Half-way point of NaNoWriMo!

Hey, everyone! Well, I'm actually a day past the half-way point, and I wanted to write a little editorial and share an update with you. Currently, I'm at 26,197 words, well on my way to making it to 50,000 by the end of the month. I'm pleased with where the story is going so far. If you have checked it out, it's clear that it needs refining. I've found some story line that I've started (the Bonnie and Bryan thing for instance) either need to be fleshed out a little, or dropped. Subsequent drafts will figure that out for me, I suppose.

I've made an editorial decison here, with the help of my friend Steve Hayford. I'm going to remove the past entries from this site. I really didn't think about this as I was writing it - but I'm posting this stuff up on the web for anyone to possibly look at. As I've been diving more into Steven's character, I'm noticing his life is getting more and more perverted. I've been concerned that it's too graphic for my audience. How about throwing it all up on the web where anyone, without a filter, can read it? No good. So, if you're interested in reading the back story, you can e-mail me at darren.barkman@gmail.com and I'll send it to you, so you can read it privately.

As far as going forward, here's the next installment. From here, Steven's life should be looking up -

“Heather, it’s Steve. Are you there?“ Steven inquired after the beep began recording a message. “Honey, I want to talk to you. Heather, I don’t know what’s...“
The answering machine shut off, but the phone didn’t hang up. Heather picked up the phone. She was silent for a moment on the other end. Then Steven could hear Heather breathing heavy, trying to control the tears.
“I’m here, Steven.“
“Good. Listen Heather, I don’t know what you saw or heard, but you’ve got to give me a chance to explain! I love you!“
“BULLSHIT!“ Heather screamed into the phone. Steven had never heard her swear before. It was startling. “You don’t love me. How do you sleep with other women if you love me?“
“Where did you get the idea that I slept with someone else?“ Steven tried to whisper into the phone, not wanting Dr. Singleton and Dr. Wiloughby to hear this part of the conversation. It was a futile attempt.
“Don’t play mindgames with me! April 14? Dayton? LOTSLUV? The tramp sent me a picture. She’s in your book!”
Steven’s anger rose. “Did you go into my office and use my computer? I told you that room is off limits to you and Breeanna! You have no right being in there!”
“I have a right to know when my husband’s having sex with another woman! Are there any others? How about today? Where were you today? Who were you with?”
Steven was feeling more and more like a cornered animal. He could feel the blood pressure rising. “Look, I’m not going to do this over the phone. I’ll come home tomorrow and I’ll straighten the whole thing out. Trust me.”
“Trust?” Heather yelled. “I’m going to trust you? You told me when I found you with those magazines that you were throwing them out and not going to act out sexually anymore. You said it was a phase and you were done. That’s was a load of crap, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?”
Steven couldn’t answer. He couldn’t refute the truth. Heather’s strength was growing. She was not crying anymore.
“There are thousands of pictures on the hard drive in your office. You still have a stack of magazines in your desk drawer. And now I find you’re actually having sex when you’re out of town. You’ve been lying to me the whole time. Our marriage is one big lie.”
Steven still couldn’t answer her. But his silence was answer enough.
“Bree and I are leaving. We’re going to Ruth Ann’s in Shortville.”
“For good?” Steven asked quietly.
“I really don’t know. I never thought I would consider divorce until tonight. When I’ve talked to girls who talk about it, I always said, ’Divorce is never an option.’. But I guess that changes when it hits you this close.”
“I do love you, Heather. I always have.”
Heather started to cry again. “Stop saying that. You can’t love me and hurt me like this.”
“Heather, please, I...”
“I’ve got to go, Steven. Goodbye.”
Steven closed his phone and stared at the wall in disbelief. He was in shock. Steven tried to cover his tracks as he turned around to face the doctors again.
“My wife. She’s under a lot of stress.”
Dr. Singleton got right in Steven’s face. “She’s on to you, son. We’re on to you. You are out of control! You need help! A lot of help!“
“I’m telling you - I’m not an addict! What’s the big deal? I like to look at women. What man doesn’t?”
“This is not healthy,” Dr. Wiloughby said, shaking the pictures of the Rubber Goddess at Steven. “This is perversion! For any man, it’s sick and twisted; much less for a man of supposed godly character! If you don’t get control of it, it’s going to destroy you. It’s starting to destroy you now!”
Steven turned away from Dr. Wiloughby, staring into the corner.
“Marcus,” Dr. Singleton asked Dr. Wiloughby. “What’s the name of that residential place in Montana for sexual addicts?“
“The ranch? I think it’s called Liberty Hill. Do you want me to call?“
“Yes, I’d like to make a reservation for Steven.” Dr. Singleton summarized. “We can get him on the first flight out tomorrow morning. I’ll pull some favors and get him admitted.
“Steven, I already talked to my lawyer. If we inform the police that you’re going to the treatment program, they’ll take your statement and release you; you won‘t face the public lewdness charges. You’d be released to us to transfer you to the program. Meanwhile, Marcus, we can hold the press conference in the morning and try to explain what‘s going on...”
“Would you like to let me have a say in all this?” Steven interjected. “You can’t just ship me off to some no man’s land! It‘s my life! I‘ll do what I want and I‘ll fix this my way!”
Dr. Singleton interrupted. “YOUR WAY? All right, Mr. Hassmann. You don’t want us to help you? Fine. If you want to face the cruel world by yourself,” Dr. Singleton stepped away from the door and gestured Steven toward it, “be my guest. Leave now. You’re free to go about it alone and face the consequences of your actions. But consider this: being on your own got you into this position. Living in isolation has made you into this...creature. As one of your spiritual authorities, I’m stepping in. You need this rebuke, Steven. It’s for your good.
“Look at the facts, Steven: your wife is leaving you; no doubt your daughter is emotionally damaged; you’ve ripped your ministry apart; when your congregation finds out what’s going on, they’ll all be wounded; no doubt all who supported you for leadership in the NEU will feel deceived. I don’t even know who you really are, son. Who is the real Steven Hassmann? The strong man of righteousness the world has admired for so many years; or the pervert who was jerking off in a sex shop today? You‘re destroying everything you have and everyone around you and all you want to do is fill your life with more sex! You‘re an addict, Steven! A depraved addict!”
Steven began to cry. “I can’t stop, all right? You want me to say it? I’m saying it! OK, I’m a pervert! I’m disgusting! But I love it! I love looking at girls on the internet! I love the rush I get when I see them. It makes me feel so good! And at that place today, when I was watching that girl bend her body, she looked at me and told me she wished she could do that while we were having sex. I need that! I feel so alive! So FREE!”
“But it’s sin, Steven! Don’t you see you’re being controlled by your lust? You‘re not free! It‘s bondage!” Dr. Wiloughby cried.
“I need it. I don’t know how to go without it.”
“Steven, you’ve got to figure something out. For the ake of your marriage and your ministry, if you hope to salvage anything of your future, you’ve got to come clean and get some help.”
“I know...I know...” He sat down in one of the chairs and buried his face in his hands. The crying turned to deep groaning and relieving of the weight Steven had been carrying for so many years. All the way back to that first battle of shame in the car with his first magazine. Steven had never let this emotion out. There was a lot to face. Both of Steven’s mentors put their hands on his shoulders as Steven broke down. “I hate myself! Oh, it hurts! IT HURTS!!!” Steven screamed in what seemed like physical pain.
Dr. Singleton began to pray silently as Steven broke down.
Steven continued to cry uncontrollably. His mind was racing as the pain began to surface. He knew this day had to come. It was nearly thirty years in the making. A judgment day. All of the pain and sin he stuffed down in his heart seemed to fly out all at once. And it was hurting Steven to have it rise up. He had been in counseling sessions with people who had cried in grief like this. He always seemed at a loss as to what to do. Should he pray? Talk? Sing? Leave them alone? Now that he was the one crying on the floor, he doubly didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to hear spiritual platitudes; he’d said enough of them in his life. He realized that a simple verse or a nice phrase wasn’t going to heal him. This was new for Steven. The typical religious response that supposedly made him look wise and the needy person feel better was exposed. Deep in his heart, he knew he needed a better way. But he had no idea how to find it. Steven just continued to weep.
A knock came at the door. Dr. Wiloughby left Steven’s side and opened the door just a crack. It was Nancy, his assistant.
“What’s going on, Doctor? The media knows something’s up. Where Rev. Hassmann? Who’s that crying in there?”
“Nancy, tell them all to go home. We’ll speak in the morning.” Dr. Wiloughby took a sneak peek back in the room to see Steven laying on the floor, facedown, continuing to pour out all of the hurt and sorrow from a life of hidden sin.
“All is well, dear. All is well.”