Scheduling Time for Writing—and People

Cat absorbed in creativity.

Writers often tout the importance of writing every day—even if it’s a thousand words. Simply “showing up” is part of the discipline that allows one to become a working writer. I agree with this whole-heartedly. It builds a good habit and is also therapeutic.

I don’t always accomplish it. I have three autoimmune diseases and frequently cope with depression. Some days I need to sleep all day or simply recharge my battery in some other way. Other days, if I’m struggling to write, for whatever reason, I do research on different aspects of my WIP (that often leads to writing!) or play around with my outline to see if I’m stuck because something isn’t working on the skeletal level.

However, although I’ve become pretty good at “showing up” for my writing, sometimes I’m not great at “showing up” for my life. I’m an introvert and enjoy time by myself. I love writing—even when it’s driving me insane. Through the years, I’ve realized I need to pay attention to and be as disciplined about nourishing my relationships.

I realized this morning that I haven’t seen my best friend in about three weeks. Because her husband and I are immunocompromised, we waited to get fully vaccinated before seeing each other. I’ve seen her twice since then. Part of my hesitancy has been a fear of the delta variant, but a larger part of it has been this novel. (As usual, I’m blaming Thomas. *shakes fist at sweet Thomas*) Even on days when I’ve struggled with this novel, I’ve been completely absorbed by it. I’m vowing, as I write this, to make a concerted effort to see my friends more frequently.

One of the things that seems to help me is creating a schedule. Giving the people in my life the same importance I do my writing, helps me tame that elusive creature “work/life balance.” I’ve noticed the success of this with my husband. He has worked from home since the beginning of the pandemic. Because we were both depressed and anxious, I decided early on to drop whatever I was doing—including writing—at 4:30 pm, when he got off work—so we could hang out. We started calling it happy hour and included drinks and snacks and a relaxation video on YouTube in the background. We discuss our day, news, whatever and basically just enjoy each other’s company until it’s time to make dinner around six.

It has become a time of day I cherish. Now that it’s a habit, I usually find myself winding down a scene right around then. I’m basically using the same discipline I used to train myself to build a solid writing schedule to make time for someone I love.

I wonder if other writers, especially introverts, find balancing writing with life difficult, too.

If you like M/M romance, check out my completed paranormal series, Love Songs for Lost Worlds. You can find the first book, Know Thy Demons on Amazon here.

Gut Punched

I’ve been having problems working out the second half of the second act of my latest novel. (It’s all Thomas’s fault, of course, all he wants to do is fool around with Hadrian when they have a killer to catch.) Anyway, I wrote a weird, kinky short story, so I decided to publish it.

So, here’s Gut Punched: An Erotic M/M Gut Punching Short Story. Gut punching is a fetish, and this story is a celebration of it. You can find it on Amazon here.

In this erotic M/M romance short story, two lonely gay men amid the Covid pandemic find meaning and love through the fetish of gut punching.

Ben wants someone to punch his abs, so Zack has agreed to give him the stomachache he’s always wanted. Ben still hasn’t fully recovered from his ex leaving him three years ago. He tries to punish himself but can’t get the release he needs. Zack loves to punch men in the gut, but he’s never had a boyfriend who enjoyed it.

Can a good, hard gut punching session bring these two together?

Writing While Evil

Sometimes writers feel like gods. At the moment, I feel like a fiend. My favorite character this time is Thomas, a shy gentleman who happens to see ghosts. He’s also a virgin when the story begins.

Plots are like roller coasters. With each scene I’ve been writing, I’m ramping up to a pivotal scene (the Midpoint) that will plunge my characters into a huge, stomach-flipping dip. It’s going to devastate Thomas. In the mean time, I’m watching him grow more in love, watching him venture farther out of his comfort zone and into a bigger, wider world than he has dared to imagine.

And I’m there, barely discernible in the shadows, whispering lines into his ear, telling him things that aren’t quite true. He’s such a gentle, good character. He has no idea I’m fattening him up for the kill.

It’s not, of course, an actual death—and I’ve already hurt him quite a bit—but this scene is going to wound him deeply. I’m not looking forward to it. I’m actually writing this blog to avoid it just a little longer. Unlike some writers, I don’t relish hurting characters—especially characters I love. And I love Thomas to bits. I hope readers love him at least half as much as I do.

I guess it’s time to slink away and break poor Thomas’s sweet heart. What’s worse, perhaps, is I give him the terrible advice afterward. Like some cruel, sabotaging friend, I’ll turn him in the wrong direction and give him a push. I feel sickened just thinking about it.

But I’m doing it because it wouldn’t be much of a story if everything was perfect. ( I suppose there are stories like that, but I don’t care for them.) If you, like me, enjoy riding an emotional roller coaster, check out some of my gay romances! None of my HEAs come easily.

Free Queer Books for August 2021!

Get my M/M Paranormal Romance, Know Thy Demons, as well as three other fabulous Queer Speculative Fiction books when you join the Queer Sci Fi mailing list.

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When a Story’s Theme is a Revelation

Metaphor for a sweet protagonist? (He does remind me a little of Thomas.)

When I write, I’ve noticed I’m often sifting through my baggage. Writing is fun, it’s my vocation, and it’s also therapy. I usually don’t realize how a work symbolizes some part of my life, either something I’m working on or something I need to work on, until I’m already into it. This time, I’m about midway through my current story, Carillon’s Curse, and starting to tease out its theme. (I start out with some vague idea of a novel’s theme, then zero in on it as I write.)

I’m still piecing it together, but a component of it slapped me right upside the head.

I’ve always been a people pleaser. I gush over strangers, have few boundaries, and put the wants of others ahead of my own. I shrink in unfamiliar—and sometimes in familiar environments—trying to take up as little room as possible. A friend once said, “Do you realize how many times you say you’re sorry? Why are you so sorry?”

Basically, I’m sorry I’m alive. I’m sorry for the space I take up on this planet. I think this stems from growing up with a physically and emotionally abusive parent. I always thought if I was good—if I could be oh, so very, very good—I wouldn’t be hurt. I guess I also internalized her anger and resentment toward me.

Three months ago I started transitioning from female to male. After saying I was genderqueer for a long time, I finally realized that I had been saying that because I didn’t think transitioning was a real option. The pandemic hit, and my shell cracked wide open. To my surprise, my husband was fully supportive. We’re closer now than ever before. (And we were pretty obnoxiously close before.)

I don’t know if it’s the testosterone, the pandemic, or my age, but I free and alive and valid. I’m not putting up with crap anymore. I’m not going back to that person who has to smile even when I’m feeling shitty. I don’t need to go out of my way to make everyone comfortable. I’m not sorry for being here. For the first time, when I celebrated Pride Month, I felt truly proud. I actually, maybe for the first time ever, really like myself.

Okay, so what does this have to do with a gay Western paranormal romance? Both of the main characters, in different ways and for different reasons, feel flawed and unworthy of love. These two good men, tied to their pasts and unable to attain true happiness, are chasing a serial killer who thinks he’s freaking awesome. This guy believes he’s helping his victims and society. He’s a narcissistic creep who, in his arrogance, is sure he has all of the answers.

My job, as the writer of this story, is to send these two good guys down the paths they need to stop this killer and find the love of their lives. Sometimes writers feel like gods. So often, as with this book, I feel more like a shepherd, guiding my heroes to a happily ever after.

Who knew shepherds sometimes learned from their lambs?

Why I Write

Recently, someone asked me, “Why do you write?”

I had to think about that longer than I would have guessed. I write because sometimes I need to hide from the stresses of the real world, the wolves at the door that howl for blood and bone. Writing allows me to sink into an imaginary world I can control with characters I create who are braver than I am. At the same time I’m hiding, I’m also processing things that are happening in my life, or things that happened in my past. So, it’s a different kind of hiding than covering my head with a blanket, although sometimes that’s good, too.

Recently, I released the last book in my Love Songs for Lost Worlds trilogy, Infernal Hope. (The whole trilogy is available on Amazon.) I had traveled through three books, a horrendous presidency, a global pandemic, and an insurrection with Frank and Kasimir. I watched them grow at my fingertips, watched their love blossom. I saw my sweet (okay Frank’s not always that sweet!) boys grow into young men. They were not only my friends, they became a part of me like few characters ever have. I finished their story and let them go.

And then I became quite depressed. I had a new book outlined and waiting for me, but, after writing furiously while the world seemed to collapse, I found myself unable to write now that things were calmer. I wondered for a while if I truly had any more books in me. And if I did, would anyone read them? None of my books are best sellers. They’re such odd little things, they’ll probably never be.

Once I thought about it, I realized that I did, in fact, need to write no matter how many people read my books. I need to write for me. Being able to share my works with the world is a bonus, and I’m grateful for all of the people who read my books and connect with my characters. At the end of the day, though, I need to write to calm that feeling of static that rises from my skin. Writing doesn’t simply keep the wolves from my door, it gives me the power to make them my friends.

And that is why I write.

Cover Reveal: Infernal Hope

At last! Here’s the cover for the last book in the Love Songs for Lost Worlds trilogy, Infernal Hope! This lovely cover is by Aspen Rayne.

I’ve enjoyed writing this M/M fantasy/ PNR series so much and can’t wait to share Frank and Kasimir’s final adventure with the world. Although the first two books, Know Thy Demons and With Good Intentions ended on cliff hangers, this book gives the sweet demon and the ex-Necromancer the HEA they so richly deserve. Like so many of us, they had to work for it. They had to earn it. I hope readers enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed giving it to them.

It will be on pre-order from Amazon in April, and will be actually releasing May 3, 2021. Expect lots of action, heat, and heart.

Cover Reveal: Know Thy Demons

Here’s the cover for my upcoming release, Know Thy Demons, a steamy gay paranormal romance. The cover is by CJ Douglass. It features Kasimir, a demon whose feathered wings make him the object of his father’s ridicule.

Know Thy Demons will be available on Amazon August 24th!