NOTES OF A JADED BITCH
It was usually the same.
I made it to Hotel S. I went through my starting routine. Then I waited.
Then it occurred. All my co-workers left. Excited I pulled out my laptop. I headed to my Hotmail account, my mind on one thing: Frenchman. I hoped...
...only to find no email that day.
:(
That was how it went. I hoped to hear whether Frenchman was okay whereever he was. That worry intensified when I heard about the swine flu outbreak in Mexico. Americans fell ill. Mexicans actually died.
So to keep myself from going completely insane, I let my mind turn to my main passion: writing.
My first novel DARKENED SOUL I had sent a submission package to a potential publisher. Meanwhile, I worked on an edit-rewrite on my second novel PICTURES OF A JADED BITCH.
Coincidence or just good timing?
PATRICK-'I'm a seer of truth...'
Ah...Patrick.
Patrick was the main character of my novel PICTURES OF A JADED BITCH. In the novel, Patrick was a bitch, screwing over while coming out like roses. The main drive was the mystery of how he became so jaded. Was it a who? Was it an incident? What was it?
I thought that was very relatable. When I was in Jonesboro, I was hurt regularly by gay boys. Not because they had to. They got off on hurting people. So during my sophomore year, I became more grounded. By junior year, I was bitter. And while I managed to have some form of life, that innocence wasn't the same as it was.
Even now, I could not deny that was around me. It was so 'same story, different cast.' The only difference was the addition of Mexicans and Asians to the gay community mix. How people acted wasn't too much different. Same old game. My blood boiled at the thought. I hated games. I preferred the truth.
Thus, Patrick's sense of justified payback on a community he felt wronged him. And Patrick's anger. I totally related.
RYAN-'And you can go to hell.'
Ryan was my secondary character. The Kathryn to Patrick's Sebastian I called him. He was in a triangle with a guy he loved: Ethan.
Most of my life I felt that I was in a triangle. Triangles can be hell. It was definitely something I didn't like. To have to compete for someone who has things you don't have yet you have things they don't. And then the prize can't make up his mind. A total relatable concept in the gay community.
Ryan was also black. I did not really have too many major black characters in my stories. I found that weird since I was a black writer. I also saw it as an opportunity. As a black character, Ryan could representation of what black people who were fem or thug could be. That representation was often lost in the two extremes of gay black community.
And boy, could a black man get bitter.
MARK-'His name is Anton!!!'
Mark was sooo a male Charlotte York, the character from SEX AND THE CITY who was all about love, marriage, and finding her soulmate.
The funny thing about mark was how...unassuming he was. I did not even see him as a Charlotte at all. Once I re-read my novel, it became apparent.
Mark looked for the One. Even when he stumbled, Mark got back up and started again. The optimism and openness shined off him like heat from a light.
I also was surprised how well Mark related to Patrick. It was kinda of a big brother/little brother dynamic. It was a dynamic that I stumbled onto...another sign characters led the writers sometimes.
In this case, it was all good.
'...FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKINS...'
It began slowly. Then like a snowball, it exploded.
"You want a cigarette?"
I looked up from my laptop. It was my friend (and one of the tenants) Jill. I managed a smile.
"Uh...not today," I replied. "I really want to get this done."
"Alrighty-o."
I went back to it. By it, I meant the misadventures of Patrick, Ryan, Mark, and ethan. I had to see what trick Patrick did next. I wanted to see if Ryan and Ethan would get together. I wondered if Mark would find love.
So I read on, the world falling away. Not noticing it until later. I had regained focus and discipline.
To become a serious (and successful) writer, a person needed the focus to go after what they want. A writer also needed the discipline to make it happen. Along all the drama, I've lost both of those qualities.
***
Another day. Another day with the two jobs. If it was not some boxholder talking about whehter the mail was up, it was that a co-worker had not completed something on their shift. I felt like slapping someone. I hoped my co-workers left quickly.
Thankfully, they did. I set up my laptop. I quickly put in my flashdrive. While it did its things, I did my own, checking email. My eyes widened.
Frenchman emailed. He actually emailed. I was speechless. he was in Cancun. Apparently, he made it out of Mexico City right before the swine flu outbreak.
He was alive. I could sigh in relief. Then...I went back to my novel.
Diego
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