I’m
pleased to have here this week the extremely talented, Gay Fiction Author, Alan Chin. Thank you, Alan for agreeing to this interview, very pleased to have you here. Let's get started.
COULD
YOU PLEASE SHARE THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOU?
Devoted,
Persistent, Enthusiastic
PLEASE
ORGANIZE THESE WORDS, PLACING THE MOST IMPORTANT TO YOU FIRST AND BRIEFLY
EXPLAIN YOUR REASON.
FAMILY, WRITING,
SEX, MUSIC, FRIENDS, ANIMALS, LOVE, SPORTS, CHILDREN
This is a
great question.
Love, Family,
Friends, Children, Animals, Writing, Sex, Sports
I have practiced
Buddhism for over thirty years, which means I strive to place love and
compassion for all living creatures above all else, explaining my first five
picks. After my spiritual love, I place my devotion on writing, which remains
something I’m consumed with. I love the creative aspect of developing
characters, settings and story plots. Last come sex and sports. They were a
large part of my life a dozen years ago, but the older I grow, the less
significant they become.
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| Island Song |
HOW
LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WRITING?
I have loved
writing since getting my masters degree in writing back in 1991. I didn’t start
writing to be published until I retired from the corporate world in 1999, and
started writing my first novel, Island Song, in 2002, which was published in
2008. Since releasing Island Song, I’ve published six other novels and one
short story.
WHAT
ARE YOU WORKING ON RIGHT NOW?
Just days ago
I completed a novel, First Exposure, that I’ve been working on for three years.
It will be published by Bold Strokes Book in Aug. 2014. It’s about a straight,
military man who mistakenly becomes the target of homophobic rage by
befriending a gay sailor.
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| Thai Buddhist Temple |
I’m also
working on a collection of six short novellas all taking place in Thai Buddhist
temples. Most of these stories (some based on true events) are stories of
Western men traveling to Thailand to become monks. They are about culture
shock, about finding or losing love, and about realizing what is really
important in life.
WHICH
CHARACTER IN YOUR BOOK(S) DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH, AND WHY?
Ha! All of
them. (grins) They all come from inside me, and good or bad, saint or
scoundrel, they are all splinters of my varied personality and imagination.
SHARE
THE NAMES OF A FEW AUTHORS WHO INSPIRE YOU.
There are so
many. Colm Toibin and Marguerite Duras for their beautiful prose. Truman Capote
for his vivid characters. Christopher Isherwood, Michael Cunningham and Evelyn
Waugh for everything. I’m also a fan of Michael Crichton for just solidly
entertaining storytelling. And of course, Annie Proulx for her brilliant short
stories. We are so
lucky to live in a time where we have so many masters to choose from.
SHARE
THE MUSIC/MUSICIANS THAT YOU LIKE AND HOW THEY ADD TO YOUR LIFE OR WRITING?
When it comes
to music, I’m a bit of a gay cliché. First and foremost, I’m an opera queen. I
love all types of classical music, and most types of jazz. I was raised on ‘60s,
‘70s, and ‘80s rock, and that still holds a place in my heart.
Music has a
huge hold on my life. I met my husband at the San Francisco Opera twenty years
ago, and it is a love we share, something that brings us closer together. We
have traveled to over forty countries over the last fifteen years, and have
attended concerts and opera performances in many of those countries.
IF
YOU WEREN’T A WRITER, WHAT OTHER CAREER WOULD YOU CHOOSE?
I once managed
a team of software engineers and cutting-edge IT projects, but I don’t think I
would go back to software development no matter how much they paid me.
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| Lotus blossom |
I have
considered from time to time—and I’m leaving this option open—of becoming a
novice, Buddhist monk, and walking the spiritual path, inching my way toward
enlightenment. Part of me would really love to study the scriptures, and have a
master who would guide me down that path. I’d be there now if it were not for
my commitment to my husband (also the thought of getting up at 4am every
morning and begging for food, only to eat one meal per day. It’s a hard life
that I’m not sure I could endure.)
Barring that,
I would want to do something creative like producing/directing documentary
films. I guess I’m still a storyteller at heart, and a different career would
need to incorporate that aspect of my personality.
WHERE
CAN WE FIND YOU ON THE INTERNET?
You can read
the first few chapters of all my published books (seven in all) at http://alanchin.net You can also select the
“Free Story” button and I’ll email you a free short story from my Thai Monk
collection.
I also
maintain a writers blog at http://alanchinwriter.blogspot.com/
where I post my thoughts, book reviews, writing tips, and excerpts from my
works.
ENJOY THIS EXCERPT FROM: THE PLAIN OF BITTER HONEY
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| The Plain of Bitter Honey |
At last, Aaron opened his eyes to
find himself staring into eyes that were disturbing in their clarity. Those
eyes bored into his; they seemed to dissolve all questions and all answers
within their depth. They were the eyes of a man watching the trajectory of a
stag leaping off a cliff, with more amusement than horror, but at the same time
expressing sympathy for the stag.
“I’m sorry that I’ve put you in
danger,” Aaron said. “I’ll never do it again. Packs?”
“Because you’ll give up these
underground activities?”
“Because I’ll keep this shit far
away from you.”
“Okay, packs.” Hayden hooked his
little finger through Aaron’s and gave it a tug. He leaned forward and kissed
Aaron on the lips—a loving, sensual kiss. Aaron didn’t resist. Considering our circumstances, Aaron
thought, this might prove to be our last
chance to show affection.
Hayden pulled back. “No matter
what, I love you.”
“I know.”
“Yes, but I wanted to say it out
loud, just once.”
Hayden squeezed Aaron’s hands with
icy fingers. “What about this Julian fellow. Does he make you happy?” Aaron
asked, already knowing the answer.
“Brother, have you forgotten the
last chorus of Oedipus: Call no man happy until he is dead.”
Aaron nodded. “You writers are so
full of shit.”
They kissed again before Aaron led
his brother back into the living room. All eyes turned toward them.
“Listen up, people,” Aaron said.
“It’s time for a hasty retreat. We’ll go over the roof in pairs, three minutes
apart. Hopefully they’re not watching the alley.
Stubbs, you take Maggie. Hayden,
you and Julian can leave the way you came, but you’d better hurry. We’ll meet
up at the safe house in the Castro in three days time.”
Stubbs and Maggie checked their
handguns; both clicked their safety off.
The Armenian hissed, “Van coming.
Looks like Marwick’s.”
Aaron rushed to the window. A black
van was too far down the hill to identify. He’s
guessing, Aaron thought. He snatched the binoculars and waited. Seconds
ticked by like months until the van moved close enough for him to check the
license plate. His heart fell. He turned back to the room to see Stubbs and
Maggie still standing at the doorway.
“Go dammit; go now.”
Stubbs took Maggie by the arm. They
disappeared into the hallway.
“Hayden, Julian, change of plans,” Aaron
said. “You both go over the roof.”
Aaron dashed to Hayden, pulled a Glock from his belt and
held it out. “Things might get dicey. Take this.”
Hayden shook his head.
They glared at each other, and
Aaron saw the emotions churning behind his brother’s eyes.
“Shit,” Aaron hissed, returning to
the window. He dropped the Glock beside the mirror and his wallet. As he picked
up the binoculars he wiped the sweat from his forehead before training the
binoculars down the hill.
The van chugged up the street. When
it reached the end of the block, the two Homeland HumVee-Xs dashed out of
hiding, again, to block the road. The van stopped as four uniformed men jumped
out of their vehicles. Two officers converged on the driver’s door, one barking
orders and the other standing off with his gun drawn. The other two sauntered
around the van, their M4s held at the ready. One officer walked to the driver’s
door and shined a flashlight on the driver, no doubt asking to see I.D. cards.
The driver’s window slid down; red flashes burst and shots rang out. The van
sped backward, spraying more shots. From the rooftops on both sides of the
street, spotlights sprang to life, casting theatrical beams on the van.
Machinegun fire cut the air, pelting the van with red tracers from above.
There was no way to help them.
Aaron waved at his team still standing in his living room. “Everybody! Go now,
over the roof! GO!”
They all rushed out the doorway,
except Hayden.
“Aren’t you coming?” Hayden asked
“I’m right behind you.”
“Brother, I’m simple, not stupid.”
“Look, dammit, they’ll be here any
second. Now go. Hurry!”
A crashing sound yanked Aaron’s
head back to the window. The van spun out of control, smashed into a parked
car, and flipped on its side. Bullets peppered the van for another half-minute.
The noise sounded like a twelve-foot string of firecrackers. Then it stopped,
leaving a stunned hush. No sign of life registered within the van. Two officers
lay on the street, motionless. Smoke rose through the beams of spotlights, a
shifting pall between the borders of light.
Suddenly, another noise cut the
silence—the throaty growl of an engine starting below Aaron’s window. Aaron
glanced down to see a man straddling his brother’s motorcycle. The lean figure
and dreadlocks were unmistakable. Hayden gunned the engine to get everyone’s
attention. The spotlights turned on him. He revved it once more and flew up the
street in the opposite direction.
“What the…?” Aaron whispered to an
empty room. On a hunch, he glanced at the coffee table, and his heart imploded.
His brown wallet, which held his I.D. card, was missing. In its place was
Hayden’s calf-skin wallet.
The screech of tires whipped
Aaron’s head back to the street. Two HumVee-Xs now blocked Hayden’s exit.
Uniformed men leaped from the vehicles with rifles drawn.
Hayden slid into a tight turn and
gunned the engine, rocketing him the opposite direction. He bent low over the
handlebars. But now he was barricaded in from both sides of the block. Hayden
came to a dead stop in the middle of the block. The searchlights zeroed in on
him, yellow and brilliant, catching him like Bambi in the headlights. Someone
shouted in a throaty voice. Two officers on each side of the block dropped to
one knee and raised their M4s to a firing position.
It appeared to be a stalemate.
Aaron knew his brother was drawing
all the attention on himself to give Aaron a clean getaway, but before he could
move the front door burst inward. Officers rushed in with weapons held at the
ready.
“Freeze, motherfucker!”
That's all we've got for you this week, folks.
If you'd like to read more of The Plain of Bitter Honey or any of Alan Chin's works, Please click on any of links beneath the book covers. my personal favorite of Alan's books is Daddy's Money. You can read my review here.
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| MATCH MAKER DADDY'S MONEY BUTTERFLY'S CHILD SIMPLE TREASURES THE LONELY WAR |
Alan, it's been wonderful having you here, thank you so much for sharing your story and your stories with us.