K.Z. Snow's Blog, page 23

Saturday Snark III

Welcome to another edition of Marie Sexton's "Saturday Snark"! The selection below is from my Dreamspinner novella The Prayer Waltz. The narrator, Steven Brandwein, has decided to pray before a statue of St. Jerome. He's at the church where his late lover, an ex-priest, once served.

His snark is gentle and rueful and mostly self-directed.

(Click on the post title to get to Marie Sexton's blog, where you'll find her own sample as well as links to those of other authors!)

* * *

Taking a deep breath, I sank to the hard kneeling rail and rested the wrists of my folded hands against the equally hard prayer rail. Maybe supplicants had to sacrifice comfort in addition to money if they expected something in return.

At least, I thought, I won't have to flagellate myself.

I turned up my eyes to address Jerome. Actually, I first looked at his statue's pedestal. A plaque affixed to it read:

Be at peace with your own soul, then heaven and earth will be at peace with you.~ St. Jerome(Eusebius Sophronius Hieronymus, 340-420)
My gaze crept up to his face. Please don't look at me. You might be the patron saint of orphans and abandoned children, but you are one scary fella.

After that, my mind pretty much went blank. I realized for the second time in my life that I didn't know how to pray. The first time was after Frank's accident. I didn't know how many or what kinds of requests my ten dollars and sore knees had secured me or what words would give them wings. Although my father was Jewish and my mother was Catholic, they were old hippies and hadn't put too much stock in organized religion. I'd been exposed to it but never steered down a particular path. So I hadn't spent too much time in places of worship.

Miserably, I mouthed Frank's name. Then, I miss you.

A yammering began in my mind, a rattling, falling, bouncing and scattering string of words, like poorly matched beads sliding off a broken necklace.

Steven Brandwein here. Please oh please bless the soul and anything else that's left of Frank Connor and grant him eternal joy and peace, he was once your loyal servant and I know he was a damned good one, but he wasn't created according to most men's interpretation of the rules of creation, hell, you know that, so he was forced to stop serving, he didn't want to but he couldn't deny his nature, I don't know why any good man should feel pressured to deny his nature, what the fuck is wrong with people, please fix them, douse them with enlightenment or give them a kick in the ass or something, this shit has got to stop, there are too many Franks out there, but thank you for the gift he was, only why did you let him get ripped up so much before you sent him my way, oh just please let him know how much he meant to me and give him a pat on the back for a good job well done and stuff him with happiness even if it's in the form of hard dick because he's earned it, pardon my crudeness…oh, and assure him I don't mind.

As the syllables tumbled, I'd unwittingly made a basin with my hands and dropped my face into it. Lightly, my breath and shoulders hitched. The skin of my inner fingers felt damp.

I'm all right, Steve. I'm home now. It's perfect. You must go be happy.

I lifted my face, wishing I could tell the difference between words from beyond the veil and words from within the well of wishful thinking. Fuck.

Sunday is Gay Day!

[image error]
On Sunday, October 30, every writer of m/m romance in the known universe will be at Ethan Day's Yahoo group for Gay Day . (Yeah, okay, I might be exaggerating . . . but not by much.) This is the first time I'll be participating. There will be, as usual, chatter and excerpts and giveaways aplenty, including my offering of a free download of either The Zero Knot (that's the other book Dreamspinner released on the same day as Divide and Conquer) or any title from my backlist -- all of which you can peruse on my website.

Click on the post title to get there. If you're brave enough.

Saturday Snark II

Welcome to another edition of Marie Sexton's SATURDAY SNARK! (Click on that link to see Marie's snarky snippet as well as those of other m/m authors.)

My contribution this week comes from my Loose Id novel, Mobry's Dick (available in ebook as well as print). In the passage below, Cameron Waters (MC #1) is in bed with a trick named Doug. Somebody's been making Cam feel mighty good. Thing is, Doug's fast asleep. Much to Cameron's surprise, and embarrassment, a third man has sneaked into bed with them. It's Cam's temporary boarder, Paul Patrillo (MC #2), a man on the mend from some injuries. 'Fraid I can't tell you how he sustained them. ;-)

Sorry that this is more an excerpt than a snippet; it's kind of the Energizer Bunny of snark.

* * *

"What the…?" It was Doug's voice again, carrying confusion and annoyance.

Light flared from the nightstand lamp on Cam's side of the bed. He blinked against it as he boosted himself onto his elbows and tried to focus on Doug's muscular bulk. Doug wasn't looking at him. Doug was looking past him.

"Well, well. Little Cameron found a playmate." A different voice…and one Cam knew well.

He clumsily flipped onto his back and scooted toward the headboard.

Naked, Paul stood over the bed, his incipient boner shrinking.

"Who are you?" Doug asked. A logical question.

"The invalid who's been locked in the spare room."

Doug shot Cam a befuddled glance before focusing on Paul once more. "You don't look like no invalid." His bleary gaze fixed on Paul's cock.

"I don't look like an invalid."

Reality swam away as Cam stared at Paul. His houseguest had been doing this and not his pick-up? He blinked, even more stunned than poor, blindsided Doug, and tried to shed the feeling he was precious to the man who'd been exploring his body so intimately.

"That's what I said," Doug countered. "Why were you locked in another room?"

Cam finally found his voice as his haze of arousal, and shock, dissipated. "He wasn't locked in any damned room. He was just downstairs, asleep. Or so I thought."

Paul coolly regarded him. "Where'd you find the bear?"

Cam clamped his hands to his head. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I thought that was fairly obvious."

"You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend," Doug said to Cam. He sounded both irked and a little hurt.

"I don't have a boyfriend. For shit's sake, I just came out—"

"Three weeks ago," Paul said, looking at his wrist as if it bore a watch.

"Then who the fuck is he?" Doug was clearly flustered. As if underscoring his frustration, he farted—an oddly high-pitched sound for so beefy a man. Its thin squeal seemed to burrow into the mattress.

Paul frowned at him. "Did you just—?"

"Get out of here!" Cam scrambled off the bed. As he guided Paul toward the door, he said over his shoulder, "He's Paul Patrillo, a temporary housemate. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

"Maybe we could have a threesome." Doug obviously became more alert the longer he ogled Paul.

"I think Cameron's already met his group-sex quota for the week."

"Will you please shut the hell up?" Cam hissed into Paul's ear.

Paul tried to step past him and head for the nightstand. "Just let me grab my lube and condoms, would you? Remember, I don't have a sugar daddy to pay for this stuff anymore."

Cam blocked him. "Later." He managed to guide Paul onto the landing outside the bedroom. "What the hell were you trying to do?"

"Repay you." A shaft of moonlight slicing through an octagon window made Paul a shadow with features. A tall and handsome shadow that smelled of male heat and clean linen and herbal shampoo.

"For what?" Cam eased the bedroom door closed at his back.

Paul's eyes gleamed as he rolled them upward. "For putting me up. You invited me to stay here when I got out of the hospital. Remember? You've been taking care of me. Remember?"

Repay you. Hardly an act of adoration. Hell, it barely qualified as intimate, regardless of where Paul's mouth had been. "Don't get smart," Cam muttered.

How could he forget taking care of this guy and keeping him entertained for the past three weeks? Watching movies and playing Scrabble with him. Cooking for him. Taking him to doctor appointments and driving nearly thirty-six miles every other day to pick up his mail. Helping bathe him—a unique agony because, even blotched with bruises the color of old, boiled egg yolks, Paul had an irresistible body.

The fresh memory of that masterful rimming sent a pulse through Cam's cock.

Paul reached forward and cupped it, as if he'd sensed the reaction. "Hey, how was I supposed to know that after three weeks out, you'd start turning into a slut?"

Cam jerked backward. "Shhh."

"The bear didn't peel your bud, did he?"

"What?"

"Muscle man in there. It doesn't seem he fucked you—thank God. That would've been an unpleasant surprise."

"No, he didn't. As if it's any of your business."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't he fuck you?"

"Because we jerked each other off." Why did Cam even tell him? They were starting to seem like fraternity brothers, that's why. Fraternity brothers who happened to be attracted to each other and once had sex together.

Paul felt Cam's pubic hair. "Sure as shit. Feels like somebody wiped his shoes on your welcome mat. What a waste."

New-Project News

Well, the way things are going in the m/m romance genre, it looks like writers who take their time writing, and don't self-publish, will be lucky to put out one story a year. And that goes for shorter works as well as novels.

My 45k-word contemporary novella, A Hole in God's Pocket, has been contracted by Dreamspinner and is scheduled for release in the spring of 2012.

My current WIP, the latest addition to the Jackson Spey / Adin Swift saga, will either be a three-part novel or a mini-serial of three novellas. If I go the latter route, my vision is to have the three installments released in fairly rapid succession -- say, a month or two apart -- because I know how frustrating it is for readers to deal with cliffhangers.

The business is changing, that's for sure. Authors will have to place (or produce) their work accordingly.  

Saturday Snark

So . . . this is Marie Sexton's idea. And a fun one. Authors post snarky snippets from their stories. Here's my first contribution, from Abercrombie Zombie, when the desperate Dustin DeWind meets the wizard he hopes will help him:

"Please let me talk to you," the zombie said hurriedly, before the door was slammed in his face. "I have nowhere else to turn. My name is—"

"I know who you are. Word travels." The man's deep voice was both coarse and soft, like sand-scoured velvet. He eyed his visitor from head to foot. "You look like shit. But I suppose being dead will do that to a person."

Click on the link above (to Marie's blog) to read more snarkalicious samples!

Spread the Love on Spirit Day

Be sure to wear purple on Thursday, October 20 to show your support for GLBT youth and to decry bullying.(Hey, every little bit helps.) 

Sins Against My Eyes

So, I've been entertaining myself this weekend by trying to find pix of Gay Rom Lit (you guys suck at posting, except Marie and Heidi) and checking out some online scavenger hunts, because I'm not beyond trying to win an e-reader which are sometimes good for finding new reads. I just can't face writing at the moment.

But . . . people, PEOPLE, when are you going to learn? Gaaaaaaah!

Black backgrounds are B-A-D. End of discussion. Itty-bitty fonts plastered on top of them only make the situation worse. Have some consideration for your readers and get over the freakin' black already!Nobody wants to be greeted by crawling lines and spinning circles. We know they are indicative of something loading, but we don't want to wait! Not unless Ed McMahon will be jumping out of the monitor and handing each of us a good check for a million dollars (which would add wonder to wealth, because the dude's been dead for over two years).Clutter is unpleasant and confusing. Watch one of those hoarding shows on TV. You needn't put multiple columns or sections or book covers, or totems and sigils and a gazillion links on your freakin' home page. You know what this means? It means you're neurotic. It means you're so afraid of visitors missing something of (non) importance that you're willing to risk making them feel like they've fallen into the Matrix. I used to be unclear about what, exactly, the Matrix is, but I now have a much better idea after visiting a bunch of junked-up websites.Cleanliness is next to godliness. It's true. Haven't you ever felt divine right after taking a shower? With Ashton Kutcher a delicately scented, hand-milled soap, a big ol' loofah, and salon shampoo? Well, there you go. Keep your blogs and websites clean. And I don't mean make them sparkle. No no no. Just tell your web designers they needn't expend their lifetime allotment of creativity and cleverness on your site. All they need do is make it fast-loading, readable, well organized, and easily navigated. Leave Teh Awesome to the kids on MySpace.

I and many other people would appreciate it.

Something I have to do.

I know everybody's either in New Orleans or reading Divide and Conquer (or both), but I still feel obligated to post this reminder:

I have
a book coming outon Friday.Thank you.

(Now on to our regularly scheduled blogging.)

National Coming Out Day

Perhaps one of the most important things writers of gay fiction and m/m romance can do (especially authors of YA books) is provide encouragement and hope -- at least a glimmer of hope, 'cause we sure ain't gods -- to people who must deal with the experience of coming out. This theme figures heavily in my upcoming release, The Zero Knot, as well as many of my other books. In fact, scores of authors have tackled the subject.

I don't know if fiction writers can make a difference (hence the "perhaps" in the previous paragraph) in terms of personal and social acceptance. I sure as hell hope so. The fact that non-heterosexuality is any kind of issue is absurd to begin with, but as long as ignorant people keep making others' lives miserable, all proponents of queer pride have to contribute whatever they can.

Let's all hope and pray that someday this issue becomes a non-issue, and all the fussing can stop.

Meet a vampire; get 20% off!

Dreamspinner Press, as part of its Halloween celebration, is offering all stories featuring vampires at a 20% discount. Can't beat that with a stick -- or stake! My steampunk novel, MONGREL, is included because of a significant secondary character named Clancy Marrowbone. Oh yeah, he's all about Teh Blood (and he rather likes sex, too).