Christopher Bram’s novels have tackled subjects and characters as diverse as a paranormally touched musician, a Hollywood horror movie director obsessed with a sexy male gardener, a closeted Republican spreading gossip about D.C.’s elite, and a 1950s gay diplomat thrust into a sordid world of murder in Marcos-era Philippines. Yet the openly gay author’s latest tome, Lives of the Circus Animals (HarperCollins), doesn’t deal with elephants, lions, or bears (well, not the forest-dwelling variety at least). Bram’s critters in question are modern day New York theater scene denizens.

Amongst them: Henry Lewse, an openly gay British actor starring in a Broadway musical, Tom and Gerry; Caleb Doyle, an acclaimed young playwright whose new work, Chaos Theory, just bombed; his sister Jessie, also Henry’s assistant; Frank Earp, a former actor now directing student actors; Toby Vogler, one of his students and Caleb’s ex-boyfriend; and Kenneth Prager, The New York Times’ second-string theater critic. When these folks collide — in a believable yet skewed reality where drug deals go down at Times Square’s Milford Plaza hotel and jaded prepubescent aspiring thespians recognize NY Times critics on sight — the results are deliciously funny.

Born in 1952, the Virginia-raised Bram’s debut novel was 1987’s Surprising Myself, a queer coming of age tale. Since then, his eight acclaimed works have included 1989’s Hold Tight, 1992’s Almost History, 1996’s Father of Frankenstein (which was turned into Bill Condon’s Oscar-winning movie, Gods and Monsters), 1998’s Gossip, and 2000’s complex, century-spanning The Notorious Dr. August. Besides his novels, Bram has edited and contributed to anthologies and periodicals. Bram’s 2003 highlights include winning the Bill Whitehead Award for Lifetime Achievement, in addition to his new, delightfully comic novel. Recently we discussed Circus Animals, strategies for conquering writer’s block, experiences with gay erotic “literature,” and the (sort-of) sequel to Father of Frankenstein.

Gay and Lesbian Times: Are you a theater queen?

Christopher Bram: Not really. Maybe more a theater lady-in-waiting. I love movies. That’s my real love. But then, over years I’ve gotten to know lots of [theater] actors. My boyfriend Draper Shreeve has done theater work and through him we meet lots of actors. It’s a fascinating world.”

CB: In the character of Henry there’s a little bit of Ian McKellen, but also other actors I know. Actually, my agent is an actor, Edward Hibbert. He works as a literary agent and an actor. He’s a regular on “Frasier,” he was in Noises Off. He was in the Oscar Wilde play Gross Indecency.

CB: Of Kenneth Prager? It’s honest. I wish I’d done a little more with [his character]. He’s a secondary character, and considering what happens to him.... I feel sympathy for him. I’ve never had the power he’s had — he can make or break plays, which is not necessarily a good place to be in.

CB: I think it’s a job like any other job, to be honest. When I was a [movie] reviewer [for The New York Native] I enjoyed doing it. People assume critics hate everything. The truth is, you see so much stuff that’s bad that anything halfway good you’ll go overboard with in praise, beyond what it deserves. You do see so much that’s bad it can really wear on you, eat at the soul. My own experience with critics has been pretty good; I get the occasional stupid review but by and large they’re pretty smart, on target, and positive, so my portrait of Prager isn’t mean to be mean or satirical or getting even with anyone.

CB: Well, I always see a movie or a play. I’m kind of a misdirected filmmaker. Before I wrote novels I wanted to be a movie director and I began writing scripts. Then I realized scripts are such a strange animal, they’re neither fish nor fowl, so [I would] go ahead and write [a potential movie] as a short story or short novel and that’s how I began to write. I quickly realized this is what I really love, the writing. I had no desire to be an actor. Not much desire to be a director, but there’s still that love of movies in there. So when I’m writing I’ll kind of shift back and forth. If I’m blocked on a scene I’ll think “if this was two actors talking, what would they do? If a camera was photographing this what would it look like?” That will unblock me.

CB: I don’t think so. I used to write Clerihew (pronounced “clare-a-hyoo”). Start with a first name. Anyone’s name.

GLT: Tom Cruise.

CB: “Tom Cruise, was in the news, they said he was gay, he said no way.” That’s not a very good one. It’s two couplets; the first one needs to use their name. It’s called a Clerihew.

CB: Have I written porno... erotica? I’d say I haven’t, curiously. I’ve edited an anthology of erotica, Best Gay Erotica of 1998 (Cleis Press), and wrote the introduction. At one point between novels I had to take a job, so I worked for the publishers of Torso, Inches, and Juggs magazines. I used to edit porn all the time and it was fascinating in a weird sort of way because after a while you stop noticing it was porn. It just became a piece of writing. It could’ve been about automotive engineering with pistons going in and out. A lot of that was clearly written by somebody for whom that was how they masturbated. They would sit down and write this very generic sex story without any storyline or anything interesting going on or any good language or sense of humor.”

GLT: Timmy was in the locker room changing...

CB: “...and then they had great, hot sex.” Those were just kind of boring. But then there’d be people who really knew how to write a good erotic story where they have plot, character, language, and it all turned on somebody getting laid and getting off. Interestingly, when I was editing porn some of our best writers were inmates! They had all this time on their hands and sexual energy to put to use. One of them did a great parody of Mickey Spillane. He managed to have a really good murder mystery worked into it and somebody got laid and they all climaxed simultaneously in 3,000 words.

CB: I have — every one of my books, basically to enable me to finish it. Life always goes on, so if you tell yourself this [next chapter] will just be chapter one and I can continue, it enables you to find the best place to stop. Father of Frankenstein went on and had an epilogue, which I cut. The book didn’t need it. But when Bill Condon was writing the script he felt it needed something at the end. He called me and I said you can try what I did in the novel. I had an epilogue; it was years later and Clay was married and had kids and wakes up his eight-year-old son to watch Bride of Frankenstein. And Bill said, “And you couldn’t use that? Mind if I do?” I said go ahead, it might work better on film, and it did.

CB: A trick of the trade? No matter how badly you write, keep writing. Tell yourself you can always fix it in rewrite. Give yourself permission to write badly. You’re going to make mistakes so go ahead and make them in the first draft; you can fix them later.