I WILL TELL THE NIGHTis now out in the world. It’s my 9th novel, and my first self-published novel. It’s available only on Amazon…in all countries that Amazon operates. KINDLE or PAPERBACK! You decide…
Synopsis: Finn Barker escaped his family in Miramichi, New Brunswick, decades ago for the anonymity of Toronto. When he learns of his mother’s impending demise, he decides to make the trip back home to say goodbye. But going back will awaken all the sleeping ghosts Finn’s not quite sure he’s willing to stir. With no time to decide, his split-second decision to jump back in has him driving across the country, with his boyfriend Steven behind the wheel. Along the way, Finn begins to unpack the mess he left behind. There’s the grandmother, MyImogene, he adored, and the twin brother who died of cancer when his own parents would have preferred to lose the other twin. There’s also the huge scandal Finn orchestrated with a teacher that gave him the Dutch courage he needed to flee. It was almost all bad.
Finn makes it in time for goodbyes, but then there’s the still very active strife between him and his father, the funeral, the family, and the secrets that shed new light on the cause of the rift between his parents and his beloved MyImogene. Every family carries secrets. Finn discovers they’re the one thing you can’t escape, no matter how far away you run. Secrets always catch up. Often, it’s death that has a way of bringing them back into the light of day. He was able to make peace with his dying mother, but can Finn make peace with all the rest…or is it time to run away for another thirty years?
You can pick up your copy of I WILL TELL THE NIGHT in your country’s Amazon!
As my latest novel, I WILL TELL THE NIGHT, moves closer to its release date, I can’t help but think about the way fiction is often an alternate version of reality. The manipulative way we mingle truths in with the creative lies is almost vulgar. Those who know the writer can pick out little bits here and there that seem to be almost autobiographical. It’s the same with every novel ever written.
As I work my way through my final pass, I’m seeing similarities between story and my lived life. Let me make this perfectly clear from the onset, though…this upcoming novel has almost nothing to do with my own life. It is totally a work of fiction. Any similarities is coincidental, blah, blah, blah!
But the fine hairs… let’s just say there are hidden truths in all fiction.
A signpost up ahead…
The horse pictured above sat on a shelf in my grandmother’s house back in Nelson, Miramichi, New Brunswick. That happens to be the geographical setting of most of my novel I WILL TELL THE NIGHT. It’s the story of a gay man who was born and raised in that small town in the East Coast of Canada. A man who fled to the big city of Toronto, Ontario, when his homosexuality was not accepted. It’s a family saga about dysfunction and redemption.
The horse above makes an appearance in this fictional story. See, it just seeped in. I had nothing to do with it. I was happily writing along and suddenly this horse appeared in the story. The horse is real, but it’s also fictional. This is exactly what I’m talking about. We bleed little pieces of reality into our fiction without actually realize we’re doing it.
The story has nothing to do with my own life. But I did steal tidbits and peppered them through the story. I used some of my own experiences, geographical familiarities, etc. Hell, I even used the bric-à-brac and tchotchkes from my own life. These are the details that make the lies of fiction more believable, aren’t they.
I’ve had more than one person tell me they were nervous about reading this one. I guess the plot line invites the possibility of autobiographical fiction. But it’s not! This novel is all lies…all make belief…all fiction. If you spot similarities, I guess it just means I did my job properly. I strive more than ever to make this novel ‘believable’. But it’s not a story about me…in any way.
On the Miramichi, August, 2024. Michael and I took grandboy Edward down for the Labour Day Weekend.
Although I spent most of my childhood summers in the Miramichi, visiting my granparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins, I am not FROM there. I never in a million years would have made an escape from the shores of the Miramichi the way my main character did in the novel. If anything, I would have ran toward the place. It’s still one of my favourite places in the world.
I have always wanted to write a novel set in New Brunswick. ALWAYS! This one came about in 2016 after a series of events transpired. In April of that year, my mother passed away. My parents were living back in the Miramichi at the time of her passing. My brother and I made a last minute trip to get there prior to my mother’s passing. We made it. We said our goodbyes.
Then, fast-forward three months to July and it was time, once again, for the Muskoka Novel Marathon. With our experiences fresh in my mind, a story came to me. Who knew the heartrending experience of driving a thousand miles to see our dying mother one last time would remain fresh in my mind and beg to be used in a fictional setting?
A panel of judges chose the novel to win the 2016 BEST ADULT NOVEL AWARD at the Muskoka Novel Marathon.
There is a gossamer resemblance to our journey East and the journey taken in the novel, but all similarities fall apart after that. I know this may come across as ‘thou doth protest too much’, but the truth is the entire story is FICTION. This is what authors do. They take a square and mold it into a circle. The square is still there…but you just can’t see it. We twist and pull at our own life experiences, mold things into a story, and then we pull out all the identifying details. What’s left is pure fiction. If you write close enough to the bone, though, that fiction is also reality. We create something new.
I have said enough. I now feel like I’m attempting to convince a horse of his essential cow-ness. If you know me, and you read this story…you may think, “hmmm???” But you won’t find me in it’s pages. None of it is true.
PREORDER I WILL TELL THE NIGHT today! It drops on JANUARY 7th, 2025. I promise you, it’s all LIES.
I’m sharing a short story today that originally appeared in an anthology called LOVE IS LOVE. All proceeds from the anthology went to the Trevor Project. I was so honoured to be asked to contribute to it.
My story, THIS IS ME IN GRADE NINE, is the story of a transitioning teen’s preparation for and first moments of grade nine.
You can read the short story below…
(Book cover photo courtesy of Emma Eden Ramos.)
THIS IS ME IN GRADE NINE – by Kevin Craig
The first day is always the worst day. My brother Dillon told me this, but I already had my suspicions. I’m kind of good at coming to conclusions on my own. The first day is the day you’re forced to let go of all the confidence and royalty you gained in being in the highest grade in elementary school. Eighth Grade rules. In grade nine, however, you start all over again at the bottom. Grade nine is the kindergarten of high school. I’m the new kid again, stripped of the glory of my former elementary school standing. Minor-Niner.
I blindly reach for my phone with my eyes closed. After a failed swipe to turn off my alarm, I give up and open my eyes. I need to shut off the noise. I set it twenty minutes ahead. Last night’s me knew I would need a few minutes in bed to contemplate the hugeness of this day. The first day of the rest of my life.
I told my parents when I was ten. I thought they’d be okay with it. They even mostly convinced me they were okay with it. Until Dad came up with the plan for me to fake it until I was older. He thought it would be best if I didn’t rock the boat.
I’m pretty sure he was talking more about his boat than mine.
I don’t really blame him. (Yes I do). He was only trying to protect me. (Protect himself).
Today is the day. I worked up to this all summer. Mom’s on board and Dad pretends to be. I can see him coming apart at the seams, though. I sometimes imagine how difficult it must be for him. The least I can do is cut him some slack. I know he’s trying. I know he loves me.
He did allow me to redo my bedroom almost right away. My ten-year-old self went to town on Barbie pink decor. Something I have slightly regretted ever since. But what ten-year-old doesn’t see pink as the exact opposite of boy? Dad was also okay with me making subtle changes along the way, like growing my hair out. But there has always been the public me and the private family me. He’s been very protective of that barrier, even though it’s been eroding the entire time. I watched it slip away between his fingers. But I won’t feel bad for him. This isn’t about him.
Mom’s my rock. Our shopping trips to the city were the best part of my summer. If it makes me pathetic to enjoy shopping with my mother, oh well. Mom gets me. She even seems to know the kind of girl I want to be. By the end of the summer, I even let her choose the outfits while I stood in the change-room pacing back and forth waiting for the next dress or sweater or tights to come swinging up over the door-frame of the stall. It was a summer of preparation and today is the day we prepared for…it’s here.
My first official day.
I glance over to the hook on the back of my bedroom door and see the outfit I picked out for today. The clothes I’ll wear to meet the student body of Hubert B Larson Secondary School. A butter yellow blouse with exaggerated double-bell sleeves and jeans with slight bedazzled embellishments on the pockets. Not a dress, not yet.
I imagine myself in the swishy blouse with the fun sleeves. I’m utterly in love with those sleeves. Before I drag myself out of bed, though, there’s a soft knock on my door. I pull the duvet over my head, but say, “Come in.”
I hear the door open and sense someone approach. They sit down gently on the side of the bed.
I pull back the covers, expecting it to be Mom. Seems like an excellent time for a Mom Talk. But it’s Dillon. His back is to me. I can tell he’s ready for school. He smells of Axe spray and cleanliness. And his dirty blonde skater hair is perfection, as usual.
Without turning around, he says, “You know I’m here for you, right.”
I don’t answer. He’s not finished. There wasn’t quite enough of a question to his question.
“Whatever you want or need, you come see me. I don’t care if I’m in class, in gym, with friends, in the can, or whatever. You come see me, Kristy. You got me?” His resolve almost comes across as anger, but I know better. It’s fierce sibling loyalty. Fierce loyalty, period.
The way he slipped my name in there—just like that—brings a tear to my eye. I swipe at it and take a deep breath. I remain quiet. Maybe this is my Mom Talk. Maybe Mom sent in Dill to pinch-hit for her.
“Remember that day in Paris. The summer before I started high school? Three years ago. Wow. Time flies, Kristy. I was so scared. I even thought about running away. In Paris, I thought about running away to avoid high school. How crazy is that?”
I sit up. It’s time for me to enter this conversation. I swing my legs over the other side of the bed and come around and stand in front of him in my Wonder Woman pajamas. He offers up that amazing Dill smile he has. I smile back.
“You did run away, loser,” I say as I sit down beside him. A little laugh escapes me and Dillon chuckles in return. “You texted my cell when I was with Mom and Dad in Shakespeare & Company. Mom couldn’t get Dad to leave the upstairs part, where all the dusty old books are. The ones you can look at but not buy. You texted that you loved me and told me, keep being you.”
“Yeah. I’m such a loser. You’re right.”
“Because Dad made us all share our locations on Google in case someone got lost and because you were too stupid to turn your share off before you texted, I knew exactly where you were.”
“And you came across the river to talk me down from the ledge,” Dillon says. He puts an arm around my shoulder and looks me in the eye. “And everything turned out okay. I survived Grade Nine. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I imagined it would be.”
“You do know there’s more to it with me, though, right?” I ask. “I mean, it’s not the same.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Dillon says with exaggerated annoyance. “Come on. I just mean, you know…”
“I get it, Dill. Really. Grade nine is scary. But honestly, I’m not even thinking about that right now. I know I’ve been preparing for this for forever, but it doesn’t make it any less scary. Today, I’m becoming myself. It just so happens I’m doing it on the first day of Grade Nine.”
“No,” he says. Now he holds both of my cheeks in a too-tight grip. He gives me his laser Dillon eyes. “You’ve always been who you are. You have to remember that part, Kristy. Dad was wrong to make you wait. You’ve always been you.”
“Yeah, I know, Dill,” I say. “Thank you.”
“I’m here. That’s all I want you to know. I know you didn’t text me or nothing. You weren’t throwing out a life-line hoping I would save you from yourself. That’s because you’re way braver than I ever was. You’d never run away. But I’m here. I need you to know that. If you ever need talking down from the ledge, I’m your man. We got this. Together.”
Though he’s holding my cheeks in a death grip, I break free and hug him. For a big brother, he’s pretty great.
After a moment, I let go.
“Okay,” I say. “That was nice and all, loser, but I have to get ready for school. This magic isn’t going to happen all by itself, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dills says. “See you downstairs, sis.”
The sis comment hits me in the feels in a way I don’t expect, so I usher Dillon out of my room as quick as I can. I will not cry, I will not cry.
That top is waiting for me. I can’t wait to have those sleeves to shake around. First, however? Shower, hair, and make-up.
***
Four. That’s how many kids from my Grade Eight class are going to the same high school as me. All four of them, along with their parents, came over to our house this past long weekend. Mom orchestrated the meeting. I have no idea what she said to get them to come. My preparation was her summer project. This was The Summer of Becoming Kristy Mason. Mom thought of everything. Even one-on-one make-up application classes. I didn’t even know they existed.
Titan Banks, Emily Jackson, Rob Denison, and Sarah Parker. I have never walked in their circles. Sure, we had classes together. We know each other fine. We just never hung out together. I wondered what it would be like to be Emily’s friend. I’ve had a crush on Titan Banks since the first day of kindergarten when he shared a red plastic boat with me at the water station. He was really nice about it. That gesture was enough to cement a life-long attraction that will never go anywhere. We have ricocheted noiselessly in and out of each other’s orbits ever since.
Emily and Titan are going to Larson Secondary because they’re moving across town. The other two are probably going there for the same reason as me…a fresh start. If anyone needs to reinvent themselves, it’s Sarah Parker. Kids can be so mean when they weaponize social media. Sarah explored the Grade Eight boys of Piedmont Elementary a little too freely and she has seriously paid for it over the past year.
Everyone seemed okay with Mom’s announcement, initially. They were polite and smiled at all the right places. They attempted airs of casualness. Everyone but Rob, that is. His mouth hung open from the second he set eyes on me. The mere presence of my clothes, hair and make-up was clearly more than he could bear. But the façade the others had managed to momentarily hold onto slowly began to show cracks. It was Emily who finally broke the spell.
“I mean, it’s cool and everything,” she had said. “But you’re crazy if you think for one minute I’m going to call him Kristy. His name’s Chris.”
The hardest part of hearing that statement had nothing to do with her intentional misgendering or the way it made me feel. What broke my heart was the way her words completely and utterly deflated Mom. I watched as her carefully maintained smile drooped at the corners and then faded completely away. It was immediately replaced with a pained expression that made me want to punch Emily in the throat. I think Mom finally realized, in that moment, how difficult this new reality was going to be. Not only for me, but for all of us.
How could she not have known?
After a moment of silence where my entire family buried their well-intentioned hopes that everything would run smoothly, my father brought the conversation back to life.
“Yes, well…” That was all he had. The extent of his contribution.
“Emily, dear,” her mother had said, clearly feigning outrage with her daughter. She then turned to Mom and said, “I’m so sorry. This must be so difficult for you. I’ll talk to Emily. I’ll make sure she calls him—“
“Her! Calls her,” Dillon had said, the sheer volume of his voice made me jump. Dillon got up from where he sat, came within an inch of my face, grabbed my cheeks and said, “You’re my sister. You’re a she. Do you hear me? I don’t want you to hear any of the bullshit. Don’t listen to it. Do you understand?” His eyes bore into mine and I could see he was waiting for me to actually answer his question.
“Yes,” I had said, feeling the tears forming but pleading with them not to fall.
“You’re wrong,” Mom finally said, turning to Mrs. Jackson. “It’s not difficult for me. This,” she continued, waving a hand to encompass me, “This is not difficult for me. My daughter is not difficult. Accepting her and loving her has never been difficult. The only thing that is difficult for me right now is that I counted on the kindness of strangers and hoped for some understanding. It’s difficult to see how much I misjudged this.”
“It was nice of you all to invite us over to discuss this…situation,” Titan’s father said, ignoring the flow of the conversation. “But really. This doesn’t involve us. We have no reason to force our kids to help you in whatever it is you want their help in. They went to the same school as him. They don’t owe him anything. If we’re done here, I think we’ll head out. I’m sure the rest of you have better things to do with our Labour Day Saturday. I know I do. Come on, Titan. We’re leaving.”
“Dad,” Titan had said. “No. Don’t be a douche.” He had turned to Mom and offered her a slight smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mason. I’ll look out for Kristy at Larson. I’ll look out for her. I promise.”
I’m sure Titan wasn’t expecting the smothering hug he received from Mom, but he allowed it to happen all the same.
“Thank you so much, Titan,” Mom had said. She even tousled his perfectly messy black mop of hair.
“No problem,” Titan had said. His perfect smile quickly faded to a menacing dirty look as he glanced over at Emily. Once he was certain the look had hit its mark and Emily had recoiled herself away from it with a flinch, Titan had turned to me and my brother. “See you at school, Kristy. You look great.”
Sitting here at the breakfast bar, eating a banana with my dry Cheerios, I can feel my cheeks burn with the memory of that compliment. Dillon had made a huge point of thanking Titan. He had been the only truly supportive person in the entire group. After that, everyone decided en masse that the meeting was over. They made an exodus to the front door. There were promises and apologies and awkward goodbyes and it was over.
I finish my cereal and bring the bowl to the sink. Seeing my arms move in my double-bell sleeves makes me lighter. Seeing Friday’s manicure on my outstretched fingers as I toss my banana peel into the compost gives me power. Another thing Mom and I did together over the weekend. Matching manicures. And I somehow made mine last.
“Sweetie,” Mom says as she comes up behind me. “You look so beautiful. Did you eat enough? You have your cell phone? You sure you don’t want me to drive you? I’m sorry Daddy’s not here. He had to go in early for a meeting. He told me to tell you—”
“Mom, stop. Slow down. Please.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I’m just nervous.”
I place a hand on her shoulder and make her look me in the eye. “It’s the first day of high school, Mom. I’m not going off to war.”
“After this weekend, I’m not so sure that’s true,” she says. “What if everyone is like those people?”
“Mom, please,” I say. “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to drive me. Dillon said he would. He’s going there anyway, right. I’ll be okay. I promise. You know Dill.”
“I honestly don’t know what I would do without him, sweetie.”
“Yeah, well. Me too.”
I’m glad Dill and I had our conversation earlier. I’m guessing he’s gonna be a bit all-over-the-place during the ride to school. If Mom’s any indication.
“Please don’t be angry with your father, Kristy. He’s trying. He’s doing his be—”
“Mom, no,” Dillon says as he comes down the stairs. “Don’t put this on her. Don’t tell her how to feel. And don’t protect him. He’s doing shit.”
“Language. And he is trying. I promise you, he’s trying.”
“Mom,” Dillon says. “There is no trying. Don’t you get it? He shouldn’t have to try. Are you trying? No. You’re just doing. Don’t stick up for him. He has work to do and we all know it.”
“Just…it’s okay, Dill. Could we just go?” I make my way to the front door, grab my school bag and purse. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
I’m not the least bit ready, but I’m more not ready for this conversation than I’m not ready for school. The closer I get to who I am the farther away from Dad I become and it’s really freaking me out.
Mom catches up to me as I reach the door. I find myself smothered in a last minute hug I’m not sure I’ll survive.
“Baby, I hope I did everything right. I did, right? I did everything right?” She mumbles into my neck, choking back sobs as she speaks. “I just want my girl to be happy. I don’t know how to protect you. I can’t protect you if I’m not there.”
Dillon steps in to save me, prying Mom away from me. It’s taking everything in me not to break down and join her. And Dillon can see how close I am.
“We love you, Mom. I’ll text you later. Kristy’s golden. Okay. We got this.”
We escape to the car. I am mere moments away from high school. Surprisingly, we drive in silence for the most part. We’re about three minutes away from school when we simultaneously burst into laughter. I look over and Dillon has his head back and his mouth open and he’s totally lost in it for a split second that seems to last forever. As he looks back at the road, he says, “She’s your mother.” This only makes us laugh harder.
We pull into the parking lot and it gets real. I can’t do this. After Dill parks, he gets out and runs around to my side of the car. When he opens the door for me, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Loser.”
“I know, right,” he says, chuckling. “Who the hell am I?”
“Chivalry is alive and well and living inside the zombie that invaded my big brother’s body.”
“I deserved that,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Dillon heads toward the school, feigning a casualness I can see right through. My protector. He’s having last minute nerves. I catch up and we turn the corner to the front of the school together. I’d have to be blind to miss the looks I get as we proceed, the whispers, the nods, the gasps. I think Dill can hear them too, though I’m not certain.
“Oh,” Dillon says, surprise in his tone. We’re walking up the front steps and I look around to see what caused his shock. Titan Banks leans against the building, just off to the side of the entrance. He doesn’t see us. His head is buried in his phone and there’s a smile on his face. It kind of erases some of the effects of the other crap that’s happening around me.
He finally looks away from his screen and the smile becomes more.
Dillon gets to him first. “Thanks, bro,” Dill says. “You’re kind of awesome. Thank you.”
“Hey, Dillon,” Titan says. They actually bump fists. It’s weird.
Dillon moves towards the entrance after a moment’s hesitation. He turns back and gives me his Dill smile one last time. “Remember Paris,” he says.
“Loser,” I reply. We share a look that is everything I need in this moment. It tells me he’ll be there for me at a second’s notice, that he’s just a text away.
“I’m sorry for my Dad,” Titan says once we’re alone. “He’s a bit of a prick.”
“I’m mostly sorry for mine, too. But we shouldn’t apologize for other people.”
“Come on, Kristy,” he says, leaving our fathers in the dust. “I’ll show you where your locker is.”
“Huh,” I say, ignoring the whispers about us. “How would you even know?”
He puts a hand out. “Come on.” I’m nervous at first, afraid to reach out for the offered hand. “I talked to the office. Arranged it. Made sure our lockers are together. Side by side.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“That’s why we need to be friends. There’s lots you don’t know about me. I get things done.”
The fear’s still there. The uncertainty bubbles just under the surface. But I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. We enter the building. All it takes is one more plea and I accept Titan’s hand, allow him to walk me to my locker. I catch our reflection in a trophy cabinet along the way. This is me. Finally. I look down at these amazing sleeves, the color of sunshine, and I realize I made it. This is me in Grade Nine. Kristy Mason. I’ve waited so long for this.
KEVIN CRAIG 