Ryan Loveless's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"
Writing the empathetic jerk
If anyone has read Offside or Pop Life, you know that I love writing jerks. In this blog post, I talk about how to make that jerk someone to love and ask for your recommendations of leading-character jerks.
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Ryan
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http://ryanloveless.dreamwidth.org/13...
Ryan
Read me: http://ryanloveless.dreamwidth.org
Follow me: http://www.twitter.com/ryanloveless
Like me: http://www.facebook.com/ryanlovelessb...
Judge me: http://www.goodreads.com/ryanloveless
Goodbye, Friend (an Ethan, Who Loved Carter short
I was sad about Oliver Sacks dying, so I wrote this as a tribute to him.
Goodby, Friend (an Ethan, Who Loved Carter short) by Ryan Loveless
Dr. Oliver Sacks has died. Carter had lost count of how many times he’d heard that sentence today. He’d woken up to the news and then kept the radio on NPR all day while Ethan was at Pepper’s. Show after show was dedicated to him. Carter tried not to let it mean anything. He didn’t actually know Dr. Sacks, after all. It was just that…
His eyes skimmed over the books lining the shelves, each arranged with Ethan’s particular care. Spines in alignment, alphabetized by category. The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain, An Anthropologist on Mars: Seven Paradoxical Tales. Which book had taught him that when he got overwhelmed by choice, that was his TS? In which had Dr. Sacks’ explained Tourette’s in a way he could grasp well enough to explain it to others? Which had let him read about other people, real, actual, people, who were like him? Every time he opened one of Dr. Sacks’ books, he learned something that he hadn’t known how much he needed to know. No, he didn’t know Dr. Sacks, but through Dr. Sacks he knew himself.
Getting up, he thumbed the top of the books. They’d come along with him from Tennessee to LA and now to Santa Josephina, to find a home at last mixed among Ethan’s ragged copy of Sherlock Holmes and 100 other bits and bobs.
“In a moment, we’ll replay another interview with Dr. Oliver Sacks, who died today…” The radio again. Carter moved over to the desk to turn it off. He stopped halfway and sat on the couch, thumping down like his legs had lost their will.
“Carter? What’s wrong?” He looked up to see Ethan hurrying in. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t heard Vera’s car.
“I didn’t expect to be this sad.” He felt miserable, and sure enough Ethan’s face reflected Carter’s pain as he charged in, dodged the coffee table and embraced Carter with that two-barrelled force Carter never got enough of. Carter nestled his nose into Ethan’s shoulder and breathed.
“I know it’s stupid,” Carter mumbled.
“Your feelings aren’t stupid,” Ethan said into his hair. “Trying to hide my birthday present from me was stupid.”
Carter bit back a chuckle. He hadn’t realized how seriously Ethan took hunting down presents until he’d made the mistake of telling him it was in the house. Three hours later, they were lucky to still have a roof. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to go out? You’ve been inside all day.”
Carter shook his head. “I want to listen to the radio a little longer.”
Ethan peered at him a long moment before he nodded. “Okay but then we’re going to the backyard and you’re going to tell me all about why this man is so special to you.”
“I already told you,” Carter protested. He gestured at the bookshelf. “All the things he wrote and…”
Ethan grabbed Carter’s flailing hand and held it tight. “I know. You’re going to tell me again and we’re going to look at the stars together and we’re going to see if tonight the music is different.”
Carter kissed Ethan’s cheek. “Think he’s adding to the chorus?” This was how they spent the quiet evenings, going out and finding music in the spaces between the stars, between the clouds, between the blades of grass.
Ethan kissed him back, pressing his lips to Carter’s like a whisper. “I don’t know. But I think that if anyone can hear it, it’s us.”
Carter got up and held out his hand to help Ethan to his feet. “Then let’s go. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
A/N: Dr. Oliver Sacks died on August 30, 2015 aged 82. Both the author and Carter mourn his loss.
Goodby, Friend (an Ethan, Who Loved Carter short) by Ryan Loveless
Dr. Oliver Sacks has died. Carter had lost count of how many times he’d heard that sentence today. He’d woken up to the news and then kept the radio on NPR all day while Ethan was at Pepper’s. Show after show was dedicated to him. Carter tried not to let it mean anything. He didn’t actually know Dr. Sacks, after all. It was just that…
His eyes skimmed over the books lining the shelves, each arranged with Ethan’s particular care. Spines in alignment, alphabetized by category. The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain, An Anthropologist on Mars: Seven Paradoxical Tales. Which book had taught him that when he got overwhelmed by choice, that was his TS? In which had Dr. Sacks’ explained Tourette’s in a way he could grasp well enough to explain it to others? Which had let him read about other people, real, actual, people, who were like him? Every time he opened one of Dr. Sacks’ books, he learned something that he hadn’t known how much he needed to know. No, he didn’t know Dr. Sacks, but through Dr. Sacks he knew himself.
Getting up, he thumbed the top of the books. They’d come along with him from Tennessee to LA and now to Santa Josephina, to find a home at last mixed among Ethan’s ragged copy of Sherlock Holmes and 100 other bits and bobs.
“In a moment, we’ll replay another interview with Dr. Oliver Sacks, who died today…” The radio again. Carter moved over to the desk to turn it off. He stopped halfway and sat on the couch, thumping down like his legs had lost their will.
“Carter? What’s wrong?” He looked up to see Ethan hurrying in. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t heard Vera’s car.
“I didn’t expect to be this sad.” He felt miserable, and sure enough Ethan’s face reflected Carter’s pain as he charged in, dodged the coffee table and embraced Carter with that two-barrelled force Carter never got enough of. Carter nestled his nose into Ethan’s shoulder and breathed.
“I know it’s stupid,” Carter mumbled.
“Your feelings aren’t stupid,” Ethan said into his hair. “Trying to hide my birthday present from me was stupid.”
Carter bit back a chuckle. He hadn’t realized how seriously Ethan took hunting down presents until he’d made the mistake of telling him it was in the house. Three hours later, they were lucky to still have a roof. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to go out? You’ve been inside all day.”
Carter shook his head. “I want to listen to the radio a little longer.”
Ethan peered at him a long moment before he nodded. “Okay but then we’re going to the backyard and you’re going to tell me all about why this man is so special to you.”
“I already told you,” Carter protested. He gestured at the bookshelf. “All the things he wrote and…”
Ethan grabbed Carter’s flailing hand and held it tight. “I know. You’re going to tell me again and we’re going to look at the stars together and we’re going to see if tonight the music is different.”
Carter kissed Ethan’s cheek. “Think he’s adding to the chorus?” This was how they spent the quiet evenings, going out and finding music in the spaces between the stars, between the clouds, between the blades of grass.
Ethan kissed him back, pressing his lips to Carter’s like a whisper. “I don’t know. But I think that if anyone can hear it, it’s us.”
Carter got up and held out his hand to help Ethan to his feet. “Then let’s go. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
A/N: Dr. Oliver Sacks died on August 30, 2015 aged 82. Both the author and Carter mourn his loss.
