The Conception

The Ghosts of Blueman Street was truly an experiment in several ways. The form it would take would prove its challenges, but it was my first genuine attempt to write a novel-length piece of fiction and get it standing up. I'd attempted a novel previously, but after reaching the halfway point, I was sure my skill level was not up to the task. And so I took that unfinished manuscript and put it in the trunk to collect dust. From there, I recommitted myself to writing short stories, an excellent avenue for refining technique and craft.

I persisted in this limbo for many months, writing stories about fifth-hand salesmen, abandoned pink houses, and ill-fit couples finding the death of their relationship near the mountain lakes. Then, one day, the seed for TGOBS was planted, but I didn't know it yet. As with mysterious seeds, one can't quite determine what they will grow into until long after it has broken through the soil. But some plants are meant for small pots, and some are better suited to be planted outdoors where the roots can grow deep and spring up unencumbered by the confinement of form. 

This idea came to me while I was at work. I was in my early twenties, and at that point, working as a Case Manager at a law firm in Marysville, Washington. It was a minor operation, family-run. But I had known the family for many years, and through a bit of nepotism, I got myself in the door. A brilliant family comprising mainly lawyers, paralegals, and actors. (Most of them show up in the final story, and their characters are adjusted accordingly to fit the narrative.) However, the family patriarch, Mr. Neeleman (referred to as Al Nelson in the story), had more shine and cunning than most might realize. And now and then, he would drop a little narrative of the past that would conjure up vivid and intriguing settings. 

One day, he told a story of a bat that had found itself in the office (the office being the converted home that was built in the mid-1900s) and one night, he was working late, aware of the bat, but too focused on the cases in front of him to deal with it—the exterminator would be in the next day—he shut his office door. He continued to work under the spotlight of his desk lamp. And this bat came flapping against the door window, banging on it, trying to go through. He was unbothered at the idea, but suddenly the bat dropped to the floor with a floof! And he stood to see the bat crawling, inching its way below the door. Suddenly, it was up and flying through his office. 

I'm uncertain of the ending of this story; it was told so many years ago and in passing, but either he swatted the thing real good with a case file or simply gathered his items and left for his home office. There was always more work for him somewhere, no matter the time of day. And, hearing this, I had an idea to tell a story set in the office about a bat. This original story and the concept of the bat have been lost, but it set in motion the research of the office building to which Mrs. Neeleman had much of the details—a vault of information that woman, with some secrets never to be revealed. Upon failing my first attempt at the story, finding that it wouldn't fit in the framework of a short story, I set anew for what would become Poor Bobby-Beau. The original owner of the building was also a lawyer, so I had my beginning, but I did not have a direction. That would come.

The Writing of Poor Bobby-Beau

I adhered to strict form when writing this story, following the three-act structure tightly and focusing heavily on ensuring each element had significance to the plot. I was cautious of bearing too much description here and there because I didn't want it to read slowly and over-articulate about the surroundings. It was set in the 1950s, so I tried to subtly capture that essence without being overwrought. Some writers can do that, bringing you into the time easily, but I knew I didn't have that skill, nor did I want to research every little detail and backtrack. I did what I thought was enough and ensured the elements I included worked—or at least, I hope they worked. 

What was important to me when writing Act I was the establishment of orchestration, which I learned from The Art of Dramatic Writing by Lajos Egri. Act I of Poor Bobby-Beau reads as one scene instead of several scenes like the two subsequent stories. It was essential to establish the conflict between the three main characters and how each would send the story on its way and toward its eventual end. Each one of them would push and pull each other in such a way that it would capture the idea: Character is Fate. And that is something I wholly believe; it's easier to derive in fiction, but with a bit of digging around and clearing of the muck, it also holds true in reality. I firmly believe that our destiny is wrapped up in the DNA of our character. And so, Ava's search for purpose and satisfaction worked against Scott's relentless pursuit for permanence, and combined, their selfish negligence forced Bobby to curiously explore his world while not understanding why his disability seemed to bring such shame to his family. 

The 1950s had a lot going on socially. Still coming down from the Red Scare, society was focused on conformity, and The Bluemans had a tough time fitting in. So, this pressure fighting outside and inside continued the story to its inevitable conclusion. Once I had all the ingredients set for the rest of the story, it was a matter of following its patterns. 

I'd written many stories by this point, but even still, writing a narrative that is both long and short proved to be a challenge. I still see each story as a novella of its own—the original hope was to write three that could stand back to back—but it's hard to plan that early on. So it was a matter of getting this one right. The rest would follow, not to mention the countless rounds of editing. But again, I followed form. That was my guiding light through this first story—as it should be for early writers. The beating heart, the beautiful eyes, and the seductive flaws make a person attractive, but without a skeleton, we'd all be just a goopy mess of blood and tissue. So, as it goes, Act II is all about taking those initial faults and connecting them to their inevitable conclusion. It's an enormous task, but simply constructing a bridge between two points. However, this bridge must have enough support so it won't collapse under the pressure of the narrative. To me, this is where the lifeblood of the story flows—now that we have the characters and how they act amongst themselves, it's time to see how they act in the wild. 

The American neighborhood has long since passed if it ever existed in the first place, but that concept of neighbors who know each other deeply, help each other, and exist as extended family is a beautiful concept. I wanted to feel like the street had that pseudo-warmth, so I filled it with people who had given me that warmth. Some of these characters are connected to real people, primarily those I met at work. But as it goes, these characters needed to re-enforce the Bluemans' faults. Ava saw perfection and happiness through their windows, Bobby saw freedom and curiosity amongst the children, and Scott would look for faults and deceptions in these poor people—as he thought he was above the rest of them. 

This part of the story took me a long time to write, what with working full time, having a stoner social life, and all that doubt, but eventually, I got to the end of it, and it was time for the conclusion. 

I'm still proud of this ending, if only because I feel the pace holds steady, and it doesn't rush into anything too fast, nor does it drag on in the end. I'm not one for long-falling actions. Now and then, I'll come to a good one, but mostly, it's an inability to know when to stop. Once the story has been told, it needs to wrap up. So, it was time to see what happened to these characters. And, of course, the goal is to create a surprising and inevitable ending. David Mamet (author and playwright) said that. Hopefully, it was unexpected for my dear readers, but I know it was inevitable. These characters pushed themselves into a wicked spiral that led to the ending of this story, a sad one, but some character faults are simple—sad and inevitable. 

And exhausted as one is at the end of writing something, I usually finish with some half-attempt at an ending line, knowing I'll come back and spruce it up later. However, this time, I liked the simple way of putting it. It's a brutal thing that happened to Bobby, but Scott never really cared about that—he just wanted his permanence, and he got that at the cost of everything.

The Writing of Credence: Misguided and Misplaced

By this time along, I wasn't too sure where to take this second story and as it still stands, I'm somewhat nervous to hear people's thoughts on it, because I was flying blind through most of this one. I had plans, scrapped them, wrote up some new ones, and changed them halfway through, but eventually, I settled down and locked in an arc. Thankfully, from those who have read it, they've enjoyed it a lot—some going as far as to say that Cain is one of their favorite characters. I had more or less figured out my core theme for this entire work. Each story would have its quirks, but I was shooting for a way to fictionalize the concept of the compounding effect of trauma. Not that I've experienced some great tragedies, not by historical comparison—many people have endured much worse. But as it can always be worse, it can always be better. And if the first story represents parental suffocation through neglect, then this next story was going to describe an experience of misplaced trust. It's almost a coming-of-age experience, and sometimes even as an adult, you're reminded it can sting if you put your trust in the wrong person—it can even be fatal. 

So Nina's story began. 

I rather like the story of Nina. Writing a female lead was a fun experience, and I chose her specifically because it is too easy for an author to place themselves (or pieces of themselves) as the main character or the hero. Honestly, many people start that way. Maybe it's discontent with their situation, and so they try to write themselves a new story, or it's simply living out fantasies that might never happen. The creation of Nina was in pursuit of creating someone who was not myself. And the story of misplaced trust is indeed a feminine hurdle. I've seen so many friends get their hearts broken by deceitful people lying and creating a persona hoping to win the favor of their hands. But as it goes, no one can hold a lie forever—the truth almost always comes out. We hope it comes out before it's too late. 

The setting of this story came about because right across from the office is a large, square-shaped, and uninspiring church. Before Mr. Neeleman had bought this office, I had heard it was at once a daycare belonging to the church, so with that, having the setting and my character, the story unfolded. Although I had my plans for this story, it would seem it had its own agenda and came out as it now stands—and I like it better this way. 

The overlap between the first and second stories is unique because the time gap between them is much smaller than the gap between the second and third. With that, some characters in the first story linger, those being the children from the first story (Bobby included). Cain and Abraham are, of course, the same children born from Lee Connley, but Nina also had a brief cameo in the first story. Brittany Farrell lumbers around carrying her, unborn and still to come. 

The world changed from 1955 to 1974, and that change can be seen in these children, now adults. Abraham, poor child, got himself wrapped up in the Vietnam war, and I had intended to tell more of his story at first, but as it goes, that didn't benefit the narrative, so I had to cut it. His influence persists, but on the outskirts, almost ghostly. And the rest of them got caught up in local events. As most of us know, Seattle had quite the problem in the 70s with a certain renowned serial killer gallivanting around the city. I can only imagine the buzz and fear that went around then, but having the story set in this period, it would be irresponsible not to include it in the narrative. And so, that's what Cain and Nina got themselves wrapped up in. 

The first Act, a little more drawn out this time, established these elements, which at first almost seemed too much to handle because not only did I need to get these characters running towards their fate, but also, I needed to get Bobby tied in as well. It proved challenging at first, but I eventually got a hold of it. As they exist, ghosts are usually portrayed creepily and evil—and rightfully so, that which we don't understand takes on a dark shadow of fear. But sweet little Bobby never understood what made him different even when he was alive, so, as a ghost, that persisted—he just wanted to have fun and help. 

If you've read the narrative, you know how it goes. The girls get themselves wrapped up in a projected reality, and so does Cain, hoping for more from Nina. Eventually, this brings us to the conclusion, which I thought was a little sudden, but upon revisiting, I can't see another way it might happen. Cain had seen the world a certain way, and upon seeing something so jarring, his mind snapped as if one's mind might snap in the presence of an ineffable divine spirit. So, although he wasn't who Nina thought he might be, it didn't matter. The situation had turned into her worst fear, and at this point, there was no turning back, and she was locked into what was about to happen. Another sweet soul locked into a terrible end. 

Cain went on his way, and all that was left was to establish Bobby's new relationship with Nina. Still a child, Bobby would find Nina's effeminate presence reassuring and safe. Having spent a good time with children already, Nina would now shepherd Bobby into the unknown. Thus, two ghosts were in place, living slightly above or below our reality. 

To continue with the theme, society often turns a cold shoulder to the damaged, and now 1403 Blueman Street was a veritable homeless—broken, traumatized, and abandoned. It would remain this way until a generous or unknowing soul might try to raise it to its former glory. And that's where the next story begins—with Al Nelson.

The Writing of A Life's Work: Unrequited and Unaware

This story is my favorite of the three. By this point, my writing had come into its own. I felt confident in my structuring, my dialogue, and my characters. I enjoy several scenes in this work, but none more than when Al tells his wife about what happened in his childhood. But with that, this story would bring in its anxieties because, frankly, when I started this story, I didn't know who was going to find their demise at the end of the story. So the most important thing was to write Act I and then, from those pieces, figure out how the story would progress. 

The subject of this story can turn some people off, what with the use of LSD, but it was something that a lot of young men looking for some divine elevation might dig around in. It's a hunt for profound knowledge at a moment's notice, a hunt for transcendence. Unfortunately, the culture around psychedelics reinforces this concept. One must learn from experience that any mental breakthrough comes from one's mind; any profound thought on this substance was already lodged somewhere in one's mind. Raymond would learn this in time, but that wasn't truly what this story was about. This story was about the push and pull of parental guidance and youthful naivete. 

Al desperately wanted his youngest to follow the guidepost he had laid out. Having spent a life guided by rules and religious regulations, Al found that carving his own path was the way to go. Unfortunately, he thought he could save his son the trouble by creating a similar structure for his children. But as it goes, our children are not us, but their own people and poised to make their own mistakes. That's hard to go through as a parent, which might cause stress and worry. So, with that set, I slowly became more confident of what was to come of Al, a character bearing too much weight on his shoulders. 

The characters in this story are certainly based on real people, but that is where the line stops. The characters involved are their own, flaws exaggerated, and personalities merged. There is no 1:1 ratio of the people involved. Writers take the experience of life, dry it out with time, and then shatter it on a blank canvas, moving the pieces around until some image comes to life. That has happened here. 

And so, writing this story, I had a great deal of fun. It was great exploring the dynamics of Al and his family and seeing how his overbearing nature was coming from a good place in his heart. And then, I enjoyed exploring Raymond's livelihood behind the scenes of the office. For, of course, I had my days smoking heavily and finding glorious joy in snacks saturated in sugar while listening to transcendent and lyrical music made by The Doors, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guster, The Decemberists, and all sorts of psychedelic rock. Not to mention, The Beatles had a notorious history of experimentation. 

I'll spare the details of the third story because I would rather read it in its entirety than break it down bit by bit. I would certainly miss something, so I'll skip to the end, which has a great correlation to the opening prologue. 

If you remember, the prologue starts with those three children throwing rocks at the house. And, of course, they see the house as abandoned, broken, and frightful at night. The rumors, the history, and the messy look of the building gave the house a deplorable reputation. So it is a warning, an omen of bad things, and a dark history, but that is all seen from the outside looking in. Now, the ending reverses that initial outlook. After learning the history, one can see that although the past events are dark, the building finds peace among its remaining residents. Al and Nina are dancing together, free from the world's pressures, and Bobby is happy and content to be feeling the joy of being a child among caring parental figures. Each of them misplaced in their own time, but now they find happiness among themselves. And that was the goal; what started as a depressing beginning ends with a sort of twisted serenity. Coming to peace with the missteps of the past is the only way to find happiness in the present situation.

Letting Go of TGOBS

The publication process of this novel was a monumental challenge, one I walked into blind. There were hurdles in the printing, the editing, and the launching of the book. But eventually, it all came together. There are still many things that I would like to change about the final product, but that's the nitpicky part of being an author. Perfectionism is the same as paralysis. There's no way around it. I want my books to shine as an author, but I also know it's important to let go and move on to the next story. 

If I spent too much time on each piece, ensuring everything was tidy, all the commas were in the right place, the margins precisely right, and my satisfaction reassured—I'd still be working on my first short story. This work is a milestone for me, a learning experience. The goal was to get a novel-length work standing upright, and I believe I managed that, even if it leans slightly to the right or the left. Those blemishes are mine and stand as a reminder for future works. 

Do I feel like this is a masterwork? No. But, I am proud of my first novel. Absolutely. I have splendid memories of writing this book, and despite the hurdles of publishing, I can't thank the people involved enough. This is merely the first step on a long path of being an author. And as it stands, I have to put this book on the shelf and work on the next project—that is the only way to improve. Plus, I've got many stories running around in my mind, and just like scratching a hard-to-reach itch, I have to get them out. 

So, if you've read just this article or managed the book as well, thank you for joining me, and I hope you stick around for what's coming—there is a lot more ahead. 

As I do this for myself, I also do this for my dear readers—friends, family, and loved ones. Thanks for your support, and keep an eye on the horizon.