K-lee Klein's Blog: Chaos in the Moonlight , page 31

Pondering and a little discouraged

As a new or hoping-to-be-new-at-some-point author, I find it discouraging that there is always so much grief and overly-critical discussion about whether m/m books are all the same, redundant, badly written, simply reworked plots, characters and sex scenes. I, myself, bitch and whine about some of the books I read for their lack of editing and proofing, but I can usually still appreciate the story and the work that went into it.

This just seems to be a genre that eats its own more times than it encourages new blood, and that's very disheartening to me. It makes me feel like there really isn't a point in putting in the effort to get published, going through the fear, frustration and worry that entails actually sending a manuscript for perusal.

I'm not going to quit, writing is just too important to me, but it is something that weighs on my mind when I hear that a lot of readers won't even give new authors a chance because they just assume the whole genre has become tired and old and uninspiring. I'm not referring to anyone or anything in this post, just relaying my thoughts on the issue.

Sexy Saturday - water boys

Decided I needed some more hotness on my blog so my category today is "Water Boys".  Get wet and enjoy.

Flashback Friday - Warrant, Skid Row, Cinderella

So I'm trying more structure in my blog so Fridays is going to be Flashback Fridays where I post all the music I still love but most people probably don't. :)Basically in my younger years (okay and still), if you put some beautiful long hair on a guy, add some tight clothes (or better yet *coughs* no clothes), give him a killer voice and make him sing power ballads, I'd become a screaming fangirl - okay, I still do. Not that I don't have taste, specifications or favourites but... well, never mind.

Hope you enjoy Flashback Fridays.

(PS You're probably wondering that since today is Tuesday and not Friday, WTF am I doing - answer = I just couldn't wait to get the party started)






Warrant - with the talented Jani Lane who passed away 2 weeks ago. RIP Jani, we love you.
  

The amazing Sebastian Bach and Skid Row
 
Tom Kiefer and Cinderella
  

Men with dogs

My friend, one of only a handful of RL ones, had to go to the hospital yesterday. She has depression and took some pills - I was talking to her via BBM at the time and called her daughter. I don't think her intention was to end things, just to find some peace in her mind just as I know I've wanted on occasion. Her daughter didn't know what to do so I put my firm mommy-voice on the phone (even though she's older than me) and told her she had to go. Her daughter thanked me later, saying she was glad I was tough with her because she would only seem to listen to me. I think it's because I've been there and she knows it. She's in the hospital now, the best place for her I believe but I'm still worried, you know? I've put people through the same thing so I guess I have an appreciation of the helplessness that comes with not being able to soothe someone's mind when they're feeling that low. Anyhow - my friend is a big dog-lover so I thought I'd post some pics for whenever she can read this post and though she's not the perv man-lover that I am, I don't think she'd mind that I've mixed the dogs up with some pretty men.Peace.***I'll start with a few of my fave *coughs* gay porn couple - Samuel Colt and Christ Porter and their adorable pups, Eggs and Bacon. :) Yeah, as usual I overloaded this post. Sorry about that.

Confession time

I don't usually use this blog to share my feelings, mainly because I've been burned before by doing so in other places, but I've decided if I have something to say, this is the place to do it. That strange looking cat to the right is pretty accurate in how I feel a lot of the time, like I put this force field around myself so I don't get hurt. I tend to share too much sometimes and with the wrong people, and though I don't regret it all the time and it doesn't hold me back, sometimes it overwhelms my need to be social and "be" with my online friends.

If you know me at all, you know I spent some time in the hospital this year for depression - a really long amount of time actually, and though I've been "okay" since June, the fall brings its one struggles. I'm generally on high alert from the end of August until the end of October because for some reason if I'm going to crash and burn, that's when it happens. Sometimes I handle this by hermitizing myself, not letting anyone into my cave so to speak, which results in me shutting myself from those friends, mostly online ones, that help me so much and that I need more than air somedays.


I'm in that place right now, trying to stay above water and not drown in my own head. Writing is helping and I've managed to finish my Christmas cowboy story - 25,000 words - plus a synopsis which was hell. The problem with this time of year for me and any time that the depression has sought me out, is that when I disappear, my friends think I've done it to stay away from them or I'm being snobby or unsocial, when in fact it's the opposite. It's because I don't feel I have anything of value to contribute or say or I'd be bothering people if I made that first move. Silly, I know, but the truth. In reality, I'm starved for conversation and attention and support and I guess this is my way of saying, if you want to contact me (even if I seem to be out of the loop), please do. Getting emails or pms always make my day anyway, but right now they make my world.

I hope this hasn't sounded too whiny or self-promoting - it's just from the heart, and what I'm trying to say is I don't mind if you give me a little poke once and a while.

Rafa's hot and he makes me happy

I wrote almost 5,000 words on my cowboy Christmas story over the past 2 days, incidentally it's still a Christmas story for now because there may be other pubs that I can submit it to. Anyhow, it was going along great - 15,000 words and about 3-5000 to go - but today I have no motivation or inspiration at all. Could have to do with the three hours sleep I got, don't know why. This is a bad time of year for me and I was feeling pretty good about my progress but insomnia was my companion last night. And that's with the addition of not one but 2 prescription, heavy duty sleeping pills. I won't keep whining to you so my day has consisted of playing Facebook Slots and watching tennis. The latter is a good thing though, at least it was once my secret obsession started playing. So to make me feel better, I'm going to share my beautiful fave tennis hottie with you.
Note - I started watching Rafa (Rafael Nadal) before he was even old enough for me to consider him hot - at least legally - so I had to wait and drool once he turned 18 - that was 7 years ago and he's still just as beautiful except with shorter hair. :)























And a little Rafa man love. :D












Um... Donald where is your hand...er, wing?


Sorry, this ended up really obsessive, I mean long.

Glimpses of life, wips, vikings and Conan the Barbarian... NSFW

I'm back from holidays with a lovely sinus infection, ear infection and strangely enough my eyes are hurting too, plus a boatload of online drama as soon as I walked in the door. I'm trying to just move on but there's still some hurt and self-doubt but rather than dwelling, I thought I'd do a mostly gratuitous post to cheer me up, plus my muse has decided he's too sick to write, too. *pokes him*













WIPs - not the fun part of the post but here's where I'm at on what I'm writing. I obviously have ADHD issues and my muse cannot stick to one idea at a time - I shall learn to train him properly though... soon.








Glitter Fox series - about 15,000 words done on the next part - I've introduced a couple of new characters and decided Rylan and Gage are in for a bumpy ride. There has been and will be sex.




Cowboy Christmas story - No longer a Christmas story since I didn't make the deadline, well to be honest, I didn't try very hard. A week isn't very long especially when you're on holidays with your kids visiting so... I decided not to rush it and it's ended up growing bigger than it was supposed to anyhow. (I do have a problem with that - snickers) It will be the same story that I posted here but without the Christmas slant. Billy-Jo is still all angsty and let's hope Wyatt can do something about that. It's at about 11,000 words and I hope there will be sexy barn sex. lol



Scottish vampire - lost love story - I don't know if the guy in the pic is supposed to be a vampire but he sure as hell should be. *purrs* This story is only about 5,000 words so far but there are notes and stuff kicking around and Kael (my Scottish, Buddist vamp) is very vivid in my head. Hopefully I'll get to it sometime. There will definitely be loving sex.




Angel series - this isn't much of anything yet - a lot of notes but I know my first angel will be Anael, the Angel of Romance. I'm hoping to do a series about the different angels - I know there's other series out there but everyone writes different, right? I'm an angel-junkie so why not? *shrugs* Yep, you guessed it, there'll be angel sex.






YA story - nothing happening with this one right now but I'm quite inspired by the pic and I think one of the young beauties will be names Ivan. :) Probably just some first kisses and caresses and lots of eye-staring and shyness.




And finally, just when my muse has more than enough to inspire me with - and I partially blame this on the movie I went to last week, he gets this hankering to write some sort of barbarian-type romance. (cue the sexy Jason Momoa "Conan the Barbarian" pic) I have 3,000 words but my character isn't a barbarian but a viking. lol
Do you know how hard it is to find sexy viking pics - there are very few.:(




By the way, I loved the movie - my husband was not so impressed. He said Arnold's version was better *gags a little* because there was less dialogue. Lol - my reply "that's because Arnold can't talk". But I mean come on, only a guy would say Arnold was better than Jason - just look at the man. Okay, maybe that just shows my shallow movie choices and love of *ahem* talented (hot) men sweating and fighting and bleeding and just generally looking masculine and mean - don't get me wrong I love my sensitive, pretty boys too - I guess I just like a wide range of men. *snickers again* The theatre was me, some other women and all the rest were men - those women just didn't know what they were missing. The hair, the pecs (he never wore a shirt in the whole movie - swoons), the arms, the freaking hot "skirt and booties". I was ready to go back and watch him, I mean the movie, again. :P


He has a really great smile too. And his eyes always have this sexy, mischievous and gonna-whip-your-ass-for-killing-my-father look in them. *insert sniffles* One of my favourite lines was when he was with the princess-chick and he was like "Women, come here" - no apologies and no sappy "I fall at your feet crap" - he stayed true barbarian. And there was a sex scene - unfortunately with said chick - complete with boobs (lots of boobs in this movie) and his naked butt. Holy hell batman. *drools* Okay, I've gone completely off topic - a couple more gratuitous Jason pics and I'll move on. :P


There's this one...

And this one... (kinda graphic)

And this...

And *sighs* this one...

And finally a couple more.



And he plays this guy in Game of Thrones - or as my boys call it, Sex and Swords.


As for vikings, like I said pics are hard to find. But just think about how cool they are?

Cool ships

Cool helmets

Cool swords

Cool skins - lol

So yeah, I think I can write some hot, angsty, man-loving vikings without too much violence or bloodshed - maybe just in a you-saved-my-ass-I-love-you way. :)

There you have it - my mostly gratuitous, long-overdue post. If you find any hot viking pics send them my way and if you have anything you'd like to see on this blog, I'm open for suggestions - pics, videos, books, give me a sign.

Oh and I just happened to find a very gratuitous pic of Jason, I mean Conan's butt. :D


That was hard work, my head's aching now and I'm gonna go lie down - peace out everyone. :D
PS - this kind of makes me sound like all I want to write is sex but that's pretty far from the truth - the storyline is where it's at for me and if I can incorporate some intense emotion and heartache, I'll do that - then they'll have sex.

Plot bunnies are evil... but fun

I'd been working on the follow-up to my Outfoxed story - a longer one to be submitted to a publisher - 12,000 words so far and I still haven't got to the meat of the story. So I scheduled myself to write at least 1000 words a day while on holidays and I was doing great at that but then I got a stupid plot bunny in my head and decided to write a story for a Christmas anthology. (plot bunny was partially the responsibility of the lovely Lavinia Lewis who put the "anthology" part in my head :P) Only problem is the deadline is September 1 so I'm not sure I'm going to get it done and edited, plus my kids were all at the lake this week so didn't get as far as I'd hoped. No biggie - love having my kids here but truth be told, I'm ready for some dull quiet again.

There is another problem actually with my Christmas story - besides that fact it's a bit of a cowboy tale, sorry Ivie ! - it's at 7600 words and so far is really angsty and sad rather than being all happy and Christmasy. It will have a Christmasy HEA but I'm not sure it's what the anthology wants now. Damn muse just writes whatever he freaking feels like and he veered away from the baubly-tinselly (to kinda quote one of my fave guys) plot, at least for a while. So right now I have a very tortured soul as my MC and the goal is to make him happy and fill his life with joy and sex. *snickers* Maybe I'll just have to see how it goes when it's finally finished and if it's not done on time, try to submit it somewhere else? Hoping someone will help me with that eventually. *bats eyes*

Anyhow, I'll just keep writing and see what happens - not my usual modus operandi. :) Oh and thank you to all those who supported me in during my freak out in my last post - about the co-author thing - I'm trying to let it go and not let it affect how I feel about myself and my writing.

Here's an excerpt from my Christmas plot bunny - and some gratuitous cowboy pics - let me know what you think, and yeah, I used totally stereotypical cowboy names. XD

Happy Sunday.

*****

The old weathered screen door let out a high-pitched squeal into the silence of the night air, followed closely by a squeaky groan when the thick wooden door was pushed open. Billy-Jo stepped over the broken slat of hardwood as he slipped inside the all-too-familiar farm house. That board had been broken since he was a child, someone should have fixed it long ago — maybe it should have been him.

The house smelled musty but it seemed cleaner than Billy-Jo would have expected since he recollected what a terrible housekeeper his father had been after his mama had passed on. Gosh, was it really almost eight years since she'd been gone? And now they were together again, his mama and daddy, both succumbed to the different cancers that riddled their bodies until they'd been taken to their final destination. Billy-Jo thought it was probably for the best, no one wanted to live with a mysterious monster eating them from the inside out.

Coming home again brought back all his deep-buried regrets. He supposed most people had them to some degree, but his were huge, regrets that made him feel like a goddamn failure, the biggest being not having mama cremated like she'd wanted, her ashes sprinkled in the wind beside the pond she's loved so much. It had been daddy's doing, the cheap old bastard wouldn't spring for the extra cost of cremation, instead he'd put his beloved wife of twenty-five years in the cheapest casket he could find, then buried her in the local cemetery. Billy-Jo had been too young to help out, to see to his mama's last request followed through and he'd be damned if he'd fulfill one goddamn wish of his old man's — Christmas or not.

He slid through the kitchen, noticing the little planter of blue and yellow flowers in the middle of the old wooden table. What the fuck was up with that? Someone must have put them there after the old man died since Billy-Jo couldn't imagine him doing it himself. The countertops were the same, deep groves in the cheap wood made long ago and never repaired, but were those new handles on the cupboards and drawers? He paused to open the fridge door — cans of beer, bottles of water, and more out of context things, milk, yogurt, avocado and other fruits and vegetables he knew his daddy would never eat. Maybe the old man had found himself a girlfriend.

Not wanting to think about another woman in his mama's house, arranging things, buying things, taking over things, Billy-Jo made his way down the narrow hallway, the sighs and moans of the wood beneath his boots comfortable and familiar. He stopped at the entrance to the small family room, that's what his mama had called it — the place where the family gathers to show their appreciation of their lives together. His daddy had never complied to the so-called tradition, so it had usually been he and his mama sitting quietly together talking about their day. Was probably better that way anyhow.

God, but he missed her. He'd always questioned why she had to be the first to go. She was the good one, the fun one, the accepting and loving one. She wouldn't have snarled and spat when he told her he liked boys and not girls. She wouldn't have called him a goddamn abomination of the Lord. She wouldn't have shoved him so hard he'd broken the coffee table along with needing five stitches in the back of his head. She would have told him she may not understand his situation but she loved him and everything would be okay. Instead she'd been the one to go first and he'd been left to live with his old man's chauvinistic, bastardly ways. Sometimes he blamed her for the unhappiness he'd encountered in his teenage years, he knew he shouldn't but he did.

It didn't matter none anymore, they were both gone now, along with any other relatives who had lived in the small, dusty town he'd been born in. He'd had an older sister but she'd passed away from leukemia when Billy-Jo had been four or five so he'd never really known her. His mama had once told him the loss had hit his father harder than anyone else, Beatrice being daddy's little girl since the day she was born. Maybe that had caused his daddy's abrupt turn from doting father to bastard.

Coming back to this backwards backwoods town was his last journey to his family and he never planned on gracing the outskirts of this depressing place again. There was nothing left for him here, no one left for him since his daddy had kicked him out almost three years before. He planned on getting rid of the junk inside the house, maybe nailing a board here and there, adding the odd coat of paint and selling the fucker as soon as he could. The last of his childhood memories would be gone and then maybe he could actually start over without the damaging remembrances and what-ifs hanging over his head. Put the old man in his grave and move the fuck on.

Maybe putting all this to rest was what he needed to learn to smile again, to laugh, have fun, meet someone new and forget the face that had clouded his mind all these years. Being away didn't mean he'd built a better life, just a different life, one that was filled with solitude and at least partial acceptance. The diner he worked at was old and run-down but it was a job and the owners were decent to him considering he'd come to them without even a resume or any experience whatsoever. They'd also set him up in the tiny apartment upstairs, furnished with a single bed, a little chest of drawers and even a little desk where he did his sketching. Eventually he hoped to take some lessons at the art school around the corner from his work but that time wouldn't be for a while considering he didn't make much money and he wasn't really that motivated either. He liked his simple, quiet life and for now that was good enough.

"Billy-Jo?"

The single word reverberated inside Billy-Jo's skull, not so much for the word itself but the low, gravelly voice that spoke it. For a mere second he thought his heart might stop, the harsh reality of having the owner of the voice, the owner of the face he couldn't get out of his head even after so long, standing right behind him. His brain even leapt to the assumption that he was hallucinating, wishful thinking that the man was so close he could smell the woodsy scent of freshly shorn hay and coffee and sweat.

"Billy-Jo?" the voice repeated just before a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Wyatt… what are you doing here… how'd you get in?"


Billy-Jo held his breath as he turned around and Kenneth Wyatt Aames stepped out of the shadows. Still slim and lean, unruly, dark brown curls falling just past his ears, full, pouty lips curled up in a grin mirrored in the bright emerald eyes that sunk deep into Billy-Jo's soul. He tried not to rake his eyes up and down the body of his former friend, his former and present wet dream, but it was damn hard not to stare at the broad chest covered only by a thin white t-shirt and the low-slung faded jeans that hugged slim hips, strong thighs and everywhere else in just the right way. Damn, Wyatt had filled out nicely, more than nicely actually, the former one-hundred pound weakling had transformed into over six-feet of muscled stud in the time that Billy-Jo had been away.

"I knew you were coming in tonight," Wyatt was saying. "I wanted to welcome you home." He smiled that mischievous grin that haunted Billy-Jo's dreams, the ones that left him hard and desperate upon waking, one hand wrapped around his dick as he cried out in what could only be described as pleasure and pain mixed together into an earth-shattering, agonizing release.


Billy-Jo tried to sweep the memory from his brain, the crotch of his jeans becoming uncomfortable and tight even as he tried. He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against another crack in the hardwood, concentrating on getting his emotions and raging hard-on under control before he had to speak.

Do people make themselves feel better by bullying others?

I need to vent and write my feelings somewhere - so this is my choice of venues.

I'm on holidays and I made a decision while I've been at the lake to not co-author a series that someone had asked me to. I had agreed to take on the task with the stipulation that the only way we'd know if it would work and if we would be compatible was to give it a shot. It ended up being a major project on my behalf and the "red pencil" that I applied to only the first 7,000 words overwhelmed everything else in the document. It was an exhausting endeavour, time-consuming and involved no creative involvement on my part. The first book in the series was 60,000 words and it needed some serious editing.

I made the decision after deciding she was a little too pushy in telling me to think of it as "my job" and maybe I could take a few chapters to NOLA to give to editors and publishers. That all made me uncomfortable and had I wanted to do it, I'd certainly do it with my own work not on something that in all intents and purposes wasn't mine at all. I worded the email carefully, knowing she'd be upset especially since she'd had someone else bow out of the project before me. I didn't put down her writing or her character or anything else like that. I told her that with the right editing, her project could be good and I wished her the best of luck.

The email I got back was scathing, rude, demeaning and bullying. She attacked my character and the fact that I had discussed this with family and friends to make my decision. She said any rational person would be happy with having their name on the cover of the book and 50% of the profits. Excuse me, 50% of nothing is nothing.

She told me there is always a way to work things out when you "make an effort" and proceeded to tell me how normal people work a job, including breaks, lunch, etc. Excuse me again, lecturing me on how I treat my writing or my life is your business why? She accused me of not being an adult, on top of not being rational, plus apparently I have a "decided lack of character and maturity level". She said she was sick of supposedly decent people betraying her faith in them and I should be ashamed of myself.

*sighs* The problem with this situation is I take all criticism and harsh words to heart and when I say to heart, I mean right into the core of my heart where they stay and fester and grow low self-confidence and self-esteem. Not good qualities for an aspiring writer I know. I feel like she's going to spread lies about me and go around telling everyone what she thinks my character is and how rotten a human being I am, and though I shouldn't care, I do and it hurts.

I've whined enough so I'll end this - I hope everyone understands why I wrote it, not to be mean to anyone (I used no names after all) but to clear out my emotional mind of the moment. I'm gonna go back and try to enjoy the rest of my holidays now and maybe try to get back on the proverbial writers' horse before I completely fall off.

Thanks for listening.

I love my red pencil - addicted to editing?

I've heard writers say this before -"write first...edit later"- but I have to admit I'm really horrible about doing it. I tend to edit my stories to death while I'm writing and I can really understand where this article is coming from, especially the part about editing your rough draft while writing really slows down the process. It really makes me feel like I've done nothing and the story is just not progressing. It's because every time I open the file, I edit and nitpick and change things that I've already written so I don't even get to the story I'm trying to write.

I just end up with all this stuff in my head when I'm not even working on the story, especially at bedtime - "oh, Rylan should be thinking this or that in that one scene", "Gage should put those boots on while Rylan's watching not before he comes back". It's annoying and frustrating and I guess I just need to practice making notes somewhere else (I have this great set of interactive index cards that let me have a card for each character, for the band and for the plot). But the habit of editing and editing and editing some more is hard to break.

I know everyone writes their own way, have their own habits, but the way I write just doesn't seem as efficient or practical as the other way. I get it done eventually but just not in as timely a manner I guess. The article also says "it doesn't have to be perfect..." *ahem* they don't know me very well.



Here's part of the article and the source. (PS if you keep reading, I have a Glitter Fox excerpt at the bottom.

Write First…Edit Later
I promised to share with you the biggest mistake new writers make today. It's the mistake which turns a short writing process into a full day drudgery. And it's also a problem which isn't limited only to new writers. Experienced writers go through periods of time where it weighs them down.

I'm talking about editing at the same time you're writing. If you try to edit while you're doing your first rough draft of any article, white paper, or book, you're going to slow down the whole process to a snail's pace. Writing and editing are a completely separate process, and you have to treat them as such.

When you sit down to write, you must write. Don't worry about being perfect. Don't worry about making mistakes. Just do it. Write. You'll do your editing later in the process. You might end up cutting out several paragraphs from the beginning of your writing when you get to editing. It doesn't matter. In fact, when I'm training people on doing copywriting, it's normal for us to cut out the first few paragraphs or even their whole first page. It's almost as if they're going through a warm-up process in getting started.

So sit down and write. That's the key. Don't go back and edit. Don't sit there and contemplate what you'll say next. The more you can just write or type your thoughts out as they come to you, the easier the whole project will be. Don't allow yourself to rethink what you wrote at this point. Don't stop to go back and make changes yet. Just write it until it's finished.

source

*****
Short except on new character from Glitter Fox series - meet Anistazia. Think you'll like her? :)


Anistazia Flowers. Six feet two of sparkling, often-wigged, pierced and tattooed attitude. She was brash, moody, rude and over-the-top bitchy, but she was also Rylan and Gage's best friend. The pair had met Ani when Glitter Fox was first starting out and when Anistazia — "with a z honey" — was still Andy Baumgartner from Findlay, Ohio. Anistazia had been a pretty but unhappily, insecure boy, having hitchhiked across the country to find him… or herself, as fate would have it. She'd been one of those guys that even though tall in stature, had drifted and faded into the background like little more than a ghost.

Slim to emancipated body type, shaggy dishwater hair hanging limp against his acne-pocked, sallow skin, Andy/Ani had stumbled upon the band at one of the smoky, dilapidated bars they'd been playing in, falling instantly in love with Rylan and Gage, and the whole musician lifestyle. She started following them around, town to town, dive bar to dive bar, hitching rides under not the best of circumstances, until the band had just invited her along.
 
In the beginning she slept with both of them, often at the same time, as well as offering herself up freely as designated driver, chief cook and bottle washer just to earn her keep so she didn't have to go back to that "horrible world of horse shit, overalls and country bumpkins" - her words. The boys had never abused her favours nor had they ever admitted they would have kept her anyway because as quickly as she became attached to them, they'd also become attached to her. Gradually as Andy's confidence grew, Anistazia had been born and the previous shit-shoveling farm boy had never looked back. Now she was a full-fledged member of the crew, taking care of the band's wardrobe, make-up and hair products, all things neither Rylan or Gage had ever imagined needed to be taken care of at all. But more importantly, she was always there when they needed her, guns locked and loaded with support and drama. 

*****
One more thing before I sign off - I'm looking to start a critique group. It's not something I've ever done before nor really know how to do, but I think it would be beneficial. I already have one wonderful writer willing to take part and I think we'll aim for September, but if anyone is looking for this sort of group or knows of someone who is or already has a group looking for members, let me know. I'll do a post on this eventually too. Cheers.