Saturday, June 7, 2008

Bobby's Trace Breaks out of the Triptych

Once upon a time, I wrote a triptych of novels called In the Eyes of the Species. These meant to live together in happy harmony. However, I found, after several revisions that they played better apart than together. Imagined as three coming out stories, these were tri-panels in a gay alterpiece, like the ones seen in great cathedrals. The first was a spunky comedy — Cutting the Cheese. The second was a family story about two widows and their children — No Irish Need Apply. The last was a mystery play, but soon developed into a ghost story of a different color, filled with subtle twists and turns. That became Bobby's Trace.

As the parent of these three works, of course I highly recommend them (a parent's perrogtive), but it seems that the paying reading public, although more than kind to the first two works, have showered Bobby's Trace with the most praise. As pleased as I am with this reception, my money would have been on Cutting the Cheese with its biting gay satire and bitchy humor. But that's me. As a parent, I favor my Peck's Bad Boy. Still, the ghost of Bobby has taken off as the elder brother. Perhaps it's the keep them guessing style I employed — a style I use in my fantasy genre works like The Jade Owl and Belmundus. While the gay world of Cutting the Cheese may seem a fantasy to straight readers, and the childhood dilemma of Kevin Borden and Louis Lonnegan in No Irish Need Apply pivotal to everyone's coming of age, it's Bobby's phantasmagoria that has tickled the fancy.

I want to thank the readers and beta-readers of all my works, but especially those thoughtful enough to leave reviews, which I welcome, and paticularly to the Bobby's Trace crowd. It gives me great joy to share my art with those in search of a quick read (true in Bobby's case). Without readers, would authors exist? We would in the short run, but it takes hungry readers to complete our work. From my mind to your imagination, and from there a short detour to your heart and then . . . your soul. My, my, my . . .

Edward C. Patterson
visit Dancaster Creative

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