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.

Reading and Writing Gay Romance: Finding my place in the world

I saw this video the other day, and it reminded me of what it was like when I read my first gay erotic romance: like I had found my place in the world.


or watch on YouTube


Then as I started writing erotic books featuring gay love stories, I found myself even more comfortable and at ease. And not just with my writing. I was where I belonged.

Writing for publication, although very rewarding, is a long, often times very lonely and challenging career path. I truly believe you have to have a great deal of passion for what you’re doing to keep forging ahead. You have to feel like it’s what you were meant to do.

You have to feel like you’ve found your place in the world.


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. 

Author Names and Avatars

Since I’ve only met a handful of other authors in person, and since a lot of people don’t like to post a photo of themselves on-line, there are many authors whose faces I’ve never seen and whose names I've never heard mentioned aloud. So when I see their names somewhere on-line or in an email, I get an immediate image in my head of their on-line “profile” picture. It might be a favorite image of an embracing couple, one of their book covers, or some other symbol they use to represent their on-line identity.

I even had a dream once where I met up with a few authors I know on-line and one of them was this giant picture of her book cover. She was just sitting there at the table, having a drink, chatting with us as a two-dimensional image that included the book title and her name.

I heard somewhere that we can’t dream the face of a person we’ve never seen. That our subconscious cannot create a human face on the fly. Not sure if that’s true or not, but it does have me wondering who all those people in my dreams are and why I’m casting them in starring roles if I can’t recall who they are.

I also found out recently I’d been pronouncing one of my on-line friend’s name all wrong. For almost three years. I even had to correct my sweetie since she learned the name from me. She’d never actually seen this person’s name in print, just heard me saying it. How was she supposed to know I’d mangled it all up?

This got me thinking… I could be pronouncing people’s names wrong all over the place when I’m recommending their books to friends who’ve never read in the gay romance genre. Uh-oh. Sorry about that guys!

Am I the only one?



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.

On Writing: The Essence and Passion of a Story

Last year Pixar storyboard artist Emma Coats tweeted 22 rules of storytelling. Now that I’m knee-deep into a first draft again (writing the sequel to my m/m/m menage MORE), I keep going back to some of those tips she mentioned when it comes to the basics of storytelling.

Two of my favorites are:
 

“Why must you tell THIS story? What's the belief burning within you that your story feeds off of? That's the heart of it.” -- Emma Coats

“What's the essence of your story? Most economical telling of it? If you know that, you can build out from there.” -- Emma Coats

 

I think these go hand in hand when writing a first draft. I have to know the basics of what I’m trying to say and I have to be driven to share that story. I believe if the author lacks a passion for writing any particular story, the readers can tell.

When first starting a novel-length book, if I don’t have a firm grasp on the core concept of the story as well as the passion to tell that story, I stumble my way through the first draft, going back over the plot outline and who the characters are at their core until I land on the truth of what I’m trying to say.

Some questions I ask myself:

- Who are these men? What do they believe about love? What goals do they have in life? What are their biggest dreams? What are their biggest fears? All of these can help drive the plot.

- What are the basics of the plot in one sentence? One paragraph?

- What is the ending of the story? What happens just before the ending? How are the characters emotionally impacted by the conclusion of the plot?

- What in my own life (what experiences, dreams, hopes, imaginations) is influencing me to write this story?

- What is it about my own beliefs and passions about living life that stirs me to write this story about these characters?

For me the journey of discovering all this is what makes storytelling such a powerful, enjoyable experience. It may stretch out the process of writing that initial draft, but I think my stories would not be the same (and neither would I) without it.

You can read the full list of Coats’s tweets here:
The 22 rules of storytelling, according to Pixar
 


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  

The only easy day was yesterday

No matter how much I love writing, some days I can really relate to this quote.

“The writing process for some books is the equivalent of hitting ourselves in the head with a sledgehammer over and over and over. Being a romance author is not unlike being a Navy Seal. The only easy day was yesterday.”  -Suzanne Brockmann

Each part of the writing process has its own challenges and rewards. Some writers find the first draft the most enjoyable and inspiration-filled time, while others find that the revising and editing is where they love storytelling the most. For me, the latter is where the real creative breakthroughs happen. The ones that inspire me to keep on writing, where the little bits of dialogue and character interaction and setting details start to come together to make the story about something more powerful and engaging than the original draft, where everything comes alive.

Regardless of where I’m at in the creation process, filling a blank document with more than 80,000 words can be challenging, to say the least. Turning those words into an entertaining story seems impossible when I’m first staring at a blank document. Each and every time I get to the end and re-read a finished manuscript, I am still amazed that I did what I set out to do. I took the spark of an idea and turned it into characters who feel like real people to me, men who are experiencing the ups and downs of life while falling in love.

It’s such a rush to be a writer of fiction!

But yeah, the only easy day was yesterday. Because when I get to the end of a manuscript, I’m often left wondering...how the hell did I do that? And can I do it again?

All I can say to myself is that I’ll find out. I have every intention of taking the ride once more.

Get the sledgehammer out because I’m going again!


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   

See Your Words

For all you bloggers and writers out there, or for anyone who loves playing with words: If you haven’t checked it out before, Wordle.net is a nifty web app that allows you to see your, or anyone else’s, words in a different way than standard lines of text.

The app creates word clouds from text you copy into a form or live from a blog or website RSS feed.

From Wordle.net: “The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text. You can tweak your clouds with different fonts, layouts, and color schemes. The images you create with Wordle are yours to use however you like. You can print them out, or save them to the Wordle gallery to share with your friends.”

Wordle can be a fun and interesting way for:

- writers to examine the frequency of words used in a chunk of text
- authors to share a sample or preview of their writing with readers
- bloggers to post a summary of all the blogs on their site
- anyone to graphically play with the words they love

I’ve been hearing about this site for a while and finally had a chance to check it out. I’m creating samples for each of my books and adding them to my website as a fun preview of each story. Here are some of the sites and text samples I’ve tried:
 
My blog

Loose Ends (Loose Id Author) blog

From an excerpt of my book BREATHE

The keyword tags used on my website

Give it a try yourself. Just copy and paste whatever text you want to view into the form at Wordle.net.

Have fun!

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 

Do spoilers ruin your enjoyment of a story?

The other day I was talking with a friend about movie spoilers and whether they ruin the experience of watching the movie, specifically spoilers that give away the plot twists in thrillers or mysteries. She mentioned a study that she’d heard about last year that examined spoilers and books.

I found this article referencing the study: Spoilers Don't Ruin Stories from The Huffington Post. It posed some interesting questions.

The author of the article asked, “is plot irrelevant, and is a story really about the process as opposed to the result? Or are there just two types of people in this world -- ones that enjoy spoilers and ones who don't?”

Other paraphrased points/questions the article raised:

• Is the value of a story in how it’s told?
• Do readers enjoy books where they know the outcome more because it’s easier to read?
• Does it lessen the stress of “negative” plot twists to know they are coming?

One of my nieces does three things to sample stories before she selects a book. She reads the first page, a page in the middle, and the very last page. She does this to get a sense of the style of writing to make sure it’s something she’ll want to read for an entire novel and to check that none of the characters she may come to care for are going to die in the end.

I imagine with only three sampled pages she might miss a major character dying off, but it seems to be a system that works for her. She devours books and speed-reads at an astounding rate. Apparently, knowing the end of the story does not diminish her enjoyment of reading. In fact, I’d say it helps her lessen the “severe emotional stress” the Huffington Post article refers to, so she can sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey.

To some extent, I can understand that. When I read a romance, I expect the two (or more) people the story is about to end up together and for the arc of their relationship to have a satisfactory, happy ending. This, of course, can be subjective. My definition of “happy” and someone else’s might not mesh. When I finish a romance and it doesn’t fit my brand of happy, I’m disappointed and wished I’d known the ending going into the book. I might have read it anyway or I might have picked a more romantic story.

What do you think? Do you mind spoilers for the books you read?

What about books that are heavy on mystery or suspense? Would you like to know how it all works out in the end before you start the book?

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com
Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSloanParker
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sloanparker 

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

How Not to Write

I don’t get writers block very often. Usually it’s a brief (or a bit longer) pause of not knowing how to describe something. As someone who outlines, I usually know where I’m going with a story. Even if that story unfolds differently than I planned, the outline always gives me a goal to write toward for each scene.

When moments of being seriously blocked happen, I try to push on through and get some ideas down so I can move on to the next part of the story where I won’t be as blocked. I can always revise later (I revise like crazy anyway), but at least I’m moving forward.

However, there are times when my creativity is blocked so badly when I’m writing an outline or a first draft that I’m staring at the blank page in terror. In those moments, I find it’s important to have a plan.

Sloan’s 20 Steps to Dealing with Writer’s Block (Do not try this at home):

1) Grab some SUGAR! Nothing gets me hyper like sugar. Hyper Sloan can type faster. Even if the words make no sense, at least I feel a sense of accomplishment as my fingers fly over the keyboard.

2) When my fingers slow again, take a break and browse Tumblr. Some of my followers post the best stuff for inspiration. But that usually leads me to writing a sex scene and I’m not often blocked when writing sex. Time to get back to the scene I want to write.

3) Have more sugar.

4) Browse Twitter. Oh, look there’s a great picture of two guys driving down the road on motorcycles, both in tuxes.

5) Start brainstorming a new story about a couple of newlyweds.

6) Damn, this is not the time for a new story. Must focus on something else.

7) Look around the house at the 56 unfinished projects I never seem to find time to complete (like that envelope of photos that need to go into an album, that pile of clothes to sort through and take in for donation, and the huge stack of papers that need filed). Pick up one of the projects that looks most appealing.

8) Five minutes later, stop working on said project once I remember why I never finished it in the first place. Writing is more fun. Even if I’m blocked.

9) Okay, more sugar and back to the story.

10) Try interviewing my characters. “What’s on your mind? What are you feeling right now? What do you want to do? What do you wish I’d write about for you?”

11) Tell them to shut the hell up when all they answer with is SEX. This is not the right time for them to have sex. Or I probably wouldn’t be blocked. Sheesh.

12) Browse through my outline for an upcoming scene that will spark my creativity and get me excited to write this story again.

13) Throw the outline across the room when my inner critique tries to tell me I suck.

14) Open my email and read a couple of the lovely messages I've received from readers who’ve enjoyed my work. Remind myself: it’s not just me that I’m writing this story for. (THANK YOU, readers!!)

15) Open the document and stare at the blank page again. Talk about pressure!

16) More sugar.

17) Pet the cat. This calms me down after too much sugar.

18) Fall into a heavy sugar-induced sleep.

19) Wake up and start again.

20) Repeat as needed.

Thank God I have more “good” writing days than “bad” ones. The bad days are exhausting.

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

They saw a swing set. I saw a dinosaur.

I watched this video the other day, and all I kept thinking was how interesting it was that I saw regular, everyday pushpins, but the artist saw something very different.

Here’s the video:



Or you can view here on YouTube

It got me thinking that perhaps that’s how non-writers must look at writers.

People who don’t spend their days writing fiction often ask me how I can create a story out of nothing. How I can take a blank document and come up with a 100,000-word story that makes sense and is engaging for readers (or so I hope). My answer is usually a quick comment about there being little else I’d rather spend my time doing. Which of course tells them nothing about the process of writing or how I come up with ideas, but there’s only so much you can get into standing in your aunt’s kitchen on Christmas Eve, balancing a glass and a paper plate filled with three crackers and some funky cheese spread you’re not sure you want to finish.

A longer response might include references to the vast amount of story ideas and “what if” scenarios running through my head, and that if I didn’t feel like I had an outlet for some of those, I might drive myself insane.

It might also include mention of my nutty color-coded index cards and post-it note system, but that just makes me look crazy organized to non-writers (and many writers).

 
Another, simpler answer might be that the desire to make up stories, to play in worlds of my own imagination is something I was born with. A part of me that made me different from the other kids in school who preferred sitting on the swings at recess rather than climbing to the top of the swing set and making up their own elaborate fictional words where ordinary playground equipment turned into dinosaurs that could be controlled as they roamed in search of defectors of the forest lands.

Yeah, I was that kid on the playground.

My imagination may have made me a bit different from the other kids, but I’m okay with that. In fact, I’m more than okay with that. I celebrate it every time I sit down at my computer to work on another story. 

What do you celebrate about yourself?

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

What One Thing Can’t You Live Without?

I recently completed an interview with Julie Hayes (available on her blog December 9). One of the questions she asked was “You’re marooned on a small island with one person and one item of your choice—who is that person and what item do you have?”

Well, of course I’d take my partner, but what about the object?

What if it was truly a deserted island with no electricity (and not one with a hatch filled with food and a washer and dryer like in Lost)? What one item would I want to have with us? What couldn’t I live without?

Should I take something to pass the time? A deck of cards? A favorite book?

Something to help with our rescue? Or with our survival? A box of matches or a Swiss-Army knife? How about the U.S. Army Survival Handbook?

I ended up cheating and saying I would assume I could have a solar-powered battery for my laptop. Even without the Internet, I could write for hours, read all the e-books I have saved on my hard drive. Heck, I could even play solitaire. And if I really planned ahead on the off chance I'd get marooned, I could download all five seasons of Queer as Folk to my laptop before we left.

I know, that really is cheating. I’m still stumped on what I’d take if there wasn’t power. I’m a writer, you’d think I could come up with something. Perhaps I’m too attached to things and can’t pick just one. Or I rely on too many tangible objects in life.

How about you? What one thing would you want with you? What can’t you live without?

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

When You Need a Laugh

After a really long week, I’m in the mood to share something light and fun. The following are Twitter hashtags and users who occasionally give me a laugh or share an interesting fact or quote. Even if you aren’t on Twitter, you can still click on the links and check them out. I’ve included a sampling of tweets with each hashtag or Twitter user listed below.

(For those of you who are not familiar with a hashtag, it’s a way for users to search and follow themed content across all tweets by using the # symbol to mark keywords or topics in a Tweet.)


#FiveWordsAfterSex

• Note to self: Buy batteries (via @TweakerTweets)
   
• I can't feel my legs (via @Brownskin_Mo)
   
• Round four in the shower (via @Arii_B_SoReal)
   
• Guess you're not Gay (via @Treehousecasino) 

@OMGFactsSex

• Despite conventional wisdom, men are actually more romantic than women! --- http://ow.ly/6J0pE
   
• An identical twin has 20-50% chance of being gay if the other is
   
• People have had sex 'on' the Moon! How so? -- http://t.co/BpTYPTjk
   
• Men's testosterones levels rise by 45.7% after 7 days of not ejaculating! Details -- http://t.co/Ab7Szmy9
   
• 34% of men admitted that they told lies to have sex

#sexquote

• Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night. - Rodney Dangerfield (via @Regeene)
   
• Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand. - Woody Allen (via @Regeene)
   
• Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any. (via @MeghanJade)

#WorstPickUpLines

• I like your clothes, I bed they'd look even better on my bedroom floor (via @387wagner)
   
• girl I know yo feet hurt cause you been runnin through my mind all night! (via @FromLA_France)
   
• Do you like clocks? (Yes.) Put two hands and a face on this. (Point down) (via @SindeeDanger)
   
• Are my undies showing? Answer: "No." You: "Would you like them to? (via @The_WunderKind)

Do you have a hashtag or user you follow that gives you a good laugh?

You Are Already Naked

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about goals and accomplishments. My editor and I have just sent my upcoming release off to line edits. Yay!

It feels good to be getting closer to the completion of this project. Take Me Home was an unexpected story for me and definitely threw my goals off the original plan for 2011. I’m okay with that, though. I’m extremely proud of how this one turned out. It did, however, mean I had to put a hold on my other manuscript and thus put a longer gap between my releases than I would have liked.

For that reason, and the many other roadblocks that we writers face, it can be easy to get discouraged in this business and give into the fear that comes with putting your creativity out into the world.

The quote below started making the rounds again after the recent passing of Steve Jobs. I think it’s a great quote for anyone who has a dream of accomplishing something but are afraid to try, to put themselves out there where failure is a real possibility, especially public failure. As an author, I can relate to that fear. Most writers live with it on a continual basis.

"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

- Steve Jobs in a commencement address at Stanford in 2005

Fear (of failure and success) can be a part of what makes it difficult to push forward with any goal. One way to look at it is along the lines of what Steve Job was saying: in the end what do you really have to lose by trying? Another way to look at it is that most accomplishments require a series of tasks. Break down a goal into tasks and it becomes less frightening and more manageable.

Very few writers can create a publishable first draft. And those who do often edit and revise as they write that draft. They have a process that involves re-reading their work as they write, either chapter by chapter or at the beginning of a writing session or whenever they get stuck and need to go back over what they’ve written. It varies for everyone. Even with creative endeavors there are steps that one can take, a process that works for the individual writer or painter or musician or whatever, and moving forward with those steps is the way the end result is achieved.

That’s how many goals are accomplished, how dreams are discovered. Through creativity, diligence, and perseverance.

Just think about where Steve Jobs (and Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak) started with Apple and how far personal computers advanced during his lifetime. Sure, he was only one part of that achievement, but the advancement of the technology does illustrate how far a dream can go.

FROM THIS...

1976 - Apple I
Photo Credit: Flickr/Ed Uthman


TO THIS...

2010 - iPad
Photo Credit: Apple

So, for all of you out there with a dream to achieve a specific goal—whether it’s writing or mountain climbing or losing weight or anything else—I hope you see that you are already naked and decide to give it a try.

“To reach a port, we must sail—Sail, not tie at anchor—Sail, not drift.”
- Franklin Roosevelt

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com