Tag Archives: gay fiction

Angels vs. Vampires

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My work-in-progress is about gay men and angels, and lately I’ve been worried.  This probably happens to every writer:  as you near the homestretch, you start noticing all the recently released books or movies similar to your story and panic that they’re going to cancel out the unique appeal of your novel.  On the other hand, hitting on a trend could be a very good thing for a debut title.  This has certainly been the case with vampire stories.

I don’t read vampire stories so I cast no judgment on them.  Something about vampires clearly taps into our collective unconscious, and there have always been plenty of vampire stories around.  But since Twilight’s success, bookstores have set up entire sections for this fantasy sub-genre.  Like I said, I haven’t picked up one of them, but some of them have some pretty enticing cover art.  And vampire movies are coming out like every other month.  The latest Daybreakers I just might go see.

Some people say the vampire trend is going cold.  Some people said that a year or two years ago.  The bubble has to burst at some point I guess just like the real estate market in the new millennium.

Vampires have infiltrated the gay fiction market as well.  A search on Amazon pulls up pages and pages of gay vampire novels, erotic and otherwise, all released in the past three years.  The only gay vampire book I read, back in the ’90’s, was Vampires Anonymous by Jeffrey McMahan. It was really good.

Angels seem to have a quieter following.  There’s the inspirational and melodramatic stuff out there, but no mainstream angel franchise that I can think of in terms of books and no angel fiction display case at my local Barnes and Noble.  Maybe they’re too sacred to exploit as a fantasy series.  Maybe people prefer to read about angels within the sanctity of the Bible.  Maybe this is why I was drawn to the subject as an excellent target for subversion.  But lately, there’s been a bunch of angel novels in the new release section of the bookstore.  Anne Rice’s Angel Time is out as part of her new Songs of the Seraphim trilogy, and YA author Lauren Kate has the angel-inspired series Fallen.  Plus film-wise, there’s the big budget Legion and James Cameron is working on a blockbuster based on the manga Battle Angel.

This shouldn’t worry me too much, I tell myself.  My story is equal parts contemporary gay issues and angel legend.  It doesn’t feature badass angels wreaking havoc or fighting an epic battle of good versus evil, and it’s not about a teenage girl drawn into the tortured, sexy world of angel boys.  And even though my story touches on the familiar themes of transcending adversity through faith, mercy and divine intervention, it’s not going to get the Pope’s seal of approval.  In fact, I’d be madly delighted if the Pope condemned it as the most heretical piece of literature since Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses.

I guess I’m just worried that by the time I finish my book (3 months off by my most optimistic calculation), agents and publishers will have declared the angel trend come and gone.  The anxiety pushes me along.  Maybe I’ll get the final 50 pages done by April.

In The Zone

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Just a brief post this week to say my novel is moving along nicely.   I busted out 16 pages in one week!!  Over 59K words.  I’m into the new stuff – the final section of the story.  This is the magical time when I go to bed with characters and scenes buzzing around my head, and I wake up energized to write some more.

It can also be a time of self-delusion.  But there’s an expression among writers:  “Give yourself permission to write crap.”  It means to let the creativity flow, unfettered by expectations, and always looking forward, never back.  That’s the attitude I’m taking.  There’ll be time for editing and rewrites.  But right now, I’m happy with this project and happy with myself.

Reading update:  I finished Felice Picano’s LIKE PEOPLE IN HISTORY.  Great stuff – I’m putting him a notch ahead of Andrew Holleran, a notch below Neil Bartlett.  And I just finished Scott Heim’s WE DISAPPEAR.  Even greater stuff.  This guy knows how to craft a story, sustain a mood and put out extraordinary lyrical passages.

Angels

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Those who have been following my weekly musings know that my work-in-progress concerns angels.  Lately, I can’t escape them.  They’re on top of Christmas trees, twinkling in TV commercials and invoked on evening news stories about good deeds during the holidays.  WHEN THE FALLEN ANGELS FLY could be considered a new take on It’s A Wonderful Life, far-derived, I think.  But it’s hard to write about angels without lapsing into Christmas associations.  It should be a perfect time to complete this project.  Even for an atheist like me.

I do maintain a foggy sort of spirituality.  I believe in the goodness of people and figure that goodness counts for something in this world or beyond.  What it counts for – karma or a higher state of enlightenment, I’m not sure.

Anyway, I’ve been moving through my manuscript a little faster.  Now I have a deadline:  I have to get the second section of the novel to my writers group by December 21st.  This will happen.  I’ve only got about twenty pages to re-read and edit.  Right now, Richard is preparing written testimony for the arraignment of James Hartsdale, a guy wrongly accused of Richard’s murder.

The book is more about angels with a lower case “a.”  There’s fantasy elements for sure, but what inspired me most is the randomness of everyday life, the tragedies and miracles that hit from out of nowhere and how people associate these things with otherwordly phenomenon.  I think we’re all capable of being “angels” (as well as “demons”).  I meet an angel just about every day.  The woman who holds the door open when my arms are full with shopping bags.  The co-worker who brings me an iced coffee even when I haven’t asked for it.  The cleaning lady who folds the toilet paper roll into a little triangle so that I can fantasize that I’m living in a luxury hotel.  So yeah, I’ve caught the holiday cheer bug, and this post is approximating mushiness.  It’s the angels on the brain and what the concept entails:  love, good will, believing in the impossible.

Rewrite redux

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Well friends, I’m back to the rewrite blues.  I spent the past week reworking the middle section of Part II (WHEN THE FALLEN ANGELS FLY), and I’m still trying to grasp the right plot point, construct the scene, tincture the perfect blend of show and tell.  Romance is brewing between Richard and Rafi, you see.  I was trying to leave that storyline alone, but it opens up so many possibilities.  It’s irresistible.  Yet excruciating.  I guess I could take that as a good sign.  Psychoanalytically, you could say I’m experiencing countertransference to my characters, tapping into what it’s like when you first feel the stirrings of attraction.

I’ve heard other writers say:  “If only my main character would tell me what to do!!”  I want Richard Carroll to explain himself.  Guide me through this thing between him and Rafi.  Let me know what it’s like to feel love afer everything he’s been through.  But Richard wears it close to the vest.  At least with me.  Maybe we’re having our own lover’s quarrel.  I ask myself:  “What did I do wrong?”  Have I mischaracterized him?  Taken him places where he didn’t want to go?  Heroes are tricky people.  They need constant reassurance, ego stroking, the right lighting to show off their best sides, shade when they crave privacy.  And they get grumpy when they’re misunderstood.

So what do I do?  I’m at the point where I’m about ready to leave this part of the story, move on and see what kind of trajectory I’ve established from giving Richard and Rafi some momentum.  Very physics-like, this writing thing, and it’s a process that can only be mastered by trial and error.  Richard is going to have to understand:  I may not always treat you right, but no one can love you like I do.

Meanwhile, I decided to catch up on some gay classics.  I tore through Neil Bartlett’s Ready to Catch Him Should He Fall and started Andrew Holleran’s Dancer from the Dance.  Dated stuff, I know.  But I feel like I need some reference points for my novel, the great American gay novel, I delude myself.

Funny, I tried to read both books years ago and couldn’t get into them.  In my twenties, I was a bit intolerant.  I couldn’t take a story seriously if it was about the archetypical “gay scene” – sex, drugs and cattiness.  I wanted to read stuff that reflected my own life or, alternatively, stories that took me out of reality completely.  Now, my mind has opened up, I think.  Bartlett’s story is full of gay cliche’s – tragic aging queens, sexual objectification (one of the main characters is simply called ‘Boy’) and grown men weeping at piano bars.  But beneath this rather uninspiring though perfectly believable scene (the book is set in early 1980’s London), there’s an engrossing love story between two men described in beautifully-written, sometimes shocking passages.  It’s sexy and sometimes challenging.  I’m still sorting out how I feel about the violence in the main characters’ relationship.  But it’s a book I would highly recommend.