I just wanna write porn, I say to myself, as I edit the crap out of another line of dialogue and leave all of the pornographic parts to rot.
Pick a character I’ve written and I will explain the top ~three to five ideas/concepts/etc I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to accurately depicting them.
PLEASE ASK ME THE THING!!!
Steve and Bucky share an apartment. They are poor, so poor. The temperature is mentioned at least once (either too hot or too cold). The fact that they live in Queer Brooklyn and know queerness exists is mentioned. Some extra with an Irish or Italian name or veeeery occasionally a Jewish name is mentioned in passing. No other groups lived in New York in this time. It is a fact. If the person has an accent and just came over and only Steve in all of New York is ever kind to them, even better. If Steve gets beat up trying to defend them from Racists, even better than that. Steve gets beat up in an alley defending at least one marginalized person. Steve is also listed as defending women in bars. Bucky does not work in underpaid alley and bar defense. Bucky works by the docks. Underpaid. But always by the docks. Forever the docks. Brooklyn is 99% docks. Bucky works for Steve. Steve was and/or is sick. Steve is so incredibly good despite his sickness. Bucky cannot take his goodness. They say at least one movie catchphrase: ‘pal’, or ‘to the end of the line,’ but probably ‘punk.’ Punk. Punk. Punk. This is a queer phrase, did you know? Bucky maybe dates a girl or seven; who she is and whether they in fact know anyone else in the world is irrelevant. She is maybe a lesbian anyway which we all saw coming because this is Queer Brooklyn. Steve perhaps pines for Bucky but mostly Steve is Good. Bucky thinks about how he is going to afford the rent with all this Depression and also Steve’s sickness.
FFA writes a fanfic, part 2.fyeahffa)
Fact about me: I loved reading this. If your story is this and it’s well-written, I will love it. I am easy. Give Brooklyn boys in love, no matter the plot or the subject. Though frankly, I will likely ex out is they go through the punk-jerk repartee. A fangirl must have standards.
"Meanwhile the sea moves uneasily, like a man who
suspects what the room reels with as he rises into it
is violation—his own: he touches the bruises at each
shoulder and, on his chest,
the larger bruise, star-shaped,
a flawed star, or hand, though he remembers no hands,
has tried—can’t remember …
That kind of rhythm to it,
even to the roughest surf there’s a rhythm findable,
which is why we keep coming here, to find it, or that’s
what we say. We dive in and, as usual,
feels like that swimming the mind does in the wake
of transgression, how the instinct to panic at first
slackens that much more quickly, if you don’t
look back. Regret,
like pity, changes nothing really, we
say to ourselves and, less often, to each other, each time
swimming a bit farther,
leaving the shore the way
the water—in its own watered, of course, version
of semaphore–keeps leaving the subject out, flashing
Why should it matter now and Why,
why shouldn’t it,
as the waves beat harder, hard against us, until that’s
how we like it, I’ll break your heart, break mine."
— Carl Phillips, “Radiance Versus Ordinary Light” from Riding Westward.