Archives for posts with tag: The Man Who Never Was

Hi all:

As you’ll remember, a few weeks ago I shared the previous versions of the cover for my first novel ‘The Man Who Never Was‘. Thanks so much for the replies that gave Lourdes (my friend and cover designer) and I plenty to go on and to think about.

Following on from that post, the book has a new cover, I have decided to change the categories (I don’t think it’ll ever easily fit anywhere, but as a friend and author [hi Martie!] said, we’ll have to keep waiting for the category for odd books to come alive). And looking back I remembered a series of posts that had a few of the characters of the book talking about themselves and the story. As at the time I didn’t know most of you, I thought I could leave you with the first one in the series, where Jesús, the main character, introduces us to… well his big entrance.

First, the cover:

The Man Who Never Was (cover by Lourdes Vidal)

The Man Who Never Was (cover by Lourdes Vidal)

Here, Jesús:

Have you ever wondered how your life would be if everybody judged you by the way you look? My name is Jesús and that’s the stuff my life is made of. I was born ugly. Extremely ugly. (Well, I guess I’m still ugly, but I’ve been seeing myself like this for so long that I no longer notice the ugliness. I’ve probably grown immune to it. On the other hand most of the people I meet notice…a lot. Double take and all).

My birth is the stuff of legend. The story is repeated like a mantra in all family occasions. You know: weddings, birthdays, christenings, burials…My mother, Adelina, who’ve never wanted to do things like everybody else, decided not to go to hospital. She wanted a home birth. She wasn’t married and was staying with her parents. No, I never met my father, but that’s a long story…Anyway, it seems that my mother was screaming like a banshee (the doctor was very late. He was a busy man, poor guy) and when I was finally born and my grandmother took me in her arms I gave her a big fright. I’ve never seen any pictures of that moment  (it seems nobody dared to take any considering my looks) but I’ve been reliably informed that I was all covered in black hair, head to toe.(At this point my grandmother always said: ‘like little monkey’ but she has to add, after the all important pause, ‘but uglier’) I didn’t cry and just opened my eyes, that have always been a bit special. My grandmother shouted ‘Jesús’ in her fright. She said I looked like the devil (not sure how many encounters she’d had with the devil, but she seemed very confident on that matter).

Nobody came up with a better name, and I was left with the name ‘Jesús’. It seems my mother liked it, and all agreed it might give me some protection.

I’ve lived all my life with people looking at me and expecting something malefic and special to manifest. It has been hard and it has made my life very complicated. All things considered, I don’t think that even if I had looked like Johnny Depp, my life would have been any less complicated.

The book is available in Amazon and a few  other places (I hope it will be available more widely. Hopefully, it’s only a matter of time).

http://bit.ly/1vHKIz7

Page Foundry:

http://bit.ly/1D6Ce6n

Scribd:

http://bit.ly/1be50dT

Apple:

http://apple.co/1bm2GlY

Kobo:

http://bit.ly/1zDn4nT

And just in case you want to keep abreast of any updates and other places where it will become available, I will be updating my website:

http://www.OlgaNM.com

Thanks so much for your help coming up with the cover, thanks for reading, and you know, like, share, comment, and if you want, CLICK!

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Hola a todos:

Como todo el mundo (supongo) ando haciendo varias cosas a la vez. Hace poco acabé una traducción (os contaré más la semana que viene), estoy traduciendo la tercera novela de mi serie juvenil (Pink, ¿ángel o demonio?), corrigiendo la traducción de la novela de otro autor, y gracias a Paloma Caral mi primera novela El hombre que nunca existió ha sido completamente revisada. Ya que estaba en ello decidí echarle un vistazo a la versión inglesa y a la portada, ya que en aquella época lo cierto es que fui a lo simple (que en sí no es malo….). Cuando busqué imágenes para usar para mi portada, y ya que la historia es un poco especial, acabé con un par que me parecieron interesantes. No sé exactamente por qué, pero use fotos distintas para las dos  portadas, la de la versión inglesa y la del la española. Aprovechando que voy a tener que hacer cambios, y que me gustaría cambiar el texto, he estado hablando con mi amiga Lourdes Vidal (que domina el Photoshop y se dedica a diseñar interiores cuando yo no le estoy dando la lata con los libros) y decidimos que sería mejor escoger una de las dos portadas y trabajar con esa. Entonces recordé que por aquel entonces yo había encontrado otra foto que me gustaba mucho, pero no conseguí hacerla encajar en la portada. Y pensé que os podría pedir la opinión. ¿Cuál os gusta más?

Ésta es la que usé para la versión inglesa:

Man English

Man English

Ésta la versión española:

Hombre

Hombre

Y ésta la imagen que nunca usé:

Model of businessman standing on leather shoe uid 1171195

Por si ayuda a tomar la decisión os dejo la descripción y el primer capítulo de la novela:

Descripción:

‘El hombre que nunca existió es una versión humorosa de la saga familiar y la novela de intriga política. Llena de personajes inolvidables y eventos extraordinarios, ésta es una novela como ninguna otra. Original, única, y excitante, les hará reir, llorar y preguntarse cuál es la solución al misterio central.
El protagonista, Jesús, es feo. Extraordinariamente feo. Tanto que su familia y conocidos están convencidos de que tal fealdad tiene que significar algo. Algún poder maléfico, o un destino especial. La verdad es que las cosas que suceden alrededor de Jesús son un poco especiales. Su padre biológico es todo un misterio. Lo único que llega a descubrir es que ha tenido otros hijos tan feos como él. Su hermana es una niña prodigio que alcanza la fama con todo lo que hace (escribir, actuar, trabajar para el gobierno), su madre se mete en política y llega a ser presidenta, su mejor amiga se convierte en una innovadora en tecnología de ordenador y llega a ser una de las mujeres de negocios con más éxito del país, a su cuñado también se le da bien la política. Por supuesto no es oro todo lo que reluce. También hay adulterios, hijos secretos, incesto…¿Y Jesús? A él se le dan bien los deportes, la banca, el mundo del cine, y a pesar de su fealdad, los que le conocen le quieren. Pero, ¿se puede ser feliz sin saber de dónde se viene?
Si los personajes de ‘Los Simpson’ se encontraran de repente en el set de ‘ El Ala Oeste’ sus aventuras encajarían perfectamente en ‘El hombre’.
Realismo Mágico y sátira política se combinan para crear una experiencia de lectura diferente. Atrévanse a probar algo distinto. No se arrepentirán.

1

Nacimiento

 

Adelina, Adela para sus amigos finos, era la chica más bella del pueblo. No sólo eso, sino que era la heredera de una familia rica y casi aristocrática, lo que aumentaba su atracción a los ojos de sus pretendientes. Los padres de sus amigos la adoraban y la ponían de ejemplo a sus hijos; entre las chicas era la más popular y la que dictaba la moda. Todos los hombres de una cierta edad la miraban con lujuria y los chicos la consideraban la tía más buena y deseable del lugar. Adela estaba en la carta a los Reyes Magos de todo el mundo y su lista de Romeos era casi tan larga como las Páginas Amarillas. Algún gracioso sugirió que la familia debería instalar un semáforo para evitar colisiones entre los hombres de su vida.

Con todas las idas y venidas, no fue de extrañar que su padre, don Severo, austero como su nombre indica, serio y poco dado a frivolidades, no tuviera ni la menor idea de quién era el bebé. Porque cuando Adelina, contra todas las reglas, consejos de las revistas de moda y de las famosas de turno, empezó a engordar a ojos vista y no quedó duda de que estaba embarazada. El hecho de que siempre hubiera estado delgada como un fideo aceleró las cosas y lo que al principio eran sólo rumores del servicio, pronto se convirtió en la comidilla de lo mejor, y lo peor, de la sociedad. Incluso su padre, que pasaba la mayoría del tiempo lejos de casa, ocupado con los negocios y distanciado de su familia, se dio cuenta de lo que todos los demás ya habían percibido. Don Severo rogó, amenazó e intentó sobornar y chantajear a su hija sin resultado alguno. Adelina se negó a revelar el nombre del padre de la criatura. Ni siquiera quiso hacer lo decente y tener un aborto, legal o turístico, como muchas de sus amigas. No, a ella no le importaba la vergüenza y la humillación que les traería a sus padres. Quería aquel niño y lo tendría. Nadie le había dicho nunca que no a Adelina y no estaba preparada a sentar un precedente.

El nacimiento del bebé fue un gran acontecimiento. La tozudez de Adelina triunfó de nuevo y se negó a ir al hospital.

—¡Estás loca! ¿Por qué no vas al hospital como todo el mundo?

Doña Remedios, su madre, le preguntó por millonésima vez, más y más desesperada cuanto más se acercaba el parto. Ella, como su marido, no era tan moderna como para entender conceptos como parto natural o la importancia de un ambiente acogedor para el recién nacido. De acuerdo que un parto es una cosa natural, pero no pensaba que tuviera que suponer un enorme dolor para la madre y una inconveniencia para la familia. ¿Cómo de acogedor podía ser para un bebé nacer rodeado de los aullidos de su madre con todo el mundo corriendo como lunáticos?

—Precisamente porque eso es lo que haría todo el mundo, eso no es para mí, no, de ninguna manera.

Adelina quería un nacimiento en casa. Había contado con un médico privado para solucionar cualquier imprevisto, pero con lo que no había contado era con lo ocupados que estaban los médicos porque la mayoría trabajaban en el sector público y privado a la vez.

Cuando, por fin, llegó su médico, lo único que pudo hacer fue examinar al recién nacido. El bebé, un niño, no era demasiado bonito y ni siquiera tenía aspecto saludable. Era pequeño, delgado, oscuro y cubierto de pelo negro de la cabeza a los pies como un cachorro de hombre lobo. Doña Remedios fue la primera que lo sujetó en los brazos. El bebé, que ni siquiera había llorado hasta entonces, abrió los párpados. Sus ojos, verdes con pintas amarillas y con pupilas alongadas como las de un gato, hicieron que su abuela exclamara:

—¡Jesús, tiene los ojos del diablo!

El comentario pasó a la leyenda y tradición familiar y siempre salía a relucir cuando discutían la selección de nombres porque Adelina, que estaba muy fresca y alerta después del parto, le dijo a su madre:

—¡Sí! ¡Jesús! ¡Eso es! ¡El nombre perfecto!

Doña Remedios miró a su hija.

—¿Jesús? Pero ese no es uno de los nombre de familia. ¿Y qué dirá la gente no religiosa? Podrían ofenderse.

—¿Y por qué? No le llamo Dios ni Jesucristo. Y los nombres bíblicos siempre han sido populares, y los nombres de profetas… De todas formas, el mundo está lleno de Mohammeds. ¿Por qué tengo yo que ser más respetuosa que los demás? Aunque Dios tiene un cierto no sé qué… O Satán… Lucifer no está nada mal.

—Jesús está bien, muy bien —dijo doña Remedios para evitar males mayores.

Se dijo a si misma que quizás el nombre le traería buena suerte al niño y le protegería del maligno destino que sus ojos parecían anunciar. Y como no cambiara de apariencia, el niño necesitaría toda la suerte que pudiera conseguir. No era feo, al menos no en un sentido convencional de la palabra. No tenía una nariz grande ni deformada, y los ojos, a pesar de su color tan peculiar y de una forma algo especial, no eran ni demasiado pequeños ni enormes y no estaban muy juntos. El pelo, que no le creció en la cabeza hasta que se le cayó del resto del cuerpo, era negro, brillante y crecía de punta, a pesar de los mejores esfuerzos de niñeras, peluqueros, parientes y médicos.

Don Severo decidió mantenerse a la espera y observar si con el tiempo el niño desarrollaría algún parecido con alguien conocido.

—¿A ti que te parece, Reme? ¿No crees que se parece un poco a aquel chico con el que Adelina salió? Ese Charlie, el mecánico

—¿Quieres decir el chico de los coches ruidosos? Me parece que era el dueño de un garaje, pero no, él era rubio, rubio de verdad.

—¿Estás segura de que no puedes convencerla para que te lo diga?

—Ya conoces a Adelina, nadie la puede obligar a hacer nada que no quiera.

—Ni siquiera estoy convencido de que ella misma sepa quién es el padre —dijo don Severo.

—¡Seve!

Adelina sabía quien era el padre, pero se empeñó en olvidarlo y, a base de intentarlo, al final de su vida insistiría en que Jesús era hijo suyo y de nadie más.

A pesar de lo fantástico y misterioso de sus orígenes, Jesús creció, aunque de manera muy lenta para la paciencia de su abuela y de su niñera, ya que Adelina volvió a su vida de antes. Leía novelas para chicas, iba a tomar café con las amigas y acudía a fiestas y a bailes. Era raro, ya que el pueblo era bastante anticuado y un escándalo como aquél hubiera manchado la reputación de la familia para siempre.

Adelina, incluso después del parto, seguía siendo la chica más guapa del lugar, su padre seguía siendo el más rico y todos los habitantes debieron llegar a la conclusión de que el nacimiento de Jesús fue el resultado de una conspiración diabólica que no había tenido nada que ver con Adelina, víctima inocente de la situación. Adelina abandonó a su hijo de igual manera que había abandonado juguetes, ropas y accesorios que ya no estaban de moda o de los que se había aburrido. Por supuesto, siempre estaba la cuestión de la expresión malévola del niño que hacía difícil que se integrara o lo aceptaran, ya que todo el mundo prefería mirarle a la cara lo mínimo imprescindible.

Jesús creció como un niño cualquiera, habló y caminó a la edad que le correspondía y sufrió las enfermedades de rigor, sin demostrar las características diabólicas que había predicho su abuela. Como el niño no veía en la casa a ningún otro hombre que a su abuelo, asumió que debía ser su padre. La primera vez que le llamó papá, don Severo no le oyó y no pasó nada. La segunda vez, mientras su abuelo leía las noticias financieras, le tiró de los pantalones.

—¿Qué pasa? —le preguntó don Severo apartando la vista del periódico.

—¿Papá?

Don Severo palideció y le abofeteó dos veces en las mejillas. Se levantó a toda prisa y se fue a la cocina.

—¡Qué demonios! ¡Yo no soy tu jodido padre!

Jesús podía oír los gritos que salían de la cocina mientras don Severo hablaba con su mujer.

—¡Ese niño me ha llamado papá! ¡Te lo puedes creer! ¿Qué demonios anda diciendo la gente?

—No hace falta enfadarse tanto. Nadie ha dicho nada semejante. El niño está confuso, debe haber notado que otros niños tienen padre y habrá pensado… ¡Pobrecito!

—¿Pobrecito? Te juro que si me lo llama otra vez…

Jesús era demasiado joven para entender la conversación, pero mayor para comprender que don Severo no era su padre y que esa no era la solución al enigma de su nacimiento. Parecía que, a diferencia de otros niños, él no tenía padre.

Durante los primeros años de su vida, se había formado una leyenda con él de protagonista. Todo el mundo sabía lo que había dicho su abuela cuando le vio abrir los ojos por vez primera, y la gente que lo había visto susurraba que, en efecto, parecía el hijo del diablo. La verdad era que exageraban un poco. De lo que no cabía duda era que el niño se parecía a un malo de los cómics antiguos o de las películas del oeste. Algunos optimistas insistían en que tenía futuro en las series de la tele, si no le importaba encasillarse.

Cuando Jesús tenía 5 años, su madre llegó a casa una noche y entró en el comedor donde sus padres y su hijo cenaban. Después de una pausa para aumentar la emoción, les sonrió y dijo:

—¡Tengo noticias! ¡Muy buenas noticias! ¡Me caso!

A don Severo se le cayó el tenedor, Doña Remedios se atragantó y Jesús siguió jugueteando con la comida. Nunca le habían gustado las acelgas.

—¿Quién es el afortunado? ¿Te casas con su padre? —preguntó don Severo mirando a Jesús.

—¿Su padre? ¿Estás loco? ¡Por supuesto que no! ¿Para qué iba a hacer algo así? No, me caso con Senén.

—¿Quién? —don Severo había abandonado cualquier intento de estar al corriente de los jóvenes con los que salía su hija.

—¿Senén, el hijo del alcalde? —doña Remedios siempre había estado más dotada para el cotilleo que su marido y le sonaba el nombre. Senén era un chico bastante guapo. Lo habría heredado de su madre, porque el alcalde no era precisamente Brad Pitt.

Adelina asintió.

—Eso no está mal —dijo don Severo. El alcalde, don Raúl, también era rico y de buena familia. No tan buena como la suya, por supuesto, pero considerando el comportamiento de Adelina, no era un mal enlace. Mucho mejor de lo que hubiera esperado.

—Tendremos que organizar una fiesta de compromiso —dijo doña Remedios, levantándose de la mesa para ir a consultar las revistas.

—No creo que haya tiempo para todo eso. Lo que tenemos que organizar sin pérdida de tiempo —dijo Adelina, sonriendo porque sí, estaba de nuevo embarazada.

Todo fue algo precipitado. A pesar de los mejores esfuerzos de doña Remedios debido a la notoriedad de las dos familias, la organización llevó más tiempo del previsto, y cuando llegó el día de la boda no había duda alguna de que Adelina estaba embarazada. Tuvo el bebé, esta vez en un hospital, poco después de su regreso de la luna de miel. Habían decidido con antelación que los recién casados se trasladarían a vivir con el alcalde, quien se había quedado viudo hacía unos años y quería compañía. Además, Adelina no tenía muchas ganas de quedarse con sus padres y don Raúl, el padre de Senén, tenía un cocinero fabuloso. Su familia había mantenido empleada a la niñera de Senén, Felisa, de modo que la niña se llamó Estefanía porque a su madre le encantaban las revistas de famosos y creyó que el nombre le traería buena suerte.

Jesús estaba contento con lo sucedido, ya que creía que Senén podía ser su padre, porque no había prestado atención al comentario de Adelina cuando anunció que se casaba. Decidió preguntarle a Senén, ya que Adelina siempre evitaba dar respuestas concretas cuando le preguntaba algo sobre su paternidad. En una de las muchas tardes, en las cuales Adelina se iba de compras con sus amigas y Senén se quedaba viendo el canal de deportes, Jesús decidió que era el momento adecuado. Debido a la reacción de su abuelo cuando le llamó papá, pensó que esa no era una buena estrategia, así que le preguntaría directamente.

—Senén, ¿eres mi papá?

—¿Yo, tu padre? No conocí a tu madre hasta después de que tú hubieras nacido. Bastante más tarde, para ser exactos. ¿Y cómo se te ocurre que yo pudiera tener un niño con una cara como la tuya? ¿Me has mirado bien? ¿Y a tu madre? Debió haber estado borracha aquella noche. Eso o estaba muy oscuro. Tío, te juro que si hubiera tenido un hijo con una cara como esa me mataba. Pero si me quieres llamar papá, no hay problema, siempre que no haya alguien delante.

Jesús llegó a la conclusión de que Senén era el padre de su hermana, pero no el suyo, y que quizás jamás llegaría a tener padre propio. Con respecto a la oferta de llamarle papá, decidió pensárselo. De todas formas, padre o no, Jesús adoraba a su hermana, quien había sido mucho más afortunada con su aspecto físico. Era tan bonita como su madre, quizás más, y todo el mundo decía que ahora Adelina había dado a luz a un ángel para compensar.

Jesús, con su cara peligrosa y cruel, tenía que soportar bromas y chistes de niños y adultos. Aunque era por naturaleza pacífico y no le gustaban las peleas y la violencia, se vio envuelto en peleas debido al acoso escolar y se ganó la reputación de violento y peligroso, aunque él creía que sólo era valiente. Se unió a una banda de chicos de la escuela, los más traviesos y problemáticos, los únicos que le aceptaron, pero tuvo que dejarlo, ya que con su cara le echaban las culpas de todo lo que pasaba, incluso de cosas con las que no tenía nada que ver. A pesar de todo, Jesús seguía siendo un optimista y confiaba en un futuro feliz.

Senén, a quien su padre siempre había intentado encaminar hacia el mundo de la política, tuvo una idea o «una idea» como él diría, haciendo gestos con los dedos y decidió formar un partido político. Se lo comentó a su padre, que siempre había sido su confidente en cosas serias y masculinas y le encontró en uno de sus usuales períodos de reposo postpandrial en la biblioteca cuando se empeñaba en decir que estaba leyendo, aunque, por lo general, consistía en adormilarse después de beber algo de alcohol y fumar un cigarro.

—No es tan complicado y creo que lo tengo todo a mi favor, no puedo fallar. Nuestra situación financiera es muy holgada —resumió Senén.

—Incluso mejor que el triste día en que tus suegros nos abandonen.

Senén asintió. También se le había ocurrido, aunque, por supuesto, quería muchísimo a don Severo y doña Remedios.

—Adelina es muy bella, tiene mucho estilo y todo el mundo la adoran. Será una gran baza. Además, Estefanía es preciosa y lista, y muy adelantada para su edad  Y no quiero hablar de mí, pero siempre he tenido don de gentes, estudié Derecho y Políticas en una buena universidad.

—Sí, ya lo sé, las mujeres siempre te han encontrado irresistible, pero me parece que te has olvidado de un par de cosas.

—¿Cuáles?

—Para empezar, de tus ideas políticas. Dime, ¿de qué tendencia eres? ¿Hay alguna idea en particular que quieras promover?

Senén miró a su padre para comprobar si bromeaba. Estaba sentado en su sofá favorito, cigarro en la mano derecha, brandy en la izquierda, con aspecto muy serio.

—¿Ideas políticas? ¿Y eso importa? Las que me lleven adonde quiero llegar. Creo que las ideas políticas hoy en día no son tan importantes como hace años. Yo no veo ninguna diferencia palpable entre partidos que se llaman de derechas o de izquierdas. La gente y las personalidades son las que ganan las elecciones. El envoltorio y la marca son más importantes que el producto en una sociedad de consumo. Con la imagen adecuada estoy seguro de que triunfaré, sea cual sea mi orientación política. Seguramente, seré liberal, con énfasis en el medioambiente, que estos días lo verde es muy popular y hay que hablar del medioambiente todo el tiempo, pero apoyando valores tradicionales, aunque respetando la diversidad y multiplicidad étnica. También pondré atención en la salud y en la educación. Por supuesto, nos mantendremos flexibles. Si las cosas no funcionan, siempre podré cambiar el enfoque para atraer más votos.

—Ya veo —dijo don Severo—. Un poco de esto, un poco de aquello y nada de sustancia. Flexibilidad y adaptabilidad ayudan cuando no se tienen ni honestidad ni principios.

Senén volvió a mirar a su padre perplejo. Nunca le había percibido en su progenitor ni honestidad ni integridad en los negocios o la política, y se rumoreaban cosas bastante feas sobre su vida privada, aunque él había preferido no indagar a fondo. De todas formas, nunca se puede confiar en la palabra de honor de un político.

Justo entonces, don Raúl se puso a reír.

—Te estoy tomando el pelo, Senén. Por supuesto que tienes razón, tu programa suena fantástico. Supongo que sólo quieres ser senador. No, ¿por qué no presidente? Si Reagan y Bush Jr. han sido presidentes de los Estados Unidos, ¿por qué no tú? Eres más atractivo, más joven, más dinámico y más saludable de lo que Reagan fue jamás. Y Bush, de acuerdo, no eres miembro de MENSA, pero comparado con Bush, eres Einstein. Por supuesto, Obama es algo distinto. Bueno, quizás no seas tan distinto, aparte del color, y tú y Adelina sois más guapos que los Obama. Y esto no es América. Aquí los cuelgues de la gente son distintos.

Senén sonrió a su padre, aunque no entendió del todo la conclusión de su parrafada, pero recordó que su padre había mencionado dos cosas.

—¿Y segundo?

—¿Segundo? —El alcalde se quedó callado, pero finalmente añadió: —Ah, sí, Jesús.

Senén se había olvidado de Jesús. Eso era algo más complicado. Una esposa con un hijo sin padre reconocido, por muy hermosa que fuera, no era una gran ventaja para una carrera política, generalmente en los inicios y de manera particular en un país que aún era un poco patriarcal. Las cosas habían mejorado mucho, pero si él tuviera un hijo secreto sería algo distinto. Le hubiera dado una reputación más interesante. Pero Jesús… Quizás si iniciaran el rumor de que Jesús era hijo de alguien conocido, un torero o un cantante famoso o un actor, las mujeres se volverían locas. Pero con una cara como la suya nadie se lo creería, y siempre estaba el pequeño detalle de que no tenía la menor idea de quién era hijo.

Senén había estado tan encandilado con Adelina que no había insistido en que le contara quién era el padre. Ahora necesitaba la ayuda de su esposa y ella tenía la sartén por el mango y lo sabía. Nunca se lo diría.

Dejar al niño con los abuelos en el pueblo era una opción, pero Adelina jamás aceptaría. Ella quería estar presente si se manifestaban sus poderes diabólicos. Todas las madres se quejan en algún momento de que sus niños son diablillos, pero Adelina quería el reconocimiento que se merecía si su hijo era de verdad el diablo. De lo más profundo de sus filones intelectuales, Senén extrajo una posible solución: caridad. Caridad era una buena cualidad para los políticos. Demostraría que tenían corazón y se preocupaba de la gente. Pero lo haría en el momento adecuado, porque con la crisis la paciencia de la gente para grandes gestos se estaba acabando. Podían decir que habían adoptado a Jesús cuando sus padres, amigos de la familia, se murieron. Arreglar el papeleo no sería demasiado difícil, ya que su padre era alcalde y eso para algo había de servir. Por supuesto, los vecinos del pueblo sabrían la verdad, pero ellos no se quedarían allí cuando todo estuviera arreglado. Además, a la gente siempre se la podía comprar o silenciar si fuera necesario.

Decidió contárselo a Adelina.

—¡Adelina! ¡Adela!

—¡Sí, cariño!

Ella llevaba uno de sus modelitos sexys. Senén se preguntó por qué llevaría algo así a media tarde, pero sus hormonas se dispararon y tuvo problemas manteniendo la concentración.

—Adelina, he tenido una idea.

—Sigue, sigue. ¿Es sucia? —le preguntó, poniendo los brazos alrededor de su cintura y enganchándose a él como una lapa.

–No ese tipo de idea —dijo él, intentando desengancharse—. Necesito hacer algo. Cariño, para, hablo en serio. Estaba hablando con mi padre y he pensado que estaría bien formar un partido político. Tenemos dinero y somos la pareja más atractiva del pueblo.

—¡Y no tenemos escrúpulos! —Adelina interrumpió el ataque a su marido y se sentó en el sillón—. Sí, tú tienes suficiente cerebro, aunque no se necesita mucho de eso. ¿Qué dijo tu padre?

—Piensa que es una buena idea. Hemos hablado de la orientación política.

—Eso no importa mucho estos días.

Senén sonrió. Adelina y él estaban sincronizados en muchos aspectos.

—Pero mencionó a Jesús y podría quedarse aquí.

Adelina negó con la cabeza.

—Sabes mi opinión sobre ese tema, lo hemos discutido muchas veces. Le quiero cerca para poder estar al día de los acontecimientos.

—Pero no puedes creer de verdad que él vaya a ser especial, ¿no?

Adelina sonrió de una manera que siempre hacía que Senén se sintiera como un idiota.

—De acuerdo, pero se me ha ocurrido una idea que puede funcionar y nos hará quedar bien en lugar de…

—De hacerme quedar como una fulana.

—Podríamos decir que sus padres murieron, que eran amigos nuestros y que lo adoptamos por la bondad de nuestro corazón.

—¿Pero la gente de aquí? Bueno, no nos quedaríamos aquí. ¡Podría funcionar! ¡Gran idea! Viajar, conocer a gente famosa, la tele. ¡Debo ir de compras!

—¿Crees que le importará a Jesús?

—¿A Jesús? No, estará contento de dejar este lugar y tener un poco más de espacio. Más gente, más oportunidades de que su apariencia pase desapercibida. Y con esa historia al menos tiene un padre, aunque sea un difunto.

Don Raúl sonrió cuando Senén le contó su idea sobre Jesús y dijo que arreglaría todos los trámites. Se libraría de Jesús, que le daba escalofríos cada vez que le veía. Por supuesto, se volvería a quedar solo, pero valía la pena con tal de no volver a ver a Jesús. Además, estaría apoyando la carrera de su hijo. Uno debe ser generoso con cuestiones de familia.

Todo fue muy rápido y sin contratiempos. Un mes más tarde se marcharon con una montaña de maletas a la gran ciudad o, para ser más precisos, a la capital. Fue el principio de su gran aventura en la ciudad.

Muchas gracias  a todos por leer (y ayudarme a escoger), a Lourdes y a Paloma por el trabajo en equipo, y por favor, si os gusta, pues eso, pero sobre todo, comentad, compartid, y si queréis más información sobre la novela, sí hay enlaces al lado pero también hay varios posts con información sobre ella de cuando la publiqué, en el blog, incluyendo entrevistas con los personajes, etc. Ah, y si tenéis sugerencias sobre el tipo de letra, también se agradecen. 

Hi all:

Apart from working on my WIP (currently I’m translating the third novel in the series to Spanish) and translating and editing some other books (I’ll tell you about my new translation next week) I’ve been looking at my older books. The Spanish version of my first novel The Man Who Never Was has undergone some revision and as I was thinking of the book, I wondered about the cover, that originally was my own effort. I’ve been talking to my friend Lourdes who has a very good hand with designs (she does interior design) and knows Photoshop in an out and I asked her to have a look at the original covers, with the idea of, at least, changing the text. But, at the time, not sure why now, other than because I liked the two images, I used a different image for each cover, the Spanish and the English one, and I wanted to ask  you which one do you prefer.

To add to the mix, originally I had found another image I really liked, but with my lack of skills I didn’t manage to make it work, but now that might be another possibility.

These are the images:

This is the one I used for the English version:

Man English

Man English

For the Spanish version I used this one:

Hombre

Hombre

And this is the other image, that I never used:

Model of businessman standing on leather shoe uid 1171195To help in the decision (or confuse matters more, who knows) I thought I’d leave you the description and the first chapter.

Description:

The Man Who Never Was

The protagonist, Jesús, is ugly. Extraordinarily ugly. He is so ugly that his friends and relatives are convinced that behind that ugliness there must be something else. A malefic power or possiblyr a momentous fate. The truth is that fairly special things happen wherever Jesús is. His biological father is a mystery. He only manages to discover that he seems to have fathered quite a few other extremely ugly boys like him during his career. His sister (half-sister) is a child-prodigy who excels at everything she does (writing, career in foreign relations, acting…), his mother becomes the president of the country, his own bank is successful, his best-friend Vero is a computer tycoon, his brother-in-law also makes it in politics…But for all the success and money around him he still feels unsettled. He tries sports, banking, cinema but nothing provides the answers he wants. Who was his father? This is a family saga where everything goes: from politics to retirement homes, from sport to cinema, from adultery to incest but nothing is taken too seriously.

If you enjoyed Isabel Allende’s ‘House of the Spirits’ and love ‘The West Wing’, combined with a touch of comedy, this is your book!

First Chapter:

1. Birth

Adelina (Adele for her posh friends) was the most beautiful girl in the village. Not only that, but she was the heiress of a very well-off and quasi-aristocratic family, and that increased her appeal for prospective beaux. She was beloved by the parents of all her friends; she was fashionable and popular with the girls; she was lusted after by men of a certain age. And she was considered hot-property by guys her own age. Adele was in everybody’s wish list, and her list of Romeos was nearly as long as the Yellow Pages. Some witty person had suggested that her family needed a system of traffic lights to avoid fatal crashes for the men in her life.

With all the comings and goings, her father, Don Severo, who was austere, serious, and not given to frivolities, didn’t have a clue of who the father might be. Because when Adelina started gaining weight, against all the rules and regulations of the fashion magazines and celebrities of the moment, it became quite evident that she was pregnant. Her always having been thin as a stick only accelerated matters, and what initially was gossip amongst the help soon became common knowledge of the best (and worst) of society. Even her father, Don Severo, who was always away, busy with business, and distant from his family and everyday life, finally realised what everybody had noticed ages before. He begged, he threatened, he tried and bribe his daughter, but all to no avail. She refused point blank to reveal the name of the father of the creature. And she didn’t even want to do the decent thing and have an abortion (legal maybe by pulling some strings, or a touristy one) like many of her friends. No, she didn’t care about the shame and embarrassment she might bring upon her parents. She wanted that child, and she’d have it. Nobody had ever said no to Adelina, and she wasn’t prepared to set a precedent in that occasion.

The birth was a big event. Adelina’s stubbornness had won again and she had refused to go to a hospital.

“You’re mad! Why won’t you go to hospital like everybody else?” Doña Remedios, her mother, asked for the millionth time, in desperation, as the birth got closer and closer. Doña Remedios, like her husband, was quite traditional and not trendy enough to understand concepts like natural birth or the importance of a friendly environment for the newborn. Birth might be natural, but she didn’t think it should be a pain for the mother or an inconvenience for the mother’s family. How friendly can it be for a baby to be born to her mother’s screaming her head off and everybody running around like lunatics?

“Precisely because that’s what everybody else would do. That won’t do for me. No.”

She wanted a home-birth. She had counted on their private medical care to provide in case of any problems, but not on how busy doctors were (especially as most of them worked both in the public and the private sector). By the time their physician turned up he was only able to examine the new born. He didn’t look particularly pretty or even wealthy. He was small, thin, very dark, and all covered in black hair, like a tiny werewolf. Doña Remedios was the first one to hold him in her arms. Immediately, the baby, who hadn’t even cried, opened his eyelids. His eyes, green with yellow sparks, and with elongated pupils like a cat’s, made his grandmother gasp and say: ‘Jesus! He has the devil’s eyes!’

That comment became part of the family’s lore and was always mentioned when discussing their choice of names, because Adelina, who was notably fresh and alert after giving birth, told her mother:

“Yes! Jesús! That’s it! Perfect name!”

Remedios looked at her daughter.

“Jesús? But…That’s not one of the traditional names in the family. And what about non-religious or Christian people? They might find it offensive.”

“But why? I’m not calling him God. And people have always used Biblical names, and names of prophets…Anyway, the world is full of Mohammeds, so why should I be that respectful?…Although God…has a ring to it…Or…Satan…Lucifer…”

“Jesús will be fine. Sure.” Remedios agreed to avoid even worse. And she reflected that maybe it would bring the child good luck and protect him from whatever fate those eyes seemed to announce. And unless his looks changed, he would need all the luck he could get. He wasn’t ugly, not in a conventional sense. He didn’t have a bent or big nose, and the eyes, despite their peculiar colour, weren’t either too small or too big, not too close to each other. His hair, that didn’t grow in his head until it fell off the rest of his body, was black, shiny, and growing straight, in spite of the best efforts of nannies, hairdressers, relatives and doctors.

Don Severo observed and waited to see if the boy would grow up to show any resemblance to anybody.

“What do you think, Reme? Don’t you think he looks a bit like that boy she went out with…Charlie? The garage guy?”

“You mean the guy with the noisy cars? No, he was blond. Real blond too.”

“I don’t know…Are you sure you can’t make her tell you?”

“You know Adelina. Nobody can make her do anything she doesn’t have a mind to.”

“You know? I’m not sure she even knows who the father is?”

“Seve…”

Adelina knew perfectly well who the father was, but she worked hard to forget it, and by the end of her life she would insist that Jesús was her child and hers only.

However fantastic or mysterious his origins, Jesús grew up, but annoyingly slow for his grandmother and his nanny, because her mother went back to her previous life. She read chick-lit, went for tea or coffee with her friends, and attended balls and parties. It was somewhat peculiar, as the village was quite old-fashioned and normally a scandal like that tainted individuals and families for ever. But Adelina, even after the birth, was still the prettiest of the place, her father was still the wealthiest, and all the inhabitants seemed to reach the conclusion that Jesús’s birth was the result of some evil conspiracy and it had nothing to do with Adelina who was an innocent victim of the situation. And Adelina abandoned her son in the same way she had previously abandoned toys, clothes and accessories when they weren’t fashionable anymore or she grew bored of them. Of course, there was always the matter of the child’s malevolent expression that made him very difficult to fit in or be accepted, as people didn’t want to look at his face for any longer than necessary.

Jesús grew up like any other child, walking and talking at the normal ages, and suffering all the usual illnesses, without demonstrating in any way the evil nature his grandmother had predicted. Because the child didn’t see any other man in the house but his grandfather, he assumed he must be his father. The first time he called him Dad, Don Severo didn’t hear him and nothing happened. On the second occasion, while his grandfather was reading the financial news, he pulled at his trousers. Don Severo looked down at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Dad?”

Don Severo paled and slapped him twice on the cheeks before getting up and storming past him to the kitchen, saying:

“What the hell? I’m not your fucking father!”

Jesús could hear shouting from inside the kitchen. Don Severo was talking to his wife.

“That child called me Dad! Can you believe that! What on earth have people been saying?”

“There’s no need to get so angry. Nobody has been saying such a thing. He’s just confused. He must have noticed other children have a father and he thought…Poor thing.”

“Poor thing? I tell you, if he calls me that again…”

Luckily Jesús was too young to understand the full conversation, but he was old enough to understand that Don Severo wasn’t his father and that wasn’t the solution to the enigma of his birth. It seemed that, in contrast with the other boys, he didn’t have a father.

During the first years of his life, a legend had grown about him. Everybody knew what his grandmother had said when she had first seen him open his eyes, and the people who’d seen him whispered that he looked like the devil’s son indeed. The truth was they were exaggerating somewhat. There was no denying, though, that the child looked like a cartoon or old-Western baddie. Some optimistic people insisted that he could have a profitable career in a TV soap. That is, if he didn’t mind getting typecast.

When Jesús was five years old his mother came home one evening and entered the dining room, where her parents and her son were having tea. She smiled at them and said:

“I have some news! Great news! I’m getting married!”

Don Severo dropped his fork, Doña Remedios nearly chocked, but Jesús carried on playing with his food. He’d never really liked broccoli.

“Who is the lucky  one? Are you marrying his father?” Don Severo asked, looking at Jesús.

“His father? Are you mad? Of course not! Why would I want to do such a thing? No, I’m marrying Senén.”

“Who?” Don Severo had given up on trying to keep up with all the young men she was dating.

“Senén…The mayor’s son?” Doña Remedios, who’d always been better at gossip-related activities, asked. Quite a handsome boy. He’d taken after his mother, because the mayor wasn’t precisely a picture.

Adelina nodded.

“Well…That’s not too bad.” Don Severo said. The mayor, Don Raúl, was also quite rich and from a good family. Not as good as theirs, of course, but considering Adelina’s behaviour, it was quite a good match. Better than he would have dared to hope for.

“We’ll have to organise an engagement party and…” Doña Remedios said, getting up from the table ready to check her magazines.

“I don’t think we’ll have time for all that. What we need to organise, and rather quickly, is the wedding.” Adelina said, beaming, or should we say glowing? Because yes, she was pregnant again.

It was all a bit of a rush. Despite Doña Remedios’s bests efforts due to the notoriety of the two families things took a fair amount of organising, and by the time of the wedding there was no doubt that Adelina was pregnant again. She had the baby, this time in hospital, shortly after their return from the honeymoon. They had decided beforehand that the newlyweds would move in with the mayor, who had lost his wife a few years earlier and wanted some company. Also, Adelina wasn’t that keen on staying at her parents, and Don Raúl, Senén’s father, had a fantastic cook. And they had always kept his nanny, Felisa, in employment, so… The little girl was called Stephanie, because her mother loved women’s magazines and thought the name might bring her good luck. Jesús was really happy with all the events, as he believed Senén might be his father, as he hadn’t paid much attention to Adelina’s comment when she announced her wedding. He decided to ask Senén directly, as Adelina had always been vague in her replies as to his parenthood. One of the many afternoons when Adelina had gone shopping with friends and Senén was watching the Sports Channel Jesús decided to broach the subject. Due to his grandfather’s reaction he felt calling him dad wasn’t a good approach. He went for direct questioning.

“Senén? Are you my dad?”

“Me? Your dad? I never met your mother until after you were born. Quite a long time after, if you want the truth. And how can you imagine I could possibly have a child with a face like yours? Have you looked at me? And at your mother? She must have been very drunk that night. Either that or it was very dark. Mate, in all honesty, if I had a child with such a face I’d kill myself. But…if you want to call me Dad, that’s fine, as far as there’s no one around.”

Jesús understood that Senén was his sister’s father, not his, and that he might never have his own father. Regarding the offer to call him Dad, he decided to think about it. Anyway, father or no father Jesús adored his sister, who had been much luckier in the looks department. She was as pretty as her mother had been at her age, possibly even more, and everybody was saying that Adelina had now given birth to an angel, to balance things out.

Jesús, with his cruel and dangerous-looking face, had to bear jokes and taunts from children and grown-ups. Although he was by nature a pacifist and disliked fights and violence, due to all the persecution and bullying, he got involved in fights quite a few times, and got a reputation of violent and dangerous, although he believed he was only brave. He joined a gang of children from school, amongst the naughtiest and most troublesome, the only ones who accepted him, but he had to quit it, because with his face he was blamed for any misdeeds that happened. Even the ones he had nothing to do with.

In spite of all that, Jesús was an optimist and believed his future would be happy. Senén, whose father had always tried to guide him towards the world of politics, had had an idea. Or “an idea” as he’d say, finger twitching and all. He had decided that he should create a political party. He resolved to tell his father, who had always been his confidant in serious and manly things. He caught him at one of his usual after meals rest periods in the library that he insisted in calling reading, but mostly consisted of napping after some alcohol and smoking.

“It isn’t so complicated. And I think I have all the cards in my hand. I can’t fail. We have a comfortable financial situation.” Senén explained.

“Even better the sad day when your in-laws…are no longer.”

Senén nodded. That had also crossed his mind, although, of course, he really loved Don Severo and Doña Remedios.

“And Adelina, my wife, is beautiful, and has a sense of style, and all, men and women, adore her, and she’ll be a great asset. And Stephanie…she’s gorgeous, and clever, and so advanced for her age! And…I don’t want to talk about me, but…I’ve always been good with people, studied Law and Politics at a good university, and…”

“Yes, and women have always been after you because they find you irresistible. I know, I know. That’s all true. You aren’t wrong. But I think you’ve forgotten a couple of things.”

“What?”

“First: your politics. I mean, what is your political option? Any particular ideas you want to promote?”

Senén looked at his father, to see if he was joking. No, he was sitting at his favourite sofa, cigar in right hand, brandy on his left, looking terribly serious.

“Politics? Does it really matter? Whatever will get me where I want to be. I don’t think nowadays political ideas are that very important. I can’t myself see any difference between parties professing to be right or left wing. It’s people and personalities who win elections. The packaging is more important than the product in a consumerist society. With the right image I’m sure I’d make it whatever I decide my political tenets are. Liberal, eco-friendly, because green is very popular at the moment and you have to talk environment all the time, but supporting traditional values, although with respect for diversity. And an emphasis on health and education. Of course we’ll remain flexible. If things don’t work well we can always change our ideas mid-way if that will attract more voters.”

“Oh, I see. Wishy-washy. It will do. Flexibility and adaptability are good when there is neither honesty nor principles.”

Senén again looked at his father, perplexed. He’d never noticed his father’s honesty or integrity in business or politics in the past. And there were some ugly rumours about his personal life, but he’d never wanted to ask. Anyway, you can never trust the word of honour of a politician. Just then, Don Raúl started laughing.

“I’m pulling your leg, Senén. Of course you’re right. Your programme sounds great. I imagine you only want to be a senator. Or MEP…No, not that…Or…let’s not stop there. Why not President? If Reagan and Bush Jr. have been presidents in the USA, why not you? You are definitely far more attractive and younger, dynamic and in better health than Reagan ever was, and if you’d tried I’m sure you’d also have been a better actor. No sweat. And Bush…OK,  you aren’t a member of MENSA, but compared to Bush…Einstein ”

Senén laughed and his father did the same. But then he remembered his father had a second but.

“And second?”

“Second?” The mayor looked puzzled, but suddenly remembered. “Oh yes, second. Jesús.”

He’d forgotten Jesús. That was a bit more complicated. A wife with a child out of wedlock, however beautiful, wasn’t much of an ace in a political career, especially one at its very beginning. Particularly in their country that was still a bit…male-centred. Things had improved notably, but…If he’d had a secret son…that would have been different. It would have given him some cache. But Jesús…Maybe if they started a rumour that Jesús was the son of somebody famous, a bullfighter, or a famous singer, or an actor, women would go crazy. But, with such a face nobody would believe it. And, there was the little detail that he didn’t really have any idea whose child he was. Senén had been so taken by Adelina at first that he hadn’t insisted in her telling him who the father was. And now…he needed her and she had the upper hand and knew it. She’d never tell him now. Still…Leaving him with his grandparents at the village was an option, but Adelina would never accept. It wasn’t because of her concern about the child’s welfare. But she wanted to be present if and when his diabolical powers manifested. All mothers complain at some point of their children being little devils, but Adelina wanted full credit if her son was real evil. From the deepest of Senén’s intellectual recesses he extracted a possible solution. Charity. Charity was a good thing for a politician. It showed he had a heart. But one needed to get into the wagon in time, because people’s patience for grand gestures was wearing thin. They could say they had adopted Jesús when his parents, family friends, died. Sorting out the paperwork wouldn’t be that difficult. His father was the mayor after all, and that had some advantages. Of course people in the village knew the truth, but they wouldn’t be staying there once everything was sorted. And people could always be bought. Or silenced, if necessary. He decided to tell Adelina.

“Adelina! Adele!”

“Yes, darling!”

She was wearing one of her sexy numbers. Senén wondered, for a second or two, why she’d be wearing that in the middle of the afternoon, but then his hormones took over and he had problems keeping down to business.

“Adelina…I’ve had an idea.”

“Go on. Is it dirty?” She asked, putting her arms around his waist and wrapping herself around him dangerously close.

“Not that kind of idea.” He said, trying to disentangle himself. “I need something to do…Stop that. I’m trying to be serious. No, politics. I was talking to my father. Why not form a political party? We have money, we are the most attractive couple in town…”

“And we have no scruples. Yes, I see. You have a point.” She stopped her advances towards her husband and sat down on the sofa. “Yes, you have enough brains, not that one needs much on that department and…What did your father say?”

“He thinks it’s a good idea. We talked about politics.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter much nowadays.”

Senén smiled. Adelina and he were in synch in more ways than one.

“But he mentioned Jesús. You wouldn’t want to leave him behind, would you?”

Adelina shook her head.

“You know my feelings on that. We’ve discussed it enough times. I want him near enough to keep watch on any developments.”

“You can’t really believe he’s going to be…special in any way, can you?”

Adelina smiled in a way that always made Senén feel like an idiot.

“OK. Fine. But I came up with an idea that might work and make us look good rather…”

“Than make me look like a slut. OK, shoot.”

“We could say his parents died, they were our friends, and we adopted him out of the kindness of our hearts.”

“But people here…Of course we wouldn’t stay here…Yes, it could work. Great idea! Travelling, meeting all famous people, TV…Must go shopping!”

“Do you think Jesús will mind?”

“Jesús? No. He’ll be happy to leave this place and have a bit of space. More people, more opportunities to go unnoticed in the looks department. And with that story at least he gets to have a father, even if it’s a dead one.”

Don Raúl smiled when Senén told him his idea about Jesús and said he’d sort the paperwork out. Maybe all the education hadn’t been completely wasted after all!

And he’d get rid of Jesús who gave him a chill every time he saw him. Of course he’d go back to being on his own, but it was a small price to pay to not see Jesús again. And he’d be supporting his son’s career. One had to be generous when it came to one’s family. At least that was his excuse.

Everything went notably smoothly and quickly. A morning about a month later they left with their mountains of luggage towards the big city, or, to be more precise, towards the capital. They were very impressed on arrival. They all had an opinion. How many votes! How chic! How many kids! Guaaaaa! That was the beginning of their great adventure in the city.
Thank  you all for reading, and please like (if you want), but especially, share, and comment. There are a number of posts I wrote including interviews with characters and all manner of things shortly after publication if you want to read more about it, and links to the book on the side, although a new cover might be coming soon. All feedback greatly appreciated! Ah, and suggestions for the choice of font will also be welcome! 

 

Hi all:

As you will have noticed, recently I’ve been talking to  you a bit (well, a lot) about my new novel. And I thought it was time to tell you a bit about my projects instead.

A couple of years ago (give or take) I wrote the first in what I planned to be a Young Adult series (at least a trilogy). Angelic Business. I decided to call the first novel Pink MattersI spent some time trying to find an agent, with very little result (yes we like it but not enough, no, we don’t like it), and as a result of the research I did at the time I discovered the option of self-publishing, and as life is too short, I decided to give it a go. Instead of publishing that novel, I went for one I’d been working on for a long time an had also translated in Spanish and English (The Man Who Never Was). I carried on publishing other stories but never abandoned the thought of the series, to the point where a few months ago I wrote the second novel (Shapes of Greg).

Thinking about the third novel and looking for angelic inspiration, it occurred to me to create a board in Pinterest on the subject and of course I found many pins. I also realised cemeteries have plenty of sculpture of angels, and decided to go off taking as many pictures as possible.

Angel in the cemetery of Poble Nou in Barcelona.

Angel in the cemetery of Poble Nou in Barcelona.

Here is the link to my board about angels in Pinterest:

http://www.pinterest.com/olganm7/angels/

During my recent visit to Florence I also went chasing after angels (and cupids and Eros. Plenty of them).

Ooooh! Sweet!

Ooooh! Sweet!

 

I’m not sure if you remember that I’d shared a bit of the first novel already, but just in case, I leave you the first chapter (sorry, no angels yet):

Chapter 1. Petra (a.k.a. Pink)

It’s very true. Nobody can make you feel as humiliated as a really close friend can. Yes, we were close. But from that to assuming…Seth and I had known each other for years, lived next to each other, went to school together, shared things…And Seth was the most popular guy at our High School (and therefore the most popular guy in my universe), and had all the girls he wanted and all that. I know; you’ve watched the movie. And you know that everybody believed I was in love with him and wasn’t it a shame that I wasn’t “his type”, and was rather “plain” and… “plump”…But, OK, it was fine that everybody thought that and felt sorry for me. What wasn’t fine, not by a long stretch, what was really offensive was how “he” himself believed it. He had phoned me on the fatal evening (5th November if you must know), at around midnight, quite drunk, asking me to go and collect him from Chris’s party. They had invited me but I was busy writing and I knew how these things went. Because of course, I was also “boring”, “clever” and “studious”. I didn’t drink and I didn’t do “drugs”.

I went to pick him up (I had to borrow my parents’ car, but they liked Seth, and I was convinced that at least my mother thought that things would “develop” between us) and I found him necking a girl. I’d never seen her before, probably from a neighbouring town. Once he’d said his goodbyes (something on the line of ‘I’ll call you’ but very slurred) he followed me, or rather, I half-carried him to the car. I had to stop once so he could be sick. Then, when I stopped in front of his house to let him out, he turned to me, kissed me on the cheek (lovely experience still smelling of sick and all) and said the memorable:

“You know, Pink, if you ever…I know you don’t have a boyfriend, but…you know…If you can’t find …if you ever want a bit of a…cuddle and a kiss…or…anything else, ‘anything’ really…I’ll…I’ll do it for you.”

I just pushed him out of the car feeling sick myself. And I could not sleep after that.

Next day it only got worse, although I didn’t think that was possible. I hoped he would not remember the comment, and didn’t even expect or want an apology, but…Oh, no, that would have been too easy. I tried and avoid him during the day, even decided not to talk about it to my best friends, Lorna and Sylvia. You see? Maybe if I didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t have really happened. I could just pretend it had been a nightmare and I had imagined it all.

I left School without meeting him and I thought I had succeeded and was home safe. But no, too much to ask. As soon as I got to my door I heard somebody running towards me. I didn’t even need to turn; I knew it would be him.

“Pink, Pink! Hey…I’ve been trying to catch up with you all day!”

“You finally have. What did you want?”

“I…Listen, about yesterday…”

I didn’t want to make him feel bad about it either. It was my maternal, mother-hen instinct towards him that had been developed over years (if not imprinted in my DNA) and I could not switch it off, even when he was vile. I decided to pretend I didn’t remember.

“Yesterday?”

“The sex thing…I…”

“Forget it.”

“No, no. Don’t get me wrong. That’s not…I just wanted to say…I meant it. It wasn’t a drunken thing…Of course, you don’t need to worry about anything; I wouldn’t tell anybody about it.”

I was about to ask him if he was serious, but he was looking solemn and “sympathetic”. I couldn’t come up with anything to say, and he misinterpreted my silence.

“You’re all right. No need to say anything. I’ll see you around.” He said, patting me on the back. My only consolation was that he had not patted me on the head, like a good dog. It wasn’t much of a consolation, to be honest.

I could have screamed, and I actually did when I got into my house and locked myself in my bedroom. I wanted to kill him! Justified homicide, no doubt.

I was quite upset for a couple of weeks, trying to avoid Seth to little avail. He seemed completely unaware of my efforts or feelings.

I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer, and I finally told Lorna and Sylvia. We had also known each other for many years, and gone to the same school and class since we were little, even though Lorna and Sylvia lived in High Ridge, a neighbouring town. We had always had similar interests and hanged out together, as we didn’t seem to easily fit in with any of the usual groups. Studious and bookish, but not repellent (none of us even wore glasses), plain but not awfully ugly, not particularly sporty but not clumsy enough to become the butt of all jokes. And yes, we weren’t in the group of the fashionable “in” people, but we did not attract attention because of weird sense of dress, make-up or tattoos. If anything, we were grey and invisible. And so far that had been fine with us. It was also true that my friendship with Seth gave us some street-cred that probably avoided our fall into one of the officially despised groups.

I had been trying to exercise, eat healthily and lose weight, and I had succeeded somewhat, although I had enough insight to know I’d never be Barbie…Even if I were to starve to death, my body shape wouldn’t change to the point where I would have legs coming up to my armpits and although I still had some hopes for my breasts, so far they had refused to become anything that guys would bother to look at…

Lorna had done better with growing up, and although she would not accept it when Sylvia and I told her, she had become an attractive girl. It was evident when the three of us were together that guys were now looking at her, whilst in the past they normally scanned over us to look at somebody else. Her newly straightened long dark-brown hair, hazel eyes, faultless olive complexion and heart shaped mouth made her quite pretty, even without make-up. And she was petite and well proportioned. She’d even gone out on a few dates, although so far she had not found her prince charming.

On the other hand, adolescence hadn’t been quite so kind to Sylvia who had suddenly had a growth spurt that had made her taller than most of the boys of our age, very skinny, and flat as an iron board. Despite countless visits to orthodontists and a succession of devices worth of listing in any torture Wikipedia article her smile wasn’t made for toothpaste ads and she had become even shier than before. From my best friend perspective I must add I found them both beautiful and the best friends a girl could wish for.

When I told them about Seth’s behaviour their reaction was as I expected.

Lorna was indignant.

“Who does he think he is, now, eh? Gee… How can you be friends with him? You don’t need that idiot, Pink, you definitely don’t.”

Sylvia was always kind and forgiving. I also had my suspicions that she fancied Seth too…Well, OK, most girls did, but Sylvia was so shy she hardly ever allowed herself to think about boys, as it sent her into meltdown. But I’d seen how she blushed when Seth had looked in her direction or talked to her and…if not love…infatuation at least.

“He was probably just trying to be nice…He’s a bloke after all. He doesn’t understand how we feel about these things. I’m sure he didn’t intend to humiliate you.”

“Well, good job then, isn’t it? I don’t think he could have done it that much better if he had tried to humiliate you… A mercy fuck…Ughhhhh! It makes me sick!” Lorna said, still angry.

“Yes, I also felt very angry to begin with. But now…rather than just carrying on fuming, I think maybe I should be proactive and do something about it.”

“Yes, but what?” Sylvia asked.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. “I have to get my own back on him.”

“How?” Lorna asked, interested.

“I have to prove him wrong.”

“You mean…finding a boyfriend? Isn’t that a bit too much?” Sylvia said, evidently appalled by the suggestion.

“I don’t think it needs to go quite as far as a boyfriend. I don’t really want a boyfriend. I’m far too young and have too many things to do…Anyway; you know what I think about all that.” In summary what I think about it is, nice in theory but in reality quite likely a big waste of time at an age when one doesn’t have that much time to waste. More important things to be getting on with. OK, I know you might think sour grapes and all that…But honestly…boys? Maybe when they grow up…if they ever do.

“I see. You just want him to see you going out with somebody…” Lorna said, appreciatively. “I approve.”

“Yes, but who?” I asked.

“Let’s see.”

As usual when we had to take important decisions or discuss serious matters we went to the library café. With the popularity of e-readers, netbooks and tablets, android mobile phones and particularly Facebook, Twitter and other social networking sites, there was hardly anybody other than people of a certain age at the library. We always sat at the same table, at the back by the window, and we considered it “our table”.

Once settled there, with our diet-coke drinks, we started virtually looking around for candidates. Sylvia was very organised and stopped Lorna when she stated naming boys at random.

“It’s best if we look at the population of guys.”

“What?” I asked.

“Well, you know…Kind of an ethnographic/sociological-type study. What type of guy are you thinking about?”

“You want us to create a profile?” Lorna asked.

“Maybe. But I think that would be too ambitious, considering the raw material we have access to. It will be easier to look at what there is, in terms of groups of guys that might be available.”

“OK. A methodical and scientific approach. Why not?” Yes, it made sense. No need to be overly emotional and girly about this thing. If we were going to do it, we might as well do it well. And as it was a matter of guys, thinking like a bloke might help.

Sylvia got her i-pad out.

“Really?” Lorna asked. “Isn’t that going a bit too far?”

“Why? What is technology for if not these kinds of things?”

“Important things, maybe? How to solve the problem of providing energy and food to the population of the world, curing illnesses, providing education to the masses…” I said.

“Yes, OK. Maybe we’ll do that at some point, but what’s the harm in using a spread sheet to make a sensible decision about guys?”

I had to admit she had a point. Today, finding a possible candidate to boyfriend. Tomorrow, the Noble Prize.

Lorna, who’d evidently been giving boys some thought, took charge of naming the diverse groups of candidates, whilst all of us considered their pros and cons. Well, we couldn’t always find pros. When looked at in such a systematic manner, it appeared surprising that anybody would actually dare to go out with anybody else. Dating agencies definitely deserved their money and more for even attempting such a task.

“Let’s see, let’s see…What kind of guy would you want Seth to see you with, Pink?” Sylvia asked me.

“Well…evidently somebody reasonably attractive but with some brains…I mean, it would have to be somebody he’d believe I’d go out with…He knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t go out with just a pretty face…Not that “just a pretty face” would probably go out with me either.”

Lorna looked at me serious.

“Oh, Pink, don’t start like that. There’s nothing wrong with you…any guy…”

“Let’s leave it. That’s not what this is about…Let’s be methodical.” I said.

“OK, attractive but reasonably intelligent…”

We thought for a while. Not that many boys that would easily fit in such category…

“There’re always Seth’s friends…Adam isn’t bad looking…” Lorna said.

“No, he isn’t. Neither are Tony, or Chris, or Scott…Are you joking, Lorna? Haven’t you noticed the type of girls they go out with? Cheerleaders, trend setters…the beautiful or at least pretty girls…That would be mission impossible and you know they are hardly discreet…When they go out with a girl everybody knows all the details. Even we do!” I replied.

“Yes, Seth is the only one with a bit of class in his group of friends.” Yep, Sylvia. Didn’t I tell you she fancies him?

“I’m also not very convinced about any of them regarding the brains department. They are popular and good at sports and that gives them a lot of leeway, but with regards to merits…” I said.

“Seth is quite clever…I think.”

Lorna and I looked at Sylvia. I don’t know about me, but Lorna definitely rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and he has lovely sandy-coloured and wavy hair, green eyes, cute dimples and the rest. Stop talking about Seth, Sylvia. He’s the cause of all this trouble, and evidently Pink isn’t going to go out with him. No, you’re right, Pink, none of his friends are of any use. He knows them too well; he’d know that you wouldn’t really go out with any of them…It wouldn’t work.”

Most of the guys we considered clever were in one of two despised categories, either the brainy, studious group, mostly composed of extremely uncool characters, good for conversation and teaming up for school work but not datable material, or the geeks.

“Theo, Paul, Mark and Luke…” Sylvia said.

“The brains? Sure, they are clever, but…attractive? Have you ever looked at them?” I said.

“Well…OK, but Mark…has nice eyes…” Sylvia added.

“Yes, and Theo is very tall, and Luke has lovely dark curly hair, but, Mark has horrendous acne and is very short, Theo is really big and always sweaty, Luke wears really old-fashioned glasses and is so skinny that you can hardly see him in profile and Paul…” I added.

Yes, poor Paul was officially the ugliest guy in the school. He was a really nice guy but if I went out with any of them Seth was bound to think I was desperate or I had lost my marbles. He’d probably repeat his offer if he saw me with any of them. They wouldn’t work.

Lorna shook her head.

“No, none of them will do. Not only are they ugly but they also are very shy with girls and have no social graces. They’d probably have a heart attack if they as much as suspected you wanted to go out with one of them…And…”

“Yes, I know. They’re too nice and bound to get hurt if I just used them like that.” OK, I was trying to get my revenge on Seth, but it wasn’t fair to hurt others in the process. That would never do.

We refilled our diet-colas and looked at the document in Sylvia’s i-pad…So far only crosses…Sherlock Holmes used to classify the cases he was working on according to how many pipes he had to smoke to get to the answer. Smoking was no longer pc and women and pipes had never mixed up very well so…I guess in our case we would go by the number of diet-colas we drank whilst thinking about a problem, or producing a plan. This one might break our record of three.

“What about the geeks? They aren’t quite as sensitive as the brains.” Lorna asked.

Although the brains were fairly geeky, the geeks were a distinct category of boys who seemed to only have time for gadgets, games, and who most of the time seemed to live in an alternative reality that only crossed with ours very sporadically.

“And apart from Troy, all the rest are fairly normal looking.” Sylvia agreed.

We all paused at the mention of Troy. He was the son of the mayor and in contrast with his oldest brother, who had left school with a football scholarship and was now at Davis, the jewel of the family, he was really awkward looking and odd. He’d always reminded me of actors in horror movies. He didn’t seem to belong in our planet. He wasn’t ugly, but just like a Picasso his aesthetics and looks were extremely unconventional. It’s true that nobody could go unnoticed at his arm, but I wasn’t convinced that was the kind of attention I wanted.

“Have you ever tried to talk to Matt, Pete, Dean or Todd about anything that isn’t games, computers or comic books? I know you’ve tried. So have I. With no success. I want revenge but not at the cost of my sanity. I don’t want a real boyfriend but at least I’d appreciate somebody I could have a conversation with…”

More crosses. Still no ticks.

“What about the invisible guys?” Lorna asked. She meant, guys that like us didn’t seem to belong in any of the defined categories. Plain, non-offensive, not particularly sporty, not particularly clever, not particularly attractive…

“No good. Pink needs somebody Seth would notice. Somebody who’d force him to make a double-take when he sees her with him. An invisible…won’t work.”

I nodded. Yes, Sylvia was right.

“He’d notice it if you went out with one of the rebels.” Lorna said.

Yes, even Hope Springs, ‘the town where nothing ever happened’ (according to our rewriting of the official motto that was ‘where all dreams are possible’. I agree, sickeningly sweet, and not true to boot), had some bad guys. At our age we were not truly convinced they were genuinely bad, they really hadn’t had time for that, but they were rebellious, non-conformist, and more troublesome than the generality. Admittedly in a place like Hope Springs that wasn’t very difficult, but…they had a bit of a reputation.

“Clint has a girlfriend. And Jesse…” Sylvia said…

Jesse had pushed Sylvia last year and she’d fallen downstairs twisting her ankle. He’d denied it had been intentional, saying that he was just in a hurry and she had been on the way, but…we officially didn’t like him. We’d predicted he’d end up in prison some day. Jailbait was a bit too much for what I had in mind. No.

We were now on our third diet-cola and still no reasonable candidates.

“I can’t think any longer.” Lorna said. “I think we must have gone through all the class.”

We were quiet for a few seconds, and then Sylvia jumped up.

“You’re right! That’s it! We’ve gone through all the boys in our class. But that’s not all the boys. We need to look at other classes. We need to expand our age range.”

I closed my eyes. I knew where this was going now. I could see the name Sylvia would come up with flashing in neon lights. But I was still curious to know how she’d bring him up.

“I don’t think younger guys would be appropriate. First…Even guys our age are immature, can you imagine a younger guy? A year younger would already be too much. You don’t want to get a reputation for being a cradle-snatcher.” Lorna said, final. She had a way of summarising things and getting straight to the point that I’d always admired and thought would put her in good stead for a career in advertising or the movies.

“No, Seth would laugh at me if I went out with a younger guy. He’d tease him and me to death. That wouldn’t help.”

“Oh girls, come on. You know I didn’t mean you should go out with a younger guy. What I meant was you should look at older guys. It’s always a status thing for a girl to go out with an older guy. A man of the world, more mature…”

“Sure, but how old? What are we talking about? University guy?” Lorna asked, turning to me and winking. She’d evidently also worked out what Sylvia was trying to get at.

“We don’t want to go over the top either or make the guy look like a freak or a paedophile…No, maybe somebody a couple of years older…” Sylvia added, trying to sound casual, and failing.

“I don’t think we know a lot of guys that age, do we, Lorna?” I asked, looking at Lorna, trying to appear serious.

“No. I can’t think of any. Maybe guys from another town…” Lorna snapped her fingers. “I have an idea! Sylvia, why don’t you ask your brother Jackson if he has any friends that would be suitable? He’s two years older than us, isn’t he? I don’t know his friends, but it’s possible one of them could do. Maybe you should phone him.”

Lorna and I both looked at Sylvia with intent and a composed expression.

“Yes, that sounds like an idea. Why don’t you phone Jackson, Sylvia, and ask him?” I said.

Sylvia looked at both of us, red-faced, breathing fast and shallow, trying to think of something to say. We finally couldn’t keep it up and started laughing.

“You should see your face, Sylvia!” I told her.

“You were taking the mickey! You knew I meant my brother!”

Lorna squeezed her arm.

“Of course we knew you meant your brother. You’re always trying to fix him with Pink. You’ve always had this idea that the two of them will fall madly in love, will be happy ever after and you will be sisters and have lovely nieces and nephews.”

“But Jackson really likes you, Pink!”

“You know I think your brother is a nice guy and I quite like him, as a friend, but…”

Lorna again got to the point quickly.

“Jackson is clumsy, has the attention span of a fish and other than ball sports has very few interests. You are the brains in the family, dear Sylvia. Your brother, although not bad looking, is a bit of an…”

Sylvia didn’t let her finish.

“You’re right, this is all for revenge and it wouldn’t be fair to get my brother involved when he has feelings for you…”

Poor Jackson probably didn’t even know what he felt, but was happy to go along with his sisters’ assessment of his feelings and had always been extra-nice towards me, although I’d tried as much as I could, without hurting him, to make him understand that I didn’t see him as boyfriend material, and I didn’t really want a boyfriend anyway. Lorna was right though, he wasn’t bad looking. He had the perfect smile that his sister hadn’t managed yet despite her and the dentists’ efforts, and although very tall he was a good basketball player and his height suited him.

“Well, that’s it then. I think we’ll need to keep thinking.” Lorna said. “I can’t drink any more diet-cola or go on about guys any longer. We’ll have to leave it.”

“Maybe somebody new will come along.” Sylvia said, always optimistic. I didn’t think that was likely but nodded. No point in upsetting her further after our comments about her brother. Maybe all our dreams would come true anyway.

 

As an experiment, I decided to download the draft of the first novel to Wattpad, so if you fancy reading on, for the time being it’s available here:

http://www.wattpad.com/story/12042085-angelic-business-1-pink-matters

What I decided was to finish writing (and then translating, editing, correcting…) the third novel in the series, and then publish them all in fairly quick succession, to try and build up interest and also to avoid leaving readers waiting for too long.

Here a not very happy angel, waiting for you to finish writing the next novel Might feed you to the lion if you don't get done soon!

Here a not very happy angel, waiting for you to finish writing the next novel. Might feed you to the lion if you don’t get done soon!

A good friend and fellow author (Hi Teagan!) suggested I buddy up with her for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) that despite the name is international, where you can join, and challenge yourself to write a novel at least 50000 words long (if you do, you’ve won). You can take part in forums, encourage and support each other, and buddy up with other writers. I had been curious about it but never before managed to join at the right moment. And I thought…it would be an excellent opportunity to try and write the draft of part three. Still nameless, but…

If you want to check NaNoWriMo, here is the link:

http://nanowrimo.org/

And if you’re taking part, buddy up with me if you like! I’m OlgaNM7.

So now you know what I’m up to (apart from my translating business that keeps going and I’ll talk to you about that soon but, not until after November for sure), and don’t be surprised if  you see me doing reblogs and refreshing some old material in the blog as I’ll be a bit busy next month, but I’ll try and keep up posting other authors’ new books.

And just for some inspiration, I leave you the Jacob Epstein’s angel in Oscar Wilde’s tomb at Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris. Now they’ve put a protective glass in front to avoid so many kisses and the cleaning bill that it said goes to the family. Oh well… (there’re still some kisses where the glass doesn’t reach!)

Jacob Epstein's angel in Oscar Wilde's tomb in Paris

Jacob Epstein’s angel in Oscar Wilde’s tomb in Paris

Time to go but I couldn’t resist leaving you this angel again from Poble Nou in Barcelona. It needs a good clean (unfortunately there’s a gate in front and I couldn’t reach) but I thought it was so gorgeous…

Dust indeed

Dust indeed

Thanks for reading, and remember, if you’ve enjoyed it, like, share, comment and of course, CLICK! Ah, and if you see any interesting angels, think of me and share!

Good morning, all! My “Chatting with the Authors” segment this morning is with my pal Olga Nunez Miret and “The Man Who Never Was”…come join us!.

Check out Thomas Rydder’s interview with…me!

As promised over Christmas I’ve decided to bring a selection of recent posts. First I decided to remind you of Jesús’s take on his own life, as described in my novel The Man Who Never Was. Here he is:

Have you ever wondered how your life would be if everybody judged you by the way you look? My name is Jesús and that’s the stuff my life is made of. I was born ugly. Extremely ugly. (Well, I guess I’m still ugly, but I’ve been seeing myself like this for so long that I no longer notice the ugliness. I’ve probably grown immune to it. On the other hand most of the people I meet notice…a lot. Double take and all).

My birth is the stuff of legend. The story is repeated like a mantra in all family occasions. You know: weddings, birthdays, christenings, burials…My mother, Adelina, who’ve never wanted to do things like everybody else, decided not to go to hospital. She wanted a home birth. She wasn’t married and was staying with her parents. No, I never met my father, but that’s a long story…Anyway, it seems that my mother was screaming like a banshee (the doctor was very late. He was a busy man, poor guy) and when I was finally born and my grandmother took me in her arms I gave her a big fright. I’ve never seen any pictures of that moment  (it seems nobody dared to take any considering my looks) but I’ve been reliably informed that I was all covered in black hair, head to toe.(At this point my grandmother always said: ‘like a little monkey’ but she has to add, after the all important pause, ‘but uglier’) I didn’t cry and just opened my eyes, that have always been a bit special. My grandmother shouted ‘Jesús’ in her fright. She said I looked like the devil (not sure how many encounters she’d had with the devil, but she seemed very confident on that matter).

Nobody came up with a better name, and I was left with the name ‘Jesús’. It seems my mother liked it, and all agreed it might give me some protection.

I’ve lived all my life with people looking at me and expecting something malefic and special to manifest. It has been hard and it has made my life very complicated. All things considered, I don’t think that even if I had looked like Johnny Depp, my life would have been any less complicated.

My mother, Adelina, got married when I was about 5 or so, to the mayor’s son. Senén. Handsome man, not too complicated…Kind enough to me and all. No complaints. He decided to move to the city and get into politics. You can read more details of the campaign and things in the book. I only know what they’ve told me later and the few things I remember, but I’ve never been much into politics…I’ve always left that to others in the family.

No, more interesting than that was…I had a sister…Stephanie, although we always called her Stephie…Half-sister, really, but that’s never made a difference. She was a beautiful baby and everybody thought that we were like the beauty and the beast (or angel and demon). I could live with that. Girls are always expected to be prettier anyway.

On the day of the elections (Senén was candidate to mayor for the capital) after the voting (that was rather funny too…Senén was wearing his slippers, forgot his ID, had to go to the toilet…we had to go back home 3 times!) my mother went to a spa and left Senén with Carmen. Carmen was a lawyer he knew from years back and was looking after his political career…Or so I thought at the time. Carmen and Senén locked themselves in the office, to ‘work’ and I was in the lounge, when suddenly Stephie, who was a toddler, not yet 1, said ‘Hello!’ and then started talking fluently. I nearly fell off my chair! She’d only babbled a bit and had said ‘papa’ earlier that day, but nothing like a full conversation…She told me she had to start talking because things were a mess. I went to tell the cook (my nanny was out and there was nobody else in the house. Thinking about it Senén and Carmen should have been looking after us, but…) and rather than telling her I grabbed her hand and took her to the lounge. When Stephie started talking to her, she fainted…Luckily she didn’t hurt herself. Now there was nobody else I could tell, as Senén and Carmen hadn’t come out of the office, so I had a chat with my sister. She was very clever and showed lots of common sense. She told me I was too young to tell me what was really going on (the cheek!) and comforted me about my problems at school, telling me things would change and I wouldn’t have to play the baddy in all the games for much longer. She was right…She would be right ever since…

When Senén and Carmen finally came out of the office they were surprised, but also embarrassed when my sister started talking to them. I didn’t get the meaning of what she was telling them, something about Carmen riding Senén and things…It didn’t make sense to me at the time. When our mother came back and she told her about their meetings in the office, it seemed it was something really bad, as Adelina kicked Carmen out and started sleeping alone. Senén looked sad after that, but Stephie became a star. TV, magazines, everybody wanted a piece of her! And by association I became more popular, because I was the brother of the ‘fantastic girl’.

And how fantastic she was!

 If you want to read more about Jesús and his family’s adventures, check this:

Mancover(EnAmaz)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009TWRT22

And don’t forget my new series of novellas, Escaping Psychiatry about a psychiatrist and writer and her adventures.

‘Cannon Fodder’ (Escaping Psychiatry part 1)

CannonFoddertitle

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AKWO8Z6

‘Teamwork’ (Escaping Psychiatry part 2)

Teamwork2 V 0065

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AKWSQJA

And ‘Memory’ (Escaping Psychiatry Part 3)

Memorycover

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AKWVRCS

Thank you for reading and Merry Chrismas!

Living in the Gap

“Ruffled feathers and endless squawking over a minor difficulty is typical of a crow’s life. I lean back on the counter and realize that could be my line….”

Opinión y actualidad

Opinión sobre noticias y asuntos de actualidad

Los escritos de Héctor Browne

Blog (algo literario y algo viejo) de un Licenciado en Letras, diplomado en edición, y Profesor de Lenguaje.

Priscilla Bettis, Author

The making of a horror novelist.

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