it was a dark and stormy night...

[thoreau]

well - I received my sales report from the publisher since the book was released May 1. It's sold 535 copies! Wow! that's past my expectations by nearly twice! I could not be happier! I have done silly math all morning like - nearly 40 copies a week - or 5 copies a day. I know that a lot of my sales have been from folks here on Live Journal - and I'm eternally grateful! I makes me VERY happy to see the book launching this successfully.

Now I'm working on getting into strategic locations and periodicals - so that when booksellers and LGBT readers are getting ready for Christmas 2007 - they know just what hardback to be putting underneath the tree for that special reader. NO rest for the wicked in this biz.

I spent yesterday evening - continuing the map and the sketching for novel #2 (tentatively titled THE BOOK OF ROUGH METAPHORS) - and I realized how much I missed the creative process of being lost in the characters, where they have been - and where I'm going to take them.

"Forgiveness is an act of the imagination. It dares you to imagine a better future, one that is based on the blessed possibility that your hurt will not be the final word on the matter. It challenges you to give up your destructive thoughts about the situation and to believe in the possibility of a better future. It builds confidence that you can survive the pain and grow from it."

I threw the self-help book down on the patio next to my pool chair and cursed to myself.

"I need a cocktail!," I announced outloud.

The hot desert sun beat down on my body as I walked to the bar.

"I need the foofiest, fruitiest thing you've got," I told the hairless boy behind the bar.

We made small talk as lots of rum and a splash of juice was blended into the tall frothy concoction. As I had my first sip I thought to myself "that's all the self help I need. Fuck Dr. Phil and all those fucking fuckers."

Then a simply beautiful man stepped out of the hotel and down the steps into the pool. He was in his forties, a little grey at the temple and muscular. He had a fu manchu moustache and a few days' stubble. He was wearing a pair of bright yellow boxers with "pisspig" emblazoned across it like a billboard. Apparently subtlety wasn't his style. He worked out but he wasn't a chiseled god or anything like that. He had some scars here and there - which made watching his body even more interesting.

"Careful, you'll gag on the straw," quipped the bartender, paying back my karma for having dismissed him as a witless twinky boy.

Watching mr. pisspig in the pool was fun - as everyone else in the pool compound had noticed him too. It was like being at an auction and everyone had their paddles at the ready. Figuring him way out of my league - I walked past him back to my chair.

I extended my umbrella - as if the heat of the desert meant less if you were in the shade - and reluctantly retreated back into my book. I'd promised my roommate I'd read the thing - "How to not to be afraid of your own life: Opening your heart to confidence, intimacy and joy." I really don't care for self help sort of books - but this one, despite my frustrations, spoke to a lot of what I had going on in my life.

It is the same old story - country boy meets boy in big city on the nasty leather boy website - country boy falls head over heels for city boy - city boy calls in tears and says "move to the city and build a life with me?!" - country boy moves - and city boy breaks up with him shorty after he arrives, quickly runs right out and finds another boyfriend and blahblahlblah, country boy now a city boy himself is left wondering what happened and trying to figure it all out.


That's me. I moved to San Francisco about a year ago - and fell in love with the city - and ‘city boy'. City boy proved less reciprocal than the city.
"Why didn't it work?," I'd asked, whimpering into my cell phone.


"If you keep asking why, you won't ever find an acceptable answer. It just is. What does your therapist say?", he answered, deftly deflecting.


"I don't know...", I said, beginning to cry, "I'm not trying to be a bother."


"I know you are not trying to be a bother." He said, he said stopping suddenly. I could hear him cover the phone, "Oh it's Bill... I know. We're late," he spoke to someone on the other end.


"Bill, I'm sorry but it just didn't work for me. I thought I could try a different kind of relationship, but I was wrong. And you are making me feel inadequate that I can't explain that to you."


"Okay..." I said through the tears, "I'll talk with you later, okay?"


Hearing me cry he said, "Okay." And with that, he hungup.


And with that, my relationship with Steve was finally over.


What had my therapist said?


"Every time you choose to keep Steve in your life, it is going to involve pain. You have decide for yourself how much of that pain you are willing to tolerate," he'd said to me.


"I want it to feel better," I said.


"You have been through a trauma, and your heart has been damaged. That doesn't feel good. It's not supposed to," he replied.


Dr. Franks stared over my shoulder at the clock, revealing that my fifty minute hour with him was over. I wrote him his check and headed on my way.


So then, after a year of having Steve in my life every single day; I wrote him letter and told him that I needed to stay away from him for a while. I included his house and office keys which I still kept on my key ring. It's strange how things work in life sometime, how they end before they even had a chance to begin.


I had to own for myself that at this point, the only person hurting was me. The only person hurting me, was me. The only person that could stop me from hurting at this point, was me.


I'm still a little dizzy living in Sodom by the Bay, which is why I'd taken this retreat to the desert over 4th of July weekend. Of course, leave it to me to pick the warmest 4th of July on RECORD to be by the pool.

So there I was, sweating by the pool listening to the "advantages of self love" in my book when next to me on the patio was Mr. Pisspig, dripping from being in the pool and towering over me. His swimsuit, now wet, revealed his religious preference and that he was just as hairy under his swimsuit as outside of it.

"I love that book - it really helped me get through my last breakup. You're brave to read that sort of thing out here by the pool where everyone can watch. Most guys wouldn't bring that kind of reading on vacation."

"My pasty white skin betrays me again!," I said laughing sitting up and extending a handshake, "I'm Bill."

"I'm Robert - nice to meet you. Do you meditate or follow any of Piver's advice?"

Nothing more attractive that skipping the small talk and going right into it.

"I used to meditate every morning - and well I got distracted for a while and need to back in touch with it."

"It's important - and I think you'll heal a lot faster when you don't let men distract you from your focus."

"Now you tell me..." I said with another nervous laugh.

"When it's too hot later to be out here by the pool - perhaps we could have an early dinner? Or a drink? I'm staying here at the hotel in room #21. Ring me up later?"

"um. Sure. Um"

"Don't let the pisspig shorts bother you. It keeps the kids away... and it's just one of my many interests."

"Okay, Robert.... I'll call around 5 or so?"

"Good. I'll look forward to it, Bill. I think I'm going to go find the gym. But I'll look forward to your handsome company later on."

He flashed me a big smile and walked away into the hotel, while all the other bidders on the poolside shot me that "you bitch!" look. I smiled and went back to my book.

The little blurbette that started back in July is all forming out into something quite remarkable - and I'm excited to go there in the coming months.

Yay!³

I keep a postcard of Snoopy on top of his doghouse typing "It was a dark and stormy night..." on my desk at home. :) It's nice to know that I have company on the journey.

Comments

[mrh745i.livejournal.com]

My copy was shipped on Saturday. I can't wait to get it!

[pdsexton.livejournal.com]

La-la-love it!!! Keep it coming.

I Guess I Have to Go Out And Get the Book

[walterwz.livejournal.com]

I am normally pretty resistant to what I perceive as "light" reading but I found the blurbette rather thought provoking.

The first question that sprang to mind was how autobiographical was this. I certainly felt very autobiographical. The sense that you were getting a real look into the deep inner working of a man and his feelings was really attractive.

(this incessant and insatiable desire on the part of women makes THEM totally revolting.)

Some interesting observations on my own "been there, done that" factor.

Observation 1: Relationship miscarriages are not utterly inscrutable and inexplicable. There are very clear and definite reasons for them. The problem is that these clear and definite reasons flow from the real desires and motivations. These are largely or more often entirely subconscious.

This statement is SO telling:

"Bill, I'm sorry but it just didn't work for me. I thought I could try a different kind of relationship, but I was wrong. And you are making me feel inadequate that I can't explain that to you."

This is EXACTLY the kind of useless son of a bitch man I want nothing what so ever to do with. He might have no clue why "things did not work" but I would feel quite find standing up and saying: "The Prosecution Rests, your honor."

Wanted: Man who knows what he wants. Man who knows his own mind. Man who knows that he wants me, period. Either you are all of the above of do not fucking bother me.

I so love this statement: "I thought I could try a different kind of relationship."

I SO HATE THESE GUYS. What the fuck does that line mean? I have one really good guess, different kind of relationship? as in trying to make a go of it with Mr. old fat ugly and in no way attractive. I do have to write the translation lexicon for these classic lines of meaningless psycho-babble.

Re: I Guess I Have to Go Out And Get the Book

[low-fat-muffin.livejournal.com]

in this case - it was a relationship with someone 13 years younger rather than peer in his age group. this entire blurbette is entirely biographical. but - will quickly escape off into the land of fiction - landing Bill in a email correspondence with Robert - learning about self love and the true origin of relationships framed around 10 stanzas of Rumi's rough metaphors.

[roybear.livejournal.com]

Congratulations on the book doing so well. Oh, and a smug "I told you so" too :-)

My plan, now, is to get a published copy, get both that and my pre-publish copy autographed by you when you're in Sydney, sit back and watch while your next few books become international bestsellers and your name becomes a household word, then sell my pre-publish copy to for an absolute fortune to a rich, eager eager collector.

Not that there's any pressure tho ;-)

[low-fat-muffin.livejournal.com]

*giggle*

who needs an agent when I have you in my life, right?

and now that Dominic is sicked onto Bob's Kitchen

i've got two great australian cheerleaders!! :)