Three Word Scenario: My Brother’s Best Friend

Here's another one of my three-word scenarios (where I take three random words and write whatever scenario comes to mind, using each word at least once.)

I had such fun with this one. I didn’t plan to do a holiday-themed scenario, but when I searched for the random words, I couldn’t resist the first one that came up. Perfect for this time of year. These scenarios seem to be getting longer and longer. Maybe I’ll end up with a novel-length one someday. 

The words for the following scenario were generated using this random word generator: pumpkin, computer, spark

(c) halfpoint / www.fotosearch.com Stock Photography

“You done with that pumpkin yet?” Leo was examining something on his computer. His eyes never left the screen as he asked me the question with as much interest as if he was talking to a telemarketer.

So much for confessing my feelings for him on Halloween.

We’d been seated across from each other at the kitchen table for the past hour, but until he’d asked about the pumpkin, neither of us had said more than five words. He had a trial to prepare for, and I had a pumpkin to gut.

Why’d I buy the thing anyway?

Because I’d always been a sucker for the holiday. As a kid I’d loved the costumes, the candy, going to my Grandma’s for a tall glass of cider, and trekking with my brother through the fallen leaves that covered the sidewalks of our neighborhood in search of those rare houses with the king-size candy bars.

Those fond memories were why I’d thought tonight would be the night I’d work up the courage to tell Leo I no longer thought of him as just my older brother’s best friend, to tell him I was seriously crushing on him.

I had been since the night my brother came home to the apartment we shared and announced that Leo was going to crash in our spare room for a while because he and his wife had separated.

“He’s gay,” my brother added as if that was all the explanation I needed. Maybe he thought all gay men instantly understood each other and didn’t need to speak at all.

But I did need to speak. It was driving me crazy not telling Leo how I felt.

He’d been staying with us for months now. Most nights my brother went out with whatever girl he was seeing, leaving Leo and me alone. We’d have dinner together, then he’d get some work done or suggest we rent a movie. Sometimes we’d just listen to music and shoot the shit for hours. I wasn’t usually as tongue-tied as I was now.

Of course, we’d never before discussed how much I wanted to suck his dick.

“Blake?” He leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of my face. “You in there?”

“Yeah. What?”

“Did you finish it?” He gestured with his head to the pumpkin on the table.

The bumpy, orange surface before me only had one triangular eye carved into it and nothing else. I hadn’t had the focus to do more than that. “Sure. It’s done.”

Even without a mouth, the pumpkin seemed to be laughing at me.

Leo stood and stretched his arms over his head, giving me a glimpse of his stomach as the bottom edge of his T-shirt rose above the top of his jeans. I wanted to lick that skin, use my lips to trace the line of dark hair disappearing into the jeans that were unbuttoned at the top. I wanted to know if he wore boxers or briefs underneath, and if he was as controlled in bed as he was during the day in the courtroom. Or did he let go when he fucked? I wanted to know how it felt to have those serious, dark eyes staring at me in bed.

I licked my lips as he came around behind me to get a look at my pathetic carve job.

“That’s just about the scariest jack-o’-lantern I’ve ever seen.”

I elbowed him in the thigh. “Shut up.” I wanted to reach back and stroke that thigh with the palm of my hand. I held still.

He didn’t. He placed an open hand on the table beside the pumpkin and leaned over me so he could get a better look.

He was close; his chest made contact with my shoulder on his every breath. Neither of us spoke for a minute. Maybe two.

He didn’t need to stare at that stupid one-eyed jack-o’-lantern that long. There wasn’t much to see.

Maybe tonight was the night, after all, and maybe he wasn’t going to tell me to fuck off like I’d feared.

I turned my head his way. He did the same until we were eye to eye, and in that moment I knew. He wanted me the way I’d been wanting him.

The air in the room seemed to come alive with energy, like a spark of lightning had zipped through the space.

“Blake.” He breathed my name more than said it.

Then he moved with amazing assurance and speed. I couldn’t have stopped him if I’d wanted to. He tugged me out of the chair and backed me against the refrigerator behind us. I hit so hard, the upper freezer door popped open and smacked me in the back of the head. I didn’t care. He was touching me.

His mouth covered mine.

I wrapped my arms around him, clutching his back, dragging him closer, desperately wanting to memorize every inch of his body under my hands, every moment of the consuming kiss. Because that one kiss might be all I’d get.

As if I had a gift for prophesizing, he pulled back.

But he didn’t go far. He leaned in again so his forehead was pressed to my left temple. “I’ve waited so long for this.” He kissed my cheek, my earlobe. “Years.”

What? Did that mean… “So before?”

He looked away, toward the table and the pumpkin still sitting there with that taunting eye. Then he met my gaze again. “Yeah. Long before she and I called it quits.” He nuzzled the side of my neck. The scratch of his dark stubble on my skin had me very aware of his touch as he kissed his way up to my ear. “I think I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

We’d met when I was sixteen, when he and my brother had been freshmen in college.

Which meant… He’d wanted to be with me for over ten years.

“I just didn’t know how to accept it,” he added. “I pushed it aside, went on with my life. Only, my life was all a lie.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why tonight?”

He laughed. “I’ve been trying to make a move for weeks now. Just couldn’t figure out how. Never came on to a guy before, never kissed one.” He shook his head, glanced at the table again. “Watching you there, I couldn’t resist. You just looked so damn adorable carving that thing.” He kissed me, taking his time now, his hands exploring, his soft, wet tongue brushing against mine. Then he was backing me across the kitchen, moving us toward the hallway, toward my bedroom.

Passing by the table, I caught a glimpse of the single carved eye socket of that stupid, beautiful pumpkin—the best damn jack-o’-lantern on the planet.

“I love Halloween,” I murmured as my lips brushed his again.

Copyright (c) Sloan Parker, September 2013

Award-winning author Sloan Parker writes passionate, dramatic stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Sloan enjoys writing in the fictional world because in fiction you can be anything, do anything--even fall in love for the first time over and over again. She lives in Ohio with her partner and their neurotic cats where her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. You can learn more about Sloan and her writing at www.sloanparker.com.

First and Last Lines

The first and last sentences are considered by many to be the most important lines of a book. There’s even a commonly utilized blog topic where authors and readers post first and last lines of their favorite books, as well as tumblr posts dedicated to first lines and even one for all the Harry Potter books.

I thought it might be fun to take a look at the first and last lines from my Loose Id titles. I was surprised at how well the two sentences from each summed up the themes and character arcs of these stories, something I hadn’t consciously worked to do when writing them.

I was not surprised, however, to see how short the lines were. My editor says I have a very staccato style. My natural flow seems to be to write a longer sentence bracketed by shorter, punchier ones.

Here are the first and last lines of my LI books:

MORE
I hadn't seen any sign of my stalkers.
“I'll love you both until I take my last breath.”

BREATHE
Hope you found some peace in jail.
To save each other.

TAKE ME HOME
“Have you guys done it yet?”
So long as he was with Evan, he was home.

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE
“You’re mine now.”
“We’ll see.”

What are the first and last lines from one of your favorite books?




Award-winning author Sloan Parker writes passionate, dramatic stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Sloan enjoys writing in the fictional world because in fiction you can be anything, do anything—even fall in love for the first time over and over again. She lives in Ohio with her partner and their neurotic cats where her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. You can learn more about Sloan and her writing at www.sloanparker.com.

Three-Word Scenario: My Roommate's Surprise (A Coming Out Story)

Here's another one of my three-word scenarios (where I take three random words and write whatever scenario comes to mind, using each word at least once.)

These three words came from Merriam-Webster.com's Word of the Day archive: voracious, hallmark, illustrious

"I'm gay."

Two words from my college roommate, and I couldn't blink, much less speak, or even keep my mouth from hanging open like I had a spontaneous, uncontrollable drooling problem.

I had lived with him for the past two years, and I'd had no idea.

I forced down a swallow. "You're…"

"Gay." He spoke the word slowly as if I might not understand what it meant.

What a laugh. Everyone had suspected I was gay long before I'd been certain of it myself. When I'd worked up the courage to tell my parents during Thanksgiving dinner four years ago, my mom exhaled a long breath like she'd been waiting for some horrible news instead, then said, "That's not news to us, honey, and we are very proud of you. Please pass the mashed potatoes."

So that was that. I was gay, and I'd been the last person in my life to realize it.

But Rex? The illustrious twenty-eight-year-old tattoo artist who, on a dare from a customer in his shop, filled out an application for Harvard, and when he was accepted, had decided to sell his shop and move to a dorm on campus so he could have the full "college experience."

Did that mean he wanted to do the curious-college-gay-experiment thing too? Or was he really telling me he already liked to fuck guys?

Rex had always had a voracious appetite for women. And they for him. What with the tribal tattoos covering his upper body and a physique that had the art students begging him to drop his pants for their Nude Drawings course. He was always dating women. And fucking them.

Or so I'd thought.

Maybe I'd never really known him.

Maybe these past two years had all been an act.

He threw me his hallmark grin. The one that showcased the dimples, even through the dark stubble on his face. The one that came with the pointed look in his eyes that said he was about to tease me about my love of cock—which had been happening more and more often as of late.

I was beginning to get that I might've missed something about him after all.

This time he didn't tease. He came to me, grabbed me by the back of the neck, then kissed me.

Not a slow, soft brush of lips, but a passionate, wild kiss that ended with me panting, sprawled out on my back across his bed, his body pressing into mine in all the right places.

He pulled back and gave me that grin again as he rubbed my cock through my jeans.

He'd definitely done this before.

"Yeah," I said. "You're gay."

And for the next hour and a half he showed me just how gay.




Award-winning author Sloan Parker writes passionate, dramatic stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Sloan enjoys writing in the fictional world because in fiction you can be anything, do anything—even fall in love for the first time over and over again. She lives in Ohio with her partner and their neurotic cats where her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. You can learn more about Sloan and her writing at www.sloanparker.com.

Three-Word Scenario: Partners (an M/M scene)

Today I thought I’d share another one of my three-word scenarios. This is where I take three random words and write whatever scenario comes to mind, using each word at least once.

I’ve decided to skip trying to keep the scenarios to a certain word count and instead go with whatever comes to mind and however long it takes to get the entire idea down. It might end up as a snippet that could become a longer story. Or it might be a character or setting description. Anything that pops into my head when I mesh the three random words together.

Last time Lisabet Sarai suggested these words: retro, parking, and mattress. Thanks, Lisabet!

Here’s my three-word scenario:

Partners

Sawyer drew in a long breath and leaned back on his elbows. His T-shirt lay crumpled in a ball beside him on the mattress, and his jeans were open at the front. He didn’t bother to zip them up. In a few minutes he and Finn would get back to where they’d been headed.

Who the hell got half naked, kissed like they’d been doing five minutes ago, and then stopped before they got to the fucking? Something was seriously messed up between them.

Finn stood across the room, his back to the wall, his arms folded across his bare chest. He sported a scowl that said everything Sawyer didn’t want to hear.

Or maybe he did. Maybe they needed to have this conversation. Get everything out in the open. Finally.

They hadn’t slept together in weeks. Every night after work, they hung out at Sawyer’s apartment, watching one of those ’70s cops shows, not talking, not even laughing at the stupid-ass crooks or the retro hairstyles they usually mocked all through the show.

Sawyer threw Finn a smirk, knowing that alone would piss him off. “You’re mad at me.”

Finn kept his hard gaze locked on Sawyer’s chest. “I’m not mad.”

“Fuck that. You’ve been mad at me since that day in the parking garage. Like it was my fault.”

“You got shot.”

“I didn’t ask the guy to shoot me.”

Finn made eye contact for the first time since the kissing ended. “You might as well have. You went at him like you had no training at all.”

Sawyer sat up with a jolt. “Are you calling me a shitty cop?

“No. I’m calling you a reckless one.”

“I know you don’t mean that.” Slowly, like he might spook Finn if he moved too fast, Sawyer got off the bed and went to stand in front of him. “Just like I knew in that garage you’d have my back. Like always.”

Finn met his gaze again and grunted out a laugh. He didn’t let up on the tense posture, though.

Sawyer grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him forward until they were eye to eye, their foreheads almost touching. “Just admit it. You’re pissed about the shooting because it freaked you out like nothing else on the job ever has. And it freaked you out because you’re in love with me.” He drew him forward until they were back to the kissing, this time their mouths and tongues and bodies coming together slowly, tenderly.

When they finally parted, Finn leaned against the wall again, the tension in his body long gone. “God, you’re infuriating.” He smiled with a softness Sawyer had never seen before.

“And you’re right,” Finn added. “About everything. So don’t ever get your ass shot again.”

Sawyer gripped him by the waistband of his jeans and tugged until Finn was in his arms again. “Deal.”


Award-winning author Sloan Parker writes passionate, dramatic stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Sloan enjoys writing in the fictional world because in fiction you can be anything, do anything...even fall in love for the first time over and over again. She lives in Ohio with her partner and their neurotic cats where her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. You can learn more about Sloan and her writing at www.sloanparker.com.

M/M Romance HOW TO SAVE A LIFE now available

I'm pleased to share that my latest novel HOW TO SAVE A LIFE, the first book in a new suspense series (and a spin-off of my book MORE), is now available. Big thanks to my editor Antonia and to April Martinez for the fab cover.

Book Description
Reporter Kevin Price has a knack for tripping over his own feet. And everyone else's. He's in over his head undercover at the Haven, a swanky gay sex club, determined to find out why members of the club keep vanishing. Five minutes inside and he can no longer deny the truth about his sexuality. He turns to the one man he can't get out of his head, the sexy ex-cop handling security. Too bad Kevin doesn't trust cops. Not since the only night he let himself be with another man.

Walter Simon doesn't do the club scene anymore. Not since he found love and lost it. That doesn't mean he'll let anyone hurt more innocent gay men. Even if that means going head-to-head with the klutzy, closeted, much-younger reporter. Kevin has information about the disappearances. Better to keep him close. And safe.

Neither is at the club to hook up or fall in love. Now they must work together amid their growing passion in order to uncover the truth before more men disappear.

Now Available
http://www.loose-id.com/the-haven-1-how-to-save-a-life.html

Read Chapters 1 & 2
http://www.sloanparker.com/books-HowToSaveALife-sample.htm 


Sloan Parker has been writing and playing with fictional characters for years, but she finally found her true passion when she began telling stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Now she spends her writing life creating m/m erotic romances and romantic suspense. She loves to explore the lives of people who are growing as individuals while falling in love. Her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. www.sloanparker.com   

A Preview of HOW TO SAVE A LIFE

My upcoming Loose Id title HOW TO SAVE A LIFE is the first book in a new series that's releasing next week. So today I thought I'd share a preview of Walter and Kevin's story.

Title: How to Save a Life
Author: Sloan Parker
Genre: Gay Romantic Suspense
Length:  Long Novel

Blurb
Reporter Kevin Price has a knack for tripping over his own feet. And everyone else’s. He’s in over his head undercover at the Haven, a swanky gay sex club, determined to find out why members of the club keep vanishing. Five minutes inside and he can no longer deny the truth about his sexuality. He turns to the one man he can’t get out of his head, the sexy ex-cop handling security. Too bad Kevin doesn’t trust cops. Not since the only night he let himself be with another man.

Walter Simon doesn’t do the club scene anymore. Not since he found love and lost it. That doesn’t mean he’ll let anyone hurt more innocent gay men. Even if that means going head-to-head with the klutzy, closeted, much-younger reporter. Kevin has information about the disappearances. Better to keep him close. And safe.

Neither is at the club to hook up or fall in love. Now they must work together amid their growing passion in order to uncover the truth before more men disappear.

Note: How to Save a Life features Walter Simon, a secondary character from MORE, but can be read as a stand-alone story.


Excerpt
Walter brushed the back of his index finger over Kevin’s lips. He’d always loved kissing. Even in his youth, when most of the guys wanted nothing more than the fucking or the sucking, he’d loved the kissing and touching and exploring. Kevin liked it too. He was sure of that. He’d felt it in the first kiss. And the second.

“I know what you want. And so do you.” Walter gave up on the touching and offered Kevin a little distance. “You’ve never been with a man, have you?”

“Yes. No. Yes.” Kevin blew the hair out of his eyes. “Yes, I have.”

“What? You get stroked off by another boy in junior high school?”

“No.”

“You did more than a teenage experiment?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

Walter moved in close once more. “I’m guessing it’s been a very long time, and you’ve been denying yourself what you really wanted most of your life—what you still want.”

It took a moment, as if he had to force his body to comply, and then Kevin nodded.

“You’re not out?” Walter asked. Without giving it much thought, the tone of his voice had shifted to something softer.

“No.”

“Do you have a wife?”

“No. I wouldn’t…” Kevin gestured with his hand between them.

“A girlfriend?”

“Yes. I mean, no.”

“Which is it? If you can’t remember if you have a girlfriend, then trust me, you don’t have one anymore.”

“I don’t. Have one anymore, I mean.” Kevin sucked in a deep breath. “Talking to you is exhausting.”

“Talking to you is entertaining.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. He sobered. Staring at Walter’s shoes, he said, “I left her. My girlfriend, Sondra. A couple of months ago.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“We’re still friends.” Kevin lifted his head. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Which is why you stayed with her for so long.” Walter took another step closer. “And now?”

Kevin evaded his gaze again.

The silence stretched on between them. Walter wasn’t about to back down. He had years of experience pushing people for the truth.

Something told him with Kevin, there was a fine line between not pushing enough and pushing too hard.


KEVIN DID NOT want to talk about this. Yet a part of him longed to do just that.

Here, in this room, with a gay man listening to him, he couldn’t pretend any longer. He wanted to kiss Walter again, let his tongue wander over those lips, down along the skin of his neck to the warm flesh under his clothes, his chest, and lower to his abs, and even lower. He wanted to taste it all. He couldn’t hide from that fact. Not any longer.

He’d known for months now that he’d been heading to this moment. Whether he’d wanted to admit it or not."

It had been easy to keep the promise he’d made in his youth. At least while he’d been with Sondra. He wasn’t a cheater. Now that she was gone, now that he was here, now that he’d felt this man’s touch…he was done holding back.

Walter cupped his chin and forced him to look up.

“I guess I can’t hide from it forever.”

“That’s good. You don’t have to hide. Not here. Not in this room. Not with me.”

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE coming January 15th to Loose Id.

Sloan Parker has been writing and playing with fictional characters for years, but she finally found her true passion when she began telling stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Now she spends her writing life creating m/m erotic romances and romantic suspense. She loves to explore the lives of people who are growing as individuals while falling in love. Her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. www.sloanparker.com  

Three-Word Scenario: Everything about you

Since I’ve been working on my current manuscript for a while now, I occasionally like to take a short break and do this exercise to stretch my creative/brainstorming muscles. I call it Three-Word Scenario. I take three random (sometimes odd) words and write whatever scenario comes to mind, using each word at least once, and keeping the entire scenario to 200 words.

It might end up as a snippet that could become a longer story. Or maybe a character or setting description. Anything that pops into my head when I mesh the three random words together.

Last time I was here at Loose Ends, Barbara offered up these three words for me to play with.

I went over the word limit but decided to keep it the way the scenario came to me rather than start chopping. Actually, I almost kept going and wrote a sex scene too, but I figured I’d save that for another day.

Definitely more of the sweet than sexy in this m/m romance.

I stopped with the jigsaw puzzle piece held in mid-air and stared back at Joe. I couldn’t have heard him correctly.

He was on the couch across the room from me, leaning forward with his elbows propped on those strong, muscular thighs. He had a crooked smirk on his face, that innocent, yet wicked expression usually reserved for the moment right before he was about to attack my dick with his lips. I could almost see a halo over his head and a red pitchfork in his hand. Maybe I had heard him correctly after all.

He added, "I think that piece is part of his beak."

"What?"

He pointed at the puzzle piece in my hand.

"Oh." I inserted the three-sided section into the last empty space that made up the red-winged blackbird’s beak.

Now that Joe had asked the question, and the words were hanging there between us, I felt like the biggest dork with the folding table before me covered in puzzle pieces sorted by shape and color. For weeks now I’d been putting together the puzzles my grandma had left behind when she’d passed away. I met his gaze again and studied him.

"What?" he asked.

"Why now?"

"I’ve been watching you put together these bird and rabbit puzzles since the funeral, and I realized something tonight."

"What?" That I’m the biggest dork on the planet who can’t figure out how to say good-bye to his grandma?

"I love everything about you, and I want to marry you."

Thanks, Barbara, for the inspiration!

Would anyone like to throw out three words I can use next time?


Sloan Parker has been writing and playing with fictional characters for years, but she finally found her true passion when she began telling stories about two men (or more) falling in love. Now she spends her writing life creating m/m erotic romances and romantic suspense. She loves to explore the lives of people who are growing as individuals while falling in love. Her greatest moments in life are spent with her family, her friends, and her characters. www.sloanparker.com 

Three-Word Scenarios

As much as I love playing with words, I’m really a visual person. A candid photo of a stranger’s life, a run-down abandoned building, a snippet of a news story, or the physical gestures between two people I’ve never met are usually the kinds of things that spark an idea for a new story. Yet, sometimes it can be words that inspire new ideas and stretch my imagination like nothing else.

I enjoy writing novel-length stories, but the time between the initial surge of creativity for new storylines and characters never comes quickly enough to please my imagination. In an effort to exercise the creativity of brainstorming new ideas, I’ve started a topic on my blog called three-word scenarios.

The idea came out of an interview I did at author Julie Hayes’s blog. One of the questions she asked was Take these three words and give me a 100 word or less scenario using them: concert, documented, broadcast.

Here’s what I came up with for Julie’s words.

Today, I thought I’d share my next three-word scenario, the first of the new segment I’ll be continuing at my blog. I’ve decided to limit my scenarios to 200 words or less.

My sweetie picked the three words this time around. I don’t think she went easy on me. Since I write contemporary and usually think in those terms, the first one was definitely a challenge. The words are:

Aliens
Candy Canes
Blue

The scenario I came up with is more the start of something, or perhaps the ending of an m/m romance between friends, a sweet moment in time that could lead to more.

Christmas Eve. Out first together in a real home.

Outside it was raining, the ground covered in mud—not the snow I’d always imagined—and Tommy was late getting home from work. I shouldn’t have been this happy. I shouldn’t have been sitting on the floor of the living room staring up at the Christmas tree with its blue twinkling lights and candy canes, smiling like peace on earth really was just a wish away.

I carefully secured the end of the wrapping paper around the 1970’s alien action figure set. A garage-sale find that had taken me four Saturdays of walking through one suburban housing development after another, scouring through boxes of old toys in search of the little plastic green aliens. Tommy’d had the same set as a kid. Since we’d both run away from less-than-stellar homes as teens, neither of us had any childhood mementos to remind us of the few good days we had in our youths.

The smile grew as I imagined his face when he opened the box.

My first gift for him. The first time I’d had money to spend on something this frivolous. Only, to Tommy it wouldn’t be that at all.

Word Count: 200 (just made it!)

Dang, now I have a new story I want to write.

Anyone have any ideas for what three words I can use next time around?



Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

Setting and Sports Romances

So I am an unabashed baseball fan. A Yankees fan, even. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and roll your eyes.

I think in a lot of ways, baseball is an ideal sport for me. It’s polite and gentlemanly in its way, but it’s tense and exciting, too. It’s orderly and statistical, but it’s also unpredictable. Fans are smart and passionate. The whole history of the sport is riddled with triumph and heartbreak, with cheating and honesty, with colorful characters, villains, and heroes.

Sounds kind of like a romance novel, doesn’t it?

I think that my writing a baseball romance was an inevitability. Beyond the obvious intersection of my interests here, a sports romance has one other key element: setting. I love a vivid setting in a novel, one that lives and breathes as much as the characters do. I want to know what everything looks like, smells like, feels like. I love nitty-gritty details. That was something I was conscious of as I wrote. The novel takes place in New York City primarily—my two heroes are both players for the same fictional MLB team—but it also takes place in stadiums, on fields, in locker rooms.

As a writer, I like to have a clear picture of the setting, so I draw maps and diagrams. I knew which parts of the stadium were where: the distance from the locker room to the field, the locations of the executive offices, the parking lot. My fictional stadium is magically located roughly where Ebbets Field once stood, which I never say in the book, but I knew which roads the characters would have to drive on to get to Manhattan. I did a ton of research, too, to get the cadence of speech right—how do baseball players talk to each other? how do sportscasters talk about baseball—and to make sure all my terminology was right. I watched documentaries, I read several books, I listened to baseball podcasts, and, of course, I watched a ton of games. (Not a hardship, by the way!) Immersing myself in the world of baseball was really key to my creating what I thought was a convincing setting. And hopefully, it’s a setting in the same way New York is a setting, so that the reader sees it as color and detail and not as an overwhelming amount of information!

Kate McMurray is a NYC-based writer, editor, and baseball fanatic. She writes m/m romances and reads lots of books. She also likes crafts and plays the violin and lives in Brooklyn in an apartment over an ice cream parlor. Kate’s baseball novel, Out in the Field, is available now.

Website: www.katemcmurray.com
Twitter: @katemcmwriter

Released today: Choices

The first of The Looking Glass series, Choices is a contemporary with a hint of paranormal, set in Sydney, Australia. It features a Magic Mirror which shows the person who looks into it their One True Love. Great if you were looking for love, but what would happen if you didn't want love, or the person it showed you was not anyone you'd ever want to fall in love with?



Marc's straight, always has been and thought he always would be, but when he's shown his true love in a magic mirror he's shocked to find out his true love is a man. Not only that, it's up to him to convince his true love they're meant to be together. All bad enough, but after finding Liam, the only way he’s able to persuade Liam to go out with him is to offer him sex – even though that's something Marc's definitely not ready for.
Liam thinks Marc is crazy. Marc's straight but he's talking about true love and making a life together. Liam doesn’t believe in love and he certainly isn’t going to fall in love with a crazy straight guy regardless of how sexy he is. But he hasn’t reckoned on Marc’s pushy attitude or his offer of sex which, no matter how much he knows he should, Liam can’t turn down.

To read an excerpt, click here.

Meet Kyle and Evan

I'm thrilled to announce the release of my third novel-length e-book, Take Me Home.

Take Me Home is the story of Kyle and Evan, two friends who've known each other for over 10 years and who are both at a turning point in their writing careers. Every December they take a holiday trip from California home to Ohio. This year's trip is quite different, though. For starters, Kyle has a journal from his grandfather that someone desperately wants to get their hands on, and it seems a cross-country train trip won’t stop them from coming after it.

That’s not all that’s distracting Kyle and Evan from their writing. This is the first time they’re making the trip alone since their initial drive out to California. Evan’s former boyfriend isn’t going with them, and now they are ready to finally face what they mean to each other. Or are they?

Thank you to my lovely editor, Antonia, and everyone at Loose Id for helping this story find its way.

Inspiration Pics for Kyle and Evan

Kyle

Evan

 

 

Blurb for TAKE ME HOME

Aspiring television writer Evan Walker has been in love with his best friend since high school, but Kyle doesn’t do boyfriends. Never has. Never will. Evan knows it’s a bad idea to give in to desire when he wants more than a friend with benefits. He has a new dream job. Now all he needs is the dream partner.

Kyle Bennett is a mystery novelist with a severe case of writer’s block. He needs a change. He has three days on their cross-country train trip home for the holidays to figure out how to tell Evan he’s staying there for good. He also has to write the overdue pages for his editor. Only, he’s a little too distracted by the close quarters in their sleeper compartment—and Evan’s ass—to get much done.

The sparks that fly between them are hotter than ever. Good thing they have a real-life mystery to focus on: why people all around them, including Evan’s new boss, want to get their hands on a journal that once belonged to Kyle’s grandfather.

When a blizzard traps them in the mountains, Kyle and Evan steam up the train’s windows and must finally face their true desires.


Excerpt from TAKE ME HOME

Evan shivered. Which made no sense. He was still warm from the run, the sweat on his skin not even dry yet.

Kyle took another step. Evan wanted him to stop. He wanted to shout all the reasons why this had to stop, before it got started, wanted to tell Kyle not to move another inch.

He didn’t.

And Kyle didn’t stop coming at him until they were practically touching, Kyle staring down at him.

Evan tried to focus on Kyle’s words, on the news about the journal and his grandpa, but all he could think about was what he’d seen when he’d walked into the apartment: Kyle, all skin and taught muscles, wearing only his tight-as-sin white underwear, the briefs stretched over his cock, and the way Kyle had looked at him in the dim light of the hallway.

Just once. He’s leaving anyway. Evan closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. He looked up at Kyle again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Kyle said the word with a slight curve of his lips. He took a step back and reclined against the wall, looking casual, like he was about to flirt with a bartender for a free drink. “After I read it, I was thinking about that night in the motel room in Iowa on our first drive out here.” He slowly swung his head in Evan’s direction. “Do you remember that night?”

Evan nodded.

“Do you ever think about it?” Kyle’s voice was barely a whisper.

Up until a few months ago, Evan hadn’t let himself, but since he’d moved in with Kyle… “Sometimes.”

“Like right now?”

“Yeah.”

Kyle slid along the wall, traveling the last remnants of space between them. “Ev, I’ve been waiting ten years to finish what we started.” He pushed off the wall and turned until they were face-to-face again, his dark eyes unflinching as he leaned in. He stopped before their lips touched. The heat of that mouth and body so close stoked the fire inside Evan.

His own body reacted, his cock pushing at his shorts. He wanted to shove Kyle against the wall and kiss him until morning, do everything he’d ever dreamed of when it came to touching Kyle, everything he ached to feel about the man.

The smile Kyle gave him next wasn’t the usual cocky one he’d used with countless guys over the years. He pressed forward and slid his lips along Evan’s skin from the base of his neck to his earlobe, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. He lingered over Evan’s ear and whispered, “You smell so damn good. I want to fuck you, Ev.”

Evan shivered again. “We shouldn’t…” He couldn’t say more. Didn’t want to. The time for talking was over. Kyle ran the tip of his tongue along the outside of Evan’s ear, and Evan instinctively moved closer. His breath hitched with the touch of Kyle’s bare abs against him. Why had he worn a T-shirt to go running?

Using only the weight of his body, Kyle turned them until Evan’s back was against the hall wall, then flattened his palms to the wall on either side of Evan’s head. He licked his lips and spread his legs until their bodies lined up groin to groin, then rolled his hips, putting pressure against Evan’s cock. “God, Ev…”

With that movement, those two words, Evan groaned and let his head fall back to the wall. He couldn’t stop himself. He rocked his hips in time with Kyle’s. The feel of Kyle’s body, his hard cock against him, drove his own arousal higher.

Kyle spoke again, his voice even lower. “It could be so fucking good.”

Evan lost track of the arguments he’d been telling himself since he’d left the apartment earlier. He raised his head, and their lips met, the softest brush of flesh until Kyle opened his mouth, seized Evan by the back of the head, and slid his tongue into the touch. The kiss deepened, and Evan thought he’d never be able to stop feeling Kyle’s mouth on his, their tongues pressed together.


Take Me Home is available now at Loose Id.

Thanks to all my readers for their support!

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

From Friends to Lovers: A Collection of Love Songs

I’m finishing up my latest m/m romance, TAKE ME HOME, this week. It's tentatively due out in December. Here’s the brief premise: Best friends. Years spent denying their attraction. A 2000-mile train trip home for the holidays in a cramped bedroom compartment. A blizzard that leaves them trapped. After waiting 10 years for their second kiss, they finally give in to passion.

Since it’s a romantic, sexy, all-out love story, I thought I’d share some of my favorite love songs, most of which remind me of Kyle and Evan’s story.

Have a Little Faith In Me, John Hiatt



Maybe I'm Amazed, Paul McCartney



The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, Roberta Flack



Unchained Melody, Righteous Brothers



You Are So Beautiful, Joe Cocker



(Everything I Do) I Do It For You, Bryan Adams
I can’t embed this one so here’s the link to the video on YouTube



What are your favorite love songs?

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

“Arrr! Lick Me Nipples” Or the Importance of Another Set of Eyes

Proofreading is such an important step in the writing process (whether the work will also go through a publisher's editing process or not). Proofing is not only key for writers of fiction, but anyone who spends a lot of time writing professional communication or information. It’s also a step where the creator of the content is at a disadvantage. It’s so hard to catch everything when you're the one who wrote the words. Your brain reads what you meant, not what you actually wrote. So it’s often the best approach to get some help from another person.

I recently wrote a short story for the upcoming Hot July Days event at the Goodreads M/M Romance Group. Readers posted pictures and letters as prompts for authors in the group to write short stories. My story is just over 8,000 words in length, and I must have read it ten or more times as I was revising and proofing.

Even in this short of a story and even after reading it over so many times, I missed a couple of obvious typos. My partner read it the other night and pointed them out. I had written “reprehension” for “representative” and “me nipples” for “my nipples.” For that last one she said I had gone into pirate mode, and then she went around the house repeating, “Arrr! Lick me nipples” all night.

That wasn’t the reaction I was going for. A typo like that can really pull the reader out of the moment.

When submitting to a publisher, writing a free read for your website, or polishing any professional piece of written work, I think it’s important to have someone else read it over, at the very least to check for these sorts of typos. No matter how careful you have been in your own proofing you are likely to miss something, and your work will look less professional with each mistake.

I do realize this may not be possible for everyone or every situation, so I thought I’d share three techniques that have worked to help me catch more of my own mistakes.

1. Make the font size larger and the margins smaller, then print the text out. You’ll see the words in a very different way from how you’ve been viewing them as you wrote and revised the text. You could also try loading it on an eBook reader to get yet a different view.
   
   
2. Read your words aloud. It slows down the flow of words, and I can catch more mistakes that way. I find standing up and walking around helpful too. Not only is this a good idea for us writers who sit a lot of the time, but I also find the act of moving and being in a different location than where I originally wrote the story helps to mix things up for my brain. (On a side note, I believe reading aloud also helps you create, maintain, and strengthen your own voice.)
   
   
3. Have the computer read the text to you. This works great to identify a misspelling that the spell checker won’t catch. For example, my mistake of “me nipples.” Even with a choppy computerized voice, I would have definitely heard the computer read the “me” instead of the “my” that I had meant. For a short story this works great, but it can take a lot of time for something longer and may not be feasible if you’re under a deadline. I use Adobe Acrobat or my Kindle for this. You could also search for “text to speech software” for other options.

Mistakes happen, sometimes even in the work for the most popular and critically-acclaimed authors. I think most readers will forgive one or two such typos, but having even one in the wrong place can really mess with the flow.

What do you think? Are you bothered by typos or can you keep on reading without much distraction? Anyone else have another proofing tip that works for you? I’d love to hear about it.

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

New from Loose Id: THIS ROUGH MAGIC

ISBN: 978-1-61118-402-0

Genre: LGBT 1930's Suspense

Length: Short Novel

Price: $5.00 Info

BLURB:


Wealthy San Francisco playboy Brett Sheridan thinks he knows the score when he hires tough guy private eye Neil Patrick Rafferty to find a priceless stolen folio of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Brett’s convinced his partner-in-crime sister is behind the theft -- a theft that’s liable to bring more scandal to their eccentric family, and cost Brett his marriage to society heiress Juliet Lennox. What Brett doesn’t count on is the instant and powerful attraction that flares between him and Rafferty.


Once before, Brett took a chance on loving a man, only to find himself betrayed and broken. This time around there’s too much at risk.


But as the Bard himself would say, Journey’s end in lovers meeting.

EXCERPT:

“Oh darling, you didn’t.” Juliet’s expression was both amused and vexed. “A private detective?”

“If you had a better idea --” Brett drained his martini glass and set it on the table a little harder than necessary.

They were lunching at the Golden Pheasant, one of Juliet’s favorite watering holes. As usual, the place was packed. Brett would have preferred some place quiet where they could have actually talked without being overheard. Juliet wanted the baked stuffed squab chicken under glass.

“No, of course not. But a-a private eye is going to make us look ridiculous. And it’s so unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary? In three days your father is going to turn the matter over to the police.”

“But so what?” She smiled at him, though her blue eyes were puzzled. He was seeing that puzzled look more and more these days. He needed to make more of an effort. They were so close now. The wedding was less than a month away.

“We don’t need that kind of scandal right before the -- our -- wedding. That’s all.”

She studied him and then smiled, resting her hand over his clenched one. “You’re fearfully nervous about this, aren’t you, Sherry? Are you not sleeping again?”

“Of course I’m -- I’m sleeping perfectly well. You must realize how very bad this kind of thing looks, Julie. Until it’s cleared up, suspicion lies on every one of us.”

“Not on us, silly.” She was laughing at him openly now. And with good reason. His behavior must seem peculiar at the least. “Anyway, I think Father’s got it all wrong. It’s obvious that it had to be one of the servants who took the folio.” Brett stared at her with such disbelief that she made a little face. “It’s no good looking at me like that. I don’t have your pedigree, darling. I’m just a poor little daughter of the nouveau riche. I think mysteries are terribly exciting, if you want the truth. I adore Mr. Hammett’s stories. It isn’t as though the scandal has to do with us.”

He could have put his head in his hands and howled.

The waiter came with another tray of martinis. Brett ordered the squab with rice valencia for Juliet and the eastern choice top sirloin for himself.

“Very good, sir.” The waiter took the menus.

Brett picked up his drink and swallowed half of it in a gulp. Dear God it was noisy. The babble of voices seemed to ricochet off the amber wood of the tables and chairs and ceiling. He was getting a headache.

Juliet sipped her martini. “What’s the name of this shamus that you’ve hired?”

“Rafferty. Neil Patrick Rafferty.”

“Oh. Very Irish. I suppose he’s going to stick his nose in everywhere and ask all our friends a lot of annoying and embarrassing questions?”

“That shouldn’t bother you, since you adore Mr. Hammett’s stories so much.”

It was sharper than he’d intended. Her face looked hurt for an instant. He really had to get control of himself. She was right. His nerves were shot to pieces, and he wasn’t sleeping. Hadn’t slept well for longer than he could remember. Once they were married it would be all right. Everything would be all right then.

He said reassuringly, “Mr. Rafferty came highly recommended. From Pat Constable, in fact.”

“Pat Constable? What on earth would she have needed a private eye for?”

“I’ve no idea,” he lied. “I just recalled that she once mentioned using one and that he was efficient and discreet.”

Juliet took another sip of her martini and made a little face. She didn’t really like martinis, but that was what everyone in their crowd drank. Brett stared up at the stained glass window panels of yellow and blue pheasants. Pretty birds. Not very smart. Good eating.

“I can’t wait to see Daddy’s face.” Juliet suddenly relaxed, whether due to the alcohol or his words. “Oh well, then. If Pat Constable says he’s okay, I’m sure he’s wonderful.” She took another sip and giggled. “What’s he like, your shamus?”

Your shamus.

Brett had a sudden, shocking mental image of himself in Neil Patrick Rafferty’s brawny arms, Neil Patrick Rafferty’s hard mouth pressing his own. He felt the blood rush to his head. His heart began to pound with something close to panic. He reached for his glass and finished his drink.

He put the glass down and said indifferently, “He looks like a prize fighter. He’s got a scar on one cheek, and his nose has been broken a couple of times, I should think. And he has the palest, coldest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“But you liked him?”

“I…didn’t think about it one way or the other. He looks like he’ll get the job done. In fact, I feel sorry for anyone who gets in his way.”

She smiled, at least partly humoring him now. “When will I get to meet him?”

Brett shook his head. “I don’t know. He wasn’t forthcoming about his methods.”

“That’s all right. I love surprises.” She was teasing. One thing he was not was surprising.

Their lunches arrived then, and she began to talk about hand-blocked wallpapers, Sanvale fabrics for drapery sets, and sterling silver coffee sets.

His mind wandered. Through the windows, he watched people hurrying along Geary Street. Watched the automobiles flashing by. The fog had lifted, and it was turning into a bright, sunny day. Still cold for June. Juliet worried a lot about the weather, theirs being a June wedding.

“Sherry, darling, I don’t think you’re listening,” Juliet said suddenly.

He quoted back, “‘The Nukraft feature of the Sealy Airlite mattress is made of patented hair and latex cushioning that prevents bunching and promotes circulation of air.’”

The thought of that mattress made his mouth dry. But it would be all right. For all her frank ways, Juliet was essentially naïve.

Juliet smiled affectionately. “I’m going to make you a wonderful wife, darling. You’ll see.”

“I know, darling,” Brett replied.

Buy from Loose Id

The Record of a Moment in Time

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

- Oscar Wilde

“All we see of someone at any moment is a snapshot of their life, there in riches or poverty, in joy or despair. Snapshots don't show the million decisions that led to that moment.”

-Richard Bach

Sometimes what we say or do when we think no one is listening or looking speaks volumes, but does it speak the truth we want others to know about us?

Have you ever kept a journal or diary, writing down your daily activities, thoughts, inspirations, dreams, or even your innermost secrets? Did you ever wonder what others would think if they read about your life via your own words, either now or after you’re gone?

Even if you are writing for yourself, I think it’s common for anyone keeping a journal to consider what an unintentional audience might contemplate about you if they came across your private reflections. Would they ponder why you chose to write about the subjects you did? Would they laugh at you? Cry? Feel a connection to you in a way they hadn’t before reading your secrets? Would they find you boring or fascinating? Strong or weak? Redundant or insightful?

A big part of the plot in my current work-in-progress revolves around a sixty-year-old journal written by the grandfather of one of my main characters. The grandfather’s stories, lessons, and secrets in this journal have the potential to do more than connect a man to his deceased grandfather. They have the power to change the course of several lives.

In a scene I was working on the other day my character Kyle reads an excerpt from the journal which helps him solve a problem he’s been living with for a year. Had those same words been written by anyone other than the grandfather Kyle had admired and loved, they would not have held as much power to influence his life. For him, the meaning and impact was based on the source. His connection to his grandfather mattered greatly in how open he was to the message hidden in the daily excerpts.

It’s been an interesting experience writing the journal snippets that are woven into the main story. Not only did I have to be in the head of my character reading the words left behind by his grandfather, but I also had to get into the heart and soul of the conflicted twenty-year-old man who lived through the experiences sixty years earlier. It got me to thinking about whether or not I’d want to find a journal—the private thoughts and feelings—of someone I had loved but lost. What about the grandparents I had only known during their retirement years? What about my childhood friend who died at the age of seventeen? Would I want to see their daily musings, joys, disappointments, rants, and mistakes? Or would that create too much of a potential to alter my memory of who those people were to me? Perhaps those are questions that can only be answered after the experience of reading such personal reflections has occurred, but then the words cannot be unread.

Do you think you’d like to read a journal written by someone you’ve lost? Have you ever come across the words of a loved one after they’ve passed away? Was it a positive or negative experience to examine their private world? I’d be interested in hearing about your experiences if you’d care to share.

Thanks,
Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

Hurts So Good

A while back I was asking for blogging ideas and someone popped up with the idea of a post on writing angst, and so I thought I'd post an excerpt from Man Oh Man: Writing M/M Fiction for Kinks and Ca$h and perhaps we'll get an interesting discussion going.

Closely aligned to — and often resulting in or from hurt/comfort — is angst.

If your protag is critically injured and languishing in hospital, and his boyfriend is out of town on a secret mission, the hurt/comfort quotient drops, but the angst quotient skyrockets. See how that works?

Like hurt/comfort, angst is a staple of male male romance. As you can imagine all those serious illnesses, critical injuries, nervous breakdowns, rapes, betrayals, addictions, kidnappings, stalkings, deaths in the family, broken dreams, shattered hopes and really really REALLY bad days lead to a certain amount of tension. Even anxiety.


Angst is actually a Germanic word meaning “anxiety.” The Danish philosopher and theologian Kierkegaard, used the term angst to express his belief that the human condition was riddled with despair. He wrote a
philosophical novel called Fear and Trembling. What does that tell you?

Typically we associate angst with adolescence. Few people are better at suffering loudly and noticeably than teenagers. It’s an art form with them, and you have to respect that.

Acne and existential quandaries aside, angst is also a very important ingredient in M/M fiction. Well, not all M/M fiction. Romantic comedy and action/adventure are mercifully angst-free for the most part, but any time your characters are suffering over their conflicted feelings — generally for each other — they are usually angsting.

Please note: if they’re just depressed and insecure, that’s not angst. Angst requires serious suffering. Breaking up with your boyfriend is sad. Your boyfriend dying is tragic. Finding out after your boyfriend dies that he was seeing someone else — now that’s angst.

Death, disease, disaster — this is all angstilicious stuff. High drama is what separates true angst from the anxiety normal to the human condition.

Historical M/M lends itself particularly well to angst. It’s the whole, love that-dare-not-speak-its-name thing. Yaoi is also angstful: all those giant cartoon eyes veritably brim with grief at the human condition — mostly
their own.

Wondering if the object of your affections feels the same is not technically angst — unless you’re under 18. Having a closeted lover, however, is generally grounds for angst.

Because I have a weird sense of humor, the more angstful the story, the more likely I am to find it funny. I guess someone left a banana peel on my pain threshold. Anyway, my advice is that you use angst sparingly.

Less is more. Heaping coals on your hapless character’s head in chapter after chapter just reminds me of those sappy Victorian novels where the noble and long-suffering hero (or heroine) endures tragedy after tragedy only to die with a brave smile and an angelic sentiment upon his rosebud lips after saving a child from the wheels of a train.

In my opinion the more angsty the journey, the more life-affirming and reassuring the happy ending should be — but that’s just me. I’m in favor of happy endings from a purely philosophical standpoint.


Sometimes angst is its own reward — some protagonists do suffer beautifully — but generally it requires comforting. Ideally from the other protagonist. You can see what a vicious cycle this could turn into. It’s
enough to make a grown man cry.

What is it about a book that calls to you?

I’m in the process of renaming my current WIP. Another m/m romance was released last month with the title I had intended for my story. Since the book’s in the same genre I figured it would be wise to head back to the drawing board. Only, I found that searching for a new title has been difficult this time around (heck, every time). It’s not easy to land on a couple of words that encompass the story, that will catch potential readers’ attentions without putting them off considering the book, something unique, but not too out there, and something easy to search for (which I obviously opted to ignore with my previous one-word titles MORE and BREATHE). There’s a lot to consider in a title.

Mostly, I’d like any title to mean something when it comes to the story and the characters.

All this got me to thinking. What drives us as readers to even give a book a second look, let alone buy it? What is it we want to know before purchasing? We don’t want to buy books we won’t enjoy. Why waste our time and money?

What do we use to evaluate if this story is one we’ll like?

The title?

The cover?

The blurb?

The excerpt?

The content?

Theme?

Reviews?

Recommendations from friends?

Previous experiences with the author's other work?

What makes us stop at a book and say, “Yes. This one. I want this one!”

Every week there are more and more m/m romances released, so even if you read exclusively in that one genre, you have a lot of choices these days. More than even two years ago. How do readers make their selections?

I will admit, for me, it’s a combination of all those items listed above. I avoid themes I know aren’t my thing. A great cover might draw my attention. Or maybe a rave review. A link from a friend on FaceBook. But in almost every case, I want to read an excerpt. Especially for new-to-me authors. I want a sample of their voice and the way they tell a story. Catch my attention in the excerpt and I’m clicking the buy button.

So how about you? I’m curious…What do you look for? How do you choose which books to buy? Is the title an important factor? I’d love to hear what motivates you to select your next book.

Thanks,
Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

Come Lie With Me: 3 Tips to Making Sex Scenes Count

For the last week and a half we've had internet connection problems at Chez Lanyon. You don't want to know, but allow me to whine anyway. Between comments and regular email, I get one HELL of a lot of stuff I need to respond to on a daily basis. This is both the pleasure and pain of my job.

There is no argument that I love hearing from readers, and all I can think is I've been sniveling in public lately because the last two weeks have been blessed with such incredibly kind letters from readers.




Should you ever have a down moment, know that there are people out
there who would give all they had just to be in your company, and who feel
a mountain of debt towards you. Should you ever have someone saying you
write too much, or you need to do something different, please, clod them on
the head for us. Should you ever wonder if your life was worthwhile, know
at least one of your readers feels a reconnection to humanity because of you,
is happy because of you, and believes you have made the world a better
place by far. That should surely count for something, right?



I don't even know how to respond to something like that -- I'm so deeply touched. And, as seems to so often happen, that letter came at a point of near-despair. And not over the internet connection (though that didn't help).

When I read things like this--and I've been so incredibly fortunate in my readers that readers care enough to take this kind of time to write--it helps me refocus on the things that matter.

But I seem to be digressing from my original point. My actual point is that, like so many writers, I often feel overwhelmed by the realization of all I'm failing to do. There's so much--writing is only a small part of it. It's the part that matters most to me, certainly--and probably to a lot of readers--but there's just a lot of stuff to do all the time.

Take this post here at Loose Id. I saw the alerts pop up in my email today and I realized that I needed to say something new, something fresh, something...something. And the week has been full of shrieking in full Edgar Allen Poe at ATT (who quoth NEVERMORE) and trying to hit deadlines (so freaking many deadlines) and what can I say that you haven't all heard before?

Probably nothing. But since I seem to be handing out nearly as much advice as I take these days, here are my three never fail tips for writing sex scenes that resonate with readers. Because when in doubt, pull the sex card.

1 - Say something.

Is it just me? I usually have something to say during those moments of, um, intimacy. I mean, unless I'm half asleep, and even then there's usually SOMETHING. Would you knock it off? Something. I'm blown away by how many fictional sex scenes apparently occur in dead silence or nothing more than a few moans and groans.

What a wasted opportunity for building genuine intimacy. People say stuff when they're feeling vulnerable and open and, yes, sexy.


2 - Equipment malfunction

Sometimes the most interesting stuff is what doesn't work. Again, maybe this is just me, but I'm not a machine and I've rarely had sex with machines. And I'd rather not talk about the time I did as I was VERY drunk and Coke doesn't even support that product anymore. (I have no idea what I'm talking about--I'm totally making this up as I go). Anyway...laughter and tears. Those aren't bad things in a scene of intimacy. Part of learning to be with someone is learning to be intimate with someone. And there's usually a learning curve. I like curves.





3 - Make them work for it

Not just the characters. The readers. Familiarity breeds contempt and a sex scene every fifteen pages is just dead boring. Make the characters work for it. Sex scenes mean more when they have ramifications. Sex before you're ready for it, sex with strangers, sex with enemies, sex for sex's sake...there are emotional and psychological ramifications for this stuff. But basically...if you have characters eat ice cream and cake every fifteen pages, it's dull, right? Oh, I know there are readers who live, vibrator in hand, for those scenes, but they don't write letters like the one above, and frankly, I'm not writing for those gals. They're just using me and my vending machine.

It's kind of like any relationship. We have our one night stands and we have our committed relationships. With every book, you make a promise to your readers, and what you're promising is you won't let them down and that you'll be there for the long haul. And even when you have performance anxiety, you'll do your best.

Writers, what are your favorite tips for making sex scenes count? Readers, name your single favorite sex scene in a book.

Memorable Heroes: Courage, Conviction & Vulnerability

I guest blogged earlier this week at Book Lovers Inc. about men and what makes a hero stand out. So today I thought I’d continue with that theme and give a few examples of memorable heroes.

I find all types of men interesting and sexy, but I’ve come to the conclusion that a man who displays courage, conviction, and vulnerability, even if it’s hidden underneath all the walls he’s built, is one of the sexiest types of men.

They are imperfect people who are vulnerable, honest, funny, and caring, and they don’t mind showing those sides of themselves, at least once in a while. They’ll speak up when it really counts -- when they believe strongly in something or when someone needs them.

Who are these guys?
I thought it might be fun to share some of the fictional characters from television and movies that stand out for me. They are vulnerable yet tough, courageous guys you can’t help but fall in love with.

Clark Kent, Superman
“Really, Lois, supposing that man had shot you? Is it worth risking your life over ten dollars, two credit cards, a hairbrush, and a lipstick?”

Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird
“Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.”

Johnny Castle, Dirty Dancing
“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

Malcolm Reynolds, Firefly
“Someone ever tries to kill you, you try to kill 'em right back! Wife or no, you are no one's property to be tossed aside. You got the right same as anyone to live and try to kill people.”

George Bailey, It's a Wonderful Life
“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle. Well in my book, my father died a much richer man than you'll ever be!”

George Hazard, North and South
[to Orry Main] “I've missed you, old friend.”

Vinny Gambini, My Cousin Vinny
“When you look at the bricks from the right angle, they're as thin as this playing card. His whole case is an illusion, a magic trick. It has to be an illusion, 'cause you're innocent. Nobody - I mean nobody - pulls the wool over the eyes of a Gambini, especially this one. Give me a chance, one chance. Let me question the first witness. If after that point, you don't think that I'm the best man for the job, fire me then and there. I'll leave quietly, no grudges. All I ask is for that one chance. I think you should give it to me.”

Hawkeye, M*A*S*H
“I will not carry a gun, Frank. When I got thrown into this war I had a clear understanding with the Pentagon: no guns. I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to Old Virginia, I'll even 'hari-kari' if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun!”

Han Solo, Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope
“No! Stop, Chewie, stop! Chewie! Chewie this won't help me! Hey! Save your strength. There'll be another time. The Princess. You have to take care of her. You hear me? Huh?”

Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark
“Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?”


So what do you think of this list? What characters would you add?

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

Greetings from Keira Andrews

Hello! I've been publishing with Loose Id since 2006, but this is my first time contributing to this blog. Looking forward to getting to know everyone!

I've published both contemporary and historical fiction, and my latest release is The Station, which was my first full-length historical. It was part of Loose Id's Coming Out Day Celebration. Most coming out stories are modern, and I wanted to explore the challenges – and rewards – of coming out in a different era. Despite the serious consequences of coming out in the 1800s, my goal was to explore the freedom and opportunity being yourself could also bring.



Ever since Cambridge-bound Colin Lancaster secretly watched stable master Patrick Callahan mastering the groundskeeper, he’s longed for Patrick to do the same to him. When Patrick is caught with his pants down and threatened with death, Colin speaks up in his defense, announcing that he, too, is guilty of “the love that dare not speak its name.” Soon they’re both condemned as convicts and shipped off to the faraway prison colony of Australia.

Patrick learned long ago that love is a fairy tale and is determined that no one will scale the wall he’s built around his heart. Yet he’s inexorably drawn to the charismatic Colin despite his best efforts to keep him at bay. As their journey extends from the cramped and miserable depths of a prison ship to the vast, untamed Australian outback, Colin and Patrick must build new lives for themselves. They'll have to tame each other to find happiness in this wild new land.

So that's a little about my newest book. As for me, along with writing gay romance, my passions are travel, theatre (especially musicals), ballet, TV, movies and figure skating. Oh, and reading, of course! To sum me up in a nutshell, I don't believe in guilty pleasures. Life is too short for shame!

Favourite place to travel: I love Australia and Italy, but New York City and the Great White Way holds a special place in my heart.
Favourite musical: Spring Awakening, which I've seen 15 times
Favourite ballet: The National Ballet of Canada's Cinderella, not only for the gorgeous choreo, dancing, sets and costumes, but the HEA, which is a welcome respite from all the Russian tragedy in ballet!
Favourite TV show: So hard to choose, but right now my faves are probably Vampire Diaries, Dexter and historical Brit show Garrow's Law.
Favourite movie: Again, a tough choice, but if I can only pick one, it's Stand By Me, which resonated so much with me as a 13-year-old. And for a movie that never fails to make me happy -- Strictly Ballroom.
Favourite figure skater: Of all time: Kurt Browning. Currently I love Patrick Chan, Jeremy Abbott (who broke my heart last week at US Nationals!), and the ice dance team of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir.
Favourite book: Impossible! Right now I have to go with the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. Very powerful story and characters that left a lasting impression after the last page was turned.

Enough about me. What are your favourite things?