Introduction

I'm toying with rewriting my short story collection again - this was my introduction to my original work - it still rings true. Especially, because, as theme of these stories suggests - I may be alone - but I am never lonely.

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Imagine how boring a party would be if no one was talking and the only way you could get to know someone was for the host to hand you a description of each guest. You wouldn’t be able to feel the sense of community among people without listening to the conversations between them. I’ve left too many parties where no one was talking. Besides being of little use for story ideas, they were just plain boring.

In fact, I often sit in bars and eavesdrop because I love listening to people. I pick up snippets of dialogue that I can incorporate into my stories, sometimes even thinking of entire plots based on one conversation. I not only listen, but also watch how people talk. The way they move or gesture to make a point are actions that help animate the characters I create.

It’s interesting that when a person walks away from a group, there’s a comment made when he’s barely out of earshot. A friend of mine once told me to count to ten when someone leaves. After all, “A lady never talks about someone right away.” That’s one remark that has yet to make it into one of my stories, but it’s ripe with possibilities.

Without fail, every conversation in a gay bar revolves around sex. There are jokes made on who finds which man more attractive than another. There are comments on who looks butch and who looks like a drag queen, as if they can tell a drag queen by the way the person appears outside of a dress. Many probably think they can, since the drag queen of traditional gay fiction is portrayed as a bitter man on the verge of self-destruction, or as an outrageously flamboyant character who can make no secret of his femininity.

In the stories I’ve read, these men are lonely, outcasts in a world that claims to be accepting of all lifestyles. However, my drag queens are not characters who carry switchblades in their purses and work the street corners turning tricks. They don’t sit in bars, drunk and smoking too many cigarettes. Nor do they teeter on the verge of suicide because they were born male instead of female. Drag empowers my characters to be stronger than the lovers who leave them. Surprisingly, drag enables them to walk away from the men who, ironically, desire them only because they create the ultimate illusion.

Whenever someone sees a drag photo of me, they usually ask why I do it. I’ve realized over the years, that the reason is very similar to why I write. Both are creative outlets for me. When I put on make-up, I invent a larger than life person. I create the look and the talk, as well as how the person I become interacts with others. It allows me to play with people’s minds. I attempt to take someone’s perception and shift it for the brief moment they meet me.

The ultimate goal, with drag, and with writing, is for everyone involved to have fun. In drag, I pose with people I meet on the street only long enough for them to take a picture. Readers of my short stories meet my characters for a brief moment as well. I want the people I create to stay with them just as a picture of my alter ego would stay in their photo album.

Writing stories and scenarios based on my experiences is also an inexpensive form of therapy. I can create a man based on myself, change the past, and even have him retort with the perfect snappy comeback to a lost opportunity. My characters are also a mix and match combination of people I’ve met, either as acquaintances or good friends. By writing, I can satisfy my curiosity as to what would happen if a certain person were in a situation with another. 

I do, however, have to admit that I’m not one of those writers who carry a journal with me. I rely on my memory, especially when it comes to remembering dialogue. Bits of conversation I hear on the street stay with me for days. Even if it’s as quickly as listening to someone on a public phone before I cross the street. But, I’m not alone in my interest. Everyone involuntarily eavesdrops. Whether it’s at lunch, in the checkout stand, in the ATM line, or in the doctor’s office, people love to listen to someone else. I just do it deliberately.

When something I’m saying doesn’t sound right, I stop and start over. It’s the same whenever I finish a story, or a scene that is driven by dialogue. If the words sound funny or forced, I catch it by reading out loud and listening to the flow and rhythm of the conversation. If a person wouldn’t talk the way the words sound, then the dialogue needs to be reworked. For instance, people don’t talk in long paragraphs. They make a point by gesturing, taking a sip of a drink, or rolling their eyes.

Once, a writer in a workshop I attended was reading his story to the group. His main character was delivering a speech, and the author was running out of breath as he read the piece. He tried to finish, but then stopped, apologized, took a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair, and continued. It’s that action that should be incorporated into the character. I don’t like to sit and listen to someone ramble on for twenty minutes without taking a breath. That’s something I don’t expect my readers to enjoy, either.

One thing that I don’t enjoy is being assured by one of my friends that he has found me the perfect man. Usually, during the first half hour of this blind date, we run out of things to say. Attempts at conversation are met with yes or no answers, and to me, that conversation is vital. I don’t even agree to meet a man I’ve chatted with over the Internet who can’t talk in complete sentences.

What I enjoyed most about writing this work, is that the stories served as a type of journal for me. Delving into my own past allowed me to breathe life into these men. There are snippets of my conversations with friends. Scenes from my childhood. Attempts at love. And my adventures in drag.

Above all, I am like the characters in this book, unwilling to compromise who I am to find the perfect lover. Like them, I am surrounded by my friends, and, on occasion, a lover. At times, though I am with all of these men, there are moments when I feel alone—but I am never lonely.