What to do. What to do? What to do!
So, it has recently penetrated my ever so stubborn brain, that I might be writing in the wrong genre. Now, I am not saying that I would ever leave the romance or erotic-romance genre... I love it there. BUT... it appears the taste buds of the world are ravenous for well written m/m romances (erotic or otherwise). Up to now all my babies have been very hetero, of course 'Boundaries' has the added element of interracial threesome... but still hetero. The newest one, 'Cuban Matings' which is slotted to be released on October 1st has a delightfully flamboyant gay man in it and he does get his moment (or two) in the spot light. Many thanks to my friend DJ Manley for the boost in confidence with my first m/m love scene. But the main character is Max's bestest best, Anna.... very straight! Should I have put these two in the same story? Will readers accept m/m and m/f on the same pages? Does anyone really care?
Write what you know! I have... I do! I will... as I have lived in many a haunted house and have been surrounded with superstitions, apparitions and a love for anything vampirish my whole life, my newest WIP is a sexy vampire tale. You guessed it.... hetero!
Write what sells! What sells right now it seems is m/m. Can I simply switch? Could I do it justice? Yes I have gay and lesbian friends on the Internet and in my everyday 'real' life and see their love lives in the same context as any one else's... beautiful roller coasters of emotion. But, do I jump on the band wagon and write a tale of two men? Could I bring the same sensuality to that relationship that I strive to give to all my man and woman couples? Do I make this leap of faith under my own name and hope that any who have actually read my work (are there really any out there?) will follow and accept this change up?
I am so confused. I write because I absolutely love the idea that my words, which begin as floating little tickles in my brain, can go out into the world and entertain someone, make them smile, laugh or cry. But.... making a little bit of money from my beloved craft would be nice too. M/M is selling like hotcakes right now! Do I try for my slice of that pie or do I quietly continue icing my hetero cake and wait for those faithful few to come and sneak the crumbs?
A well written story is a well written story... does it really matter the gender of the lovers? Apparently it does. Oh, what to do! I'll try to let you know how this works out.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Bar-b-qued Coffee
Okay, so Sunday morning I popped out of bed at a little before 7 and looked outside with amazement. Everything within sight was blanketed in ghostly white mist. We could see the actual movement of the air as the fog billowed and rolled down the street. Add to this the fact that at sometime through the night our township's hydro went down. So we had a very foggy blackout. Really rather eerie when you think about it.
But was that where my mind went? Heck no! It immediately flew to the fact that without hydro, how on earth was I going to make coffee... and how would we stay cool in the 32 degree Celsius (43 with the humidex) day ahead of us?
Well, first things first. I plopped the kettle onto the bar-b-que. No, not on the grill... ours has a very convenient burner off to the side. It blackened the outside of the kettle, but the water boiled perfectly and we had our coffee! YAY!!!
An hour later our eldest showed up with her hubby and son. On went the kettle again and we enjoyed our coffee while watching the fog continue it's speedy retreat. Thoughts of how to survive the heat and humidity flitted through our minds until Charity came up with the perfect solution.
We packed a cooler full of cold drinks, sandwiches, fruits, and other assorted yummies and headed to Port Burwell. Lake Erie welcomed us with amazing white crested waves, scorching sand and an endless blue sky. Clearly many others had the same idea as us, but we were able to find a relatively quiet spot for our blankets and settled in for the day.
(Now, when Charity tells this next part of the story she makes it sound much worse than it actually was. I stand firmly on my standpoint that I did not in fact sit there and let her nearly drown.) We had two blow up pool chairs that have holes at the foot area. We had spent ages towing them out as far as we dared and letting the waves push, drag and roll us back to the shore. We had done this so many times positioned head to toe, with our arms linked through the foot holes that our arms were exhausted. I had the brilliant idea that if we overlapped the foot holes we could both stick our feet through and would be lock together and save out arms. It worked perfectly... until one enormous wave crashed over us and sent Charity tumbling into the drink. Keep in mind that her feet were tucked into the hole locking us together. when she flew off the chair, one foot slipped out but the other stayed firmly in place with the plastic wrapped tightly around her ankle and mine. From my position on my chair I tugged, twisted and struggled with the clinging plastic as wave after wave rocked us. Charity bobbed up and down, beside and beneath the flailing chair. I knew if I let myself tumble in with her, we would both be stuck.
Charity's yelling went like this..."Mom...blub blub blub. I'm stuck... blub blub blub. Help... blub blub blub. I can't get out... blub blub blub."
My yelling... "I know, I'm trying. Stay still. I don't know what to do!" Of course the whole time I was laughing hysterically, because a) I was panicking and b) it was funny. Eventually we both calmed down enough that I was able to pull my foot out which released hers and she was able to stand and look at me with and expression of absolute disbelief. "I don't know what to do? This is what you say when your child is drowning?"
"Sorry honey. I really am sorry. I am so sorry." Of course I was still laughing so hard all she could think to do was tip me off my chair.
Maybe I really do deserve that certificate she gave me for mother's day when she was six. It claims that I am indeed the worst mommy in the world. But... she still loves me.
But was that where my mind went? Heck no! It immediately flew to the fact that without hydro, how on earth was I going to make coffee... and how would we stay cool in the 32 degree Celsius (43 with the humidex) day ahead of us?
Well, first things first. I plopped the kettle onto the bar-b-que. No, not on the grill... ours has a very convenient burner off to the side. It blackened the outside of the kettle, but the water boiled perfectly and we had our coffee! YAY!!!
An hour later our eldest showed up with her hubby and son. On went the kettle again and we enjoyed our coffee while watching the fog continue it's speedy retreat. Thoughts of how to survive the heat and humidity flitted through our minds until Charity came up with the perfect solution.
We packed a cooler full of cold drinks, sandwiches, fruits, and other assorted yummies and headed to Port Burwell. Lake Erie welcomed us with amazing white crested waves, scorching sand and an endless blue sky. Clearly many others had the same idea as us, but we were able to find a relatively quiet spot for our blankets and settled in for the day.
(Now, when Charity tells this next part of the story she makes it sound much worse than it actually was. I stand firmly on my standpoint that I did not in fact sit there and let her nearly drown.) We had two blow up pool chairs that have holes at the foot area. We had spent ages towing them out as far as we dared and letting the waves push, drag and roll us back to the shore. We had done this so many times positioned head to toe, with our arms linked through the foot holes that our arms were exhausted. I had the brilliant idea that if we overlapped the foot holes we could both stick our feet through and would be lock together and save out arms. It worked perfectly... until one enormous wave crashed over us and sent Charity tumbling into the drink. Keep in mind that her feet were tucked into the hole locking us together. when she flew off the chair, one foot slipped out but the other stayed firmly in place with the plastic wrapped tightly around her ankle and mine. From my position on my chair I tugged, twisted and struggled with the clinging plastic as wave after wave rocked us. Charity bobbed up and down, beside and beneath the flailing chair. I knew if I let myself tumble in with her, we would both be stuck.
Charity's yelling went like this..."Mom...blub blub blub. I'm stuck... blub blub blub. Help... blub blub blub. I can't get out... blub blub blub."
My yelling... "I know, I'm trying. Stay still. I don't know what to do!" Of course the whole time I was laughing hysterically, because a) I was panicking and b) it was funny. Eventually we both calmed down enough that I was able to pull my foot out which released hers and she was able to stand and look at me with and expression of absolute disbelief. "I don't know what to do? This is what you say when your child is drowning?"
"Sorry honey. I really am sorry. I am so sorry." Of course I was still laughing so hard all she could think to do was tip me off my chair.
Maybe I really do deserve that certificate she gave me for mother's day when she was six. It claims that I am indeed the worst mommy in the world. But... she still loves me.
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