The Jade Owl is Now Available at Amazon.com

The Jade Owl, the 1st Installment of The Jade Owl Legacy Series, is now available in paperback (on the Kindle also).

Description: "In China they whisper about the Jade Owl and its awful power. This ancient stone, commissioned by the Empress Wu and crafted by a mineral charmer, long haunted the folk of the Middle Kingdom until it vanished into an enigma of legend and lore. Now the Jade Owl is found. It wakes to steal the day from day. Its power to enchant and distort rises again. Its horror is revealed to a band of five, who must return it to the Valley of the Dead before the laws of ch’i are set aside in favor of destruction’s dance. Five China Hands, each drawn through time’s thin fabric by the bird, discover enchantment on the secret garland. Five China Hands, and one holds the key to the world’s fate. Five China Hands. Only one Jade Owl - but it’s awake and in China, they whisper again. Professor Rowden Gray has come to San Francisco following a new opportunity at the East Asian Arts and Culture Museum, only to find that the opportunity has evaporated. Desperate, he means to end his career in a muddle of pity and Scotch, but then things happen. He latches on to a fascinating young man who is pursuing a lost relic that Professor Gray has in fact been seeking. Be careful for what you seek - you may just find it. Thus begins a journey that takes the professor and his companions on a spirited adventure across three-thousand miles of Chinese culture and mystery - a quest to fulfill a warrant long set out to ignite the world in myth and legend. The Jade Owl is the beginning of a series - a legacy that fulfills a terrible truth; and in China, they whisper again."

An Early review: "Brilliantly written fantasy for people who don't read fantasy"5 stars Review By L. Cone "reconexegete" (Philadelphia, PA USA)

"Sinologist Rowden Gray, reeling from his failure to get a San Francisco museum post, falls in with a seemingly unlikely group of people bent upon achieving a strange coition of sorts of Chinese objets d'art. After taking up with one of the scions of his prolific (in more ways than one) intellectual mentor, John Battle, he joins a one-eyed Native American artist, a Chinese-American martial arts expert, and the scion's faithful drag-queen lover, as they embark on a wild chase to reach their objective. Much of the action takes place in a lovingly-described China. This is fantasy for people who don't read fantasy, adventure for those who avoid adventure books. The little bits of surrealism are a seasoning for the great writing, rather than a substitute for it, as is often the case in so many works of this type. A very enjoyable book."

Enjoy this one, my dear readers.Edward C. Patterson

Three Links that Could Change Your Writing Life

Simply put, the world of Publishing is radically changing (has changed). Publishers cannot provide the services to authors that they once could. After 7 published books on Amazon.com in under a year and almost $1,200.00 in physical sales e-Book and Paperback and at $0 cost, I offer my fellow bloggers -

THREE LINKS THAT COULD CHANGE YOUR WRITING LIFE

Digitalpublications (Amazon.com)
http://dtp.amazon.com/mn/signin

CreateSpace (an Amazon company)
http://www.createspace.com/

Amazon Forum:Have You Published a Book on the Kindle - Tell Us About It - Amazon Forum (some 6,000 posts from nearly 200 participants)
http://www.amazon.com/Have-you-published-book-Kindle/forum/FxBVKST06PWP9B/Tx3IZAKD22TKOQ0/1/ref=cm_cd_dp_tft_tp?%5Fencoding=UTF8&asin=B000FI73MA&store=fiona-hardware

If the first 2 links mystify, go to the third and wallow in the world of the Indie-Author and . . . find some courage and get some readers - real readers.

Edward C. Patterson
Paperback
Turning Idolater http://www.amazon.com/dp/1440422109Bobby's Trace http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1434893960Cutting the Cheese http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1434893847No Irish Need Apply http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1434893952The Closet Clandestine http://www.amazon.com/dp/1438220502Come,Wewoka http://www.amazon.com/dp/1438227639/Surviving an American Gulag http://www.amazon.com/dp/1438247230
Kindle
Turning Idolater http://www.amazon.com/Turning-Idolater/dp/B001FWZ92Q/Cutting the Cheese http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0010K2ER6Bobby's Trace http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00150Z5HCNo Irish Need Apply http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0012NOW44The Closet Clandestine http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0018V3WBOCome, Wewoka http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001A7HMT4Surviving an American Gulag http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001BOST1G

Distributive Characterization – Luke Oliver Manifested

There are many ways to develop a character, the most accepted, through the heroic arc, where the protagonist journeys and experiences events, people and obstacles. Thus, the protagonist grows. Another way is through stunted fermentation, where the character has grown and is at a frustrating impasse that is never overcome. Finally, there is distributive characterization, a method I use in my ribald comic novel Cutting the Cheese.

In Cutting the Cheese, the protagonist is a newly emerging gay man, Luke Oliver, still clinging to his ideals and somewhat fearful of every step he takes. He is thrust (self-thrusted) into a frolicsome gay envionment where various stages of his possible future development are portrayed by other characters. There is the over-the-top hustler, the pedantic, ambitious playwright, the snobby child psychologist, the nosey busy body, the wealthy sugar daddy, the jousting couple, the nubile gym bunny and the old, jaded queen. Call it the seven ages of gay men, if you will, but the hierarchy of possibility that stretches before Luke Oliver’s feet are like the doors of Bluebeard’s Castle. Luke is alive to them all. That he flees the scene (and not in terror) and survives by dint of his ideals (and the gym bunny), never precludes that he still might become a cloying playwright or steel tushied old art dealer. The only character that he could never become is the bulldog lesbian that drapes herself in cellophane and storms down the spiral staircase. (See previous post : The Case of Bambi Stern).

Distributive characterization does deprive some characters of their anticipated arc, but since they are possibilities and not final realities, it’s an acceptable literary gamble. It also serves comedy better than high drama, because comedy is as ethereal as life, while drama pounds the square pegs into round holes and disregards the sawdust. In fact, Cutting the Cheese, the dicing of sharp-cheddar into distributive pieces is just the thing for tickling the funny bone. It’s not until the cheese platter is dumped into the trashcan that the air clears for serious probing.

Cutting the Cheese http://www.amazon.com/gp/1434893847

Edward C. Patterson

http://www.dancaster.com/

Halloween Read - "M. Night Shyamalen Beware"

Here's a Hallowen read for you
Bobby's Trace
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1434893960 (Paperback)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00150Z5HC(Kindle)

"Do ghosts mourn the living? Perry Chaplin is in mourning for his life partner, Bobby - a time of stress, notwithstanding. The more he drifts, the more he becomes unhinged until he's one room short of a rubber one. "Get a grip, Perry." So he takes his chances on a blind date, which further plunges him along the nightmare highway. He gets an unsought lesson in life-after-death that turns his bereavement into a horrific adventure. Come peek through Perry Chaplin's mysterious window. See what there is to see. Enter Our Lady of Perpetual Grace, where the holy water boils and the confessionals whisper. What lurks in the rectory's attic? What lies beneath the surface of life and death? What comes in Bobby's - in Bobby's trace? Do ghosts mourn the living? Perry Chaplin knows. Will you? "



Do the Dead Mourn the Living? The Case of Bobby's Trace
================================================
Haunting, my novel, Bobby’s Trace, is a most unusual ghost story. Readers have contacted me with questions concerning the title spook, because they have never encountered anything like him before. Traditionally, literary ghosts are either vengeful, ethereal, wise, or desperately trapped. Bobby may have all these attributes, but his most pronounced characteristic is that he is in mourning — mourning for his lover and for his life. While he is the antagonist to Perry Chaplin’s stressed-out protagonist, Bobby is also a protagonist, trying to figure out the new world that has engulfed him.

As a fantasy writer, I realize that our task is to create parallel worlds, but with Bobby’s Trace, it is the trace that concerns us — the wake he creates as he tries to pass into the next world. We see this world only through Perry’s presence. He channel’s it, a doorway that opens only through him. Perry has wandered into a crack between life and death and is as confused as Bobby.

However, while Perry is trying desperately to get on with his life, nothing can nudge Bobby onward to his death — well, not nothing, but no spoilers here. Writing about death and mourning is a writer’s preoccupation. Most writers do it. Even J. K. Rowling’s landmark heptology, Harry Potter, has death as its principle theme. Mourning is something I know about, but I wondered whether the dead mourn the living. Is there a reciprocation between the worlds — a Taoist balance, a feng-shui between life and death. To this I added the notion that a ghost’s mourning is fed by the level of a beloved’s mourning — a lover’s desperate holdfast. Denial on its pinnacle. Of course, to turn this clinical discussion into a novel that touches the heart is another task altogether. Balancing pace in this short work depends on mutual themes — deception, renewal and sleight of hand. Still, I am pleased that so many readers have seen fit to express themselves to me by mail and in reviews that Bobby’s eyes still haunt them beyond the last page."

What Readers say about Bobby's Trace
===============================


"A subtle and wry humor never detracts from the intensity of the characterizations, which rather unfold like the peeling of an onion to reveal unnexpected layers and depths."


"I highly recommend Bobby's Trace and look forward to reading Mr. Patterson's other material."


"Bobby's Trace is a hauntingly beautiful exposition of one man's failing sanity in the face of prolonged grief. Touching and terribly heart wrenching. M. Night Shyamalan Beware."


"WOW ! Well, I'm glad I stumbled across this little treasure!"


"Impressive. Mr. Patterson has mastered the challenge of bringing his characters to life. I had no difficulty visualizing the characters and events, which allows the reader to forget they are reading a book."

"When I finished the book, I was tempted to re-read it just to experience it all over again. This was a great book, a joy to read, and one I'll want to visit again."

"Bobby's Trace is a combination of ghost-story, love-story and mystery novel, held together with the author's trademark black humour. At times bizarre and terrifying yet also beautifully uplifting, Edward C Patterson has crafted a literary jewel."

" . . . fast paced and I couldn't stop reading. Great twist at the end. I never suspected a thing!!"

Amazon Rating: 4 and 1/2 stars (9 reviews - full reviews on site or at http://www.dancaster.com/)

Come read Bobby's Trace
==================


Grab some popcorn, turn on your itty-bitty reading lamps and spook-up your Halloween reading.

Edward C. Patterson, "M. Night Shyamalan Beware."

The Jade Owl is Coming in November and In China, They Whisper Again

After eight years in the making, the first book of The Jade Owl Legacy Series, simply The Jade Owl, will be released for publication on or about the first week in November. Early readers have received this work with enthusiasm, so I look forward to see this fantasy/adventure in full flight. Here's the descriptive blurb:

"In China they whisper about the Jade Owl and its awful power. This ancient stone, commissioned by the Empress Wu and crafted by a mineral charmer, long haunted the folk of the Middle Kingdom until it vanished into an enigma of legend and lore. Now the Jade Owl is found. It wakes to steal the day from day. Its power to enchant and distort rises again. Its horror is revealed to a band of five, who must return it to the Valley of the Dead before the laws of ch’i are set aside in favor of destruction’s dance. Five China Hands, each drawn through time’s thin fabric by the bird, discover enchantment on the secret garland. Five China Hands, and one holds the key to the world’s fate. Five China Hands. Only one Jade Owl — but it’s awake and in China they whisper again.

Professor Rowden Gray has come to San Francisco following a new opportunity at the East Asian Arts and Culture Museum, only to find that the opportunity has evaporated. Desperate, he means to end his career in a muddle of pity and Scotch, but then things happen. He latches on to a fascinating young man who is pursuing a lost relic that Professor Gray has in fact been seeking. Be careful for what you seek — you may just find it. Thus begins a journey that takes the professor and his companions on a spirited adventure across three-thousand miles Chinese culture and mystery — a quest to fulfill a warrant long set out to ignite the world in myth and legend. The Jade Owl is the beginning of a series — a legacy that fulfills a terrible truth; and in China they whisper again."


So mark your calendars, and get set to join the Professor and his eclectic team of adventurers in their quest to solve the enigma of The Jade Owl.


Edward C. Patterson
Dancaster Creative

The Mystery of Mystery Writing - Whodunit and Turning Idolater

Since my novel Turning Idolater showed up on Amazon.com, I have had readers ask me whether it is more difficult to write a whodunit mystery or a run of the mill novel. My answer to that is easy. If the novel is run of the mill, it’s a cinch to write. I don’t believe I can write such novels. A mystery like Turning Idolater or the forthcoming The Jade Owl (which fits better into the fantasy genre) requires forethought that is more logical. I like to engage the reader by putting clues right under their noses, and then write around them so they miss them completely. (The clues, not their noses). This misdirection is fun for a writer and comes easily to me, but I must admit, to make it all work — to make it so that the reader is completely taken off guard, both mentally and emotionally at the end, takes sleight of hand. I love it when a reader tells me they re-read Bobby’s Trace to track the clues they missed on the first read.

Turning Idolater is an unusual mystery. The underlying glue is that nineteenth century classic, Moby Dick. The sea gushes through the work. The problem with Melville, however, is that his work is ponderous, while his themes transcend the page with simple truths. Therefore, I attempted (and hopefully succeeded) in extracting the themes, overlaying them with a Dickensian story set in modern times — a May-December gay romance between an inspired writer and a precocious Internet stripper. I have looked deep into my own experiences as a gay man and placed emphasis on the ripening relationship between these two men and the perils that befall them, much like the crew of the Pequod captained by an obsessive old thumper determined to destroy the swimming eye of God. Now, that would be a tall tale to write, except it is a murder mystery. The difficulty in any work is not its genre, but the development of the characters. In Turning Idolater’s case, we have four contrapuntal forces — a symphony of souls and, like any opus in sonata allegro form, these elements struggle to resolve on an engaging canvas — in this case, New York City and Provincetown on Cape Cod. The mystery of Turning Idolater is that it is a mystery at all. My characters stood by my hand as I sailed this vessel over rough seas — through shoal water and down sewers. While the characters try to resolve their issues, I am resolving the dichotomy of Melville and Dickens, of Pip and Ishmael, of Whales and sea gulls. Yet at the heart of it, lies not a tricky, surprising whodunit (that’s engaging), but the sweet story of a young man at sea with himself and his hopes. The resolution of his inner turmoil is inherent. He must strike the compromise, or in Melville’s words, turn idolater to find his way back to shore. Whodunit? I did. Guilty as charged.

Edward C. Patterson
Turning Idolater
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1440422109 (Paperback)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001FWZ92Q (Kindle)

The Boy in the Mirror - Kevin Borden in No Irish Need Apply

I have been overwhelmed by the reception of No Irish Need Apply. I guess coming-of-age is something we all do. I dedicated the work to PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbian and Gays) because it deals with coming-to-terms as well. However, feedback from readers say "it is those boys - those two seventeen year old scamps," that have stolen their hearts. So I offer you a sample of Kevin Borden as he does something that author's are warned against - seeing themselves in the mirror. In this case, who can guess what is reflected?

from No Irish Need Apply

"Kevin shut the taps, and then grabbed a towel, giving his hair a lazy dry. He cracked the bathroom door. “Loud and clear,” he shouted. “I hear you loud and clear.” The rush of cool air from the bedroom gave him a chill. His teeth chattered. He continued drying as he emerged into the bedroom like Apollo on the chase. He spied his rental tux spread out on the bed like a warrior’s battle array. It wasn’t the one Sarah wanted — a deep cherry velvet affair, but a plain black contrivance. Kevin had promised Louis to keep it simple; and simple it was. What wasn’t simple was the next thing he spied as he finished drying off. He saw the boy in the full length mirror — a boy grown to manhood, fashioned like a cross channel swimmer, smooth as leotard and as attractive as . . . well, as Apollo on the chase — only his Daphne would be a similar sight with similar appendages.

Kevin dried his legs slowly, and then worked the terrycloth down to the wisp of hazel hair that graced his groin. Thad’s was golden, he thought. The chill warmed his under parts. He knew that if Louis was here right now, the Prom would have been ditched in favor of the sheets.
Apollo smiled as he thought of his Daphne. He thought he heard the distant hastening of his mother’s voice, but she could cool her jets now. He let the towel drop and messaged his chest and stroked his belly.

“My, my Miss Scarlet,” he drawled in a whisper, “your Rhett Butler’s ready for you tonight. Not bad. Except for this little mishap on the knee, quite perfect I would say. In fact, you’re a hunk, Kevin Borden — quite the macho, macho man. A girl in man’s clothing.”

He sighed, his eyes scanning his full form while reaching for his jockeys. “Shame to cover it up,” he said as he stepped in and pulled the elastic band slowly up his legs and thighs and, after an impish squeeze, tucked his assets into the cup. “I’ll unwrap these later. I’m quite excited by the prospects.” Stag, he thought. How I’d like to march in with Louis on my arm. He’d die. I’d die, but it might be worth it. “To see their faces, their hateful sneers,” he sighed. Stag. He proceeded to the tux shirt with its brace of studs. His fingers worked their magic, the holes plugged with faux diamond caps. He inspected the work. It was impressive, this costume in progress. It was a dry run for the wedding — or the funeral. Now for the pants. They were odd things. They looked like pants — a little wider than his jeans, but they defied staying up, until he discovered the side clamps and the suspenders. These were a chore, but when complete, he looked quite the nineteenth century rascal, he did. He slopped his hands into his pockets and flared.

“Look at the boy,” he said, the smile looking back at him through the glass. “Boy, he’s cookin’ tonight. Why that Alison will be drooling when she sees me. And she’d be jealous of Louis, if she knew.” Stag, he thought. Care. “They’d all be madder than hell.” And if they found out — “They’d better leave us alone.” And if they didn’t? “If they hurt him, I’d kill them. I’d rip their fucking throats out.” He snarled and then went for the socks and shoes.

The socks defined the word hose. They kissed his damp feet with silken elegance. It was a new sensation, like a first peck on the lips, but the shoes — those patent leather clamps, felt like electric prods — exciting and ready to go. “Dancing shoes,” he sang. “We’re gonna strut tonight.” He swayed before the mirror. “Dancing shoes.” He imagined he saw Louis beside him. He closed his eyes and saw a room full of men — men on a dark dance floor, the starlight ball casting a galaxy around sweaty chests and scant bottoms. All that hip-hop — all those bodies, undulating gay love. And there was Louis waving in the sparkling beads. Kevin knew where his dancing shoes were taking him. He knew for sure. He knew it was right. He wanted to live on that dance floor forever. I want to dance there for the rest of my life with Louis.

He danced in front of the mirror to imaginary hip-hop, but he heard the beat and the rhythm. How imaginary could it be? He pressed his body to the mirror as if he danced with another boy. “Feet of flames,” he said, sex dripping from his lips. “Fire. On fire. These dancing shoes’ll take me to my man. Steam. Look at the man in the mirror, boy — ready for his love.” He kissed his image."

Edward C. Patterson
Dancaster Creative

Turning Idolater - A Novel of the Internet Age

I am happy to announce the availability of my new novel, Turning Idolater, a work inspired by the spark of change that we all have within us. Sometimes a mite can move us on a course beyond our control, even through passion and sadness and trevail. For my faithful readers (bless you all) and those who would like to dip their toes in my waters, I have provided the Amazon.com link to both the Paperback and the Kindle editions. This one is one from the heart. Let me embrace you with it.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1440422109 Paperback
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001FWZ92Q/ Kindle

Description:

From the author of Surviving an American Gulag comes Turning Idolater.

"Philip Flaxen, who strips past his jockstrap on the Internet for manluv.com, acquires a rare gift — a book that transforms his life. With it, he sparks with a famous author, whittles away at a new craft, swims with an odd circle of new acquaintances and is swept up in mayhem. Philip leaves the world of The Porn Nazi and enters the realm of crisp possibilities - great expectations and dark secrets that unravel over deep waters. Follow this whodunit as Philip Flaxen turns idolater and never looks back — a tale of Internet strippers, backstreet murders, Provincetown glitz, New York City nightlife and a love story for the ages. If you liked No Irish Need Apply and loved Bobby's Trace, you will adore Turning Idolater. Life is filled with serendipity, pleasurable and bracing, but on the fringes and in the heart, life can be a very bloody business. "


Edward C. Patterson
http://www.dancaster.com/

Coming on September 16th - Turning Idolater

I'm proud to announce the upcoming release of my new novel Turning Idolater, a story of intrigue and redemption in the dark recesses of society. Release is scheduled for on or about September 16th in both Kindle and Paperback. Here's the description:

From the author of Surviving an American Gulag comes Turning Idolater.

Philip Flaxen, who strips past his jockstrap on the Internet for manluv.com, acquires a rare gift — a book that transforms his life. With it, he sparks with a famous author, whittles away at a new craft, swims with an odd circle of new acquaintances and is swept up in mayhem. Philip leaves the world of The Porn Nazi and enters the realm of crisp possibilities — great expectations and dark secrets that unravel over deep waters. Follow this whodunit as Philip Flaxen “turns idolater” and never looks back — a tale of Internet strippers, backstreet murders, Provincetown glitz, New York City nightlife and a love story for the ages. If you liked No Irish Need Apply and loved Bobby’s Trace, you will absolutely adore Turning Idolater. Life is filled with serendipity, pleasurable and bracing, but on the fringes and in the heart, Life can be a very bloody business.

Edward C. Patterson
http://www.dancaster.com/

Do the Dead Mourn the Living? The Case of Bobby's Trace

Haunting, my novel, Bobby’s Trace, is a most unusual ghost story. Readers have contacted me with questions concerning the title spook, because they have never encountered anything like him before. Traditionally, literary ghosts are either vengeful, ethereal, wise, or desperately trapped. Bobby may have all these attributes, but his most pronounced characteristic is that he is in mourning — mourning for his lover and for his life. While he is the antagonist to Perry Chaplin’s stressed-out protagonist, Bobby is also a protagonist, trying to figure out the new world that has engulfed him.

As a fantasy writer, I realize that our task is to create parallel worlds, but with Bobby’s Trace, it is the trace that concerns us — the wake he creates as he tries to pass into the next world. We see this world only through Perry’s presence. He channel’s it, a doorway that opens only through him. Perry has wandered into a crack between life and death and is as confused as Bobby. However, while Perry is trying desperately to get on with his life, nothing can nudge Bobby onward to his death — well, not nothing, but no spoilers here.

Writing about death and mourning is a writer’s preoccupation. Most writers do it. Even J. K. Rowling’s landmark heptology, Harry Potter, has death as its principle theme. Mourning is something I know about, but I wondered whether the dead mourn the living. Is there a reciprocation between the worlds — a Taoist balance, a feng-shui between life and death. To this I added the notion that a ghost’s mourning is fed by the level of a beloved’s mourning — a lover’s desperate holdfast. Denial on its pinnacle. Of course, to turn this clinical discussion into a novel that touches the heart is another task altogether. Balancing pace in this short work depends on mutual themes — deception, renewal and sleight of hand. Still, I am pleased that so many readers have seen fit to express themselves to me by mail and in reviews that Bobby’s eyes still haunt them beyond the last page.

Edward C. Patterson

First On-line Book Signing a Success

I want to thank my readers and all those who came to the first-ever On-line Book Signing and Reading of my novel Surviving an American Gulag on August 24th and the encore on August 26th. A complete review of the event can be read at the following link - http://bddesignonline.com/Press/wordpress/

Edward C. Patterson
Dancaster Creative

Edward C. Patterson To Hold First Ever Digital Book Signing Event This Weekend

Edward C. Patterson To Hold First Ever Digital Book Signing Event This Weekend

Author Edward C. Patterson will hold what is believed to be the first ever digital book signing event this Sunday at GotoMeeting.com

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
PRLog (Press Release) – Aug 21, 2008 – “Surviving an American Gulag” by Edward C. Patterson will hold the first ever On-line Book Reading and Signing on Sunday August 24, 2008 from 2:00pm – 2:30pm EST. Mr. Patterson is believed to be the first Author to hold an on-line book signing. After a live introduction and short interview, Mr. Patterson will read an excerpt from his seventh novel, “Surviving an American Gulag.” It is a story the military would prefer to remain lost.
complete Press Release

Invitation to On-line Book Signing and Reading

Invitation to all for an On-line Book Signing and Reading

Next Sunday, Aug. 24, 2008 from 2:00pm - 2:30pm EST

Surviving an American Gulag by Edward C. Patterson will be spotlighted in a new Webinar e-book reading and signing.

Go to the following link to reserve your space at the webinar meeting:

https://www2.gotomeeting.com/register/517031490

Please come and join us for an interview and reading from this author. Questions and answers will be available through live chat or VOIP or telephone connections.

System Requirements:
PC-based attendees
Required: Windows® 2000, XP Home, XP Pro, 2003 Server, Vista

Macintosh®-based attendees
Required: Mac OS® X 10.4 (Tiger®) or newer

Self-based Protagonists - Truth vs. Dare

In a recent BLOG, a question was raised concerning writing novels based on an author’s direct experience. The crux of the matter was whether an author could remain objective while presenting situations that they had personally lived through. Would an author gloss over darker detailed to obscure their own warts, dimming the truth by shining it up? On that BLOG, I gave a cursory answer that needs elaboration in light of my own direct-experience novel — Surviving an American Gulag.

Early drafts of Gulag were written in the first person, and although I assumed the name of Winslow Gibbs, I set out to express my thoughts directly to the reader through terse narrative — a narrative that I must admit was biased with a gay agenda. This is a case where the author has an axe to grind and does it at the expense of the reader’s enjoyment (it is a novel after all) and an overlay of themes that dull the senses to any compromise or rebuttal. I was marching through Georgia like Sherman, burning the world with my own opinions. I thought I was being objective. I presented myself as a fat slug, who went through an Army hell to survive, but in the end, I lost objectivity — that objectivity being the truth of novel authoring, which is to bend the truth for the sake of characterization and the reader’s pleasure.

In the case of Surviving an American Gulag, I decided to recast the work in the 3rd person and draw the self-based protagonist — Winslow Gibbs, as any character that emerges from my pen. As a result, Winslow observes and experiences far more than I ever did, and without all the gay preaching. "It is what it is." The work is about surviving, not victimization. It presents basic hurdles that all young American men need to face — questions of sexuality, patriotism, loyalty, companionship, and peer pressure. In the 3rd person, I found warts I never knew I had until now — forty years after the fact.

Ultimately, an author needs to distance themselves from personal experience to engage the reader. In my opinion, the creative process is hampered when the author develops a character from the inside out. I must enjoy my characters and the situations that beset them. If I can’t enjoy the landscape, how can I expect my reader to sign on for a really good read? As Private Avila says: "There are white lies, black lies and pink lies." Well, there’s a fourth lie — a highly crafted, premeditated one. It’s called — a novel. Happy reading.
Edward C. Patterson

visit me at Dancaster Creative

The Case of Bambi Stern - Real vs. Stereotype

Lately, there has been some discussion on the character of Bambi Stern in my novel Cutting the Cheese. Bambi is a hefty Lesbian, who smokes cigars, wears a man's suit and fedora, and is motivated by cocktail weenies. She is also the president of the Gay & Lesbian Activists of New Birch and Sipsboro. The character has caused some anxiety (not to say, resentment) in some quarters of the Gay Community. Of course, the novel is my "bad boy" work, which goes out of its way to highlight many of the more outrageous foibles found in the Gay Social order. Without doubt, the various characters are based on people I met when I first emerged from the closet. The community, being mapless otherwise, has created its own clue set for any newbie on the scene, who would need a pink compass for navigation otherwise. So, while some characters like Kelly Rodriguez, the snippy hustler or the even cringing Paddy can be received with wicked laughter, when some confront Bambi Stern, the portrayal cuts just too close to the bone. Harumph. Stereotypes. Truth be told, of all the characters in Cutting the Cheese, Bambi Stern is closest to the real life Lesbian she is based upon.

When I first came out of the closet and took up the mantle of Gay Activism, I was set to my first important task - cutting blocks of cheese into small cubes to be served at an executive board meeting. It was an important task, because it tapped into the heart of gossip and provided my first glimpse into the nelly, campy world. It scared the bejeebers out of me. Then I was comfronted by the president of the group, who roared with her bull-moose voice, slapped all the fairy backs and was famous for having made an entrance at a fabled party by strutting down a staircase wrapped in naught but cellophane. If I left Bambi Stern out of Cutting the Cheese, I might as well scrapped the book. Of course, while most readers find outrageous humor by looking in the mirror, some do not, and had even suggested I withdraw the work from review. One reviewer stated (code) "there were issues with this story that took away from my complete enjoyment." Such reaction only encourages me to step up to the plate and dish out some more. Thin skins beware.

The question here is "what is a stereotype?" I often wonder about this. Is a stereotype a cruel set of crude and rude attributes grafted on scapegoats to make them bigger targets, or are they a collection of traits that communities adopt for identity? It's a fine line, but having caroused at Gay Activist meetings and at the general mayhem of a Gay Pride celebration, my observations record that members of the gay community tend to slip into camp whenever they feel the need. It's the yellow brick road to our own private OZ. Therefore, Bambi Stern and her Edward G. Robinson cigar manner is a living, breathing reminder to my gay friends (and enemies) that we haven't cornered the market on self-righteousness. We need to be proud of identities no matter how much cellophane we wear. 'Nuff said? Not nearly.

Edward C. Patterson

In the Works - Turning Idolater (a Snippet)

For my readers (and, of course, potential readers), I am hard at work on my next offering - Turning Idolater, a mystery novel inspired by Melville's Moby Dick about Gay Internet Twink Strippers and . . . well, there hangs a tale. However, let me share a pargraph from the opening of Chapter Four, where I describe (or rather intone) Greenwich Village at night so you may get the flavor of this stew.

"The early spring chill clung to the evening soul of the East Village, much like a cold harbor waiting for its crew to ring the night bell and slurry out to sea. Never slumbering, the crisscrossed lanes and by-ways sang the song of the alive and the free; of the adrift and the wandering. These were the carols awake and acceptable, no map needed to understand the tidal pull; no liturgy wanted to keep us holy and safe from shoals. Here unfurled art and tangents, fostering fireworks and introspection in the same flare - a place in the sun at midnight, where no clock holds our course to the hour, the month or the year. Only the barkeeps and drag queens parry regulation, keeping such lore under lock and key - hymnals emblematic to sailors holding hands in their hammocks strung by night, never slumbering to the buzz-saw snoring liturgy held fast within the barkeep's ring."

- Turning Idolater

Edward C. Patterson
Dancaster Creative

Surviving an American Gulag - Deep, Dark Secrets

Just why I want to promote or even sell a book that holds some of my deepest, darkest secrets - things that I thought would be interred with my bones, is beyond my understanding. Still, the army experience of a gay man in 1967 is too important to shut away and be lost. Surviving an American Gulag was originally penned as a play in 2000 - a rather curious drama with moving sets and a limited cast. When I approached the material as a novel, I immediately found that I wasn't telling my own story, but fostering a point of view. The first draft was in the 1st person and began with a harangue against the military and five yards of gays in the military history. After several false starts at revision, I decided to get out of the way of my own story, cut the preachy crap and just delve into the deepest pit of recollection. I remembered many more souls - lost ones, and many other incidents. The result was satisfactory to me. So much so, I should have burned it as a catalystic excercise - the kind you expunge to lose weight or to stop bed-wetting. Then I thought about the lack of work revealing just how the military handled its "gay problem," before they opted for that lame don't ask, don't tell business. The publication matter was settled. No matter how poorly you judge me as a person after reading Surviving an American Gulag, the record will stand and no one can ever sweep it under the rug or back to the grave where I had intended it.

Edward C. Patterson

Surviving an American Gulag is now Available

Available in Paperback or
in Kindle format

Private Winslow Gibbs has been drafted in 1967 at the height of the Vietnam war. He is out of shape, two-hundred and seventy pounds and a bundle of nerves. He also has issues of a different nature, but in these days before the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, these are dealt with according to the book. Welcome to the Special Training Unit of Fort Gordon, Georgia, where the misfits are driven in the American Gulag. and then there's Private Gibbs, who opts for survival.

Based on the author's own experiences at Fort Gordon, Surviving an American Gulag is a story that the military would prefer remain lost. But not Private Gibbs. It's never forgotten. Always lurking. Defining a generation. Included with this work is "A Dime a Dip," a tale of the author's grandmother and her efforts on behalf of thousands of migrant worker children.

Coming on June 30th - Surviving an American Gulag - A New Novel by Edward C. Patterson

Private Winslow Gibbs has been drafted in 1967 at the height of the Vietnam war. He is out of shape, two-hundred and seventy pounds and a bundle of nerves. He also has issues of a different nature, but in these days before the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy, these are dealt with in a comparatively simpistic manner.

Welcome to the Special Training Unit of Fort Gordon, Georgia, where the misfits are summarily driven to the inevitable Section 8 and a life of self-doubt and failure - The American Gulag. And then there's Winslow Gibbs, who finds in the pressure cooker something few people do - survival.

Surviving an American Gulag is a full length novel by Edward C. Patterson based on his own experiences at Fort Gordon. It's an eye opener - an untold story that most would prefer remain lost in the remote and arcane archives of baby boomers who have sublemated such experiences into spleen. But not this troop. No, not Private Winslow Gibbs. Never forgotten. Always lurking. Forever defining a generation.

Also included as a bonus with this work is a short piece called A Dime a Dip about the author's grandmother and her fundraising efforts on behalf of thousands of migrant worker children. Coming on or about June 30th. Meanwhile . . .

Excerpt from Surviving an American Gulag

East of the City of Augusta, Georgia, on the banks of the willowed Savannah River, Fort Gordon baked, even in the weak February sun. It was a war year — 1967, and the military installation churned out in its flywheel America’s young men to fight the foes of democracy. From city and country, from swamp and high-rise, from volunteer to draftee, they came; or were brought to learn the art of surviving the enemy, so they could destroy the enemy. Lessons old in the craft, Spartan in the womb and centurion in the stance, spun from the mouths of automaton trainers, who had lived to teach these men how to outstrip death’s ultimatum, or not. It was a fruitful task that promised the fatherland ample scope to keep the war fires ablaze.

Fort Gordon, sparse and nearly treeless, except for the occasional copse left to piss on when the authorities were back-turned, was divided into three parts. The permanent corps lived in neatly trimmed greenery, as posh as the Augustan golf courses that flanked the river. Here the officers and their families, and anyone tarred and feathered to be here, made the best of the apparent sameness of a military post and its redundant accommodations.

The training grounds however, were regimental barracks, each two stories high — wooden, cookie cutter, and coal furnace stoked, arrayed in groups of four – Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta. Each array stood adjacent to three, rubber-stamped, squat shanties — a mess hall, a quartermaster’s hut and a commander’s office (the Top’s shack). A small Physical Training course (PT for short) and drill field flanked each training unit, completing the suite; that, and a flagpole. Twenty-four such training units arrayed around a vast parade ground, cuffed by a Post Exchange, a stockade, a motor pool, a chapel and a utility building. A troop churner, indeed.

Finally, there was the wilderness — a camp run-a-muck spread for miles over hill and dale, hard baked in the red Georgia clay beneath the tyrant southern sun. Here the trails were cruel and steeply designed for torment. Here stood the rifle ranges, the confidence courses, the gas warfare shack, the grenade toss, and that terror called the Infiltration course. No matter how much stamina was stored in a man’s gut, the wilderness could pummel it to dust. Those that survived were real men — shaped from longhaired hippies and poor gas pumpers and scrappy street punks and marginal college students, to arise to the standards of war.

Fortune always touted such brigades, but fortune never counted upon failure. That wasn’t prescribed in directives; those official brassy memoranda that shaped all recruits uniformly. What about short falls from the standard? What about those who yearned for home, to be away from the sterile dust bowl of the twenty-four training units. What about the disobedient, the malingerers and the fags? Not covered by instruction until . . . until the focus falls to a far away flank; to an isolated zone — a twenty-fifth unit, whispered about during smoke breaks and mess hall gossip and other such prattling. A place as mythic to the troops as Purgatory and certainly conjured up to make all soldiers toe the line. Yet, every now and then a soldier could look down the road toward that isolation zone and see it; yet, not see it, because it was hidden in plain sight. Still, occasionally at roll call or at evening muster, a fellow troop would be missing, and yet no drill sergeant hysterics accompanied the disappearance. There was just a dash in the line, one closed up by a dress-right and an at-ease. Brief puzzlement. A shrug, and then on to the tortures of the day until, within a few hours, perhaps less, that soldier’s name was forgotten — red Georgia dust in the wind, hidden in plain sight.

copyright 2008, Edward C. Patterson

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