Slightly Off the Mark: slightly off the mark

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Barry Manilow and Gay Icebergs

Am I qualified to talk about gayism? I am not. For instance, I just used the term “gayism”, which so far as I know doesn’t exist. Hm. Just a sec, Google and I have a date …

I’ll be darned. That word does exist. It seems I’ve danced out onto thin ice already, so what the heck: I’ll strap on some skates. People speak about issues they aren’t qualified to all the time. I once heard a member of Congress use the words “fiscal responsibility”. Sure, they looked very confused, but they said it.

This might be a shock to my gay friends (I probably have more than I realize), but I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about sexual orientation. What got me thinking about it a few years ago was the revelation that singer Barry Manilow is gay. This announcement was met with a communal yawn, followed by, “Just figured that out, did ya?”

Manilow married his manager, who is a guy, and who Manilow had a very close personal relationship with for three decades. It must be convenient, being able to hold work meetings in the Jacuzzi.

I live in a conservative area, so I was interested in what my friends and coworkers would have to say about it. The general consensus: “So?” Nobody cared, except for the occasional “If they’re happy, good for them”. Most average Joes really don’t care about your sexuality, as long as you’re a good neighbor. The people on both sides who have more hard line views are just louder, that's all.

I’m just the straight messenger, people.

(Oh, fun fact I just found out: The word "heterosexual", which many think of as normal, comes from the Greek term "hetero", which means ... different. "Cis", a word for being attracted to the opposite sex, comes from the Latin word cissexual, which means "on the same side of".)

Yes, I'm a friend of Dorothy, even when she's behaving badly.

Anyway, I’d rather not debate anything related to this other than Barry Manilow’s most awesome song. I love Barry Manilow (in an entertainment kind of a way), and I’m not afraid of telling anyone, but please don’t tell anyone.

I love his ballads. I love his energy, and one of my favorite albums (8-track!) as a teen was his amazing live album. I even love his medley of the commercial jingles he wrote.

By the way, I’m straight, even though my wife will tell you I’m sometimes a girl. Also, I love Boston and ZZ Top, and they’re not gay. They’re not, are they?

Yes, I heard rumors Manilow was gay. I wasn’t dating him, just listening to his music. You can question my taste, but sexuality doesn’t matter unless you’re picking out the right pickup bar.

One of my friends in high school was rumored to be gay. He had the stereotypical mannerisms, and you know how people make assumptions. I defended him, because you can’t tell what a person’s like on the inside based on his outsides. Besides, he and I were both in choir and drama club, and if that made him gay, then why did I only go to ball games for the cheerleaders? So there.

Turns out he’s gay.

How do I feel about him now? The same. I mean, he never hit on me, what do I care? And if he had hit on me back then, being the terminally depressed kid I was, I would probably have been more flattered than offended.

Let’s get back to my point, which … let’s see … oh, yeah. I suspect prejudice will end when we stress individuals, rather than color, sex, sexuality, or clothing, although some people wear some really dumb clothes, and can we at least judge them? Those things will always be there, but the world will be a better place if we don’t dwell on them. Are you gay? Are you straight? What do I care? I’m married.

So I came up with an idea—and I’ll admit I originally formed it several years ago. I’ve written a novel, a science fiction space opera. (And I'm still trying to sell it to a publisher, but never mind.)

Would you serve on a starship with this man? Me, too.

Now, I spend a large amount of time creating and assembling backgrounds of my characters. It creates a more rounded, fully realized character when you know about their icebergs: The stuff about them underneath, that you never read about in the actual story.

No literal iceberg involved. Keep up.

So I know their favorite foods, colors, and animals, childhood traumas, hobbies, vacation spots, whatever. For this SF story, I created a supporting character who’s gay.

No, I’m not going to tell you who that character is. I doubt you’ll figure it out, because it has nothing to do with the story. That’s the point. It's not a love story about that character. It’s just a part of who they are, and it has nothing to do with their actions or the plot.

See, that’s the way it should be in real life.

They might not even like Barry Manilow music.

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Remember: Reading opens the mind.

Update on Hoosier Hysterical II: The Sequel

The last thing I thought would happen with Hoosier Hysterical II: Crying Out for a Subtitle is that I would run out of space.

Yet a few days ago my planned 53,000 word manuscript for Hoosier Hysterical II: The Wrath of Corn hit 59,610 words. This is a problem. I wanted it to be close to the length of the original Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All. I also wanted it to have a cool subtitle, although not as long as the first one.

But wait, there's more: I got my word count wrong. Despite the length of the subtitle, the original Hoosier Hysterical weighed in at only 43,023 words, not the 53,000 number going through my mind. I didn't catch it until the sequel's rough draft was finished.

There's a lot of research involved, and I made the mistake of deep-diving. It turns out a few little details at the top of a biography aren't nearly as interesting as all the stuff that comes between the "B" and the "D".

No, that's not the code for bondage: It's "Born" and "Died". Get your mind out of the black leather.

People I planned to spend a few paragraphs on ended up taking whole chapters. Meanwhile, I had no idea how many people of note have connections to the Hoosier State. Did you know Ian Fleming's first pick to play James Bond in the movies was a singer from Indiana?

Or that not only Garfield, but Clifford the Big Red Dog, Raggedy Ann, and Little Orphan Annie were born in Indiana, along with the infamous Dick and Jane from the early reader books? Or that Ohio may have birthed more astronauts, but we educated them? Or that the Governor of Indiana saved President Lincoln from getting kidnapped?

Neither did I.

56,000 words doesn't seem like much: George R.R. Martin’s last Game of Thrones book had so many words that, if laid end to end, they’d reach the orbit of Jupiter. Still, that's a 13,000 word difference, and yes, I counted them individually. I've often wondered if the reason my second Slightly Off the Mark humor book didn't sell as well as the first is because it was much longer; now I'm facing the same thing.

So here's my plan: I'm going to divide this book up into two. One would concentrate on people, the other on items, inventions, and events. For instance, Katherine Bailey was born in Marion and died in Indianapolis, so she would be here. The incident in which President Van Buren’s buggy overturned in Plainfield, after he vetoed a bill that would have improved the road, would be in Hoosier Hysterical III: Here We Go Again.

Or whatever it ends up being called.

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