Grace Notes, Part 3
By Jason Locke
Grace Notes, Part 3
By Jason Locke
Thank you for bearing with me. As a reward, we’re leaving high school. We’ll only revisit it in my dreams from now on. I promise.
Okay, we’re going to fast-forward now. I won’t bother you with the interim. I think we should let it be said that I learned a lot that day. You’ve just seen my worst moment. Come on. Let’s go…here. It’s March, 2001, and we are in an apartment in Estonia. I know. It’s pretty random, but work with me here. Outside, there is snow falling. Inside, the apartment is decorated in mismatched shades of pink: pale coral walls, a bubblegum floor, a red-orange door. The colors clash with each other so intensely that, upon seeing it for the first time, I joked that clearly no gay person has ever been in this country before, because they would have at least fixed the color scheme. Outside, the snow is falling silently.
I’m a different person now. My battered passport is heavily stamped and stickered. I’m about to head back to Moscow in a few weeks. I am far more bitter and cynical, but I hold my humor in. But the questions. My God, they’re on point. I have had to choose something that will define me, and that is my curiosity. A classroom, a press conference, a private conversation: they’re all the same. They’re hard-hitting. And for all that I am, I should mention the one or two things that I am not. I am not an addict. By now, my younger brother, at thirteen, has started using my mother’s pills, but I don’t know that. My older brother has vanished, giving himself over to alcoholism. I don’t know that either. At this juncture, I don’t haven’t seen him for five years and assume he’s dead. But I am unique among my clan of dysfunctional people in that I have no chemical additions left.
I want to say that the people who were cruel to me in high school did not prosper, but they did. Of course they did. They are already transitioning into the careers and families that will define them. And me? Right now, it’s three days before my twenty-third birthday. My life has already derailed, and the train car that I am in is hurtling into the unknown. The mistakes that I have made over the years will soon catch up with me, exploding the life that I have created. But for now, I don’t realize that I have sealed that fate, and that within three years, I will be living in my grandmother’s basement with a résumé strewn with words that need to be transliterated from foreign alphabets and a list of references that require country codes.
I don’t know any of that yet. Don’t let’s tell me. It’ll be our little secret.
Instead, I am concentrated not on work, but on the words written on Microsoft Word. I have just written the words The End at the back of my first novel.
Oh, it’s a mess. I say this with love. The plot was done by a drunken raccoon who ate someone’s knitting and proceeded to vomit it haphazardly onto the page. It’s a dual-timeline gay romance set in the same small Massachusetts college town, in the same row house—one in the years leading up to World War I, in which we have a music professor falling in love with an immigrant German, and one today, between a lower-middle-class man from a huge Irish Catholic family and a rich guy. It is interspersed with the fairy tale the German weaves for his beloved back in Massachusetts when he goes home to Germany, is swept up into the Great War, and then dies. It’s 80,230 words, and I didn’t plan a bit of it. I don’t know much about POV, or plotting, or…anything. But every now and then there’s something beautiful there. Like this first line: Alone of all the O’Donnell children, Michael had never been afraid of lightning. For the first time since that awful day in Mrs. Williams’s class, when I put away those scraps of plot and stopped writing fiction, I wrote this for me. I have tried to give Michael O’Donnell, the main character, a family that is warm and kind, even if they don’t understand him. I have not yet graduated into taking my vengeance upon enemies on the sheets of the page. This is an amalgam of romantic tropes.
But, most importantly, it’s mine. And this is 2001. Gay content is rare, and it’s still controversial. I won’t have the right to marry in the US for another fourteen years. It’s hard to explain, because today there are more choices, but back then, there was such a gap, and I so hungered to see myself in a movie or a book that I would translate it into my mind. Samantha from Sixteen Candles became Sam, and her yearning for Jake Ryan became my own. Until the last scene, when they are finally together, and the translation breaks down as I have to confront the societal approval that they will always have, even though she’s just sixteen and he’s…not. But this book means that that tiny bit of mental gymnastics that I have been engaging in for years is gone. I wanted to show you this image because I promised you at the outset that this would not be a sad story, but one of grace. I will take long breaks in which I give up writing, but this one moment is when I slowly start healing. This is the moment—I realize that now—when my voice becomes important to me, even if to no one else. The book will never see the light of day, and the few people who’ve seen it are distant memories in my mind, but I wanted you to see this, because I wanted you to know that voices, even when they are suppressed, can return. And I wanted you to see this moment because it meant so much to me, and I had no one to share it with. The moment I realized I wrote a novel! So now, I am sharing it with you. Let’s linger a couple more seconds and give this earlier version of me, as imperfect and troubled as he is, the grace that he deserves.
It’s time to leave him now. Let him have his life. Let him learn from his mistakes.
Thank you.
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The International Children Books Illustration Exhibition opens its doors for six weeks every year at Sarmede, my home town, gathering the usual crowd of fans and supporters from various parts of the country. The Exhibition used to be held in the Town Hall of the village which has permanent mural illustrations done by the artists…
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. That opening line is indelibly inked in my memory. Other fictional characters captured my childhood imagination before the March sisters: Anne of Green Gables, Black Beauty, Big Red. All great stories for children. But ‘Little Women’, Louisa May Alcott’s coming-of-age story set…
The Brother has a view on modern verbiage ++ Now, c’mere ’til I tell you this. I’m all ears. What is it? The brother has barred himself from watching television above in the digs. Excuse me? Barred himself for the foreseeable future on account of him having been roaring at the TV in the residents’…
We All Have Our Own Opinions Of course we do! Life would be very boring if we didn’t. But there are elements to story that seem to be essential and universal. I’ve listed some below but it’s not exhaustive and I’m interested to hear other ideas. Character I often hear authors talk about the…
Say What? Writing a novel with more than one point-of-view can be tricky. How can you juggle different personalities and motivations – and somehow use them to tell a balanced, coherent and compelling story? How can you ensure that each character has their own ‘voice’ (something that I find extremely difficult to achieve!)? But does…
There’s something about cats. Yes, in January I burst my eardrum trying to cure the ear mite infection I caught from our two. They wont be sleeping on the bed pillows after that. But I mean more. The truth encapsulated in this post from Jennifer Adcock, writer. “You know who doesn’t get impostor…
Sorry! I’ve been a tad disingenuous with this title because I’m not referring to the act of writing on behalf of others, but rather the literal act of writing about ghosts! Trick, or treat? Of course, there are many ghost stories, especially in the horror genre, but I’ve selected a few from other genres to…
The last few weeks, I have been replaying a video game from my distant past. An old favourite by the name of Final Fantasy VII. I used to play this game almost once a year; I kept going back to it again and again throughout my childhood and often used to inform my imaginative play…
“Do you still see the Bulgarian?” The question tumbled out. “Yes.” Her reply was instant, instinctive, intuitive. “His name is Krasimir.” “Sorry.” He stuttered his response. “I didn’t mean to pry… just a silly question. None of my business. Sorry.” “It’s OK.” She attempted to heal. “I have no problem with your question. It’s not…
Over achievers rarely herald from untroubled upbringings. Being born to a mother with low confidence in her own abilities wouldn’t have been so bad, had she managed an ounce of confidence in her own children. Such is life. The poor woman was bullied by her father. He, in turn, had been emotionally wrecked by the…
Ciao. Getting ready for our two-week trip to Northern Italy. Northern Italy you say. What about the rest of Italy? Well, in due course. A friend of mine recently went to Italy and did the typical, American 9 day, 10 night tour of Italy on a bus. “Bring down your luggage and be on the…
“Aren’t you supposed to be writing?” I shove the nagging question away. The computer will still be there when I return to it, cursor blinking patiently at the top of a blank page. It is Thursday, one of my two weekdays designated for writing. I am cradling a cup of coffee and standing in the…
An Issue of Trust I’ll admit, novels with an unreliable narrator are not everyone’s cup of tea, but I love them. You start off thinking the character is taking us on a believable journey and that we can trust their telling of the events, then unease creeps in. We start asking questions. We wonder where…
Mention the word Trope to us writers and we’ll recoil. Add the word Cliche and you’ll see us running for the hills. These two five-letter words are not what any of us want in our wonderful, new, original, works, right? But consider this: things only become tropes when they are overused, and they only become…
Save the Cat? My three psychological novels have unlikeable point-of-view characters. Without balance, they can appear two-dimensional – and I’ve discovered that achieving that balance is rather tricky! What do I mean by balance? I suppose I’m talking in terms of the reader’s perception. Is the character’s dark side countered by a bit of light,…
I am made of regret, but not of sadness. During my brief and somewhat misguided youth, I spent my money and spoke my mind. I moved countries and continents. I learned languages, had adventures, and spent my life coloring outside the lines. I don’t recommend it unless you want to come back to where you…
A writer friend of mine and I have exchanged writerly encouragement to each other for many years. The most frequent reminder we bounce back and forth is that writing is really hard. We take baffling things in our life, in society, in the world, often stuff that strike us as chaotic, and we try to…
Dear Grandpoppypops Wish you were here? Look at the size of the stamps now! So much larger than the penny black you showed me from your visit. Not much has changed so far as I can see in human structure, society is still set on exploiting other sections of itself. Your industrial revolution really set…
Flann O’Brien’s much-loved character – The Brother – transported to the 21st century. What would he make of contemporary trends and fads? This episode imagines his reaction to Molecular Gastronomy, Nouvelle Cuisine, and the tampering of a subject very close to his heart. ****************** Now the brother has a thing or two to say on…
This is my first post on this forum, so I wanted to do something short and light. What types of distractions interrupt you when you’re hammering away at your keyboard? The phone rings? Your significant other shouts at you from the other side of the house? Your cat comes in and plops down onto your…
Go beyond the usual guide book notes of the Trevi Fountain and savour its unexpected pleasures.
PART ONE Walk through the heart of Rome and you will be lured in one direction and then another as instantaneously as a magnet does with a piece of iron… The Pantheon will attract you with its metaphysical force of the gods, the Foro Imperiale with its magnitude of power… while the Fountain of Trevi…
My first day as a professional writer, I lifted a police report from the pile at the Coffeyville station and read “Murder.” Now, this was a small town, and I was pretty sure this sort of thing was a rarity. I wasn’t sure there had been much in the way of this most heinous of…
First Things First I’ve never understood people who have a favourite song, book or film. Surely your choice depends on your mood. It’s the same with genre. Maybe today I fancy reading something light-hearted and fun. Tomorrow I might want to feel a shiver run down my spine. The next day I might be enticed…
Lucky seven they say, but the morning I had to load that many strong-minded mustangs onto a lorry at the top of the Swiss Alps with a 4am deadline, it seemed a doomed number. Especially when lorry drivers with ferry schedules and EU regulations have famously short fuses. They have been known to…
Hands up anyone who’s had a bit of writer’s block? Looking around I can see that’s pretty much all of us, right? Even you at the back, hiding behind your laptop screen, pretending you’re doing research into character types, whilst actually playing Royal Match and posting videos of your cat. Why do we have such…
I’m delighted to give you an early peek into this year’s Litopia Book Club selections, together with relevant purchase links. It’s a particularly strong and carefully-selected list, and as you’ll know if you’ve attended one of Jason’s riotous Zoom sessions, a good time can be guaranteed for all! For further information and exact dates, please…
Selling highly-priced, poor-value seminars and writing courses to aspiring authors isn’t just unethical – it’s also damaging to the publishing industry, says Litopia’s Peter Cox in this article for “The Bookseller” That old scoundrel Sam Brannan would have felt completely at home in today’s publishing business. Sam, you may recall, was the original promoter of…
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