Author Interview: Charli Coty

Today I’m welcoming Charli Coty to the blog to talk about life, writing and Speedbump, which features bisexual and genderqueer main characters.

Interview

Welcome! I can’t tell you how excited I was to see a book with non-binary gender representation. And of course, bisexuals. What inspired you to write it?

When I started writing Speedbump my main motivation was to write something completely different. After spending a few years with the Buchanan House family “completely different” felt pretty subjective. A wide variety of folx live in those stories but the books focus on the cis gay and bi men. Going back to the very beginning, the idea was to write a Bi + Bi love story and to really push myself and tell a story I wanted to read but couldn’t find—even more than I had with Torque. I started with a first line, a vague idea that the main character was genderqueer, and that the love interest would be Red Long. After a lot of drafting (that often felt as though it was going nowhere) the story took on a life of its own. That’s always a relief; as a pantser, I’m never sure what I have is really a story until that happens.

As a semi-pantser myself, I can relate to that. And different is always good. Speaking of relating, is there a character in your work you feel especially connected to? Why?

To be honest, the character in Speedbump I identify with the most is Red, my washed-up musician. It wasn’t easy to explore what happens when someone’s dream in life doesn’t work out the way they’d hoped, how that affects a person’s self-image and their relationships. He challenged me to look at dreams and goals in a new light—and not only his.

I sense a lot of people these days are feeling that heartache. Seems like we all need to find ways to connect a bit more.

On that subject, have you ever been to a writing conference? If so, how was it? If not, is there one you want to attend?

I’ve been to a few and really enjoyed them. When I was a baby writer I went to a few Portland-based writing conferences and learned tons from some truly wonderful authors, agents, and editors. Those writing cons are fun and not only for the workshops and panel discussions. I’m an introvert but didn’t have any trouble chatting with complete strangers while surrounded by hundreds of writers. It would be impossible to count how many times I’ve asked and answered this question: “So, what do you write?”

Reader-focused cons are cool because you can hang out with other writers AND meet the folks who make it all possible! I attended Gay Romance Northwest (which later became Read With Pride) for the past three years, and just being there with folks who love LGBTQIA+ books was sublime. I’d never been so completely surrounded by my tribe before and will never forget what it felt like to know I could be my whole self without fear. It was a dream come true to have readers recognize my books, and having readers visit my table at the book fairs was extra sweet. I’m sad this con has been discontinued. I’d love to find another queer-centric con in the Northwest that doesn’t focus solely on speculative fiction. If anyone out there knows of one, please clue me in! <3

That does sound amazing! I’m all the way on the other side of the country, and writing conferences in driving distance are hard to find.

Okay, time for word sprints!

Plotter or pantser?

Pantser; plotting scares my muse.

Cats or dogs?

Fish! And cats. But mostly fish.

Musical theater or rock concert?

Live music—and not only rock, I’ve also seen Itzak Pearlman live and the first time I took the train from Portland to Seattle was to see Ann and Nancy Wilson and Alice in Chains with the Seattle Symphony.

That sounds so cool. Thanks for stopping by! I hope you’ll join us again for future releases.

About the Book

Title: Speedbump

Date: February 5, 2018

Publisher: NineStar Press

Length: 68,200 words

Categories: bisexual, genderqueer, contemporary romance

Synopsis

Getting broken wasn’t supposed to fix everything.

Ezra Cook is sole caregiver to older brother Tray, who was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s in his forties. They live outside the small town of Drop, Oregon, on property Tray bought with his Microsoft settlement money. For years, Ezra has been going on and off low doses of testosterone to maintain a comfortable level of androgyny. Ezra spends most days juggling Tray’s needs and the work required to survive in rural Oregon on a small income, ignoring their own needs, especially companionship and sleep.

Ellred “Red” Long escaped Drop at seventeen but returns to his hometown in disgrace after his band dumped him on the streets of LA. Coming back doesn’t seem like such a dead end, though, after he sees a guy walking along the side of the road in the rain and gives him a lift.

Ezra and Red’s chance meeting begins an uncomfortable friendship neither had expected, and both allow fear to keep it from escalating into a hookup, or worse, a romance. Red never meant to return to Drop and doesn’t want to get stuck there again, while Ezra’s protective walls may be too strong to breach, from either side.

Purchase Links

Nine Star Press | Amazon Global Link | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

Excerpt

It had been a while since the last time a moving vehicle hit me, but I wasn’t in the mood to take chances. The night was dark—no moon and only a smattering of stars peeking between the clouds. At least the rain had finally stopped. The county road I was walking along was flat, but I’d just passed a turn when headlights flashed behind me, coming up fast. A blind turn the locals had been known to straighten now and then, especially when the weekend and low visibility coincided.

I ran toward the neighbor’s patched fence, toward safety in the form of a boulder guarding the apex of the turn, hoping whoever sat behind the wheel didn’t mean to run me down. The way my luck was going that night, with the unexpected rain and Granddad’s truck quitting, it surprised me when the car stopped and I was still standing upright.

The GTO—the 1964 stock GTO that I knew to be deep purple but looked black right then—rocked gently and then settled. It rocked again when he leaned across the seat to roll the window down. Even if he’d seen my truck, he wouldn’t know who I was. He’d left town before we moved here, and only one thing about me is at all noteworthy anyway. Everyone knew the day he’d come back to town. Red Richardson—also known as Ellred Long, the name he got the day he was born. Back from Los Angeles where he’d never really made it, but he’d come close enough to be a Big Man in this little backwash town of five hundred (give or take). What he was doing so far off the highway or any of the main roads, I had no clue.

“Hey,” he shouted. Even only hearing him shout, you couldn’t help but know the man could sing. “Let me give you a lift. It’s starting to rain again.”

Slowly, to give myself time to figure out what was going on, I approached the passenger side of the car. I didn’t want to get in—that was trouble waiting to happen if I’d ever seen it—but I wasn’t looking forward to walking for another two hours either. I bent and looked in the window, a safe four feet between me and the car. A blast of warm air hit my face, and I tried not to look too hard at him. He always wore nice button-down shirts, in videos or going to the Mini Mart in Drop—jewel-tone red, purple, black—that looked like silk.

“Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere. Just out driving.”

Even in the dark, I could see his brilliant smile. He probably paid good money for that whiteness. I couldn’t see his long black hair or whether he was clean-shaven or had that short patch of beard he sometimes wore on his chin, but the smile did me in on its own.

“Where are you headed out here on foot in the middle of the night?” Red asked.

“Home.” A few steps closer won’t hurt. Maybe. “My truck quit a mile back.”

“The white International? That’s a shame. Cool old truck.”

We stared at each other another minute, sizing up the situation, and then he reached across and opened the door. He saw a dirty guy, obviously the one who’d filled the bed of said truck with firewood. A filthy, wet, and tired guy who only wanted to get home.

He has no idea.

About the Author

Charli misspent a large chunk of her youth on the back of a Harley, meeting people and having adventures that sometimes pop up in their fiction. Mx Coty writes everything from contemporary to paranormal, always with a happy ending. Charli has survived earthquakes, tornadoes, and floods, but couldn’t make it through one day without stories.

Charli Coty is a pseudonym of the author known as Charley Descoteaux.

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