I have always loved the paranormal. Ever since I was a young child. I cut my teeth on sci fi/fantasy, and so it certainly wasn’t a leap. The mythos behind supernatural creatures has always fascinated me.
But when I started writing, my stories were all contemporary. Part of that, a small part, was that I didn’t think paranormal sold as well, and hey, as much as I love writing (and in fact, would wither away without it) it’s also a job, and I have to take that into consideration. But the other part of that was fear. Building a contemporary world is easy, because we live in it every day. I just needed to put the pieces together to fit my MCs. It was harder to make sure all the pieces fit together for a paranormal world.
But that didn’t stop me from devouring PNR as a reader. I love paranormal romances, and want nothing more than to have every last one of them in my eyeballs.
I dipped my toes in the PNR world. Beholden, AcceptingSubmission, and even the RequiemInc series, to a degree. But still, the majority of my work is contemporary.
And don’t get me wrong, I love to read and write contemps too. I love any story of people falling in love, overcoming their obstacles, and finding their HEA (or HFN). I’m all about the love.
But PNR in particular has always drawn me in. Which is why I’m very much leaning in that direction of late. In July, the first book in the Cauldron Creek series will be out. There are at least three more planned for that series.
The current serial on the blog features werewolves (though in my published works you’ll find I prefer the term shifter, as there are not just wolves. Since there’s not as in-depth world building with the flashes, I went with ease and used werewolves). But even though the burgeoning idea was sparked by Jamie’s food issues, I still ended up in PNR territory, because that’s where my brain is currently at.
There’s another series I’m also dying to write, though I’m still working out the details on just how I can make it work like I want, which also is, you guessed it, paranormal. That one has a lot of moving pieces though, and would, probably, be a little longer than the books I tend to write (which sit in the 20k-30k novella territory). Plus I’m going to have to talk to people to get details for things I only have peripheral knowledge of. But PNR is the focus of that too.
All this is to say that I have always been obsessed with PNR, and I want to write more of it. Does that mean I’m giving up writing contemporary? Certainly not. But my muse is definitely focused on shifters and magic, world building and alternate reality, than it is on the everyday contemporary. And since I’ve had such a hard time getting words on the page for quite a while now, I’m going to indulge the muse.
** Let’s check in with Jamie, as he has that conversation with his alpha. You can read part 1 here. And in all honesty, there will probably be a part 3. Enjoy!**
The pack run had been exhilarating in a way I didn’t normally experience. But Sean had specifically asked me to run with him, though he made it clear it was entirely my choice. The bright full moon led our way as we ran through the forest, howled to the pack, cavorted and hunted. Well, I didn’t hunt, but I did manage a scrap of rabbit Sean caught and offered to me. It was his way of providing for me, and I knew that. But even in my fur, I had trouble with food. And Sean didn’t seem to judge me for that, even though wolf instincts were at the forefront. Just offered me a small chunk and made a pleased little growl when I gulped it down.
We could shift into our werewolf form whenever we wanted, but there was no doubt the moon had it’s pull. It didn’t make us shift, but it called to us, and it was hard to resist. Sean had structured monthly pack dinners, then runs, to coincide with the moon cycle as a way to encourage pack bonding. It had worked. Our pack was stronger than ever.
As the sky lightened, Sean lifted his head and let out a long, ululating howl, calling the rest of the pack in. The answering yips and howls were music to my ears and I couldn’t help but join in. Sean rubbed his muzzle on mine, then nudged me toward the pack house. I went, trying to keep pace. But I was tired, and low on reserves. That was one of the reasons the dinners beforehand were so important. It took a lot of energy to run on four paws.
Shame washed through me, knowing I was slowly my alpha down as Sean adjusted his pace to match mine. With each mile I lagged even further. I didn’t usually run this far out, or for as long, because I knew my limitations. But being at Sean’s side had given me a burst of adrenaline that was now faded and making it difficult. But Sean didn’t seem upset or frustrated. Perhaps a little worried. But he never pushed, just kept my pace until we finally broke through the treeline and into the clearing behind the pack house.
We were the last ones back.
Sean shifted immediately. The rest of the pack was human too, and in varying states of dress, all happy and chatting and full of energy from the night spent in fur with the moon. Some of them called to Sean, wanting the alpha’s attention. But he ignored them for a moment to crouch down beside me and bury his fingers in the scruff of my neck.
“Take your time, and come inside when you’re done, all right?”
I acknowledge that with a tiny yip, pressing my nose against his bare chest for just a moment. I wanted to roll around in his scent. Comfort and caring radiated from him, as well as something sharper and deeper underneath. But my wolf brain couldn’t parse the meaning and I didn’t worry about it. My alpha had said to take my time, and so I did.
It took a while, and when I finally got going, calling up my human skin, the change was slower than normal. Though I wasn’t overly quick with the change, it usually didn’t take this long. After the initial few seconds of pain, my synapses shut off, blocking it out, so all I felt was the pull and twist of muscles shifting, of bones breaking and realigning. When I was finally done, my chest heaved as I fought for breath, and I was still on all fours, the dew causing the grass stick to my skin and making me shiver. I just wanted to flop over and curl up instead of moving.
Sean’s scent assailed me an instant before he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I shivered, the contrast of the heat from his body and the chill in the air too much for my body to process. He coaxed me up, first to sitting on my heels, then gently to my feet. I had to lean heavily on him but we made our way across the grass, up the six steps, and onto the deck. Instead of going inside, Sean gently lowered me into one of the chairs, and then wrapped me in a couple of warm flannel blankets.
With a soft touch to my hair, he disappeared, but he was back a moment later with a glass of juice, a small portion of scrambled eggs sprinkled with cheese, and a half piece of toast smeared with a thick layer of peanut butter. Protein, fat, and sugar. All the things I’d need to get back on my feet.
“Eat as much as you can, sweetheart.” Sean’s voice was low and kind. And even better, he left again so I could eat without an audience. The little voice in the back of my head said he was probably just on the other side of the glass sliding door, watching me, but I purposefully didn’t turn around. If I didn’t see him, he wasn’t there.
I managed most of it, with only a few bites of the egg and a quarter of the juice left, before I just couldn’t make myself eat any more. I sat back, pulling the blanket a little tighter around me, and heard the door slide open.
Yup. He’d definitely been spying.
Sean took a seat next to me, his pleased smile after he glanced at the plate showing me he was proud of me. That warmed my insides and a tiny smile bloomed across my lips.
“So, you and I need to have a conversation.” Sean’s voice was light, easy, but my stomach clenched. I knew he was going to ask me about my eating problems, and I just didn’t want to talk about it. He could make me—a command from him would have me spilling my guts—and even though I didn’t think he would do that, it still made me nervous.
“Okay. Yes.” I made myself say the words even though I didn’t feel them.
He nodded, pleased, and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the edge of the table. “As I said, I’m very aware of the power imbalance between us, and I want to state up front that you have the control here. This is all about your consent, and I promise you right now I will never violate that.”
I blinked, my slow brain taking a second to catch up to what he was saying. Oh. Oh! This was about our mutual attraction. Relief flooded through me and I grinned. This was so much easier to talk about than the food, because I knew he returned the feelings. Homophobia was prevalent in werewolf culture, but things were changing. And Sean had worked hard to oust any intolerance in the pack. I freed a hand, because I wanted to touch, and laid it over his where it rested on the table. He flipped his hand and gripped my fingers.
“You have my consent, Sean,” I assured him, deliberately using his name and not his title, so he would know we were on even ground. “I’ve wanted you since I met you, but I couldn’t imagine you’d want me back. So I kept to myself.”
Sean’s smile turned a little wicked, just the edge of it, but it was enough to quicken my pulse. His thumb caressed the back of my hand, and it felt so good, I would have purred if I’d been a cat. Instead, I let out a little, happy sigh.
“I noticed you right away, Jamie. Make no mistake. But I had to focus on the pack, of making it better and stronger. Of getting rid of the bigots and the racists. And not just because I’m bi and wanted acceptance in my own pack, but also because I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. It’s unacceptable and I won’t have it.” His voice was threaded with a hint of steel.
I squeezed his hand. “I know. You showed us all right from the start that you were fair and kind, and that you only wanted the best for all of us.” Heat crept up my cheeks but I forced it back with a deep breath. “I was physically attracted to you right from the start, but I wouldn’t have started crushing on you if you hadn’t been a good person.”
His expression morphed into a leer, but there was a twinkle in his eye that softened it. “A crush, huh?”
I laughed, partly from embarrassment. “Yes, well.”
“Yes, well,” he repeated, but playfully. “Then how about we go on a date? Just the two of us, away from the pack. We’ll see if the spark we feel can grow into a flame.”
“Yes, please.” My voice came out breathy but I didn’t care.
“Good.” Sean leaned in, closing the distance between us, and kissed my cheek. He lingered there for a moment, nosing along my jaw, inhaling deeply before murmuring, “You smell so good.”
I swallowed hard, unable to make my voice work as my blood sang through my veins.
“Tonight?” He asked as he pulled back, though he kept hold of my hand.
“Yes.” It came out whispered, and I cleared my throat to try again. “Yes. That works.”
“Good,” he said again. “I’ll plan the whole thing. I’ll text you later about times, once I get things worked out. And Jamie? Make sure you eat beforehand, yeah?”
Damn. The food thing. I peeked up at him, opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head, a kind smile gracing his lips.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk if and when you’re ready. But I want you to know you’re taken care of, and since I can’t do that for you, I’m trusting you do it yourself.” He made sure I was looking him in the eye before he continued. “I won’t push. I will never do that. But I will gently check up. Are you okay with that?”
My voice failed me, touched that he cared enough but even more so that he wasn’t going to push and demand. It meant so much to me, and more importantly, made things easier on me. I nodded.
Sean smiled, stood, and then scent marked me by dragging his wrist along my throat. “Stay as long as you want. Get dressed and go only when you’re ready.” He cupped my chin in exceedingly gentle fingers, tilting up until our gazes locked. “Look for my text and I’ll see you tonight.”
Excitement raced through my veins and I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt.
It’s been a rough couple of years. Yeah, years. I think 2020 itself needs no explanation, but it’s been even longer than that for me. Lots of stuff and reasons, but I don’t think I need to rehash them. Some of them I’ve mentioned here before, but essentially, this site went dormant for more than a year.
I’ve finally done a bunch of the admin that needed doing, and so links are updated, books have been added, and you’ll be able to find my stuff in the books tab if you need to.
I’ve also begun Flash Fic Friday again! It was always one of my favorite things, but considering so much of my problems over the past two years has been trouble with words, that fell by the wayside. But I’ve got something new going there, and we’ll see more of Jamie and Sean, the werewolves, this Friday. So stay tuned for that!
And I’ve finally managed to finish something new! Considering last year, the number of stories I published was thin on the ground, and it’s been a while since I even pubbed at all, that’s exciting news. It’s called Snow and Mistletoe and it’ll be out in July. There’s a reason for that. It’s a Christmas in July story. And there’s shifters and magic and fated mates. Oh, and it’s the first in a series, so yes, we’ll be visiting Cauldron Creek again in the future. More details when I have them.
And I have a lot of ideas, so hopefully more will keep coming. It’s my goal, anyway. This year might not prove to be as fruitful as years past, but I’m certainly hoping I’ll get the words on the page. Wish me luck!
**It’s time to resurrect Flash Fic Friday! This might turn into a serial if there’s interest. Enjoy!**
No one noticed I wasn’t eating. Most of me was relieved about that. I didn’t want to, couldn’t, and having to explain or make excuses would have been exhausting. I didn’t have the spoons to deal with that today. But a small part of me was also sad. Because if no one noticed, that meant I was as invisible and insignificant as I imagined I was.
Pack dinners were always raucous affairs, filling with tons of conversation, laughter, and joy. I did my best to fit it, to talk and joke with the rest of my pack. But it wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t important enough to hold anyone’s attention for long. We all knew each other—in a pack of thirty wolves, it wasn’t hard—but even though we were always in each other’s pockets, it was surprisingly easy to hide. People saw what they wanted to see, and werewolves were no different.
Our alpha, Sean, was an outstanding leader. Fair but firm, patient and kind. He’d stepped in the role five years ago and turned the pack around. Before that, things hadn’t been horrible, but the alpha had been ineffectual and indifferent. Sean had swooped in and taken over, immediately made changes, and now we were one, big, happy and thriving pack.
Mostly.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t even realize the alpha had approached my corner. Within the walls of the pack house I was safe, and so wasn’t on high alert, keeping my senses tuned into my surroundings. Beside, the place smelled heavily of him, always did, so I might not have noticed anyway.
I tilted my head as soon as he stepped in front of me, showing my submission. He reached out, fingers gentle as he placed them along the side of my neck, leaving his scent on me. I couldn’t help the tension seeping out of my shoulders. It was how it should be when the alpha was there. He offered me a warm smile, his dark eyes shining.
“Hello, Jamie. How are you?”
“Hello, sir.” I returned the greeting but wondered if I’d get away with not answering his question. When Sean slid his fingers around and squeezed the back of my neck, I physically relaxed even further even though my brain told me that meant he wasn’t going to let me refuse to answer.
Sean leaned in, his gaze never leaving mine, but his tone was light and conversational. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes,” I answered quickly, because it wasn’t a lie. I had eaten, just not here and not since breakfast this morning.
“When?” he asked, still with the same tone, though his fingers tightened just a touch. I lowered my gaze, unable to keep his in the face of his scrutiny. I did not answer, only because I knew I wouldn’t be punished for it. But if I told him the truth, he’d be upset with me for another reason, and I didn’t want that either.
After a long moment of silence, he let his hand drop and he took a step back. “Please come with me.”
I didn’t have a choice. It was a command as much a request. But I didn’t want to disobey anyway. Sean was worthy of following, and if he requested something, I had no qualms about doing exactly that. I wasn’t like other werewolves. I didn’t blindly follow whomever was in charge. But Sean was a good man and a good wolf, so it was easy.
Until he led me to the food table.
Unconsciously, I dragged my feet. I didn’t want to go near it. But his gentle touch had me moving forward. Sean’s hand on the small of my back propelled me forward, and when he handed me one of the small plates, I took it automatically, glad it wasn’t one of the large ones. Then he leaned down so he spoke directly in my ear. It wouldn’t stop other’s from hearing, but they’d at least know to ignore whatever he said.
“Pick out something. Just a little. A couple of bites, if that’s all you can manage.” His breath blew softly against the shell of my ear, and I fought a shiver. I opened my mouth to insist I wasn’t hungry, but before I could he added, “Please.”
I took a tiny piece of grilled chicken that seemed bland enough and hoped that would be sufficient. But Sean raised an eyebrow, so I added a tiny scoop of broccoli salad to the plate as well. That, I knew, had been made by Adaira, I’d had it in the past, and it was good enough I’d be able to force down a few bites.
That seemed enough to satisfy Sean, and he handed me a fork and napkin before gently leading me to the large table. I balked again, not even thinking about it, just my body reacting before my brain could get online enough to follow my alpha’s directive. I had to take a breath, to try and make myself move, but Sean was so attuned to me in that moment, he easily changed course.
Without realizing where we were going, I suddenly realized we were on the back door. Which was suddenly and suspiciously absent of pack members. Usually there were always people hanging out here when it was nice. But no one was around, and the door slid shut behind us. I didn’t get a chance to turn and see who had shut it, because Sean didn’t let up the slight pressure on my back and I had to move to the café table in the corner. He pulled out a chair for me, and I sat. He took a seat beside me.
“Please try and eat.” His voice was so soothing, lacking all judgment and with only a little concern. I speared a piece of broccoli and forced myself to eat it. The approving rumble that Sean let out warmed my insides and I went for another bite.
“You know I try to stay out of my pack member’s personal lives. Unless it directly effects the pack or harms them, that is. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about how little you eat.”
The few bites I’d taken soured in my stomach. “I eat.”
Sean nodded. “Clearly you do, at least sometimes. But rarely with the pack. I thought I was imagining it, at first. I asked around, and no one seemed to see it, so I was sure I had to just miss you eating. But you don’t, do you, Jamie?”
I couldn’t lie even though I wanted to. “I don’t…I don’t like…it’s weird…” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I have issues with food sometimes.”
Sean nodded, his gaze still judgement free. “You don’t like eating in front of people?”
I blew out a breath, pushing the plate away. “When I was young—” Nope, I couldn’t do it. “Stuff happened and it’s hard. I’ll try to do better.”
“Jamie,” he said seriously, leaning forward so I couldn’t avoid his gaze. “You don’t have to ‘do better.’ We just need to find a way that works for you. We take care of you and your needs, okay, sweetheart?”
It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to me in relation to my food issues but my brain was stuck on the last word. Sean wasn’t the type to use endearments with his wolves, so it had to mean something more. I opened my mouth to ask, then shut it because I didn’t know what to say. But the look on my face must have telegraphed my inner turmoil because Sean hung his head for a moment.
“Shit,” he muttered. Then he blew out a breath and lifted that dark gaze to mine. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
Disappointment coursed through me. I nodded, trying to not let it show on my face and knowing I was probably failing. “Oh. I understand.”
Sean grabbed my hand, his grip gentle but firm. “No, I don’t think you do. I didn’t mean to say it because I’m very conscious of the fact that there’s a power imbalance between me and my wolves. I would never want anyone feeling like they had to do something because I was alpha. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Kind of. “I think so.”
Sean’s gaze bored into mine. “Just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t mean I’d act on it, okay? I have excellent control. In all things. So you don’t have to worry, all right? I’d never force you or expect something you’re not willing to give.”
“What if…” I cleared my throat, trying to find my bravery to voice the one want I’d had since I first laid eyes on him. “What if I want you to?”
His eyes blazed, a hint of his wolf showing through. “Want me to what? Be very clear here.”
I let the shiver course through me, showing him how much his words affected me. His nostrils flared, no doubt taking in the scent of my spike of arousal.
“I want you to act on it. You’re beautiful, Sean. And kind and good and I—” I was rambling. I sucked in a deep breath. “What if I want you to act on that attraction because I feel the same?”
“Well then,” he said, twisting his hand to twine his fingers with mine. “Then we talk about it.”
The world is on fire. Literally in Australia. Between politics and idiocy and gaslighting and all around fuckery, it’s been tough.
In May, I pulled all my titles from Dreamspinner Press. With their failure to pay, they breached our contract and I was able to get the rights back to all 11 titles I had with them.
Eventually I got paid but I’m one of the few. And far more authors are owed far, far more than I was.
The nonsense is still going on.
Romancelandia blew up in the past week. With good reason. I’m not a member of RWA and now I’m glad I could never scrape together the funds for membership. I won’t rehash it all, there are plenty of people out there who have done it far better and more eloquently than I can.
I became mired in depression and it took me a long time to see it. Part of me thinks I should have known by the sheer fact I had no desire to write or knit and those creative pursuits are my biggest passion. But depression can do that to you. Make it so you can’t see the forest for the trees.
I changed jobs and loved my new position, only to have the rug yanked out from beneath me and forced into a position I did not want. And it was a terrible situation for me. So I changed jobs again.
But in all the weight, there is some good.
All of my titles have been republished with JMS Books. Save one, the third in the Requiem Inc series, which will be out next month.
I did manage to get some new words on the page. Forever Nine and Miracles in Space were released this year. (Buy links in the books tab at the top) Accepting Submission will be out next month.
And I’m banging out a short story right now that has a tight deadline that should be out early next year as well.
I have been woefully less productive than I wanted to be. When I look at this, I feel as though I’ve failed. No, that’s not right. But fell short for sure. Short of my goals and short of my hopes. And that’s a hard pill to swallow.
It’s been a tough year. A hard year. But I did manage words. And I did find my knitting mojo again.
So maybe 2019 wasn’t the best year. But it’s nigh on over, and 2020 looms.
I’m going to work on getting more words on the page so I can bring you all more fluffy, happy, satisfying HEAs. Because goddess knows we all need that right now.
Here’s wishing you all that 2020 is your best year yet.
**Let’s visit with Cole and Luke from last week!**
I groaned as the alarm went off, then rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. Luke reached over me to silence the alarm, then snuggled up and pressed his nose into the back of my neck.
“Wake up, baby.”
His voice was soft and cajoling, but I’d eaten far too much yesterday and had one too many glasses of wine. After the whole thing with Luke’s mother, I was emotionally wrung out too. I just wanted to sleep.
“No work,” I muttered, the pillowcase sticking to my lips. “Keep sleeping.”
“Oh no,” Luke said with a chuckle and giving me a gentle shake. “This was all you. The whole reason we set the alarm in the first place. Time to wake up.”
“Don’t wanna.”
Luke chuckled again, squeezed me tightly, then attacked my neck with playful, biting kisses. I squirmed, my body reacting to his touch, but just as I was about to really get into it he pulled away. I felt him sit up, and then he whipped the blanket back and gave me a sharp smack to the ass.
I yelped.
“Get up, love. It’s Black Friday.” The sound of him standing was immediately followed but a groan as he stretched. I flopped onto my back quickly so I wouldn’t miss the show, but he was finished by the time I got my bleary eyes to focus. Damn.
“Come on, Cole. I’ll start the coffee, you get dressed. You know what you have to do.” He pointed finger guns at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.
By the time I got into the kitchen, there was a pot of hot, delicious brew waiting for me. I poured a cup, inhaled deeply, then added a dollop of creamer and sipped tentatively, not caring that it was too hot.
“You get everything?” Luke asked. I nodded, still not ready for speech. He grinned. “This was you, Cole. This is what you wanted. I only agreed because I love you.”
Feeling more awake now, I was able to smile. He was never shy about giving me the words and I loved hearing them. I leaned over so I could kiss his neck, and then said, “I know. I love you.”
Luke pressed his lips to my forehead. “Breakfast first?”
I shook my head. “Maybe in a bit.”
“Good then. Let’s get cracking.”
****
It took the better part of the morning, but by the time we stopped for lunch, everything was pretty much done. The tree (fake because Luke was allergic) was up and fully decorated, the white lights sparkling from every branch. We didn’t have a ton of ornaments, but what we did have meant something to us and it looked incredibly pretty. The garlands were up above the doorways, candles and bells decorated the end tables, and my collection of elves had found homes throughout the house. We even had candles in every front window, the battery operated kind that would flicker and cast a warm glow without lighting the curtains on fire.
Soft carols played over the speaker, and Luke had just laid down the finishing touch: a dark blue rug with snowflakes all over it. It looked fantastic in front of our space heater, which I only got because it looked like a real fireplace. Or a close approximation anyway.
I sighed happily, and sat on the couch to take it all in. Luke joined me a few minutes later, bringing with him mugs of hot chocolate. It was the instant kind, but it was the thought that counted. I kissed him as I took my mug, and then snuggled into his embrace. We sipped and he hummed along with “Adeste Fideles.”
Warmth and happiness filled me. I had Christmas and the man I loved. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets and bounced on my toes. The wind whipped around me, but my anger…my hurt kept me warm.
“Baby, it’s freezing out here.” Luke’s voice was soft, cajoling, but I just shot him a scathing look over my shoulder. I hadn’t heard the door, but it had taken him long enough to come after me. And that, too, added to my hurt and anger.
“I’m aware,” I bit out.
Luke stepped around me so he could hold my gaze. I met his stubbornly, raising my chin. Defiance just poured off me.
“We’re about to serve dinner,” he said in that same tone.
I scowled harder. “I’m aware.”
He blew out a breath and chanced a step closer. He lifted one hand, as though he was going to touch me, and normally I would be all about that but not right now. Luke must have seen that in my face because he let his arm drop.
“Cole, honey–”
“Your mother is mean to me,” I said, trying for firm but it came out more like whine. I shook my head and shored up my resolve. “She’s so rude.”
“I know,” he murmured.
“The things she said to me! And not just today.” I made an angry noise, and I caught the twitch of Luke’s lips, because he always found it amusing when I made that noise. But he knew better than to smile.
“I know,” he said again.
“And you just let her. You let her say…” I trailed off because that was the worst part. That his mother spoke to me with rudeness and disdain was hard enough to bear. But to have Luke just sit there, let her speak to me that way, that was so much worse. I loved him more than anything on the planet, and for the past two years he’d been my everything. My rock, my solace, my confidant. And I was the same for him. From the moment we met, we just clicked. It hadn’t taken us more than a few weeks to go from friends to lovers, and we’d been inseparable ever since. Which is why I put up with his mother in the first place.
We didn’t see much of her, but it’s was Thanksgiving, and she insisted Luke had to be here for the family dinner. Which meant I was here too. Because wherever he went, so I did I.
Luke took another step closer. “Do you trust me?”
I sighed, half exasperation, half affection. “You know I do.”
“Then please trust me.” He held out a hand. “Come back inside.”
I didn’t hesitate to take his hand. Because really, no matter how angry and hurt I was, no matter that his mother was a wretched woman, no matter what was going on between us, I loved and trusted him.
The scents of turkey and stuffing assailed me as we stepped into the house and removed our outer wear. Once we were done, Luke took my hand again and he led me into the dining room. His entire family was gathered around the table, and the feast itself looking like a Norman Rockwell painting. Every dish was picture perfect, and there were even candles around the centerpiece of autumnal flowers. Luke pulled out my chair and I sat, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Least of all his mother.
The room was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. I’d been to enough dinners with his family over the years to know that every one remained quiet until after Luke’s mother said the blessing. I kept my gaze down, but smiled a little when Luke slid into the seat next to me and put a hand on my thigh under the table.
“Dear Lord,” his mother began, and I fought not to flinch at the sound of her voice. “We gather together as a family today to share in the joy of us all and partake of this amazing food You’ve provided for us. And I ask that you help open my heart to this beautiful soul my son has fallen in love with.”
My head shot up, I couldn’t help it, and Luke’s mother was looking right at me. She gave a tiny smile and drew a breath.
“I suffer from the mother’s affliction that no person in this world could be good enough for my son. And it has caused me to be rude and judgmental, when Cole has shown this family nothing but kindness. My own son had to call me to task, point out my behavior and show me how unacceptable it is. Lord, I ask you to forgive my sins in this regard. But Cole, I also ask you to do the same. I should be thankful that such a wonderful person loves my Luke, today especially, but every day. I’m sorry I hurt you, Cole. And I promise to do better.”
I was stunned. Because for the first time, I actually heard genuineness in her words. She meant it. All I could do was nod.
She smiled, a little shaky, but it was there. “I’m far from perfect. And I’m sure I’ll mess up again. Next time, just call me out on my rudeness, okay Cole?”
“Uh, sure.”
Everyone laughed, his mother closed the prayer, and I turned to Luke as everyone dug into the food, chatter starting up. He was wearing a huge grin.
“I’m thankful for you, baby. Every day. Every hour. I love you.”
The first time I did NaNo, it was five years ago. I’d heard it was a thing but never really looked into it. But then I was a newly minted published author and I was like, man, I need to do this! I’m an author! Let’s go!
I had my brain engaged and I started writing as soon as the clock ticked over to November 1st. I came home from work every day and wrote. I wrote like a rockstar! And I wrote 51,000 words in ten days and had a finished book! I was amazing.
And every single word of it was garbage.
I spent the rest of the month trying to fix it, but I basically just….couldn’t. And that’s when I learned that my brain does not write this way. I need to adjust and change as I go. And I need to take breaks from a story and just figure out if what I’m writing is the right thing to write. I need to let things percolate in between. So while I can (and do!) write a lot of words in quick succession, the whole push behind NaNo isn’t what fuels me and I don’t produce quality words. And when I don’t start with something that’s close to what I want in the first place, it’s impossible for me to edit and tweak and fix and polish.
I tried it again the year before last with that in mind, just on my own, and worked in the way that I know I work best. But I didn’t complete the challenge and that felt like a failure, even knowing that any words at all is a win.
So I don’t NaNoWriMo. Because it doesn’t fit my process and my brain can’t let go of the feeling of failure when I don’t do what I should.
But to all you authors out there that do and can? Rock on! You’ve got this! You’re going to write amazing words this month, and we’re all looking forward to seeing those words in print. All the blood, sweat, tears, frustration, and joy will be worth it in the end. I’m cheering you on the sidelines.
Every time I go to the doctor, I’m asked if I’m depressed. I get it. I have pretty severe anxiety, and anxiety and depression (as an NP once put it to me) “play very well together.” On the whole, depression is not something I experience. So I can truthfully answer that no, I’m not depressed.
But these last few months…hell most of this year….it’s been different. I have felt so very uninspired. And I’ve blamed it on the publisher who shall not be named and the very super crappy situation at the EDJ (which thankfully will be changing in a few weeks). And they’ve definitely played their role in all of this. The mental and emotional energy I’ve had to put into dealing with all that has left my well empty.
And just today, I had a face palm moment of realizing that another reason is because I have been absolute crap at taking my medication. Not for any reason other than I keep forgetting and then it gets pushed around and hidden under something and then I really really forget.
Words have been like pulling teeth. I haven’t knitted hardly at all. And I haven’t worn makeup in weeks, and that’s my favorite form of self expression. For a super creative person like me, to not be creative and fill the well has made things so much worse.
So the lack of spoons and the lack of meds…yep. I’ve been depressed. Only I didn’t see it for what it was. Needed a little tough love.
And it also makes me feel better, in a way. Because there’s a reason that I’ve been so uninspired and uncreative. And there are things I can do to help myself. And I am making those changes. I’m unhappy with the me I’ve been lately, and unhappy with my lack of engagement.
So expect things to change around here! I’ve updated this site so that all the links and covers are current for my rereleases. I’ve got the books that are coming soon up as well. And Flash Fic Friday, which has sadly been absent for an unforgivable amount of time, will be making a come back later this month.
A Timely Gift rereleased today! So if you haven’t had a chance to read it you can check it out here! If you’re in the mood for a holiday story that starts with a solstice gift and ends on Christmas, be sure to take a look. And it’s on sale right now! (If you read the original, no need to repurchase. There have been minor tweaks, but no substantive changes. It’s still the same story)
And coming up in just a few weeks is Miracles in Space. Y’all. I’ll do a dedicated post for this one soon but it’s an homage to my beloved Star Trek. It’s got alien races and politics, and I kid you not, a language that has rules and was created for me by an actual linguist. (who also happens to be my brother, but that doesn’t negate the linguist part) Oh and mpreg. You can preorder it here. And it’s part of a trio of sci fi stories, so if you’d like, you can get all three in one collection. Check it out.
So to sum up? I’ve been in a bad place, and it’s been a combination of outside and inside forces. But now that I’ve fully recognized it, I will do what I can to help myself. That’s not to say I won’t still have bad days, but here’s hoping they become fewer and farther between.
Yeah, so it’s been a while. And I always keep saying that I’m going to do better about keeping things updated and then never do. I need to try, that’s for sure.
But the truth is…I’m mentally wrung out.
I haven’t spoken much about the Dreamspinner debacle. I don’t intend to go into specific detail here either. I think it’s pretty well known that authors (and other content creators) are not getting paid and that there’s a lot of…waffle coming from the DSP staff, in particular the CEO. I don’t need to rehash it. I pulled all my titles with them back in May after yet another excuse about late payments. Late payments have been going on for quite a while, and there was always some excuse. And then everything started coming out, and I bit the bullet and requested my titles back. I was granted reversion immediately, and began the process of republishing them with JMS Books. Just about everything should be back out for purchase within the coming months, and some titles are already out again.
And as of today, no, I still haven’t gotten paid for Quarter 2.
I will say I’m sad at the state of things with that press, but it’s also not the same press I first signed with more than six years ago. And I need to do what is best for me and my writing career if I intend to keep writing.
With all that being said, it’s no wonder my creative mojo has kind of tanked. Not only is there this going on, but the day job has…gone a bit sideways and it’s also taking it’s toll. I find myself out of spoons, and fucks, and I just can’t at the end of the day. Most of the time.
I’ve been stress crafting soaps. And knitting some. And watching people create things on YouTube.
But in my heart of hearts, despite everything else, I am a writer. I have been since I was ten years old and first put pen to paper. And fingers to keyboard. I constantly live with voices in my head, plots and characters, and interesting turns of phrase. I’ve improved in my craft, and with each new thing I write, I try to get even better. I love creating stories, and helping my guys find their happily ever after. I may not be the most popular author in a fairly saturated genre, but I have a particular voice and there are those who enjoy my style, my characters, and my narrative.
So today I break ground on a new story. Today I remind myself that there are readers out there who want to see what I have coming up next. Today I remember it’s not all about the money, and that the joy of writing a story is it’s own reward. (Don’t get me wrong, the money is important as I, and all authors, deserve to be paid for our work. But it’s not the only thing.)
Kris T. Bethke--Author of M/M Romance 