Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 77

Just Some Random Shit Basically

*  I signed the contract for Red Fish/Dead Fish-- yay!

*  People seem to be enjoying The Virgin Manny-- which is good, because after my current project, I have to write the third in the series. (Yes, everybody, the second one features Taylor as the primary MC--but he's been through a lot, I'm telling' ya!)

*  The dogs seem to have a thing against me knitting. Witness Geoffie, parked on my bicep, my hand trapped underneath, with no knitting in sight.

*  Mate and I went to PetSmart the other day to get cat food and looked at a cat. No, we did not get this one--named "Socks"--but when I ever get another cat, Socks would be the best cat to get. Huge, playful, very human. I hope someone who will adore her takes her home.

*  Someone who read Freckles got the mistaken impression that I was advocating just going out and replacing one dog with another if something bad happened. Uh, no. I was saying that being a dog owner was part of your identity. If you're a "dog owner" after a pet passes on, you will eventually go out and get another dog, because that's part of who you are. Like, I didn't used to think I was a small-dog owner, but now that I've had these guys for two and four years, I'm starting to think my life was incomplete without a small dog in it. Should the unthinkable happen, my life will be incomplete again, until I'm ready to fill that void.

*  Wow, that last thing was morbid.

*  On the happy side, I have a picture of Squish, modeling the scarf I made Big T.  For the record, it's the Stanley Scarf pattern, but since I was making it into color blocks, I added an extra garter ridge in each color to make it look more squares. Also, this scarf is a thinner than the original pattern--and the yarn isn't mohair.  But still--Stanley would have been proud.

*  I've spent a couple of relatively uneventful days working--or remembering how to work. Tomorrow I go see Berry Jello and her kids, and we get to sit on the couch and let the dogs neck with us and watch television unashamedly.  I can handle that.

*  Don't forget-- I'm having a chat with Rayna Vause and Kate McMurray on Sunday, 11 a.m. PST RIGHT HERE.   During my hour, I'm giving away books by Z.A. Mayfield, Kim Fielding, and Tara Lain-- and a few copies of Manny, of course ;-)

*  And now, off to write some more!

Coldness With a Chance of Cold

One of the lovely things about The Virgin Manny is the adorable young college man with the solid pecs standing in front of a swimming pool in the summer.

I love this picture.

Yes, Tino is cute, but mostly?

The picture is warm. So warm.

California is in the process of maybe not crisping away and withering sere into the furnace wind of the central valley.  It's a painful process, as you might imagine, made worse by the fact that we have not endured it for nearly five years.

As God is my witness, I'd forgotten magic sky water was so cold.

I mean, you get cocky, right?

Winter, what's winter? This is fuckin' California--I'll make it through winter with my capris and my flip-flops like my stepmom and her mom did before me. Yeah, sure, I got hoodies-- who wants to know? Throw a scarf on me, let me find my fingerless mittens from last year, and I'm takin' this season on by the teeth, I tell you, by the fuckin' TEETH!

Except now, after a week of cold temperatures (Oh my STARS, it got to 31 degrees here, can you believe that? Simply believe it? The frozen precipitation of end times almost graced our humble valley!) and magic sky water, I have a confession to make.

I'm sorry--I have to apologize to the Tough Old Broads Association, the Gnarly Geezers, and yes, even the Middle-Aged Muffins, who I'm sure have all shown more backbone than I have. But I have to say it. Oh, yes, people, I really do.

I'm fuckin' COLD.

I went walking this morning an my feet got wet and cold, and I took off the shoes so the wet went away, but the cold stayed ALL DAY. I wore capris because, you know, Tough Old Broad or Middle-Aged Muffin, capris are good for all temperatures, right?

WRONG!

I came home and put on pajama pants and my entire body sighed in relief. Holy shit and pass the big stretchy socks, who knew ankles lost so much body heat!!!

And the worst thing?

The absolutely WORST thing?

I lost my one fingerless mitt. (For those of you who are new, I make a pair every year and then, sometime during the winter, lose one. Just one. Which is why I make a new pair every year. I suspect my cat sleeps on them in a corner of the house at night, and laughs her ass off.)

I bought a cheap pair of mittens and cut off the finger and thumb-tips so I can function, but they're acrylic, guys. ACRYLIC. These mitts might have possibly kept the dinosaur warm when he was pumping this shit as blood, but it's not particularly warm NOW.

So there. I said it. And I'm relieved.

I'm cold. I'm freezing my tits off. They're gonna fall to my feet, and I'm going to use them to bowl for the heads of my enemies, and then summer's gonna come and I'm gonna be bummed. No more tits. I'll say the winter did them in, it was such a tragedy, for fuckin' real.

*whew*

Okay. My epic whine about the cold is over. You can all stop laughing at my expense now--by the time you see this I'll be cuddled up with Mate, two dogs, two cats, and two of exactly the same cotton quilts which keep Mate and Petris family and I toasty warm.

And I'll be warm. Ever so warm.

And really appreciative of those of you who live in the snow and see temperatures in the negatives and who live in the Mitten (Kaje Harper, I'm looking at you!) and laugh at us soft low-landers as we cuddle and whine.

Go ahead and laugh. I deserve it. But by golly, I can stand a good laugh if my feet are warm.

And you know, in the end?

We really do need the rain.

*Kermit Flail* January 2017!!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!



YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!

*whew*  Okay-- I have modest hopes for 2017, and they have certainly been raised by the offerings at this month's Kermit Flail.  
To start with, I need to say that Rayna Vause, Kate McMurray and I all have releases within two weeks of each other. We start with The Virgin Manny, my offering to the Dreamspun Desires line, then we have Kate McMurray's release on the 9th, Their Has to be a Reason, and then we have Rayna's Dreamspun Desire, Extra Sensual Perception.  So, since the three of us hang at cons (okay-- they let me hang with them. It's that simple. They are terminally East Coast Cool, and I am a dorky mom-thing from the sticks. They LET me hang with them and I am forever grateful because I love them terribly and want some of their cool to rub off on me.) Anyway-- we're going to do a FACEBOOK EVENT next Sunday, January 8th, watch this space for details, okay?  It's going to be 12-3 EST and we're each going to take turns having games and doing give aways and such. 
It'll be FAB and you're all invited.  
So THAT'S exciting.  
And then we have the awesome stuff HERE this week. Ki Brightly has a contemporary, Pheonix Hell gives a paranormal Christmas offering, K.C. Wells gives us a threesome (meow!), Anne Barwell gives us an historical, and the ever luminous Kim Fielding has some romantic suspense (YESSS!!)  
In addition, K.C. Wells has asked that I flail her friend's autobiography (it looks heartbreaking, sosyouknows) for him, and I said we are an equal opportunity flail here, so by all means take a look at Stephen Land's offering, The Race.  And speaking of equal opportunity, I met the fanTASTIC Ms. Melanie Jayne at Romantic Times last year, and she was charming and warm and lovely. She writes M/F, and it gives me TREMENDOUS pleasure to flail her this month. I can't wait to see her in May!
So like I said, it's an exciting bunch here this month.
Come see. 

Extra Sensual Perception

by Rayna Vause


If a stalker doesn’t kill them, the heat between them might.

Christopher Vincent is desperate enough for a job that he accepts an offer to entertain as a psychic in a friend’s nightclub. Jackson Whitman, one of the club’s co-owners, is less than thrilled by the new act. To him, psychics are ridiculous and a liability. But when they come face-to-face, attraction flares to life between them.

Someone is watching Jack and Chris from the shadows. What starts as a series of creepy encounters leads to deadly attacks. Jack and Chris must set aside their differences and work together tosurvive a homicidal stalker. But can they survive their explosive
connection?

Buy at DSP
Dave is enjoying his junior year at a big New England university, even if none of his relationships have been especially satisfying. He plans to hang around with his best friend Joe and focus on his studies until he graduates, and then he’ll figure out the rest.

Meeting Noel changes his plans.

Noel is strikingly beautiful and unlike anyone Dave knows. Something about Noel draws Dave to him—an attraction Dave doesn’t feel ready to label. And even if he was, why would Noel be interested in Dave? And what about Joe? He hates Noel and everything he represents, and he might hate Dave if he finds out about Dave’s secret desires. So Dave will have to keep those feelings hidden—along with his relationship with Noel.

But Noel has fought too hard for his identity to be Dave’s dirty secret. Will Dave tell the truth and risk the life he’s always known… or live a lie and risk losing the love of his life?
Buy at DSP

The Virgin Manny 
By Amy Lane
The Mannies

Growing up and falling in love...

Sometimes family is a blessing and a curse. When Tino Robbins is roped into helping his sister deliver her premade Italian dinners when he should be studying for finals, he’s pretty sure it’s the latter! But one delivery might change everything.

Channing Lowell’s charmed life changes when his sister dies and leaves him her seven-year-old son. He’s committed to doing what’s best for Sammy… but he’s going to need a lot of help. When Tino lands on his porch, Channing is determined to recruit him to Team Sammy.

Tino plans to make his education count—even if that means avoiding a relationship—but as he falls harder and harder for his boss, he starts to wonder: Does he have to leave his newly forged family behind in order to live his promising tomorrow?

Buy at DSP

Trust Trade
by Ki Brightly
Life hasn’t been good to Jeb Birchman. When he attempted to escape his abusive, zealot father, he found himself on the streets, making a living the only way he knew how, the victim of more violent men—one of whom orchestrates a series of vicious attacks that leave Jeb deaf. Now that he’s aged beyond his latest client’s interest, Jeb knows he needs to escape his risky lifestyle before it’s too late. Seeing one last chance for himself, he earns a GED and enrolls in college.

Freddy Williams enjoys a life that couldn’t be more different from what Jeb has survived. He loves sports, being a personal trainer, and hanging out with friends. The son of deaf parents, Freddy is an outspoken advocate of the Deaf community and works as an interpreter at his college. When he meets Jeb at the bookstore, he’s struck by how attractive he is, and as they get to know each other, he finds Jeb’s good heart just as appealing. By the time he learns of Jeb’s past, it’s only a few steps behind them, and Freddy must make a choice between school and his familiar routine and protecting the man he’s falling in love with.


Buy at DSP

A Bond of Truth

by K.C. Wells
Sequel to A Bond of Three

It is twenty years since the Bond of Three returned to Teruna. The kingdom of Kandor, once Teruna’s enemy, seeks help and sends its finest warrior, Dainon, on a diplomatic mission. A solitary man since his wife and child died, Dainon is unable to explain why an encounter with a young man on a beach rocks his world to its core.

Prince Arrio of Teruna has always been attracted to men but has never acted on it—until he meets Dainon. Headstrong Arrio goes after what he wants, despite his fathers’ advice. But when Prince Kei arrives unexpectedly, Arrio finds himself drawn to both men. Is history repeating itself?

Prince Kei has his first taste of freedom and is shocked when the visions that have plagued him since childhood become reality. The three men embark on a voyage of discovery. No one has foreseen the day, however, when the arrival of a stranger threatens to destroy their bond.
Buy at Amazon




The Race
by Stephen Land with K.C. Wells
The Race is a story of one man’s triumph over sexual abuse and bullying, striving to find his own sexual identity. Growing up in an ultra conservative, religious family, Stephen aimed to pray the gay away before anyone could find out his secret. Stephen’s life became a constant battle, up to the point  here he couldn’t hold on any longer. A failed suicide attempt finally put life into perspective, and Stephen came out, not just as a gay man but as a survivor of sexual abuse.

A week in the hospital with too much time to think, resulted in flashbacks that plunged him back into his nightmarish childhood and adolescence. What began as Stephen’s attempt to exorcise his demons, ended up being a story of hope for others who have also suffered sexual abuse.

His message? No matter how much you stumble coming off the starting blocks, you can still win the race.


Buy at Amazon
You Always
by Melanie Jayne
Fifteen years ago the beautiful princess married her prince…

Today, Jasmine Benton appears to have the ideal life and yet, she wants more.

Her husband, Israel wouldn’t change a thing.

What happens when the perfect couple finds out that they aren’t so perfect? Can they trust in their love and learn to compromise or watch their marriage end?


Buy at Amazon


Love is Heartless
by Kim Fielding
Small but mighty—that could be Detective Nevin Ng’s motto. Now a dedicated member of the Portland Police Bureau, he didn’t let a tough start in life stop him from protecting those in need. He doesn’t take crap from anyone, and he doesn’t do relationships. Until he responds to the severe beating of a senior citizen and meets the victim’s wealthy, bow-tied landlord.


Property manager and developer Colin Westwood grew up with all the things Nevin never had, like plenty of money and a supportive, loving family. Too supportive, perhaps, since his childhood illness has left his parents unwilling to admit he’s a strong, grown man. Colin does do relationships, but they never work out. Now he’s thinking maybe he won’t just go with the flow. Maybe it’s time to try something more exciting. But being a witness to a terrible crime—or two—was more than he bargained for.


Despite their differences, Colin and Nevin discover that the sparks fly when they’re together. But sparks are short-lived, dampened by the advent of brutal crimes, and Colin and Nevin have seemingly little in common. The question is whether they have the heart to build something lasting.

Buy at DSP

Buy at Amazon

A Demonic Christmas 
by Phoenix Hell

It's the Christmas season in 2016 and Tevan has been on the outs with his own family. But he's been living with the local pack the Zodiac pack. While working he's called to come to his friends law firm to help his ex and his ex's boyfriend; he finds out that his ex and the current boyfriend is living in a haunted mansion.

The alpha of the Zodiac pack Alejandro reveals to Tevan that they are mates while they must deal with the fact they are mates and the supernatural demons that live in the mansion.

Tevan reveals that he's the protector of Milky Way, IL and could become a god if he so desired but he doesn't.

After defeating the demons, Alejandro decides that he and Tevan must marry, so that they can watch over the city. But do the Gods allow them to do so.

And who is the dark skinned man was walking along the road wearing a dark blue suit, and a royal purple cape. And what does he want with Tevan?

Buy at Amazon

Winter Duetby Anne Barwell
Germany 1944
Hunted for treason and the information Kristopher carries, he and Michel leave the security of their safe house to journey across Germany toward Switzerland. Caught in a series of Allied bombings, they stop to help civilians and narrowly escape capture by German forces.
While investigating a downed aircraft in the Black Forest, the two men discover an injured RAF pilot.  After they are separated, Kristopher and the pilot are discovered by a German officer who claims he is not who he appears to be. Determined to find Michel again, Kristopher has to trust the stranger and hope he is not connected to those searching for him and the information he carries. Meanwhile Michel is intercepted by one of the Allied soldiers he met in Berlin. His help is needed to save one of their own.
Time quickly runs out. Loyalties are tested and betrayed as the Gestapo closes in. Michel can only hope they can reach safety before information is revealed that could compromise not only his and Kristopher’s lives, but those of the remaining members of their team—if it is not already too late.

 Buy Link:
https://www.dsppublications.com/books/winter-duet-by-anne-barwell-339-b

The Virgin Manny and New Years Day!

The Virgin Manny

by Amy Lane
Growing up and falling in love...

Sometimes family is a blessing and a curse. When Tino Robbins is roped into helping his sister deliver her premade Italian dinners when he should be studying for finals, he’s pretty sure it’s the latter! But one delivery might change everything.

Channing Lowell’s charmed life changes when his sister dies and leaves him her seven-year-old son. He’s committed to doing what’s best for Sammy… but he’s going to need a lot of help. When Tino lands on his porch, Channing is determined to recruit him to Team Sammy.

Tino plans to make his education count—even if that means avoiding a relationship—but as he falls harder and harder for his boss, he starts to wonder: Does he have to leave his newly forged family behind in order to live his promising tomorrow?

Buy at Amazon

So, of course tomorrow is Kermit Flail, and you'll see this again, but I was blogging tonight anyway--and I thought I'd put it up there. *bats eyelashes* Cause it's out.  *bats them moar*  And you can buy it if you want. Just sayin'.  (By the way-- if you love the idea of a M/M Harlequin Presents style release, DSP offers a subscription to these particular books for both e-books and paperbacks-- THE LINK IS HERE. )

Anyway--

So, I was hanging out tonight, watching Troll Hunters on Netflix (btw-- this is a great animated show, both older kid friendly and entertaining for adults, created by Guillermo del Toro-- his love of fairy tales is writ large in every animated frame) when it occurred to me how much of your family time is just... ordinary and wonderful at the same time.

Of course, there was sort of a precursor to this thought.

See, I had purchased from yarn for Zoomboy, who wants his OWN epic hat of epicness. I let him pick out the colors--red, black, and blue-- and one of the skeins of yarn had ended up on the floor. I could tell because I felt it with my toe.

"Here, Squish--grab this," I said.

And then I fwooped it right over the couch.

Mate and I looked over the couch with big eyes.

"Did you just...?"

"Go fwoop and toss the yarn over the couch with my toes?"

"You did that."

I nodded. "Yeah. I did."

Mate put up both is hands. "GOAL!"

Also, last night, Mate and I had planned for just an ordinary quiet night at home. We were going to watch movies, let the little kids drink sparkling cider until their eyeballs floated, and then see Kathy Griffin flirt with Anderson Cooper until the ball dropped.

That is and is not what happened.

First, we took Alexa (my bio mom) out to lunch.  She gave the kids presents. Now I may have mentioned this before--she's extremely crazy. Mentally disturbed. Schizophrenic. Choose your euphemism.  Either way, you never know what she's going to say, and presents are extremely interesting.

Examples?

Last year, she gave the kids broken watches. They were thrilled.

When Chicken was 10, she got a Ken doll. She was puzzled.

One trip, after Big T had matured a bit, I was showing her pictures of the family in San Diego, visiting Chicken. She said, "That's nice honey, but who's this big scary dude in all the pictures?"

"That's Big T, your grandson, Mom-- he's sitting right behind you."

"AUGH!!!"

Once, when I noticed that her adult care home seemed to have adopted a cat, she said, "Oh, him honey? Yeah. He's my cat. He's a real motherfucker."

I could go on.

Anyway-- yesterday, she gave the kids sparklers for Christmas.

"And make sure you use matches on those, kids, cause lighters don't work at all. Did you hear that? Have your parents give you matches."

The kids thanked her delightedly, and after we dropped her off I told them, "We're not giving you matches."

"What should we do with the sparklers?"

"Save them for the 4th of July and grandma and grandpa's house."

"Okay."

Where, I assume, an adult with matches will light them.

So, after we dropped her off, we also dropped Mate and Squish off at light rail so they could go to the King's game, then ZoomBoy and I came home.

When we got here, the big kids were here.  They had ten loads of laundry to do, and no plans for New Years Eve at ALL.

So I took them shopping and when we got home, it was chicken night--but fried chicken night, cause, holiday style.

Mate and Squish got home and we watched a zillion movies--a lot of old favorites. And everybody drank carbonated apple juice until their eyeballs floated. And we put a dent in the COPIOUS amount of holiday sugar we had left. And we watched Anderson Cooper and the ball drop.  And the big kids did laundry.

And Mom was happy.

Because things like fwooping a ball of yarn and family jokes that only we'd understand and watching a movie like Brooklyn and going "Awwwww...." at the end-- that's stuff Mate and I do with our family.

And this year they got to all be--voluntarily, I might add--at home.

See You Next Year!

 So, the next time I chat with you all it will be New Years Day, and I'll be all about launching The Virgin Manny, and I hope you all love it!

But in the meantime, I thought I'd talk about what I did this year, and what you can expect from me next year, and what I'll be writing in the future.

This year, I re-released   Rampant 1 & 2, and The Green's Hill Anthology from The Little Goddess Series. Next year I'll be re-releasing the Jack and Teague stories-- the Green's Hill Werewolves, as well as Quickening-- both parts, which may or may not end the series, depending upon sales. (It's in a good place to end, if I can't write anymore, but I'd originally planned three more books.)

That was an accomplishment--and I am proud.

I also re-released Shirt and Phonebook as free stories on Amazon.com.  (And people proceeded to review these two adorable shorts like they were supposed to be full fledged novels, and the fact that they WERE shorts indicated I was an idiot who couldn't write a complete novel and didn't care about my craft. No, I'm not a little bitter. I'm BOGGLED is what I am. Seriously-- what part of "free short" escaped people's attention. Rant over.)  These two shorts were some of my first contemporary gay romance, right along with Gambling Men and If I Must, and they were a little like doing stretches before I tackled Keeping Promise Rock. 

Seeing them re-covered tickled me no end.

I finished the Candy Man series this year, with Lollipop in March and Tart and Sweet in August. These books, set on the streets of my hometown, and designed to showcase the amazing diversity here with affection and hope, made a lot of people happy. They weren't the angstiest things I've ever written--but I like to think I made them real. I hoped that people would read these books and see people of color as naturally in their imaginations as they appear in this little corner of the world, and the world would move a little tiny bit from "us and them" to "all of us."  Some people said I succeeded here, some people detailed them as a spectacular failure, but my intention--to make diversity a positive, inclusive thing--never wavered.

I hope they were also fun to read.

I wanted the same thing with Selfie, and, again, the results were mixed. But this book made book of the year at Grave Tells, and tied for 4th for best romance in the Rainbow Awards, and has shown up on two best-of lists today alone. I'm so grateful to the people who saw to the heart of what I wanted to do with these characters, and forgave me for my clumsy execution.

Again, these books make me proud.

I also launched two new series this year.

Fish Out of Water is the first book of my new mystery series, and while some folks were put off by the mix of mystery and romance some people really really enjoyed it. I loved writing this book, and the sequel, Red Fish, Dead Fish, is complete and has been submitted.

Winter Ball was technically released in 2015, but it was December 25th, 2015, so I'm going to claim it for 2016 (since so much that was crap happened in this year it needs some good things to its name!)

Winter Ball was honored a bit as well--it received a Rainbow Award for best romantic comedy, and a Reader's Choice at Grave Tells for best LGBTQ book, and Skip and Richie--who took people by surprise at first, for being raw and erotic and vulnerable and very very working class--I think eventually won over hearts.

The sequel to Winter Ball, Summer Lessons came out in November of this year. It was sort of a shitty time to release a book called Summer Lessons, and the release came only ten days after my Christmas book was released, so I think Mason and Terry's story was sort of overlooked. Understandable, but sort of a shame--this book was much like it's predecessor in that its highs and lows caught me by surprise, even on the fourth edit, even when I looked it over later to make sure it was a good book. I hope it catches a second wind, because I'm proud of these guys, and because book three, featuring Dane and Carpenter, is in my queue.

And of course, there was Freckles, which was sort of my end of the year surprise, and an obvious love letter to my dogs. For those of you who didn't see all the extras--and who like furry friends a lot--by all means check out the book page at Riptide and see the comic essays I wrote about the two furry assholes who dominate and illuminate the lives of everyone in my house.  Including the cats'.

And that brings me to next year.

Of course, I'm starting the year off with The Virgin Manny, which is a Dreamspun Desire, and the first book in a three-book series about nannies.

The second book, Manny Get Your Guy should be out in July, and the third book, Stand by Your Manny should be finished at the end March and out in January of 2018.

Next out will be Bonfires in March--I have the cover for this book, and it's SO PRETTY--but I'm going to debut it at Joyfully Jay's at the end of January, because I want it to be an event. This is the first book in a series of four, and I will be working on the second book sometime over the summer.

After Bonfires will be Quickening, parts 1 and 2, which will come out between March and July, probably about six weeks apart, as will The Green's Hill Werewolves, and then, all of the Little Goddess books will be out in print, beautiful and edited and hopefully glorious.  It took me four months in 2014 to write Quickening--I just finished the edits, and damn. Just damn. I hope it's as special to you as it was to me, and that the people who have been waiting for this book for over seven years will think the wait was worthwhile.

After Quickening and Stand by Your Manny will be Red Fish, Dead Fish, and after THAT will be the Dreamspun Beyond--again, the first in a trilogy--that I'm working on right now. The trilogy is the Familiar trilogy, and the first one is Familiar Angel, the second is Familiar Demon, and the third will be Familiar Lover. 

Now, a book that I've written but don't have a home for may be self-published around this time--it's called All the Rules of Heaven, and if it is published, it's the beginning of an urban fantasy series--so lots of fantasy out from me next year, or the year after, if I decided to hold onto Heaven for just a little while longer.

After Familiar Demon I hope to release the Johnnies book I will be working on during the spring, and the Christmas book I'll be working on after that!

And this year, I'll be releasing a collection of my "stray" Christmas stories-- Turkey in the Snow, Puppy, Car, and Snow, If I Must, Going Up, and Christmas With Danny Fit. (I think.)  It should be coming out around Christmas!

So, yeah.

Someone asked me how I did what I do--and my answer was "I write every day."

It's been sort of a tumultuous year--for everybody--and for a while, gay romance world was beset with scandal in the same way the gates of hell are beset with Cerberus, the snarling three-headed dog. There were times when poking my head out of my cave into the killing ground of social media was so not going to happen.

But I never stopped writing every day.

I never stopped believing that romance is the language of hope, and that writing it was actively doing something to make people happy, to give people hope.

I never stopped striving to write the best story I could write, to give the readers I'm so grateful to the best story they could possibly let into their hearts.

I saw a meme the other day-- it said, "Get knocked down seven times, get up eight."  For me, I get knocked down, and I write, and that's how I get up again.  And again. And again.

As we move out of this tumultuous, scary year into an uncertain future, let's remember all the times we got back up again. Let's remember our hope and our intentions for a better world--and improve upon them.  Let's remember that kindness and tolerance and gentleness are virtues--and that the strong wield them with grace.

And let's be proud of our accomplishments, because I know I'm not the only one who got knocked down seven times, and got up eight.

Let's meet the coming year with courage and conviction and hope.

We're romance readers and writers--that's just how we roll.

The Heartbeat of Literature

Booklandia has been a bit perturbed in the last couple of days, but instead of talking about that, I thought I'd talk about my release on January 1st instead.

The Virgin Manny IS out in the next couple days, and it's one of the Dreamspun Desires line.

Now, I love this idea--I've talked about how excited I was that Dreamspinner Press was doing a Harlequin Presents-style imprint before. I've talked about how I used to get a box of these books (well, Harlequin Temptations) every month when Mate and I could afford very little in the way of entertainment, and one Christmas, when we didn't have enough money left to buy presents for each other, I wrapped up a bag of socks for him, and my box of Harlequin Temptations for myself, so the kids would know Santa got mommies and daddies too.

Now writing a category romance isn't as easy as it sounds.  The restrictions put on authors are actually sort of stringent--after all of the freedom gay romance authors have experienced to date, why would we limit ourselves?

Suddenly our sex scenes--in which the sky was the limit--have to be more steam than sex. The language--and we all know I love to swear--needs to be toned down. The length--and I'm the queen of the long book here--can be no longer than 65K. And the subject matter--and remember, I can get pretty dark--must be tropey and happy and a guaranteed, undeniable happy ever after.

So, you're probably asking, why? Why would we want to try to write something that is obviously not a genre requirement?

The answer is, "We loved the way these books made us feel."  Those four category romances I wrapped up for myself that Christmas--that was the only reading I was going to get. I didn't have time for the library and that was 21 years ago--e-books weren't around.

Why would I spend my entertainment budget on $12 (at the time) of pulp fiction books when I had a degree in English Literature that actually transcended a BA and was almost a standalone MA?

Because I needed the goddamned happy.

These books are guaranteed goddamned happy.

The tropes are familiar--just like our favorite movies--and the highs aren't frightening and the lows can be overcome. I knew when I unwrapped that Christmas present that I would love exactly what I found inside, whether it was the virgin heroine, the boy next door, or the powerful businessman seduced by his feisty secretary. I knew that the sex wouldn't squick me out, that I wouldn't have to confront moral ambiguities, and that when the last page turned, I would be left sliding down the lovely high that the book had given me, ready to hope for a better world--and a more secure life--once more.

When I taught students the "heartbeat of literature"-- Frei's pyramid, exposition, conflict, rising action, crisis, climax, denouement-- I wasn't thinking about To Kill a Mockingbird when I told them how a good book functioned.  I was thinking about the category romance I'd just read. These books follow every rule--and following the rules gives the reader a guaranteed experience, every time.

Now, I know I've given my readers a lot of surprises in the past. For the record, I don't plan to stop doing that. Bonfires is coming after this--it ends on a continuing story note. People will hate it--I'm breaking a rule. Quickening Part 1 & 2 are coming out--I've got a pregnant heroine making tough decisions about what to do with her body and her pregnancy. She is not going to behave as expected, and it's going to piss people off. I'm breaking rules. Red Fish, Dead Fish is coming out this year--I pissed people off with the first one. This one's no different. All the Rules of Heaven, the next Johnnies--I've got a big list of stuff coming out in which I broke any damned narrative rule of romance that I pleased.

But not with my Dreamspun Desires.

Because breaking those rules is not what these books are for. These books are to comfort us with their adherence to narrative. They're to give us an expected high and a beautiful endorphin rush.

They're supposed to make us crave the next one, because we know what we're going to get with that one too.

Now, that doesn't mean there's not a wee bit of controversy going on here--although there shouldn't be, and I do plan to rant about misogyny in gay romance-landia sometime soon.

But not now.

Now I'm going to get excited that my first book in my Mannies series is coming out, and I'm going to tell you that the second in the series is out in early July. And I'm going to invite you into the happy, warm, beautiful world of category romance, where we bottle hope and sell it at 40-60K words per small pulp-papered novel.

Bring your lazy afternoon and your suspension of disbelief, and prepare for that endorphin rush that will leave you satisfied and yet still wanting more.

There are more--definitely more--to follow.

Newt Dewey

Well, the world lost another one today.

When I was nine years old, my uncle beat the crap out of me. We'd been wrestling and he was winning (because he was nineteen) and as I knelt at his feet, my hands behind my back, I spit on him.

And he lost it, cause, well, gross.

But the point was, I was trying to be Princess Leia. Cause she didn't take shit from no one, and she never admitted defeat.

I'm sorry I don't know who took the picture to the left--it was captured from Twitter and put online and I'd give credit if I could.  I know that Tee-Spring used to sell the T-shirts and the big sticker, and they're trying for a reboot.

It's just that Carrie Fisher represented something amazing. She was beautiful, and tiny, and she got to fire a laser blaster and ride the super zoom cycle.  In real life she was blunt, she was funny, and she was fearless.

She had no problem admitting her helpless love for her dog, and she faced everything from drug addiction to bipolar with a "Fuck this imperialist bullshit" smile and a zero-fucks-to-give attitude.

I loved her, as much for her off-screen advocacy as for her onscreen persona.

Yeah-- this year has sucked. A lot of celebrities have just bailed off this fucking mortal coil--but this was the one that made me throw my hands in the air and cry.  (Okay, Bowie too. And Rickman. And Prince. And George Michael. And fuck me, this fuckin' year.)

My friend Julie and I were rabid Star Wars fans--I'm pretty sure we saw the third movie together, and if we didn't, well, we should have. We were on Facebook together when the news broke, and for a moment the years fell away, and we were the geeky high school students who wanted to be Princess Leia.

I was the embattled nine year old who thought I already was.

Carrie, I know you're out there because this death thing is bullshit as far as you're concerned and you've got people to look after. You don't know me from a bright spot in the night, but I miss you in this world. So do a lot of people. You did so much good, you'll never know.

*sigh*

Okay, some happy now.

The big kids got cats in December. Big T got a black cat that he named Kiarostami after his favorite director, and Chicken got Dewey, that she named after the youngest (second youngest by the end of the show) boy in Malcolm in the Middle.

Anyway--Chicken's OTHER cat, Mrs. Poopy Bottom kept beating the hell out of poor Dewey, so both kids made Dewey their Christmas present to ZoomBoy.

ZoomBoy loves him--and he plays like no kitten I've ever had. He's also one of those cats who loses all body coherence once you pick him up--it's AMAZING.

But I keep forgetting to call him Dewey. For one thing, my friend has a cat named Dewey, and this cat looks nothing like him.

For another, my OTHER friend USED to have a cat named NEWT. And this cat looks EXACTLY like Newt. Now, Newt was named after the character in Aliens 2, the little girl who didn't talk, and this cat is very silent too.  But the kids want his name to be Dewey.

So I call him Newt Dewey--because it rhymes, and it's cute, and I can't remember to say Dewey until after I say Newt.

And he really does have a sweet little angel baby face.

And he's a welcome addition to the fur-baby family.

The White Elephant Exchange

Okay-- I always suck at this.

My family's white elephant exchange is this weird little dance between the practical and the practical joke, and for the longest time it was the hardest part of my year.  The trick is to buy something that is both awful and wonderful at the same time. It shouldn't be a serious thing--but it shouldn't be something completely useless either. For a couple of years my younger kids were forbidden from participating. A. They always WANTED THE THING they opened with all their hearts, and B. Their gifts were so impractical as to render them unfunny. This was a mandate passed down by my parents, and I'm thinking, "Gees... tough crowd."  Anyway, you guys get the idea.

This is a family tradition that we take seriously-- the idea is to deliver something hilarious that people enjoy using.

Did I mention I suck at it?

One year I bought bath stuff from Bath and Body Works.

One year, it was a homemade scarf.

Neither of which are particularly funny.

And in the meantime, my family was kicking ass. The slippers made of maxi-pads with ten dollar bills folded into bows across the top--THAT was funny. The copy of that one Jim Carrey movie that nobody watched--THAT was funny. The little desk basketball game--THAT was hilarious.

I sucked at this game.

But this year... this year, I did okay.

This year, as we were shopping at Spencer's, I got an idea.  "Hey, how about one of those fuzzy blankets--one of the ones with the super specialized fandoms on them? See--nobody will know the fandom, so ha-ha, but it's a BLANKET, so it's PRACTICAL."

Mate was on board. He got one too.

And it's true--the blankets were in high demand, and both of them were stolen often as the game progressed. However, our daughters were stealing them from each other. There may have been blood spilled. Both of them were full of bitter recrimination too--"How could you guys NOT BUY THESE FOR US FOR REAL?"

Mate and I laughed a lot, but at the end I said, "You know what? We picked the wrong fandoms. We should have picked Suicide Squad. Nobody wants that shit right?"

He nodded. "Yeah-- that would have been best."

So, while this year, I did not epically FAIL at the White Elephant gift exchange, mine was still not the best.

No, the best went to Big T--whose white elephant gift was both practical and funny.

He wrapped up a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly in a box, and to his cousins and his sister? He was a comic god.

I will NEVER get the hang of this game.
 

Sweaters and Novels

I have a couple of confessions to make.

The first of which is that I'm not a very good knitter.

Nice people will protest-- people who have received my knitting as gifts will protest the loudest-- but the fact is, when Rance from Winter Courtship Rituals of Fur Bearing Critters said, "My knitting is simple," those were my words. In the stories, Jeremy Bunny is the one who knits the cables and the lace, who tries the new techniques and the spiffy sweater construction. Jeremy teaches himself to become a master knitter--and I wish I could be like him, but I'm not. And that leads me to the second confession which is--

I have more knitting pattern books and magazines than should be allowed by law.

Now, some of them I have used and have followed the techniques and actually produced a thing of value that even looked like the picture.

But nobody can knit ALL THE THINGS. Nobody. Even if I just knit ONE from every pattern book--well, I wouldn't have time to write, sleep, eat, or parent. And my hands would be falling off at the wrist.

So I do what a lot of people do.  I study the items in the books and magazines, and think, "How is that made? How IS that made? HOW is that made?"  And then I get it all fixed in my head.    

And then I lose the pattern book, and dammit, who has time to find one book in at least a thousand and that leads me to the next flaw in my knitting.

I hate reading patterns. 

I mean I can read patterns, and I have proof on this very blog that I frequently make things that do require patterns. I've helped other people read patterns, and I'm actually not bad at it.

I just don't like doing it myself.

Which is another reason I'm not a very good knitter.

Because--and this is my final confession--I LOVE to deconstruct an item and try to figure out what the pattern was just by casting on.

Mate calls this "Use the Force" knitting, and I have to admit-- this phrase tickles me more than it probably should--but it's true.

I think, "I want a raglan sweater and I want it about this big and I want it to use up all my scraps."

And then I cast on.

And I've done that twice, and they've both been sweaters for Squishie that are both HUGE (because I never remember where to pit -- and yes, I use that as a verb, meaning, "To stop increasing the yoke of the sweater and make the damned armpit"-- and highly colorful.

Although, I have to admit, she picked out the colors of this last one herself.

So this sweater I just finished (and that desperately needs blocking it possibly will never get, because Squishie wants to wear it tomorrow on the last day before Christmas) was a product of me casting on random yarns and going, "I think what I do is... THIS."

And then making it so.

I cannot explain to you what it means to me when that sort of thing pans out.      

For example, the dragon scale mittens-- everyone remember those? Yup. That's how I made them. That's how I developed my hat pattern and the Stanley Scarf pattern and pretty much every pattern I've every written.

"I want a thing that does THIS."

I'm just lucky people will wear the thing that does that thing-- it's been a blessing, really.

And, honestly, the same thing goes for writing.

I know some people outline.

Some people study and structure.

Some people look at bestsellers and make notes of what they do.

I sit down and say, "I want a thing that does THIS."

Now, when Squishie was picking out colors for her sweater, no amount of, "But, uhm, do you really want neon sleeves with a pastel body?" could make her change her mind.

And often, no amount of someone telling ME that, say, killing off both the leads doesn't make for a happy reader, can make ME change MY mind.

And I know the difference-- the books that are more written to pattern sell well, so I try to do more of those.

But every now and then, I have to pick up my word processor and my barely functioning squirrel brain, and say, "I want a thing that does THIS."

And then, whether it sells or not, I can be inordinately proud of this thing I made without a pattern that does the thing it's supposed to.

But I need to be aware that just like the sweater, that piece of writing is very much to the taste of the individual, and not necessarily the world.

Anyway-- now that I've made THAT deep realization, a few things have occurred to me.

One is that I have not yet shared the wrap that my friend Karen Rose made me, to help replace the one Mate put in the drier last year-- so here's that, and my EXTREME happiness can probably be seen through the squint against the sun.

The other is that Christmas and Hanukkah will have happened when I'm taking my blog break, so I should DEFINITELY wish happy holidays to everyone.

May your knitting and baking and wrapping get done, and may your family have moments of happiness and peace. May you all enjoy the blessings of each other in good health, and may you get safely wherever your travels take you. May you experience a moment of profound gratitude for blessings, and a moment of extreme hope to assuage your fears. May the coming year bring healing to your wounds, be they emotional, spiritual, political, or material.

May you endeavor to do good in the world, and may your heart grow stronger thus.

And on that note, I'll leave you with a picture of Squish singing (or in this case, frowning, because she didn't feel well) with her choir.

They were singing "Love thy neighbor as thyself," in rounds.  It was lovely.

*yawn*

Okay-- so, we're down to piles and fudge.

I know that doesn't sound exciting, but "piles" is where we sort all of the presents and see how much stuff our kids actually have. Because when you're throwing it in the cart and trying to keep track of everybody it either A. Feels like way too much and you are afraid you'll get evicted or starve because the kids needed one more useless piece of plastic or B. it feels like you got way too little and the kid will feel as though he or she has failed the world at large and now you are forever responsible for ruining Christmas.

Ugh.

I have fucked up at Christmas once or twice.

Not HUGE amounts of times.

I never blew all the Christmas money on horses or forgot about the kids on Christmas Eve while I went into a bar and got drunk-- nothing that bad.

But one year Big T got all clothes while everybody else got toys. We didn't know what to get him--clothes and Legos were the only things on his list, and Santa is sometimes too overwhelmed for imagination. I don't know what to tell you.

There were a lot of tears.

One year, we forgot stocking stuffers. The kids ended up with stale gummi bears from the gas station--and M&M's, let's not forget those!--because that's all that was open on Christmas Eve.  I mean, there were other presents--good ones, even, I think that was the year we got our first game system--but yeah. I failed.

So this year, three days before Christmas, we're at a point where I can eyeball all the presents and see if we slighted anyone or of someone was forgotten or if the stocking stuffers sucked (and yes, that does sound dirty when you say it fast) and we can see if there was something we can fix.

Friday is candy making, Saturday is housecleaning and cooking and A Christmas Story and Sunday is my parents' house.

And the whole time is a terrible fear--a sort of inescapable fear--that somewhere out there, we have failed.

I have to tell you that one of my favorite moments of any Christmas is the actual night of Christmas. We all come home, put on our jammies, and fall asleep in front of Die Hard or Love Actually.

Because for better or worse, for failure or success, by then we know we've done our best and not worry about it anymore.

Until the next day, when we try to make every day of Christmas vacation count.

Kids wonder why parents always seem so tired.  I think it's the tightrope act of simultaneous fear and hope that we're not fucking up spectacularly.

Christmas night is when we can relax. Even if we fucked up, we get another year to make things right.