Lisa Henry's Blog, page 18

IOC, Your Cowardice Is Showing

In news today, the Australian media is speculating as to whether gay Australian Olympians could be arrested at the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia, because of Putin's extraordinary anti-gay laws. But of course, it's not just gay people who can be detained for up to fourteen days under these laws, it's anyone who might be suspected as being pro-gay. I'm not sure what pro-gay means, but I have a feeling anyone reading this post is guilty of it. And anyone writing it. 

* crosses Russia off list of places to travel* 



Australian Olympic Committee spokesman Mike Tancred said this: "Under the IOC charter, discrimination of any kind is strictly forbidden. I am sure the IOC values will prevail."
Really, Mike? Really? 
Well, that's reassuring. Everyone happy to go now?
You see, I like the ideals of the Olympics. All about striving for the best, and what humanity can do blah blah blah, but it’s hard to take the IOC seriously when, really, you know they’re just a bunch of old men who travel the world for free, and get wined and dined and seduced by countries who, for some reason, think that spending a gazillion dollars on a sporting event is a good idea.
But overlooking blatant abuses of human rights? That’s a whole other level.
You can promote yourself as non-political all you like, except for two things. Firstly, IOC, didn't you boycott South Africa during the apartheid era for shit like this? 
And secondly, turning a blind eye to human rights abuses isn’t being non-political. It’s being an accomplice.
For those of us who don’t want to play that game, there is always Amnesty International. 

Me, JA Rock, and the Culture Wars

Australian English is my default setting. 
It's kind of like UK English, but a bit more laid back. A bit rougher around the edges. A bit "she'll be right." 
My publishers so far have been in the US, and that's where I run into problems. And it's not always the obvious stuff that trips me up. The theaters and the colors and the centers. I've even been able to use the word "mom" without laughing recently, and believe me, that's progress. 
It's the trickier things. Did you know that in America, people don't go forwards or backwards or towards? No, they go forward, and backward and toward. Crazy stuff. 


Oh, American English, why are you so different? We both come from the same parent, right? We both come from UK English, except Australian English is like the kid who turned out okay, and American English is like the one who smokes cigarettes, drops out of school, and rides a motorbike. Which is not as cool as it thinks, given that it should have grown up by now. 
I am getting better at using American English. "Realize" will always be my bugbear though. Or, if you like, my drop bear. 
But I'm pleased to announce that JA Rock and I have finally managed to stop sniping at each other over our different types of English, and moved on to the bigger cultural misunderstandings. 
Here are some comments from our current WIP. All sparked by the moment where our Aussie character is having difficulty coming to terms with his move to America. Which gave JA and I the chance to recycle all of our old arguments about flat white coffees (they are a thing), driving on the wrong side of the road, and whether it's "math" or "maths". It's "maths", BTW. The line from the WIP is:  Seriously, how this country had won a world war was beyond Mark.
And here are the comments:
LH: It was because you turned up late both times and everyone else was already tired!
JA: We thought everyone else was just joking when they said they needed help. Like when you see your friend out in the ocean flailing and shouting, and you're just like, "Oh, Dave. What a card." And then you realize that he's caught in the undertow.
LH: And then it happened again and America was all like, "Jesus, Dave, stay out of the fucking water, all right?"
JA: "Seriously! Dave, we won't always be around to bail you out."
LH: "Dave? Where's Dave? Has anyone seen Dave? Oh...oh my god, he's in the ocean again!"
JA: "No, stay back, Don't go in after him. He's never gonna learn for himself if we keep rescuing his ass every time it starts drowning."
So there you have it, guys. A brief history of the major military conflicts of the twentieth century, as interpreted by us.
And possibly a very scary insight into how both our minds work.

Holiday Success

I am home. 

My feet hurt. 

I have consumed more cider in the past week than is medically recommended.

Also, wine. 

I saw penguins. And meerkats. AND A LION! 

I now want penguins. And meerkats. And a lion. 

My dog is snoring on my floor. My cats are refusing to speak to me. 


So, you're back. I loathe you. Now feed me. 
My dining room table is full of stuff I've unpacked from my suitcase, but not got any further. 

Did I really need to buy that many books? Yes. 

Did I really need to buy that many random things? Apparently. 

I am back to the day job tomorrow. 

I am also back to writing and editing. Yay! 

Holiday: success! 

Melbourne

Melbourne is so pretty. Even in winter. It's cold, but no too cold. The only penguins I've seen were behind glass at the aquarium, not swimming up the Yarra, so it's not too bad. Mind you, I'm from the tropics, so I start to panic if I have to put socks on. 
And now I'm up to the part of the holiday I've (not so secretly) been looking forward to. My family, Travel Group One, had headed home because of work and school and suchlike, and I have two days before my mad drunken friends, Travel Group Two, arrive. 
So it's time to buy some nice wine, put on some music, and get some writing done. 
And, oh yeah, that novel set in Melbourne in the 1920s...that plot bunny is back, and it's refusing to be ignored. 
Source: Travel VictoriaBecause hot boys. Because of the fashion. Because Melbourne Gaol. Because The Windsor Hotel. Because Chinatown. Because opium dens and the White Australia policy and racism. Because I haven't written anything with a clash of cultures before. Because historical.
But mostly the hot boys. 

Holidays!

Writers don't get days off. Seriously. 
But don't take this as a cry for help or a cheap ploy for sympathy, because I wouldn't have it any other way. Because everything -- EVERYTHING -- is grist for the mill. Or chaff in the wind. Or something. 
Anyway, I'm about to head off for three weeks in Victoria. Why the rest of the family has chosen winter as the season to meet up there, I have no idea. Because it's going to be cold. 
Fucking cold. 
And as someone who hasn't done cold in a long time, I'm alternating between "Oh, it won't be that bad" and "God help me, I'm going to die." 
But of everything we're doing in the next three weeks, here's what I'm looking forward to the most: 


Sovereign Hill. And no, not for the old-timey sepia photographs I'm sure I'll be forced into, but for the Gold Museum. Seriously, because I'm working on a historical at the moment that could really use a bit more research in that direction. Okay, so my story is set twenty years after the heyday of Sovereign Hill, and in Wyoming, but you can bet I'll learn something important about gold mining in any case. And if they've got a butcher's shop, even better. 
Note to self: stop giving your characters jobs you know nothing about just because "Oh, it surely can't be that complicated." 
A holiday? Hell no, this is an extensive research trip with some shopping, sightseeing and probably frostbite thrown in. 

My LHNB story is out: Falling Away

My Love Has No Boundaries story is here! 


You can find Falling Away over at Goodreads (you must be a member of the MM Romance Group), or over on the MM Romance Group site, where it will soon be available to download. 
Here is another look at my picture prompt because...hello! 

Why yes, I will tie you up and do nasty things to you, since you begged so nicely. 
And you should all get onboard at the MM Romance site, since all these stories are FREE! 

My gay marriage themed weekend

It started on Friday night when I thought I'd read a chapter or two of J.A. Rock's The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker , the sequel to the hilarious Wacky Wednesday , during which Jayk and Amon tie the knot. You know, just a chapter or two. Famous last words. Hours later, cursing myself for being stupid enough to start it when I needed to be up early in the morning, I finally got to sleep. 
My favourite quote: 
"That's us. Getting gay married tomorrow." "We just call it getting married." 
You must stop reading this now, I thought to myself. You're being the celebrant at a gay wedding tomorrow! I mean, just a wedding. 


So, I'm not actually a celebrant, but same sex marriage isn't yet legal in Australia. So while a part of me would have been happier in the audience while someone official did the job, I was absolutely honoured to be asked to do it. 
Honoured, and also terrified. 
But it was a wonderful day, and a beautiful beachside location. And the good news is I didn't screw up any of my lines. And, afterwards, a woman I hadn't met before came up to me. 
"Are you a celebrant?" she asked. "No," I said. "I'm not qualified or anything, because it's not a legal wedding." "You did a really good job," she said. "Oh, thanks!" "What do you charge?" 
So, there you have it. I might be doing this again for another lovely same-sex couple later in the year. Port Douglas, here I come! 
BTW, Dina, I charge nothing but alcohol and finger food. 
Other highlights included being outed as a writer of gay erotica during the speeches. "Well," said one of the brides, "when we needed someone to ask to be the celebrant at our wedding, who better than someone who writes gay erotica?" 
Fair point, I guess, although the boy/boy thing probably doesn't push their buttons at all. Except for one unnamed guest who admitted that guys getting it on together were hot, and erect penises were aesthetically pleasing, and she liked looking at them as long as she didn't have have them anywhere near her. 
The quote of the night was from one of the blokes there who said, "You know, that was really confusing. When they kissed, I didn't know whether to be happy or get an erection." 
In the end, I think he was happy to have an erection. Aren't all guys? 
But the quote of the morning after was this, from a very under-the-weather cousin of the bride: 
"I can't do shots!" "Baby, you had one." "I can't do shot!" 
I'm totally stealing that. 

J.A. Rock is here! And the Brat-Tastic Jayk Parker is almost here!

Today on my blog I’m interviewing the fabulous J.A. Rock. J.A.’s new book The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker is out June 4 from Loose Id. You guys should remember Jayk and Amon from last year’s hilarious Wacky Wednesday . Well, this time around, the boys are getting married! But, being Jayk and Amon, I’m sure things won’t exactly go to plan…
J.A., last time I interviewed you, you were some sort of backwoods recluse. Now you’re a globetrotter! Where are you now, and what are you up to?

I am in Valparaiso, Chile right now. Valpo is the cultural capital of Chile, so I’m getting all cultured up. The big issue that’s occupied the last week has been taking care of my lady mullet. It’s the short hair conundrum—if you try to grow it out, the back grows longer than the front, and pretty soon you look like young Wayne Gretzky. So I enlisted the help of my friend’s Argentinian hairdresser boyfriend. He doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Spanish, which is fine, because I’m incapable of giving a hair stylist specific instructions. Finally he agreed to “create on my head.” “Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what I want. Please create on my head.” I love what he created. Me gusta mi pelo nuevo.


And here’s the question I ask all my guests: What can you currently see outside your window?


I have one of the views I’ve always dreamed of. I can’t really describe it to you, because I have a really hard time describing buildings (you may recall I asked you to take care of the house descriptions in The Good Boy). But look! Pretty iron gatey thing over the window and a view of number 11’s door. It’s not sweepingly scenic, but it feels perfect for some reason.







This is the view from my house’s patio.





I’ll add Valparaiso to the list of places I am currently too poor to visit. It looks wonderful. And the lights make it look magical!


So, after finally sorting out the body-swap in Wacky Wednesday, what have the boys been up to? Apart from planning their wedding, of course.


They’ve been having a great time. Jayk’s much happier after losing his library job, and he’s been helping his English professor with a book on Emily Dickinson’s sister. Amon’s been busy at A&L Financial with events like the Fun-ancial Potluck. And there’s been a lot of bondage and spanking.


Sorry, my eyes glazed over when you said "bondage and spanking". Next question... Was it fun to revisit the boys after a year? Had you always intended to write a sequel for them, or was it the submission call for wedding-related novels that put the idea in your head?

It was so fun! They’re the easiest characters to work with, because they have this momentum where it feels like I’m not even the one telling the story. I hadn’t planned on a sequel, but suddenly last summer I knew I wanted to do one. I got a draft down and sent it to my editor…who told me LI was going to do a wedding submission call and asked if I wanted to release the book as part of that. So I’ve been sitting on this one for almost a year. Which is awesome, because I got to take a long break from it before revising.

What’s the craziest wedding that you’ve ever been to? There has to be a drunken uncle or inappropriate best man story somewhere in your history.

I went to my first wedding last September, after I wrote the book. It was great for fact checking. Actually, I think I went to a couple of weddings as a child, but I don’t remember them. My best friend got married, and I got to be a bridesmaid. I, um, didn’t want to pay for shoes at the bridal shop and have them dyed, so I bought $7 flats at WalMart and painted them. With oil paint. As a longtime oil painter, you’d think I would know that oil paint can take anywhere from two weeks to six months to dry. I did the shoes the week before the wedding. Tracked green paint everywhere—my car, the driveway, the reception hall. Thank god the wedding was outside. But my shoes did match the dress better than those of the bridesmaids who had them dyed! (Until all the paint rubbed off). Other than that, nothing too crazy happened at the wedding, except that I got to see all my best friends in one convenient location. Ooh, and the photographer was almost killed during the post-ceremony hayride. Forgot about that. We hit a rut in the field.
Not that I wish anything bad had happened to the photographer, but that would be a wedding people would always remember, wouldn’t it? None of this rubbish about how pretty the table decorations were, or what colour the flowers were. “Hey, remember David and Anita’s wedding? I’d never seen so much blood before.” I mean, nobody’s going to top that.
So, let’s talk marriage equity. This is something you only have in a few states in the US, I believe, but I can’t judge since we don’t have it here in Australia yet… taps foot and looks at watch…we’re waiting, government, we’re waiting… What issues did this cause for you in planning Jayk and Amon’s big day?

Good question. I didn’t want politics to be the focus of the story, but I was curious about how the political atmosphere could force Jayk and Amon to explore their more personal issues regarding marriage. There’s the added pressure of “Are we trying to prove something?” and “Do people see this as a wedding or as a novelty?” That stress makes them snap quicker when the personal concerns start cropping up.
I was briefly furious when I realized gay marriage isn’t legal in Michigan, where the book is set. Then I remembered there’s a body swap in the book. I’ve already taken poetic license with, you know, reality. I can’t wait to see them start to snap under the pressure!
Jayk and Amon have been together a while. What should I buy them for a wedding gift? Is The Stockroom off limits?
The Stockroom in infinitely preferable to Bed Bath & Beyond. But Jayk does mention wanting a Jet Ski shaped like a dolphin, if you don’t want to go the sex sling route.






I would go the sex sling route, except I’ll bet the boys already have one stashed away somewhere. I’m scared of dolphins now. I think it was you who told me they’re the rapists of the sea.
In The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker, do we get to see the proposal?
We do, briefly, in a flashback. Amon puts a ring on it while it’s tied to the headboard. So now that song's stuck in my head... And now give me three alternatives proposal scenarios, please.
1. The ring is in a Wendy’s bag waiting on top of Jayk’s car. (I stole that one from my sister’s life).

Aww! 
2. Jayk shaves “Will you marry me?” into Allen Ginspurr’s fur, but before Amon can see it, Ginspurr commits suicide from the shame. But as they’re burying him, Amon notices the question and says yes. Okay, that’s horrible. I should never be allowed to propose to anyone. 3. They’re on vacation in Australia. They’ve flown there on an aeroplane. De-sexed pets everywhere, bottle shops lining the streets, possums on the rooftops. They’re sitting in a car park near a harbour, wearing sand shoes and drinking flat whites and eating biscuits and lime jelly and admiring the colour of the sky. Suddenly Jayk realises that dosens of saltwater crocodiles are moving slowly toward them, and each croc has a letter painted on its back. The crocs arrange themselves to spell WILL YOU MARYR ME? (two of them got confused). Analysing the situation, Jayk realises Amon must have organised it all. He is honoured, and he promises if they can get out of the car park full of crocs alive, he’ll marry him.

Hmm...I’m sensing a lot of passive-aggressiveness coming off this last answer. Actually, less passive and more aggressive. This is because of the Twitter fight we had the other day about American English versus Real English, isn’t it? Dosens? Really? We don’t remove every “z”, you know. We just like to use them sparingly, as nature and the Gods of the Alphabet intended. I’m buying you a dictionary for Christmas. Sorry, Christmaz.

And now one with all these elements: Lycra shorts, Halloween, a lost credit card, someone called Francine, and a Winnie the Pooh reference. Your time starts now…go!

Jayk’s on a quest for the perfect pair of yellow lycra shorts and a Brando cap to complete his naughty Winnie the Pooh costume for Halloween. He finally finds what he’s looking for in a place called Francine’s Lycra Land and Adult Emporium. But when he goes to pay, he realizes he’s lost his credit card. He asks Amon, who’s dressing as slutty Tigger, if he’s seen it, but Amon plays dumb. A month later, Jayk receives his credit card statement, which shows an exorbitant purchase made at Kay Jewelers. That’s when Amon surprises him with the news that nobody actually stole Jayk’s identity—they’re just getting married. And Amon used Jayk’s card to pay for the engagement ring. Surpriiiiiiiise…







Is it too late for me to rewrite the proposal scene in the book?

Yes, way too late. Also, that picture is strangely disturbing. Last question: What’s your dream wedding? A carriage and a cathedral, barefoot on the beach, or something in between?

You know, I have never had the slightest interest in getting married, so I never had a dream wedding. I think there was a brief period in my teens where I told my parents I’d consent to get married if I could have a Medieval-themed wedding with actual jousting.




Oh my god! Can I come? I’ll sit up the back and be quiet, I promise? It won’t at all be like that time at the local Mediaeval Players night where I hurt the jester’s feelings by giving it back to him. (He started it.) You know what? Let’s not even bother with the wedding. Let’s just organise some jousting!
Thanks so much for being here today, J.A. I can’t wait to catch up with Jayk and Amon and all that body-swapping craziness!


Thanks for having me! I hope you enjoy.

I know I will! And here is the blurb for The Brat-tastic Jayk Parker:

A year after the body swap that let brat Jayk and his dom, Amon, experience each other’s lives for a day, the pair is ready to be married in a small, stress-free ceremony. Things are going smoothly until they meet Jennifer and Ron Gaines-Brake—a quarrelsome couple with a laundry list of troubles whose wedding is at the same venue. When Jayk and Amon are drawn into the other couple’s drama, their own doubts and fears about marriage start to surface. And when they accidentally switch bodies with Jennifer and Ron the day before the wedding, their simple, stress-free celebration starts looking more and more like a nightmare.
As the couples attempt to deal with each other’s families, secrets, and last minute wedding preparations, things spiral out of control. Add to the mix a missing cat, a vigilant police officer, an intimidating dildo, and a cake like no other, and it’s anybody’s guess whether the weekend will end in bells or bedlam.

"Unprofessional Reviews"...WTF?

Oh my god! How dare you review my literary masterpiece, you’re not even a proper reviewer! You’re just someone unqualified person off the street who read my book!
So, some authors out there seem to think that it’s okay to look down on “unprofessional reviews”. I don’t know WTF an “unprofessional review” is because, frankly, unless you’re working a fulltime job as a reviewer for The Times Literary Supplement or something, everything else probably counts as unprofessional, right?
I can’t remember the last time I bought a book based on a scholarly review. Because, let’s be honest, they’re mostly boring. Not only don’t I care if the journey of the MC can be read as a revisionist reinterpretation of Marxist-feminist postmodern theory, I don’t really understand what that means. (Note: probably nothing. I just strung some words I remembered from university together.)
Scholarly reviews are interesting, well, if you’re a scholar. But what about if you just want to know if you’ll like a book or not?
And that’s where all those “unprofessional reviews” come in. Tell me how much you loved a character. Tell me how you wanted to throw your Kindle across the room. Tell me how smexy it was, or how it gave you chills. Because that’s the stuff I want to know about, before I shell out some money for a book.


I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep on saying it: A reviewer doesn’t need to justify why they liked or hated a book. Either it worked for them or it didn’t. As an author, you shrug and move on. And you know what? It doesn’t even matter. Because for every person who thinks what you wrote was a steaming pile of crap, there will be another one who loved it and wants to have its babies.
And what’s with all this passive-aggressive bullshit lately about “Oh, you just said you hated it, and didn’t give any constructive criticism, that’s not a real review”. Well, a reviewer doesn’t have to give an author constructive criticism. Hell no. The ship’s already sailed on that one, buckaroo, because that was the job of your beta readers first, and your editor second.
And while it’s nice to get a review that tells you exactly what a reviewer liked (or hated), again, that’s not their job. They bought your book. They can paper the cat’s litter tray with it if they really want. And what do you care? They bought your book.
So, authors, take a deep breath, step away from the computer, put the crazy down, and let me sum this rant up for you:
1.    A reader does not need to have a degree in Literary Criticism in order to have a valid opinion.
2.   A reviewer does not have to be a paid reviewer in order to have a valid opinion.
3.  People review books because, generally, they love reading books and then discussing them with other people who also love reading books. Not because they're part of a secret global plot to discredit you. (You're not that important.)
4.   Stop whinging and go and write something.  

What Does Your Browser History Say About You?

Okay, so I clear my browser history every day. Mostly because my nine-year-old nephew often uses my computer, and there are things there that I don't want him to see. I'm already known as the relative who taught him the f-word at age three. Which, to be fair, was absolutely not my fault. I'd forgotten he was strapped into his kiddy seat in the back of my car. My invisible car, apparently, since a truck came out of a side street, completely didn't see me, and I had to brake and swerve off the road to avoid becoming a statistic. 
Then, while I was sitting there with my hands shaking on the steering wheel and my heart trying to break out from behind my ribs, a little voice piped up from the back seat: "Aunty Lisa, what's a fuck?" 
If I'd been able to think straight, I might have told him I said truck. 
So, six years down the track, and Tom uses my computer a lot. And, after one (fortunately closely monitored) incident where he wanted Google, typed "g" in the search bar and it defaulted to gaytube, I've learned to cover my tracks. 



But it did get me thinking about what my browser history says about me. 
Because, as a writer, I go off on whatever interesting tangent my imagination tells me to. A lot of the time this is porn. Which I can totally excuse as research, so there's that. But sometimes it's actual research, and I wonder what red flags are being raised when I spend a whole night searching "yellowcake" "armament factories" and "nuclear weapons". 
Surprisingly difficult to get information on the subject, to be honest. Unless you're a terrorist, I suppose, but maybe they don't use Google. Because I really want my guy to work in a factory that makes missiles, and even though I've found some great pictures, I'm pretty certain I need to know what those awesome-looking machines actually do before I write about them. I mean, it's only peripheral information, but I don't want to screw it up. 
Also, I don't want to get put on a no-fly list, so I don't know... 
Back to porn, I guess. 
Now, if you'll excuse me I need to delete my browser history before I get, "Aunty Lisa, what's an emergency twink?"