Feaver Crescent

When I was thirteen years old I spent a summer in a very covert sexual relationship with a woman twice my age. Although my own narrative doesn’t play out in the same manner as my protagonist’s does (not by any stretch as Faever Crescent is a complete work of fiction), I have bumped up against a lot of similarities – the fact that I tend to consider my own story exceptional for example, in that I have never viewed myself as a victim of any sort of crime despite the obvious legal issues. I grew up fast where I come from and felt, as Garret notes in early voice over, that I was beyond my years, almost as though I were an adult already at thirteen and my age was simply a “minor” inconvenience. But throughout the course of writing this story my attitude has altered somewhat as I’ve been forced to confront what it is exactly that I’m trying to say in respect to my main character. But where my fictional story deviates dramatically from my own is the subject of sexual addiction – a subject which remains grey and controversial despite the best research and expert opinions available. Whole industries have grown up around and for the treatment of sexual addiction, yet some experts maintain that it doesn’t even exist, that addiction can only be associated with substance abuse issues. Church groups maintain that sexual addiction is merely an excuse, a cover for low moral standards. The issue of abstinence also varies wildly off course when compared to what abstinence means to the alcoholic, for example. The drug addict’s best chance at recovery is to abstain from using their drug of choice. But for the so-called sex addict, or the sexually compulsive individual, abstinence can hardly be as cut and dry. Humans need sex. I’ve set Garret up as a man blind to the consequences of his past behavior and who has obviously projected his history onto his present day relationships – his inability to connect and to achieve genuine intimacy has landed him in serious trouble over the years. Garret’s present day behavior appears to be directly connected to the events of his early adolescent with his former “abuser”, the alluring Meredith. He is at a crossroads, confronted with the prospect of a stable family and a secure “normal” lifestyle at a time when he is triggered to confront the worst of his past behaviors. Perhaps if Meredith hadn’t suddenly reappeared in his world Garret might have coasted along for another few years without much drama – perhaps fatherhood may have altered his psyche in such a way that his sexually compulsive nature would have naturally taken a back seat. For a time. But I believe that eventually it all rises to the surface no matter how or, for how long, it gets suppressed.
Back to the reality of storytelling, in terms of what’s at stake for my character, I can’t think of a more ideal time to toss a woman like Meredith into the mix. Here is a character that not only appears to play a major role in the roots of Garret’s sexual acting out, but is at the same time maintaining her own innocence throughout and casting much doubt on Garret’s nature and motivations. Garret is not a traditional protagonist in any sense, but nor is he necessarily an anti-hero. Meredith’s conviction that she is a victim of heresy and fanciful revelations by a sick individual such as Garret furthers the reader’s inability to trust him just as those close to him (like his beautiful fiancé Shalyn and his friend and co-worker Leonce) can’t seem to trust him either. But as it turns out, Meredith’s stance is a mere power play born of
self-preservation. And this ultimately brings me around to one of the major themes being developed in this story – the murky subject of sexual power. My intent right now is for all my scenes and interactions to double back on the idea of the ownership of sexual power, from the simple scene between Garret and Leonce at the bar where they are discussing contracting plans, to the scene between Meredith and her daughter Jesse in the hallway outside Meredith’s bedroom at night, to the spontaneous sex scene with Garret and Shalyn, the scene in the massage parlour where Garret abruptly changes his mind and walks away, to the uncomfortable scene between Garret and Jesse in his car where he pulls over and has sex with her in an abandoned parking lot, and indeed every single scene in the flashbacks with young Garret and young Meredith – all of these scenes are dealing with the idea of sexual power on some level. So maybe that’s what I’m trying to work out in my writing – where intimacy finds its place in all this, where the line exists between seduction and manipulation and what this tension means to the ones who are left to ride out the consequences. But ultimately what am I trying to “say” as the writer? I don’t think I’m trying to offer up any sort of message or solution. More accurately I’m trying to avoid that at all costs. I’m just wanting to tell an observant, intriguing story that can be as interpretive as sexuality itself. Less a portraiture of a struggling sex addict, Faever Crescent aims to be a character piece disguised as a sexual thriller that I anticipate will be provocative and intriguing to a broad audience.