The publisher rejected my novella. Well, not entirely. They asked for some changes that leave me a bit perplexed. See, they want a whole bunch of "had" embedded in the prose. "He'd had..." When they had had..." "Flagg had..."
That's what editors and publishers want when they think their readers are too stupid to follow a story which contains flashbacks.
Deven married? I couldn’t fathom that.
He liked playing the field as it were. I suppose there may have been an ex-girlfriend.
But how many one-nighters ago would that have been? Certainly before he moved in
there, or I would’ve noticed. I think.
But his behavior at the Woods that first
night might be an indication someone discovered a side of Deven she didn’t like.
Chapter 3
We had a great afternoon at the lake.
Lot’s of swimming, sunning, laughing. More and more men arrived. The beach filled
up. The supplied cooler with iced water and sports drinks emptied. Somewhere along
the way it occurred to me that this whole naked in nature thing made me feel…free.
Like I finally understood that a penis isn’t something shameful, and realized what
it meant to be proud instead. ‘Course, at age thirty-eight, it took long enough,
didn’t it?
At one point, two brothers showed up.
The Twins as everyone called them were a sight to behold: In their mid-forties,
slim and tanned, with the longest, thickest cocks and the biggest low-hanging balls
I’d ever seen in my life. They were like overripe peaches weighing down toward the
ground. One carried a volley ball, pointed to the net situated near the water’s
edge and asked for a game. I bowed out. What could be better than sitting on the
sidelines and watching all that delicious heavy meat bobbing and swaying. That alone
would be worth the price of admission. As the game progressed, I started to wince,
and my knees pulled together, thinking about the bruising those balls took. At one
point, I asked who these guys were and how to tell them apart.
“The one with the gold barbell nipple
piercings is Alan. The silver is Alec.”
“Are they, you know, together?”
“Of course,” came the answer as if to
say only an idiot wouldn’t know that. I couldn’t imagine anyone else willing to
tackle those rods. Man or woman. I knew two brothers in high school who jerked off
together all the time, but never knew that “twincest” was a real thing.
There were the expected trips to the trees
to piss. Or for what they thought were the surreptitious blow jobs or ass poundings.
I mean, it was a clothing optional and, obviously, very gay resort. Besides the
fact grunting and moaning gave them away.
I got lots of backstory on most of the
guys. But not a word about Deven. It was like my neighbor had warned them to secrecy
or some shit. It made me wonder, again, why he would be here. Other than he
couldn’t find any women willing to give him the occasional treat of allowing
him to plow their butts. Maybe he couldn’t get blow jobs either, but that was doubtful.
As the sun lowered, someone slapped at a mosquito and declared it time to head back
to the Lodge. We walked as a group, mostly silent. The glances my way didn’t go
unnoticed by Deven.
Each time one of the guys moved in my
direction, Deven would slide into their approach path. I’m not sure what he thought
he was protecting me from. But, he’d say, “Distance! Covid, you know.” And any interloper
would stray back to his own lane.
We donned fresh shirts but no pants for
dinner. We found clean towels placed on the seat of every chair at the dining tables,
and a line of pre-served dinners on the buffet. And despite the late hour, for me
anyway, wisps of steam rose from the plates. Veal Picata, au gratin potatoes, green
beans drizzled with butter and dusted with Parmesan. Healthy-sized wedges of cheesecake
for dessert. Tracy called this a Boxed Meal? I don’t know how much a week here cost
but Tracy knew how to keep guests happy.
Every bite brought a mini orgasm to the
tastebuds. Deven retrieved a bottle of white pinot and we shared it around the table
with our dining partners, Mitchell and Nick. The bear pair who both turned out to
be even more personable and even funnier than they’d been during the afternoon at
the lake.
A set of double doors led out behind the
building. A large patio, candles graced a few highboy tables, party lights strung
from the rafters, tiny twinkling lights adorned the perimeter shrubbery and brought
lightning bugs to mind. Gloria Gaynor suddenly blared from hidden speakers suggesting
we’d survive while disco lights flashed. This place had it all.
I stood at a table nursing a cold beer,
happy to be watching the crowd. Deven nudged me and jutted his chin toward the dance
floor. “Can’t,” I responded, leaning in to his ear and still feeling the need to
yell. “Bum knee,” I lied. I couldn’t dance a lick. Seriously. Whenever I tried,
I flopped around like a fish on the bottom of a boat.
He disappeared for a few minutes, then
grabbed my forearm and tugged. A heavy sigh escaped me as I allowed myself to be
pulled along. By the time we hit the floor, the music had changed to a ballad. He
swept me into his arms, pulled me close, and proceeded to grind a naked thigh into
my cock. Surprise number, what? I think I’d already lost track of unexpected things.
It took all of ten seconds for my boner
to appear and his was close behind. He grabbed my ass with both hands and tugged.
Fairly well matched in height, our hard shafts found each other. As the precum flowed,
slippery cock played with slippery cock. I glanced around afraid others would notice.
Turned out to be wrong. They were all paired up, swaying away.
So, okay, there was no denying how great
it felt to be that close to another body again, to feel the hardness of another
dick, after so many months of jacking off to porn. I wanted it to go on for hours.
At the same time, if it did, I’d cum right there on the dance floor. If that’s what
Deven had in mind he was about to succeed. When the music changed again to the thump-thump-thump
club beat, he wrapped a hand around my shaft and, using it like some kind of leash,
led me back to our table.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Parts,” I said taking a moment to glance down at his hard-on. If more fun with those parts was on the horizon, then absolutely.
14 comments:
Have you submitted to other publishers?
Changing the tense of a book or essay is a rather typical request. Consistency is very important.
Honestly? Do wish it published. Then do the work. It is that simple.
And there is no way around it, except to hire someone to edit it for you, which is per word and can be rather expensive.
Put in the time if this is something you really want. Good books are not born easily. This? This will be a difficult birth.
Oops. I meant to say... a difficult birth because this is your first child.
I write too and I assure you that a rule that I have learned is this: a novel or a short story must be written down and rewritten! You have no idea how many awkward expressions, repeated words, periods to revise I find each time. Try to think if your editor is not, at least partly right, and take his advice and suggestions from him if you think they are right. If you refuse to publish a short story, even if only on the internet, make yourself willing to re-read and correct it.
Ok. First of all I am writing this prior to reading the opening of your novel's chapter 3. And that'd be because I already made up my mind about this "had" thingy your publisher seems to be about.
Since when (Holy Shit! Since WHEN?) a publisher gets a right at having an author to re-write - and therefore rethink all over - his creation (we're talking about an the author's creation here, not the editor's, obviously...)?
Oh yes: since publishers went to being technocrats in love with their computerized ways of thinking. The "copy/paste thinking" as I like to call it.
It seems you shall consider yourself lucky they did not send you a revised (if not doctored) version of your manuscript that would include all these "had's".
Back to what matters most, Pat: these stories, these novels, these characters whose stories you wrote about? They're all yours.
No publisher whatsoever gets to tell you the narrative and certainely not the ways it should be told in any way.
To me this publisher seems like a low-zone leech. Do not let it bite you.
The "had" can help and has been created to help, but it's not compulsory. The publisher's rejection is not serious, but I understand you are frustrated. If not, it is not so difficult to sow bunches of "had" here and there. Otherwise, there must be other publishers if you haven't signed an exclusivity contract with that one.
Hugs and bisous, my darlings Jean & Pat.
If the point of this story was to get me hot and bothered, and slip a hand in my jeans, well then, you succeeded Pat.
I do think you need to go glamping with me to get more material for forth cumming story material.
I don't think too many 'hads' are needed, but I am not a professional proofreader for a publishing company. There's always rewriting when it comes to publishing a manuscript. Dave, who comments in many of the blogs, is going through the publishing of one of his books. Same thing. They always ask for rewritings....
XOXO
Are your flashbacks chapter-long? Chapter 3 starts as a flashback; if it's all flashback, perhaps change the "Chapter 3" to "Chapter 3 - ten years ago" Any thought about putting the flashbacks in another typeface?
I think the problem is that people may not be reading your story in sequence... or (as you think) they're not paying attention to what's going on.
Too bad you can't indicate a flashback like they do in video-- a blurry, swirly effect so people know that they're entering a flashback.
I've toyed with some writing, including a father/son with the same name. And trying to write a scene without constantly including Jr. and Sr. or "The father...." or "The son..."
--PaulMmn
I don't think the reader is going to notice either way. I don't focus on the individual words, in fact I may not even register words because I'm reading the idea quickly.
If you are vaccinated, today is a day to celebrate. New mask guidelines.
Hugs and bisous.
'Had' should only be used to indicate that something is happening at a point in the past before something else happened. Once that's done, the rest of a paragraph should just be in simple past, otherwise it's terrible writing.
I'm also wondering if you could at least ask for a different "editor" at your publisher, which is different than "proofreader". "Had had" seems archaic and cumbersome to me.
I don't mind the "had's", but... 😏 I also don't find them all that important to understand everything properly. .🤷♂️
@ Bat - Ah, but they DID send it back with all their "revisions" inserted. It reads like a 3rd-grader wrote it. This particular "gatekeeper" reads and writes only YA - Harry Potter type stuff. One wonders how she got the position to judge adult content.
I saw a greengrocer's apostrophe. "Lot's".
Proper use:
The lot's potential as a shopping mall is great, situated by a busy offramp.
Sodom may be gone, but Lot's daughters kept its spirit alive.
You would say "lots". "Lots of (plural or mass noun)" is also bad usage, especially in erotica, since it makes you look like you're six. Basically treat lots as a zillion: Only kids should say it.
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