bed (after licking his bowls clean) and cuddled with me another hour or so. He really is a dear, even if he turns into a vicious apex predator terror every once in a while. I’ve not seen any bugs or vermin in the house since we acquired him and brought him home either, so I can deal with the vicious apex predator terror for the short while that mood lasts.

I was thinking yesterday as I cleaned up around the kitchen and waited for Paul to get up (I never wake him up unless I know he has to be somewhere), and as a marvelous thunderstorm moved in, that my Substack hasn’t grown much but I also am not actively trying to grow it, to be honest. It’s free, just like the blog, but what I really want to do with the Substack is make it more essays about stuff that no one will ever ask me to write (or not for pay, at any rate), and leave the more personal stuff here and here only. That way, if you just want essays about queer life, history, culture, books, movies and television shows etc. you can subscribe to the Substack and skip the every day here. If you can’t get enough of me, you can do both or you can just stay here. I may eventually get to the point where those essays no longer get posted here…but that will have to wait until the subscribers make complete separation of self worthwhile. I was also thinking yesterday as the sky darkened and the winds picked up, that all of this new free time I am enjoying so much can also be used for productivity–if I can get back to the point where I’m writing 500-5000 words per day again, then this extra time can be utilized for marketing and teaching myself how to work my website and get it all finished and updated. I also am going to start learning how to do more promotion and format ebooks, too, so I can eventually get to the point where I can do my own ebooks. It would be cool to put up a short story or a novella here and there whenever I feel like it, for free–yes, I know my work has value and worth, but every so often it would be fun to gift readers who like my writing with something free every once and a while, you know, as a thank you for sticking with me all these lengthy years.

I also wrote for a whole yesterday, which felt great. I got about a thousand or so words done, which felt great, and I was most pleased with myself for doing so. I also came up with an idea for yet another book that sounds rather interesting and might be fun to explore thematically; I certainly wrote down a shit ton of notes and ideas and riffs in my journal last night, and I have to say I am really enjoying my journal these days. I also managed to get my review essay of Liebestraße finished yesterday, which felt great, and I hope to get some more of those done over the course of the weekend. Yesterday was, overall, a very good day that I got through without much irritation or aggravation, so I will take that. I do have more errands to run today–we ended up skipping Costco, so we have to do that today–and I hope to have some time to read and write later on after I finish everything.

Today is also our anniversary; twenty-nine years today we’ve been together. Almost thirty years, and almost half of my life. We’re going to watch some movies tonight, and we’re going to have a nice little dinner here at home to celebrate. Next year will be thirty years, and in ten days we’ll have lived here in New Orleans twenty-eight years, too. New Orleans was the key to all of my dreams coming true. I wish I would have been less anxious and more confident when I was a teenager, and if I knew then what I know now, I would have gone to college at LSU and moved to New Orleans after graduation, and maybe gotten a master’s in creative writing at the University of New Orleans. My life would be completely different now–I probably would have left New Orleans at some point rather than staying here my entire life, but there’s no use in speculating over that sort of thing–especially since I am settled and extremely happy.

We finished the seasons of The Acolyte and The Boys (which is coming hard for MAGA and I am so here for it; the season finale especially was rather pointed) last night and also watched this week’s The Serpent Queen, which is very well done, but most of the drama for the rest of her life now was political; and I don’t know how the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre is going to play out in the show. There are already inaccuracies in the speeded up timeline; Princess Elisabeth was long married to the King of Spain by the time Charles IX was old enough to be depicted as an adult. I try not to get heavily involved in complaining about inaccuracies in historical shows–they are always rotten with them, but I love watching historicals far too much to stop watching them now because they twist history to fit their storytelling purposes…and this is a period of history I am very interested in. Thank you, cable channels, for committing to doing shows set in historical times I love (like Mary and George). I know there’s a television series based on The Three Musketeers, but it’s very hard for me to watch any adaptation of that after loving the 1970s film versions with (sigh) Michael York (who is an incredibly nice man).

There was a lot of open homosexuality at the royal courts of England and France during this time period, even more so in France rather than England. I’ve always wanted to write about Louis XIV’s brother, Monsieur le duc d’Orléans, who often donned women’s clothing to attend court functions and had a long time lover the Chevalier de Lorraine1 (both were depicted beautifully in the series Versailles, which I also loved). Maybe when I’ve retired I can delve into writing more historicals. I also have an idea for a short story that is a historical; another Sherlock story from 1916, which I am hoping to get started this weekend as well. This morning I am going to do some clean-up around the kitchen before doing some writing and cleaning myself up to go run my errands. I also really still want to write my book about the women in power of the 16th century, too. I suppose it could be called The Monstrous Regiment of Women, but I suppose it could also be called When Women Ruled the World.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for now. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

  1. The Chevalier started a society of homosexuals at the court of Louis XIV, which I would also like to research some more. ↩︎

You Are Everything

Tuesday morning and trying to get awake fully; my mind is awake and my body is, but I still feel a bit groggy. I slept well, which was absolutely lovely, and am sitting here swilling coffee and getting mentally prepared to face the day. I have to run errands tonight after work (prescriptions, mail, gym), and then I am going to come home and just chill for the evening, maybe do a little writing. I didn’t do any last night, because I wanted to watch the regional final (LSU lost in extra innings to the fourth ranked team in the country and could have won), after which I didn’t do much of anything just puttered around the kitchen doing chores until it was time for bed.

The LSU loss was disappointing, of course, but the Tigers made a helluva run in the post season. Just three weeks ago, no one thought they’d even make the post season, let alone get to a regional final. But then they had their amazing run in the SEC tournament, eliminating top ten teams left and right before giving Tennessee a run for their money in the final. So, well done, guys! Sure, another world series run would have been fun this year, but not having one does in no way diminish or undermine how magical last season was, or make it any less wonderful to remember. GEAUX TIGERS, and we’ll see you again next spring….and now it’s time to start gearing up for football season, which isn’t that far off. Woo-hoo!

I’ve been posting my Gay Moments in Greg’s Life entries, which has been kind of fun doing. Right now, I have several drafts in progress about dancing in gay bars, circuit parties, and body culture–which all will be interesting to write–and of course at some point I will probably write about HIV/AIDS. I enjoyed writing my Pride entry and the ones about The Other and Starsky and Hutch; probably will do Robby Benson, Playgirl, and Gordon Merrick at some point, too. I also will probably do some others, but right now I can’t think of what they might be. I’ve also started posting these longer form posts to Substack, too–if you’re reading them here, I don’t imagine there’s any need to read them there–but I think I need to start building up things; I don’t know if social media numbers or Substack followers or anything like that will matter in the long run in publishing. No one ever really knows what publishers are looking for or want; their criteria is ever changing but what isn’t is that the accountants also have their thumb on the scale. It is to my everlasting disappointment that my career started right when the industry began to substantially change from what it had been since the Depression to the disheveled mess it is now. At any rate, I think Substack is the place for me to post my personal essays, which is much easier than trying to find a place to publish any of them. Set a goal of perhaps one per week after the Great Moments in Greg’s Gay Life, or my pride celebratory posts are completed.

Something to consider, any way.

I know Substack is evil, but isn’t everything nowadays? The glory days of social media are, I think, finally past us; Twitter (fuck you, Musk) and Facebook aren’t nearly as much fun as they were over a decade ago, and kind of feel like some pointless obligation and reflex activity that really isn’t what’s cracked up to be anymore. It never really was, to be honest, and it was a horrible waste of time more than anything else, really. It also creates a bizarre illusory reality that bares no resemblance to real life. How many times have I been excited to meet someone because we’ve had a lot of fun interactions on-line, only for them to be like “who are you?” I noticed this early on, back in the days of Livejournal’s heyday when everyone blogged (and here I am, twenty years later–this blog will turn 20 on 12/26/24); you don’t really know someone from on-line social media interactions, and you’re certainly not friends. Needless to say, it was a learning experience (I never have really understood friendship, in all honesty; what I think it is clearly is not what other people think it is, and maybe that’s a me problem–which is why I always have so many walls I can withdraw behind, so many masks I can slip on; when you grow up queer in a homophobic society, you develop lots of coping mechanisms), and I always now just say “we know each other on-line” instead of “oh I love her! We’re friends”.

Now that social media has turned into what it is, I am not on it as much and…I don’t really miss it? And it’s very noticeable how much time I used to waste on it.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely Tuesday and who knows? I may be back later.

Baby Blue

Monday morning, and back up before dawn to get ready to head into the office. Huzzah! I slept really well last night, and had no trouble getting up this morning, which I was a bit concerned about given how much sleep I was getting over the weekend. But I feel awake and conscious and good this morning, so that’s very promising.

LSU won both games yesterday (13-6 over Wofford; 8-4 over North Carolina) which puts them in the regional final, winner take all. I flipped between the games and whatever we were watching yesterday (we finished Anthracite, and caught up on Interview with the Vampire), which was nerve-wracking as always whenever LSU plays (I don’t stress or get anxiety over the games anymore–thank you, new meds–so I can enjoy it more, but yesterday I couldn’t bear the tension). I”m not entirely sure I am going to watch tonight’s game, either; I guess it depends on when it is. I also spent some time yesterday reading (The Rival Queens) and writing. I managed to get two or three blog entries posted yesterday, too, and I like that I am doing this “Great Gay Moments in Greg’s Life” type thing. I did Starsky and Hutch and an overall, general “meaning of Pride” post, and I feel pretty good about both of those this morning. I also worked on the prologue to The Summer of Lost Boys, which I will try to get more work done on that today.

The weekend was good, to be honest; I felt good all weekend (if lazy–the thunderstorms had something to do with that, and yes, we had them yesterday too), and while I didn’t get everything done that I would have liked to, I’m pretty okay with it. Today is forecast to be cloudy but without rain, which hopefully will make it cooler–or at least not feel as hot. I spent most of yesterday under my blanket in a chair, which was marvelous. When Sparky wasn’t being Demon Kitty he would sleep in my lap, which was very sweet. It won’t take me long to catch up on my emails, either–I’m doing a pretty good job of staying on top of those, too–and I’m pretty much caught up on my day job duties, too. I’m behind already on the writing schedule I set for myself this year–but the beauty of that is that it’s my deadlines, and no one else’s, so missing them isn’t affecting anyone other than myself.

I also scribbled in my journal a lot this weekend, which is very cool to be doing again. Overall, I am feeling good again these days, which is great. I’m starting to feel connected to my writing again, and remembering that I don’t have to kill myself to get some done is not a bad thing, either.

This morning’s coffee is quite tasty, too, I might add.

All right, it’s time for me to get cleaned up and head into the office. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll most likely be back later. If not, GEAUX TIGERS!

Bongo Rock

Today is two things–the start of hurricane season and the start of Pride Month. I have a Pride post that I definitely want to finish and post at some point, and I’ve not really decided what kind of entries I want to do–social media and here–to mark the month. I still think the thirty-four convictions of Greg Stillson was the best gift for Pride American queers have ever been given, to be honest, and I still am a little in shock that it happened–trial and verdict. And of course the traitors have all lost their treasonous little minds, too–my personal favorite is “if they can do this to him they can do it to anyone!”

Um yes, that’s precisely how laws and the judicial system work–no one is above the law in the United States.

Period.

I way overslept this morning, but we stayed up super late last night watching Bodkin (we only have two episodes left to go, and it’s really interesting; much more complex and clever than I’d originally given it credit for) but I wound up not getting into bed until midnight, and I didn’t get up until about nine thirty this morning. While I wanted to sleep in, I didn’t want to sleep in that late; I feel discombobulated and like I won’t be able to get the things done this morning I wanted to get done–but that’s just loser talk, methinks, and a way to give myself excuses for not taking the books to the library sale or washing the car or picking up the mail and dry cleaning or go to the gym. But now that my coffee is kicking in, I’m feeling more alive and awake and like fuck yeah I can get that shit done, get out of my way.

Always nice.

Yesterday was a good day. I worked at home, got all that done while laundering the bed linens, and ran my errands, did some cleaning around the house and later in the day we had a massive and marvelous thunderstorm. I grabbed The Rival Queens (my current nonfiction read) and spent some marvelous time with it in my easy chair. I do love that period of time, and I’ve always wanted to write about an adventurous fictional woman who was a member of Catherine de Medici’s Flying Squadron; an accomplished seductress spy, navigating the complicated politics of France during the Wars of Religion and the decline of the Valois dynasty. It was truly a fascinating period, not only in France, but throughout Europe. My next non-fiction read will probably be The King’s Assassin, the book on which Mary & George was based, and that’s another fun period I would like to write about. Someday. There really was nothing like the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries for upheaval and Game of Thrones-like cutthroat politics.

I also watched LSU’s thrilling baseball win over Wofford in the regionals yesterday, and they play again today at 4. GEAUX TIGERS!

I also looked at the submissions call for the story I am working on–thinking the deadline was May 31 only to discover it was actually June 1, which means I can let the story sit a while longer before revising it one more time to see if I can make it stronger. I am very pleased with how it’s going so far, and looking forward to getting some more writing done today. I am a little behind on my schedule thus far (the one I made earlier this week, remember?), but the deadline being later certainly has made that a bit simpler and easier to navigate without feeling pressure.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. I’ll most likely be back later–that pride entry I want to write–and I also need to think about what kind of entries to do for Pride Month. Anyway, have a lovely Saturday, and I’ll check in with you again later, okay?

Seven Bridges Road

And now we come to the last (so far) Chanse novel, lucky number seven.

Took me awhile to get here, didn’t it? But it also took me awhile to get around to writing the seventh Chanse book. I worried a lot about this series as it developed–mainly because my original plan had derailed, and I never really sat down and mapped out the rest of the series with the new calibrations, so I was flying by the seat of my pants for the last two books, and in retrospect that sense that the series was going stale was a direct result of that fly by the seat of my pants style, which never worked for Chanse. So, essentially I’d forgotten how to write the series, and so…when I was running into problems with the seventh, it was easy enough to believe I was out of story for him and the series itself was becoming repetitive and stale. I’ve come up with more story for him since then–I’ve written a Chanse short story and started a novella, and had an idea for another entire book, so maybe I will revisit Chanse again in the next few years?

I had always thought of the series as lasting for seven novels, and when I sat down to come up with ideas for the seventh book, I started thinking about ending the series. The Chanse series, as you may have noticed once you’ve read these entries, almost ended every single time I published one–and by this time I felt like I was running out of ideas for him, and felt like I was writing by the numbers; following the same story beats and patterns I had already established in earlier books rather than pushing myself. I also worried that if I kept writing something I felt was getting stale, the book quality would also start to slip. I never wanted to be one of those authors who just keep writing the same old series long past its expiration date. Yes, they always sold well and yes, the income was nice…but…-and I began thinking that I may need to end the series before the readers began to notice the stories were starting to fall into a recognizable pattern; certainly the stories were beginning to have the same beats repeated, over and over. I wasn’t happy to not write another Chanse book, after all; Chanse really launched my publishing career and the series was very good to me over the years–but I felt it was the right decision for the time.

The electronic gate began rolling to the left with a loud clamor.

I closed the driver’s side window of my “billet silver” Jeep Cherokee, shivering. I turned the heater back up to high. I was cold even though I was wearing my black trench coat and a black knit Saints cap. It was in the low thirties. The sky was gray and covered with clouds, the air the kind of chilly damp that goes right to your joints. Last night there had been a freeze warning for all of southeastern Louisiana, so I’d had to turn all my faucets on to a trickle all night to keep the exposed pipes under my house from freezing. The grass on either side of the paved driveway had turned brown, and in the rearview mirror I could see the grass on the levee on the other side of the road behind me had as well.

This cold snap had every New Orleans weathercaster worked up into the kind of energetic, wide-eyed frenzy they usually reserved for hurricane season. The possibility of snow either tonight or sometime tomorrow had them practically drooling. The one currently breathlessly going on and on about how we all needed to bring inside all pants and pets inside before sunset was getting on my nerves, so I turned the radio off. It had snowed maybe three times in all my years of living in New Orleans. Those rare, occasional snowstorms always brought the city to its knees. Businesses closed, people holed up in their homes afraid to drive anywhere, and nothing got done.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as the gate lumbered open slowly. My lower back was starting to ache, which wasn’t a good sign. I pressed the button on the steering wheel thatcontrolled the heater in the driver’s seat. Heat always seemed to help with the pain, but taking a pain pill wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted my brain to be functional when meeting a pair of prospective new clients, anyway.

Finakky, the gate was open wide enough for me to drive through, and I pushed the gas pedal down.

With the big metal gate open, I could see the house. In spite of myself I gasped. I’d seen Belle Riviere depicted many times on postcards, but the reality took my breath away.

The Arts District has always been in my neighborhood (sort of); it’s just on the other side of Highway 90 on Camp, with the nexus being I guess Camp and Julia Street. The Ogden Museum of Southern Art is across the street from the Community Arts Center, the Arthur Roger Gallery is there, and there are any number of smaller galleries scattered throughout the area, which is why White Linen Night is held there. I had thought about setting the case during White Linen, but…it’s so miserably hot. The last time I went, in the 1990’s, I literally thought I was going to have heat stroke–and I’ve never gone again. Writing about it would mean going again, and there was just no way I was going to do that.

The plot was actually brought to me by way of a friend who knew one of the people involved in the real life case; which I found fascinating. My friend’s friend was one of those effortlessly sexy and beautiful men; the kind everyone’s eyes turn to when he walks into the room, and being one of those, he landed a very wealthy partner more than double his age. (Yes, I know, age-gap relationships are real, but doesn’t everyone assume the younger, pretty one in these types of relationships are in it for the money?) Anyway, the story was they had been robbed, and the burglars had stolen some of their art. They reported it to the police, but the police didn’t believe their story, and thought they were committing insurance fraud!

This was very bizarre to me, but it centered on art and galleries, which is why I wanted to do with this book, and so I thought, I can make this work. I used the same basic premise–age-gap gay relationship; older guy is wealthy, younger has sordid past; art stolen and the cops don’t believe their story so they hire Chanse. I also wanted to get into how Chanse–a former college football player and a long time gym regular–was aging, and the aches and pains. He had a back injury from a car accident, and it was still bothering him in this book. He also was still dating the guy he met in a previous case–Rachel Sheehan’s younger brother–but I wasn’t sure where that was going so edited a lot of it out.

And when I finished writing it, I still thought that was a little too paint-by-the-numbers and not enough of a challenge to write–so maybe it’s time to give him a break, and that’s what I did. I do think the novella I want to write is more of a novel, really; and I like the idea and I also have another. So who knows? Chanse may be coming back at some point.

And I am not dissing the book–I’m proud of it, and think it’s one of the better Chanse books, for that matter.

Kissin’ Time

Ah, the Tuesday after Memorial Day and back to the office with me. Such an exciting life I lead, don’t I? I didn’t sleep all that great last night, to be honest–the kind of half-sleep/sort of awake kind of nights, which I didn’t quite understand until I came downstairs to find my sleeping pill (Trazodone, if you’re keeping track) sitting next to my keyboard, where I left it last night. Mystery solved!

But as I wake up, I’m feeling better–more alive and awake than usual, but I imagine I’ll be running out of steam later this afternoon. LSU is in the Chapel Hill regional for the NCAA baseball tournament, playing Wofford. GEAUX TIGERS! I did do some other things yesterday, including finishing the dishes and laundry, and doing the floors. I think I need a new vacuum cleaner (I saw a meme the other day that said “now that I’m an adult I understand why so many prizes on the The Price is Right were appliances”, and yes, very accurate). I didn’t work on fixing the garbage disposal or get out the vacuum handbook for maintenance help this weekend, but it’s something that can go on the list for this coming weekend. I won’t have as many errands to do next weekend, if I plan properly; although I will need to go to the library to donate books.

I also managed to make it to the gym yesterday to start the arm-rehabilitation process again. I went back to the light-weight-one-set thing, worried about overdoing or re-injuring (my biggest fear, seriously) my arm…which seemed easy-peasy, but we’ll have to see if stiffness or soreness sets in any time today. But the stretching and exercise felt great, and I was on an endorphin high for the rest of the afternoon, which was pretty fucking amazing. We’ll see how long I can keep this up for…I am looking forward to re-acclimating and getting back into a regular workout routine by mid-summer. Huzzah!

I read Michael Thomas Ford’s story in the queer horror anthology We Mostly Come Out at Night, edited by Rob Costello. Ford’s story is called “Be Not Afraid”, which is what I recognized immediately as what angels say in the Bible when they appear before humans to bring them messages from God, and I love some Biblical based horror. But even better–it was a Mothman rural West Virginia story, set at Christmas, and what a delightful story it turned out to be. Ford is a master at voice, and writing sentences that make you keep reading on to see what happens next. His characters are likable and relatable and absolutely real, and it’s always delightful to read one of his stories–he always seems to write about people who are lost and become found, but not in a Christian way, if that makes sense; he writes lovely hopeful queer stories. In a just world he’d be more successful than most other authors…he’s one of those I think will be studied as a queer literary giant by future generations. He also always can do poverty in a way that isn’t moralistic or judgmental; you understand the characters and what they are experiencing, but not in an exploitative way. Highly recommended, and I am looking forward to reading the other stories in the book, too.

I wrote for a little while yesterday, too. I worked on something I’ve been thinking about over the weeks–The Summer of Lost Boys, which I think is going to be my next book, once I finish the current in-progress one–and I also did some brainstorming on the next Scotty book, which I am hoping to finish writing by Labor Day. It felt good to be writing again, even if it was so very little, and I think my creativity is coming back in a major way after being dormant for so long. It feels good when I write. The writing I did yesterday didn’t feel like it was garbage or anything, either. Here’s hoping that feeling continues, shall we?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and no doubt I’ll be back later–I am definitely making progress on catching up on blog entries, which is terrific–and so I bid you adieu for now.