Arts

Guest Post and Book Review: Author Shea Zellweger

I’m really excited to have Shea guest posting today. I’m pretty sure I haven’t had the pleasure before. He’s here to promote his novel, Untitled, a futuristic murder mystery of sorts. You can read my review following his post.

Fiction Writing Lexicography

When sitting down to write a work of fiction, an author has a whole host of choices to make about the sort of language xe will use. I guess this is a bit of a truism, since everyone who’s ever written anything has had to choose xis words from among whatever vocabulary xe has at xis disposal, but fiction takes things a step further. Xe has to make decisions for a host of characters, all of whom are presumable not xer, while at the same time remaining faithful to xis personal convictions about what sort of language xe will or will not use. In short, a fiction author must take the existing language(s) in which xis book is written, then do a bunch of subtracting – and possibly a bit of adding – to come up with a unique lexicon for the project at hand.

As readers, we have all been conditioned to accept this practice without giving it much thought. When it comes to subtraction, we hardly notice when a skilled author leaves huge swaths of language out of a book; even words as common as “very,” “like,” “that,” and “kerfuffle.” Likewise, we tend to accept quite a bit in the way of new introductions to the lexicon. When William Gibson made up the word “cyberspace” for a story he wrote in the 80s, readers barely even batted an eye.[1] Swear words, in particular, have a longstanding history of being removed from the lexicon and replaced with such delightful nonsense terms as “frak,” “nerfherder,” and “gorram.” You can’t prove I’m a sci fi fan. Shut up. In recent years racial, ethnic, and other sorts of slur have also been tossed aside in favor of new, meaningless epithets, which have in turn become offensive in their own right. For the most part, nobody bats an eye at these things. Unless Dr. Seuss does them. He went a little overboard on the whole word inventing thing, and it turns out people noticed.

Once in a while, however, we are still surprised by an author’s lexicographical choices for xis story. This was the case for early readers of Untitled, who had to make an adjustment to an addition I made. It’s the same adjustment you’ve had to make in reading this piece: my use of a set of gender-neutral pronouns.[2] The book passed through the hands of about half a dozen beta readers, editors, and other critiques, not to mention four particularly dimwitted poodles, and each one had more or less the same remark: “It took me a little bit to get used to the xe[3] thing.” Only one questioned why I included it in my lexicon.[4] After all, I’d written other stuff set in the future, with a much more positive tone, and hadn’t felt the need to break in the X key on my typewriter. Why was it a part of this story? I think the answer to that question can only explained by drawing back the shower curtain of my world building process. B

When I set out to build the world of Untitled, I had this idea: What if there was a future where many proposed solutions for society’s ills had been implemented, yet those ills remained? With that as my guiding principle, I built my landscape. I provided universal housing, yet at least two of the characters are homeless.[5] I torpedoed the prison industrial complex and did away with recidivism, but hardened criminals remained in abundance. I even eliminated wars over ideology and, well, you’ll have to read it to see how that works out. So when it came to the issue of sexism, I made my world one of gender blindness, where characters even think in gender neutral terms. We don’t even escape the first chapter before the rampant sexism faced by the Main Character is exposed in all its glory. All the xes and xises in the world do nothing to prevent Felicity from bumping her head repeatedly on an exceedingly intact glass ceiling. The ideology of many people (myself among them) becomes the gilded veneer laid over a world which proves rotten to its core. Of course, being the sort of writer I am, the contrast between said veneer and core becomes the basis for most of the book’s humor, because in my mind every story is meant to be a comedy.

[1] It was Gibson’s debut novel a couple of years which eventually led to the term’s widespread use. His reputation as the “noir prophet” of cyberpunk may come in part from his predicting a word would be used, then being the one to fulfill the prediction. Some would suggest this constitutes cheating.

[2] Actually, you didn’t have to make the adjustment, but since you’ve chosen to read this far, I’m assuming you did so. Which works out really well, because now you can read my book without any adjustment period whatsoever. Congratulations!

[3] I use xe, xer, xis, xisself in Untitled. The more widely accepted conjugation is xe, xem, xyr, but I know a number of genderqueer individuals who would prefer those pronouns be used to indicate people of nonbinary genders, rather than as neuter.

[4] Well, two, but the second was one of the poodles, and her question was actually “Why did you use gender neutral pronouns instead of Snausages?” so I’m going to say it doesn’t count.

[5] Also, at least two of the characters are called Rupert. None of the homeless people are called Rupert, though. Funny how that works.

If you’re in the mood for a different take on the classic detective novel, this is the one for you. I enjoyed Shea’s writing style for its twist on the usual mystery tropes blended with a highly literary word-crafting. There are some takeaways regarding social structure, which I won’t spoil for you here. What I got from it is that we may try to dismantle power structures, but the nature of humanity is such that sometimes all we do is shuffle things around because we haven’t really reorganized our thinking—only our rules and language. As a person who falls outside several binary identities, I can appreciate this view.

There’s some world-building in the story which might require more development in order to get the most out of the social commentary, but it’s sufficient for a short novel. The end of the story leaves open the possibility for more, though it could also be read as closure in and of itself.

Fair warning, this is probably not a novel for everyone. It’s not a for-entertainment-purposes-only kind of story, and even though there is some lgbtq content, it’s definitely not a romance. However, if you like mystery, literary fiction, science fiction, and a bit of dark humor, this is definitely one you’ll want to pick up.

Buy the Book

Amazon

WIPpet Wednesday: So That’s Where They Went

Fiction, Other Relationships, Writing

Welcome, Wednesday! It’s officially the first day of summer vacation. We’ll see how much I actually get done with two kids home full-time for the next couple of months.

As promised, here is the video from the dress rehearsal of their Irish dance recital. This is there hard shoe dance. I’ll try to get their dance drama posted before next week if I’m not too busy breaking up fights. My son is the taller boy, all the way on the left. My daughter is the one next to the other boy. Their studio is the only non-competitive one in the area (that’s a whole other story).

On to this week’s WIPpet.

We’re back with Trevor and Andre because I’m not ready to switch over yet. (I know! I know! I promise more Cat for you when I’m done with all the edits for Anthem, but it’s tricky due to spoilers.) You may recall we left our guys deciding “not here” in the middle of the dance floor. As you can see from the snippet below, they clearly found somewhere to go. It probably wasn’t their best option, and there will be consequences neither of them intended.

WIPmath: 24th = 2 + 4 = 6 (- 1 because it’s the first day of summer vacation) = 5 paragraphs

Leaning in, Andre kissed Trey full on the mouth. Trey hummed against his lips, returning the light, tender embrace. Andre withdrew and gave Trey a peck on the cheek. The blush was back, but the look of ecstasy on Trey’s face slid away when their eyes met, replaced by panic. He began breathing rapidly again, but it was clearly no longer from pleasure. Fumbling a little, he tucked himself away and zipped his fly.

“You okay?” Andre asked, touching Trey’s trembling hand.

Trey shook his head and pulled his arm away. “I have to go,” he mumbled.

He yanked at the latch on the door and finally managed to get it open, nearly banging it into Andre’s nose on the way out. Andre hurriedly dragged his jeans back up and rushed after Trey. It was obvious the poor guy didn’t know how he felt about what they’d just done, and Andre didn’t want to leave things that way. By the time he got out into the hallway, there was no sign of Trey.

Andre leaned against the wall and blew out his breath. His pocket vibrated, and he pulled out his phone. It was a text from Julian asking where he was and how things had gone with “that blond hottie.” Andre ran a hand over his face before sending a text back saying, “I’ll give you your five dollars in the morning.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket and closed his eyes, knowing he would have to endure Julian’s questions the entire train ride home. Huffing, he pushed off the wall and walked slowly out of the hallway.

Like what you read? There are more awesome entries here, thanks to K. L. Schwengel providing this space for us. If you want to add your own, post a bit of your work-in-progress, connect it to the date, and add the link. We do this every Wednesday. Happy reading and writing!

So, what DO you write?

Faith and Spirituality, Writing

Every so often, I get a question I’m not sure how to answer. Sometimes I simply don’t have the right words, but more often it’s because of the context or the asker. Yesterday, I had someone ask for a copy of my novel. Usually, this question simply annoys me. I’m an author—I prefer to get paid for what I do. If I give a copy to every person who asks, I won’t earn a living. More often than not, I wish I could answer the query with, “Do I ask you to do your job for free?”

In this context, which happened to be at church, I had a different internal reaction. Of course, I still prefer people buy my work. However, when it comes to Christians asking what I write or wanting a copy, I’m touchy about it for other reasons.

I used to keep my spiritual life and my professional life more or less separate. This is in part because of some negative experiences at a former church in which I was…threatened might be too harsh a word, but I was definitely on their radar for posting about controversial (to them) issues. Upon finding a new church home, despite the lovely sticker on the door assuring me of their inclusivity, I haven’t been entirely forthcoming about certain aspects of my life or work.

More recently, especially since publishing one novel and having a second in the queue (and three for 2016!), I’ve been a bit more open. Cue the all the questions about my writing, right along with my sweating palms, shaking knees, and bright red blush. I’m still stuck in the headspace of my days having to hide vital parts of my personhood to appease anyone who might be inclined to suggest my eternal whereabouts. (With good reason; this actually happened to me. I had a private message from someone I thought was a friend telling me I was consorting with “lesbian satanists” and Jesus had “shaken the dust from his feet over me.” Okay, yeah, that’s kind of funny in hindsight. It was hurtful at the time.)

Now, bear in mind, the woman who asked about my book yesterday is an open-minded, intelligent person, and I love talking to her and her husband. They are terrific people and probably the last folks who would have kittens over something I wrote. I’m also at low-risk of a pitying and/or threatening phone call regarding my church membership, since we don’t work that way. I think my one and only conversation about it with my pastor can be summed up by this exchange:

She: Oh, you’re an author?

Me: Yes.

She: What do you write?

Me: [thinking, Shit! Don’t ask me that!] Um, I don’t think it’s exactly church appropriate. I wouldn’t put it in the library.

She: It’s fiction, right?

Me [thinking, What does that have to do with anything?]: Yes, of course.

She: Then I’m sure it’s fine.

Me [thinking, That’s because you haven’t read it.]: Uh…

True Confession Time: I may or may not have been…misleading about the degree of romance in my novel in order to end the conversation (my pastor has assured me she doesn’t read romance). Wait…she might be reading this. Um, if so, I’m sorry! My anxiety about people with spiritual authority and being put on church discipline is a separate blog post. Or a therapy session or ten; whichever.

I’m sure I’ve built it up in my mind far more than any reaction I’d actually get. I’ve been surprised before. I had three women (all of whom are avid fans of Game of Thrones and none of whom are religious) say to me after reading my first novel, “That was more sex than I prefer.” So…violence and rape are ho-hum but guys having (not even very explicit!) ass sex is too much. You may see why I worry about what I’m going to tell people at church.

On the other hand, I also have had several (straight) men tell me they loved the book. That was equally surprising. It’s not primarily a love story, so that may have been the appeal and why the sex wasn’t especially concerning. I also had several reviewers (all women) tell me it was “not sexy.” Well, yes, you see, because it wasn’t a damn romance! There’s just no predicting what sort of response I’ll get.

I suppose therein lies the problem. I’m used to the eye rolls, the worries about my soul, the offhand comments. I’m used to losing friends over who I am and what I choose to speak and write about. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I care deeply what others think of me. Having people believe my salvation is in danger plays on my greatest lifelong fear: rejection, be it by humans or by God. I’m honestly not sure which I think is worse.

Anyway, I think I may give a copy of the novel to the lovely woman at church. She strikes me as the sort who a) won’t care that it’s not a romance and b) won’t care that there’s non-hetero sex in it. The idea of letting people at church in on my work and still being able to look them in the eye when we pass the peace is appealing. I think I’m finally ready to let go of my fears surrounding some religious folks’ conservative values and start embracing my authentic self—including my professional writing.

Dear anyone from my church reading this: Please know I love you all dearly. I’m owning my fears, and it’s not your fault. I was in very different circles for more than twenty years before we met. Unlearning takes time.

WIPpet Wednesday: Stringing You Along

Books, Fiction, Gender, Other Relationships, Writing

Dance is over for the year. I’m both happy and sad. The recitals were fantastic. I haven’t gotten the videos all up on YouTube yet, but as soon as I do, I’ll post the link.

On to this week’s WIPpet. As you may recall, I was working on a Top Secret Project. The reason I kept it under wraps is that my next novel, Passing on Faith, isn’t due out until November. However, this project is no longer hush-hush because I committed to it, and it’s now all official. I’m going to be very busy for the rest of this year—I have three novels with projected dates for 2016.

If you looked at the link, you could probably make a guess about which one I kept hidden. Some of you who have been doing WIPpets for a while might remember this lovely character from last year:

Micah nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around slowly and came face-to-face with a gingery-blond young man. He was average height, perhaps an inch or two shorter than Micah, and had a wiry build. There was a dusting of freckles across his pale skin, and he had a row of small hoops down one ear. In the other ear, he wore a dangling earring that looked like some kind of leaf. He had on a trendy pair of black knee-length pants and a fitted white t-shirt with a rock band logo Micah didn’t recognize. His gray-green eyes were wide and held a spark of mischief, and his mouth curled upward in a charming smirk.

No, not Micah, who is the POV character in Passing on Faith. For those of you who weren’t here, the cute, freckled redhead is Cat. He’s more or less the personification of my muse, in case anyone wondered. Anyway, I felt he deserved his very own story, so I wrote a prequel for him. It’s in round one edits, so technically it’s a work-in-progress. Here’s just a tiny bit of the draft.

WIPmath: 17th = 1+ 7 = 8 paragraphs.

There was a knock on Cat’s door, and he got up from his bed to open it. He could tell something was on his sister’s mind, but she hesitated on the threshold. They’d been close once upon a time. It wasn’t as though they’d had some huge falling out; it was more a gradual slide while LR became more studious and he rebelled against the entire previous eighteen years of his life. Now here she stood, biting her lip and looking for all the world like she had no idea how to talk to him. He motioned her in, and she accepted, walking into his room to sit on his bed. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times before clearing her throat.

“I wish you would talk to us, Cat,” she said.

He flopped onto the bed next to her and lay back, staring up at the ceiling. Her words didn’t justify an answer, not even in the form of a prayer.

“It’s just…well, we don’t know how to help you.”

Cat huffed. He didn’t need help. Couldn’t they see that? He was perfectly fine. He was going to spend the rest of his life doing penance for getting into so much trouble, and that was as it should be. Keeping himself healthy was the top priority anyway. He could maintain his vows indefinitely, just like being in a religious order but without the actual monastery. Much simpler this way, and he could still help out in his mother’s cafe.

LR let out a tiny breath. She lay back too, and her fingers found Cat’s. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn her face toward him. “I love you, big brother. I miss shopping with you and painting our nails and picking out just the right lip gloss for you, if not for me.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “If you change your mind, they’re having a sale at Linder’s Drugs this week on flavored gloss. I’ll bet you’d like the pineapple one.”

Without another word, she rose form the bed and slipped out of his room. For a long time, Cat stayed in the same position, wishing he could tell her he missed all those things too.

Next week, Trevor and Andre will be back. I just couldn’t hold onto this news any longer. I may post a bit more from this one in the future if I can find enough that isn’t spoilery. Here’s a link to the full summary.

Many thanks to K. L. Schwengel for giving us space to share. If you want to read more or join in, here’s the link. To add your own, post a bit of your work in progress, connect it to the date, and link up. Happy reading and writing!

WIPpet Wednesday: Then Where?

Fiction, Other Relationships, Writing

It’s Wednesday! This weekend marks the last of the Big Events for my kids. Unfortunately, that means two dance recitals in one weekend. The cool thing is the dance drama they’re doing for Irish dance. Then one more week of dance classes (party time!), less than two weeks of school, and…summer vacation! (For them, not really for me.) As much as I love watching my kids perform, it’s also nice to have it behind us.

I’m working on several projects at once, since I have several things due this summer. I’m not sure how much more I’m going to post on Anthem and whether I’ll switch to another project or stick with this since it’s still in edits. I’m absolutely dying to share a bit of my Top Secret Project, so I’ll probably give you a teeny, tiny teaser at some point.

This week’s snippet follows last week’s. Andre has asked “Trey” (aka Trevor) to dance, and they may or may not be getting a bit carried away with New Year’s Eve festivities. This is steamy but not explicit, though there’s an implication something else might follow.

WIPmath: 6/10/15 = 10 + 15 = 25 – 6 = 19 sentences

The music and the booze coursed through Andre, and he leaned in closer. He and Trey were pushed together partly by the crowd and partly of their own volition. Inhaling deeply, he took in the scent of Trey’s skin, a heady combination of sweat, soap, and alcohol.

Andre took a chance. He leaned up to speak into Trey’s ear. “It’s customary to kiss someone at midnight.”

Trey’s breath tickled his face. “And how close are we to midnight?”

“Close enough.”

Trey slid his cheek against Andre’s, the rough stubble creating delicious friction just before their mouths joined. It should just have been a brief kiss, something to welcome January first and no more. Except once they’d started, it was like wildfire. Andre sensed a change in Trey, almost an animal hunger. He kissed Andre feverishly, and Andre returned it with equal intensity. In a matter of seconds, they were tangled in each other, panting, their mouths and hips moving together and Trey’s tongue exploring Andre’s. Trey’s palm made slow circles on Andre’s back, and Andre ran his fingers under Trey’s thick blond hair to touch his neck. For the next several minutes, Andre focused only on how good Trey’s body felt against his, the sounds of the band and the crowd fading into the background.

When Trey tried to slip a hand under Andre’s shirt, Andre gasped, and something clunked back into place. “Not here,” he said between breaths.

Well, if not here, then where? Because you know there’s a where. I promise, there’s a where—I’m just not giving the details in a snippet. Sorry to disappoint anyone who was hoping for something a bit hotter; you’ll just have to use your imagination.

Like what you read? For more great snippets, follow this link. Don’t forget to leave some love on the other WIPpets. You can add your voice by posting a bit of your work, connected to the date, and linking up with us. Thanks to K. L. Schwengel for connecting us. Happy reading and writing!

Book Review: Fallen From Grace by Adrian J. Smith

Books, Reviews

Once again, I’m thrilled to review another great book by Adrian J. Smith. This is the second in the Spirit of Grace series, which has quickly become one of my favorites. I like to joke that Grace is my “book girlfriend.” Full disclosure: I had the privilege of being one of the beta readers for this series, and I received a copy of the finished work in return for an honest review.

Title: Fallen from Grace

Series: Spirit of Grace #2

Author: Adrian J. Smith

Genre: Crime/Mystery

Release Date: June 1, 2015

Goodreads Link

Blurb:

Parables and riddles can’t undo the confusion Deputy Grace Halling experiences after her close call with death. Each morning she wakes up, puts on a uniform that feels far more like a target, and goes out to enforce the laws and protect the innocent. While her comrades in blue are murdered one by one with each passing month, Grace pushes for a call to action from her Captain. Her worst fear has become a reality.

Grace doesn’t know if she’s next.

This is an exciting installment in the series, and the action ramps up another notch. The first book left us with a cliffhanger, introducing us to a killer targeting cops. Grace is thus far the only one who sees a connection. They mystery deepens in book two. Though I enjoyed the first book very much, I like this one even better.

As I mentioned above, I adore Grace. I feel like we really begin to see her emerging as more than just a rough-around-the-edges beat cop. The thread of the mystery continues, and Grace is the only one sure there’s more to it than meets the eye. Her suspicions are met with skepticism, especially because of her personal connections to some of the victims—is she seeing what she wants to see in order to bring them justice?

Meanwhile while that unfolds, Grace is busy interacting with a host of colorful characters. Her day-to-day adventures range from hilariously odd to harrowing to heartbreaking, sometimes all in the same chapter. Through it all, she’s maturing even without realizing it, steadied by the growing love between herself and her girlfriend.

With all her triumphs and disappointments, Grace is a treasure to read. I’m looking forward to sharing the exciting conclusion of this marvelous series.

Buy Links:

Excerpt:

Grace’s feet pounded hard against the asphalt as her belt moved against her hips. She heaved breath after breath as she ran as hard as she could past the run-down houses and abandoned cars. Squinting, she tried to see the punk who had ditched his car when she pulled him over.

“Fucker,” she muttered, lowering her head to gain more speed.

They turned the corner, and Grace grabbed the radio attached to her shoulder and shouted into it.

“We’re on Canary.”

“10-4. Coming your way,” Toulouse answered.

Grace’s ankle rolled as she stepped on a rock, her thick boot keeping her from completely collapsing. She straightened her back and pushed off her injured foot. She heard the sirens coming and knew Toulouse was close. She had to do it—had to prove to herself and to him that she could.

She huffed and counted to three, getting even closer. Just as the cruiser turned the corner down the street, Grace launched herself forward with her arms outstretched and grabbed hold of the punk’s left leg. His right foot came up and smacked into her chin just as he tumbled down to the ground.

“Stop resisting!” Grace shouted. “Stop resisting!”

Climbing up and onto his back, she dug her knee into his spine and grasped for his hand, the knife blade flying out. Pulling her fingers into a fist, she smashed it down onto his wrist until he let go and cried out.

“Get off me, bitch!”

“Stop resisting!” Grace shouted back, seeing red as the punk tried to wiggle his way loose from under her.

She moved up his body and rested her forearm against the back of his neck, working his face into the gravel. He cried out in pain, but Grace didn’t let up. She wouldn’t until his body completely relaxed and he decided to cooperate.

“Stop resisting, and I’ll let you up.” Grace swallowed hard.

Toulouse barreled his way down the street to her location. He had left his cruiser at the end of the block, driver’s side door flung open.

Grace glanced down at her suspect and sneered as he tried to turn her over. She dug her knee farther into his back and put more pressure on his neck.

“A’ight. A’ight. Damn, bitch. I give up.”

Author Bio

Adrian J. Smith, or “AJ” as she is often called, has a generous and soft heart. She loves to rescue stray cats and dogs, as well as those who just escape. Her hoard of animals currently includes two cats, a dog and a fish, but no children as of yet. She’s passionate about LGBT et al rights, women’s rights and children’s rights.

AJ loves to read and write lesbian fiction, simply for the fact that strong women make her swoon and when two are involved her knees turn to jelly and she falls head over heels in love. AJ travels around the United States, and sometimes the world, gathering up stories for her novels. Currently, she lives in the middle of nowhere of the middle of nowhere and is rather difficult to find except on the internet, where she spends a lot of her time.

Social Media Links

Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/81aa7894534

In the Series:

For By Grace (Spirit of Grace #1)

Goodreads Link