Category Archives: Writing

April 1, 2013 · 7:59 pm

“Billy’s Bones” has been contracted!

I just signed a contract with Dreamspinner for my psychological drama, Billy’s Bones! For those who haven’t been following my progress on that novel, here’s the “blurb” I sent in my cover letter:

Kevin Derocher was just thirty-two when he walked into Tom’s office, newly married, a baby on the way, and the collar of his red flannel shirt pulled up in an attempt to hide the bruises around his throat caused by hanging himself in his garage. After this initial encounter, therapist Tom Langois is convinced he’ll never see Kevin again, until the man turns up three years later to make repairs on Tom’s new house.

The two men become fast friends and Tom begins to suspect that Kevin may be interested in more than just friendship. But Kevin is haunted by something from his distant childhood—something so terrible that he’s blocked it from his mind. Not only do these suppressed memories make it impossible for Kevin to get close to anyone without panicking and lashing out, sometimes violently, but as they begin to surface, it becomes apparent that Kevin may hold the key to the disappearance of a boy from his neighborhood twenty-five years ago.

The picture on the left is what I pictured Kevin looking like. Tom looks like this guy:

We’re looking at a release date sometime in late July or maybe early August!

So this week I decided to go back and re-read the novel. I’d already had a conversation with my mother, who is a psychologist with experience treating PTSD, and I learned that I’d handled several things incorrectly in the therapy scenes. Or you might say I had Tom and Susan doing things the way they used to be done, and psychology has learned a thing or two since then. For example, it’s no longer considered essential (by many therapists) to pressure the client to remember suppressed memories. That can cause them more trauma than simply leaving things alone. And giving someone something to relax him, such as Valium, before experiencing a possible trigger in a controlled setting isn’t as good an idea as I’d thought. It can do additional harm by distorting the memories further. (Some therapists don’t believe in repressed memories, but my mother has worked with enough cases to take them seriously.)

So I sent Mom the specific scenes in question to get some feedback on how to make them more realistic. Hopefully, since the novel is already contracted, we’re just talking about tweaking things a little. In the future, I’ll remember: always check with Mom!

In re-reading the novel, I’m still finding it engrossing. But Tom is seeming a bit more like an asshole than I remembered. My beta readers didn’t seem to hate him, so maybe I’m just seeing him from a bad angle at the moment. But I may try to make him a bit less pushy in edits.

Of course, the really frustrating thing about re-reading a novel after it’s been submitted, but before the first edits come in from the editors is that the typos and mistakes I find, I can’t correct.

How on earth did I not notice that I’d failed to capitalize one sentence?

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Filed under Drama, gay, Psychological Drama, Romance, Writing

Tagged as Billy's Bones, contract, dreamspinner, editing, jamie fessenden, psychology, PTSD, publishing, repressed memories, writing

March 19, 2013 · 11:02 pm

Guest blogger: Augusta Li on Point of View

Hi everybody! Gus here. A big hug and a huge thank you to Jamie for letting me stop by!

For today’s post on my tour to support my latest release, Ice and Embers, I’m going to attempt to tackle what can be tough and prickly subject: point of view.

A lot of readers and reviewers consider “head-hopping”—switching from one character’s point of view to another—an error and an amateurish mistake. In some cases this is true; in my other role as an editor I see it often and suggest authors change it—when it isn’t used consistently or with good reason. That is to say, when it’s actually an oversight and not used intentionally by the author to convey something.

The third person omniscient point of view is a method of storytelling in which the author dips into the heads of all the characters and knows their thoughts and can look through their eyes. One of the most famous examples of this type of fiction is Anna Karenina. Terry Pratchett also uses it frequently, and it is a legitimate, if difficult to pull off, point of view. Of course the author has to be very careful to let readers know which character’s head they are in, and it can become confusing unless the narrator is very clear.

Third person limited point of view sticks to looking through the eyes of a single character, and it’s the style of storytelling I usually prefer. When I wrote Ash and Echoes, the book before Ice and Embers, I realized early on that my characters were so vastly different that each of them needed his own voice. I decided against the third person omniscient point of view because the characters had such disparate thought processes and world views. Instead, I chose the third person limited, though I opted to alternate between the characters, just not in the same scene. I chose to stay with a single character within a scene and switch to another when the scene changed.

I took some heat from some reviewers for this decision, as they felt it was “head-hopping” and assumed I just didn’t know any better. Even so, I chose to stick with this approach for the second book in the series. Why?

I believe everything a person, or a character, experiences colors how he sees the world. People are, to an extent, the sum of their pasts. This can affect everything from what a character thinks or feels in a given situation down to the details he notices. An excellent example of how peoples’ perceptions can dictate how they view events is Akira Kurosawa’s stellar 1950 film Rashoman, in which several characters recount their experiences regarding the murder of a samurai. Because of their different backgrounds, each of these people tells a vastly different story. The film poses the question of what is truth, and whether truth is different for each person based upon his or her perceptions. After all, a notorious criminal will see things differently than the wife of a murdered samurai.

I’d like to make it clear that I’m not comparing myself to Kurosawa! But his insight into the human psyche is valuable to anyone hoping to depict the human condition. Who we are, what we believe, what we’ve experience, and what we value affects how we perceive the world. This is why I needed to give readers the opportunity to look through the eyes of each of my characters. Their backgrounds are varied, and it colors not only what they think and feel but how they see the world and the events around them. Yarrow, my mage, grew up as the third son of a noble family and was largely ignored and dismissed. This taught him to rely on himself and his own opinions over those of others, and it made him a little defensive. Duncan trained for the knighthood from a young age and holds close to the sense of honor he learned there. Sasha was raised almost from birth by a cult of assassins, and they taught him to suppress and mistrust emotion. In some ways, he’s the polar opposite of Duncan. I wanted my readers to have a chance to experience the world through each of the character’s very different minds and perceptions.

Sasha doesn’t see the world as Duncan sees it. A prime example of this occurs when Duncan is meeting with his vassals in his hall. He sits in an alcove surrounded by three tall windows which afford a wonderful view of the sea. Duncan and most others see the beauty in the architecture and the surroundings, while Sasha sees a strategic weakness: those windows are a prime opportunity for an archer and hard to protect against. Because of how he has been brought up, Sasha looks for potential threats everywhere and formulates plans to defend himself and his friends. It isn’t easy for him to abandon this mindset and start to appreciate the pleasures the world can offer.

It’s been said you can’t know someone until you walk a mile in his shoes. I want my readers to know my characters by walking in their shoes and seeing through their eyes, and that’s why I chose to alternate between their points of view. Authors, how do you differentiate characters from one another? And readers, what point of view brings you closest to the characters? First person? Third limited to a single character? Omniscient? What do you prefer and why?

Don’t forget my Dreamspinner Press titles are all 25% off from March 15^th to the 22^nd in celebration of this release. You can see what I have on sale here: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_366

And stop by my blog and sign up to win a copy of Ice and Embers and a cell phone charm or bracelet!

http://www.booksbyeonandgus.com/2013/03/12/ice-and-embers-blog-tour-and-giveaway/

And here’s the blurb and an excerpt from Ice and Embers:

Despite their disparate natures, Yarrow, Duncan, and Sasha united against overwhelming odds to save Prince Garith’s life. Now Garith is king and the three friends may be facing their undoing.

Distraught over Yarrow’s departure to find the cure to his magical affliction, Duncan struggles with his new role as Bairn of Windwake, a realm left bankrupt by his predecessor. Many of Duncan’s vassals conspire against him, and Sasha’s unorthodox solutions to Duncan’s problem have earned them the contempt of Garith’s nobles.

When word reaches Duncan and Sasha that Yarrow is in danger, they want nothing more than to rush to his aid. But Duncan’s absence could tip Windwake into the hands of his enemies. In addition, a near-mythic order of assassins wants Sasha dead. Without Yarrow, Duncan and Sasha can’t take the fight to the assassins. They are stuck, entangled in a political world they don’t understand. But finding Yarrow may cause more problems, and with his court divided, King Garith must strike a balance between supporting his friends and assuaging the nobles who want Duncan punished—and Sasha executed.

Excerpt:

THE bairn of Windwake cast off his golden ceremonial cloak emblazoned with the crag eagle livery and let it fall heavily to the stone floor of his chambers. Duncan collapsed into an upholstered chair by the inglenook and rubbed his forehead. The fire had long ago diminished to embers, leaving the expansive suite dark and chill on this early spring night. Ruling Windwake had turned out nothing like he’d imagined, and the stresses of yet another day of listening to the demands of squabbling nobles wore on him. When Duncan had been granted his lands and title, he’d anticipated protecting and providing for his people, much as he’d done when he’d been a knight. The reality clashed hard against his expectations. He’d rather face an entire field of soldiers than those nattering, duplicitous aristocrats any day. At least men with swords were honest about wanting to destroy him, and he knew how to counter them.

Duncan had no sooner let his eyes fall shut and his head rest against the padded velvet of the chair when he heard a sound, even softer than the flutter of a night bird’s wings, on the balcony opposite his hearth. He tensed, his exhaustion replaced by alertness. Many of his vassals couldn’t be trusted; he found them avaricious, their only loyalty to their own treasuries. Some of them still owed fealty to Taran Edercrest, the traitor whose mantle Duncan had assumed after the man’s death in a failed attempt to overthrow Selindria’s true king. Duncan knew at least a few of the backstabbing nobles might stoop to murder if they could profit from it. He crept as quietly as he could to the weapons stand and picked up his greatsword. He held it in both hands as he approached the balcony, ready to defend himself.

With the sole of his boot, Duncan nudged the wooden double doors, and they swung open with a rasp and a groan. The red-tinged crescent moon provided little light as he glanced from one end of the parapet to the other. Nothing moved except a few leaves tumbling across the stone in the light breeze. Duncan blinked hard as sweat dripped into his eyes. He knew he’d heard something, but now he wondered if the combination of his weariness and the ever-present threat of treachery toyed with his mind. He’d never been a paranoid man, but as he stood looking out from the western side of Windust Castle, over the deep, round Barrier Bay, sheltered on three sides by high cliffs, he heard nothing but the gentle lap of the waves against the strong, gray ironstone that made up so much of Windwake. On a clear day, Duncan could see almost to the southern shore of Lockhaven from this balcony, but the gloom of the night and the chill mist rising from the water restricted his vision to the dozens of ships huddled close to the shore, bobbing gently on the calm tide.

“You should be more careful.”

Duncan started and turned toward the low, velvety voice. He scanned the shadows but couldn’t locate the speaker. Then, at the opposite end of the terrace, a sliver of shade separated from the wall, and a lithe silhouette tiptoed along the thin, stone railing before leaping down in front of Duncan without even disturbing the leaves. His boots met the stone silently, and the leather armor he wore didn’t even creak or rustle.

Duncan blew out an extended breath and lowered his weapon. “Goddesses, Sasha. Why must you sneak around like that? I could have cut you in two before I recognized you.”

Sasha answered with a sensuous laugh devoid of any genuine amusement. “I don’t think you could have.”

“Perhaps not,” Duncan conceded, his happiness at his lover’s return trumping his slight annoyance. Besides, he knew Sasha spoke not out of arrogance but simply stated the truth. Sasha had been trained by a cult of assassins so legendary and feared most doubted they even existed. The Order of the Crimson Scythe held mythical status throughout Selindria and Gaeltheon, and Duncan had witnessed Sasha’s lethal skill on more than one occasion. If he’d been inclined, Sasha could have cut Duncan’s throat while Duncan stood watching the boats like a dull-witted child.

Sasha’s training was also responsible for what Duncan saw when he stepped closer to his partner: a face that, while exotically beautiful, betrayed no hint of emotion. Shrewd, black eyes offered no clue of the intentions behind them. Though they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, Duncan looked into the cold face of a killer, not the warm smile of a lover. He tried, unsuccessfully, to staunch the hurt by reminding himself Sasha had been taught almost since birth not to feel love or attachment, let alone show evidence of what he’d been told was weakness.

Duncan reached up and stroked the soft, black hair that fell to Sasha’s slender shoulders. Sasha batted his long, thick lashes and smiled mischievously. He had the most amazing, full, dark lips Duncan had ever seen, and the sight of them curling up and parting slightly sent a tremor of desire down Duncan’s spine. He hoped Sasha showed sincere pleasure at his touch, as much pleasure as he experienced feeling the smooth skin of Sasha’s cheek again after what seemed like forever. Sasha had no reason to perform with Duncan, but Duncan knew old habits held on tenaciously sometimes, like a cough that lingered after the fever had passed.

“I missed you,” he said, pressing a kiss to Sasha’s forehead. “But you could try using the front gate like a normal man. Or are you trying to impress me?”

Sasha curled his body against Duncan and brushed their bellies together. He rubbed his face against Duncan’s whiskers and whispered close to his ear. “Did it work?”

Duncan glanced over the railing at the sheer, four-story drop to the sharp rocks surrounding the fortress. A wide gravel road wound out around those cliffs from the docks to the gate at the southern wall, on the opposite side of the fortress. Aside from that entrance, Windust was virtually impenetrable. “I suppose it did. Did your—” Duncan still felt uncomfortable discussing Sasha’s work. “Were you successful?”

Sasha snorted as if insulted and crossed his arms over his slim chest. His devastating smile widened. “Pym Goodsal and his associates will cause no more trouble for your friend Garith.”

“His Majesty will be pleased,” Duncan said, taking Sasha’s gloved hand, careful of the thin blades hidden at his wrists and the razor-like spikes over his knuckles, and leading him inside.

Sasha shrugged. “So long as he produces the agreed-upon gold.”

Duncan almost asked what Sasha would do if Garith, High King of Selindria and Gaeltheon, the largest and most powerful kingdom in the known world, withheld the payment. He thought better of it, though, and went instead to add logs to the fire and stir up the coals. By now, Duncan knew Sasha regarded a prince and a beggar alike only as men who bled and died for his Cast-Down god.

Sasha removed his gloves, loosening the buckles and then tugging them off one finger at a time, while Duncan poked at the ashes in the hearth. Sasha unbuckled the belts over his hips that held daggers and pouches likely full of poisons, and then he unfastened the strap crossing his chest, along with the weapons it held, and let it drop onto a wooden bench. Sasha effortlessly disarmed himself in absolute silence. Duncan admired Sasha’s grace and fluidity of movement from the corner of his eye as he tended the fire. The room soon glowed warm and bright as the flames flickered and grew. Orange light reflected off the snug, deep-red leather wrapping Sasha’s slender limbs and made shadows dance across his face. The fire couldn’t melt the icy mask the assassin wore, but Duncan knew what might. He replaced the iron poker and crossed the room to Sasha, who stood only a few feet from the balcony door, as if waiting to be invited inside, seemingly unsure of his welcome.

Duncan curled his big hands around Sasha’s waist, almost encircling it. He drew Sasha’s chest against his, rubbed his palm up Sasha’s back to his neck, and guided Sasha’s head to his shoulder. Burying his face in the top of Sasha’s hair, he inhaled the spicy fragrance that almost masked the scents of leather, steel, and blood. “Sasha, this is your home as much as mine. I wouldn’t have any of it if it hadn’t been for you. You don’t have to enter it in secret.”

Sasha laughed icily, but his lips and nose felt warm as he nuzzled against Duncan’s neck. The tickle of his breath against Duncan’s dampening skin when he spoke made Duncan shudder. “So, you’d parade me before your nobles and officials? Claim me as part of your household, as your friend?”

Holding Sasha’s cheeks in both hands, Duncan tilted his face upward and made Sasha meet his eyes. He searched for some trace of emotion in those glittering, black orbs but saw only his own conflicted face reflected back at him in distorted miniature. “I would. Why do you make it sound so absurd? I’ll tell them anything you like, anything that will make you happy. Sasha, you know I love you.”

“I know.” The assassin tried to look away as he furrowed his brow and turned down his lips, but Duncan held him, not letting him hide what he felt.

A fake smile replaced Sasha’s concerned expression. “You’d lose your bairny if anyone discovered the nature of our association,” he said with false cheer. “I understand better than most the need for secrecy. It’s of little consequence how I enter the castle, anyway. I’m used to standing in the shadows.”

Duncan hated it when his partner walled himself off, but he didn’t know how to breach barriers that had been in place so long. Battering them down would not do, he’d learned. If he pushed too hard, Sasha would instinctively close him out, so he slid his hands down Sasha’s lithe arms, clasped his hands, and led him to the massive bed canopied in gold and black velvet. They sat facing each other on the edge. Sasha pulled his heel to his crotch.

“Are you hungry?” Duncan asked, stroking up and down Sasha’s thigh, savoring the feel of taut muscles beneath buttery leather. “Shall I have something sent up from the kitchens? My servants, at least, still respect my wishes.”

Sasha edged closer and draped his hand over Duncan’s knee. “Thank you, my friend. But not just now. Is there nothing on your mind besides food?”

Guest blogging on Guys Like Romance, Too!

Join me on the Guys Like Romance, Too! blog this week, as I talk about the connection between music and alchemy and the human soul in the Renaissance, in my blog post entitled Music, Magick and Murder!

I’ll be sending the final galley proofs back to my editor tonight, after which it will be out of my hands until publication. The novel will be released on April 8th!

In other news, I just signed a contract for Billy’s Bones! That makes my sixth full-length novel! The tentative release date for that will be sometime in late July or early August!

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Filed under gay, Guest Blogger, Murderous Requiem, Mystery, occult, Occult/Paranormal, Psychological Drama, Romance, Writing

Tagged as Billy's Bones, guest blog, Guys Like Romance Too, jamie fessenden, Murderous Requiem

March 8, 2013 · 12:55 am

Guest Blogger: Grace Duncan on World Building, Geography & Climate

It is no secret by now that I love research. For anyone who’s kept up with my blog posts (especially the last one about research) or read my bio, they are, undoubtedly, aware of just how much I do. Some of it isn’t necessary, but that’s okay. I love it and I feel it makes a world much fuller and more realistic if you include all the right details.

One big portion of that is the world-building. Most of us have a general idea when and where our story will take place, but refining that into something that can become real, that the reader can feel and smell and hear takes a lot more thought – and the aforementioned research.

I had a firm picture in my head of what the world was that Teman came from and where he lived. I knew it was a desert, I knew he roamed (he was a gypsy, after all). I knew what the city they were in during the opening chapter looked like in my head. I just had to get that on paper.

The pictures I found were amazing! It’s very easy for me to get lost in the first place on the internet and when I found so much that was exactly what was in my head, it took a supreme effort to remember I had a lot to do. I discovered that the second series of Ubisoft’s Assassin’s Creed games had a lot, visually, of what I thought my world should look like. Set at a later time than my story (Assassin’s Creed: Revelations happens during the Renaissance) but the desert cities didn’t change all that much in that time, so I knew I’d found what my city looked like.

I have boatloads of details in my head that never made it into the book which is, I think, one of the downfalls of world-building. I have so much I want to tell about! So much I want to put in! But I know that I wouldn’t necessarily want to read pages and pages of description like some of my favorite authors are guilty of (*coughTolkiencough*). So even though I know that there is a large, busy marketplace that runs from the river dock through a number of the tight, winding streets, it didn’t make it in there. Even though I can see the tiny alleys, hear the fishwife calling her wares or smell the roasting lamb, it stays in my head. And though I know that Behekem contains everything from the shady parts of town (with the taverns Teman undoubtedly patronized before being caught) to the upper class districts (where the nobility keeps residences while they are there), it’s something I just have to make notes on and hope someday I get the chance to put it in a blog post like this.

But Neyem’s capital city of Behekam was only a small part of the world. I quickly realized that the main city (and its palace, which I loosely base off of the Blue Mosque in Turkey) was by far, not the only setting I’d be using and set out to draw a very rudimentary map. Thankfully, Jamie rescued me and took my (really basic) map and turned it into something quite beautiful (See above). So as I started to put together my outline, I saw desert trips, other cities and even an oasis to include.

So back to the drawing board I went to decide on the other countries. My world is small, I will readily admit that. But I decided that Neyem, its neighbors and the politics surrounding it all didn’t necessarily need to be huge. So I made my own choices and gathered Europe and Asia and brought them much closer.

To the northwest is Saol. Think Medieval England the names are Celtic, the vegetation very European and the country, in general… quite vague. I needed contrast to Neyem and the Asian-based neighbor Tiantang, but knew that I wasn’t going to need remarkably more than that. So I settled on the country, the capital (Calafort) and a rather… entertaining gentleman who serves as its ambassador. I do hope you enjoy reading Lord Atherol as much as I enjoyed writing him.

To the southwest, then, is Tiantang. Obviously Asian, it is unashamedly patterned after China. The Empress Tian lives in a palace that is, in essence, the Forbidden City and I spent great gobs of time looking through pictures of it and China in general (though weeding though the pictures of the Great Wall was annoying). So when I finally pulled myself out of the Internet and started writing about Bathasar, Teman and their company approaching the city, I am sure I spent too much time describing it. A big part of it was inspired by this picture:

Duankou, Tiantang’s capital city is an odd mix of the three countries in my world: Tiantang (of course), Neyem and Saol. It is a prominent port city with a spot on my world’s version of the Silk Road – the overland trade routes. No wonder it’s a conglomeration of the world. It is set up in districts – one for Saol, one for Neyem and the biggest (of course) is for Tiantang, all characterized by their architecture and marketplaces.

The world of Choices is relatively small, but I hope it still feels full and diverse with enough details to pull the reader in and give them the opportunity to feel and hear it. I certainly enjoyed making it and put even more of it into the next book, Deception. What do you like to see in the worlds you read and write about? What makes it real for you?

Do be sure to leave a comment so that I can award a bag of goodies to someone!

Thank you so much, Jamie, for hosting me! It’s a real honor and pleasure.

Born and raised a gypsy in the late eleventh century, Teman values freedom over everything. He and his best friend, Jasim, are thieves for hire—until one night they’re caught and their precious freedom is revoked. Given the choice between the dungeons or palace pleasure slavery, they become slaves, but Teman vows to escape someday.

Bathasar doesn’t want the throne. He supports his brother instead, which suits their sadistic father, Mukesh. When Teman, the handsome slave Bathasar has secretly been watching, saves his life, Bathasar requests a slave for the first time. Before long, Bathasar and Teman fall in love. But all is not well. One day Mukesh brutalizes Teman before the court, angering the empress of a neighboring nation. To appease her, he then offers her Jasim as a gift, and Teman decides to stay with Bathasar for now—despite the abuse he may suffer.

The peace doesn’t last. Mukesh plans to invade Jasim’s new country, and Bathasar must find a way to stop the destruction. But if he succeeds, he’ll ascend to the throne and have the power to grant Teman his liberty. Then Teman will surely leave him. What other choice could a gypsy make?

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Filed under Fantasy, gay, Guest Blogger, World Building, Writing

Tagged as Choices, fantasy, Grace Duncan, guest blogger, World Building

March 1, 2013 · 6:04 pm

An excerpt from “Shinosuke”

I’ve been working on the final novel in my YA fantasy trilogy over the past couple months, along with editing Murderous Requiem for it’s scheduled release of April 8th, but over the past week or so I’ve been bitten by the Japanese culture bug again. I’m not sure why, but every year since I was about 17, I have a short attack of Japanese culture. I get obsessed with Japanese movies and dig out my Japanese language books and CDs and start eating Japanese food.

It was during one of these “attacks” that I began an adaptation of a Japanese story written in the 17th century by Ihara Saikaku called “The Tragic Love of Two Enemies,” about a samurai in love with a young man who doesn’t know that the samurai killed his father. It’s been difficult going, because of all the research I’ve had to do to keep the feudal setting believable and I’m probably only half done with it. But I dug it out and dusted it off yesterday and was very pleased with what I’ve written so far.

Here’s one of the scenes I like. Shinosuke is the young man (18-years-old in my story, though he was younger in the original) and the samurai is Senpachi. At this point in the story, the attraction between the two characters is clear to both of them, but Senpachi has been resisting it. They’ve decided to take a break from sword-fighting practice to relax in the shade of a cherry tree.

Senpachi stretched out on the petal-strewn grass, alongside Shinosuke. This brought them physically closer than he’d allowed them to be, since that first evening in the ofuro. But the moment seemed to warrant it.

“Let me tell you a story. When I was about your age, there was a man—Sato Haruki. He was…older, and very experienced on the battlefield. He’d fought at Seikigahara. We were both assigned to the same unit, under the command of your father. Haruki took me under his wing. He taught me how to fight and the way of bushi….” Senpachi hesitated a moment, concerned that what he was about to say might encourage the youth in his attentions. But he would not dishonor Haruki’s memory by hiding their relationship, as if it were something he was ashamed of. “He also taught me how to love.”

The word hung in the air between them, Shinosuke saying nothing, but his expression indicating that he understood. Senpachi cleared his throat and continued. “Haruki also taught me how to face death.”

“What do you mean? Did he die?”

“Hai.”

“On the battlefield?”

“On a hunting trip. There were six of us, all on horseback. Something spooked Haruki’s horse, as we crossed through a field. Before he could get the animal back under control, he fell off. We all thought it was funny, at first, and we laughed.” The samurai smiled faintly at the memory, though there was little joy in it. “Haruki had landed badly, and we soon realized that his back was broken. He couldn’t move, and he felt nothing when I squeezed his hands and legs. Though he could still speak and even joke about us having to strap his sword to his forehead for his next battle, we all knew—he knew—that he would be dead soon. I don’t know how long he might have held on, but Haruki saw no point in dragging out his death. He asked me to kill him.”

Shinosuke drew in his breath involuntarily, and his eyes expressed a small amount of the horror Senpachi had felt at that time. Senpachi was only fifteen. He’d never killed a man. And now the first man he killed was going to be the man he loved. All these years later, the pain the memory brought back to him was still agonizing.

“Our friends led the horses away from us,” Senpachi said, when he trusted himself to speak, “so we could be alone together, in Haruki-kun‘s last moments. Then I drew his wakizashi and leaned down to kiss him. While our lips were still touching, I pierced his heart with his own blade.”

He realized that his hands had clenched themselves into fists so hard that his nails were cutting into his palms, so he forced himself to relax them. Haruki-kun…. He still longed to beg his lover for forgiveness, though he knew Haruki hadn’t blamed him—had, in fact, wanted him to do it. It had been necessary. And it was, after all, merely the first in a long, long line of painful regrets.

Shinosuke spoke quietly. “It must have been terrible.”

For a moment, Senpachi couldn’t answer. Then at last, he said, “It was. I couldn’t eat or sleep for several days, and I wept until…I had no more tears to weep.”

“I could never have done it.”

A gentle breeze shook some cherry blossom petals down upon Shinosoke, and some stuck in his ink-black hair. It was a soft, beautiful image that contrasted sharply with the story of pain and death Senpachi was relating to him. Without thinking, the samurai reached up and plucked some the petals out of Shinosuke’s hair. “I wouldn’t have thought I could, either. Not until that moment. But being a samurai means putting your duty ahead of your own needs. Haruki deserved an honorable death, and it was my duty to give it to him. Had I failed, he would have died, anyway. But his death would have been slow and painful and undignified.”

As if they had a will of their own, Senpachi’s fingers floated along the youth’s hair, barely touching, until they came down to touch skin, gently following the line of Shinosuke’s cheek. The youth closed his eyes, making no attempt to pull away. But as soon as Senpachi realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand back.

His voice was gruff when he spoke. “We should get back to practice.”

A Day in the Life of a Writer

So let’s say you’ve decided to make a go of writing full-time. You might imagine that your work day would consist of sitting at your computer for long stretches of time, busily writing. After all, you’re a writer! Isn’t that what writers do?

Well, I’ve had a busy day doing pretty much all writing-related stuff and it occurred to me that it might be of interest to someone contemplating the life of non-stop excitement and adventure that I’ve embarked upon. Keep in mind that I still work full-time in the tech support industry, so this is all in my “free” time, at the moment. This was how I spent my Saturday. Not that I’m complaining. I love it. The temptation to play computer games is always hovering at the edge of my consciousness, taunting me (and occasionally seducing me), but the writing and editing is in fact fun.

But it’s also a lot of work.

Last night, I finished going over the final galley proof of my YA novel and emailed that off to my editor. That doesn’t count for what I did today, of course, but this morning I remembered a couple things I’d forgotten, so I sent a couple emails to straighten that out. That novel will come out March 1st!
I also received an email from a reviewer who’d been nice enough to host a giveaway of another one of my YA novels. She’d picked a winner and was forwarding the email address to me, so I could send the eBook to that person. I sent the email, of course. And I was charming as all get-out.
Murderous Requiem has gone into the editing phase. Yay! I received the first wave of edits from Dreamspinner and now I have to go through the manuscript and accept or reject the changes… and explain why I rejected them, if I do that. I have a lot of respect for my editors and I think they’ve really improved my writing over time, by pointing out passive sentences and suggesting ways to make them more dynamic, as well as forcing me to review awkward phrasings and strange word choices. But sometimes we disagree. I may prefer the way I wrote the sentence originally, or I might have a reason for using a particular phrasing. One of the big battles in By That Sin Fell the Angels was over capitalization of pronouns referencing God and Jesus. The Chicago Manual of Style says they shouldn’t be capitalized. After all, the King James Bible doesn’t capitalize them. However, I based the church in that book on the Assembly of God churches I attended as a teenager in New Mexico and Texas. They capitalize. A lot. Just listen to an Assembly of God pastor talking about Jesus and you can hear the capitalization. Their website is covered with capital letters. So I fought for that one. But I digress…. Anyway, the edits have to be done by this coming Wednesday.
I was contacted by a fellow author who had read The Dogs of Cyberwar and wanted to let me know that she’d reviewed it, and also wanted to chew me out for the cliff-hanger ending. I assured her that I would get back to Dogs as soon as this current novel I’m writing was done. She’ll have to get in line behind all the other people who want to strangle me for the ending on Dogs. Does this count as work? It was a pleasant email chat with a friend. But still, writing-related. And yay! A review! (Thanks, Angel!)
Speaking of my current novel—or as we sophisticated writer-types like to call it, WIP (Work In Progress)—it’s lagging behind. I’d promised my publisher I’d have it done by the beginning of March. Now I’m certain that isn’t going to happen, so I had to hang my head in shame and ask for an extension, until the end of March. Fortunately, she was gracious.
Then I wrote a scene and realized I was going in the wrong direction. It wasn’t bad, but it meant I had to change the direction I’d wanted to go in for that character, which really didn’t make sense. So I spent some time brainstorming with my husband to see how I might get things back on track. Fortunately, it didn’t involve throwing out what I’d written, but I now have to go back and write some stuff leading up to it and change what’s coming after it.
~~Then I played Morrowind.~~ (Scratch that! It never happened!)
I updated the list I’m keeping of things that need to be done. It includes interviews I’m doing, bloghops, submitting published novels for consideration in various awards, miscellaneous promotional stuff, etc. I currently have about fifteen open items to keep track of.
I did some brainstorming about my next YA novel, a somewhat surreal sci-fi adventure.
I submitted two novels to the Rainbow Awards. (Last year, one of my YA novels got two honorable mentions.)
So how much writing did I actually get done today? It actually wasn’t a banner day for writing. Let’s say about 1,000 words. A good day for me is about 2,000 words. But if I can manage 1,000 a day for the next few weeks, I’ll make my deadline, at least.

So that was my day. I’m sure other writers are much busier than I am. I certainly know writers who have more output, but I’m not too unhappy with the amount of actual writing I do. I have slow days and fast days, but as I mentioned in an earlier post, I managed about 150,000 words of new material last year, not counting editing. If I calculate that out for 52 five-day weeks, then that means I wrote about 600 words a day. I can easily increase that, if I were doing this full-time. We’ll just see how things go.

13 Comments

Filed under Reviews, SciFi, Writing, Young Adult

Tagged as bloghops, jamie fessenden, reviews, writing, writing process

February 12, 2013 · 1:41 pm

Interview with new author F.E. Feeley!

This week my guest is F.E. Feeley, author of the new supernatural romance The Haunting of Timber Manor. After the interview, he’s provided us with some information about the novel and an excerpt, and of course where to get it! Welcome, F.E. Feeley!

Interview:

Is this your first novel?

Yes it is.

What inspired you to write it?

Gosh. Well, I’ve always been writing things here and there. Starting something but never finishing it. One day I sat down at the computer and started to piece a story together and before I knew it, I had written quite a bit. As for inspiration? I’ve always loved a spooky story, ever since I was a kid reading R.L. Stein’s Fear Street novels. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of ghosts and hauntings. So, I combined my two great loves and there you have it.

So who are your favorite authors in the horror genre?

Stephen King hands down is my favorite. John Carpenter is good. Anne Rice is all right but Stephen is the best in my humble opinion.

Did you find it a challenge to mix romance into a horror novel?

Sure. I think that I was able to do it with Timber as a means of lightening up the story. Giving Daniel a safe haven in the arms of Hale. But yes writing romance and horror together can be a little daunting. Remember the movie scream and all the rules about horror flicks, I sort of broke the cardinal rule of having sex and surviving. Oh well, it’s my book lol.

That’s true. Romance/Horror does seem to break that “rule.”

Right

Had you read other novels published by Dreamspinner before submitting your novel to them?

To be honest, no. About three quarters of the way through my book I inquired about m/m publishers just to see if any existed. I didn’t know about the genre. I had known there were erotic publishers out there but that wasn’t what Timber was.

So what’s been your experience working with Dreamspinner, as a new author?

Oh my gosh. It’s all been surreal for sure. Everyone has been so nice even when I inundated them with my noob questions. Really professional, really patient, really cool to talk to and I’ve gotten to meet so many different authors and get their support and words of encouragement….. Overall I can say it’s been an amazing experience and one I hope to relive.

I’m sure you will—many times! Do you have any advice for new authors looking to get published?

I’m such a new guy and I feel like my publication is a bit of a ghost thing that’s happened, I still don’t feel like I can provide anything useful other than never listen to naysayers. If you want to be a writer and that’s all you can think of when you wake up, then write.

That’s interesting. You often hear the advice to plow through, even when things aren’t flowing well. What do you find is the hardest part of the writing process?

The hardest part for me is that the muses want to start gibber jabbing late at night and until I write something down, they won’t let me sleep. Other than that, learning to ignore the manuscript while I have nothing to write. Otherwise all I do is frustrate myself.

So are you working on a new project? Can you tell us anything about it?

Well I’ve started a few and set them aside for now to work on my current novel called Objects in the Rear View Mirror. It’s another ghost story about a couple in Kansas whose house is haunted. But the ghosts have a huge role to play in the married couple’s lives.

And one last question to throw out there: what book are you currently reading?

Actually a biography about Abraham Lincoln called Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin. It’s what the movie with Daniel Day Lewis is based off of in part. It’s amazing I gotta tell ya. You fall in love with how gentle he was. I’ve never had a biography make me cry before.

It’s been good chatting with you!

I hope that people enjoy the book and a thank you to you of course for conducting the interview.

Blurb:

While recovering from the recent loss of his parents, Daniel Donnelly receives a phone call from his estranged aunt, who turns over control of the family fortune and estate, Timber Manor. Though his father seemed guarded about the past, Daniel’s need for family and curiosity compel him to visit.

Located in a secluded area of the Northwest, Timber Manor has grown silent over the years. Her halls sit empty and a thin layer of dust adorns the sheet-covered Ivy and Wilde furniture. When Daniel arrives to begin repairs, strange things happen. Nightmares haunt his dreams. Memories not his own disturb his waking hours. Alive with the tragedies of the past, Timber Manor threatens to tear Daniel apart.

Sheriff Hale Davis grew up working on the manor grounds. Seeing Daniel struggle, he vows protect the young man who captured his heart, and help him solve the mystery behind the haunting and confront the past—not only to save Daniel’s life, but to save his family, whose very souls hang in the balance.

(Click on the image to the left, or go to http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3509 to get the novel!)

Excerpt:

“Sure. I’ll even buy you some cotton candy,” I said. He smiled, and I leaned in for a kiss. His mouth met mine, and it was warm and inviting. He sat up straighter to lean into me, and I wrapped my arms around his body and dragged him closer to me. Our mouths ravaged each other, and the heat between us threatened to consume our bodies. His hands ran up my chest, held my face, and ran through my hair. I reached over, lifted him, and sat him in my lap, and as the passion intensified between us, I leaned into his neck and moaned. My lips hurt from the intensity of our kissing. We both were breathing heavily, and he held my head close to him. I could feel my pulse running through my whole body and felt every nerve on edge. I wanted him so badly, but I was determined to take it slow. To do things right. Dammit, stupid standards.

He sat back from me, and I stared up at his face, so handsome, and those lips, so kissable.

“I gotta get going soon,” I said.

“I know. I know.” He sighed and stood up. I had to adjust myself quickly. He reached for his laptop, turned it off, and unplugged it. “I’ll walk you out.”

I stood up, and as we were walking toward the door, Danny set his laptop down on the desk and, before I knew it, pitched forward and fell hard. He braced himself with his hands, but as he rolled over, he was holding his wrist and scooting back from the desk with a confused look on his face.

I leaned down to help him up, but he wasn’t budging, and his eyes were fixed under the desk, where nothing but a lamp cord was plugged into the wall. The winds outside howled, and the wolves howled with it. The look on his face disturbed me, and I said, “There is nothing there, Danny.” But the evidence on his ankle belied my words. Five distinctive red scratches were present along the foot, as if someone had grabbed it. “I didn’t stumble on anything; something tripped me,” he said. I was going to reiterate that nothing was there, but the scratches on his ankle defied anything I could have said. Finally, I was able to get him to his feet. He dusted himself off, and we headed out of the library, shutting the door behind us.

8 Comments

Filed under gay, Guest Blogger, horror, Interviews, Occult/Paranormal, Romance, Writing

Tagged as blurb, F.E. Feeley, guest blogger, interview, The Haunting of Timber Manor

January 29, 2013 · 5:09 pm

Final Cover Design for Murderous Requiem!

I just received the finalized design of the cover for Murderous Requiem!

This was created by Brooke Albrecht, whom I’ve never worked with before, but the design came out beautiful and I love it!

We don’t have a firm release date for the novel yet, but I’m told it might be some time in April.

EDIT: The cover design was just modified slightly, so I’ve uploaded it again. Originally, the characters in the center spelled out the Tibetan prayer, Om Mani Padme Hum, but that wasn’t really appropriate to a story about ceremonial magicians. So it was replaced with Enochian letters, which is the magical language the characters work with in the novel. The letters spell out the word Requiem.

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Filed under Cover, Drama, gay, horror, Murderous Requiem, Mystery, occult, Occult/Paranormal, Romance, Victorian, Writing

Tagged as Brooke Albrecht, cover, jamie fessenden, Murderous Requiem, mystery, occult

January 13, 2013 · 7:51 pm

Even in gay romance, love does not always have to equal anal sex

WARNING: What follows is a frank discussion about my views on the use of anal sex in the M/M genre. If that sounds icky to you, don’t read it.

This came up when I was writing Billy’s Bones about a man who had repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse. Since he had a history of sexual abuse, it would be ludicrous (and incredibly insensitive) for me to end with him and his lover having anal intercourse. That is in fact something he might never feel comfortable doing, even if they remain a loving couple for the rest of their lives.

Yet this is a standard part of the M/M romance formula. I’ve actually been criticized by readers for not always following this formula “correctly,” and it’s now become a pet peeve of mine.

The formula is basically this: the couple meets and falls in love, often having various kinds of sex along the way—mutual masturbation, handjobs, blowjobs, 69s, etc. And then comes the Big Moment, the moment where they truly share themselves with one another. One man opens himself up to the other, allowing full anal penetration, and in the moment of orgasm, they are joined heart and soul and truly become one!

Yeah. Right.

I’ve apparently violated this formula in two different ways. The first was when I failed to get there fast enough. I constructed a careful escalation of sexual experimentation that progressed through mutual masturbation next to one another (no touching) to masturbating each other t0 masturbating while kissing, etc. I thought it was damned hot, but a reader dismissed it as, “It’s nothing but mutual masturbation!”

The next crime I committed (in the same story, in fact) was when their experience of anal intercourse occurred in front of other people, who offered them money to take it to the next level. The characters agree and then discover that they really like it, forgetting about everybody in the room but each other. This was apparently disgusting, because they would never agree to do something that intimate and emotional in front of other people!

Frankly I was shocked by both responses (from different people). Mutual masturbation is my favorite sexual activity (Stop reading, Mom!) and even though I like anal sex, I’ve never liked it that much. It’s just one of the many ways people can enjoy having sex with each other. Given a choice, I think 69 is definitely the best way to go. There’s a penis right there for me to play with, at the same time that someone’s playing with my penis! It’s awesome!

As far as having sex in front of people…I had a housemate who was paid $500 to have sex with her boyfriend on camera. She didn’t seem terribly traumatized by it. I myself have had sex with a crowd of people watching. (Shy? Not me.) Would I have been willing to try something new in front of that audience? If it didn’t hurt, sure. Why not?

Not all M/M novels are culminate with anal intercourse, of course. But I’ve just read a couple more recently that promote this trope. It didn’t ruin the novels for me, but I definitely find it irksome.

Somebody once suggested that the whole “anal sex is the ultimate form of love” thing is a holdover from straight romance novels, in which “going all the way” — i.e., full vaginal penetration — is reserved for special moments in the novel, such as the final love scene or even held off until after the novel, when our hero and heroine are safely married. That’s not really the case anymore with straight romance, any more than it is with gay romance, but it seems to be embedded in the psyche of many readers.

The truth of the matter is, there’s nothing special about anal sex. Yes, some people — both male and female — enjoy it. Many even prefer it. I’ve heard one gay man describe it as the sort of melding one reads about it M/M novels. But for me? No. It was fun. That’s it. Angels didn’t sing. Some of my previous boyfriends hated it, as do many gay men. They thought it was filthy and disgusting.

Yes, that’s right: a lot of gay men hate having anal intercourse.

Oh, yeah. I said it. We’re not all cookie-cutter robots who like the same things. Go figure.

I do occasionally include anal sex in my novels, but not always. It isn’t always appropriate. Certainly it wouldn’t be appropriate in a novel about a rape survivor and frankly I think I would be offended by a plot in which his lover felt compelled to teach him “how to enjoy” anal sex, as if that was particularly “healing” and there were no alternatives they could engage in. That possibility did cross my mind as I was contemplating how to end the novel and I immediately rejected it.

While I’m on the subject, I also recommend against including anal intercourse in YA novels. Not because of the sex part. I expect anyone writing a YA novel to hold back on explicit detail anyway, of course. But in terms of what two teenagers would try on their first fumbling attempts at sex…? It’s possible, but I would say they probably wouldn’t. It’s kind of scary for young men who have never tried it before. (I did in fact ask my first boyfriend to try it with me, when I was nineteen, because I was more adventuresome than he was. It hurt; we stopped.)

So once again, I’m not necessarily saying everyone should stop using anal sex in M/M novels. But I really think there’s a little too much emphasis on it, as if it represents the ultimate merging of souls for two men. It can be that, just as any sexual act can be for two people who are in love.

But that’s just my point. It doesn’t have to be anal sex. There are other possibilities.

47 Comments

Filed under gay, Romance, Writing

Tagged as m/m, sex, writing

January 9, 2013 · 3:01 pm

Just finished “Billy’s Bones”

I finally finished the contemporary psychological drama I’ve been calling Billy’s Bones (awful, awful title!) and several friends are reading it to tell me if it’s any good. I’m really not sure. I like the first half, but it gets very grim in the second half. Ever read the beginning of Alice Sebold‘s The Lovely Bones? That’s about the level of grim I’m talking about. To a lesser extent it resembles the revelation of Tom’s repressed memories of “Callanwolde” in The Prince of Tides (considerably toned down in the film version). Not exactly what most people expect in a romance novel.

I should have seen it coming, of course. I came up with this plot centered around repressed memories of sexual abuse and murder, and then when I came to the part where the repressed memories begin to surface, I thought, “I could have the character tell the story to his therapist or his lover (who is actually the viewpoint character), but it would be far more dramatic to show it in a flashback!”

Yeah, great idea.

Except that I soon realized that what I was writing was too horrific to describe in any kind of detail. There’s a reason that I tend to use crimes against children to represent evil in my novels: I find them absolutely horrifying. I don’t think I’m alone in this. So there’s a fine line between being boring by not dramatizing it and showing too much by dramatizing it. It wasn’t my intention to write a horror novel.

So I wrote the scene out, but didn’t go into graphic detail. We’ll see what my friends say, when they read it.

The other potential problem is that my viewpoint character (Tom) almost disappeared in the last quarter of the novel, as Kevin works with the police to piece things together. I had to go back and make sure he said something now and then to remind readers that he was still there. I don’t know if that worked. We’ll see.

What all of this demonstrates is that I can’t write in a vacuum — at least, not all of the time. While I’m working on the first draft, I don’t let anyone look at it. I generally have a sense of whether it’s good or not and I like to think I’m a fairly good storyteller. At that stage, I don’t want people injecting their opinions. But as soon as that first draft is done, I lose the confidence I had while writing. Sometimes my ego is too fragile for criticism for a week or so, as my husband has learned, but fairly soon after the first draft is done, I need feedback to tell me if the story came out any good or if it should be scrapped.