My birthday passed without fanfare yesterday.
Spouse got me a card – the youngest in Colorado with their boyfriend – and the oldest in Texas spent the day working an extra shift to pad his move to PA in March. We ate our usual Saturday lunch at a nearby steakhouse and watched a movie together before retreating to our separate floors.
Last week, the writer’s group meeting provided a necessary distraction from my overstimulated libido. At the start of every year, we assign one person to ‘dungeon master’ a trio of guidelines for stories we’ll create and share only for the group.
This year’s components are Setting: Historical; Narrative: First-person; Theme: Vengeance. Queer characters are a constant – that’s our group dynamic.
Afterward, I sat at the bar and jotted down some preliminary ideas in my new plot-sketches notebook (I got a few as Hanukkah gifts).
Train operator Berek Kozak roams Soviet-controlled Poland and East Germany, hunting everyone on his ‘Kill List,’ from those who took him from his mother to every official that abused him. He finds an ally in his lover, Arik Tarski, a former Sachsenhausen prisoner castrated as a boy.
First-person is weird, but I’ll meet the challenge since the components align well with my whole post-traumatic sexuality muse. I want to craft a screenplay, but the group wants prose fiction.