R.J. Jones's Blog, page 3
January 29, 2017
I’m opinionated, you just didn’t know it.
I need to apologise first and foremost. I have not blogged in ages, and I have no excuse. I’m a lazy blogger. There, I admitted it.
On to the topic.
I’ve sat on my hands to stop from typing something on various topics so many times my fingers are numb. I’ve stopped myself because it is sometimes seen as unprofessional and enough authors have been told to sit down and shut up. We are not supposed to have opinions. We are only to talk about books, book boyfriends, and anything writing/reading related. Apparently.
I keep my mouth shut on most subjects. Like how a debut indie author can top the best-selling lists with no promo and next to no social media. This is not something I’ve been able to achieve, even when I promo my butt off. If I say something I’ll look like a jealous banshee, which I totally am. Maybe they just know how to work the system better than I do. You know, with all their experience and everything. (See! Jealousy) It’s irritating at best.
I try to stay out of any controversies. I may comment every now and then on something contentious but it’s usually when I see an injustice or something dubious. Maybe my professional front is slipping a little. I see authors told to sit down and shut up, not to voice their opinion because they’ll lose readership, and I’ve seen this happen on social media, usually with extreme/abusive right-wingers, but I’ve also seen it happen over small matters such as a difference of opinion.
*Loud sigh* I digress, that is not what this post is about.
This post is about politics. *Gasp* The horror!
I know. I will not be a silent bystander while the world I live in goes to hell. I am an author and I have an opinion. There are lots of authors out there who won’t say anything publicly for various reasons, but are supportive of the #resistance we see happening all over the world at the moment. Let’s face it. There’s so many people filling up our feed with political news and outrage, it’s nice to see a kitty or puppy, or five. Support doesn’t need to be so openly visible, and politics, like religion, is a sticky topic at the best of times. I’ve tried not to rock the boat myself, but well… this particular boat gets me hot under the collar, and if I lose a reader or two that doesn’t agree with me, well… so be it.
Some authors have been told to “stay in your lane,” or to butt out of American politics because “you’re not American. You don’t have a dog in this race.”
I’m a citizen of the world, and this is my lane. My dog may not be as big as an American, but it’s yapping its fool head off right alongside.
From what I have seen online (we don’t get a lot of American news on TV here, thankfully, and yes, I stay away from the fake news sites) Trump is out to destroy the world and make it his own. His decisions in the first week have been reprehensible and morally corrupt at best, not to mention downright scary.
But the #trumpresistance I see happening at the moment gives me the warm fuzzies at the same time as firing me up, making me want to make a banner and start a Perth branch of the movement.
This bit below particularly gives me hope that they’re are more resisters out there than Trump supporters. (BTW, It still baffles me how he got in, but that’s a topic for someone else who knows more than I do. I’m still in shock and shaking my head.)
There is only so much a little Aussie can do. But by God, if I lived in the US, you bet your cute arses I’d be marching and screaming my head off. (just like that banshee above)
When you march, protest, resist, or revolt, please know that this little Australian chick, from the most isolated capital city in the world, is resisting right alongside you. I’m here with you.
I could go on, but there are so many people out there who say it far more eloquently than I. So I’ll leave you with this:
Go forth and resist! Resist today. Resist tomorrow, and resist the day after that. Make sure your voices are heard. Don’t do it just for your country, do it for the collective world population who sees what is happening and is sickened by it. History cannot be allowed to repeat itself.
Resistance is not futile.
RJ out.
❤
December 8, 2016
Rainbow Awards: Honorable Mention, Finalist, and Runner Up for INDIGO ROAD!!!
Well this came as a surprise!
I’m proud to say that Indigo Road was a runner up in the annual Rainbow Awards!
Two best friends take a year off to find themselves… and end up finding each other.
Joshua Simpson has just finished four years at Purdue University, but that’s not why he’s buzzing with excitement. Once they’ve said goodbye to their families, Josh and his best friend Alex are taking off to discover America in an old but reliable VW van, planning on not seeing snow for an entire year.
Josh has always considered himself straight—except for that one time in college—so when he and Alex are living in such close proximity on the road, he’s unsure what these new feelings mean. Is it because they’re spending 24/7 together, or is it something deeper? And does it really matter since Josh has only ever seen Alex with women?
While in Oregon, Josh meets Johnno, a sexy but confusing Aussie surfer. While having an impromptu surfing lesson, Johnno helps Josh realize who he is and what he wants—but Alex’s reaction leaves Josh confused.
From a Montana ranch to the bright lights and dangerous streets of Los Angeles, to a dark and lonely deserted highway in Alabama, join Josh and Alex as they drive around the US, discovering not only who they are, but who they can be together.
Want to see why Indigo Road was a finalist? It’s only .99c!
Amazon All Romance
November 29, 2016
I’m a NANO Winner!
I have been the slackest author in the history of ever when it comes to updating my blog. I don’t expect this to change. Sorry.
Just wanted to give you a quick update.
I have successfully complete Nanowrimo 2016! Yay!! I’m now going to sleep for a week because that shit’s exhausting.
What does this mean, I hear you ask?
I used Nano as motivation to get two stories completed. The first one I worked on was As the Sun Sets, the third novel of my Love for All Seasons series. This is Scott’s story who appeared in As the Leaves Fall. You may remember him as Noah’s cheating ex. (I think I have a thing for redeeming bad boys) Anyway, I didn’t think I could do it because no one likes a cheater, but I urge you to give Scott a go. He’s not the person you think he is. I hope to have this ready for release in Feb/Mar 2017.
The second one I wanted to finish is called Solid Rock. This is a standalone about James, a british guy whose estranged father dies and leaves instructions for his ashes to be scattered at Uluru. The dead centre of Australia. There he meets a hunky, laidback, Aussie tour guide. They both think a distraction is in order for a night or two. Neither believe it’s anything more than a holiday hookup, but little do they know just how much they have in common. But James is a tourist and can’t stay legally stay in Australia. Plus, it’s just an extended fling, no emotions involved, right? Right?? You’ll have to wait till May next year to find out what happens with these two, but I promise it’s worth it.
Till then, I’ll keep plodding along. Stay tuned.
❤
RJ
October 16, 2016
A short note on the Out of the Blue series…
First off I’d like to thank everyone who has read Blueprint and reached out to me to let me know that Jet’s story lived up to their expectations. I can’t tell you how much of a huge relief it is to know I did Jet’s story justice. I can’t thank you enough. I am truly humbled.❤
Secondly and sadly, to answer all of you who have either asked me on Facebook or sent me an email or PM – Yes, Blueprint marks the end of the series. *cue tears* Cam and Jake’s story, Out of the Blue was supposed to be a standalone. But then Kris needed a story, and Brandon and Mason needed theirs, and I knew no matter what happened, I had to give Jet his happy. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t seen Jet grow and love and be loved in return with someone worthy of him.
In saying that, there is a chance that Andy (Jet’s fellow bartender) and Ian (the ferry captain) may get their story, but if that happens it will be a spin-off and a standalone and the other characters won’t appear.
These four couples have all fought hard for their HEA and if I write another within the series, I fear one of the couples won’t remain together. I would hate for that to happen and I’m sure all you would as well. These boys deserve better than that and they should be left in peace to live happily and content with their husbands (or soon to be husbands).
Thank you!
RJ
❤
October 14, 2016
RELEASE DAY! Blueprint (Out of the Blue, #4) Psst… There’s a giveaway too!
I am so pleased to be able to say ‘Happy Release Day’ to Jet and Ethan! I’ve waited so long for them to get their happy ever after. Yes I know I’m the author, but as soon as Jet hit the page in Black & Bluhe, I knew his story would be heart-wrenching and warming all at the same time. *le sigh*
See below for the blurb and links. I hope you guys enjoy reading Blueprint as much as I did writing it. *smooches everyone*
If only building the foundation for a lasting relationship was as easy as drafting the blueprint.
Jet Black doesn’t date. Even if he wanted a man beyond sex, his ever-watchful identical twin scares potential suitors away. Jet lives with his brother, but since Gray fell in love with Kris, Jet feels like a third wheel. Despite their bond, Jet knows he needs to move out and experience life for himself, whether Gray likes it or not.
After his father dies in a boating accident, Ethan Nichols is devastated. As the last survivor of his family, he realizes the need to put down roots. He leaves Australia and returns home to San Francisco and his old architectural firm. But there’s more to building a new life than simply moving house.
Jet and Ethan’s first encounter is brash and anonymous, but when Ethan moves across the hall, their lives become irrevocably linked. Jet is quirky and fun loving, while Ethan is rock steady and dependable. There’s no denying the passionate spark between them.
But Ethan is looking for a more solid foundation than Jet is ready to offer. Until Jet learns to spread his wings and trust Ethan with his darkest secrets, building a life together will be impossible.
**This can be read as a standalone, however it is best enjoyed reading the series in order as side characters play a major role.**
If you want to read the entire first chapter, go here.
Goodreads Amazon All Romance Smashwords iBooks
Click here for the chance to win a $25 Amazon voucher plus an e-copy of Blueprint.
October 13, 2016
GUEST AUTHOR: Blueprint by RJ Jones
Here I am at Nic Starr’s blog talking about the reasons why I write. If you want to know the in’s and out’s, here it is!
Rj❤
It’s always such a pleasure to host my friends on my website, and always even more special when it’s because they have a new release. This time it’s RJ Jones stopping by with the latest release in her Out of the Blue series, Blueprint. I had the privilege of beta reading this book and I think you’re going to love it. Plus there’s a giveaway!❤
Why I Write by RJ Jones
People often ask me why I write. Most of the time I tell them because I have voices in my head that won’t shut up unless I give them a story. But I’m thinking you want more of an answer than that. I’ll do my best.
I’ve always been creative. I have projects—some complete, some not—stored in boxes all over the house. I can knit, crochet, paint etc. You name it, I’ve tried it. I’ve made numerous mosaics…
View original post 789 more words
October 4, 2016
Blueprint is coming! (Read the first chapter in full here!)
I know I’m a bit late in doing a blog post on this but kids at home on school holidays kinda sucks my time. Anyway…
JET’S STORY IS COMING!!!
I know quite a few of you have been waiting for Jet’s story for some time and it has been my most frequently asked question. If you read Black & Bluhe you would’ve fallen in love with Jet well before you fell in love with Gray or Kris. It’s a fact that Jet is wonderful. He just is. He is adorable in all his vulnerability. He is one of my favourite characters to write and I’m so proud I could give him his happy ever after in Blueprint. But of course, this is me, so Jet’s happy doesn’t come without some hard work on his part.
Pre-order now (Release Oct 14)
Amazon All Romance Smashwords
CHAPTER ONE
Jet
“Jesus, Gray. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” I attempted to slam the front door on my brother, but he was right behind me as we entered the condo after our students’ final play performance.
“Like what, Jet? Just because I don’t want you to move out?”
I dropped my messenger bag on the living room floor with a heavy thud and turned to glare at him. “The only reason you don’t want me to move out is because then you won’t be able to look out for me, control me. Protect me.” My tone may have been a little singsongy on those last two words, but I didn’t care. Gray was smothering me, and I was more than a little tired of it.
Gray’s expression tightened as he flexed his fingers. “The last thing I want to do is control you. You’re free to do anything you want, you know that. You’re my brother, and I like having you here. I love you—that’s why I don’t want you to move out!”
I almost laughed when he yelled he loved me. It wasn’t the tone you’d normally use when telling someone that. Not that I’d know. He was the only person I’d said those words to.
But I knew Gray wasn’t angry. He was scared. He’d been protecting me out of a misguided sense of guilt since we were teens. Meeting Kris and moving in with him helped Gray accept that life moved on. But if I no longer lived with him and Kris, Gray would stress and drive all three of us crazy with his worry.
As it stood now, I had to watch them get all lovey over each other, reminding me of what was missing in my life and what I’d probably never have. Everyone around us was coupled-up. Cam and Jake’s wedding came and went. Brandon proposed to Mason, and even Gray, in all his brash broodiness, managed to find his soul mate in Kris. Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I was determined to hold onto my anger. If I didn’t, I’d turn into the pathetic creature I knew I was.
I threw my hands in the air, my chest getting tighter as I glared at a slightly disheveled version of myself. “I’m not listening to you anymore. You need to get over this protective bullshit you’ve got going on and let me lead my life, and you need to get on with yours.”
Gray slumped a little, the tightness in his shoulders bleeding from him and his expression turning miserable. I couldn’t hide anything from him. Just as I knew he wasn’t angry, he knew I didn’t really want to move out.
“I’m just sick of being the third wheel.”
As soon as I finished that sentence—leaving no time for Gray to respond—the front door opened and Kris slowly ambled in, looking more than fine in his black suit, but bedraggled and sad. Dr. Nichols’s funeral must’ve taken a toll on him.
Gray was on him in an instant, our argument forgotten. That was okay. It wasn’t like we wouldn’t argue about it again next week.
“How was it?” Gray asked as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be there. We really wanted to go, but it was the final performance for the play…”
“It was fine,” Kris said against his shoulder. “Ethan was torn up, as you’d expect. He lost his mom only a few years before he left for Australia, and now his dad’s gone too.”
Dr. Nichols had died last week in a fishing accident. He was an old college buddy of Kris’s dad and the doctor who’d attended to Gray’s concussion and twisted ankle when Gray slipped on a loose rock one fishing trip. I didn’t know Dr. Nichols very well—having met him only a handful of times—but Gray had had a few fishing trips with him.
“I’m sorry, Kris. I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay? I have a session with Danielle,” I lied as I patted Kris on the shoulder. He was still engulfed in Gray’s arms. “I’ll take the car.”
Gray ran his hands up and down Kris’s back while he looked at me over his boyfriend’s shoulder. He looked so dejected and sorrowful, and I wasn’t sure how much of that was for Kris.
***
I hated lying to Gray, even if it was only a little white one. Although I didn’t really lie. Well, technically, I did. Sort of.
I’d told Gray I had a session scheduled with Danielle, my Pilates instructor, but in actual fact, I had a session with Jeremy, Gray’s MMA mentor. They both worked at the same gym, so…
Jeremy must’ve seen the look on my face as I exited the locker room because the first thing he said was, “You’ve been arguing again, haven’t you?”
“My brother’s an ass,” I grumbled while I slipped under the ropes into the ring and started to warm up.
“Gray was the biggest asshole I knew, but since he’s been with Kris, he’s mellowed. He’s happy now, but not as much fun in the ring as he used to be. You looking to take over his spot?”
“No.”
“Then wipe the scowl from your face and get moving faster.”
No wonder Gray always referred to Jeremy as a tough fucker in the ring. He was pretty hardcore and didn’t let anyone slack off. Gray was all about MMA, taking out his opponent in the shortest amount of time—and he could certainly kick ass—but I was here for self-defense lessons. I knew some moves, watched Gray a lot, and took notes, but it was time to get some real training under my belt. Especially if I was going to be living on my own. If Gray knew I could handle myself, then maybe he wouldn’t worry so much.
Jeremy was a good guy, albeit a little rough around the edges, and we’d been coming to his gym since we arrived in the Bay Area. He was one of the few people we could call a friend.
I ran in place to get my heart rate up while Jeremy paced, his gaze assessing me the entire time.
“Get your knees up.”
I ran harder, lifting my knees almost to my chest. Sweat dripped down my back, and I was glad I’d splurged and purchased the moisture-wicking shirt rather than a regular T-shirt. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for my tights, but they made my ass look great.
Jeremy continued his relaxed walk while I was about ready to drop dead from exhaustion. Pilates was one thing; full-on cardio with an MMA fighter was something else.
“One thing you need in self-defense is better stamina than your attacker. You need to know the moves and be quick in your execution. If you’re out of shape, you will lose.”
I stopped running and bent over, resting my hands on my knees as I sucked in great lungfuls of air. The sweat combined with my hair wax, making it so I couldn’t get the sticky strands out of my eyes easily. I had to remember to wash the product out beforehand next time.
No sooner had I stopped moving than Jeremy bellowed at me. “No standing still. Walk it off, breathe, then we’ll see what you’ve got.”
If I thought Jeremy was going to take it easy on me because we were friends, then I was stupidly mistaken. Jeremy put me through my paces, showing me how to flip an attacker if I was caught from behind—unsuccessfully, I might add—and other basic moves that I really should’ve known before now.
Then the comments and questions started.
“He’s scared, you know.” Jeremy feigned an attack to the left. I dodged him, only for him to come at me again. I wasn’t so lucky the second time.
“I do,” I stated, puffing harder. “But he needs to get over himself.” I huffed a frustrated breath as I tried to take Jeremy’s legs out and failed.
“You don’t really want to move out.”
My lungs burned and I wondered why we were talking. “I need to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m sick of being the third wheel. They cuddle on the couch and watch stupid TV all wrapped up together. I sit all by myself, pretending I’m interested in watching whatever program is on. When I go to my room with my laptop to have some time to myself, they don’t even notice I’ve left the room. I may as well not be there at all.”
“You don’t want to move out.”
Insightful fucker.
“You’ve lived with your brother your whole life and now you’re watching him move on—as hard as that might be for him to do—with someone who loves him. They’re making a life together, and you know eventually that won’t include you. You want what they have.”
I straightened my stance as I glared at him. Jeremy’s all-knowing gaze didn’t waver.
“Tell me,” he went on. “If you could have a boyfriend, someone who loves you like Kris does Gray, would you still want to live with them?”
“I…” Would I? If I could be with someone who loved me and still share a place with Kris and Gray, is that something I’d want? Would my future boyfriend want that? Probably not. I didn’t want to leave Gray, or Kris for that matter, the big guy was like another brother to me. “I wouldn’t move far,” I finished lamely.
As I said those final, pathetic words, Jeremy flipped and pinned me to the mat, his forearm pressing lightly against my throat. “This is why you need to be here. You’re easily distracted, the same as your brother. I’ve been pussyfooting around tonight to see what you can do. I can tell you’ve been watching Gray, and with some hard work, I’ll be able to teach you some moves Gray won’t see coming.”
Jeremy stood and held out his hand, pulling me to my feet. Training was over. Thank God. “I’ll tell Danielle to up your Pilates workout. Your balance wasn’t the best tonight, and you’ll need it to train with me.”
He was right, my balance was a little off after the stress of arguing with Gray. Fatigue didn’t help, either. My cheek twitched in agreement. Great, I’d overdone it.
“Oh, and make sure you add in a weight routine.”
I climbed out of the ring and stuck my middle finger up at him as I headed for the showers.
Jeremy’s deep chuckle followed me. “Just like your brother.”
***
I managed to get a parking spot outside our building, and after I pulled the emergency brake, I looked up to see Kris sitting on a bench alone. I briefly wondered why he was there and where my brother was. Then I realized he was waiting for me.
“What took you so long?” Kris asked as I approached, not moving from his position on the wooden seat. He’d showered and changed, the somber suit replaced with a tight black T-shirt and sweats. “Thought Pilates only went for an hour.”
I sat beside him. “It does. I was training with Jeremy.”
Kris’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Say what?”
“Jeremy’s showing me some self-defense moves. I know why Gray goes on about him now. He’s a sadistic bastard.” I was going to be sore tomorrow.
Kris chuckled, probably remembering some of the moves Jeremy had put him through. Kris was a firefighter with some mean boxing skills. He wasn’t out of shape by any stretch of the imagination. “He is, but he’s the best person to train you. He knows everything. Knows how much you’ll be able to handle and what you need.”
I eyed Kris. “You won’t tell Gray?”
“Not if you don’t want me to, but you won’t be able to keep it from him forever. Why don’t you want him to know?”
“He wouldn’t like the idea of me training with Jeremy; he’d be scared I’d get hurt. Gray knows me better than I know myself, but sometimes I wish he didn’t know everything. I’d like something to be just for me.”
“Is that why you want to move out?” Kris’s bummed-out tone as he looked at the ground between his feet made me feel like an ass.
“He told you we’ve been arguing, huh?” I laughed a little, hoping to ease some of the strain that had been blanketing us since I sat next to him. “I don’t know. I love living with you, but sometimes it gets to be a little too much. I don’t think I could live by myself, but I’m not sure how much longer I can continue to live here either.”
“You know what he’ll be like if you move out. He’ll visit all the time, call you every day and night to make sure you’re okay. He may smother you a little now, but if you live somewhere else, he’ll turn into a stalker.” Kris glanced at me, his lips quirking. “And he’ll drive me bat-shit crazy. I knew you guys were a package deal when I asked him to move in with me. I know how you both think.” Kris focused on the ground once more. “You wanna know the picture that popped into my mind before you guys moved in?”
I shook my head but Kris told me anyway.
“I had an image of living in the suburbs, picket fence, you know? Gray and me and a yard with a dog. Maybe a kid.” Kris turned his entire body toward me, his expression solemn. “And you living next door.”
It was a nice fantasy, albeit a sad one. Sad because, even though Gray had been going to counseling, I’d never move too far away from him. Not because he wouldn’t let me, but because I wouldn’t want to. Gray and I were a package deal; I was as dependent on him as he was on me, and I was beyond pleased that Kris understood and accepted that. Many partners wouldn’t.
I smiled at Kris, probably a little wistfully. My eyes burned with gratitude.
“Maybe you could rent one of the condos in our building,” he went on. “That might be a good place to start. You can visit whenever you want, and Gray won’t be such a bear to live with if he knows you’re still close by. Jasmine across the hall is selling, finally moving in with her boyfriend. You could have your space but still be close, and if you get sick of us, all you’d have to do is walk next door. You could bring a boyfriend home without Gray being all up in his face.”
“Jasmine’s place is great. All modern and sleek.” I perked up a little. The thought of plush leather and sleek stainless steel was enticing. Then I sobered. “I don’t have the money to buy anything. It’s a nice thought, though.”
“What happened to your share of the money from your home in Seattle?”
I thought we’d told Kris everything, but I guess we hadn’t. “When our father pled guilty and was hauled off to prison, Gray sold the house and car to pay for my rehab for my injuries. Somehow he managed to get me into one of the top facilities in the country, but it didn’t come cheap. The rest went to college.”
“I’d assumed that but wasn’t sure if you might have some of it tucked away. I didn’t want to ask. If he hadn’t done that, though, you might never have regained the ability to walk. Or do anything again, for that matter. He fought hard for you.” Kris’s voice broke on the last few words, and I had to look away from the emotion in his eyes.
“I know.” He wasn’t telling me anything I wasn’t aware of. Even though some of the details were a little sketchy, the actions of our father had cost not only me, but my brother as well, and it wasn’t just monetary.
When I first woke up after the beating our drunken father had given me, I thought I was dead. During those months in the hospital, then the rehabilitation facility, there were times I prayed for it. I hadn’t been able to move much, and what little movement I did have, I had no control over. Gray helped feed me, using a small spoon to scoop the bland food into my mouth. He washed and shaved me, brushed my hair. He rubbed moisturizer into my pale and withered flesh, as the air-conditioning dried my skin so much. He helped me use the bathroom. Humiliating didn’t begin to cover it. At the time he was doing it because he loved me. We were identical twins, after all, so our bond was that much stronger than ordinary siblings, but he was also looking after me because he felt guilty. He didn’t walk home with me that fateful day after school like he usually did. He’d been blaming himself ever since.
Now Gray was overprotective and smothering. Although, to give him credit, since meeting Kris, he was a lot better than he used to be, and the counseling helped. But I still lived with him. I needed to move out, not only so I could move on and have my own life, but so Gray could too.
“He’s cooking pasta, you know.” Kris’s words brought me out of my reverie.
I beamed. “He’s sucking up.”
Kris grinned; he was fully aware of how good Gray’s pasta was. “He is.”
“Maybe we should argue more often.” I stood, clasping Kris’s shoulder. “C’mon. I’m fucking starving now.”
I hope you enjoyed that little insight into Jet’s story.
RJ
❤
August 14, 2016
What happens when RJ is very tired… If I had three wishes
When I’m overtired I get a little silly and my imagination often runs away. This is me right now. While I was waiting for my husband to cook dinner (I’m lucky like that) my mind wandered off. This is where it went without my permission.
Wish 1 – 55% of the world’s population would be gay. Not to make heterosexuals the minority, but to make being gay as normal as going down the shop for a loaf of bread. ‘Homophobia’ would be stricken from the dictionary simply because it no longer existed.
Wish 2 – Everyone would be born with eyes that didn’t see the colour of other people’s skin. People of colour would still exist but because no one would be able to see it, it would be a non-issue. The only reason why we wouldn’t like someone would be because they had better hair. (My hair sucks, so this is totally legitimate)
Wish 3 – Bigotry and hatred would still be a thing. (C’mon. I’m trying to be realistic here.) However, it would be illegal and severely frowned upon so much that all bigots would be forced to leave the global ‘village’. They would start a commune high in the Siberian mountains where they would be forced to live on berries and magical wild elk. These elk would be in abundance and breed like rabbits. When consumed the hateful person would see the light of their ways, be filled with love, and wonder why they believed in the hatred in the first place. Reformed bigots would be welcomed back into the fold with open arms. Bigots who refuse to eat the magical elk die from starvation. Donald Trump is their leader. He’s currently on an intravenous drip of berry juice, but it doesn’t look good. Even on his deathbed he is still an arsehole.
I apologise for being so tired.
I’m off to bed.
❤
RJ
June 8, 2016
For the pirates/parasites. This ones for you… listen closely, fuckers.
If you’re one of those people who are ‘poor’ and ‘can’t afford to buy books because… poor’ and you download them from a pirate website, then you need to listen the hell up.
I am an indie author. Which means I have to pay editors, cover artists, promotion companies, etc. out of my own pocket to make my stories fit for public consumption. This doesn’t come cheap. Let’s break it down shall we?
I wrote a story that I laughingly refer to as ‘The Book That Doesn’t Sell’ so I’m using Indigo Road as my example. Why doesn’t it sell? I have no idea. Everything else I have written, even though none have made the top ten, have sold reasonably well. Except this one.
It has a beautiful cover, enticing blurb and has an above average rating on Goodreads. (4.11 at last look) It’s well written (even my editor complimented it – and that’s as rare as hen’s teeth. You could have knocked me over with a feather) People have told me it’s their read of the year and one lovely reader even made some fan art for me (no one has ever done that before or since) It’s also cheap. Like .99c cheap. It’s almost free. But it doesn’t sell. Why not? I have no f**king clue.
But here’s what I wanted to share with you. Take note, Parasites.
*All costs shown have been converted to USD*
Cover Art $185.00
Editing $255.00
Promo $100.00
Copyright $ 35.00
Paperbacks to onsell $65.00
Total cost out of my pocket $640.00
Remember, that’s BEFORE I’ve even released the book.
Now let’s look at the time it took for me to write it. I started writing at the end Dec 2014 and finished the first draft in mid April 2015. Did I work every day? No, but I wrote MOST days. For arguments sake, let’s say I spent 2 hours per day, Mon – Fri, writing the first draft. That’s reasonable. If I’m working for minimum wage ($17.29 ph in Aust or $7.25 in US. Let’s use USD to keep things uniform) this is what it would be.
2 hrs per day x 80 days x $7.25 = $1,160.00. That’s just the first draft. I’m not taking into account rewrites, editing, proofing, promo etc.
Total cost to RJ $1160 + $640 = $1800.00
Now for sales. I released this book on December 4, 2015 with the original list price of $3.99. That’s about the max I can ask for my books as I don’t have the backing of a publisher and I need to be competitive so I can get my name out there in the hope readers will see me. I dropped the price to .99c pretty quickly when I realised no one was buying it, in the hopes it would gain some traction and lead people to my higher priced stories. Plus I thought an inexpensive read was something nice to do for my readers. That being said, it didn’t work, and this little gem of a read still doesn’t sell. So how much money have I made in 6 months?
USD $530.14
This means I am out of pocket by $1,269.86.
Bloody hell! I knew it didn’t sell, but now that I’ve added up the figures, that’s just freaking ridiculous!
I haven’t even covered the cost of my expenses, never mind the time spent actually writing!
How many of you go to work, and because you love what you do soooo much, you pay your employer for the priviledge?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Indigo Road is on various pirate/parasite websites and I know one of those sites has had over 1500 downloads. Imagine if those 1500 people had actually f**cking paid for it! I would have been able to cover my costs!
Lucky for me, my other stories sell and I have managed to cover my costs for them, but don’t think for one solitary second, that writing in this genre makes enough money to live on. For the amount of hours it takes, I don’t make minimum wage, in any currency. I’m lucky I have a supportive husband who makes enough to cover the household bills, otherwise I’d be forced back to work and writing would take a backseat – like it does for many authors out there.
So to the parasites that are crying ‘poor’, how about you step back and have a think. Next time one of your ‘favourite authors’ stops writing because they can’t afford it, ask yourself if you’re part of the reason.
Next time you step into a Starbucks and buy your caramel frappacino with double cream whatever, how about you buy your ‘favourite author’ one too. I’m sure they’d appreciate it.
If, after all this, you’re still ‘poor’, go to the freaking library. Books are still free there.
So to the woman who said “but they can afford it!” No. No, we can’t.
No love,
RJ
May 31, 2016
GIVEAWAY! and Interview with F.E. Feeley Jr.
Make sure you check out my review of Still Waters on the Two Men blog here.
Here goes. Let hope he sticks around till the end.[image error]
Okay, question one. Most writers I know have always written in one form or other, from the time they were children. But there’s always that triggering moment when they decide they can write a book for publication. What was yours?
I loved to write since I was a kid in high school and I loved to read since I was much younger. It was an escape and I would enter scary story contests that my high school would have and I won both in my Junior or Senior year. In college, I loved to write papers. The bigger, the more complicated, the more opportunity to walk my points out in philosophy, they happier I was. And I was good at it. So when I sat down with Timber Manor, it started in notebooks and little scraps of paper where I’d written things down and I started to inject things from a journal I had been keeping. It was rough, it still is, it could still use a good editor. I didn’t understand the process of publishing like I do now, but once I got that first contract…instant addiction.
I’m genuinely curious about your writing process: What are the first steps you take, in either plotting or planning, before you write your first word of a new book? Are you a plotter or a pantser?
An idea can come from anywhere. In my second book, Objects in The Rearview Mirror, the book is based off Jim Steinman’s song of the same name. Once something enters my head, a musical note, a turn of phrase, a philosophical concept…. I’ll turn it over and over. Then I start asking myself questions about it. How could I build a story around this certain idea? So, it’s not like I sit down with a blank word processor page open, and let go a stream of consciousness. I already have an idea what I want to do and while that idea may change as I go along, the bones sort of remain the same.
Do you write everyday or just when the muse is talking?
I only write when the muse is driving me up a wall. And sometimes it’s not a book. Sometimes its poetry or a blog about an idea or another. I am jealous of those who can sit down and clock x thousand words in x hours. I’ve tried that. And the screen will remain blank and I’m mad at myself.
I know this doesn’t sound rational, but I feel like there’s a doorway in my mind and on the otherside of that door is all of human experience, truth, beauty, love, etc. and I have to wait for that door to open. And when it does, I feel like someone else comes through to do the work through me. Like I’m just the medium. And it’s interesting because when I type “THE END” and get ready to send it off to publication, the part where you have to write the synopsis and later on blurbs – I can’t remember what I wrote. I have a vague idea, but when I try to verbally describe it to someone, I can’t. I sound like an idiot. But then I go back and read what I’ve written and there it is. My book. My name on it. But I often feel like it isn’t mine alone.
I’ve read some of your poems and they’re always filled with emotion, good and bad. Is poetry where your heart lies, or is writing in general your passion?
People I love in my life are fans of poetry, and growing up in Detroit and in fundamentalist religion, there were certain things I wasn’t really exposed to. Things like poetry, or the ballet, or symphonies. And I took my art where I could. I had to sneak and listen to the radio. I kept my Christopher Pike and R.L. Stein (Fear Street forever, yo) books as well as my Stephen King books, hidden in a box underneath my bed. I coveted what exposure I did have. And that shaped my world view.
So, when I started reading poetry from Langston Hughes (Harlem Sweeties), Dr. Maya Angelou (I know why the caged Bird Sings), Edna St. Vincent Millay (Conscientious Objector), Shakespeare (Sonnet 116 is my favorite), Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (The Day is Done),
When I got my first taste of it, I found myself hungry for it. And people had commented on the prose of my books, that it read like poetry. So, to attempt it was the next logical step. But again, it feels like it does with my writing. I’ll feel that door creak open in my head, I feel a lump in my throat, and suddenly I’m tapping away at my phone. And just like my books, I don’t remember them. I’ve memorized those above that I mentioned, but not my own.
Now, whether I’m any good at it, remains to be seen. But where my heart lies, well, that’s in the written word.
For me, your books are in a genre all their own. They’re contemporary romance, but have a paranormal twist to the plot. How would you describe them?
“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” ― Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
I believe that. And I think because of the nature of the process for me, I believe more than most, maybe. That’s where the title of the series comes from, Memoirs of the Human Wraiths. I try to encompass everything that a gay couple could encounter in this world – physical and otherwise and their love may take a back seat, their haunting may take a back seat, but I hope that their humanity is what shines through. So when it comes to titles, I don’t know.
Did you read any horror authors growing up? I devoured a lot of Stephen King in my teens. (up until he went left of field anyway)
I read primarily horror and spooky books. My mother hated it. She said I had a fascination with the macabre. And I think there may have been something to that. I think I still do. I know there is a world outside of our own. I feel like I can feel it sometimes.
I mean, I wasn’t goth or anything, but yeah, I was definitely hanging out with King who is my hero.
What’s your favorite thing to do in your spare time?
Cook. I love cooking. And cleaning. I’m sick. I love laundry. My life is so damn boring, let me give you an example. I sent a tweet to Tide and thanked them for linking up with Fa-breeze to create those little laundry pods you can buy now. I was so excited. I was like, “This is the best!”
I like looking up recipes on the internet and trying them. When my husband showed up with a Cast Iron Skillet and A Dutch oven, I was over the moon. He so got laid that night.
I love feeding people. There’s something about knowing that what I am giving them will sustain them for a little while, makes me happy.
I love to get drunk with my best friend. Thank you to the makers of Johnny Walker Black. When we visit with each other, we get silly and Irish and sing. I love music for the same reason I love books and poetry. He’s my buddy. And like clockwork he’ll forget the lyrics, and I’ll laugh and remind him, and it’s fucking perfect.
I love to do yoga. Yoga with Adriene on Youtube is the bomb. She’s amazing. So is Mat From Muscle and Mat. He’s this really soft spoken guy and when you first see him and hear him, your like, “Oh….this shouldn’t be bad.” And later on when your crying on the floor, you take it all back. LOL
I love gaming. I’m a huge gamer. Dragon Age series FUCKIN ROCKS!!!!!!! Mass Effect, Witcher, Star Trek online, Fallout, Skyriim, yeah…it’s a serous condition. I’m currently having an affair with Bioware. The writers are sublime. The story arcs are phenomenal, and the graphics are simply gorgeous.
You’re married to a wonderful and supporting husband, John. How did you meet? Was it love at first sight? When did you get married? Give us the low-down.
I met my husband at the corner of End of my rope and Can I get off, please? LOL
No. I saw him on campus at the school we went to and I’d noticed him for a couple of years. But I was either dating someone else or I would see him and he would vanish. Well, one day, I was horribly single and there he was speaking to a mutual acquaintance and I told myself, “I’m butting in.” And I did. And we’ve been together for five years this December.
Describe yourself in four words.
I’m a hot mess
Who is your go-to author to lift your spirits and bring you out of a book slump? (MM and other genre)
Jamie Fessenden is amazing. And what’s fun about being an author in this genre is other authors send you their shit to read over. We call it beta reading. If you are a reader you have grounds to be jealous. Cause he’s amazing.
Aj Rose kicks ass as does her wife Kate Aaron.
Stephen King, of course.
I just finished Susan Kay’s Phantom. Her – expansion I guess, on the original Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Lacroix. Which is freaking phenominal. And has inspired me to create my own version of Erik in an alternate steampunk America. I fell in love with that man a long time ago, I think gay people are huge fans of broadway, and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom, and I think it’s time us gay boys get to have our moment with him.
I know you love music. Who’s your favourite artist and why?
Oh, God. That’s so not easy. My taste changes every day. So I’ll give you a playlist of my favorites.
P!nk
Adele
Brandi Carlile (everything she sings is soo good)
Bon Jovi
Evanescence
Halestorm
Tina Turner
Justin Jones (His album ‘fading light’ is so fucking good. If you have Spotify, do yourself a favor)
Marc Cohn (his version of “Man of the world” from The Prince and Me….so good)
Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah
Meatloaf (Jim Steinman is a minor deity, I’m sure of it)
You and Me
Sarah McLachlan
Boston
Bad Company
Foreigner
Journey
All the 80’s hair bands (nobody writes like that anymore)
And opera and gospel and yeah. You get the idea.
Rapid Fire Questions with explanations of course! Can’t let you off that easy.
Favourite Colour.
Blue is my signature colour.
Favourite word.
Fuck (Yeah I think we all like that one)
Favourite place to holiday.
The beach. I love the water.
Last book you read?
As the Ice Melts by RJ Jones – freaking good. (Aww, shucks. I’ll take that.)
Biggest Pet Peeve
Inconsiderate people
Coffee or Tea?
Coffee please
Listener or talker?
Both
What television shows are you currently addicted to?
Grace and Frankie! Frankie is my spirit animal.
Dinner at home or dinner out?
Dinner at home
Night Owl or Early Bird?
Night Owl
If you could have dinner with one person–living or dead–who would it be?
Abraham Lincoln
What is your next project?
My version of The Phantom of the Opera, I am working on a sequal to Objects in the Rearview Mirror, and I’m screwing around with a contemporary story called, Good Enough.
One more question then I’ll put you out of your misery.[image error]
Will we be getting more from Bret and Jeff from Still Waters? (The answer better be yes.)
I don’t think so. (Say what?)
I think when we closed the book on that, we closed the book on their story. I loved Jeff and Bret. I loved Jeff’s solid strength and this helpless superman who’d lost his cape when it came to stepping between Bret and the circumstances that threatened to sweep him away. Jeff’s journey from sort of tired old cop to suddenly being awakened by this beautiful man to being absolutely powerless to help him, was honest.
Bret was a product of a world that seethed and sat in the stink of its own ignorance. And sometimes that stuff can lash out and hurt others. But he had another kind of toughness. An endurance, an ability to hang on when he didn’t think he could. Even when the chips were laid down so to speak, he went faithfully to what he went to.
So, no, I don’t think there will be anymore with those two. But there will be more stories like that.
Thanks for joining me, Freddie! I’m looking forward to more of your work.
Now for the giveaway!
One random commenter on my blog and the Because Two Men Are Better Than One blog, will receive a free eBook of their choice from F.E.
F.E. Feeley Jr’s bio
F.E. Feeley Jr was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan and lived there for twenty years before joining the military. He is a veteran of the US Armed Services; having done a tour in support of Operation Iraq Freedom in 2002-2003, he turned college student, pursuing a degree in political science. He now lives in Southeast Texas where he is married to the love of his life, John, and where they raise their 1½ year old German shepherd, Kaiser.
As a young man, reading took center stage in his life, especially those novels about ghosts, witches, goblins, and all the other things that went bump in the night. His favorite authors include such writers as Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Anne Rice, whose work allowed him to travel to far off places and meet fascinating and scary characters. As a gay man, he wishes to be able to write good fictional literature for those who love the genre and to write characters that readers can relate to. All in all, he is a cigarette smokin’, whiskey drinkin’, rock and roll lovin’, tattoo wearin’ dreamer of a man with a wonderful husband who puts up with his crap and lets him write his stories.
You can connect with F.E. Feeley here:
Goodreads Facebook Twitter F.E’s Blog
