I was interviewed by the unicorns over at Boy Meets Boy Reviews for their anniversary shenanigans. Want to read about kinks, porn stars, and sex mixes? Come on down! Plus - there's a little giveaway for a paperback copy of Caged and a mug (or... this slightly NSFW one?)
Read the interview at Boy Meets Boy Reviews.
I want to touch you.
The stubble of your jaw against my palm,
Feel the give of your bottom lip pressed to mine,
Follow the curve of your bones and muscles beneath your flesh.
I want your scent on me as I lick the salt from your skin.
I want to drown my senses in your existence.
I want to learn you.
The way your voice changes when you say my name.
When you beg my name.
When you cry my name.
I want to hear your voice break like a wave against the rocks.
I want to see what fear looks like in your eyes.
Do you know what today means? With the launch of Sacrificed, I finally feel good about calling myself a writer.
I'm a writer.
I really am.
And, to prove I'm not just a one-trick pirate pony, I'm publishing an erotic science fiction novelette, Sarge, sometime next week.
Happy release day indeed... just look at these beautiful reviews!
Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents:
If I could give this book more than 5 stars I would. 5+++ (read more)
Reuniting with the cast from Baal’s Heart feels like coming home to family and friends. Above all, you will be left breathless in its wake. (read more)
If I start talking about the kinky times we could be here for days, so let’s just say they were amazeballs and leave it at that. (read more)
Ann: What I find incredibly brilliant about this series so far is the fluid dynamics with the three main characters.
SheReadsALot: These words from this story are filled with so much heart, passion and love of well fleshed out characters, I can't not rave about them. (read more)
So!
Been busy.
With what, you say? Well...
The first? Sacrificed is coming out in just a few days. I've been dotting i's and crossing t's and making sure the launch will go smooth. Have you preordered your copy? :)
And I um... wrote another book in the interim. To get my mind off the fact that I sent out ARCs of Sacrificed. It's a novelette... The continuation to Sarge. It'll come out later this month.
Today we have Varian Krylov, author of Dangerously Happy and the recently published and highly-acclaimed Bad Things
Howdy Varian and welcome to my blog!
Why don't you describe yourself as a writer in ten words or less.
Intuitive, selfish, indulgent, seeking, probing, hopeful, despairing, provocative, problematic, improving.
Why do you write?
I've always written, because I've always felt the urge to write. Well, I shouldn't exaggerate—I started when I was five or six. There always seems to be a seed of a story sprouting in my head, and once I feel it tickling my brain, writing it down is like scratching an itch.
I also love playing with language. There were a few years where I wrote nothing but poetry, and those notebooks fill up two copy paper boxes in my storage unit.
But I also write my novels because I enjoy exploring my ideas about relationships and sexuality through the characters I dream up. More and more, I realize that in some ways I'm two people, sexually, and there's a side of my sexual psyche that can only be satisfied through fiction. That side of me absolutely thrives on dynamics and practices that I don't really enjoy in my personal life. And even though it's infinitely more laborious, I enjoy writing these kinds of stories more than reading them.
Have you ever hated one of your characters?
Not any of my main characters, but there are a few secondary characters—especially in After—that I'd like to put in an iron maiden.
Any thoughts about the occasional and surprising vitriol when there’s a little F inserted into M/M?
Haha, it's a perplexing phenomenon. When I wrote my first three novels, I was always anxious readers were going to stone me for spicing up a primarily hetero romance with a side serving of manlove, but I never heard a word of complaint. I confess I was startled when I got schooled in the dangers of letting a lady in on the action in a gay romance. It's not so surprising to me that a gay man wouldn't want to read that, but what caught me off guard was how many female readers of m/m are adamant about not wanting any sex scenes to include women. Personally, I'm very drawn to menage stories, and I find a three way dynamic not only exciting, but in many ways it feels like the ideal balance, at least in fiction. And I write a lot of M/M/F menage. But as sexual beings and as readers, we all have things that repel us, emotionally and erotically, and I've come to understand better that for a lot of readers of M/M, the appearance of a vagina destroys the fantasy they're immersed in.
What made you go indie instead of going through a traditional publishing model?
I had a brief brush with a publisher, who approached me years ago, before self-publishing was so accessible, about publishing Abduction. But during the negotiation of the contract, I came to feel that I was being left with too much of the risk, for how much share in the reward I was handing over to the publisher, so ultimately I declined their offer.
Nowadays, it seems to me that if you're willing to do a bit of tedious work, like formatting your manuscript and hiring an editor and someone to do a decent cover design, you're better off self-publishing and keeping all your royalties. Because publishers seem to do very little, considering what a huge percentage of your royalties you're giving up.
Do you have any advice for aspiring writers on how to cope with bad reviews?
Be professional. Event the best writers in the world have critics, and no book is going to be universally liked. Let it sting for a second, then think about it calmly, and see if there's anything in the review that can help you be a better writer.
My first novel, Abduction, is one I still get long and heartfelt notes about; something about that story really struck some people. But a couple reviewers were pretty brutal in criticizing it as being wordy, redundant, and way too long. I was so in love with my story that for years I shrugged off those critiques. But recently I went back and read it, and had to admit they were dead right. So I edited the hell out of it, and I think it's a much better book, now.
Since this is for National M/M month, what do you feel you bring to the genre?
Enthusiasm! Haha.
I'd say a distinguishing characteristic of all my novels is that the central characters confront and overcome their fears through sex. I think I'm a bit notorious for how extensive and explicit the sexual encounters are in my writing, and they're always twined up with the characters coming to terms with something that's holding them back from fulfillment and happiness. My novels are all dark, to different degrees and in different ways; they express my perspective that in life, on both the individual and societal level, fear is omnipresent and corrosive. So I thrive on exploring people struggling through their fear, taking terrible, beautiful risks, and clawing their way to joy.
What are you working on now?
I have a massive three-novel work in progress: these three new novels will be set in the same world—a fictional, present-day region in the chaos of civil war. So, it's a dangerous, complex story world, with high-stakes conflict that will go far beyond the perilous dance of eroticism and romance.
Thank you, Varian!
Next up we have Beth Brock, author of the up and coming novel, King of the Storm.
Hiya Beth - welcome to my blog!
Can you describe yourself as a writer in ten words or less?
I’m a bully who relentlessly picks on gender stereotypes.
You’ve just submitted your first novel to a publisher. How does that feel?
Terrifying. Like I’m the first one to get laid in a horror flick.
What was the impetus behind going with traditional publishing?
Connection and security.
Can you tell us a little about the story?
My novel is a MM Erotic Romantic Fantasy set in a made-up world, but loosely based off of Ancient Greek mythology. I’d love to say that it’s a pure and true romance, but I can’t. It seems to be more about a demigod hero who doesn’t want to be a hero, fighting against the expectations of the mortal society in which he lives in, and the meddling of the gods. There’s definitely drama (these are the Greek gods), and there is the occasional tender moment, but it’s mostly fighting and fucking. *grin*
What do you struggle with the most in your writing?
Making the scenery come alive, so that it serves more of a purpose to the story.
Since someone told me this is National M/M month or something, what do you think you bring to the genre?
I had never read Romance, of any type, before I started my novel. I finished my first draft and then realized that maybe I should read a romance, and maybe see if there were any works like mine out there. Mostly I think I was trying to justify the fact that I had written a dirty story. I was partly successful.
I found some great Romance that I truly respect, and I’ll continue to read MM. But I still haven’t found a story that’s quite like mine. Maybe that’s a good thing. Or not. I don’t know. I do know that I can contribute something to the genre.
You and I have talked about having a little F in our M/M - how do you think that will effect the reception of your work?
I don’t know exactly, but I can tell you how I felt about writing it.
I never felt so much disappointment over my characters’ limitations, as I did during those moments between my protagonist and the woman in his life. I wanted to change both of them, make them more appealing somehow, but I couldn’t. They were who they were, the ugliness and the beauty. It was an agonizing struggle for me to accept that.
And finally: what do your characters mean to you?
My characters are people who are reality challenged - they exist only in my imagination. But I want others to see them too. I want them to be “real”.
Thank you, Beth - and good luck with the novel!
Thank you for the interview. This was fun.
Beth Brock
bethbrockbooks@gmail.com
bethbrockbooks.com
Google+
Today's interview is with Joseph Lance Tonlet, up and coming author of Grif’s Toy (November, 2014)
Hi Bey. Hi everyone.
Let me start of by saying what a privilege it is to be here. I’m throughly humbled; not only from the fledgling writer perspective, but also being interviewed by someone whose work and creativity I so fervently admire. Yeah, Bey, I consider your invitation a true honor…thanks!
*Grin* My pleasure, Joseph, and thank you!
Why don't you describe yourself as a writer in ten words or less.
Okay, right out of the gate, I’m gonna be a rebel. I hope you’ll indulge me *naughty smile*. Stephen King is quoted as saying, “The road to hell is paved with adjectives.” He, along with many other successful writers/editors/etc. have voiced an extreme dislike of adjectives. I, on the other hand, adore them. So, rather than describing myself in ten words, I’m going to instead share the ten adjectives which best describe me as a writer.
01. Indefatigable
02. Passionate
03. Empathetic
04. Inexpert
05. Sensitive
06. Enthusiastic
07. Appreciative
08. Provocative
09. Erotic
10. Twisted
What prompted you to start writing?
As with many M/M writers, I’m an M/M reader first. I started out in my early teens reading Gordon Merrick, and continue to enjoy the genre with works by contemporary writers such as yourself, Kol Anderson, Jack L. Pyke, Rhys Ford, and countless others.
As for how I started writing. A friend and I were doing a buddy read of Brook McKinley's Shades of Gray. One night we sat at dinner, talking about the book, and he asked, “Do you ever think about writing a novel of your own?” The truth was, I’d been pondering doing just that—for years. I love writing, I love reading, and writing a book had been a dream of mine since high school. With my friend’s unwavering encouragement, I finally put pen to paper and wrote Grif’s Toy.
What character was/is the hardest for you to write and why?
Without a doubt, this would be Alex. Alex is one of the main characters of Brothers; my current work in progress. Alex is systematically, and repeatedly abused—from early childhood through young adulthood—by his sadistic, elder brother, Miah. (Note: Brothers, with its heavy non-con storyline, will cater to a niche M/M readership.) Telling Alex and Miah’s complex, and oftentimes disturbing, story has kept me up more than a few nights. And that, in and of itself, has been difficult; not being able to sleep simply because the story isn’t fully written yet.
Do you write every day? When do you find is the best time to write?
When I’m writing, I do write everyday. However, there are countless aspects of being ‘an author’ that, unfortunately, have very little to do with the actual ‘fun’ part of writing. When I am writing, I tend to be most inspired in the early morning (before 6AM) [Bey: way too early] or in the late evening (after 9PM). The quietness which accompanies these times of day strokes my inner creativity in a unique way.
Since this is for National M/M Month, what do you think you bring to the genre in particular?
Wow, that’s a tough one. Well, I believe every writer brings their own distinctive style to the genre. But, more importantly, writing is an incredibly personal endeavor—perhaps one of the most personal of all art forms—and the end result can be astonishingly intimate. My first and second books, to a large extent, detail my personal journey; they contain my innermost fears, hopes, setbacks, and triumphs. Will other authors have similar life experiences? Sure. Without question. Will anyone else tell the same story—in the same way? I don’t think that’s even remotely possible. All of us, every writer, tells his or her stories in their own beautiful and unique way. That, more than anything, is why I return to the genre over and over again; I enjoy reading those one-of-a-kind narratives which only that single author is able to tell.
How much of yourself do you put into your work?
Grif’s Toy (due out later this year) and the followup, Wes’ Denial (slated for summer of next year) are both incredibly personal. Thus, there is a lot of ‘me’ in those books. However, that said, they are works of fiction and not strictly autobiographical—not by any means. Not to mention, I write erotica and my personal life doesn’t compare to the escapades of Grif and Wes.
Everyone gets bad reviews… how do you think you’ll react?
Oh, this is the easiest one so far; I’ll cry! Next question?
We’ve talked about how a little whiskey gets the creative juices flowing. What else does it for you?
Ahh, if that’s an offer, I’ll take a couple of fingers of scotch—on the rocks, please! And, Bey, since you seem to know everyone, I’m wondering if there’s any chance of procuring Logan McCree as tonight’s waiter? Yep, good company, scotch, and tattoos—the perfect evening! Seriously though, I find a bit of scotch does do tremendous things when writing particular scenes *wink, wink*. I feel a bit freer and looser, the characters seem to talk (or not, as the case may be) more, and my fingers almost move across the keyboard of their own volition. I recently read an interesting article about great authors who were also alcoholics. While my writing (and alcohol consumption) are light years from those listed, I do appreciate the liberation a cocktail offers when it comes to getting the ‘creative juices flowing.’ Aside from the occasional grain based spirit, what entices me to write most is the calmness of utter quiet—and muses of course. The afore mentioned Logan McCree, Colby Keller, and many others. Thank you men, for your selfless devotion and your steadfast dedication to all of us who find our muses in you *grin*
Again, sincere thanks for having me, Bey…and I can’t wait to read Sacrificed: Heart Beyond the Spires.
JLT =)
Thanks for stopping by, Joseph!
I had the pleasure of running into Tom, first mate on the pirate ship Baal’s Heart last time I was down south. When I asked him if he wanted to answer a few questions, he smiled this incredibly cheeky grin and winked, replying that if there was a beer in it for him, he’d be “bloody game” to talk with me. Here’s what came of it.
Pammy’s Tavernhouse, somewhere in the southern isles, late summer
Tom walks up to the bar, slaps down a few bits of silver, and bellows for two mugs of the “darkest beer ye got”. I protest and say that I was the one who was going to buy, but he just gives me this quick shrug and says the next round is on me. I have a funny feeling that I’ll be the one buying all the next rounds, but I accept the beer he hands me and follow him to the open patio at the back of the tavern. The view from where we’re sitting is beautiful: clear blue water, whispering, swaying palm trees, and sand that’s so white it looks like snow. I glance at Tom and see that he’s already downed about half his beer and is peering curiously at a two-masted ship that just left port.
Tom’s a big guy, but not as big as you’d think. For one, he’s not as tall as I was expecting, but what he lacks in height he makes up for in muscle; there doesn’t seem to be a lick of fat on him, and I’m sort of mesmerized for a moment just watching the way his arm bulges as he lifts the mug to his lips. He’s tanned to the colour of dark honey, and his dirty-blond hair is short and sticking up in places; there are strange tattoos that swirl and meander down his left side, and I can see more peeping above the waistband of his faded green shorts. All I can think for a moment is just how unbelievably sexy he is.
The way he’s lounging against the wood suggests a man without a care in the world—totally at ease in his environment. But, when he swivels to look at me, I get the unmistakable impression that Tom’s fully aware that he’s got an effect on me, and he’d been purposefully giving me time to look him over.
I pick up my mug, take a long swallow, and try to shake off the self-consciousness caused by the amused look in his bright, blue-green eyes.
Yes, this is a man who knows exactly how attractive he is.
After a few minutes of awkward chit-chat about tattoos (I have a few too) and another trip to the bar for more beer, I finally get around to the questions I wanted to ask.
So, Tom, there are rumours that you found a way through the Devil’s Isles and that you went beyond.
Err. Aye, mate.
(Tom frowns at me. Suddenly he’s no longer the affable, cheeky ruffian who’s going to drink me out of pocket, and I feel a little nervous. Great start to my interview)
Bad question? We can talk about something else.
(Here Tom lets out a small sigh and waves at the air before taking another swallow of beer)
Naw, lovey. It’s just that it weighs a little heavy on the mind, savvy? Weren’t meant to be crossed is what I’m thinkin’… the shite that happened. (Tom shakes his head) I don’t like thinkin’ about it. Actually. Yeah. Ask somethin’ else, mate.
(I’m a little disappointed. I wanted to ask him about what they found on the other side but I’m not going to push my luck)
Ok. No problem. How’s this one for nice and simple? You’re well known for kicking ass. What was your most memorable fight?
(Tom’s face lights up and I have to laugh. The tension’s gone again. He takes another gulp of beer and pulls the skinny cigar out from behind his ear. I wait a good five minutes while he lights it and rubs his jaw as he looks out over the water. The smoke from the cheroot is pungent—there’s more than just tobacco in it, that’s for sure. Just when I think he’s forgotten my question entirely, he turns to me with a toothy smile)
It was when I was a wee nipper. A lad o’ nine or so. I worked in the mines and, since I was a might bit skinnier back then, they had me crawlin’ into these bloody cracks deep in the fuckin’ rock. Well, one of them days, I was in a squeeze—as they call ‘em, see— and I can’t see the bloody end of my nose. I’m almost stranglin’ with rock dust, and the walls are pressin’ in on me like they wanna crush me… and I’m thinkin' fuck this shit! So I pull meself out o’ there, wrigglin’ and scrapin’ my skin to get loose, and the big prick who was responsible for puttin’ me in the black hells to begin with gives me this look and says some shit like “Git back in there, boy!” (Tom chuckles) Well… I bloody lost it. ‘Twas the first time I’d ever really rebelled, other than…
(Tom’s forehead creases then and I get a glimpse of something that looks like pain on his expressive face, but he shakes it off and moves on with his story).
…so, I clocked the fucker in the jaw with my little fist, but surprise of bloody surprises, I hit him square and he falls back all shocked like. Problem is, this arse had these twin sons who were as big, ugly, and mean as their da, and they were comin’ up the tunnel just as I hit their old man. Well, they pounced on me like a pair o’ hellcats. I didn’t know how to punch yet, but I knew that if I kept swingin’, I’d be sure to hit somethin’, aye? Because I was little, I wasn't no match. I didn’t think for a second that I’d win, ye know? But I had to do it. Well eventually, I got my hand around this big ol' rock as they were punchin’ and kickin’ me over n’ over. I put all of it into that last hit and got one of ‘em boys straight in the side o’ the head. Went down like a tree.
That was your most memorable fight?
Aye, lovey. Was the first time I’d ever downed a mate. The fucker lost an eye because of me.
(Tom chuckles and takes a drag off his cigar)
Did you get away? What happened?
Nah. They beat me bloody unconscious. I was eatin’ mush for a month on account o’ the broken jaw.
(I sit silent for a second, aghast that he’s talking so nonchalantly about being so severely beaten. He sees my expression and gives me another of his little one-shouldered shrugs. He smiles)
What’s done is done, aye?
(I nod and drink down the rest of my beer. I can’t shake the image of nine-year-old Tom in the mines. I’m surprised when he reaches for my mug and goes off to get another round. I can’t take my eyes off the scars on his back. The interview’s definitely not going the way I expected. He comes back, gives me another one of his cheeky grins and manages to graze my fingers as he hands me back the mug. Suddenly I’m off-balanced again)
Um. Tell me about being a pirate?
Bloody fun. Lot’s o’ work, but bloody fun.
That’s all you’re going to tell me?
Well, I can’t speak for bein’ a regular pirate, ye see? Ain’t the same on board the Heart. We got our own way of doin’ things. It’s prey for pay, aye, but we ain’t got the same sort o’ code o’ conduct as them other mates.
Is the plunder good?
Matey, ye wouldn’t believe what’s restin’ in the hold of the ol’ tub as we speak.
(Tom gives me a broad smile, but he’s frustratingly short on details)
Ok, well how about telling me about some places you’ve been?
Alrighty.
(Tom leans his forearms against the wide railing and rubs his scarred hands together. Deep wrinkles appear in his brow as he thinks)
I been everywhere from north t’ south. East... not so much. (I notice he purposefully doesn’t mention west across the black mountain range) Dunno, maybe some day. For now there’s plenty to be had in the midlands and around here.
Somewhere interestin' I been? Hmm, well, two years ago, we were on the run—navy after us like ticks after a dog—and we find ourselves in a lick o’ trouble when the wind up and changes. We turn around and go through the passage just south o’ here. Ye know where those two little islands are?
(He points off to one side, but I’m really not that knowledgeable about the native geography. I’m just going to have to take his word for it)
Well instead of findin’ a bare stretch o’ sea beyond, there was this small spit o’ land. All shrouded n’ misty and shite. We manage to find a little dip in the shore where the Heart wouldn’t stick out so bad, and we dropped anchor… and waited. Hours went by and there was no sign of the scurvy bastards chasin’ us, so the captain says why dont’cha go ashore and see if ye can find us some grub to eat while we’re waitin’. I says sure, and picked three o’ my best men and rowed us out. Well… couldn’t believe my bloody eyes when we got to the shore and saw it was made o’ this hard, green rock. Slippery as all hells. We managed to crawl out and tie the dinghy up, but as far as the fuckin’ eye could see, there wasn’t nothin’ but this dark-green rock. No trees, no grass. Nothin’. So, me and the boys start walkin’. We walked and walked an’ bloody walked, but still nothin’.
(Tom takes a deep, slow swallow of beer and smiles at me. He’s got at least a half-week’s stubble on his face, and it shines golden in the bright sun)
So, it was just a rock island?
That’s what we thought! Ain’t never seen rock like it. Every few paces there were lines in it, straight n’ true. Was the weirdest fuckin’ thing. So I pull my knife out and tap it against the stone… sounded hollow so I tried pushin’ the point in and bloody hells, it sunk in a bit. So I jammed it harder n’ harder, ye know, to try to cut a piece out to bring back to Da…
(I’d heard rumours of Tom calling the captain “Da”. Were they actually father and son? And if so… what of the other things I’d heard?)
… and suddenly, the ground gives a shake and a shimmy and we’re fallin’ all over ourselves trying to stay on our feet. Then, out of the mists comes this sound…
(Tom makes a noise halfway between a growl and a sigh)
Two o’ the lads shit themselves in fear, and the third goes as white as a bloody ghost! So we’re crawlin’ on our hands and knees, trying to make our way to the shore. And I see it! Risin’ out of the mists is this thing… higher and higher it goes 'til it’s as tall as a godsdamned mountain. And then it turned… and it bloody blinked at me!
We ran, oh fuck did we run… like the bloody wind itself. Back to the bloody ship, mate. We had to tell the captain!
(I realise I’m holding my mug too tight when the old break in my hand starts to throb. I force myself to relax)
But… what was it? What did you see?
Ducky, it wasn’t a bloody island at all! We’d climbed up onto the fuckin’ back of a gigantic bloody tortoise!
(At this point I realise that Tom is taking the piss out of me, and I start to laugh)
I’m calling bullshit.
Naw, lovey. Biggest fuckin’ tortoise in the godsdamned world. Swear to the fuckin’ gods. Swear on me ma’s bones, gods rest her bloody soul.
(But Tom is laughing to himself now, his eyes narrowed in mischief. I shake my head at him and finish my beer, then I grab his mug and make another trip to the bar. When I get back, he accepts the beer with a grin and nods his head in thanks)
So… what’s it like being the first mate to Captain Baltsaros?
(Right away I can see that this is the wrong question to ask and my heart sinks. Just a minute ago we were laughing like old friends, but now Tom’s eyes have gone flat like he’s been through hell, and he looks away from me. When a few minutes go by, I realise he’s not going to answer me. Desperate to lighten the mood I ask a dumb question.)
Uh. What about… Um. I’ve heard that you’re very popular with the brothel ladies?
(I want to add “and men” but I’m not sure if I really believe the rumours. Seems too good to be true. And I’ll be damned if I bring it up—there’s this air of poised violence that lurks just beneath his bluff charm. I have no way of knowing how he’d take the question. However, when he turns to me again, the mischievous glint is back and that’s enough to make me take a quick sip of beer just to have something to do with my hands.)
Ye heard that, aye lovey? Who you been talkin’ to about me puttin’ a crack in Jenny’s cup?
(Tom grins wide and leans towards me, and all I can think about is how the hell I’m going to keep going with this interview. I've had a lot to drink and turning the conversation to sex was a bad idea. I break eye contact and concentrate on the drip of sweat that’s making its way down his chest and watch it get caught in his dark-blond chest hair)
I’ve just… heard things. Nothing specifically. I don’t know why I brought it up.
Ye don’t, aye? Was it because ye wanted to know whether I fancy someone wearin’ trousers instead? Hm? Do ye have a personal interest in my answer?
(Tom can obviously tell that I’m embarrassingly rattled by him, and he lets out this bark of laughter and sits back, just smiling at me. Right then, there's a sharp double-whistle and Tom’s head swivels quickly.)
That’s the Heart. I gotta skedaddle, lovey. Thanks for the beer.
The words were spoken brusquely, but they were accompanied with a wink. Before I had a chance to respond or ask anything else, Tom clapped a warm hand on my shoulder and stood. With a spring in his step, he whistled a jaunty tune as he made his way through the bar and back to his ship.
I sat there for at least a quarter hour, just nursing my beer, waiting for my pulse to slow.
Want to meet Tom and the rest of the crew? Join them in Caged and Sacrificed, the sequel due out October 15th, 2014.
This month I'm doing something a little different! Let's do some interviews, shall we?
First off is Jamie Lake, author of The Trainer, Boyfriend for Rent, and the new Bad Boy series
Welcome!
As a writer of M/M novels, what challenges do you face? Though it is growing, the popularity of M/M novels is still in its infancy. How does that affect marketing, expectations, frustrations?
I think my greatest challenge right now is writing the best book I can write. M/M readers are real connoisseurs of the genre. They can be very picky about what they expect and if you don't don't write up to their standards, they're very vocal about it. I'd love to see a more concentrated effort of the M/M community, coming out of the closet and introducing the books to people who are first time readers. But I love writing gay romance books. The fans have been my life-savers and have been incredibly supportive and kind and generous.
Can you talk a little about your novels? Which are your favourites, and do your fans tend to like those more?
Well, of course each of my novels is like my baby but right now, I just finished the 5th book in the BAD BOY: Naughty at Night series. It's about a kindergarten teacher who needs money so bad that he decides to become an erotic massage at night. He's juggling this double life, while dating a cop and is under the control of a mafia-esque type of character. Readers really seem to like the concept.
What do you prefer writing: standalone or series?
Definitely series because you get to explore every asset of the characters lives and the readers always ask for more.
What sort of criticism have you faced? Have you specifically faced criticism because of your portrayal of gay relationships?
Well, I don't get that kind of criticism from M/M readers. I'm a guy writing in a genre that is predominately female writers, which is ironic but it gives me some advantages because I know the intricacies of a real life M/M relationship. At the same time, most of my readers are female so sometimes female authors have an advantage over me.
Do you have any advice for aspiring authors of the M/M genre?
I think read as many M/M books as possible. Know that no matter how great of a story you tell, not everyone is going to like your books and that's okay. There's something for everyone in this genre and there are more than enough readers to to support everyone. Most M/M authors are very supportive of each other so if this is the genre you're passionate about, you'll be very welcome.
Thank you for stopping by Jamie!
I was sixteen. You were nineteen and the good friend of a friend.
We spent the night fooling around. First at the party. Then at my house.
You threw the condom onto the roof of the shed outside my window. I cursed, you laughed.
Then at your house, we fucked in your basement. I remember it was pretty great.
The next morning, we sat on either sides of the couch watching The Transfomers: The Movie while we ate overly-sweet cereal.
"Come here," you said, putting your bowl down. I was curious and hopeful. I found you attractive.
You had me lie on the couch next to you, and you took up a pillow and put it over my face. Pressed down. Hard.
I struggled.
You lifted the pillow and looked at me, your dark eyes wide and innocent.
"It's ok," you said. "Don't fight it."
The pillow came down again. I couldn't breathe.
I pushed it away when I got my hands under it.
"Don't you understand?" you said with a gentle smile. "Just... trust me. Don't fight it. Come on..."
This time the pillow pressed harder against my face, and I had to buck with all my strength to be free.
I stood panting in the middle of the living room as you took up your bowl of cereal and turned your attention back to the TV.
I left. Ran down the street. Feet striking the pavement, lungs burning.
...
...
...
It was only when I finally slowed, finally leaned down, hands to knees, gulping in air, that I realized just how excited I felt.
I wasn't afraid.
Not of you.
I was afraid of the desire that coursed through me at the thought of relinquishing control.
Were you trying to kill me?
What if I had stayed and submitted?
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Wondering which retailer pays me the most?
#1 is Payhip. Not a retailer, but an online shop that I've set up myself. This is where I make the most return on my books.
Then after that it gets a little complicated, but these are the three best choices:
At Eden Books*, I make 70% royalties for all titles.
At Smashwords, I make 60% royalties for all titles.
At Amazon, for books OVER $2.99 (USD) I make 70% royalties and for books UNDER $2.99 I make 35%
So... if the book is under $2.99, buy from Eden Books or Smashwords.
If the books is over $2.99, buy from Eden Books or Amazon.
But best of all, buy from my Payhip store :)
Questions? Contact Me!
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