Pia Veleno's Blog: piaveleno.com, page 6
July 15, 2013
Winners!
My apologies for the late announcement, but I took a much needed and sorely unplanned weekend off from the computer.
As for the raffle, I’m surprised at how few entries I received. Okay, so I haven’t been the best self-promoter, and I haven’t published anything in the past year, but still… FREE.
Ah, never mind, it’s okay with me. It’s something I’ll work on as time permits.
Anyway, given the turnout, those that did drop by mean all that much more to me. All three of you are winners! Yep, that’s right. I’m giving a copy of Hounded By Love to all three of you. Congratulations to Antonia, Gigi, and Cynthia!
Dear ladies, please email me your format choice at piathewriter@gmail.com (All standard ebook formats are available, and I may have a paperback copy too, assuming shipping isn’t a crazy customs circus or a million dollar bill.)
In the meantime, dear Readers, don’t forget to check out the charity auction: Shut the Book on Child Abuse.
July 7, 2013
Giveaway, WiPs, and a Cause
(Cross posted at Slash & Burn)
Finally, a writing update. It seems like it’s been forever since I told myself it was time to refocus on a new story. Usually, the day job slows down before July, and here we are with July well on its way, and I’ve still not seen that free time at the office.
But that’s neither here nor there. I’ve managed to leave work at work more often lately, and have news of two new works in progress. Yay!
First, I’m working on a new light and fun contemporary M/M. I’m not ready to reveal more, because these two men are being stubborn and making me work hard to drag a story out of them.
The second project is a deviation from my norm. At the encouragement of the lovely Dorothy Shaw, I’ve been writing a M/F paranormal story with her. Dorothy’s first M/F erotic romance is due out in August, and can be pre-ordered HERE for only 99 cents.
To celebrate finally rediscovering my muse, I’m giving away a copy of my last book, Hounded By Love from Loose Id. Leave a comment to enter, and then check back here next Sunday to see if you’ve won. As usual, you must return to claim your prize, and choose your format, including, potentially, paperback.
June 26, 2013
Shut the Book on Child Abuse
Make a note on your calendar for July. A Twitter friend of mine is running an auction to raise money for two organizations that fight child abuse. Up for grabs will be a bunch of signed books in a variety of categories, including a signed paperback of Hounded By Love.
I’ll post again when the time grows closer, but earmark some of your book budget for July to bid at this auction. If you’d like to learn more about the charities benefiting from the auction, click the logo above.
June 16, 2013
Hunger Games: Like a Marathoner
I wrote this post on Marathon Monday, but then I took it down after a bomb shattered what has always been an amazing event. It still was — amazing, that is — but for a different reason. Boston natives, runners and their family and friends, and the entire country banded together in the face of tragedy to show that we, as a people, are stronger than one or two dissenters. We are Boston Strong.
(Reposted in its entirety.)
Today is Marathon Monday, the annual running of the Boston Marathon. Oh, no, I’m not going to advocate a marathon as part of our Hunger series. I’m a runner and I think 26 miles is insane. Yet, tens of thousands of people run every year, not to mention all the other marathons across the US, and internationally.
Why do they do this? In one word, passion. Marathoners are passionate about running. Not just running, but long-distance, physically-exhausting running. I can support this. I may not have any interest in running that many miles in one try, but I am passionate about running. It’s not something I’ve ever been able to explain to non-runners successfully, but it’s there. The endorphin high, the comfort of tired, well-worked muscles, the wind in my face, the sweat in my cleavage, the rhythmic strides, each foot hitting the road/trail briefly to bounce back up and propel me forward, all of my own volition, all through my own power.
Get it? It’s okay if you don’t. The theme to this post isn’t to convince you to run. It’s to guide you into finding the exercise that inspires the same passion. Maybe for you it’s swimming, or biking, or belly dancing. If you dread your daily visit to the gym, you’re going to find excuses not to go, and/or you’re not going to work as hard and efficiently as you would if you enjoyed the routine.
I truly believe that if you find that activity (or activities) that you enjoy with the passion of a marathoner, you’ll look forward to the exercise instead of dreading it.
Don’t just go through the motions. Love what you do.
Healing energy to all the victims, their families, and their friends, and everyone who watched with pain in their hearts as the events of day unfolded. If you haven’t already, please consider donating to The One Fund to help those affected by this tragedy, and if you have, Thank You.
Learn more about The One Fund here: https://secure.onefundboston.org/
June 2, 2013
HAHAT wrap up
Thank you to everyone who participated in the Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia – bloggers and readers and commenters alike.
Without further ado, I’ll draw a winner for a selection of his or her choice from my backlist…
Congratulations Wendy!
Wendy, please email me at piathewriter@gmail.com with your preferred format and title.
I wrote a blog on my thoughts during HAHAT over at Slash & Burn. Click HERE to visit.
May 16, 2013
My Girlfriend Vy
If your friend told you he was trans, what would you say? How would you react?
Most of us can easily say that we’d be okay with it (hey, it’s the GLBTQ community participating in this blog hop, plus those reading my backlist after all) but it’s one thing to enjoy hot gay sex between the pages, and watch characters like my beloved Ash come out as trans to his friends, and an entirely different thing to experience it first hand with a living, breathing human being.
Three years ago, I experienced just that.
Three years ago, Vy (yes, the same Vy I dedicated Change of Skin to earlier this week) was just Al. He was just one of the guys that my husband had brought home to game together in our basement. Now, she’s my best friend, and most days, more girl than I’ll ever be.
Her journey is far from completed. There are still a few people who don’t know what she’s going through, and there are a couple that aren’t coping well with the announcement that she’s transgender. Overall, however, she has some wonderfully supportive people in her life to more than make up for the couple of small-minded blinder-wearing acquaintances.
As we sat in my living room sipping apple ice wine last Friday, we talked – as we often do when we’re alone together – of her journey. One friend curses himself out when he accidentally says “dude” or “man” even though Vy doesn’t mind. Another doesn’t want Vy “exposed” to her kids. As Vy tries to stay positive about the latter (and positively glows over the support of the former) I study her. Her cheeks are sharper, her hair shiny and curly. She’s painted her toes, and she tells me about the cream she’s found for her cuticles. She complains about the pains of growing breasts, while I tell her it’s time she bought a pretty lace bra. But most of all, she’s happy. Though she still has to face the challenge of revealing her truth to a few important people, she’s improved her life by sharing what had always been – until a couple of years ago – a shameful secret. She’s shedding her male mask and stepping into her female skin. Damn soft and smooth skin, too, not that I’m jealous at all. I can’t be. Not when she’s finally becoming who she wants – no, needs – to be.
May 17th is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia, and while I write this for the Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia, I also write this for the person who – once I truly met her – has become my best girlfriend. Each and every time Vy musters the courage to tell someone she’s transgender, she’s full of fear and uncertainty. She’s received a ton of support, and yet, the hatred, the confusion, the close-minded ignorance is still out there. She’s faced it. She’s felt it. When she tells me of these conversations, I want to scream. I want to run over to that hateful person and spray paint my distaste on their walls. I’d say this: She’s still the same person you became friends with, but now you know more of her.
I’m not that agile with a paint can, so instead I’m there for her. Often I don’t need to say a word. Just listen. She knows I don’t judge, and she knows I do my best to understand. Of course I do. Any one of you would do the same for your best girl.
Let me know how you address homo- and transphobia. Are you the supportive shoulder to lean on? Are you the activist, lobbying for anti-discrimination laws? What do you do to help the Vy’s of your life?
Tell me about one of your experiences, and I’ll draw a name at the end of the hop to win a book off my back list. Check back here June 1st to claim your prize. In the meantime keep up the good fight, and stand up for your gay and trans friends whenever possible.
With love to all my gay, straight, bi, trans, and cis friends.
~Pia
PS Click the badge for a list of other Hoppers. Each one has something to say about these disappointing phobias, and each one is giving away a prize to thank you for reading.
May 15, 2013
May 11, 2013
Change of Skin (Quoting Fiction)
It’s time for me to share another free flash story with you, dear Readers. This one was inspired by a song that is a must have on my workout playlist, by a band I absolutely adore: Kitty Litter, by Placebo.
“I need a change / I need a change of skin.”
Lucas sat on his bed, his hands on his thighs, his feet flat on the floor, and his gaze focused entirely on the closed bedroom door. He had a bag packed, but he refused to remove it from its hiding place beneath the bed. He wouldn’t need it.
Doubt crept into his thoughts. Maybe he would. Maybe if he didn’t take it out now — hold it in his hands, ready to run – he wouldn’t have a chance to stoop down and grab it before all hell broke loose.
No. Damn it, Lucas. Have faith. He’s a smart man. Even if he doesn’t understand at first, he won’t hate you. He can’t.
Can he?
Lucas squeezed his thighs, digging fingers in to keep from chewing his nails. There wasn’t much left to them to chew, and his cuticles hurt from the gnawing, yet he couldn’t stop his hand from drifting to his lips, catching his ring finger between his teeth.
No. Stupid nervous habit.
He slammed his palm down on his leg, and then rubbed the spot he hit too hard. “It’ll all work out,” he whispered to the empty room. He repeated it, like a mantra, weaving a spell of confidence in the man pacing the living room a flight of stairs away. Now that the truth was out there, it had to work out. Lucas hated the lying, the hiding, the pretending. He had had to put an end to it… and he did. One way or another, his life was about to change. And drastically.
Lucas nearly jumped out of his skin when a knock sounded at the door. He didn’t have time to respond, to force his mouth to form the words ‘come in’, before the door swung open and a formidable man stood just outside looking very, very uneasy.
Never one to use silence to his benefit – unable to, really — Lucas blurted out, “Dad, I’m sorry–”
His father silenced his words with a single raised hand.
Patience. Let him speak.
At least it wasn’t fisted, Lucas thought. He immediately blushed, and averted his gaze. His dad had never hit him. It may have been a shock, but even with this truth, Lucas didn’t truly believe his life was in danger. He only hoped his dad would understand.
Please understand.
“I’ve been turning this over in my head all morning,” his dad said, “and I just don’t understand.”
Lucas’s heart fell; his stomach became a churning void. He opened his mouth to fight for what he wanted – no, needed – but he had no more words. He’d had his say… and he’d failed.
“I’m trying to understand, Karen, I really am.”
“Lucas,” Lucas said softly. He glanced up, frowned at the puzzled look on his father’s face, and then explained. “I prefer Lucas, dad. Karen was someone I could never be.”
“A therapist,” dad suggested. “I’ll go with you too. Whatever you need.”
“Yes, dad, that would be good for us both. But not to fix me. Please don’t try to fix me. I found one up in Bow who is transgender herself. I’d like to make an appointment to meet with her. Our insurance would cover most of it.”
“You’ve done your research.” He still sounded uncertain and confused, but not angry, not fighting, not quite denying… much.
Lucas tried a small, brief smile. “Yeah, just like you always taught me. I had to be sure, but dad…” He raised a finger to his lips, but before his teeth could close on the ragged nail nibbled down to the quick, he lowered his hand, forcing courage to the surface. “I’ve always known. I’ve never been comfortable in dresses.” Lucas laughed. His best friend, and private moral support to the decision to come out was a guy who was perfectly happy in a dress. “I always knew,” he whispered almost reverently. “I wanted to play with the boys all the time. I stole their boy toys. I melted the head off my Barbi on purpose. I… If I could go to the prom, I’d wear a three-piece suit and a fedora.”
“A boy,” dad said, as if still not sure he’d heard any of it correctly.
“Yes, dad.”
“A boy who’s stuck back a few decades.” His dad smiled. “No one wears three-piece suits if they don’t have to. Hell, I only wear a tie because my boss somehow believes that a tie symbolizes a hard working day.”
His dad chuckled. A real one, not a forced, trying to cope sound. Then his expression sobered, and with a stoic, serious gaze, he fixed an intimidating stare on Lucas. “So this isn’t a maybe, huh? Not just something you stumbled across online, or wondered about?”
Lucas held his dad’s gaze, willing him to understand, to accept his answer. “No. I’ve always known I wasn’t normal. I didn’t know the term for it right away, but I figured it out even before I learned there were others like me. Stuck.” He sucked in a breath. Only temporarily stuck; if he wanted, if he was brave enough, he could get fixed.
Dad nodded. “I’m trying to understand.”
“I can’t ask for anything more.” Lucas’s voice broke. His eyes itched. Boys didn’t cry, damn it. He wouldn’t.
His rocky emotions forgotten, he stood as his dad strode quickly across the room. A heartbeat of fear appeared and then dissipated in the span of a half a second as his dad wrapped big, strong arms around Lucas and pulled him close. He felt his father’s tears, though the man made no sounds at all.
He returned the embrace and, after several silent but damp seconds, whispered, “Dad?”
“L-Lucas, is it?” Lucas nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you felt so alone and different.”
It was Lucas’s turn to be confused. Sorry? This wasn’t his fault. “I was afraid to tell you.”
“You shouldn’t. Never be afraid to tell me if something is upsetting you. You’re my dau—“ He took a deep breath, and then stood back, not retreating, but only to look down at Lucas. “You’re my son, and I love you. No matter what. Give me some time to figure all of this out, but I will. I’ll find a way to understand.”
That was all Lucas needed to hear. His own tears spilled down his cheeks. “Thank you dad. That’s all I need right now.”
“And we’ll visit your therapist.”
“Together?”
Dad nodded. Lucas smiled. The last remnants of faked girl within him died. Lucas was reborn. His body still didn’t fit, but his family did, and the rest they’d work on together.
~~ For Vy. Love you, girlfriend.
May 1, 2013
Hunger: Sideshow
I have a couple of new Hunger posts sketched out, but this article caught my attention today. Take a gander, and don’t forget to check out the variety of opinions in the comments section.
What are your thoughts, dear Readers?
“Sneaky sugar: We’re eating too much and we don’t even know it”
