Upcoming Audiobook!

Later this month, the audiobook version of The Inquisitor’s Gift will be coming to Audible! With all of the misogyny going on in the world today (ahem, looking at you, Mr. Trump), I think we all need more femdom romances. Femdom means the woman is the dominant. Move over alpha males! Get on your knees. (Maybe your hands and knees….) It’s high time a woman was in charge.

cover The Inquisitor’s Gift isn’t just about how hot it can get when a woman plays rough, it’s also a story of redemption and self-discovery–an exploration of power and love.

Petal Brightbone is a strong woman living in The Glorious City, the capitol of the Grandimanderian Empire. A survivor of sexual abuse, she serves the emperor as an Inquisitor, wringing confessions from political prisoners. For the purposes of breeding more people with magical powers to serve the empire, Petal is locked into a loveless marriage with a man who wishes to impregnate her so they can please their superiors and get tax credits. She is a creature of duty and habit, but she enjoys rebelling in small, secret ways. (Like using a shield spell to prevent pregnancy.) And she prides herself for being good at her job, breaking her prisoners with words when possible, through force when necessary.

When the new prisoner she must break is the magic instructor who starred in all of her naughty teen fantasies, she feels, for the first time since becoming an Inquisitor, torn between her duty to the empire and her desire. It doesn’t help that he’s an arrogant man who’s as stubborn as he is handsome. And not only does he harbor a hatred of the Overfather who rules the empire and a secret that could change everything, he also has a secret that pique’s Petal’s private interest. A secret that whets her darkest appetites.

She’s a pragmatist; he’s an idealist, and they’re on opposite sides. Can a shared fetish unite an unstoppable object with an immovable force? Or will their lust destroy them both?

 

 

My Fiction is My Truth

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Therapists often recommend journaling to people dealing with mental illness and trauma. I’ve never liked journaling. Maybe it’s because I get too self-conscious or because even my old wounds often feel too raw to record in some blunt, dry fashion. Instead, I write fiction. I’ve dealt with my trauma through fiction from a young age. I’ve learned to cover my experiences with layers of grit, imagination, and distance to create weird pearls that I hope others will enjoy. This is how I process pain, both personal and existential; this is how I grieve, scream, cry—this is even how I plead for justice or beg forgiveness.

Right now, someone reading this who has read my books is cocking his head like a confused beagle. “Um…your books are romances about kinky people getting it on and fantasies about people with horns. Some are comedies. How, exactly, are you dealing with anything writing stuff like that?”

While journaling can feel like trying to mold clay filled with broken glass, the creativity of writing allows me to be honest while wearing a mask.

I change people, places, and things—but the emotions and some of the basic building blocks have my soulprints all over them. While journaling can feel like trying to mold clay filled with broken glass, the creativity of writing allows me to be honest while wearing a mask. I guess it’s like Oscar Wilde said, “Man is less himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

So, while I’ve never lived in a pre-industrialized dystopian empire like Elarhe in Lover, Destroyer, he and I both know what it’s like to be an outcast, to mourn a murdered friend, to be homeless, and to yearn for things that seem beyond your grasp. While I’ve never destroyed an entire kingdom like Kite, his shame and insecurity resonates with me because it’s how I felt when the relative who sexually abused me died when I was sixteen. I didn’t feel as relieved as I did ashamed—like I had somehow killed him with my quiet, clumsy rage.

I wrote the last pages of the silly romantic comedy, His Dungeon Discovery, with tears streaming down my face because a situation reminded me of the death of my beloved emotional support cat, Sand, after his long battle with kidney failure and heart disease. The situation in the book is actually quite different from my real life tragedy, but the feelings are similar.

In Zen Alpha, a contemporary gay romcom, Bradley’s mother is a narcissist who belittles and gaslights him. My own mother was a toxic narcissist who committed murder by proxy, killing pets to frighten and control her children. Bradley’s mom doesn’t seem quite as evil in comparison, but Zen Alpha is intended to be a heartwarming story, and it was more fun to write about a self-absorbed old belle than it was to write about dead animals.

Fiction allows us, both as writers and readers, a safe space to dance with our demons and slay our evil stepmothers.

Speaking of child abuse and mentally ill parents, it isn’t a coincidence Petal, the heroine of The Inquisitor’s Gift, feels coerced by her abusive stepfather to live a life to which she’s not suited. I imagine most children who grew up in homes with abuse, addiction, and mental illness know what it’s like to keep secrets and to wrestle with becoming the person they want to be rather than the person the secrets shaped.

Dealing with trauma through writing fiction isn’t some technique I created. J.R.R. Tolkien dealt with his service in World War I, and fears inspired by World War II, by writing about hobbits and magical lands. Rod Serling’s WWII traumas helped give us The Twilight Zone. I believe so many fiction writers through the centuries have been plagued by depression and anxiety, not because they’re writers, but because they write in order process their feelings. That’s one of the main reasons I write. It’s also why I read. Fiction allows us, both as writers and readers, a safe space to dance with our demons and slay our evil stepmothers.

So, if you’re a writer, don’t be afraid if your prose is cathartic. I would worry more if it weren’t. And if you’re a reader, thank you for allowing writers like me to don our masks and reveal to you our truest selves.

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Book Review: “His Boy: A Gay Romantic Comedy”

When I downloaded His Boy: A Gay Romantic Comedy by Dean Cole into my Kindle, I thought it would be a cute  comedic romance. Its narrator is quite hilarious, and there is a romance, but His Boy is so much more than a simple love story—it’s the tumultuous journey of a young man’s search for success, self-empowerment, and happiness. The key phrase that spawned the title is not what my dirty little mind expected; it comes from a place I think many people will find powerful and relatable.

Twenty-five year old Charlie tells us his story in his own words. Warning: if you read this book in public, be prepared to laugh out loud at some of this guy’s observations and antics. He’s a bit on the prissy side, humorously vain, and always strives to look his best. (From his designer threads to his intimate wax job.) He has been the kept man of a wealthy cheater since he was twenty-two and is used to a posh lifestyle. He wants to break free of his faithless boyfriend once and for all, but that’s easier said than done when one is afraid of being homeless. It’s even harder when said boyfriend is a controlling, manipulative hypocrite.

In his quest for freedom, Charlie leaves the big city for a humble English village. He encounters a rugged, scruffy, instantly likable bookstore owner named Nathan. If you don’t fall in love with this character, something is seriously wrong with you, and I hope our paths never cross.

In the quaint village, Charlie meets a cavalcade of interesting locals, some endearing, some I wanted to throttle. All of the supporting characters, from Charlie’s beauty shop bestie and her gay dog, to an absolutely horrid director, are well drawn. I felt like I’ve met some of these people before in real life.

Readers who aren’t writers probably don’t realize how difficult it is to craft detailed descriptions in first person point of view—where the main character tells his own story. Cole makes this difficult task seem effortless. Readers who aren’t writers might not appreciate this feat, but they’ll definitely appreciate the vivid images Cole paints with words. The places and people Charlie encounters can be imagined clearly—and those images are often delightfully funny. The way Cole describes Charlie’s fur babies shows he has spent a considerable amount of time observing cats, and like the rest of the imagery, it’s spot on.

I’m giving His Boy five out of five stars. If you’re looking for a truly entertaining story about the struggles of gay man told in a style that will push all of your emotional buttons, you must read His Boy: A Gay Romantic Comedy.

 

Book Review: Gash of the Titans

Gash of the Titans, by Clara J Douglass, is a dystopian, post-apocalyptic science fiction novel. Set in a future where global warming and nuclear war have transformed the Earth into a wasteland, this  novel follows the adventures of Donthiki (also known as Dawn) a human woman with a strange genetic mutation—a fanged vagina. This is not, as its playful title and hilarious tagline might suggest, campy erotica. This a well-written saga reminiscent of old-school science fiction and adventure books. It takes itself seriously, and its epic style and careful, realistic details whisk the reader into a Jungian cave splashed with campfire light where mythic stories not only entertain us, but reveal much about our past and current reality.

The story follows Dawn from a small, scared girl living in a coop in a gender-segregated tenement just outside of Feenix in the kingdom of Eplunum, to a self-possessed woman who accepts her bizarre mutation and learns how to draw strength from it. Dawn’s resilience and courage are contagious, and the self-confidence she discovers becomes the catalyst for a revolution. In her world, men and women live separately—women in cages in squalid conditions, and men in cities who seem to occupy their time with leisure and Roman circus-like games. The men use the women for slave labor, forcing them to work the fields and raise animals to supply the men with food. The men also use them for fornication and breeding, taking male babies to be raised as men in the cities while leaving girls to learn the servile life of the women in the slums.

This book is for adults, and is both erotic and violent. The polyamorous sexual relationships of the women with each other contrast sharply with the sexual brutality visited on them by the men. The theme that women are the people who bring life into the world, nurture and grow things, is highlighted by their tender lovemaking. They use sex to heal and comfort each other and to strengthen bonds of friendship within the impoverished, close-knit community.

The men in this future weaponize sex. They use it to control, to dominate. One of the main villains, an utterly vile sadist named Boaz, prefers men sexually, but enjoys dominating and torturing women. Although he has some sort of tryst with a male guard, he doesn’t seem cable of anything approaching a loving relationship. He, like the other men in Eplunum, are too concerned with dominating and humiliating everything around them to care about things like nurturing or cooperation—two things the women understand innately.

Although how, exactly, the genders became divided isn’t addressed, I didn’t find it difficult to imagine something like this happening. Throughout history, women have been treated as less than, as subhuman, as sexual objects, and property. It’s actually much easier to envision such a future than one where humanity has solved all of its religious and economic differences (Star Trek) or many worlds where a large number of the inhabitants seem to be humans (Star Wars.)

Douglass is a master of both action and sex. The fight scenes are impressive and easy to visualize—the consensual sex scenes are electrifying. The book boasts several surprising twists, some “oh, no!” moments, and enough bloody battle sequences to make George R. R. Martin proud.

All in all, this is a beautifully told revenge-tale. It should be cathartic for anyone who has suffered at the hands of men or feels sickened by the misogyny being normalized by the Trump administration. It is, however, gory and brutal, and some readers might find the violence triggering.

I’m giving Gash of the Titans five out of five stars. If you’re looking for an exciting dystopian adventure with a strong female lead, add Gash of the Titans to your to-be-read list today.

Represent!: Autism Awareness

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Welcome to the first installment of Represent!—a blog feature that introduces readers to books that highlight good causes, celebrate diverse characters, or simply make the world a better place. In honor of World Autism Awareness Week (April 1-7), let’s take a look at some indie books featuring autistic characters.

  • YA

Through Fisher’s Eyes: An Autism Adventure, is a magical YA fantasy by Paul Nelson. This is the first book of Fisher’s Autism Trilogy, and introduces us to Fisher, a seventeen-year-old boy with autism. Although Fisher doesn’t speak, the story is told from his point of view, allowing the reader to experience Fisher’s world as he does. In writing Through Fisher’s Eyes, author Paul Nelson says he drew from his experiences as the father of his autistic son, Michael.

  • Paranormal

This is also a great time to check out Nelson’s paranormal time-travel novel, Burning Bridges along the Susquehanna. The book, written for adults, follows the adventures of a teen girl, Lilly, and her autistic little brother. It features ethnically diverse characters.

  • M/M Romance

What We Want, is a charming contemporary gay romance by Eliott Griffen, a non-binary author with Asperger”s Syndrome. As one of the characters in What We Want is also an Aspie, this is an #ownvoices book. (It also features a pet cat named Meow!)

My detailed reviews of these books are coming soon! In the meantime, treat yourself to one or all of them. Happy reading!

New Features are Coming!

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I’m adding a few new features to this blog! Mixed in with my usual musings and news about writing and my books, you will soon find blog posts with these special markers:

  • Book Reviews—I’m going to start posting reviews of books that I think readers will enjoy. In the coming months, I’ll post reviews of books featuring characters with unique abilities and LGBTQ+ characters. The books will include an exciting mix of genres—romance, YA, fantasy, dystopian, BDSM, and more!
  • Represent!—I’ll highlight a book I have already read or plan to read soon. I’ll select these books to draw attention to important causes and subjects.
  • Prism—I’ll interview authors, take a closer look at their lives and writing practices, and explore their books.
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My Medical Mystery

sleepy catWhat follows is my personal experience. I’m not a doctor. PLEASE DON’T EVER STOP TAKING A PSYCHIATRIC MEDICATION WITHOUT YOUR DOCTOR’S APPROVAL. I was hesitant to post this because I don’t want to scare anyone away from taking lithium. As with so many things, especially psychiatric drugs, experiences vary. Lithium was the first medication I took after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It really helped me, and I don’t regret taking it. However, I wish I had known more about some of the possible side effects.

For about six months last year, I felt like I had little to no energy. I woke up after my usual six and a half to seven hours of sleep feeling exhausted. The cup of tea I’ve had every morning for the past twenty years did nothing to wake me up. I would start nodding off a few hours after being awake. I felt drugged.

I started sleeping ten to fifteen hours a day. I’m prone to depression and had been having some work-related stress, so I thought I might be depressed. Unlike other depressive episodes, however, I still wanted to do things—I just didn’t have the energy. Normally, when I’m depressed, I lose interest in things I love, and then, in everything.

This was different. Everything I normally enjoyed doing—writing, reading, walking, playing with my animals, binging Netflix—made me profoundly sleepy. I had to drink an energy drink to walk every day. Then I started drinking two. Then, I stopped walking. I worried about falling asleep while driving. I changed my habits to include naps.

Visits to my general practitioner yielded few clues and no results. My inflammatory markers were elevated, as were platelets and lymphocytes. I worried about blood cancer, but further tests showed no change; my blood work was abnormal but didn’t worsen.

Then, my right armpit and part of my upper arm became numb. My dexterity worsened. I began dropping things. I lost my balance frequently. I became increasingly frightened. A neurologist thought I might have a pinched nerve, a brain tumor, or MS. However, the MRI’s she ordered came back clean. She told me she didn’t know what was wrong with me. The fingers of my right hand became numb. The toes of my right foot followed suit. I saw a different neurologist. He said I my symptoms were caused by anxiety. If he hadn’t seemed like such a nice guy, I would have smacked him.

I have PTSD and have problems with anxiety sometimes, but I hadn’t been feeling particularly anxious. Between naps, I started phone banking for Beto O’Rourke’s senatorial campaign. I met new people and enjoyed my time volunteering. I trained to be a Phone Bank Captain, but I couldn’t stay awake for more than one three-hour shift—even with Red Bull and coffee—so I didn’t get to actually train anyone. Volunteering isn’t something I do when I’m depressed or experiencing anxiety. I was certain my symptoms were caused by something physical.

As my fatigue and balance worsened, I gained weight and felt weaker and weaker. I started losing sensation in my left fingers and sometimes on the right side of my face. The other numb parts simply stayed numb. More blood work showed that my thyroid hormones were low despite taking thyroid medication. My GP increased my thyroid medicine. Nothing changed. My GP doubled my vitamin D. I took B vitamins, a multi-vitamin, and iron.  I drank caffeine like a fiend. I still couldn’t function without ten to fifteen hours of sleep, with thirteen hours being the norm.  Even when I was awake, I felt tired. On a caffeine buzz, I could fake being a normal human, between naps, for a couple of hours.

On my regular six month visit to my psychiatrist, I told her everything that was happening. She reassured me (as my therapist, whom I see bi-weekly, already had) that she didn’t believe I was depressed nor having symptoms of anxiety. She suggested my lithium, which I had taken without incident for about five years, might be blocking my thyroid hormones. She cut my dose in half to see if I would notice a difference.

After three days of taking 300 mg of lithium as opposed to 600 mg, I woke up feeling rested. I could stand on one leg again. After a week, my yoga instructor at the class I was taking in hopes of regaining my balance, noticed that my balance had improved significantly. I started writing again. I felt more alive than I had in months.

My psychiatrist took me off lithium completely. I was frightened at first, but I had been taking another mood-stabilizer, Lamictal, for about three years. I’ve been off lithium for a few weeks now, and I feel great. I haven’t had any mania or hypomanic symptoms. My numbness disappeared everywhere. I’m back to sleeping six and a half to seven hours a night, cooking, exercising, hanging out with friends, and drinking a cup of tea in the morning. If I have a cup of green tea in the afternoon or coffee with a friend, it’s because I want to—not because I have to.

My symptoms of hypothyroidism didn’t match most of the symptoms I’ve seen for it on various websites. I don’t know if that’s because my hypothyroidism was lithium-induced or because I’m a weirdo. I have found a few sites suggesting that hypothyroidism can cause numbness due to water retention, a theory that my new internal medicine doctor thought sounded probable.

So, about six months, numerous tests, and five doctors later, I have a diagnosis and my symptoms have disappeared. Besides avoiding lithium, I take a thyroid pill every morning. It’s such an easy fix for something that totally upended my life.

If you’re taking lithium and experiencing severe fatigue, please talk to your doctor about your risk of lithium-induced hypothyroidism—especially if you aren’t having normal symptoms of depression. And if you’re anyone suffering from symptoms you believe are caused by a physical illness, keep searching for answers. If possible, keep going to doctors until one listens to you.