Not So Month of Fun, Other Disasters and a Few Bright Spots

April has not been a good month for me. I am embroiled in a bureaucratic nightmare involving my insurance and other aid that is taking weeks to sort out. This happened on the heels of a diagnosis of a debilitating condition that can only be managed and not cured. The plans to manage it are on hold until I can get my insurance back. Thus, I am in constant near excruciating pain. I am not sleeping well. I have not been able to swim in weeks. I actually feel worse than my 8^th round of chemo – the one that put me in the hospital. Coping is an hour by hour process right now as I wait for this to right itself or decide to go postal. It could go either way depending on the hour.

Needless to say, I could really use a magical Month of Fun this May. I haven't really been able to plan any big outings, because I just can't think that far ahead. I also don't know what we'll be able to afford. Not that I am into large presents during the MoF. It's that things really are that tight right now. So, right now, my goals are to get back to my routine since coming home from Philly last year and maybe indulge in cooking something interesting. Maybe there will be a bottle of bubbly somewhere.

There is good news that keeps me going. Of course, my not wanting to go out of the house meant that some things started happening with the films that required I go sign contracts. And I had a long and hellish communte for a meeting that will mean a lot to the publishing company and our convention travels. I can't give details about any of it right now, but I hope to break a lot of that news next month. It was nice to find that I have fans in some surprising places.

And then, there is Vampire Rent Boy. It was born of a flippant comment from Jon about a stock photo I was looking at. It's turned into my first erotic parody for publication since The Secret Logs of Mistress Janeway. It is already a bestseller in four categories on Amazon Kindle. It is not for the faint hearted, but is it is terribly funny. Here's a relatively tame excerpt:

“The hardest part, actually, is trying to appear excited about a St. Andrew's Cross,” Tristan said bleakly. “I mean, who hasn't been tied up on a St. Andrew's Cross?”

Tristan didn't realize that his current popularity was largely because of Twilight. He had stopped reading with the advent of talkies, and he was always behind on popular culture. On the other hand, Klaus, Tristan's manager – he hated the word pimp – loved vampire fever. Clients paid obscene amounts of money for playmates who didn't break.

Despite his immortality, some of those encounters with his clients could be incredibly difficult. Thus, like legions of courtesans – Tristan really hated the term whore or hooker – he found himself in a booth at a tavern, in this case a local waterhole called Muttley's, trying to drown his sorrows. He didn't drink, but it did help to share woes with the others in Klaus' stable.

“Yeah, a sub can't ask a Dom to kindly shove this dildo gag in your pie hole,” Keiko muttered. Then, she smiled with glee. “That's why I'm so glad I never let my clients drive!”

Keiko's smile was more chilling than lovely, even with that beautiful face. She could easily earn ten times what Tristan earned, but she refused to bottom. Tristan wondered why Klaus never forced the issue. He wouldn't stand for the rest of them having a preference for clients.

“We know what happened the last time one of them drove,” Kevin quipped over his martini.

Tristan didn't know what happened, and judging from the killing glare Keiko shot Kevin, it wouldn't be wise to ask. Tristan really wished he could have a martini. It looked so clear and crisp. It seemed to him that it should ping.

“Shut. Up. Kevin,” Keiko hissed.

“It's Miranda to you, honey.”

“Now, now,” Tristan said before Kevin could open his mouth again. “Let's not fight, okay. I get so little time to talk to anyone who gets me.”

Kevin sighed as he reached over to stroke Tristan's waist length, jet black hair.

“I really don't know why you get so glum, Trissy,” he murmured. “You've always been comfortable in you own skin.”

“You would be, too if you'd pick one,” Keiko said sweetly.

Tristan put a hand on Kevin's thigh to keep him from getting angry.

“That's not fair, Keiko,” Tristan said with a shake of his head. “It's not easy to change gender. I find that it can be done at all a marvel. Such notions would have been considered witchcraft in my day.”

“Whatever. He's not getting snipped anytime soon,” Keiko retorted. “He doesn't call himself a she. And he still uses Kevin, despite the mega tits. Do you even have a girl name?”

“I told you! Miranda!” Kevin snapped before slogging down the martini.

“It's Miranda this week!” Keiko snapped

“I need another drink.”

“Go easy on that, Kevin dear,” Tristan said then whispered. “Klaus won't like it.”

“Screw him. I'm paying for the drinks, and that's renting the booth,” he muttered before stalking to the bar.

The weight of Kevin's breasts made his gait ungainly. The F-M heels made him look like a hazard to life and limb. Tristan wondered vaguely about how Kevin walked when he was his other self. He looked over at Keiko who was watching Kevin as well.

“Don't say it,” Keiko murmured. “I know I'm being a bitch to him today. You haven't been listening to him whine for the last hour about something he can fix on his own.”

Tristan couldn't argue the point. That would involve thinking, and that would give him a headache. Instead, he looked at Klaus' resident Dominatrix expectantly.

“I'm more than over clients that get pissed when I won't let them top from below,” she said. “Trying to keep from breaking every bone in their arrogant bodies leaves me really infuriated.”

“Why do they ask for a Dominatrix then?” Tristan asked.

“Honey, if you find out, let me know,” she muttered. “Klaus should know these young guys don't want someone like me. They barely know who they are. None of them are confident enough to really bottom for a Domme.”

“Klaus likes the money,” Tristan said.

“That's very true,” she admitted. “He's send me to a gorilla cage if the gorilla had a platinum card.”

That made Tristan laugh. He finally felt like smiling.

Kevin returned by then in a far better mood. Tristan thought it may have been the new pitcher of martinis, but he was trying to get them to look at a booth across the room.

“Where has HE been all my life,” Kevin said with a waggle of his brows.

Tristan looked over to the man at the table diagonal to where they sat. He wasn't expecting much. When Kevin had that many martinis, his taste ran toward the old and strangely hairy. This man was neither. Tristan wouldn't call him classically handsome, but there was something about the square jaw and deep set dark eyes that was compelling. He was broad shouldered and the fit of his custom suit told Tristan that he was powerfully built. His posture was perfect – something odd for this casual slouchy era in time. The man looked about for the typically elusive servers for a moment or two before standing and making his way to the bar. Tristan's jaw dropped. He was really tall. Six foot six or seven if he was an inch.

“His hands and feet are really big,” Keiko observed impassively. Tristan expected an exact measure to the centimeter. “With that height, big hands...big feet...you know what that means.”

“What?” Tristan asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh, sweet mystery of life I've found you,” Kevin prompted.

“What?” Tristan gaped.

“How drunk are you?” Keiko demanded.

“He has a big dick,” Kevin declared in a voice that was four martini loud.

“That's not very lady-like,” Tristan hissed, hoping the tall stranger hadn't heard.

“You're more lady-like than he ever will be,” Keiko muttered.

Of course, the stranger looked over at them. The amused smirk revealed a deep dimple that kept him from looking smug and made him look quite charming. Something struck Tristan just then. It was a powerful spark of recognition.

“I know him,” he murmured softly. “I'm sure of it.”

Tristan wracked his brain as he looked at the man who was smiling at the bartender while his drink was poured. He looked over at Tristan when he had his drink and raised the glass to him. His expression seemed to be that of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, no you don't, Trissy,” Kevin said. “I've seen that expression before. He can't be the love of your life when you've never met him.”

Tristan was about to protest that he had met him before, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen those eyes and that smile.

It's available here:

Amazon Links:

US, UK, DE, FR, ES, IT , NL, JP, BR, CA, MX, AU, IN

As for the Month of Fun, Stay Tuned.

Photos of the Infamous Pool!

I was finally able to find photos of the pool where I swim. I was too chicken to take them myself, but I could some on a services review site. I was pleased to see that the YMCA has a very nice rating on Yelp.com. I agree. So, now that you have an idea of the length of the pool. You can see how much I have to swim to do the average of 6 laps that I'm up to. They are still fairly slow due to traffic in the open pool. I'm going to start going to the lap session with lanes that are in photos number 2 and 3.

This is the pool from the driveway of the YMCA.

This is shot from the outside in from the deep end of the pool.

And this is from the entrance from the lobby. The railing is where we get in via steps.

Another angle of the deep end from near the lifeguard's perch.

Ensnared Publishing Update and Magical Moments

Before we get to the blog topic, I have big news. The next Ensnared – print version – will be released for Yaoi-con. Meaning, it will be available for purchase on Amazon and other outlets beginning the weekend of Yaoi-con (September 18). There will be a special sale price that weekend to match the convention price. That's usually a 25 to 30% discount on the list price. The ebook will be handled differently than before. We received many complaints about the ebook being too long. It was a surprising number of complaints. So, we will do a staggered release in the run up to Yaoi-con of ebooks that are shorter installments of the whole. We also plan to make sure the print versions of the book are as attractively priced as we can. That may mean that the next print volume could be two. I've been spinning this story into many unexpected places, so it is getting to be far longer than I first thought. Speaking of that, onto the blog!

Magical Moments

I was asked a question during the Valentine's Day online party that was most interesting. The question was what was the best thing about writing. The best part of writing for me are what I call Magical Moments when the characters I've written are so well developed that they begin to act on their own. It can reek havoc on my outlines, but the story is often better when I don't fight the direction the character wants to take. Darius has taken the reins in this book with some astonishing results for me. There were scenes that I thought would be a paragraph or two that turned into these lovely little character moments between Darius or Andreas and supporting characters. And some of those moments gave me a path to the climax of the book that works far better than the one I had planned. I'm not winging the plot by any stretch. The outline I created is still the template. I've just had a detour here and there. These changes have made the book even more fun to write. I suppose it's because these unexpected scenes have all been sweet or funny or hot.

These little scenes are important, because Darius goes through as many changes in this book as Andreas had in the first book. It is essential that readers are able to get past the frosty, aloof nature of the Cosi and see Darius and Mykos in a different light so that this change resonates. I've also been really pleased that I can give my readers time with their favorite supporting characters in some very entertaining ways without it appearing that I was trying to find ways to feature them. All of these scenes happened in a natural way.

It's not really surprising that this sort of magic is occurring. I've been living with the characters for years now. I've spent a great deal of time thinking about the next part of their lives. This cast of characters are very dear friends by now. I think that this knowledge is subconscious like the way I know my friends or family. I innately know how they would react in a given situation. Still, it really feels like magic when a scene starts building right before my eyes with seemingly no effort. And I prefer thinking of it that way.

I have no preview this time. There are too many spoilers in what I'm doing right now. Instead, I give you a quick sketch (30 minutes and out) of a towel clad Darius swinging his hair like a tart. The point of view is Andreas' from a reclining position. I hope you enjoy.   

Swimming, Black Women and the Hair Thing

Swimming has caused me a problem that I hadn't really thought about – fuzzy edges. In the parlance of Black hair care, this would be the hair at the hair line. It grows in fastest and is often the least chemically processed and unruly. I hadn't thought about the problems with re-touching my relaxed hair and contact with chlorine in a pool when I started swimming. I swim three times a week (ideally), so there was just no time for me to re-touch my hair when it wouldn't be dangerously exposed to pool chemicals. No matter how well fitting the swimming cap is, my hair still gets wet at my forehead and the nape of my neck. It was a big problem with my first cap. It just couldn't contain all that hair. The picture to the left isn't as wild as it can get. It's damp from the pool. It's about a quarter Chaka Kahn. When it's in the full Chaka, my cousin swears I have three heads of hair on one scalp. I had to get a new one for long hair to contain it all (Note my cool mirrored goggles. They kinda scale the seniors in the pool). Ultimately, I decided that now was the time to just stop the practice of chemically relaxing altogether and grow my hair out au natural. But that left the problem of the fuzzy edges.

Is this really a thing, you wonder. Indeed, it really is. I forgot my black beret one morning in a rush for my bus. I have my hair pulled back in a French braid and neatly pinned, but I don't use anything on my hairline as hair products will make my swim cap slip, and I end up washing my hair in the shower after swimming anyway. The driver, a lovely Black woman around about my age, actually quietly asked me if I was feeling poorly. She noted that I usually have my act together leaving the house, and those edges made her wonder. I told her I forgot my hat en route to swimming and allayed her worries.

The Bus Driver Lady's concerns made me realize that I was in need of a routine that would tame my hair while keeping from becoming a part of pool chemical induced superhero origin story. Of course, the internet had a lot of information – especially Youtube. Just look up natural hair care and a plethora of videos pop up for every situation. It seems transitioning from chemically treated hair to natural hair is a thing amongst Black women. Thus, there was a lot of advice to be had on the subject. There was a mind boggling amount of advice on the subject and a cottage industry on specific hair care products for the transition. Fortunately, I have enough stuff in my cabinet to make do. I started last week making sure my hair was properly moisturized and conditioned from the roots to the tips. My edges are no longer unruly. I like the feel of my hair, and Jon likes the way it looks as well. This could be a really good thing.

As for the the swimming itself, I am reaching the point where it's difficult to cope with the goings on during the open pool time. I found that the later sessions have lanes in the pool. And there is a slow lane for swimmers who aren't very strong. They'll even allow me to wear the float belt in the slow lane. The later start would have other advantages for me as it is really difficult for me to get out of the house in the morning on some days. I'm now doing 6 or 7 laps routinely. I'd do more, but navigating the bobbing seniors eats up time. I sure can't work on speed with all those people in the way. So, it's a new time for me.

The next big hurdle for me is buying a new swim suit. Mine is getting to be too loose as I lose weight and tone up. Still, I hate buying such garments. The mirrors in a dressing room are not my friend. And this will be a lot of exposure. But it must be done. I don't want the current one to slip off in front of the lifeguard. He's very nice and should not be traumatized.

Stay tuned.  

Hot Locker Room and Bad Backstrokes

I am still swimming. I haven't talked much about it of late, because I've plateaued at the number of laps and intensity. There was nothing new to report. Well, the new year brings new challenges. First, there is the heat in the locker room. I needn't have fretted about being cold on the rainy days before I dried off enough to dress. That locker room is so hot (most of the swimmers are elderly) that I am dry before I can walk from the shower to the lockers (maybe 20 feet). I am usually sweating before I can get my clothes off to put on my bathing suit. It's hot in there. The ladies still complain that it's cold. Wow.

The other news is the new swimmer in the pool. I had found variants in my head for all of the characters from my beloved swimming anime, Free! Eternal Summer save for one. The back stroke

swimmer, Makoto (He's the guy in the back in the swim jammers with the green trim in the photo above). Not that there isn't a back stroker. There is. I refer to him as NotMakoto. The sweet young man from that series would never swim horizontally across a crowded pool. It didn't get any better when he was glared into swimming the length of the pool. It's an open swim -- no lanes And there are elderly people bobbing all over the place in random patterns. But NotMakoto just does his own thing. He's hit one really good swimmer even though she tends to hug the wall. He's been such a challenge that they now have two lifeguards during that session. Why don't they say something to him? I don't know. The seniors seem to like to self police. I think something will be said soon.

Meanwhile, now that we've survived the colds and other unpleasantness, I'm hoping to do three sessions a week for a few weeks before I decide about moving from the open pool setting to the lande swimming later in the day. I still don't think I'm strong enough for that yet. But I have lost more weight during the holidays. I'm now at the point where I'm looking up videos to improve my form. So, things are moving along. So long as NotMakoto doesn't run into me, things will continue to go swimmingly.