Renae Kaye's Blog, page 19

A beautiful taste of what's to come

My apologies for not blogging for a while.  I was hit with a dreaded flu – thankfully short, but more severe than I usually get.  I have asthma and these sort of colds always leave me with breathing problems for the week following. 

So I was crawling out of my sickness hole, only to stumble into a deeper than usual editing hole. Then the following day I received a second lot of edits – proofing this time.  I was in way over my head and it has taken me 12 days to work through it.  Bad news for me, but good news to readers as that is TWO new manuscripts that have progressed closer to publication.

So today’s blog is dedicated to the thing I haven’t done for 12 days – reading for pleasure.  I wish to tell you what I am looking forward to reading.

A Taste Of Honey, A Dreamspinner Anthology
Release date: 18 August 2014

Blurb:  In the mood to try something sweet? How about a collection of stories about bears and the special men in their lives? Guys don’t have to be in their twenties, perfectly sculpted, and hairless to be hot. Bears are real men with real bodies—and that doesn’t always mean a perfect six-pack or an immaculately smooth chest. With bears, it can mean more man to love. The men in this anthology are chubs, cubs, grizzlies, pandas, polar bears, and more—all looking for a connection. And beneath their burly physiques are hearts of gold. Explore the bear scene and beyond with these big, hairy guys and the men who find them irresistibly sexy.

For those who are anticipating this, I wish to brag that I have an advance release… For those who are upset by this, don’t be. I’ve been so bloomin’ busy I haven’t had the time to read it!

One of my stories is in here, but I haven’t read the others.  I’m really excited about this.  I was chatting to another author today and I said that the hardest part is going to be not skipping ahead to read my favourite authors.  I have been waiting for this one since February.  I saw the submission call from Dreamspinner and got all excited.  Yay!  Bear stories!  Yes, okay, so I ended up writing my own submission and sending it in, but I'm more excited about the other stories.

Pre-order from Dreamspinner here. Time for Destiny, by Michelle Rae
Release date:  22 August 2014

Blurb:  When Daniel Wilson, oldest of five children in a troubled family, joined the military, he expected to see combat in Iraq. But it comes as quite a shock when a Rupee minted a century and a half ago transports him to that dangerous time in war-torn colonial India. After he meets and falls in love with Vir during his visit to 1857, he faces the greatest challenge of his life. He knows he may ultimately lose Vir because he belongs in a different time. Still, he wants desperately to keep his love alive despite threats of violence from both wars.

I’m so excited about this one.  There are a lot of things drawing me to this book.  First the cover is beautiful!  But then we’re talking about being transported back to the past.  This gets my heart racing with anticipation.  For me, I would love to be able to go back and experience certain times in the past, so reading about it is always fun.  And if it’s done well, it’s brilliant.  I managed to ask Michelle about her inspiration for the book:

Michelle says: Time for Destiny came about when a good friend requested a time travel story. Her first suggestion was the early Victorian era but I felt that had been done to death. While at work and talking to a fellow worker, he suggested somewhere exotic. After a brief search of Indian history the story was born. Originally written for the 2012 National Novel Writers month, Time for Destiny underwent 15 edits before being picked up. The most challenging part came at this stage. Although I felt I’d covered the past well, my wonderful editor found conflicting differences with the references she had used from the past. It was at this point I had to decide if I made the story more fantasy or use actual facts. I chose to use actual facts from the past and this meant some big rewrites, and a lot more research. The end product was a wonderful story about love between two wars and the two men who lived in different worlds. The opportunity to be published professionally was an amazing experience and I learned a lot about how I wrote and how to be better.

OMG!  From this amount of effort, I’m sure this book is going to be FANTASTIC!

Pre-order from Dreamspinner here.
Michelle's website here.
Michelle's FB here. Walkabout, by Jack Byrne
Release date:  27th August 2014

Blurb:  In New South Wales, Australia, in 1876, sweating out a living from the savage, dry wilderness tests a man’s worth. Cattleman Jim Kelly gave up everything he knew to outrun the law with his lover Mark Turner. Struggling to survive, the two turn to crime and venture farther into the harsh outback. And while Jim is enthralled by Mark’s almost paranormal strength and physical power, he starts to question his love after seeing Mark’s explosive temper first hand.

Okay, so I’ve already admitted my love for the past.  So what if you throw in another favourite element?  Australia. 
I love reading stories set in my homeland.  So when Jack Byrne wrote Billabong and it was released November 2013, I snapped it up.  I loved it – but where did it leave Jim and Mark?  So in annoyance I wrote to the author and got grumpy.  He assured me there were TWO sequels.  But I just had to wait.  Patience is not my strong point.

So I will be counting down the days to this one too.  Walkabout will be out in a couple of weeks, and then we will be waiting for #3.  Am I the only one who wishes authors could write faster?

Pre-order from Dreamspinner here.
Jack's website here.
Jack's FB here.

Prostituting myself

Back in January 2013, I was at a major crossroad in my life. 

In my early 20s, I’d given up my degree in order to work, so hubby could finish his degree.  The two of us spent the next six years paying off our mortgage, renovating our house and saving for the day we’d have kids.  We both agreed that we wanted me to stay at home and not work while the children were little, and in this economic climate, that takes some sacrifice.

We’ve done everything we said we would, and I am enormously proud of the both of us.  But there was something looming I had not considered: re-entering the workforce.

I had been stewing over it for months.  In February 2015, my youngest child will start full-time school, and we had agreed that I would attempt to secure part-time work at that time.  Just a few days a week.  Nothing huge.  But my problem was, what did I wish to do?

Back in January 2013, I had spent months of soul searching.  At that stage I had two years to plan, and I was weighing up the options of returning to university.  I could perhaps complete a couple of units over the two years to get a head start.  Is that what I wanted to do?  I could finish my Physics/Chemistry double degree and then do a year of Education, and become a high school science teacher.  Or I could try something completely different.  Psychology interested me, as did Nursing.  But it would mean I would spend at least four more years not working, and end up with a debt of at least $60K for fees.  I needed to go back to work for money, not put us deeper in debt.

My other option was I could just re-enter the workforce doing what I had been doing previously.  I had experience in retail, and had also worked in administration and finance roles.  The pay wouldn’t be fantastic, but I didn’t care about that.  But did I want to do that until retirement age?
Then a crazy idea occurred to me.  Maybe I could write a book?

Not that I’d ever written anything in my life, apart from a couple of plays for the kids to perform at church.  But the idea wouldn’t go away.  I had a look at how much authors earned and was not cheered.  But the damn idea would not go away!

I was at home, so I had occasional free time, I could do it.  It would take me some practice (if I had any sort of talent), but I’d never know until I tried.  I didn’t have to earn big bucks, just some.  I didn’t have to be famous.  I didn’t need anything more than a computer to start me off.  So I decided to try.  I gave myself 24 months to learn how to write a story, and get something that was decent enough for a publisher.  I gave myself until January 2015.

I wanted to dive directly into m/m romance, but I was nervous – what did I really know about it?  I am female, and straight at that.  So instead I wrote a cute little story I called Windmills Of My Mind.  It's m/f, and it's a sweet and humorous little tale of a girl who falls in love with the boy next door, the one she’d always considered a brother.

My BFF loved it, and demanded another, this time starring the next brother.  I hesitated, but could see the value of a series.  I would write #2 and then submit both to a publisher, along with outlines for #’s 3-5.  So I stowed it and left it until I had written #2.

Unfortunately, the next book to come gushing forth was Loving Jay.  Then The Blinding Light.  I was on an m/m roll, and was completely shocked when they were both contracted by Dreamspinner.  I was ecstatic and concentrated on more m/m, deliberately ignoring Windmills and its sequel.
But it was around, and my BFF kept asking about it.  Finally, in June 2014, I tidied up the manuscript and sent it off to a publisher for consideration.  This morning I received a very nice email back, saying that they like my writing style, but the book doesn’t have enough sex in it for them.  If I put more sex in, they will take it.

I was expecting that, so it didn’t come as a big shock.  I’d felt it too.  It was my first book, and I wasn’t writing about sex, more about story.  There is sex in the story, it just doesn’t happen immediately.  It’s my first reject letter, but I’m not upset.  I’m more perplexed as to what to do with this manuscript now.

It seems that sex sells.

Yes – that is a huge newsflash for everyone, I’m sure.  But it does beg the question, is there an audience for books without sex?

I admit that I like sex in the books I read – not sex for sex’s sake, but it’s just that, in this day and age, a relationship without sex is odd.  I like a couple of full-on sex-in-your-face novels, the same as the rest of us, but there doesn’t have to be sixty-page descriptions of every single position the MCs tried in order to keep my attention.

When you have a look at many of the websites (publishers and eBook sellers), it becomes apparent immediately that the sex in the books drives the sales.  Many of the websites not only give the books a star rating, but also a heat rating to show the spice.  eBooks are great for readers who like spice, but don’t want to purchase them from the local Target store while everyone watches.  So if you have a non-spicy novel, what are your options?  The answer?  Very few.  The bigger publishers do these books, but competition is fierce and cut-throat.  Only the best of the best get a look in.  In Australia, the pond is smaller again.

So I have a choice – I can cut the sex that is there and try for more mainstream publishers who prefer their manuscripts pretty and clean, or I can throw in more sex and re-submit to this publisher.

Choices, choices, choices.

It does seem to me that it’s a little like prostitution in a laughable way – give them sex and I get the job.  But at the end of the day, it’s the readers who provide payment, so we have to give them what they want.  So yes, you need to put out to get paid.

So what will I do?  I’ll pack up Windmills into a box (or a folder in my computer) and leave it for another year.  Perhaps one day I will try again.  It’s a cute little story.  I like it.  I’ll re-read it.  And I’ll always remember it was my first.  My first novel written, my first novel rejected, my first novel I had no idea what to do with.

Everyone has a first they can’t forget.

Update on my authoring

Waiting.  Does it seem to you like we spend our whole lives waiting?  We wait in line at the supermarket to pay.  We wait on the telephone for someone to stop the really annoying on-hold music and talk to us.  We wait for the doctor.  We wait for Christmas.  We wait…

To me, this week it feels like I am waiting for everything!

My second novel, The Blinding Light was released and I have been waiting for the reviews to come in.  Reviews and sales have been fantastic and I am Completely. Blown. Away. by the response I’ve received to this novel.  I thank every single one of my readers.  You guys ROCK!

Despite this excitement, I’m still waiting.  Firstly I’m waiting for my sales statement from my publisher.  They are distributed quarterly, and I am jumping out of my skin to feel like a “real” author.  Yes – you read that correctly.  Because, you see, I am a newbie to this writing gig.  Loving Jay was my first novel and it was only released in April.  So I’m waiting for my statement so that I feel like a real author.
I’m also waiting on the release of my short story in the anthology, A Taste Of Honey.  It’s due out on the 18th of August.  It is the only short story I’ve written, and I’ll be very interested to see what people say about it.  I’m used to fleshing out a character and having them slowly fall in love, so how will a short story go over?

My next novel is called The Shearing Gun and will be coming out in September.  So I’m gearing up for that.  Editing is complete, but I still have to do my galley proofs, so once again I’m waiting.  Waiting.

I have another novel after that (yes!  I’ve been a busy girl!).  It has just hit editing and my editor emailed me this morning to say she is starting on it.  So now I’m waiting for first edits…

You would think that was enough, yes?  But no, no, no.

I’ve recently written a funny romance called Shawn’s Law.  I wanted to see how many Australian animals and insects I could get to attack my MC before the end of the book.  Relax!  He survives them all.  He needs someone to kiss the boo-boo better sometimes, but he is still there in the end. I’ve submitted this to my publisher, and yes, once again I’m waiting…  This time for a response.  (Fingers crossed!)
Once upon a time (before Loving Jay) I wrote a humorous m/f romance.  I submitted it to a large publisher and got the dreaded silence…  You know?  No acknowledgement of receiving the manuscript, no rejection because it doesn’t quite fit with their publication guidelines, no I’m-sorry-you-can’t-even-write-a-shopping-list email.  Just silence.  (Big publishers are so big, they don’t need to do acknowledgement).  So after licking my wounds, I smartened up the story and resubmitted elsewhere.  I’m waiting for that one too…

Waiting…  I feel like Christmas will come first before some of these.

While I’m waiting, I’ve been dabbling away at two new stories.  I’m not sure how they will work out – if they will even get finished at the rate I’ve been working.  But one of them is a spin-off from Loving Jay.   Jay and Liam appear as the supportive friends to a new character called Kee.  He’s trying to find his way back to the “dating scene” after a bad breakup.  Jay has a lot of advice for him.  A lot.  You know Jay.  He never can keep his mouth shut.

My other WIP is a more serious story that is a spin-off from my novel which will be released at the end of this year.  It’s a tough story, and I’m struggling to describe the depths of my MC’s emotions when it comes to the fact that he would rather be married to a woman he doesn’t love, than be out of the closet and free.  All because of his children.  That love we bear for our children cannot be lightly taken. 

So all in all, I am very busy on all author fronts.  This has been a rather boring blog, but I thought I would update the people on what I’m up to.

Now I will go back to waiting, and pull up my WIP and get busy.

(PS – I have a big surprise coming tomorrow.  So stick around to see it!)

Appearances can be deceiving

Today I met with a friend who is transitioning from male to female.  I listened as she told me the troubles she is going through with her family.  Although she has been dealing with this problem her whole life, she has only come out to her family eight months ago.

She sat them down just before Christmas and told them she had made the decision to become a woman.

They were understandably upset and confused, and now eight months later, some of them are still struggling.  Mostly because they had no hint of this previously.  To me, I suspected some four months ago, but we have only been acquainted for three years, not fifty, so I simply shrugged when I heard the news and congratulated her.

Over coffee, I shared the news of this person’s transition with my BFF.  One of my BFF’s questions was, “So is he… she… a lesbian now?  If he’s now a woman, does he… uh, she… go for guys or girls?”

I have to admit I don’t know.  It’s a bit of a personal question, isn’t it?

I guess the whole thing comes down to the fact that transitioning from one gender to another has nothing to do with sexual orientation.  In my opinion, your sexual orientation is what you like in other people.  Your gender is what you feel on the inside of you.

But no matter what her preference in other people, asking is one of those no-no questions.  It ranks right up there with asking a gay couple who is the bottom in the relationship.  You just don’t ask.  If they are happy to volunteer the information, then okay, but otherwise, what they do in the privacy of their bedroom is up to them.

I’m always bemused at the thought that people feel they have to right to ask those sort of questions.  The only time I’ve ever had to answer questions about my own sex life was when my father demanded to know if I was still a virgin after meeting my new (and first) boyfriend (cringe! Thx Dad!), and when my doctor was trying to work out the due dates of my children.  In a way, I’m lucky to be heterosexual.

I often wonder how hard it is for some guys to come out to their family.  A group of us mothers met over the recent school holidays for a play-date in the park.  While chatting, two mothers admitted they were already wondering about their sons, as both boys show a determined liking for fairies, glitter, tutus and dresses.  Since these children in question are only four, I’m a little sceptical, but I do wonder about mothers who suspect their child is gay from a young age.  It is probably easier for those boys.

I would have to imagine it is the “manly men” who have trouble telling their family.  These are the ones whose family would say, “But you don’t look gay!”  Just like my transitioning friend, whose family said, “But you don’t dress like a woman!”  Well, no.  She doesn’t because her genitalia and society said that it was wrong to wear her hair like that and paint her fingernails.  She has finally gathered the courage to give a middle finger to the world and break out the nail polish and hair spray (along with pantyhose, high-heels and lipstick!)

Dreamspinner have a new Anthology coming out – it’s called A Taste of Honey.  It’s about bears.  No, not real bears, or shifter bears, but men who call themselves bears.  It’s a form of recognition of a certain type of gay man – one who is happy being hairy and having a real body, not necessarily one that is muscled or svelte.  Yes, you heard right.  They are big and hairy and gay.  And most importantly – happy to be this way.

There may be a small offering in this Anthology from me, but I’m more interested in the other stories.  I already know what my story is about.  I want to know about the others!  I wonder if any of them tackle the issue of manly men coming out to their family?  I can’t wait!
A Taste of Honey
Anthology from Dreamspinner

Link for pre-release order

Bear Chasing, by Renae Kaye
Skinny, geeky, and socially awkward, Neil lives with his sister and spends most of his time on the computer.  When three guys move into the house across the street, Neil is fascinated, especially with big, hairy Brett. One morning, Brett leaves Neil with a single word: woof.  Neil is excited and uncertain about the unfamiliar term, but Brett is there to introduce Neil to a world he never knew existed.

Those feelings you get

I had no idea of what to blog, and I know that my millions of followers are just dying to know my thoughts, so I decided I’d write them down, because in a week I won’t remember them.  A week is a very long time – 7 days, 168 hours, 10,080 minutes or at least 22 coffees away.

I’m having those feelings.  You know?  Those feelings?  Unless you have written a book and have waited anxiously for your release day, then you won’t know exactly how I feel.  For those who have written a book, then perhaps your will recognise your own feelings in mine as I try to explain them.

Overwhelmingly there is the nervousness – the fear of the unknown, but hoping for the best.  How will the readers react to my story?  Will they like it?  Love it?  Loathe it?  Want to marry it and have its babies?  You know that some people with hate it – it’s a given and you prepare yourself for it – but will the majority favour or frown on it?

The public is a fickle lover and you never can tell.

That nervousness goes deep.  The Blinding Light is due out in less than 42 hours, and that nervousness is on the surface of everything I do.  Not as bad as my first release, that is true, but still there.

So you psych yourself – you tell yourself that it’s okay if this one bombs.  You tell yourself that you’ve done a fantastic job no matter what the response to your book is.  You tell yourself that your family loves you, and will love you no matter if you are a great author, or just a ho-hum author.  You tell yourself you can move to the outer suburbs of Antarctica and live off fish if you need to run away in embarrassment.
Despite the nervousness, you do feel pride.  Pride that you have accomplished such a deed.  I know that there are many, many authors out there, but I have made a journey that most people on the street have not.  I have had a great book idea; I’ve burned the midnight oil to cherish it into fruition; I’ve chopped, changed and edited that baby within an inch of its life; I’ve gathered my courage and sent it to a publisher for judgement; and I’ve then sat through the edits while it was torn apart and put back together.  I’ve done the hard yards for my creation – now I need to watch it flutter into the world on those wings I’ve created.  I’m nervous, that is true, but I’m also proud.

But through those nerves and pulses of pride, there is a sense of calm.  This is a good book.  It will be fine.  If an author didn’t have that feeling, then the book would have never been submitted to a publisher.  You know your baby is good – down deep, each author knows this.  But you want your baby to shimmer, sparkle and shine.  You want them to be revered and reread.  You want the reader to have such a good time, that your name is entered in their family bible because they want you to be a part of their lives.

You are excited, too.  Excited for yourself, excited for your readers, excited for your book.   Something that didn’t exist a year ago, a single thought, has been immortalised onto paper in the form of a written word, and you are responsible for that.  Those voices in your head?  Well, they are about to be voices in other people’s heads as well.  That character?  That character no longer exists just for you – they will be out there for the rest of the world to experience and love as well.  You are so excited you want to tell the world – your neighbours, the man walking his dog past your house, the high school kids at the bus stop and even that bird that just flew over the house.  You never know!  That bird could be a shifter who has an Amazon account and internet connections!

But then suddenly, you realise halfway through telling the old lady at the grocery store who is just trying to buy a couple of carrots and potatoes for her dinner, that release means that everyone is going to know the crazy-arsed thoughts inside your head.  There is a very thin line between a writer and a schizophrenic sometimes.  We both hear voices.  It’s inevitable that an author’s personality and experiences bleed through into their written word.  And all those silly, sexy, crazy, dumb thoughts – yeah, that’s me.
So you panic.  You think of going back to edit it, only to realise IT’S TOO LATE!  Editing is done!  Proofing is done!  What is there, is there…  You panic some more, then realise that panicking achieves nothing (unless there is an elephant stampede – then panicking may help).

You spin out!  You crash! You go up in flames… Okay, maybe not.  Maybe you sit there with a coffee and think logically like an adult.  You come to the conclusion that you’ve done what you can, and come what may, that book is being released – mistakes and all.  You feel better.  You are calm.

Then you go and google yourself again, just to make sure there isn’t a review that has magically appeared in the last ten minutes on the internet…


The Blinding Light releases on Monday, 14th of July and can be purchased (pre-release) from here:

eBook from Dreamspinner:  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5211
Paperback from Dreamspinner:  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5212

eBook from ARe:  https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theblindinglight-1557675-149.html

Happy birthday Me!

It’s my birthday coming up.  Yeah – I don’t like to make a big fuss over it, but the kids are excited and it’s an excuse to eat cake, isn’t it?  This year I’m getting a HUGE birthday present – for me anyway.  My hubby and my kids won’t really care about it, but I will love it.  The day after my birthday is the release of my second book – The Blinding Light.

Yes – Jake and Patrick will be let loose on the world to sink or swim, whatever the case may be.  I’ll tell you – I’m as nervous as all hell.

Whatever happens with the release – success, failure or worse, (gasp!) boredom – this birthday has to be better than the previous two.  You see, I’m hoping that no one forgets my birthday this year.

Yes, yes, yes.  For two years in a row, people have forgotten my birthday.  As previously mentioned, I don’t make a big fuss over it, but that doesn't mean I want the day to pass as forgotten!  (Picky, aren’t I?)

So, two years ago, my darling wonderful husband forgot.  Not completely forgot like “Oh, whoops.  It was your birthday last month.”  It was more like “Your birthday’s on Sunday, isn't it?  I'm going shopping tomorrow to get you a present.”  To which I blushed and said, “No, honey.  My birthday is today.”
My attempt at cake decorating Oh, man.  It will take him YEARS to live that one down.

Then last year his parents forgot.  Admittedly they were busy packing for a holiday they were leaving on the following day, but it doesn’t negate the fact that they didn’t look at their calendar and realise the reason we were going out to dinner was because I was celebrating, as well as telling them bon voyage.

So this year, I’m really fretful about who is going to forget this time.  Things come in threes, don’t they?

I should take a look at history though – I was brought up on Molly Ringwald and didn’t her family forget her birthday in Sixteen Candles?  They all forgot, but it didn’t matter in the end because she got the super-duper-cuter guy because of it.  (I’m putting my order in for a guy who is just like Jake Ryan!)  Maybe it will all work out, after all.  All of those romantic movies couldn’t be wrong, could they?

I’ve forgiven my husband for the forgotten birthday, because in truth, I forgot Father’s Day two years before that.  Before you get all frowny at me, I have an extremely good excuse – I was in labour the whole damn day!  I went into labour on the Saturday and my baby wasn’t born until the Monday.  So I was a little pre-occupied.  I remembered about 4 days later, but was stuck in hospital and couldn’t pull the present out of the wardrobe to give to hubby.  Babies were a little bit more important, that year.

So this year I will spend my birthday, once again with labour pains, but this labour will be one of nerves and jitters as my creation readies itself to spring forth on the world.  As long as this time I don’t end up with stitches, we should be good.

Family is important

I'm Australian - sorry 'bout that

About as close to Croc Dundee as I can get... It may be devastating to learn, but I’m an Australian.  And before you start imagining leggy, long-haired, blonde beauties on the beach – no, that’s not me.  I haven’t worn a bikini for a while, and although my hair is long, it is dark brown.

Let me address some beliefs that people have about Australians:  
- I did have a pet kangaroo as a child. 
- I haven’t ridden a horse to school, but I have ridden a horse to go visiting to neighbours.
- I do own an Akubra (the Australian version of a cowboy hat). 
- I haven’t been bitten by a snake, but I have killed some in the past (although technically illegal to do so).  
- I love fishing, but hate beer. 
- I can kick a football more than 50 metres.
- I can’t throw a boomerang.
- I’ve never, ever placed a shrimp on the barbie (because I don’t eat seafood.  Don’t judge.)
- No, I personally do not know any Australian movie stars. 
- And yes, I know that sometimes my language is indecipherable to other “English speaking” countries.

Me fishing... Barred Creek, Broome When I sat down to write Loving Jay, I wrote it based in Australia.  I don’t have the confidence to pretend I know enough about another country to base my story there.  I know of several Australian authors who successfully do, and I am in complete awe of their ability.  For me, it has to be Australian or else I have no idea what I’m talking about.

All of my stories (so far) are based in my home state of Western Australia, and I hope that my readers don’t mind the taste of my home that comes through in my writing.  It does, however, cause my editors a few bald spots.  A lot of the time I don’t realise I am using an Australianism, and many times there is no compromise if I wish to keep the authentic Aussie flavour to my book.

A prime example:  thongs.

What did you just think of when you read that word?  If you thought of a scrap of material that frequently finds itself wedged between two butt cheeks, then you were wrong.  That is a g-string.  Australians wear their thongs on their feet.  Some countries call these flip flops, or sandals, or jandals – whatever.  They are an extremely popular form of footwear and they are thongs to me.  But I cannot use them in a story, because it doesn’t translate correctly.

Neither does Milo, flat white, footy, Ford-vs-Holden, chooks, smoko, caravan, a shout or budgie-smugglers.

So if anyone is lost, sorry ‘bout that.  It makes perfect sense to me.

The good stuff among the weeds

In my opinion there are two types of vegetable gardeners.  There are the ones who devotedly hang out at their local gardening centre, and at the beginning of spring, they truck in $200 worth of good soil and manure.  They set it up in their backyard and then spend another $100 on the fertiliser and sprays they will need.  Then they run to their local gardening centre and buy up all the spring seedlings and plant up their plots with lavish greens.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying this is wrong, I’m just jealous.  These gardeners have a lot of fun (which is the point!) and end up with huge returns.  You see them bring out their bloated zucchinis to brag over and point out the box of tomatoes they are giving away because they have too many.

Me?  I’m the other type of gardener – the one who spends zero dollars.  Instead I spend a good twelve months making just the right mix of compost and I add to it the offerings of my worm farms as fertiliser.  My vegetables are planted from seeds that I saved from the previous harvest, and I rely more on companion planting, natural predators and picking off the damn bugs to save my crops.  My returns are modest and I often need to cut around that hole made by that slater bug before I can eat my produce.

Today on Unproductive Monday, I was out checking on the latest doings in my garden and I noticed something exciting.  Plants!

Here, growing in the cracks of the paving, along with some weeds is a cos lettuce seedling.  And in the other picture, nestled up to a weed is a thriving rocket plant.

Both are very productive plants and both have taken root in odd places after last year’s seeds were allowed to take.  Like most veggie gardeners who fall into second category above, I don’t see that allowing my plants to “go to seed” as a bad thing.  I allowed my lettuce and rocket to flower and seed six months ago and look at what I now have!  I managed to find three new rocket plants, and three lettuce.  I transplanted them to a more conductive area (ie away from hubby’s whipper-snipper) and hopefully they will feed my family in a couple of week’s time.  If not, then they’ll feed the canaries and chooks.

I think writing is like that sometimes.  I was recently having a conversation with Robyn, an aspiring author, about writing even when you don’t feel like it.  Some days I just don’t “feel in the mood” for writing.  But I’ve found that even if I force myself to write, in the end it comes out good.  Even when you are not writing brilliantly, you are still writing something that is salvageable.  Write it, leave it and then come back to it.  You may find that you delete most of it, but often, it really wasn’t as bad as you thought.  Sometimes, you may’ve even had a moment of genius in there.  It can always be edited and changed, but if you have nothing but a blank page, you have nothing.

My mother has a saying:  How can you expect to grow flowers if you can’t even grow weeds?

I think we should all take that to heart, and maybe expand on it a bit more.  We should be proud of the flowers (or vegetables) we grow, but don’t think that the weeds are unimportant.  If you can’t grow weeds, you can’t grow flowers.  If you don’t write anything, because you don’t “feel” like it, how are you meant to write that story inside you?  Just sit down and write.  You may find something useful growing among those weeds.

And who knows?  It could be awesome.

Stereotypical roles

I wish to tell you all a little story.  It’s a true story, and not as interesting as a gay romance novel, but it’s only short, so keep reading.

Once upon a time there were assigned gender roles in the world.  When attending school, the girls were segregated to learn housekeeping duties, while the boys were given more masculine pursuits to learn.  But there started to be an outcry at this practice, and soon things began changing in the world.

This little story is about a girl who attended high school in the 1990’s.  When she started high school, the school had a policy of making all students – both male and female – attend six set courses in their first year: cooking, sewing, metalwork, woodwork, art and computers.  All students, so that both boys and girls could have a try of their opposite gender role activities.  She actually enjoyed the manual arts, was rather bored in the home economics courses, and adored the chance to do art (which her mother always said was frivolous and a waste of time). She was a studious student and excelled in mathematics and sciences.  Being the early 90’s, she was blasted by the message that girls these days could be anything they wanted.  She was handed stickers with slogans like “Hand a girl a spanner” and encouraged to be her best.

When it came the chance to choose her upper school courses which would lead her into a career, the teachers waited with bated breath to see what she would choose.  Did she want to be a lawyer?  A doctor?  A geologist?  With her skills in maths and physical sciences, she was greatly encouraged to choose an engineering pathway since there was a great lack of female engineers in the world.  She sat down with her career guidance counsellor and told them she wanted work in childcare.  The counsellor gasped in horror and instead had her fill out forms to go to university and study science.  The girl sat with her mother and said she loved singing and acting, could she please sign up for those courses?  Her mother signed her into a foreign language class.

Finally the girl grabbed her courage together and confessed her deepest wish to her oldest sister.  The girl didn’t want to be a doctor or lawyer or engineer.  She wanted to be a mummy.  She wanted to stay home with her babies and cook biscuits and raise a yard full of kids.  Her sister turned away.

It seemed that the girl really could be anything she wanted, as long as it wasn’t what people called “a gender role.”  In fact the girl was forced to deny what her biological/hormonal/god-given right to choose was, just so that she wasn’t a “stereotypical” woman.

The end of the story?  Well, it’s simple.  When the girl got old enough to make her own choice, she dropped her science classes at university, went out and got a job, then bought a house to raise her yard full of kids in.  And she is very happy she did so.
Why am I telling you this?  It’s because “gender roles” and “stereotypes” exist for a reason.  The reason is that sometimes a lot of people follow this role.  I’m not saying that all people do.  But just because it's stereotypical, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

My debut release (Loving Jay) is a book that is about Jay, a femme twinkish guy who wears makeup, likes pink and says “Oh my Gawd!” too many times in a day.  My other MC, Liam, is a laid back guy who is more masculine and often takes on a protector role over Jay.  Stereotypical?  Maybe.  Wrong?  Definitely not.

A couple of readers of the book were upset with this.  One saying he was “so tired of stereo typing” (sic) and others disliking the obvious “gender roles” I placed my characters into.  True, all very true.  But if all books ignored these stereotypes, then we wouldn’t have a true representation of the real world then, would we?

I love to read novels about characters that don’t fit the mould, but I can’t ignore the fact that in real life, some people (i.e. gay men) do take on these typical roles.  All gay men are not pumped and waxed.  All gay men are not masculine.  All gay men are not stereotypical “romantic” heroes like swashbuckling pirates.

I make no apologies for Jay and Liam.  They are fun.  They are happy to be together.  They are happy with the “role” the other one takes.  They are in love.

Did I make Jay “the girl” in the relationship?  Is he less?  No.  It’s true that he wears makeup and it’s true he’s physically weaker than Liam, but he is in no way the lesser of the two.  Jay is very happy to be Jay, and Liam is very happy with this too.  Truthfully I didn’t even think when I wrote these characters.  That’s just how they are.

If I am stereotyping, then so be it.  How dare I write something that imitates real life?  Just like how dare that girl think that she could be as feminine as to want to produce children?

Cheers,
Renae

PS – That girl?  She did what she wanted.  She had the children she longed for.  Then she sat down and wrote a novel about two gay men who fell in love.