November132012

Every conversation I’ve ever had about M/M romance…

“So, who is your audience?”

“Mostly women. A few men. Ages 25-“

“Wait, women?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Not men?”

“No. Mostly women.”

**blank stare**

“Women like romance novels. And they like men.”

“But GAY men?”

“You know how straight guys like to watch 2 girls making out?”

“So, it’s porn.”

“No. It’s ROMANCE. But it operates under the same premise.”

“Wait…what premise?”

“That straight women like men. They find men sexy and attractive. The same way straight men find women attractive.”

“But…GAY men?”

**I blink slowly.** ”Yes. Gay men. Straight men. We find MEN attractive.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Women read M/M romance. Just take my word for it.”

“But…not men?”

“DUDE. How many guys do you know who read romance novels? Men read sci fi, fantasy and mysteries. THEY DO NOT GENERALLY READ ROMANCE!!”

“Not even gay men?”

>.<

>.<

“I’m leaving now.”

May72012

Process occurs when you find magic,

Only to realize it only worked under certain circumstances,

Or maybe just for those few books.

It’s the formula you think you’ll never master,

Until a story grabs you by the nostrils and drags you,

To the finish.

You think you’ll never be able to do it again,

Because that wasn’t Process, was it?

That was perfection.

Lightening never strikes twice.

So you slog through your next book,

Positioning the lightening rods,

Miserable because this time it feels like Work.

And how can Process ever replace Inspiration?

My readers will be able to tell…

You scan through those words you scribbled,

Onto a sheet of paper,

Or poked into a keyboard,

And somewhere, somehow, you see the story hiding.

It’s there! In chapter seven! When the hero catches his breath!

The lightning rod lays wasted.

There’s only you,

Frantically dashing out words,

While the story runs away with itself.

You wish you could bottle it, 

Catch air in your fingers.

Because no amount of planning,

Or plotting,

Or magic tricks,

Can capture your Process.

Not until it captures you.

April282012
Awww, it&#8217;s camp-out kissin&#8217;!

Awww, it’s camp-out kissin’!

(Source: theright-track, via equalityabovehate)

April182012

DIVA and the FRAT BOY: Exclusive Excerpt

Okay, people—you asked for it, and here it is… The very first excerpt from Holsum 2: Diva and the Frat Boy. More to come, but I wanted to give you a taste from the very first scene.

* * * * *

“It’s just cruel.” Nathaniel leaned to shout in his friend Peter’s ear. The music thrummed, and the floor shook from the bass. The place smelled like men and alcohol and sex. And although it was funny to watch the graduating Eta Xi brothers line up in cocktail dresses and drunkenly stumble around, on Greg drag was so not the look.

“They should make these guys practice beforehand. One of them is gonna fall and hurt someone.”

Peter grinned, drink in hand. “Aw, they’re adorable!” Peter pointed up at the stage. “And Greg looks fucking hot.”

Nathaniel gave him a skeptical look. He didn’t really get what Peter saw in Greg. Hell, what everyone saw in the boy. Greg Sanders was the president of the gay frat Eta Xi, and Nathaniel had been shaking his tail at the guy since he had decided to pledge. But in general, Greg wasn’t his type. Or more to the point, Nathaniel knew he wasn’t Greg’s type.

“C’mon, look at those legs!”

“Meh.” Nathaniel shrugged. Greg’s legs were as white as the rest of him and were covered in the same jet-black hair that was on his head. Sure, they were muscular. After all, the guy played college basketball, but they weren’t anything special.

“Uh, huh?” Peter raised his eyebrows. He smirked. “Denial, much?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and put his hand on his hip. “I didn’t say he was ugly or anything.” Then he noticed that Greg had finished maneuvering down the stage’s three steps and was tottering toward them. Greg stumbled in the flashing party lights.

“Fuck, honey.” Nathaniel braced himself against Peter. “He really is gonna fall on top of us. You might want to give him some space.”

“Hey, kids.” Greg plucked off one of his shoes then took several steps with only one side barefoot before arriving at Nathaniel and Peter. Right on cue, Greg wrapped an arm around Nathaniel’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “Can’t believe I’m not gonna be seeing you after next weekend.”

Greg held on for a long time, long enough for Nathaniel to get a good whiff of his aftershave and the scent of his skin underneath. He smelled like wood and leather. Like a country club, horse-stable Abercrombie Fitch ad. Not really Nathaniel’s style. Straight-acting types generally kept their distance from Nathaniel. Either that or they fucked him and then treated him like shit afterward.

“Give me those.” Nathaniel snatched the shoe out of Greg’s hand and kicked off his loafers. Then he bent to put the pump on his own foot. When Greg looked at him with gob-smacked confusion, Nathaniel pointed impatiently to Greg’s other shoe. “C’mon, Dorothy. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Don’t you think they’ll be too big?” Greg looked uncertainly at Nathaniel’s feet.

Nathaniel smiled, batting his eyes. “Oh, honey, are you trying to tell me something about the size of your…feet?”

 * * * * *

4PM

Why fuchsia?

In case you were wondering what color this blog is, it’s fuchsia. Why? Well, as an homage to my favorite movie right now, KICK OFF. It’s the movie that inspired my heroes from Holsum College 3: Townie and the Twink. (Nick and Gabe)

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