When you tell people you’re writing fiction, many times you’ll get this look as if you were a puppy or some other adorable thing. You have revealed to them that you are a dreamer, and it makes them smile with just the slightest tinge of intellectual superiority. For they, after all, are realists and know that trying to write a book and getting it published and actually read by the public is such an incredible longshot that anyone who would attempt it is engaging in magical thinking. And isn’t that the cutest thing?
And they’re right.
In 2014, I published an Amazon ebook collection of stories that I had been working on, on and off, for the past 10 years. It was called “The Man Who Lost His Gayness.” A lot of the stories, as I saw after the fact, reflected my fears about avoiding HIV for 30 years in the jungle. There were also a lot of blow jobs. The writing was frank, erotic, and even crude, as my friend Caitlin told me.
No one quite said it to me directly, although CBS News Human Resources came close: Why are you sabotaging a perfectly respectable journalism career by writing smut?
In my defense, I would say that the sexy bits in my writing have … what is the term? Oh yeah, artistic merit. I’m not exactly sure where it all comes from, or why. But I know I wanted to write about sex from outside the mainstream, monogamous view. I wanted to cop to things that nice people don’t own up to. I wanted to be audacious. It was important to me to write fearlessly. And not worry about what people would think.
In the late 1970s, the playwright Tennessee Williams gave an interview to Playboy. He was asked what advice he would give to young writers. I remember his answer, because I wrote it down in my journal: “I hope he follows his heart, baby. His poor frightened heart.”
I remember those words, whenever I think to myself “You can’t write this! What will people think?”
After all these years of being an objective, impartial journalist, in my fiction writing I want to say what I want to say. Be it politically incorrect, erotic or whatever.
I’m following my heart. My poor, frightened heart.
My friend Caitlin shared with me something that I’ve found very helpful as I navigate the waters of preparing my second book for publication.
It’s advice that the Beat Generation writer William Burroughs gave to the poet/rocker Patti Smith about being an artist.
Build your good name as an artist. Make the right choices for you. Don’t worry about whether you’re read by 10 people or 10,000. Just keep making the right choices.
This week I’m releasing my first novel “Tricks Gone Bad” in both paperback and ebook format. It’s a deeply personal book and I’m so proud of it. I have been fearless in writing this book. Or rather, I have had many, many fears. But I have pushed past them to tell a dramatic story and say some important things.
For me, building my good name is writing bravely. Saying the things I want to say. Telling the stories only I can tell.
I’ll have more about the new book in other posts, including the worldwide debut of my first music video to promote “Tricks Gone Bad.” That will drop soon on Facebook and this web site; it is nothing short of a spectacle.
But in the meantime, I want to thank some of the people who have lifted me with their generosity and good wishes. Thank you, Lindsay Goldwert for your enthusiasm and belief in me; and Clare Culpepper for your kind words. Caitlin Sabo, Susan Hancock and Frenchie Robles. And my best friend Jaime Vazquez who has been a stalwart supporter in my corner for nearly 30 years.
Stay tuned on Facebook or on the AbysmalAntics.com web site. We’re going to have some fun this week!