Chris Jacoby's Blog

Hey Everyone!

As promised, I’m circling back to Unbound this month to take a deeper dive into specific scenes and characters—exploring the inspiration behind them, the personal parallels, and where fact meets fiction.

For this first scene spotlight, I want to talk about the opening chapter. It felt only fitting to start here because that moment—while fictionalized—was rooted in a pivotal experience from my own life. And just like it shaped the trajectory of my life, it also sets the emotional tone for our protagonist, Andy.

Spoiler Alert Ahead if you haven’t yet read the book.

As I’ve shared before in a Q&A, the opening scene was heavily fictionalized. The real incident that inspired it was far more brutal and violent than what appears on the page. I made the deliberate choice to tone it down—not to minimize what happened, but to avoid writing something that might feel gratuitous or overwhelming to the reader. Instead, I chose to focus on the emotional and psychological weight of that moment: the fear, the isolation, and the quiet resolve it took to plan an escape.

Even in its softened form, that scene was incredibly difficult to write. Revisiting those memories—being sixteen, standing at the edge of an impossible decision—was emotionally draining. At that point in my life, I had been given a clear ultimatum by my father: either work full-time and pay rent, or go to school full-time and work part-time. But I had neither the resources nor the support to pursue school. The military felt like the only option that offered a way out, even with the risks it posed—especially when it came to hiding who I really was.

So while the details in the novel are fictionalized—the dialogue, the specific events—the emotional truths are very real. The family dynamics were real, too (with names changed, of course). And that two-year period Andy faces in the book? It mirrors the real countdown I lived through—though in hindsight, those years passed in a blur. I remember clinging to time with friends, soaking in every moment of freedom I could get, while mentally steeling myself for the biggest leap of my life.

I hope this gives a bit more context to how Unbound begins, and why that opening chapter means so much to me. It wasn’t just the start of a novel—it was the start of a journey, for both Andy and for me.

Thanks, as always, for reading and supporting my work.

— Chris

Hey Everyone!

This month, I’m shifting gears a bit from my ongoing discussion about Unbound. I’m thrilled to share some exciting news—my second novel, Frontier Kindred, is now live on Amazon in both Kindle e-book and paperback formats!

While I still have much more to say about Unbound (and I promise ’ll return to that series of posts soon), I wanted to take a moment to celebrate the release of Frontier Kindred and share a few non-spoiler insights: the inspiration behind it, how is differed from writing Unbound, and how it shapes my future as a writer.

All of my writing so far centers on LGBTQ+ themes—because that’s where my heart is. As a gay man who grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, I waited many years for queer stories to be told. Even today, I feel the genre is still underserved. I write stories not only to reflect my own identity but also to honor the experiences of those who never had the chance to tell theirs. My hope is that readers—whether they share those experiences or not—find something true and inspiring in the pages.

Interestingly, the spark for Frontier Kindred came from my husband, John. At first, I resisted the idea of historical fiction—it wasn’t a genre I imagined myself writing. But the more I thought about his suggestion, the more it resonated. Every queer love story is unique, and setting one in a completely different time period only heightened its power. Soon, characters began to take shape, the plot found its rhythm, and my imagination took off.

Writing Unbound was deeply personal—it grew out of my own lived experiences. It was therapeutic, almost cathartic, even as I shaped it into fiction. By contrast, Frontier Kindred opened a new creative door for me. I fell headfirst into building a world from scratch—immersing myself in the history, the setting, and the characters until they felt alive. I researched tirelessly to bring authenticity to the story while letting the romance and humanity shine at its center.

By the time, I wrote the last line of Frontier Kindred, I knew one book wouldn’t be enough. The world and characters had more to say. That’s why I’m excited to share that Frontier Kindred is just the beginning—it’s the first book in a trilogy. I’ve already started drafting book two, and I can honestly say it’s shaping up to be just as special.

Enough for now! I’ll be back next month to continue our deep dive into Unbound, looking at specific scenes (with spoiler alerts, of course). In the meantime, thank you for celebrating this milestone with me.

Be happy, be well!

— Chris

Hey Everyone—welcome back!

I’m glad to continue our ongoing discussion about Unbound. As promised, I’m wrapping up this mini blog series by reflecting on the final and most meaningful theme of the book: love.

When I began writing Unbound, I knew the story would explore identity, discovery, and freedom—but at its core, it’s also a love story. Not just romantic love, but love as a deep emotional truth—something hard-earned, transformative, and human.

In the early chapters, Andy’s longing—rooted in his repressed sexuality—first emerges as curiosity, which he initially experiences in a physical way. For years, his desire was centered on the sexual part of his identity, and when that part finally awakened, he realized there was so much more to who he was than attraction alone.

I tried to show this growth through Andy’s casual relationship with Adam, a fellow airman. That relationship lacked any real emotional foundation. Adam was essentially a “friend with benefits,” and while their connection confirmed Andy’s attraction to men, it left him feeling unfulfilled. There was no intimacy beyond the surface. No loyalty and no depth.

But then Jason came along—and everything changed.

Their relationship, born through phone calls and distance, began as an emotional connection. Without the option for physical closeness, Andy and Jason built something rooted in vulnerability, honesty, and shared hope. By the time they finally met in person months later, their bond was already cemented. Their love had grown not in the body, but in the heart. And that’s how Andy knew—not just that Jason was “the right guy,” but that he was the guy.

Andy’s ache for Jason during their separation—the ache of missing someone you truly love—was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He knew, long before their first intimate encounter, that he was already in love.

I worked hard to make that emotional dynamic clear in the book because it was the truest thing Andy had ever experienced. And honestly? As simple and storybook as the ending may seem, it’s how my life unfolded at that time. I’ll share more about which scenes were real and which were fictionalized in future posts (spoiler alerts included), but for now, I’ll simply say this:

When it comes to Andy and Jason, what you read in Unbound was real. While I crafted certain moments to support the arc of the story, their relationship—its heart and truth—was not invented.

I consider myself incredibly lucky to have experienced love in its purest form: first through emotional connection, and then through physical expression. And I hope I did justice to that journey on the page.

That wraps up our exploration of the three core themes of Unbound: escape, identity, and love. I’ll be back next month as we dive into specific scenes and characters (with spoiler warnings for those still reading!).

Thanks for being part of this journey with me.

— Chris

As more readers discover Unbound, I’ve been asked about the parts of my life that aren’t featured in the book. One topic that’s come up is my prior marriage and children . I wanted to take a moment to speak to that—not to justify, but to clarify why I made the creative choices I did.

My marriage and children were indeed part of my life during the time this story takes place. But thematically, they belonged to another chapter—another arc entirely. Including them would have added emotional layers and narrative complexity that didn’t serve the story I was telling here. I wanted this book to stay focused on one central truth: what it felt like to live in silence, to slowly find the courage to live authentically, and to finally experience a kind of love I’d long denied myself.

Every book is a choice. Every story, especially one drawn from personal experience, must draw a line somewhere. For Unbound, I chose to focus on identity, survival, and healing—not to document my entire life. That wasn’t the purpose. The journey I shared was deeply personal, and shaped by years of inner conflict and quiet transformation. It’s not the whole story of my life, nor did I intend it to be.

But it is my truth—and it was the part I was ready to share.

Thanks for sticking with me through these important reflections. I’ll be back next month with my regular blog series—where we’ll pick up right where we left off.

Until then—all the best,

— Chris

Hey Everyone!

Before I continue with my blog series exploring the core themes of Unbound, I want to take a brief but important moment to address something personal and meaningful. While it’s a slight deviation from our regular path, I believe it ties into the very heart of what Unbound represents: truth, honesty, and the courage to share one’s story.

I’ve always believed that writing is one of the most personal and courageous things a person can do. When I wrote Unbound, I set out to tell a story rooted deeply in truth—my truth. It’s a fictional narrative, yes—but it’s based on very real experiences, emotions, and memories from my life. For anyone who’s read it, you already know it’s a raw, heartfelt journey about pain, healing, and ultimately, love.

That said, I feel it’s important to take a moment to reaffirm something: Unbound is told entirely from my perspective. It’s not an account of someone else’s version of events. It’s not a courtroom transcript or a family biography. It’s the story of how I navigated trauma, identity, and survival—and how those moments shaped the person I am today.

I made it clear from the beginning that the novel is fiction inspired by lived experience. I did that intentionally—not to hide behind the word fiction, but to allow the story room to breathe creatively while staying emotionally honest. Every scene, every conversation, every emotion that Andy experiences is rooted in something true to me. And I stand by that truth fully.

If anyone claims otherwise—suggesting that Unbound is false or misleading—I want to say this gently but firmly: that criticism is fiction. No one else gets to define my journey or my truth. Just because someone sees the past differently doesn’t mean I owe them space in this story. This book is not about them—it never was.

I wrote Unbound to heal and to process. To reach others who might feel alone in their own stories. And I’m so proud that it’s resonated with readers who’ve felt seen or empowered by Andy’s path. That’s the only validation I need.

So for those who continue to support this journey—thank you. Your kindness and encouragement mean everything. And if you’re ever questioned whether your story is worth telling, I hope Unbound reminds you that it absolutely is.

With gratitude,

— Chris

Hey Everyone!

In my last post, I talked about Unbound’s first major theme—escape. This time, I want to reflect on the second: identity.

As I’ve mentioned before, I began Andy’s journey at sixteen because that was the first real turning point in his life. While he knew he was gay from a very young age, he struggled with his identity in more ways than one—and I tried to bring those dynamics out in the book. To explore this theme more clearly, I like to break it into three parts: 1) Personal, 2) Family & Friends, and 3) Society.

Personal: This is all about Andy’s self-awareness—or as some would call it, self-discovery. It’s what he grappled with first and most deeply. He knew he was attracted to boys, but he didn’t fully understand why or how. That confusion followed him from his early teens well into adulthood, all the way up to the moment he finally came out.

At times, he questioned whether being gay was a choice or something he was born with—and that uncertainty only made things harder. It wasn’t until his first intimate encounter with another man that everything truly clicked. In that moment, when emotional connection and physical attraction came together, he finally understood—and more importantly, accepted—his sexuality.

Family & Friends: As the story conveys, Andy’s conservative parents and their traditional values didn’t offer the comfort or safety he needed to come out and live authentically. That fear kept him silent.

When it came to friends, Bobby was the only one who knew—and that happened by chance. Otherwise, Andy had no idea how his other friends would react, and the risk of rejection felt too great. So, he kept his secret close, sharing it with no one else. Bobby never betrayed that trust. True to his word, he never told a soul.

Society: It was the 1980s—and the world was a different place. Coming out publicly wasn’t just hard; it felt dangerous. The risks were endless. Andy knew that if people found out, it could affect everything—his social life, his schooling, his safety. And considering school was one of the few escapes from his troubled home life, he couldn’t afford to lose it.

There was also the fear of being physically harmed. In places like Long Island back then, masculinity was rigid. Teenage boys were expected to be tough, stoic—”macho.” Being gay was falsely equated with being weak or effeminate. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t accurate, but that’s how society viewed it. And Andy couldn’t risk becoming an outcast or a target.

That fear didn’t end when he left home. In fact, it became even more complicated once he joined the military. Back then, before “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was even a policy, the rules were crystal clear—being gay could get you discharged. It meant living in secrecy day after day, constantly watching your words, your actions, even your glances. One wrong move or misplaced trust could cost him everything.

Andy found himself again walking on eggshells, just in a different uniform. The military offered structure, purpose, and escape from his father—but it came with a new set of risks. He had to compartmentalize who he was, keeping his authentic self locked away even as he served his country. Friendships were formed, but always with a layer of guardedness. There were no real outlets, no chances to be vulnerable, let alone openly affectionate. And even though he was growing into adulthood and becoming more certain about his identity, the environment didn’t allow for any expression of that truth.

Looking back, those years were a test of endurance—not just physically, but emotionally. Hiding became second nature. And yet, through all that, the desire to be seen, to be loved for who he really was, never faded. If anything, it only grew stronger. That tension—the push and pull between duty and identity—is something I tried to capture in Unbound, especially in the moments where Andy is torn between the safety of silence and the risk of living openly.

Writing these dynamics into Unbound stirred up a lot for me. I found myself looking back with regret. I resented my parents—especially my father—for creating an environment where I couldn’t be myself. I felt cheated, like I’d missed out on the joy and freedom that should have defined those formative years.

And yet, the irony is that I had a great time with my friends during those last two years at home—from sixteen to eighteen. Still, it saddens me that I didn’t have a high school boyfriend, like so many kids do. I missed out on that emotional and physical bond—on having a “first love” I could be proud of. That absence left a void. And yet, it was clouded by all the pressures I’ve just described. It wasn’t until I joined the Air Force and started living life on my terms that I truly felt fulfilled.

I hope that all of this—the confusion, the growth, the heartache, and the eventual clarity—comes through in Unbound. Because when it comes to the journey of identity, Andy’s story is, in many ways, my own.

I truly believe everything in life happens for a reason. And now, years later—with the help of Unbound—I no longer feel regret. I see my past in a new light. As we always say, we wouldn’t be who we are today if things had gone differently. And maybe…that’s the whole point.

Thanks, as always, for staying with me on this journey. Talk to you again soon—be happy, be well, and live your life. And most importantly…don’t take any shit from anyone! 😉

— Chris

Hi Everyone!

In my last post, I talked about the characters in Unbound—specifically who was real and who was fictional. Today, I want to dive into something even more important: the elements that frame the story. These are the themes that define Andy’s journey.

For this post, let’s talk about escape.

The story opens with Andy at sixteen because that was the turning point of his life—the moment everything changed. It was the period when wanting to get out turned into needing to get out. His father’s abuse had shadowed his entire childhood, but by that point, the situation had escalated so much that staying wasn’t an option anymore. Time was running out, and Andy knew it.

By then, Andy had already been grappling with questions about his identity, and home life only made that struggle harder. His father’s control wasn’t just physical—it was mental. Fear and intimidation were his weapons, and that kind of psychological abuse can leave scars that last far longer than bruises. That’s why, when I wrote these scenes, I chose to focus on the mental torment rather than the physical violence. It felt truer to the reality I wanted to portray, and honestly, it was even more difficult to write because of how close it hit.

The opening chapters show what it was like for Andy to live under Daniel’s rule—walking on eggshells, holding his breath, always bracing for the next explosion every day. For a gay teenager in the 1980s, already trying to figure out who he was, that constant fear was crushing. Escape wasn’t just about leaving a house. It was about survival and, eventually, the chance to live freely as himself.

For Andy, the military became the only way out. College wasn’t an option—he didn’t have the resources or support. So he took the one path available, even knowing what it might mean for someone like him in that era.

This was one of the hardest themes to write about but also one of the most important. And I think it’s where Andy’s journey truly begins—when he decides he deserves better and takes the first step toward it.

Next time, I’ll dive into the second element, “identity.” Until then, thanks for visiting and following along with Andy’s journey.

— Chris

It’s hard to believe that Unbound has been out in the world for over two months. First, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read it. Your support means everything.

As promised in earlier posts, I wanted to begin peeling back the curtain on what was real and what was fictionalized in Unbound. And what better place to start than with the characters? In future posts, I’ll dive into specific scenes and explore other elements of the story, but today, let’s focus on the people at its heart.

Let’s begin with Andy Kramer, our protagonist. As I’ve shared before, Andy is a mirror image of me—right down to his physical features, personality, and moral compass. He’s not inspired by me—he is me.

The Kramer family in the novel is also completely based on my real family. The descriptions of each family member and their relationships with Andy reflect my life with total honesty.

Andy’s best friend, Bobby, is also real. He was a genuinely positive influence in my life during that time, and it only felt right to include him in the story. That said, while Bobby himself is true to life, some of the dynamics and scenes involving him were fictionalized to serve the stories emotional arc. I’ll explore those key moments in future posts.

The “store crowd” from Food Haven was loosely based on a group of friends I had while working at a local grocery store. In the Air Force section of the book, nearly all the supporting characters were based on real people. While some scenes were fictionalized for dramatic or thematic reasons, the people themselves were very much real.

Noah was a complex character to write, for reasons I’ll save for a dedicated post. His significance—and the emotional weight he carries—deserves a closer look on its own.

And last, but certainly not least, Jason McDermott. He’s based entirely on my real-life husband. Everything written about him in the book—from how we first met to that long drive from Phoenix to Omaha—is true. Even the details in the Epilogue are real.

So, there you have it—an inside look at who was real in Unbound. There’s so much more to explore when it comes to specific characters, events, and scenes. I can’t wait to share more with you soon. Stay tuned.

As I’ve mentioned before, now that Unbound is out in the world, I want to take a small step back and give you time to experience the story on your own terms. I’ll be back before long—there’s so much to reflect on and share—but for now, let’s shift the focus to what’s next. And yes, there is a next project already in the works.

When I finished writing Unbound, I assumed I’d need a break. I thought I’d feel creatively spent and ready for some downtime. But oddly enough, the opposite happened. I was more fired up than ever—bursting with ideas and itching to write again. If anything, the extra work I had to put into editing and proofreading (due to some unexpected bumps with the editing firm I used) only added fuel to the fire. While polishing the final manuscript before uploading to Amazon KDP, my brain was already stirring with what might come next.

  Meanwhile, my husband—who is the most wonderfully supportive (and persistent) person you’ll ever meet—had his own ideas. He’d been patiently waiting for my brain to be free enough to hear them. And let’s just say, his enthusiasm was…enthusiastic. He gave me a full pitch: the setting, the premise, even some character details. My reaction?

  “That’s stupid.”

  I may have thrown in one of my signature expletives, too. (He swears I did—I’m not denying it.)

  At the time, I just couldn’t connect with the idea. It felt like a departure from what I had just written, and I wasn’t ready to go there. But if you know me, you know I reflect on everything—eventually. The next morning, while sipping coffee, I found myself thinking about his idea again. I started seeing possibilities. I started asking questions. And by the time he joined me in the kitchen, I was poking around in his brain, genuinely curious.

  Long story short? He was right. The more we talked, the more intrigued I became. The concept began to take shape, and before long I was drafting. I’m thrilled to say that a new novel is officially in progress—and it’s already becoming something special.

What I can share now: it’s an LGBTQ-themed story told through the lens of historical fiction. It’s very different from Unbound in tone and style, and I’m excited about the challenge. I’ve already fallen in love with the characters and the world they inhabit. There’s something incredibly satisfying about stepping into a different era and crafting a story that feels both authentic and relevant.

  For now, that’s all I’m revealing—but I’ll share more in the weeks ahead as the writing unfolds. Thank you again for your continued support. It means everything to me. Stay tuned for future updates, reflections, and a few behind-the-scenes peeks into what I hope will be another story worth telling.

  See you next week.

— Chris

It’s both thrilling and surreal to see Unbound officially out in the world. The moment your story goes live is one you can never fully prepare for. My excitement grows by the day knowing that you—the reader—are engaging with the pages, experiencing Andy’s journey, and soon, forming your own emotional connection with it. I won’t lie—there’s a bit of nervous energy too. It’s like standing backstage, waiting for the curtain to rise, eager to hear the audience’s response.

For this post, I don’t want to spoil any part of the story for those who are just diving in. But I thought it was a good time to pull back the curtain just a little and talk about something I’ve been asked often already: how much of Unbound is true? The answer is layered.

Unbound is a fictional story deeply inspired by real events and emotions. Every character in the book is based on someone real from my life—though their names were changed, and their individual storylines were fictionalized. When I crafted these scenes, I focused less on recreating exact situations and more on conveying the emotional truth behind them. In that sense, the heart of the story is entirely authentic. Certain characters left lasting marks on my life, especially in my youth, and I wanted that emotional weight to resonate on the page. In some cases, the real-life events were quieter or unfolded differently—but the feelings they stirred were deeply impactful. So I built fictional scenes around those truths—moments that reflected the heartbreak, longing, joy, and confusion I felt at the time. It was important to me that the emotional arc remained grounded in reality, even if the events themselves were dramatized to serve the narrative. I often say that I wrote Unbound from emotional cloth—stitched together with memory, imagination, and a whole lot of heart.

Once the book has been in readers’ hands a little longer, I’ll revisit this topic and share more behind-the-scenes glimpses into specific scenes and characters. But for now, I’ll leave space for you to discover the story in your own time—and hopefully, find a piece of your own truth within it.

Thanks for being here. Until next time,

—Chris