2020-01-14 - Winter Wandering and Writer's Block

The snow has gone for the time being, as has even the rain, leaving a cool clear evening in its wake, and the boardwalk quiet. Tourist season is long gone. And the majority of the town is celebrating at Winterfest over in the park, leaving this section of town a veritable ghost town, which seems to suit Elias just fine. He'd stopped by Dante's and interrupted whatever he was doing, cajoling him to come out for a walk with him with no destination in particular. They'd figure it out when they got there, or if they got anywhere. He's dressed in a warm wool pea coat over black skinny jeans and a dark red turtle neck, the boots that Dante had gotten him, now with appropriate weatherproofing, on his feet, as he strolls along at a leisurely pace.

Dante was, as it happened, bouncing off the edge of writer's block, so a walk is a welcome distraction. He's also in a peacoat, but his is a camel colour, and like everything he owns, impeccably tailored. A wool houndstooth three piece suit is a good choice for a damp day. He's also recently had a haircut. Nothing dramatic. Just neatening it up. "What do you do when you find yourself blocked? I try to still do something that feels like work so I don't start using a block as a reason to stop and do something enjoyable."

"I usually take a break and go do something physical to literally jog my brain," Elias says as they stroll along the boardwalk between the shore and the light of the businesses that are open, hands in his pockets, hair loose and pulled a little this way and that by whatever breeze catches it. "Sometimes a walk, sometimes the gym, sometimes a hike in the woods, sometimes sex," Elias chuckles. "Then I make myself go back to it, and try and write something, even if it's crap, just to make sure something gets down on a page. I might go edit it all out later but.. I always try to take it somewhere, even if I decide that somewhere isn't where I wanted to go."

"Sometimes I stare at the cursor and wonder how in hell I managed to publish seven novels." Dante chuckles and kicks at a stick in his path with a stylish wingtip. "I started writing something completely different the other night. I made myself stop because I've already got too many open projects. But it keeps brewing in the back of my head. The problem is, it's quite a bit darker than anything I've written before, and it probably wouldn't sell." Though that might just be the voice of his agent in the back of his head. He exhales a condensed cloud.

"Because you have more than that wort of stories in your head. Sometimes it just takes a little while to fish them all out," Elias says with a sidelong smile, taking slow meandering steps. "Why make yourself stop? If the inspiration comes for something, you shouldn't cut it short -- at least, that's the way I feel about it. I'd have just kept going with it and seen where it took me. Sometimes exorcising a new idea can leave you fresh to get back to the ones that you'd already started." His brow furrows a little then and says, "I think you should write it anyway," when he says that it's darker and wouldn't sell.

"I'm in the position of having established myself. And the last time I indulged myself down a road that my audience doesn't expect, well, the sales numbers were quite disappointing." Dante scrunches his shoulders a bit as a cool breeze flicks over the boardwalk. "The curse of an established style and voice, I suppose? My readers want something new but not too new. It's pragmatism colliding with creativity."

"True, I suppose. They like what they've read and there's a reason for that. They want more of the same, just with different characters and a different story," Elias says with a small nod. "Still, there's no reason not to write it, even if it doesn't necessarily sell. I'm not saying you should drop the other projects that you know will. Just.. it doesn't hurt to indulge a little bit on the side, as well. You don't want to stifle yourself, either."

"That is the delicate balance. And sometimes the tale can be shaped to fit my established, well, brand. Not to put a too fine a point on it." Dante chuckles. "This is why pseudonyms are a thing. Though I do find that publishers really do want a person behind the books these days, so they're harder to maintain. Hard to send someone with a faux identity out on a book tour."

Elias chuckles at that and nods, "Well, that's what it is when it boils down to it, I suppose, as uncomfortable as it might be to call it that to the creative mind." He grins. "Brand. Leaves a feeling like a film behind that you want to scrub off." His eyes sparkle a little bit with amusement. "Which is also why I've never done a book tour," Elias points out. "And probably why, while popular, they're not as popular as they could be if there were a face to the name. Though, who knows. I'm starting to get more comfortable with people knowing."

"I gave up any claim to true artistry long ago. I'm an entertainer, not a ground-breaker or an artist. And I'm all right with that. It's left me with a comfortable living doing something I love." Dante rubs leather gloved hands together. "It's really not so bad. The tours. In fact, it's quite gratifying to meet the people who truly enjoy your work. This is such a solitary profession." Then, "I'd suggest a convention for your first outing if you decide to do it. Nothing too big, but it's got the highest likelihood of being a positive experience."

Elias gives a little shudder at the thought and says, "Honestly, the idea of it makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I love the thought that there are people out there who enjoy reading what I write. But it just feels so /strange/ to expect anyone to know me, or want to meet me, or see me, or .. listen to me read. Which I know is really strange considering that I loved listening to you read when you came to the shop.. and of course, enjoyed meeting you." He laughs, just a little, at himself. "I don't know why I have this hang up about it." He wanders over toward the rail and leans against it, looking out over the dark water, reflecting the light from the shore.

Dante leans against the railing by Elias and looks out, quiet for a moment. Then, "Don't feel that you have to, you know. Do the whole niche celebrity thing. It isn't for everyone. If your publisher isn't making you, and you don't need the money, then don't do it." He lifts a shoulder. "Me? Well, I've got an ego, I admit. And it does like a little stroking now and again."

Elias leans his shoulder against Dante's then, and grins over at him. "I'm not dong anything that I don't want to. And nobody's making me do anything at the moment. My publisher doesn't even know that anyone here knows. They still think I'm entirely anonymous so, unless word gets back to them, I'm not disabusing them of that notion." He leans over and rests his chin on Dante's shoulder, "I don't need the money. I have.. multiple sources of income, and I'm in no way hurting for cash." Then his lips tick up at the corners, "Well, everyone likes a little stroking every now and then."

Dante glances over at Elias and grins wryly. "Well, I think that makes you a bigger man than I. If you can write happily and publish and never get your ego pumped up by hearing someone say they love you work to your face. I find it's a bit like a drug. I understand why people end up publishing books that a segment of their die-hards might love without regard to quality."

"Oh, believe me, I love it when someone tells me that they like what I write," Elias says with a little grin, "But there's something about them telling me that they like what I write, and them not knowing that I wrote it, that .. I don't know. They didn't /have/ to tell me that, because they don't even know they're talking about me, you know? I know, it's twisted and silly, but it is what it is." He nods then and says, "I can definitely understand the appeal, but I mean, if one is making a living at it, then you know, it's a job, and you want to turn out a product that your audience wants to buy. That's just.. the nature of business, any kind of business."

"Oh, I see. You like to hear people say they love it and they don't know they're talking to the author." Dante's tone is warm and a bit mischevious. "Everyone's got a kink." Teasing, that. He nudges Elias gently. "I suppose I'd rather hear praise that may not be entirely truthful than to risk hearing the truth. That someone thinks I'm a hack or a mediocre writer, or that my writing is just okay."

"Just one? So limiting," Elias says with a broad grin, laughing at the nudge and straightening up a little bit from where he had been leaning. "You're hardly a hack, or mediocre. And you know it. There might be people out there who don't appreciate it as much as others, but then, people vary in opinion on everything. Just because one doesn't have a taste for fine wine, doesn't make it less of a fine wine."

"And there's nothing wrong with a cheap, drinkable Cab Sauvignion," says Dante with a wry grin. "A perfectly enjoyable guilty pleasure that isn't trash, but doesn't challenge you. That's essentially what I aim to produce." Which is really selling himself short. It doesn't take a lot of close examination to see deeper themes in his work.

Elias smiles a little wryly over at Dante and then nudges him a little bit with his shoulder, pulling away from the rail to continue the walk down along the boardwalk, "Yes well, you know that you produce better than that. Though I'm not going to stroke your ego by telling you all the ways. I'll let your other fans do that." His tone is light, teasing.

"Not even a little?" asks Dante as he falls into step beside Elias again. "I don't think I can actually write what I came here to write. Anything I'd write would seem like fiction. Or I'd spend the whole book dancing around the truth. But I still owe my publishers a manuscript."

"What were you expecting to write when you got here?" Elias asks, watching the boardwalk ahead of them as they walk. "A non-fiction book relating the tales of the locals as to the strange history and horrors of their town?" He smiles, "There's no reason you can't still do that. There's plenty of things you can write about that wouldn't necessarily sound like fiction if you just.. omit some details."

"Yes, that's what my publisher is expecting. The fourth in the series. We've already pushed it a season, and I only managed that because, well, I almost always hit my deadlines so they've cut me a bit of slack." Dante adjusts the wool scarf up a little higher around his neck. "That's easier said than done, I'm afraid. I can write full fiction, and I can write the truth as I know it. But some kind of hybrid? That's tricky. That, and, well, part of it's an issue of morality. Do I really want to attract the seekers of the spooky to this town?"

"The truth is," Elias says, "That whatever you write about this town, will likely be protected by the Veil, and the truth of it, the exact nature of it will be concealed no matter what you write. So, whatever you give to your publishers is going to be filtered somehow, and come out a little different than you write it if you give them the whole truth."

"Yes, I had wondered about that. I didn't imagine I was the only one who had come here to write something and found more than they bargained for." Dante considers the curve of the boardwalk and the town itself. "I admit that's disconcerting. That some strange force out there might actually change my words."

"It's why everything that I write is purely fiction. Sure, it might be inspired by experiences that I've had, things I've seen, but by and large, it's all written as fiction and presented as fiction not tied to this place at all," Elias says. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who have wanted to tell others about this place -- whether to bring them here or to warn them, but.. it just has a way of protecting itself." He smiles a little wryly and says, "More disconcerting than the dreams themselves?"

"Oh, I didn't say that," says Dante with a soft chuckle. "Dreams are definitely disconcerting. But at least I experience those with others. The idea that this place could change what I wrote, what my name is attached to, and I've no control over it?" And he is certianly a man who likes control.

"Yeah," Elias says as he turns around and continues to walk backward, "Which is why it's even more of a conundrum exactly what it is that you're going to write at all, given the givens." He smiles a little faintly. "What would they do if you just told them you can't give them a non fiction book? Just tell them you couldn't find enough stories or get anyone to talk to you, and give them another non-fiction title?"

"I'm envisioning my manuscript perpetually being delivered as a blank document. And I keep retrying before I'm forced to give up." Dante grins at that, but there's a sense that he's concerned that might actually happen. "Unfortunately, they specifically want another book in this series. If I don't provide it, if I say I couldn't find any stories out here, I've got to return a portion of my advance. And if I'm not writing that book, then I haven't really got a reason to stay here."

Dante adds, relatively swiftly, "From the perspective of my agent and my publisher, that is. They'd prefer I was closer at hand."

Elias lets his steps twist him back around so that he's walking forward instead of backward, though they slow a little bit as he listens, expression turning a little bit more thoughtful. "What happens when you finish it? Presuming that you do manage to write it, and it does manage to go through, and it doesn't end up a perpetually blank document?" He glances over toward Dante then, studying him for a moment. "They'll want you back closer at hand then, I'd imagine."

"Yes. I mean, coming here was never meant to be a move. Just six or seven weeks on the ground, researching, interviewing. Maybe longer if I found some good leads. Then return back East, to New York or London and work with my editor to bang it into shape. I've far overshot that mark now, obviously. My excuse so far is that I've found several interesting stories but haven't quite cracked it yet." Dante purses his lips. "But then, I never expected to have my entire view of well, everything completely upended."

Elias nods his head as he listens to Dante, considering that. He chuckles a little bit at the end though and says, "No one expects the Gray Harbor Inquisition.. or.. something like that." Though he's quiet, then, lost perhaps in some thoughts of his own, or just enjoying the slight breeze that comes off the water, which is pleasantly bracing, rather than bitterly cold like it has been over the past several weeks.

"Maybe I should go up or down the road and write about a nearby town. Somewhere easily accessible. Somewhere not cloaked in Lovecraftian horror, but with enough of a mystery to dig into to make a decent narrative." Dante rubs his hands together as he walks beside Elias. "Might be worth investigating. The alternative is of course, to back out of this book or shelve the next one indefinitely and work on a novel instead. Then I can work quite literally anywhere."

"Maybe," Elias agrees. "That might work, actually. Somewhere like Hoquiam where the university is, or somewhere in between here and there." He glances over at Dante, noticing him rubbing his hands together, and he slows a little bit. "Do you want to head back? I know it's kind of cold out here." Then he says, "Backing out doesn't sound like a good plan, particularly if you have to give back part or all of the advance."

"It's certainly not ideal," giving back part of his advance, that is. "But it is an option on the table, even if it isn't a great one." Dante wobbles his head. "Perhaps Victoria. It was on my short-list initially. It has some interesting stories. And I might be able to pull in some tales from the surrounding area. Plus it's far enough from here that I can be fairly confident it's outside of the veil's sphere of influence." As to heading back? "Perhaps. I've never been very good with the cold." And his wardrobe is built for style, not function.

Elias makes a little bit of a loop in their steps, to start heading back in the direction of the exit to the boardwalk and back toward Bayside, and Dante's apartment. "True, you'd be less likely to run into trouble with that sort of thing in Victoria. I've never actually been there, but I hear that it's nice. And it would allow you to fulfill what you originally were going to set out to do."

Dante ponders that. "It would require a bit more research, and a trip. But it may be possible. And I'd have to put my head down and work pretty solidly to rework outlines and identify stories." He chuckles as something occurs to him. "That might actually make my publisher happy. On paper, Victoria looked better than Gray Harbor, but I insisted there was something here."

"Well, there /is/ something here," Elias chuckles just a little bit ruefully as he wanders along, watching his feet as one foot falls in front of the other, and the little bit of road in front of him, knowing quite well the way along the boardwalk. He glances over at Frankie's shop as they pass for a moment, studying it, and then turns his attention back toward the road. "Maybe you should consider doing that, then? Then at least you'd know for certain what you wrote would come out as you intended it?"

"I shall consider it. And go back to my notes. And drop a few hints with my publisher. Perhaps speaking of uncooperative locals and how the more British Victoria might fall for my accent." Dante flashes a toothy smile, then reaches to loop his arm through Elias'. "Let's go warm up with a cup of tea, shall we?" And yes, he might have pumped up the Englishness on those words just to bring home the point.