Ana Bosch's Blog, page 2
September 20, 2012
New Christmas Novella Accepted!
I made a brief mention of this on Twitter, but I didn't make any sort of official announcement, so I figured now would be a good time before I forgot.
First thing Monday morning, I got the news that my new novella, "Lucky," had been accepted into Dreamspinner Press's advent calendar anthology for this December. That means that it'll be sold as part of the package of 30 stories, and it'll also go on sale individually with its own cover (and I know exactly what I plan for the cover already). It'll be in ebook format.
I'm excited about this story because it's my first contemporary m/m romance. It's also quite a bit less risky/controversial than the Undead Series or The Dragon Tamer. Granted, I love writing risky stories, but if a low-risk story happens to inspire me, then I take it and run with it.
There are a few layers to "Lucky," but on its surface it's a sweet, fun holiday story about a guy who desperately needs a date to his company's Christmas party, but ever since he got his lucky dreadlocks cut off, he finds himself striking out left and right.
As we get closer to the release date, I'll share an excerpt or two. In the meantime, I think I'll just sit here and do my happy dance. :)
First thing Monday morning, I got the news that my new novella, "Lucky," had been accepted into Dreamspinner Press's advent calendar anthology for this December. That means that it'll be sold as part of the package of 30 stories, and it'll also go on sale individually with its own cover (and I know exactly what I plan for the cover already). It'll be in ebook format.
I'm excited about this story because it's my first contemporary m/m romance. It's also quite a bit less risky/controversial than the Undead Series or The Dragon Tamer. Granted, I love writing risky stories, but if a low-risk story happens to inspire me, then I take it and run with it.
There are a few layers to "Lucky," but on its surface it's a sweet, fun holiday story about a guy who desperately needs a date to his company's Christmas party, but ever since he got his lucky dreadlocks cut off, he finds himself striking out left and right.
As we get closer to the release date, I'll share an excerpt or two. In the meantime, I think I'll just sit here and do my happy dance. :)
August 23, 2012
Follow the Rainbow Book Reviews Blog Hop: What Writing GLBTQ Literature Means to Me
Welcome to my post for the Follow the Rainbow Book Reviews Blog Hop!
I'm excited to be a part of the celebration! I'll be chatting a bit about some of my inspiration and why I write what I write. Also, I'm giving away one free ebook! You have your choice between my two current titles: Art of Death, and The Dragon Tamer. To enter the drawing, simply leave a comment on this blog post along with your email address any time before midnight central time on Sunday 8/26.
On Monday, I'll randomly draw the name of the winner from the comments and contact you by email. If you have a Dreamspinner account, we'll put the book of your choice on your virtual bookshelf. Otherwise, the book will be delivered as a PDF by email.
Also, make sure to check out the Rainbow Book Reviews Blog!
What Writing GLBTQ Literature Means to Me
I like to write fun, weird, unusual stories. Stories with action and drama and humor. Stories that don't take themselves too seriously. Heck, my most recent release was about undead painters and the people who worship them—and there's a sequel coming out in October. When I write stuff like that, how can I take myself seriously? I like to keep things light, and I like to joke around. But at times like today, when I take the time to sit down and really think about why I write what I write, I realize just how serious I am.
I've had GLBTQ friends for as long as I can remember. I'm of an ethnic minority, thus I've always empathized with others who felt like they weren't—or couldn't be—one of the "normal" kids. I'm even a minority within a minority—a rare Indian with a Christian upbringing when all the other Indians I knew were Hindu. Not Indian enough for most Indians, not Christian enough for most Christians, not girly enough for most girls, and so on. My GLBTQ friends were the ones who accepted me for all my weirdness—my utter lack of so-called femininity, my refusal to adhere to, promote, or support restrictive traditional gender roles, and more. They accepted these things without judgment or questions, the same way I accepted and respected them—and I can't even express how much gratitude I have for that acceptance.
I've wanted to be a storyteller for my entire life, but I've always felt frustration as a consumer because I strongly believe that minorities of all types—ethnic, GLBTQ, gender-based, etc.—should have fair, varied, realistic, and significant representation in fiction. I'm passionate about this for two reasons:
People who are part of these minority groups deserve to see characters like themselves in primary roles in fiction.People who are not part of these minority groups need to be exposed to these characters as a way of cultivating understanding and empathy, especially when they aren't lucky enough to live in a diverse environment.
Mainstream media likes to essentially "neuter" GLBTQ characters and have them be no more than colorful sidekicks for heterosexual heroes (who happen to get far more on-screen action than said sidekicks). On the flip side, lower budget indie movies and small press GLBTQ books sometimes reduce their characters down to their sexuality and nothing else, with stories that are either focused entirely on sex and romance, or on the Gay Experience (coming out, gay bashing, AIDS, etc.)
The latter is true of most minorities: stories that feature minority leads are almost always about the "minority experience." While I think those "minority experience" stories absolutely do need to exist, they're not enough. Minority characters need to be heroes in all kinds of stories, not just minority-themed stories, and at the same time it needs to be done in a way that doesn't ignore their identity, neuter, or whitewash them.
I looked at these mainstream stories with neutered GLBTQ sidekicks, and then at the genre stories of romance, sex, and more sex, and then at the stories of AIDS, gay bashing, self-loathing, and victimhood. It left me wondering: where is the middle ground? Where are the stories of GLBTQ characters living not just the gay experience, not just the love-and-sex experience, but the full human experience?
It got to the point where I felt more frustration than joy after consuming a work of fiction. I was sick of the idea that only straight white men could have high-flying adventures, solve a murder, make a heroic sacrifice, climb the career ladder, conquer paranormal creatures, or tame a dragon. I was sick of the idea that minorities could only be sidekicks and supporting characters in such stories, but never leads. I was sick of GLBTQ genre stories that refused to rise past clichés and familiar territory and failed to deliver substance beyond the sex scenes.
Most importantly, I was sick of ranting about these things but not actually doing anything to fix the problem.
So that's where I stand. That's why I write what I write. I write in the middle ground, the land of adventure, love, joy, danger, fun, loss, sex, success, missteps, and everything else that's part of the human experience. I'm by no means the only person who's devoted to this middle ground of GLBTQ literature, and I rejoice every time I find someone else who shares this exciting space with me. I'm excited by the recent growth of this middle ground, and I hope to see it continue to flourish.
Thanks for reading! Make sure to leave a comment below to be entered in my giveaway! And make sure to check out all the other participants of the blog hop!
August 15, 2012
Excerpt Time - Undead Series #3
Sharing a tiny excerpt from my WIP, the third book in the Undead Series. :sigh: I wish Porter were my roommate...
--
“Dude, it’s pizza time!” Porter called from the kitchen as soon as Riley walked through the door. He was wielding an oven mitt on each hand, as usual. Back when they’d first moved into the apartment on Medina, Riley had gone out and bought kitchen supplies without first checking to see if Porter had already picked any up. As a result, they’d ended up with two oven mitts, and ever since, Porter always made a point of wearing both whenever he cooked. As far as Riley could tell, the extra mitt didn’t seem to keep Porter from finding creative new ways to burn himself. All it did was make him twice as clumsy when handling pots and pans.
But he put on a hell of a good dinosaur-themed puppet show with them.
Riley shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the back of the nearest chair. Behind him, Porter’s focus had already made a rapid shift from pizza preparation to practicing his dinosaur noises. But before Riley could disappear into his bedroom, Porter suddenly stopped mid-rawr and called, “Come back here and eat some pizza!”
“Not hungry,” Riley mumbled. “Besides, I have to pack. Don’t you have to pack too?”
“I finished.”
“You’ve only been home for half an hour.”
Porter shrugged. Riley knew that his roommate kept very few personal items, so he let it go. Again, he turned for his room, but Porter called, “Dude, you have to eat. I made that pizza from scratch, you know. Half meat, half veggie, depending on whether you feel like Mr. Tyrannosaurus—” he held up his left oven mitt, “—or Mr. Brachiosaurus.” He held up his right mitt and waved.
Riley squinted. “Did you sew eyes and teeth on those oven mitts?”
“It was long overdue, and you know it.” He continued to hold up Mr. Brachiosaurus, which looked so pathetic that Riley had to admit it was somehow endearing.
Finally, Riley rolled his eyes and took a seat at the dining table. “I’ll take a couple veggie pieces.”
--
“Dude, it’s pizza time!” Porter called from the kitchen as soon as Riley walked through the door. He was wielding an oven mitt on each hand, as usual. Back when they’d first moved into the apartment on Medina, Riley had gone out and bought kitchen supplies without first checking to see if Porter had already picked any up. As a result, they’d ended up with two oven mitts, and ever since, Porter always made a point of wearing both whenever he cooked. As far as Riley could tell, the extra mitt didn’t seem to keep Porter from finding creative new ways to burn himself. All it did was make him twice as clumsy when handling pots and pans.
But he put on a hell of a good dinosaur-themed puppet show with them.
Riley shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the back of the nearest chair. Behind him, Porter’s focus had already made a rapid shift from pizza preparation to practicing his dinosaur noises. But before Riley could disappear into his bedroom, Porter suddenly stopped mid-rawr and called, “Come back here and eat some pizza!”
“Not hungry,” Riley mumbled. “Besides, I have to pack. Don’t you have to pack too?”
“I finished.”
“You’ve only been home for half an hour.”
Porter shrugged. Riley knew that his roommate kept very few personal items, so he let it go. Again, he turned for his room, but Porter called, “Dude, you have to eat. I made that pizza from scratch, you know. Half meat, half veggie, depending on whether you feel like Mr. Tyrannosaurus—” he held up his left oven mitt, “—or Mr. Brachiosaurus.” He held up his right mitt and waved.
Riley squinted. “Did you sew eyes and teeth on those oven mitts?”
“It was long overdue, and you know it.” He continued to hold up Mr. Brachiosaurus, which looked so pathetic that Riley had to admit it was somehow endearing.
Finally, Riley rolled his eyes and took a seat at the dining table. “I’ll take a couple veggie pieces.”
August 7, 2012
It Feels Like Christmas: The Gift of Good Grammar
After staring idly at my bookshelf, I discovered an old copy of Keys for Writers, which I needed for a class back in college. While most of the book was geared toward writing research papers and such, there were also grammar and punctuation sections that made the geeky part of me jump for joy. I sat down with the intention of flipping through the book quickly, only to look up after finishing and find that two hours had passed.
I'm pretty sure I love grammar more than is socially acceptable. (Really, most "cool" people would never admit to loving grammar, but I've never claimed to be "cool.") It had been a long time since I'd last reviewed a lot of the trickier rules, and I was thrilled to come across a few rules I'd either forgotten or never known. Believe it or not, this is the type of thing that I find exciting and inspiring and, well, absolutely delightful. It's like going to the Home Depot and picking up a new tip for my Dremel, or finding a new brush or paint color at the art supply store, only in this case, my new tools all came free.
Be it English or Spanish or Latin or even XHTML, language has always fascinated me. Sure, I love storytelling; that goes without saying. Storytelling has always been and will always be my passion. But in the world of genre fiction, sometimes it seems like the language itself is treated as an afterthought or simply a means to get to an end. I haven't met too many other writers in my genre who love not only the storytelling but also the intricacies of the language.
Now, I'm not a fan of flowery, showy, or pretentious prose. Nothing is worse than a writer who seems to revel in the sound of their own words. That, to me, is the writing equivalent of people who talk just to hear themselves talk. But I do love to read the works of authors who achieve an effective flow to their words without tripping readers up with grammatical errors. I also love challenging myself to avoid errors in my own writing, even if they are the type that most people don't care about.
In the m/m genre, I often hear people recommend novels by saying that if you look past the technical issues, a great story lies beneath. For me, the two must go together. Bad use of grammar, punctuation, or spelling pulls me out of a story and prevents me from fully enjoying it. We live in a time when anyone can get anything published, and a lack of technical skills is a red flag, alerting me that I'm holding a piece that doesn't meet professional standards. If genre writers want to be taken as seriously as literary fiction writers, and if self-published authors want to be taken as seriously as traditionally published authors, mastery of the basics goes a long way.
The technical stuff, after all, is the easy part. There are books and style guides and online instruction manuals that spell out exactly how to do it all. It's right or wrong, black or white. The hard part is the subjective: crafting a story, deciding which risks to take, deciding which expectations to meet and which to ignore, and then owning those decisions. I prefer to let readers get mad at me over the controversial things I allow my characters to do, rather than something as silly as poor use of grammar.
I'm pretty sure I love grammar more than is socially acceptable. (Really, most "cool" people would never admit to loving grammar, but I've never claimed to be "cool.") It had been a long time since I'd last reviewed a lot of the trickier rules, and I was thrilled to come across a few rules I'd either forgotten or never known. Believe it or not, this is the type of thing that I find exciting and inspiring and, well, absolutely delightful. It's like going to the Home Depot and picking up a new tip for my Dremel, or finding a new brush or paint color at the art supply store, only in this case, my new tools all came free.
Be it English or Spanish or Latin or even XHTML, language has always fascinated me. Sure, I love storytelling; that goes without saying. Storytelling has always been and will always be my passion. But in the world of genre fiction, sometimes it seems like the language itself is treated as an afterthought or simply a means to get to an end. I haven't met too many other writers in my genre who love not only the storytelling but also the intricacies of the language.
Now, I'm not a fan of flowery, showy, or pretentious prose. Nothing is worse than a writer who seems to revel in the sound of their own words. That, to me, is the writing equivalent of people who talk just to hear themselves talk. But I do love to read the works of authors who achieve an effective flow to their words without tripping readers up with grammatical errors. I also love challenging myself to avoid errors in my own writing, even if they are the type that most people don't care about.
In the m/m genre, I often hear people recommend novels by saying that if you look past the technical issues, a great story lies beneath. For me, the two must go together. Bad use of grammar, punctuation, or spelling pulls me out of a story and prevents me from fully enjoying it. We live in a time when anyone can get anything published, and a lack of technical skills is a red flag, alerting me that I'm holding a piece that doesn't meet professional standards. If genre writers want to be taken as seriously as literary fiction writers, and if self-published authors want to be taken as seriously as traditionally published authors, mastery of the basics goes a long way.
The technical stuff, after all, is the easy part. There are books and style guides and online instruction manuals that spell out exactly how to do it all. It's right or wrong, black or white. The hard part is the subjective: crafting a story, deciding which risks to take, deciding which expectations to meet and which to ignore, and then owning those decisions. I prefer to let readers get mad at me over the controversial things I allow my characters to do, rather than something as silly as poor use of grammar.
July 25, 2012
From the 7/21 Meet the Author Event
For those of you who weren't able to make it to my Meet the Author event on Dreamspinner Press's Facebook page last weekend, I'm posting the subjects here so you can take a look. I couldn't very well repost all the resulting conversation, but I will say it was a great event. I got to talk with a fellow ferret owner, several fellow chocolate lovers, chat a bit about all-male Shakespeare performances, discover some gorgeous guys, and more.
Also, you can catch me at the following events this week:
7/25 - Is Abuse Romantic? - abuse awareness month post on Chicks & Dicks
7/27 - Nude Models - guest post on Pants Off Reviews 1-Year Blogoversary - with ebook giveaway
7/31 - Art School - guest post on Long and Short Reviews
Meet the Author - Ana Bosch - July 21, 2012
1pm: Introduction
Hi all! Ana Bosch here, reporting in for my Meet the Author event! I'm really excited to chat with all of you today, and I hope you'll enjoy it as well. I'm celebrating the recent release of my debut novel, Art of Death. I'll be giving away a free ebook copy of Art of Death during the event today, so keep an eye out for the two giveaway threads. I'll be here until 6pm ET today to chat and share excerpts and even share some artwork!
So let's start with an introduction. I go by Ana Bosch, but I'm not particularly secretive about my real identity. Most people know me first as a freelance illustrator, and if you're looking at this post, you've already seen some of my art! I'm an insane workaholic, I'm obsessed with animals—especially ferrets and parrots, and I love providing entertainment to people who like stories that are a bit outside the mainstream. I'm located in the magical land known as Illinois.
Your turn! Comment below and introduce yourself. Are you a reader? A writer? A unicorn? How did you happen upon Dreamspinner Press and m/m fiction?
1:30pm: A Little Art for Art of Death - Ana BoschIf you've read Art of Death, or even just the blurb, you know that art is one of the story's main themes. Like me, Riley is a freelance illustrator, although at the time I wrote the novel, I was actually still a miserable corporate employee who only wished I could have Riley's job (minus the nude modeling part).
To celebrate the art theme of Art of Death, I'm going to do something a little different during this chat. I'll be sketching while we talk, and I'll post the sketches at the end of the chat. Have a sketch request? Drop me a note here! It can be anything, but preferably m/m related. Want me to interpret a character from Art of Death? Want me to take a shot at someone else? Let me know!
Random fact of the day: the cover of Art of Death was inspired in part by Caravaggio's Boy with a Basket of Fruit
(Note: the chat was so busy that I didn't actually get a moment to even pick up a pen. There weren't too many sketch requests, mostly just conversation, but I'm still planning to post at least a couple sketches once my most pressing professional deadlines are out of the way.)
2pm: Enemies Turned Lovers - An Art of Death Excerpt - Ana BoschI'm a huge sucker for rivals turned lovers, and for enemies turned lovers. Whenever I see a pair of guys in fiction who are constantly at each other's throats, I'm always hoping for that little glimpse that proves that the two men actually care about each other.
This was my inspiration for Westwood's character. I wanted to play with the idea of someone falling for their potential enemy, and all the uncertainty and danger that comes with it. Westwood is not a safe man for anyone to fall for, and Riley learns that fast enough. But I love the brief scene I'm about to share—which takes place shortly after Riley escapes a sticky situation with the artist Coliaro—because it gives a bit of that glimpse I mentioned above.
***
Excerpt: Art of Death
Upon reaching the town house, Riley turned off his headlights, easing into the driveway and parking outside the garage. He was hoping Nick had gone to bed, and he didn’t want to awaken him by opening the rusty garage door. He slid out of the car and gently pushed the driver’s side door shut before turning toward the house.
Westwood stood at the hood of the Corolla, his face hidden in shadow. Riley cried out and stumbled back against the side of the car. “Shit, Westwood!”
The man didn’t speak. Riley waited, his heartbeat returning to a normal pace, but Westwood continued to stand without offering any explanation.
“What are you doing here?” Riley asked at last. “My boyfriend is inside.”
Westwood hesitated. Then, softly, he whispered, “I had to make sure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Coliaro told me he was going to… do things to you. Did he?”
“He didn’t do anything.” Riley crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you even care? And why are you asking now all of a sudden? After our phone conversation, I was under the impression you were pissed at me.”
“I am. You were an idiot, going after Coliaro like that. But that doesn’t mean I want you maimed or tortured. I’ve known Coliaro for a long time, and he doesn’t make empty threats.”
Riley looked past Westwood toward the house. The curtains were drawn over all the windows, and he couldn’t tell if Nick had waited up for him. “Listen, I just want to go to sleep.”
Westwood reached out without warning, tilting Riley’s chin back. His eyes appeared oddly reflective in the dark as he examined Riley’s neck. His gaze traveled down, pausing on Riley’s wrists. Riley pulled back, bracing himself against his car. “It’s only a couple rope burns on my wrists, and a few scratches from falling into the bushes. No big deal.”
Riley had a feeling he would have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last few words. Westwood narrowed his eyes, and Riley felt himself begin to tremble. He hadn’t realized how shaken he still was by his encounter with Coliaro. Now, in front of Westwood, was not the time he’d wanted to make that discovery. Swiftly, he turned away, cursing under his breath as his tremors intensified.
He could feel Westwood’s gaze on him, scrutinizing him. “I’m tired,” Riley told him, his voice choked. “That’s all.”
A warm hand on his back snapped him into awareness. His muscles went rigid and he turned, meeting eyes with Westwood. The man ran his hand slowly up and down Riley’s spine, easing his tremors. Riley shuddered, alarmed at the potency of Westwood’s touch, and alarmed at himself for how badly he wanted more.
He reveled in the warmth of Westwood’s soft caress, closing his eyes and breathing in deep. This was exactly what he needed—a calm, reassuring hand. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak, and Westwood immediately withdrew as if assuming Riley would protest. He took a couple steps back, giving Riley space, and Riley almost groaned in frustration. More than anything, he wanted that hand on him again. He wanted that surprisingly gentle touch.
Westwood lingered a moment. If Riley didn’t know better, he would have thought the man didn’t want to leave him alone. When Westwood finally spoke, it seemed to take him a considerable amount of effort. “I only came to make sure you made it home alive,” he said gruffly. “Go inside and go to sleep.”
Riley considered calling back to him, asking him to stay awhile. But by the time he managed to find his voice, Westwood had already disappeared into the shadows.
2:30pm: GIVEAWAY THREAD: Guilty Pleasures - Ana Bosch
Okay, I'm starting the giveaway thread a little early. I want some of you lurkers in here! :)
For me, Art of Death is the type of guilty pleasure book I'd want to read—if anyone else out there were writing stuff like this. On the subject of guilty pleasures, I have quite a few of them.
I'm one of those people who has her collection of Ultimate Fighter DVDs sandwiched between her copies of Legally Blonde and Project Runway. (I wonder how many of us there are out there?) Mixed martial arts is my newest guilty pleasure, and it's actually thanks to researching and choreographing fight scenes for Bonds of Death, sequel to Art of Death, that I got sucked into it. I love anything welterweight and lighter. While I definitely appreciate the sport, I admit that a huge part of the appeal is watching really fit half-naked dudes "mounting" each other, among other colorful things.
My sister tells me I used to be smarter before I started watching MMA (and even smarter before I got pet birds). Unfortunately, I'm no longer smart enough to argue with her about it or tell her she's wrong.
Your turn! What are your guilty pleasures? It can be anything, from food to entertainment to hobbies. Comment any time before 5:30, and you'll be entered to win an ebook copy of Art of Death! (giveaway closed)
3:30pm: Early Favorites - Ana BoschI'm not locked into my genre, but I admit that when I write, I have a soft spot for paranormal stories. Demons, monsters, and magic are like crack to me. I first became interested in paranormal stories when I was in middle school and discovered the books of John Bellairs. I read just about every book by him that I could get my hands on, but I was especially fond of the Johnny Dixon books. I think John Bellairs was my first official "favorite author." Looking back, I'm surprised at how much those books are still influencing my storytelling as an adult.
And wow, a glance at Wikipedia has just informed me that they're working with Eric Kripke to make a feature film based on his books! :bounces in her seat:
Do you guys remember your first favorite author? Or do you remember the first author who influenced your creative vision, whatever it may be? Tell me about them!
4:30pm: GIVEAWAY THREAD #2: Places to Visit - Ana BoschWhen I was a kid, my dad would take us on vacation to Orlando every summer. By the time I was twelve, I was that insufferable spoiled brat who complained that she was bored of Disney World. But seriously, vacationing in Florida in the summer kind of sucks when you're like me and you can't stand hot weather. I didn't gain an appreciation for Florida until I went there for college.
Art of Death takes place in Florida, and I really enjoyed getting to go back and "visit," if only in my mind. It was like I was there all over again, feeling the humidity, surrounded by the familiar architecture and tropical plants. And it just so happens that this Friday, I'm going back to Florida with my dad for a week! This is a long overdue vacation, and now that I'm in my late twenties, I have a much greater appreciation for Florida.
What's your favorite vacation spot? Where's your favorite place to go when you need to get away? Any place counts, whether it's Hawaii or the café down the street or even Hogwarts by way of reading. Comment any time before 5:30, and you'll be entered to win an ebook copy of Art of Death! Already commented in the other giveaway thread? Comment here too, and you'll be entered twice!
(P.S. I'm skipping the "chat with the boys of Art of Death" thread, because I think most people here haven't read the book yet, and I don't want to get too spammy on Dreamspinner's page. But if you have a burning question you want to ask one of the boys, feel free to drop it here! Just try to avoid major spoilers.)(giveaway closed)
5pm: Riley's Nude Modeling Session - Art of Death Excerpt - Ana Bosch
Half an hour till the ebook drawing! I can't believe this chat is almost over! I'm sharing another excerpt from Art of Death! Riley poses for a private session for the (amazingly creepy) artist Coliaro.
***
“You’re so tense,” Coliaro said as he adjusted the lighting around Riley. “Are you nervous?”
Riley swallowed, his dry throat clamping shut. He was in Coliaro’s spacious studio, lying atop cushions that were draped with violet silk. Back arched, head tilted back, arms above his head. It was a terribly vulnerable position. Around him were rows of candles that provided the primary light source, with overhead clamp lights to further illuminate the scene.
As Coliaro shifted the light, it aimed briefly into Riley’s eyes. He blinked, large white spots clouding his vision. “I’ve never done a private session before,” he explained to Coliaro. “And never with a famous artist.”
“John Tobias was relatively famous in his day. And he’s quite a bit more critical than I am.” He glanced down at Riley. Riley could almost feel the weight of his eyes as they traveled over his jutting ribs and flat belly. “How’s your back? Good?”
“Mm-hmm.” He swallowed again; he was parched.
After finishing with the lighting, Coliaro began marking portions of the silk around Riley’s body with tape so he could get back into position after his breaks. Riley squirmed a bit; this part always made him feel like a body at a crime scene. Coliaro’s knuckles brushed against him more than a few times, and Riley began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.
“Hold still a moment,” Coliaro said. He reached out, turning Riley’s head slightly to the side and gently arranging his hair across his forehead. The man’s rough fingertips grazed his face. “You have beautiful eyes,” he said. “Emerald. I’m looking forward to bringing out that color in the painting.” He gazed down for another moment. “And such long, dark lashes.”
Riley laughed uneasily. “I swear I’m not wearing mascara. Everyone always thinks I am.”Coliaro gave him a light pat on the cheek. “Either way, you’re stunning.”The man stared at him for another moment, and Riley wondered what he was looking for. His discomfort began to grow, but Coliaro finally took a step back and turned for his easel. After grabbing his palette, he gave Riley a wink. “All right, my dear. Let’s begin.”
***
The moment Coliaro set down his brushes and announced that he had finished, Riley realized he was naked. Granted, he knew that he had been naked for the full three hours, but the candles and the soft music Coliaro had in the background made him feel calm and relaxed. Now, he suddenly felt exposed.
He pulled on his maroon silk robe; then he stood up and began doing stretches to loosen his muscles. As Coliaro stepped back to examine his painting, he said, “You were excellent. Better than this morning. I wouldn’t have believed you’ve only been posing for a few months.”
“I think it helps that I’ve taken so many figure classes as a student,” Riley said. “It’s easier to know what the artist needs if you’ve been one.”
“I could paint you all day,” Coliaro mused, admiring his work. He looked back up at Riley. “Would you like to see?”Riley made his way across the studio, climbing over electrical wires and wooden risers on the way. He braced himself as he stepped up to the canvas and raised his eyes. What he saw made his breath catch. He’d never seen himself in such a way before. He’d always considered himself fairly average and not particularly charismatic, despite Nick’s arguments to the contrary. However, in the image he looked incredibly… sexual. Seductive. He wondered if this was the way Nick saw him.
“You’re so amazing at what you do.”
“Me?” Coliaro asked, brushing him off. “This is all you. This is your essence.”
“You flatter me.”
As Coliaro sat back to admire his work some more, Riley began looking around, checking out the setup of the studio. During the pose, he’d fixed his eyes on the crack between the back wall and the ceiling, occasionally glancing up at the skylight above him. He only hoped one day he’d have the luxury of owning such a spacious and accommodating studio. Considering that Coliaro was known only for his oil paintings, Riley was surprised to see such a variety of tools and media in the room. An airbrush and air compressor, rows of chalk pastels, pads of newsprint, and more occupied the nearby shelves.
Around the corner was a door that was just a crack open. He peered inside tentatively, finding a vast storage area within. There were a couple of unfinished paintings sitting against the sides of the walls. He couldn’t tell in the darkness, but there also looked to be a painting of a fully clothed figure, completed, in an ornate gold frame.“Who’s in that big framed portrait?” he asked, pointing.
Coliaro raised his head, suddenly realizing Riley was looking in his storage area. He leapt across the room, grabbing Riley’s arm and yanking him away from the door.
“Ow!”
“What were you doing in there?”
“I… I wanted to see your works in progress.”
Coliaro let him go, sheepishly running a hand through his thinning hair. “I do apologize for startling you. I show only a select few of my unfinished works to visitors. I’m very self-conscious about some of them, and I don’t like for them to be seen.”
“I was just curious about the framed one. It looked like it was finished. Who’s in it?”
“It’s no one,” Coliaro said curtly. He stepped around Riley, closing the door to the storage room.
Riley’s face flushed. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed to have overstepped Coliaro’s boundaries.
Coliaro let out a deep breath, as if releasing a week’s worth of stress all at once. “It’s all right, my dear. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Glancing down, Riley was surprised to see the beginnings of a deep bruise forming on his forearm. He hadn’t realized Coliaro had gripped him so hard.
“Come here,” Coliaro said, pulling Riley forward gently. He circled around behind him and began rubbing his shoulders through his thin, silky robe.
“What are you doing?”
“The way you reacted to my painting of you, I can tell you don’t recognize your own worth. That’s why you’re always so anxious. I don’t want you to be anxious.” His hands slid down the sides of Riley’s arms, then back up, squeezing at the inner corners of his shoulders. Riley shuddered a bit at the feeling of the man’s hands at the sides of his neck, but he didn’t resist. It felt good, especially after three hours of lying still.“I don’t need to keep this painting. It’s the act of painting itself that gives me my joy and pleasure. I think I’ll donate it to the school. This way you’ll be able to see it anytime, and you’ll be reminded of how magnificent you really are.” His fingers slid down Riley’s back, still massaging, and Riley let out a shaky sigh. The man really was good with his hands.
When he began to feel his blood heating up, he abruptly pulled away. “I should get going,” he gasped. “My boyfriend will be worried if I’m home late.”
Coliaro lifted an eyebrow in response to Riley’s pointed reference to his boyfriend, but he let it pass without comment. “All right, understood. Do you need directions back to your place?”
“No, I know the way.”
“Good, good.” As Riley disappeared into the neighboring dressing room, Coliaro called after him, “By the way, I come to town fairly frequently. I’m flying out in a couple days, but maybe when I return, we can see each other. And maybe even do another painting together.”
As he pulled on his shorts, Riley considered. Coliaro seemed decent enough, albeit a bit more forward than he would have preferred. The massage was unsettling, but as soon as Riley had broken away, the man had let him go without a fuss. And Riley had to admit the thought of another hefty paycheck was a compelling lure.
After slipping his feet into his sandals, he emerged from the room. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
“Great. And how shall I contact you when I’m in town?”
Riley jotted down his home and cell numbers on a spare scrap of paper and handed it to Coliaro. The man folded it up in a clean, precise square and slid it into his pocket.
Riley reached out for a handshake before leaving, and Coliaro instead pulled him into an embrace. After they parted, he gave Riley a gentle smile. “I look forward to the next time we see each other.”
5:30pm: Giveaway Drawing - Ana BoschTime for the giveaway drawing! Thank you so much to everyone who entered! I really enjoyed hearing your guilty pleasures and places to visit. The lucky winner of the Art of Death ebook is… Christine Camellia!
Christine, send me an email at ana (at) bob-artist.com, and let me know the email address you use for your Dreamspinner account so we can add Art of Death to your shelf. If you don't already have an account, it's quick and free to sign up. If you really don't want an account, we can email you the book.
To those of you who didn't win, there are still two more chances to get a free copy of Art of Death! My paperback giveaway on Goodreads ends on 7/25, and you can sign up here:http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/28969-art-of-death
Also, I'll be guest blogging about nude models on Pants Off Reviews on 7/27 to celebrate their one-year anniversary, and I'll be giving away one more ebook copy of Art of Death. Keep an eye out for the post here:http://pantsoffreviews.blogspot.com/
And one last chat topic for the final 1/2 hour: What are you doing this weekend? Any fun plans? I think I'm still going to try to make it to that mustache party…
6pm: Farewell - Ana BoschAll right, it looks like it's time to say goodbye. I do hope some of you will continue to look out for my future projects and upcoming guest appearances. You can keep up by checking me out on twitter @anaboschwriting, or on my blog at http://www.anaboschwriting.com. Also, don't forget to pick up your copy of Art of Death or enter the upcoming giveaways I mentioned in my last post!
I had planned to share some info and an excerpt on Bonds of Death, but again, I don't want to be spammy or put up spoilers none of you can safely read. So I'll put it up on my blog after the chat as an "after-party." :)
I really enjoyed chatting with all of you. I'm so lucky to get to meet so many great people! I do hope to see you all more in the future! Thank you so much to Dreamspinner Press for letting me take over the page today, and thanks to all of you for the best chat ever!
Later, dudes!~Ana
Also, you can catch me at the following events this week:
7/25 - Is Abuse Romantic? - abuse awareness month post on Chicks & Dicks
7/27 - Nude Models - guest post on Pants Off Reviews 1-Year Blogoversary - with ebook giveaway
7/31 - Art School - guest post on Long and Short Reviews
Meet the Author - Ana Bosch - July 21, 2012
1pm: Introduction
Hi all! Ana Bosch here, reporting in for my Meet the Author event! I'm really excited to chat with all of you today, and I hope you'll enjoy it as well. I'm celebrating the recent release of my debut novel, Art of Death. I'll be giving away a free ebook copy of Art of Death during the event today, so keep an eye out for the two giveaway threads. I'll be here until 6pm ET today to chat and share excerpts and even share some artwork!
So let's start with an introduction. I go by Ana Bosch, but I'm not particularly secretive about my real identity. Most people know me first as a freelance illustrator, and if you're looking at this post, you've already seen some of my art! I'm an insane workaholic, I'm obsessed with animals—especially ferrets and parrots, and I love providing entertainment to people who like stories that are a bit outside the mainstream. I'm located in the magical land known as Illinois.
Your turn! Comment below and introduce yourself. Are you a reader? A writer? A unicorn? How did you happen upon Dreamspinner Press and m/m fiction?
1:30pm: A Little Art for Art of Death - Ana BoschIf you've read Art of Death, or even just the blurb, you know that art is one of the story's main themes. Like me, Riley is a freelance illustrator, although at the time I wrote the novel, I was actually still a miserable corporate employee who only wished I could have Riley's job (minus the nude modeling part).
To celebrate the art theme of Art of Death, I'm going to do something a little different during this chat. I'll be sketching while we talk, and I'll post the sketches at the end of the chat. Have a sketch request? Drop me a note here! It can be anything, but preferably m/m related. Want me to interpret a character from Art of Death? Want me to take a shot at someone else? Let me know!
Random fact of the day: the cover of Art of Death was inspired in part by Caravaggio's Boy with a Basket of Fruit
(Note: the chat was so busy that I didn't actually get a moment to even pick up a pen. There weren't too many sketch requests, mostly just conversation, but I'm still planning to post at least a couple sketches once my most pressing professional deadlines are out of the way.)
2pm: Enemies Turned Lovers - An Art of Death Excerpt - Ana BoschI'm a huge sucker for rivals turned lovers, and for enemies turned lovers. Whenever I see a pair of guys in fiction who are constantly at each other's throats, I'm always hoping for that little glimpse that proves that the two men actually care about each other.
This was my inspiration for Westwood's character. I wanted to play with the idea of someone falling for their potential enemy, and all the uncertainty and danger that comes with it. Westwood is not a safe man for anyone to fall for, and Riley learns that fast enough. But I love the brief scene I'm about to share—which takes place shortly after Riley escapes a sticky situation with the artist Coliaro—because it gives a bit of that glimpse I mentioned above.
***
Excerpt: Art of Death
Upon reaching the town house, Riley turned off his headlights, easing into the driveway and parking outside the garage. He was hoping Nick had gone to bed, and he didn’t want to awaken him by opening the rusty garage door. He slid out of the car and gently pushed the driver’s side door shut before turning toward the house.
Westwood stood at the hood of the Corolla, his face hidden in shadow. Riley cried out and stumbled back against the side of the car. “Shit, Westwood!”
The man didn’t speak. Riley waited, his heartbeat returning to a normal pace, but Westwood continued to stand without offering any explanation.
“What are you doing here?” Riley asked at last. “My boyfriend is inside.”
Westwood hesitated. Then, softly, he whispered, “I had to make sure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Coliaro told me he was going to… do things to you. Did he?”
“He didn’t do anything.” Riley crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you even care? And why are you asking now all of a sudden? After our phone conversation, I was under the impression you were pissed at me.”
“I am. You were an idiot, going after Coliaro like that. But that doesn’t mean I want you maimed or tortured. I’ve known Coliaro for a long time, and he doesn’t make empty threats.”
Riley looked past Westwood toward the house. The curtains were drawn over all the windows, and he couldn’t tell if Nick had waited up for him. “Listen, I just want to go to sleep.”
Westwood reached out without warning, tilting Riley’s chin back. His eyes appeared oddly reflective in the dark as he examined Riley’s neck. His gaze traveled down, pausing on Riley’s wrists. Riley pulled back, bracing himself against his car. “It’s only a couple rope burns on my wrists, and a few scratches from falling into the bushes. No big deal.”
Riley had a feeling he would have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last few words. Westwood narrowed his eyes, and Riley felt himself begin to tremble. He hadn’t realized how shaken he still was by his encounter with Coliaro. Now, in front of Westwood, was not the time he’d wanted to make that discovery. Swiftly, he turned away, cursing under his breath as his tremors intensified.
He could feel Westwood’s gaze on him, scrutinizing him. “I’m tired,” Riley told him, his voice choked. “That’s all.”
A warm hand on his back snapped him into awareness. His muscles went rigid and he turned, meeting eyes with Westwood. The man ran his hand slowly up and down Riley’s spine, easing his tremors. Riley shuddered, alarmed at the potency of Westwood’s touch, and alarmed at himself for how badly he wanted more.
He reveled in the warmth of Westwood’s soft caress, closing his eyes and breathing in deep. This was exactly what he needed—a calm, reassuring hand. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak, and Westwood immediately withdrew as if assuming Riley would protest. He took a couple steps back, giving Riley space, and Riley almost groaned in frustration. More than anything, he wanted that hand on him again. He wanted that surprisingly gentle touch.
Westwood lingered a moment. If Riley didn’t know better, he would have thought the man didn’t want to leave him alone. When Westwood finally spoke, it seemed to take him a considerable amount of effort. “I only came to make sure you made it home alive,” he said gruffly. “Go inside and go to sleep.”
Riley considered calling back to him, asking him to stay awhile. But by the time he managed to find his voice, Westwood had already disappeared into the shadows.
2:30pm: GIVEAWAY THREAD: Guilty Pleasures - Ana Bosch
Okay, I'm starting the giveaway thread a little early. I want some of you lurkers in here! :)
For me, Art of Death is the type of guilty pleasure book I'd want to read—if anyone else out there were writing stuff like this. On the subject of guilty pleasures, I have quite a few of them.
I'm one of those people who has her collection of Ultimate Fighter DVDs sandwiched between her copies of Legally Blonde and Project Runway. (I wonder how many of us there are out there?) Mixed martial arts is my newest guilty pleasure, and it's actually thanks to researching and choreographing fight scenes for Bonds of Death, sequel to Art of Death, that I got sucked into it. I love anything welterweight and lighter. While I definitely appreciate the sport, I admit that a huge part of the appeal is watching really fit half-naked dudes "mounting" each other, among other colorful things.
My sister tells me I used to be smarter before I started watching MMA (and even smarter before I got pet birds). Unfortunately, I'm no longer smart enough to argue with her about it or tell her she's wrong.
Your turn! What are your guilty pleasures? It can be anything, from food to entertainment to hobbies. Comment any time before 5:30, and you'll be entered to win an ebook copy of Art of Death! (giveaway closed)
3:30pm: Early Favorites - Ana BoschI'm not locked into my genre, but I admit that when I write, I have a soft spot for paranormal stories. Demons, monsters, and magic are like crack to me. I first became interested in paranormal stories when I was in middle school and discovered the books of John Bellairs. I read just about every book by him that I could get my hands on, but I was especially fond of the Johnny Dixon books. I think John Bellairs was my first official "favorite author." Looking back, I'm surprised at how much those books are still influencing my storytelling as an adult.
And wow, a glance at Wikipedia has just informed me that they're working with Eric Kripke to make a feature film based on his books! :bounces in her seat:
Do you guys remember your first favorite author? Or do you remember the first author who influenced your creative vision, whatever it may be? Tell me about them!
4:30pm: GIVEAWAY THREAD #2: Places to Visit - Ana BoschWhen I was a kid, my dad would take us on vacation to Orlando every summer. By the time I was twelve, I was that insufferable spoiled brat who complained that she was bored of Disney World. But seriously, vacationing in Florida in the summer kind of sucks when you're like me and you can't stand hot weather. I didn't gain an appreciation for Florida until I went there for college.
Art of Death takes place in Florida, and I really enjoyed getting to go back and "visit," if only in my mind. It was like I was there all over again, feeling the humidity, surrounded by the familiar architecture and tropical plants. And it just so happens that this Friday, I'm going back to Florida with my dad for a week! This is a long overdue vacation, and now that I'm in my late twenties, I have a much greater appreciation for Florida.
What's your favorite vacation spot? Where's your favorite place to go when you need to get away? Any place counts, whether it's Hawaii or the café down the street or even Hogwarts by way of reading. Comment any time before 5:30, and you'll be entered to win an ebook copy of Art of Death! Already commented in the other giveaway thread? Comment here too, and you'll be entered twice!
(P.S. I'm skipping the "chat with the boys of Art of Death" thread, because I think most people here haven't read the book yet, and I don't want to get too spammy on Dreamspinner's page. But if you have a burning question you want to ask one of the boys, feel free to drop it here! Just try to avoid major spoilers.)(giveaway closed)
5pm: Riley's Nude Modeling Session - Art of Death Excerpt - Ana Bosch
Half an hour till the ebook drawing! I can't believe this chat is almost over! I'm sharing another excerpt from Art of Death! Riley poses for a private session for the (amazingly creepy) artist Coliaro.
***
“You’re so tense,” Coliaro said as he adjusted the lighting around Riley. “Are you nervous?”
Riley swallowed, his dry throat clamping shut. He was in Coliaro’s spacious studio, lying atop cushions that were draped with violet silk. Back arched, head tilted back, arms above his head. It was a terribly vulnerable position. Around him were rows of candles that provided the primary light source, with overhead clamp lights to further illuminate the scene.
As Coliaro shifted the light, it aimed briefly into Riley’s eyes. He blinked, large white spots clouding his vision. “I’ve never done a private session before,” he explained to Coliaro. “And never with a famous artist.”
“John Tobias was relatively famous in his day. And he’s quite a bit more critical than I am.” He glanced down at Riley. Riley could almost feel the weight of his eyes as they traveled over his jutting ribs and flat belly. “How’s your back? Good?”
“Mm-hmm.” He swallowed again; he was parched.
After finishing with the lighting, Coliaro began marking portions of the silk around Riley’s body with tape so he could get back into position after his breaks. Riley squirmed a bit; this part always made him feel like a body at a crime scene. Coliaro’s knuckles brushed against him more than a few times, and Riley began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.
“Hold still a moment,” Coliaro said. He reached out, turning Riley’s head slightly to the side and gently arranging his hair across his forehead. The man’s rough fingertips grazed his face. “You have beautiful eyes,” he said. “Emerald. I’m looking forward to bringing out that color in the painting.” He gazed down for another moment. “And such long, dark lashes.”
Riley laughed uneasily. “I swear I’m not wearing mascara. Everyone always thinks I am.”Coliaro gave him a light pat on the cheek. “Either way, you’re stunning.”The man stared at him for another moment, and Riley wondered what he was looking for. His discomfort began to grow, but Coliaro finally took a step back and turned for his easel. After grabbing his palette, he gave Riley a wink. “All right, my dear. Let’s begin.”
***
The moment Coliaro set down his brushes and announced that he had finished, Riley realized he was naked. Granted, he knew that he had been naked for the full three hours, but the candles and the soft music Coliaro had in the background made him feel calm and relaxed. Now, he suddenly felt exposed.
He pulled on his maroon silk robe; then he stood up and began doing stretches to loosen his muscles. As Coliaro stepped back to examine his painting, he said, “You were excellent. Better than this morning. I wouldn’t have believed you’ve only been posing for a few months.”
“I think it helps that I’ve taken so many figure classes as a student,” Riley said. “It’s easier to know what the artist needs if you’ve been one.”
“I could paint you all day,” Coliaro mused, admiring his work. He looked back up at Riley. “Would you like to see?”Riley made his way across the studio, climbing over electrical wires and wooden risers on the way. He braced himself as he stepped up to the canvas and raised his eyes. What he saw made his breath catch. He’d never seen himself in such a way before. He’d always considered himself fairly average and not particularly charismatic, despite Nick’s arguments to the contrary. However, in the image he looked incredibly… sexual. Seductive. He wondered if this was the way Nick saw him.
“You’re so amazing at what you do.”
“Me?” Coliaro asked, brushing him off. “This is all you. This is your essence.”
“You flatter me.”
As Coliaro sat back to admire his work some more, Riley began looking around, checking out the setup of the studio. During the pose, he’d fixed his eyes on the crack between the back wall and the ceiling, occasionally glancing up at the skylight above him. He only hoped one day he’d have the luxury of owning such a spacious and accommodating studio. Considering that Coliaro was known only for his oil paintings, Riley was surprised to see such a variety of tools and media in the room. An airbrush and air compressor, rows of chalk pastels, pads of newsprint, and more occupied the nearby shelves.
Around the corner was a door that was just a crack open. He peered inside tentatively, finding a vast storage area within. There were a couple of unfinished paintings sitting against the sides of the walls. He couldn’t tell in the darkness, but there also looked to be a painting of a fully clothed figure, completed, in an ornate gold frame.“Who’s in that big framed portrait?” he asked, pointing.
Coliaro raised his head, suddenly realizing Riley was looking in his storage area. He leapt across the room, grabbing Riley’s arm and yanking him away from the door.
“Ow!”
“What were you doing in there?”
“I… I wanted to see your works in progress.”
Coliaro let him go, sheepishly running a hand through his thinning hair. “I do apologize for startling you. I show only a select few of my unfinished works to visitors. I’m very self-conscious about some of them, and I don’t like for them to be seen.”
“I was just curious about the framed one. It looked like it was finished. Who’s in it?”
“It’s no one,” Coliaro said curtly. He stepped around Riley, closing the door to the storage room.
Riley’s face flushed. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed to have overstepped Coliaro’s boundaries.
Coliaro let out a deep breath, as if releasing a week’s worth of stress all at once. “It’s all right, my dear. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Glancing down, Riley was surprised to see the beginnings of a deep bruise forming on his forearm. He hadn’t realized Coliaro had gripped him so hard.
“Come here,” Coliaro said, pulling Riley forward gently. He circled around behind him and began rubbing his shoulders through his thin, silky robe.
“What are you doing?”
“The way you reacted to my painting of you, I can tell you don’t recognize your own worth. That’s why you’re always so anxious. I don’t want you to be anxious.” His hands slid down the sides of Riley’s arms, then back up, squeezing at the inner corners of his shoulders. Riley shuddered a bit at the feeling of the man’s hands at the sides of his neck, but he didn’t resist. It felt good, especially after three hours of lying still.“I don’t need to keep this painting. It’s the act of painting itself that gives me my joy and pleasure. I think I’ll donate it to the school. This way you’ll be able to see it anytime, and you’ll be reminded of how magnificent you really are.” His fingers slid down Riley’s back, still massaging, and Riley let out a shaky sigh. The man really was good with his hands.
When he began to feel his blood heating up, he abruptly pulled away. “I should get going,” he gasped. “My boyfriend will be worried if I’m home late.”
Coliaro lifted an eyebrow in response to Riley’s pointed reference to his boyfriend, but he let it pass without comment. “All right, understood. Do you need directions back to your place?”
“No, I know the way.”
“Good, good.” As Riley disappeared into the neighboring dressing room, Coliaro called after him, “By the way, I come to town fairly frequently. I’m flying out in a couple days, but maybe when I return, we can see each other. And maybe even do another painting together.”
As he pulled on his shorts, Riley considered. Coliaro seemed decent enough, albeit a bit more forward than he would have preferred. The massage was unsettling, but as soon as Riley had broken away, the man had let him go without a fuss. And Riley had to admit the thought of another hefty paycheck was a compelling lure.
After slipping his feet into his sandals, he emerged from the room. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
“Great. And how shall I contact you when I’m in town?”
Riley jotted down his home and cell numbers on a spare scrap of paper and handed it to Coliaro. The man folded it up in a clean, precise square and slid it into his pocket.
Riley reached out for a handshake before leaving, and Coliaro instead pulled him into an embrace. After they parted, he gave Riley a gentle smile. “I look forward to the next time we see each other.”
5:30pm: Giveaway Drawing - Ana BoschTime for the giveaway drawing! Thank you so much to everyone who entered! I really enjoyed hearing your guilty pleasures and places to visit. The lucky winner of the Art of Death ebook is… Christine Camellia!
Christine, send me an email at ana (at) bob-artist.com, and let me know the email address you use for your Dreamspinner account so we can add Art of Death to your shelf. If you don't already have an account, it's quick and free to sign up. If you really don't want an account, we can email you the book.
To those of you who didn't win, there are still two more chances to get a free copy of Art of Death! My paperback giveaway on Goodreads ends on 7/25, and you can sign up here:http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/28969-art-of-death
Also, I'll be guest blogging about nude models on Pants Off Reviews on 7/27 to celebrate their one-year anniversary, and I'll be giving away one more ebook copy of Art of Death. Keep an eye out for the post here:http://pantsoffreviews.blogspot.com/
And one last chat topic for the final 1/2 hour: What are you doing this weekend? Any fun plans? I think I'm still going to try to make it to that mustache party…
6pm: Farewell - Ana BoschAll right, it looks like it's time to say goodbye. I do hope some of you will continue to look out for my future projects and upcoming guest appearances. You can keep up by checking me out on twitter @anaboschwriting, or on my blog at http://www.anaboschwriting.com. Also, don't forget to pick up your copy of Art of Death or enter the upcoming giveaways I mentioned in my last post!
I had planned to share some info and an excerpt on Bonds of Death, but again, I don't want to be spammy or put up spoilers none of you can safely read. So I'll put it up on my blog after the chat as an "after-party." :)
I really enjoyed chatting with all of you. I'm so lucky to get to meet so many great people! I do hope to see you all more in the future! Thank you so much to Dreamspinner Press for letting me take over the page today, and thanks to all of you for the best chat ever!
Later, dudes!~Ana
July 24, 2012
Pardon me while I do my happy dance
Art of Death is currently the #1 paperback on Dreamspinner Press's site.
Crazy? Yeah.
Also, all books are 25% off on Dreamspinner Press's site until the end of July, so now would be a great time to catch up on your shopping!
On a side note, there's an ice cream truck driving around outside. It feels like 20 years ago. :)
Crazy? Yeah.
Also, all books are 25% off on Dreamspinner Press's site until the end of July, so now would be a great time to catch up on your shopping!
On a side note, there's an ice cream truck driving around outside. It feels like 20 years ago. :)
July 23, 2012
Happiness is Paperbacks
First off, Art of Death is currently the #3 paperback on Dreamspinner Press's website. That kind of boggles my mind, especially since the ebook is nowhere near as high in the respective rankings. I have no complaints, but I have to wonder what's driving the paperback sales when paperbacks are so much more expensive than ebooks. A friend told me it might be because of the cover art. If that's the case, I should give that "Shobana Appavu" chick a pat on the back. ;) Better yet, I think I'll buy her dinner tomorrow. Actually, I'll go ahead and buy her the vast majority of her dinners for the rest of her life, and pay all her bills. I like that Shobana person. She's quality.
:ahem: My own five author copies arrived in the mail a couple days ago. I was a little bummed that the corners of all five copies were badly creased in shipping, so I bought a couple more on Amazon just so I'd have a flawless copy to keep. Oh well, this just means I can do more giveaways, and I can make up for the creased corners by adding some pretty drawings inside.
I think this is my version of when people photograph sports cars with bikini-clad models posed on the hoods. That's Ebo, currently a little crabby and wondering why I woke him up for no good reason. It was actually a very risky photo shoot because one of Ebo's biggest hobbies is eating books. Almost all of my favorite books have Ebo-sized bites taken out of the covers.
The cover printed a bit on the magenta side, but overall I'm pleased with the outcome, and it's kind of surreal seeing my fingerprints all over Riley's face. Also surreal is seeing the names of my characters printed on actual paper.
And finally in paperbacks, over 800 people are now requesting the Goodreads paperback giveaway for Art of Death. A lot of the askers don't seem to be m/m readers, so in a way I feel like I'm trading a future 1-star review for a bit of increased visibility, but that's fine by me. I think part of the journey of publishing your first book is wading through the sea of readers with their own specific tastes and trying to find the ones who match up with what you want to say. I like to push boundaries and write on the fringe of the genre, so I expect a little trial and error.
:ahem: My own five author copies arrived in the mail a couple days ago. I was a little bummed that the corners of all five copies were badly creased in shipping, so I bought a couple more on Amazon just so I'd have a flawless copy to keep. Oh well, this just means I can do more giveaways, and I can make up for the creased corners by adding some pretty drawings inside.
I think this is my version of when people photograph sports cars with bikini-clad models posed on the hoods. That's Ebo, currently a little crabby and wondering why I woke him up for no good reason. It was actually a very risky photo shoot because one of Ebo's biggest hobbies is eating books. Almost all of my favorite books have Ebo-sized bites taken out of the covers.
The cover printed a bit on the magenta side, but overall I'm pleased with the outcome, and it's kind of surreal seeing my fingerprints all over Riley's face. Also surreal is seeing the names of my characters printed on actual paper.
And finally in paperbacks, over 800 people are now requesting the Goodreads paperback giveaway for Art of Death. A lot of the askers don't seem to be m/m readers, so in a way I feel like I'm trading a future 1-star review for a bit of increased visibility, but that's fine by me. I think part of the journey of publishing your first book is wading through the sea of readers with their own specific tastes and trying to find the ones who match up with what you want to say. I like to push boundaries and write on the fringe of the genre, so I expect a little trial and error.
July 21, 2012
Meet the Author on Facebook - The After-Party
I just wrapped up an amazing chat on Dreamspinner Press's Facebook page to celebrate the release of Art of Death! I'd promised to share a preview of the sequel, Bonds of Death, which is due out in October, but due to timing and the desire to not spoil the story for anyone, I decided to post it here.
Sequel Preview: Bonds of DeathWhat's better than a book about nude modeling and the undead? TWO books about nude modeling and the undead! Bonds of Death, the sequel to Art of Death is scheduled for an October release. As we learned in Art of Death, the undead grow stronger when they take on human worshippers. Since each undead has a weakness that could potentially kill them for good, sometimes a human worshipper is the only thing that can help them resist an attack targeting their weakness. So what happens when the headstrong Riley is asked to worship his undead lover in order to save his life?
Featured in Bonds of Death: a copycat murderer, assassination attempts on Westwood, creepy baby dolls, martial arts training for a certain guy who likes to get himself into trouble, and :gasp: a love interest for Porter!
Excuse me while I leave this excerpt here… (Beware, this hasn't been through the editors yet. Also, SPOILER ALERT: you may not want to read this if you haven't finished Art of Death yet.)
Also, a bit of irony - about a month after I wrote this scene, my drawing tablet died and I had to drop $500 to replace it. :sigh:
***
Riley had intended to go straight home from the bar, but the crates of watermelons outside the entrance to Whole Foods caught his eye. On a whim, he steered his bike into the parking lot, pulling up alongside the crates and contemplating whether or not to go inside the store.
As much as it pained him to admit it, he was spoiled. While he lived with Nick, they only bought organic groceries. His relationship with food was fickle to begin with; even when he ate organic, he was likely to get nauseous over unexpected abnormalities on his plate. Dry hulls in his oatmeal made him gag. Stray bones and tendons in his meat were worse. As picky as he was with his organic meals, he was terrified of what he might find within the depths of a conventional apple or cut of corn-fed beef.
But alas, he couldn’t justify the expense of going inside the shop. He knew how it always went: he’d start by eyeing the rows of pretty vegetables, trying to decide which one or two to buy as a special treat, only to end up at the cash register with an overflowing basket and a fifty-dollar receipt. Resigned, he turned away and pedaled the rest of the way home.
He returned to a dark apartment and pulled open the kitchen cabinets. It would be another night of generic spaghetti with generic tomato sauce. There was a single cucumber in the vegetable drawer. He pulled it out and checked it for mold before setting it on the cutting board.
“Did you just get in?”
Riley jumped, crashing back against the fridge and knocking his head. “Shit, Westwood!” he gasped, squinting at the shadowed figure that had stepped out of his bedroom.
“What?”
Riley rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t mind you breaking into the apartment, but don’t do it when I’m not home.” He turned away, pulling open a drawer and grabbing a knife to cut the cucumber. “I wouldn’t be totally opposed to you calling and letting me know you’re on your way over here, either.”
“It’s more fun this way.”
“It’s all fun and games until someone has a heart attack.” Riley quickly chopped the cucumber and set it aside, then retrieved a pot and filled it with water. “And what if I want to reach you? When are you going to give me your cell number?”
“You don’t need my cell number.”
“Of course I don’t. We’ve only been sleeping together for six months. Why would I need your number?” He cranked up the heat on the gas stove, listening to it click several times before finally igniting. “I went to the bar on Ballard. Quinn said Porter hasn’t shown up for work in two days. I tried to text him, and he sent back a really short message saying something came up.” He turned. “I know this is a long shot, but have you heard from him?”
Westwood shook his head. He continued to watch Riley in the kitchen as if he were putting on a show.
Riley reached for one of the top cabinets and looked inside. He couldn’t find the spaghetti. He frowned, feeling around like a raccoon in the dark. He came up with a nearly empty bag of rice that Porter had bought from an Indian grocer in Tampa, but no pasta. “Damn it!” he groaned, slinging the bag of rice onto the counter. He slid down to the ground, sitting on the floor and rubbing his temples.
“What are you doing?” Westwood asked curiously.
“Nothing.” Riley yanked on his hair and then scrubbed his face. He tried to reason with himself, tried to talk himself out of disappointment. Maybe rice and tomato sauce won’t be disgusting. Maybe it’ll be surprisingly wonderful.
Westwood stepped around the corner and into the kitchen, where he could finally see Riley sitting hunched on the floor with his forehead resting on his knees. “What? You don’t have food in the house?”
“I thought I had an extra box of pasta, but now I remember putting the second one back at the grocery store because I was twenty cents short.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “I’d kill for some sautéed halibut right now.”
“Where would you get that?”
“Nick’s house.”
Westwood took a seat on the floor beside Riley, humoring him. He wrapped an arm around Riley’s waist and pulled him close. Despite himself, Riley turned toward him, pressing his face into the crook of Westwood’s neck and taking in his earthy scent. “My drawing tablet quit on me last month. It cost almost five hundred dollars to replace it. I figured, ‘no big deal; I’ll pick up some extra jobs, and I won’t buy meat for the rest of the year’. But it’s not so easy to find extra jobs, and damn, I miss meat.”
Westwood laughed softly and gave Riley a squeeze.
A thought popped into Riley’s mind, and he perked up. “Hey—do you know what kind of food they serve at a wights-only party?”
Westwood suddenly pulled back, a startled expression on his face as he stared down at Riley. “What?”
“I got invited to a wights-only party in a couple weeks. I wonder what type of food they’d have there? It’s not the type of thing to have a cover charge, is it?”
“Why are you suddenly asking about wights-only parties? Who invited you?”
“That guy—Thackary Jones.”
Westwood’s lips pressed into a tight frown. He pulled further away from Riley and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you want to go to that kind of a party?”
“Because I’m hungry.” When it became clear that Westwood expected a more thorough explanation, he continued. “It’s not that I ‘want’ to go so badly. But I got invited, and if there’s going to be free food, I don’t see why I shouldn’t go.”
“The only reason to go to a wights-only party is if you plan on accepting one of the undead as your liege. That means you perform their ritual and start worshipping them. Is that really what you want to do?”
“Can’t I just go and see who’s there and find out what their rituals are, and then say I’m not interested? And maybe eat some of their food while I’m there?”
“Good luck coming out of a wights-only party unattached.” Westwood raised his eyebrows. “At a typical wights-only party, the undead outnumber the humans three to one, sometimes more. And they’re all desperate for new worshippers. The undead want human worshippers because each ritual the human performs makes them stronger. They’re not going to let you out of there without performing a ritual.” He grumbled under his breath. “But I don’t see why Thackary still does those parties. He has enough humans already. And I don’t see why he invited you personally.”
“He seemed to know who I was. He asked if I was friends with you.”
Westwood set his jaw. Abruptly, he stood up. “Your water’s boiling,” he said before heading into the bedroom. Moments later, Riley heard the bedroom window slam shut.
Sequel Preview: Bonds of DeathWhat's better than a book about nude modeling and the undead? TWO books about nude modeling and the undead! Bonds of Death, the sequel to Art of Death is scheduled for an October release. As we learned in Art of Death, the undead grow stronger when they take on human worshippers. Since each undead has a weakness that could potentially kill them for good, sometimes a human worshipper is the only thing that can help them resist an attack targeting their weakness. So what happens when the headstrong Riley is asked to worship his undead lover in order to save his life?
Featured in Bonds of Death: a copycat murderer, assassination attempts on Westwood, creepy baby dolls, martial arts training for a certain guy who likes to get himself into trouble, and :gasp: a love interest for Porter!
Excuse me while I leave this excerpt here… (Beware, this hasn't been through the editors yet. Also, SPOILER ALERT: you may not want to read this if you haven't finished Art of Death yet.)
Also, a bit of irony - about a month after I wrote this scene, my drawing tablet died and I had to drop $500 to replace it. :sigh:
***
Riley had intended to go straight home from the bar, but the crates of watermelons outside the entrance to Whole Foods caught his eye. On a whim, he steered his bike into the parking lot, pulling up alongside the crates and contemplating whether or not to go inside the store.
As much as it pained him to admit it, he was spoiled. While he lived with Nick, they only bought organic groceries. His relationship with food was fickle to begin with; even when he ate organic, he was likely to get nauseous over unexpected abnormalities on his plate. Dry hulls in his oatmeal made him gag. Stray bones and tendons in his meat were worse. As picky as he was with his organic meals, he was terrified of what he might find within the depths of a conventional apple or cut of corn-fed beef.
But alas, he couldn’t justify the expense of going inside the shop. He knew how it always went: he’d start by eyeing the rows of pretty vegetables, trying to decide which one or two to buy as a special treat, only to end up at the cash register with an overflowing basket and a fifty-dollar receipt. Resigned, he turned away and pedaled the rest of the way home.
He returned to a dark apartment and pulled open the kitchen cabinets. It would be another night of generic spaghetti with generic tomato sauce. There was a single cucumber in the vegetable drawer. He pulled it out and checked it for mold before setting it on the cutting board.
“Did you just get in?”
Riley jumped, crashing back against the fridge and knocking his head. “Shit, Westwood!” he gasped, squinting at the shadowed figure that had stepped out of his bedroom.
“What?”
Riley rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t mind you breaking into the apartment, but don’t do it when I’m not home.” He turned away, pulling open a drawer and grabbing a knife to cut the cucumber. “I wouldn’t be totally opposed to you calling and letting me know you’re on your way over here, either.”
“It’s more fun this way.”
“It’s all fun and games until someone has a heart attack.” Riley quickly chopped the cucumber and set it aside, then retrieved a pot and filled it with water. “And what if I want to reach you? When are you going to give me your cell number?”
“You don’t need my cell number.”
“Of course I don’t. We’ve only been sleeping together for six months. Why would I need your number?” He cranked up the heat on the gas stove, listening to it click several times before finally igniting. “I went to the bar on Ballard. Quinn said Porter hasn’t shown up for work in two days. I tried to text him, and he sent back a really short message saying something came up.” He turned. “I know this is a long shot, but have you heard from him?”
Westwood shook his head. He continued to watch Riley in the kitchen as if he were putting on a show.
Riley reached for one of the top cabinets and looked inside. He couldn’t find the spaghetti. He frowned, feeling around like a raccoon in the dark. He came up with a nearly empty bag of rice that Porter had bought from an Indian grocer in Tampa, but no pasta. “Damn it!” he groaned, slinging the bag of rice onto the counter. He slid down to the ground, sitting on the floor and rubbing his temples.
“What are you doing?” Westwood asked curiously.
“Nothing.” Riley yanked on his hair and then scrubbed his face. He tried to reason with himself, tried to talk himself out of disappointment. Maybe rice and tomato sauce won’t be disgusting. Maybe it’ll be surprisingly wonderful.
Westwood stepped around the corner and into the kitchen, where he could finally see Riley sitting hunched on the floor with his forehead resting on his knees. “What? You don’t have food in the house?”
“I thought I had an extra box of pasta, but now I remember putting the second one back at the grocery store because I was twenty cents short.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “I’d kill for some sautéed halibut right now.”
“Where would you get that?”
“Nick’s house.”
Westwood took a seat on the floor beside Riley, humoring him. He wrapped an arm around Riley’s waist and pulled him close. Despite himself, Riley turned toward him, pressing his face into the crook of Westwood’s neck and taking in his earthy scent. “My drawing tablet quit on me last month. It cost almost five hundred dollars to replace it. I figured, ‘no big deal; I’ll pick up some extra jobs, and I won’t buy meat for the rest of the year’. But it’s not so easy to find extra jobs, and damn, I miss meat.”
Westwood laughed softly and gave Riley a squeeze.
A thought popped into Riley’s mind, and he perked up. “Hey—do you know what kind of food they serve at a wights-only party?”
Westwood suddenly pulled back, a startled expression on his face as he stared down at Riley. “What?”
“I got invited to a wights-only party in a couple weeks. I wonder what type of food they’d have there? It’s not the type of thing to have a cover charge, is it?”
“Why are you suddenly asking about wights-only parties? Who invited you?”
“That guy—Thackary Jones.”
Westwood’s lips pressed into a tight frown. He pulled further away from Riley and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you want to go to that kind of a party?”
“Because I’m hungry.” When it became clear that Westwood expected a more thorough explanation, he continued. “It’s not that I ‘want’ to go so badly. But I got invited, and if there’s going to be free food, I don’t see why I shouldn’t go.”
“The only reason to go to a wights-only party is if you plan on accepting one of the undead as your liege. That means you perform their ritual and start worshipping them. Is that really what you want to do?”
“Can’t I just go and see who’s there and find out what their rituals are, and then say I’m not interested? And maybe eat some of their food while I’m there?”
“Good luck coming out of a wights-only party unattached.” Westwood raised his eyebrows. “At a typical wights-only party, the undead outnumber the humans three to one, sometimes more. And they’re all desperate for new worshippers. The undead want human worshippers because each ritual the human performs makes them stronger. They’re not going to let you out of there without performing a ritual.” He grumbled under his breath. “But I don’t see why Thackary still does those parties. He has enough humans already. And I don’t see why he invited you personally.”
“He seemed to know who I was. He asked if I was friends with you.”
Westwood set his jaw. Abruptly, he stood up. “Your water’s boiling,” he said before heading into the bedroom. Moments later, Riley heard the bedroom window slam shut.
July 20, 2012
“Meet the Author” on Facebook - Tomorrow’s Schedule
Don't forget to join me for a chat at Dreamspinner Press's Facebook page tomorrow, July 21, from 1pm-6pm ET, in celebration of my new release, Art of Death. There will be conversation, ebook giveaways, excerpts, m/m-themed sketch requests, and more!
RSVP here, or just show up tomorrow!
Don't have five hours to spare? It's all good. Drop in for a few minutes and say hi, or throw your name into the giveaway drawing!
Tentative schedule:
1:00 - Introductions: About me, about Art of Death, and about you
1:30 - Sketch requests/Ask Anything thread. Request an m/m themed sketch in honor of the "art" theme behind Art of Death, or ask any question you have on your mind.
2:30 - GIVEAWAY: comment to enter. "Guilty Pleasures."
3:30 - Books from your childhood/your first favorite books
4:00 - Chat with the boys of Art of Death. Ask them whatever you want!
4:30 - GIVEAWAY: comment to enter. "Places to Visit" - favorite real and fictional locations
5:00 - Sequel Preview: Bonds of Death (with excerpt)
5:30 - Sketch requests revealed, Giveaway winner revealed, upcoming events
July 18, 2012
Meet me this Saturday! Also, giveaways!
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px;
font-style: normal; background: white; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget img { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0 !important; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget a { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0; color: #660; text-decoration: none; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:visted { color: #660; text-decoration: none; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:hover { color: #660; text-decoration: underline !important; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidget p { margin: 0 0 .5em !important; padding: 0; }
.goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink { display: block; width: 150px; margin: 10px auto 0 !important; padding: 0px 5px !important;
text-align: center; line-height: 1.8em; color: #222; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold;
border: 1px solid #6A6454; -moz-border-radius: 5px; -webkit-border-radius: 5px; font-family:arial,verdana,helvetica,sans-serif;
background-image:url(http://www.goodreads.com/images/layou... background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color:#BBB596;
outline: 0; white-space: nowrap;
}
.goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink:hover { background-image:url(http://www.goodreads.com/images/layou...
color: black; text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer;
}
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Art of Death
by Ana Bosch
Giveaway ends July 25, 2012.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Enter to win
That's right, I'm giving away a signed paperback copy of Art of Death! You know you want to enter! :)
Also, this Saturday from 1pm to 6pm ET, I'll be chatting on Dreamspinner Press's Facebook page. Drop in and stay as long as you'd like. There will be an ebook giveaway, some interesting conversation, excerpts of Art of Death AND the upcoming sequel, and in honor of the "art" theme of the book, I'll be taking sketch requests and posting them at the end of the event. Please come and say hi; I really look forward to meeting all of you!
