Writing

Rainbow Snippets: Holiday Fun

Happy Saturday! I haven’t done one of these in a while. Life has been incredibly busy for the last month. This is probably the last one I’ll do this year.

Since it’s almost Christmas (yes, I’m counting 10 days as almost), I thought I’d share from some of my holiday-themed short stories in (S)no(w) Angels. These were written at various times and collected later. All but one feature LGBTQ+ characters. Some are set with the same people and places as previous novels. Here’s the blurb:

A set of holiday-themed short fiction. Phin’s home sick, but Alex will take good care of him; Jeanine is about to deliver something more than red shoes to the boy who keeps asking for them; Santa’s son is in love with his sexy best friend, Elf Robin, and is trying to find a way to tell him; best friends, lovers, and co-teachers at a dance studio, Elinor and Giovanna enjoy their ballet with a side of spanking; eleven-year-old Cat wants to be Mary in his church’s Christmas play, but not everyone thinks that’s a good idea; Zayne wonders which part of her life will cause Pam to decide she’s better off looking for someone with fewer issues.

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This story is from one titled “Pas de Deux.” It was written for a challenge with the prompts Christmas, ballet, wooden spoon, and spanking (yes, really).

I slip out the door to peek in the next room.

Elinor is doing what I should be—working out some choreography for her solo dance in the winter charity performance. I pause with my hand on the doorknob, mesmerized by her movement. She isn’t like me, all her height in her legs. She’s compact and muscular, a powerhouse built perfectly for the energetic jazz dance she loves. I can just barely hear the thump of her feet and the pounding backbeat of the music filtered by the soundproofing we’ve done to the rooms.

Rainbow Snippets is a safe and welcoming space for LGBTQIA+ authors, readers, and bloggers to share 6 sentences each week from a work of fiction—published or in-progress—or a book recommendation. Feel free to join in!

WIPpet Wednesday: A cool glass of water

Books, Writing

Happy Wednesday! I haven’t done a lot of writing in Minuet, but it’s okay. I’ve been reorganizing the chapter files. It’s time consuming, but it isn’t a big deal due to the way I write (that is, not in a straight line). I’ve missed Mack, Amelia, and the gang.

We’re heading into the last week before Christmas with a full plate. My kids both have concerts next week at school, and my older one is singing with our local professional orchestra along with many other teens from around the county. Should be fun!

I was super excited to see Minuet listed on the release schedule for next year. It’s due out in September, and my publisher wants it by the end of April. Plenty of time, but I still need to get cracking on it. I already know exactly how it ends.

In today’s snippet, Jamie is still away (for reasons that I won’t spoil, but anyone who has read Drumbeat will know). Mack hasn’t quite learned to balance his attachments or figure out where all the healthy lines are.

Content note: Mack’s a recovering alcoholic. He’s contemplating drinking again (nothing too heavy in this part) and recalling a moment with his (also alcoholic) mother.

WIPmath: 12/12/2018 = (1 x 2) + 1 + 2 = 5 paragraphs

Mack had the night off, and he was in a mood. The mood. The itch hit him forcefully in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Mack hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in over five years. Not that he hadn’t wanted to or come close in all that time. But he’d had Jamie then. Countless nights that first year, when Jamie and Amelia were there every time he gave in. And when he was finally sober, Jamie was there for him again.

Jamie wasn’t there now, and the combination of the gaping hole he’d left and Mack’s internal buzzing brought back a whole lot of buried desires. He wanted something to take the edge off. He hadn’t seen Amelia in days, he still missed Jamie, and he was keyed up.

At first, he tried funneling the feeling into writing a new song. The lyrics wouldn’t come, and he couldn’t settle down enough to focus. He bounced off the couch and wandered into the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water. Standing by the sink, he paused. If he wanted, he could have something stronger. He could cave, and no one would know.

A memory surfaced of his mother, standing in exactly the same position he was now. She was at the sink, not with a glass of water but with a carrot and a knife, making dinner. Singing. Probably already halfway to drunk. The knife slipped, and—

Mack’s hand shook, sloshing water over the edge of the glass. The cold splash woke him up. He remembered what Jamie had said before he left, about not wanting to become his mother. Mack understood. He gulped the water, the cool liquid sliding down his burning throat. It wasn’t enough, but he would have to live with that.

Like what you read? Be sure to check out the other entries and add your own. Just post a bit of your WIP, connect it to the date, and link up with us. Many thanks to Emily Wrayburn for giving us this space. Happy reading and writing!

WIPpet Wednesday: A question of why

Books, Writing

Happy Wednesday! It’s already into December. I can’t believe how fast this year has gone. Been a hell of a ride, that’s for sure.

I’m sharing the last bit of Tree of Life for a while. I need to finish Minuet because it’s due April 1 to the publisher, and I have to get it polished and beta-read in time to fix stuff before I send it. It’s all good. I’ve been away from it long enough to see it with fresh eyes, and I know where I was stalling last time. Should be smooth sailing to get it done quickly.

On social media, there’s been a thing going around asking for 5 things about your WIP. Here are the ones I shared for Tree of Life:

An RV old enough to drink
A gender fluid hitchhiker
A dangerous secret
A scrapbook
A tough decision

Today’s snippet doesn’t follow directly from last week’s, but since it’s the last one for now, I figured I’d cut to the important part of the conversation. Context: the reason for the phone call is that Connor has asked Luke to come with him on his cross-country trek.

WIPmath: 12/5/2018 = 1 + 2 + 5 = 8 paragraphs, mostly dialog.

Luke’s heart is galloping, and his hands are slick. He takes a few steadying breaths. “Why did you ask me to come with you?”

There’s an extended silence, and Luke wishes he could see Connor’s face. It was too bold, asking outright. He should’ve waited.

“The others all thought I shouldn’t do this alone.”

Of course. And here is Luke, the one among them not securely attached. All of their other friends, now including Adam and AJ, are married. Who better than the person who can’t gather his life together? He knows Jax leaving isn’t part of some vast conspiracy among their group, but he can’t help being angry all the same.

“Right. And you all thought, ‘Hey, Luke has nothing and no one. Maybe he should go.’” His words curl around the edges with bitterness.

“It’s not like that!” Connor’s protest is too swift.

“Sure, it’s not. Because the alternative is that you wanted to spent almost a month and a half with someone who—” Luke cuts himself off.

“Maybe I did.”

WIPpet Wednesday: A phone call

Books, Writing

Happy Wednesday! Life has finally settled down from school musical #1, a houseful of colds, and the holiday. There’s at least two weeks before further havoc ensues.

It’s already a weird week. I had one of those good news/bad news doctor appointments. On the plus side, I have the overall health of someone half my age. But on the down side, my initial diagnosis is probably wrong. Now begins the long road of figuring out exactly which autoimmune disorder I actually do have. Yay.

I got to go see Bohemian Rhapsody with my older kid this past weekend. What a great movie. If you’re looking for a documentary, this is not that film. It’s a Hollywood movie that took liberties for dramatic effect. I mean, I realize it is shocking that they’d do such a thing, of course. Anyway, it’s really good, so go see it. Probably worth it just for the soundtrack, honestly.

Okay, on to the WIPpet. I’m still in Tree of Life. I won’t finish it for NaNoWriMo, but I’m okay with that. I made good progress, and it’s turning out well for a first draft. I need to work on some things, and I constructed a chart (sob).

Since you all want to know if Luke makes that phone call, here you go. The first sentence, in red, is from last week.

WIPmath: 11/28/2018 = 8 / 2 = 4 paragraphs

A simple yes or no, that’s all he has to provide.

He won’t do it naked. As he stands and grabs his briefs, he hears the water turn on in the bathroom. He yanks on most of his clothes and sits on the couch. Hand shaking, he reaches out for his phone. There are so many things he wants to ask Connor, like why he wants Luke to be the one to come with him. Why not a lover or someone who has been at least a better friend? Why ask someone who didn’t give him a chance before escaping?

He’s hitting Connor’s number now, praying Jax stays in the shower long enough for him to give Connor his decision. He knows what he should say, which isn’t necessarily what he will say.

Connor answers after four rings. “Hello?”

Luke’s mouth is dry. He licks his lips. “Hey, it’s Luke.”

WIPpet Wednesday: The empty afterward

Books, Writing

Happy Wednesday! I almost forgot to post. I’m doing this quick before dinner.

The middle school musical went well over the weekend. What a great bunch of kids! Small cast, but everyone stepped up and made it happen. I am so proud of my younger child, who did an amazing job.

I’m plugging away at Tree of Life, but between the musical and other things, I don’t think I’ll reach 50k and “win” NaNoWriMo. That’s okay. I made some good breakthroughs with this novel, and I know what I want from it now. I have thoughts on it, but not stuff to share in this particular post.

This snippet follows right on from last week’s, in which we left Luke and Jax saying goodbye with their bodies. That’s as explicit as it gets in this story.

WIPmath: 11/21/2018 = 2 + 1 = 3 paragraphs

When they’ve both found release, Luke feels hollowed out. Empty and blank, like a scrapbook page waiting to be filled. He knows now that Jax won’t be the one to do it. He lies there on the living room floor, running a sweaty hand through his blond hair. Jax is half on top of him, gasping, their cheek pressed against Luke’s nipple.

They sit up abruptly, grinning. “Call him, hot stuff.” They smack Luke’s hip and rise from the floor.

Luke props himself on his elbows, watching Jax’s firm, round ass as they gather their clothes and head for the bathroom, a sway in their step. Reality cuts through the last of his post-sex high as he sits up. For a few minutes, he sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at his phone on the tray table. It wouldn’t take long. A simple yes or no, that’s all he has to provide.

Writing, researching, and telling our own stories

Books, Writing

You’ll have to excuse me for being on a bit of a short fuse. It’s been a rough week, and we’re only halfway in. Multiple things have left me feeling raw. When this happens, I do what I do best: I write things. Keeping them contained only leads to worse outcomes.

Anyway, this post was sparked by an odd exchange involving a conversation about #OwnVoices and researching identities different from our own. Or, in this case, researching how to write our own identities.

I have never once, not in the nearly five years I’ve been a published author, researched how to write my own identity.

In a previous post, I mentioned how natural it was to shift to writing primarily characters who share most or all of my queerness and/or medical diagnoses. It comes as easily as breathing. My life experiences don’t need a Google search; I can just write them.

Anyone who has been around a while knows that I’m a pretty strong advocate for #OwnVoices, but they might not have any idea why nor why I think that still has limitations.

I’m not against writing about someone or something outside your experience. We all bring something in with us. My own kids have asked if I’ll write books with characters like them, even though we don’t share all our identities. No one person is going to share one hundred percent of everything with a character, unless they are writing an autobiography.

What I’m against is creating a culture where:

authors primarily or exclusively write about a specific identity they don’t share
an entire community then develops around books about that identity
people who don’t share that identity are allowed to have a significant degree of control within the community, including deciding which books are good representation
that community and its books are prioritized over all similar/related identities
all books with similar/related identities are measured against the one prioritized
authors who don’t share that identity are considered authorities, experts, or spokespeople
authors who do share that identity are held to a higher standard

Not that people can’t figure out what I mean, but I’m not naming names here for a reason. It happens in more than one type of writing.

This isn’t about one author writing one book or even one author writing many books. It’s not about authors who write a broad range. It’s the collective of multiple authors over many years writing numerous books entirely about a specific something they have no firsthand experience with and often no secondhand experience either.

The problem is that because of these types of communities, where outsiders exclusively want to write about or speak about insiders, the ripple effect is large. It leads to insiders feeling we must “research” our own identities to get it “right.” It means we have to yell twice as loud to be heard, but when we do, we’re told to tone it down and not be so angry. It means if we write crappy books, outsiders can point at us and say, “See? They aren’t any better! At least MY book is good!” or “Sure, there are bad books by outsiders, but even insiders write crap!”

It means we no longer have the flexibility to write anything but perfectly-constructed #OwnVoices books.

I don’t know what the answer is because of a number of factors. It would likely take a collective effort on the part of multiple people to make change. What I do know is that I’ve felt the need to distance myself both from those communities and from people who make rules about what I’m “allowed” to write. Both sides often feel like they don’t especially care about those of us who might get caught in the crossfire.

There are 10 days left of NaNoWriMo, and I am really far behind on a novel that hits many of my identities but not all and some I don’t share. Back to writing, with the hope that I’ll at least get something right.

Rainbow Snippets: Holiday Fun

WIPpet Wednesday: A cool glass of water

WIPpet Wednesday: A question of why

WIPpet Wednesday: A phone call

WIPpet Wednesday: The empty afterward

Writing, researching, and telling our own stories

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