ISO Better Metaphors
I've always hated rollercoasters...
No sooner had I titled this issue of Out of Japan than I paused.
Yes, ISO is the International Standards Organization.
However, ISO also dates back to personal ads from the 1970s. Is seeking out…
Shorthand was necessary when newspapers and magazines charged by the letter.
I certainly placed many a personal ad in Japan, but nary a one in the United States. Although, if I believe (a BIG if) the fictional version of my memoir, something I began writing in 1995 (and abandoned shortly thereafter), I responded to a personal ad while still at Williams. According to that old manuscript—neither I nor Hiro throw anything away, it seems…
So.
Much.
Cringe.
But maybe the next page is better?
Jock magazine? That seems really off-brand for me, but in my desperate early twenties, who knows? I don’t think I would have had the courage to respond to an ad in Honcho or Mandate…
The two thousand mice weren’t fictional. And my love of dialogue within my writing hasn’t changed much in the intervening years.
Had I placed an ad, though, in those years of need, it would have been brief. GWM, 22, ISO anyone.
There’s a joke to be made about an ex-Catholic with catholic tastes in men. But, yet again, I digress.
I have always hated rollercoasters. And log flume rides. And really, most carnival rides aside from a carousel or a Ferris wheel (but even the latter can be iffy). The combination of speed and changing motion triggers a panic instinct in me, and I stop breathing. When forced onto centripetal? centrifugal? rides in the past, I have to force myself to scream to keep breathing. Not fun for me, for whomever I’m with, and, usually, for whoever is operating the ride.
But rollercoasters make for great metaphors. The ups. The downs. The upside-downs, even.
And this past week has undoubtedly been metaphorical. Good and bad news in rapid succession. Perhaps a series of divine bridges where the gods pass by, sharing joy in one moment, disappointment in the next.
At least in Seattle, the physical world seems to be a bubble. We have weather patterns that used to be classified as typical winter here (but are increasingly rare). Clouds, a little rain, some sun breaks. Temperatures range from the mid-thirties to the high forties.
Los Angeles, meanwhile, remains afire. A college classmate lost her home, although she and her boys are safe, thank goodness. Most of the eastern half of the US is in a polar vortex.
And my writing world has been a veritable electrocardiograph (ooh! another potential metaphoric replacement for rollercoasters!).
Two excellent writers,
and (Bethany Jarmul), helped me to refine my writing goals for the year ahead.An agent I’ve been waiting to query for more than eight months finally opened up to queries. Unfortunately, they rejected me almost as quickly as I queried them. I then queried six more agents.
I wrote a craft essay on different memoir genres last Monday. Within two days, the editors I sent it to accepted it. It’s coming out next week.
My editor at Hippocampus helped to set my book review schedule for the first half of 2025. Including my review of Edmund White’s The Loves of My Life, which went live this morning, I’m locked in to review six books through to July.
Two independent publishers rejected my manuscript this week. Seven other publishers I’ve submitted to have yet to respond, and I have at least a dozen more to submit to.
One of my essays, a modified excerpt from my memoir’s manuscript, has been longlisted? (a major literary magazine’s readers graduated it up the chain to the editors) at one of this year’s dream publications. (I’m using this incredible resource from Brecht De Porteere to target literary magazines. If you find it helpful, visit his website and buy him a coffee.)
I also sent other essays to two other publications.
During the agent querying process, one of the agents I queried had me rethink my synopsis. I had been thinking of it as a plot summary, but her recommendation was to write it as if it were copy on the back of the (eventual) book. Hence:
Of everything Brian looked forward to when he moved to Japan in 1988, learning new ways to come out wasn’t one of them. When his employer required him to keep his sexuality secret, a new American friend helped Brian fit his closet with a revolving door. Brian has an advantage over his friend, however: Brian is fluent in Japanese, and that skill propelled him further into a gay Tōkyō filled with bars, personal ads, cruising, and dial-up connections.
But Brian is closeted in emotional ways, too, and only learns to deal with the grief, anxiety, and fear he hid from when his long-wanted first relationship turned out to be a sham. Beyond his tears, Brian finds new ways to be out and in love at the same time.
CRYING IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE; COMING OUT AND THE HOME MY HEART ALWAYS WANTED is part lyric memoir and part personal encyclopedia. Flash-like chapters intertwine Brian’s past, present, and future, and brief citations from medical, academic, literary, and historical sources share context from the HIV/AIDS pandemic and the experience of queerness in the United States and Japan.
Again, I want to thank everyone who has contributed to my crowdfunding campaign. There’s only $700 left to go until I reach my goal. And if you need extra motivation for contributing, my birthday is Tuesday the 14th. Your gifts will help me attend the Association of Writers and Writing Programs annual conference (for which I was awarded a working scholarship). Attendance brings opportunities to meet with agents and publishers, to meet with some of my writing pantheon—Roxane Gay is the keynote speaker—and to reconnect with classmates from past writing seminars. Thank you for considering this; every gift helps!
Until next week.
I love your new synopsis. I’m going to use yours as a guide for writing my own!