Origin Story

Basic rule of blogging: if you can’t come up with a topic, write a flash. Today’s post is a bridge scene between the end of my M/M/F ménage, Legacy, and my YA spinoff Slayer for Hire, as the hero of Slayer makes his first-ever appearance.

# # #

“Here we go,” Annie said. “Show time.”

“About damn time,” Colleen growled. She knew her full attention should have been focused on birthing her third child, but she found her awareness split between her contractions and the window, and the soon-to-rise sun beyond it. Babies came when they came, with no regard for arbitrary adult schedules. Least of all a vampire’s.

Wallace crowded against the narrow bed, both his hands gripping one of Colleen’s. Like her, he nervously watched the window as well as her efforts. Colleen was only half vampire and could withstand the sun, but its rays meant death for him. Nevertheless she knew he’d risk it to stay by her side until their child entered the world. The stubborn bastard.

Del had been a daylight baby too. Wallace had toughed it out, swaddled in a hooded robe and dark glasses, until he could hold their newborn son in his arms. Dina had been more accommodating; she’d arrived in the dead of night, daddy’s girl from the start. This one seemed intent on making his debut with the dawn, and it looked like his intentions were going to trump his parents’.

Colleen bore down with all her impressive vampire strength. Still the little prick refused to come out. Oh great, yet another hard-headed addition to the flock. Didn’t they have enough of those already?

As always, Jeremy took quick action to protect his beloved vampires. He pried Colleen’s other hand from around his wrist and went to the window to draw the blinds and curtains. On his return route he detoured to the bedroom closet for an extra blanket, which he handed to Wallace. “Wrap yourself in this. I think that window faces north anyway, but no point in taking chances. Annie?”

“North or northwest, I’m not sure,” Annie said from between Colleen’s legs. “C’mon, sonny boy, you’re holding up the show. Not to mention your daddy’s bedtime.”

“You’re not sure?” Wallace squeaked. “It’s your house.”

“You could have done this at your place, y’know. I’ve brought babies into the world in stranger places than a vampire’s lair.”

“I didn’t tell my water to break in the middle of dinner,” Colleen snapped. Her hand clamped around Wallace’s. “Sorry. I thought I had at least two weeks to go. And now, after all this, the little shit doesn’t want to come out after all.”

“Can’t blame him there,” Wallace said. “I like to stay buried inside you too.”

Jeremy grinned. “Same here.”

Colleen squeezed both their hands. Wallace, with his superhuman strength, took her grip in stride. “Ow!” human Jeremy yelped. “What are you punishing me for? I’m not the one who got you pregnant.”

“It’s not punishment,” Colleen gasped between pants. “He must have heard you. He’s on his way.”

The baby crowned just as the sun rose. Wallace snarled at the window, but didn’t budge from her bedside. Jeremy angled his body to block any stray rays of sunlight from Wallace.

“Atta girl,” Annie said. “One more push—”

After all the contractions, the bother and the drama, the baby arrived just like his siblings, quickly and with very little pain. The advantages of a half-vampiric physiology. Annie cut the cord with expert precision. Colleen expelled the afterbirth with a tiny grunt. Wallace grunted too, as the smell of fresh hot blood attacked his nostrils. “You okay?” Jeremy said.

“I’m good.” Wallace rubbed his nose. “How about you, sweetheart?”

Colleen struggled upright, already reaching out. “How’s the baby?”

“Fine and dandy,” Annie said. “You’ve got yourself another healthy boy. How much vampire? Too soon to say. We’ll know more when his teeth come in.” She brought the baby, now cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, over to the bed. “Here you go, pardner. Say howdy to your mom and dad.”

Colleen took the baby and cradled him close. He wriggled against her, curious, already trying to smile. Such a perfect little thing. Big dark eyes and little wiggly fingers and toes and features that could have been anybody’s. Both Del and Dina favored their father. She wondered if their newest brother would follow suit.

But something was off, just a hair. He didn’t smell the same as Del and Dina had when they’d been born. Colleen fought a surge of alarm. It wasn’t a wrong or sick odor, just different. More like … she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She turned to Wallace and noticed his nostrils working. He’d picked up on it too. His elated smile dimmed for a second before it shifted into another direction.

Attuned to them both, Jeremy asked worriedly, “Was is it? What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Wallace said with an odd half-grin. “You want to hold him, scarecrow?”

“His father should take a turn first.”

“Exactly.” Wallace’s grin widened until his fangs showed, but not in a threatening way. “I don’t know how you pulled it off, scarecrow, but this one’s yours.”

“What?” Jeremy stared down at the baby in Colleen’s protective arms, then up at Wallace. “No.”

“This says yes.” Wallace tapped his nose, still grinning like a manic jack o’lantern. “His scent’s too human. Del and Dina’s blood smelled like mine. His doesn’t. Congratulations, scarecrow. You’re a daddy.”

“But—no. How did that happen?”

“You don’t know?” Annie said. “Here’s how it works. The man sticks his poker up the lady’s chimney, and nine months later a baby shows up. Stop me if the terms get too technical.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I meant, he can’t be mine. I’m human. I can’t get Colleen pregnant. Colleen, tell them.”

“He’s right.” Colleen tenderly brushed the dark fuzz on her new son’s perfect little head, drinking in his scent. “Wallace is right. That’s what’s different about him.” She looked up at Jeremy, smiling. “He smells just like you.”

“Good, strong heartbeat,” Wallace added. “More times a minute than the other two. Look at you.” Wallace chuckled and tweaked a fold of the baby’s blanket. “Snuggled up in your mama’s arms like you never want to leave. That how you got here?”

Annie speared a look at Jeremy. “You two weren’t using protection?”

“I didn’t think we needed to,” Jeremy said testily. “Colleen was genetically designed to breed vampire children. She can’t have babies with humans.”

“You’ve been taking doses of my blood,” Colleen pointed out. “Wallace’s too. Maybe it was enough.”

“That and the non-stop sex,” Wallace said. “You two go at it like rabbits while I’m asleep. I can smell you all over the house. Looks like you got the ammo, Fertile Freddy. Maybe I should start using protection.”

“Stop it,” Jeremy snarled. “Just—”

The baby gurgled and yawned. Jeremy automatically glanced down. The look of longing, of hope that flashed across his face nearly broke Colleen’s heart.

Annie came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “There are ways to check,” she said. “I know discrete people. The kind who won’t ask questions if something funny pops up in the baby’s DNA.”

“Or we can just wait about fifteen years,” Wallace said. “When he shoots up to seven feet tall, we’ll know for sure.”

“You really think it’s possible?” Jeremy asked softly. “You’re not angry?”

Wallace leaned across the bed, Colleen and the newborn to catch Jeremy by the back of the head and draw him in for a powerful kiss. “How could I be angry? This is the life I wanted for you. Fussing over your girl and your kid instead of over a cranky bat. C’mon, I’ve seen how you are with our kids. If ever a man was born to be a mom, it’s you.”

Colleen pressed Jeremy’s hand. “Would you like to hold your son?”

Jeremy didn’t move, so Annie accepted the baby from Colleen and handed him to his father. Jeremy’s hands shook. It wasn’t nervousness. He’d had plenty of experience with her and Wallace’s children. Maybe more; their children were active in daylight. She knew what brought on the trembling. Her own emotions trembled as she watched one of the two men she adored fall head over heels for the tiny life he now held in his arms.

“Any ideas for a name?” Annie asked. “Or would you rather wait a little bit and let it all sink in?”

“Colleen and I had a few ideas,” Wallace said. “Back when we thought I was the one who hit the moving target.”

“We’re not calling him Ghidrah,” Colleen said firmly. “And I’m not letting you watch those movies any more. What about Matthew?” she added to Jeremy. “Wasn’t that your father’s name?”

“Um?” Jeremy stirred briefly out of his fatherhood trance. “I don’t even remember my father.”

Wallace snickered. “Bet you remember this.”

“I doubt if I’ll ever forget.” He smiled down at the baby. The baby sort of smiled back. “Hey, Matt. Welcome to the flock.”

“And on that note,” Annie said, “Mommy needs a break. Scoot, fellahs. We’ll take it from here.”

“I’m staying,” Jeremy announced. “Until Colleen kicks me out.”

“But I can’t,” Wallace said. He winced in the direction of the window. With a sigh of a growl he kissed Colleen, then Jeremy, then the baby, and finally Annie. “Gotta go. See you folks tonight.”

But he didn’t leave, not at once. He paused in the bedroom doorway. Jeremy perched on the edge of the bed, one arm around Colleen, the other around their child. All three looked so beautiful, so happy. So alive.

The vampire’s heart beat. Just for a minute, a series of powerful thumps. Then he wrenched himself away and sped downstairs, to the windowless room in the basement that would protect him until nightfall, when he could rejoin his family.

# # #

For the rest of the story, both the threesome’s and Matt’s, check out my page on Amazon (www.amazon.com/Pat-Cunningham/e/B005EMOBF4/ref=sr_tc_ep?qid=1311881989). There’s other stuff on there too, like shapeshifters and gay superheroes. Something for everyone.

The Book I Won't Be Writing

I didn’t mean to write a series. Belonging was supposed to be a stand-alone. However, my sequelitis kicked in, and before you know it, there was Legacy. That book sparked my spin-off, the upcoming Slayer for Hire, involving my threesome’s children. Preacher’s book is sitting in limbo right now, waiting for the plot to gel, and I’ve got an idea involving Wallace’s daughter Dina, who co-stars in Slayer for Hire.

I suppose these two books will get written eventually. I love the characters, and the ideas just keep coming. I can’t let go of them yet. I want to keep it going. As long as I keep coming up with plots and publishers keep showing interest, I suppose I can squeeze another couple stories out of these people.

But there’s one story I don’t think I could write, even though I recently figured out a way to give it an HEA. That’s the wrap-up, the grand finale. For lack of a better word, the end.

There’s a huge elephant in this family’s room, one they (and I) have been trying not to deal with. There’s Wallace the vampire, his human lover Jeremy, their half-vampire lover Colleen, and the kids. So far, so good. Here’s the problem: everybody except Wallace is mortal, or partially mortal. Nobody wants to be turned. They’re content with their mortality and everything it means.

What it means is, Wallace’s family—his partners, his children, everyone he loves—will eventually grow old and die. Sooner or later, inevitably, even the kids will be gone, and immortal Wallace will have to go on without them. The only ending I could imagine involved Wallace walking into the sunlight. That’s something I, as these people’s “mother,” just don’t want to face.

Luckily for me, though not necessarily for one of the other characters, my subconscious couldn’t take it either and came up with a workable solution. It involves someone we haven’t seen for awhile: Shayla, the adopted daughter of Gus and Annie Stanton.

Don’t get your squick in an uproar. Shayla’s not the five-year-old we last saw in Legacy. At least 25 years have passed since then (Jeremy’s son Matt is 22 in Slayer, and he has two older siblings). She’s had a full life in the interim, with relationships and jobs and possibly a failed marriage that didn’t produce any children (the reason why it failed?). She comes back to California to reconnect with her family, and walks right into peril.

At one point in the long-lost past, Gus and Annie were slayers. A vampire from that era returns to exact his revenge. However, since vampires don’t age, they don’t always have a firm grasp on the passage of time. This one finally gets his vengeful ass in gear 50 years too late. Natural causes have already done the job for him. Well, the vamp decides, if he can’t kill the slayers, he’ll replace the flock they staked, his family, with their family. He targets the Stantons’ children and grandchildren, starting with Shayla.

Wallace’s retaliation comes too late. The vampire’s already turned her.

Now Shayla’s joined the undead. There’s no cure. All Wallace and his family can do is take her in, and teach her how to be a vampire. Over the course of the following weeks, as Wallace and Shayla share vampire hunting and blood on the nighttime streets of Los Angeles, the inevitable happens.

It’s not as icky as it sounds. Like I said, this Shayla is a grown woman. She’s roughly the same age Wallace was when he got turned. She knows about her parents’ former vocation. She’s known for years Wallace is a vampire (his failure to age was a dead giveaway). She knows he’s the one who saved her from vampires when she was a child. She even had a crush on him in her teens, though nothing ever came of it. She grew up, left California, had a life, and came back. Now she’s undead and falling in love with a man she’s always admired. Wallace has always been fond of her too, and that fondness quickly grows.

So the threesome becomes a foursome, at least emotionally. (Adult or not, no way Jeremy’s sleeping with someone he remembers as the little girl he used to sing to sleep.) Colleen and Jeremy are good with it, even relieved. Now they can grow old together without guilt, knowing Wallace will have someone to look after him when their time finally comes. The new couple might even find a pretty young man they can share, and start the flock over again.

That’s my happy ending, but I don’t think I can write it. It’s enough for me to know I’m leaving Wallace and his family in a good place. There’s also the time factor to think about. I was able to fudge it with Slayer because it’s a different genre appearing under another publisher. There’s a 25-year gap between Legacy and Slayer, yet both appear to take place in the current now. Somebody’s bound to notice. Either that, or Matt and his siblings were born and matured within the space of a couple years. I know they did that in the final Twilight book, but I try to stay away from Twilight plots.

Maybe I can write the book, stick it in the closet for 10 to 15 years, then shop it around and hope the new generation of readers isn’t swift on math. Or just direct the curious to this blog. That’ll reassure any concerned readers, and save me a lot of time. Life goes on, even for vampires, especially when their creators are willing to twist time, space and logic to guarantee they get their HEA. I wish real life could be manipulated that easily. I’d be a whole lot richer and a whole lot thinner. Wouldn’t we all?

John Fogerty: A Cautionary Tale

Lately I find myself considering the case of John Fogerty. For those of you who weren’t born in the Middle Ages, Fogerty was a co-founder of Creedence Clearwater Revival, one of those oddly-named ‘60s bands your parents used to listen to (Strawberry Alarm Clock, anyone?). They had a slew of hits like “Proud Mary” and "Green River" and “Down on the Corner” and other songs with the words “swamp” and “bayou” in them. If you see the initials CCR, that’s who we’re talking about.

Anyway, the band had about five-six years of success, then broke up in the ‘70s. John moved on to a solo career. As happens with a lot of bands desperate for money, the rights to CCR’s songs, most of them written by John, were sold to someone else. And there’s where the fun begins.

John, in the course of his solo career, wrote a song called “The Old Man Down the Road.” The new owners of the CCR catalogue thought it sounded far too similar to “Run Through the Jungle”—also written by John. So they sued. Mr. Fogerty found himself in court, accused to plagiarizing himself.

What does this have to do with writing? Glad you asked. That YA book I’ve been blogging about grew out of two published novels, a M/M and its follow-up, a M/M/F. That’s a human man, a male vampire, and a vampire/human woman. I got wondering what their kids would be like, so I wrote about it. There’s where the problem enters in. Technically it’s a sequel of sorts to my published books. Maybe “spinoff” is more accurate.

At any rate, I’ve got this paragraph in my contract with my publisher. I understand it’s standard in most contracts. “B. If AUTHOR writes another WORK that is a sequel to the WORK covered in this contract, using an identical theme and/or major characters from the contracted WORK, PUBLISHER retains a right of first refusal for the subsequent WORK. If PUBLISHER does not accept for publication this additional WORK within ninety (90) days of submission, it will be considered refused and AUTHOR will be free to market rights to the new work without encumbrance.”

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem. Having related (by characters or theme) books all come out from the same publisher makes sense from a marketing standpoint. If readers like one of the books, they know right where to go for the others. My problem is, I jumped genres. The first two books were erotic romances. The continuation is YA with no sex and a plot not focused on romance. It’s intended for a wholly different audience and age group. You don’t need to read the other two to understand what’s going on in the third. In fact, if you’re under 18, I’d rather you didn’t.

However, under the terms of my contract, does my current publisher (who doesn’t publish YA) have a claim on it? If I try to market it to YA publishers, am I in violation of contract? Am I in danger of becoming John Fogerty?

Fortunately this was easily resolved. I emailed the publisher and explained the situation. They agreed it wasn’t their cup of tea, in spite of its origins. The new book is intended for a different age group and audience, so there’s no conflict of interest. I’m free to market it to YA publishers, where it belongs.

Now, if I ever write the other sequel, the one about the secondary character from the other books, that’ll be a whole different situation. That one is a romance, possibly a steamy one, and even though it’s M/F it’s something that company publishes, and it’s using characters and themes taken directly from the previous books, and major characters from the first two make cameo appearances. In that case, right of first refusal would definitely kick in. I have no problem with that.

The moral of the story is, just because you created something doesn’t mean you’ll end up owning it. The minute contracts come into play and money changes hands it’s a whole new ballgame. In fact, the second there’s profit to be made is when the fun begins. Read those contracts carefully, have a lawyer go over them if necessary, and be careful what you’re selling and what rights you’re signing away. Both Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster have passed on, but I think their estates’ lawsuit against DC comics is still going on. (They sold all rights to Superman back in the ‘40s, I think. It was a comic book character. Who knew?)

Maybe I should have asked Paul McCartney to write this blog. He’d know what I’m talking about.

Okay, enough with the legal crap. Gotta write something no publisher has a stake in yet. I think I’ll listen to my “Best of CCR” album. On vinyl. Middle Ages, remember.

My Favorite Vampire

Thanks to Hurricane Sandy’s multi-day trip through the Northeast, I was able to spend half a week indoors typing up my longhand young adult manuscript (see blogs from September 6 and October 11). It looks like it’s going to come out to around 60,000 words, more or less, depending on how much I cut and how much I add in the final draft. I thought it would top out in the 45K range, so the length was a bit of a surprise.

I’m surprised I’m still writing about vampires. I thought my writing career would consist of lots of werewolf and shapeshifter sex. I’ve always been a dog person, so liking werewolves comes naturally. The vampire storyline kind of snuck up on me and bit me, and now I’m stuck chronicling this particular flock’s adventures.

I do have a favorite vampire. It’s not Count Chocula. I put him in for the humor. I do like chocolate, though. Maybe if he brought me chocolates I’d go out with him. We could go to Hersheypark. How do you stake this guy? With a swizzle stick from your hot chocolate? I’m not sure how it works with cartoons.

It’s not Edward Cullin. I read Twilight just to see what all the fuss was about. I can see why 14-year-old girls are enamored of him. I haven’t been 14 in quite a while, so I wasn’t impressed. He’s a bit of a wuss. I’ve only seen snatches of the

movies on TV, and then I tend to get distracted by Taylor Lautner’s chest. In fact, screw Edward. Here’s Jacob. Told you I prefer werewolves.

It’s not Louis and Lestat. Louis is whiny and angsty and Lestat is a twit. I blame Anne Rice for all the wimpy, emo vampires we’ve been subjected to over the last twenty years. I’ll bet Louis and Edward are drinking buddies and get together regularly to bitch to each other. At least Louis isn’t dating a high schooler. He just hangs out with the five-year-old little girl vampire. This all gets ickier the longer I think about it. Technically, I suppose all vampires are pedophiles. Given their ages, it’s not like they have a choice. As George Burns once said, “I’d date women my age, but there are no women my age.”

It’s not Barnabas Collins, though I do have a fondness for him. I was one of those kids who ran home from school to watch the original Dark Shadows. Barnabas was my first encounter with a sympathetic vampire character. However, I wasn’t watching the show for him. I was watching for Quentin Collins, the uber-sexy werewolf. Dog person, remember?

It’s not Batman. Batman’s not a vampire. Batman is my choice for “superhero I’d most want watching my back if I ever got into a jam.” I can’t picture Edward, Louis or Lestat earning the respect of the entire Justice League while having no superpowers. Take that, creatures of the night.

It’s not even Wallace, my own vampire creation, even though in my mind he looks like

Jensen Ackles. Maybe that’s because I’m a Sam girl. Wonder if Jared Padalecki ever played a werewolf?

So who’s my favorite vampire? Is there any doubt?

SPIKE!!!!

This is what vampires are supposed to be. Bloodsucking bad boys in leather and bleached hair with an accent to melt your knees. What the hell was Buffy doing with that wussified Angel when she could have had this? Spike could mop the floor with all those other posers combined and take you out for a drink afterwards. You might be the drink, but who cares?

Closing the gap to second place: Damon Salvatore, Spike’s dark brother from another mother. He’s making vampires fun again. Gotta love those intense eyes. They make up for the lack of accent. I can easily picture Spike and Damon arm-wrestling in a bar over who gets to bang and then suck on the waitress. I need to check out the fan fiction sites. Somebody’s sure to have written that. Some series demand a crossover.

Once the YA’s done and out of the house, I’m going back to shapeshifters for a while. At the moment the frontrunner stars a mountain lion who looks like Brendan Fraser. My Favorite Mummy? I don’t think so …

Taking the Easy Way Out

Rather than strain my brain coming up with an original blog, today I’ve decided to post a scene from my WIP. In short, I’m taking the day off. Ain’t I a stinker?

The lead-in: Waitress Billie has a major fangirl crush on Dylan, the star of her favorite TV show, Slayer for Hire (coincidentally also the title of the book). However, when the show comes to film in her hometown, she finds herself falling for Dylan’s co-star, Matt (shown above). Meanwhile, Dylan’s being stalked by an actual vampire, and Billie’s also a target. Matt, who comes from a family of slayers, stops by Billie’s apartment to guard her. We pick up as they’re discussing higher education …

“It’s okay if you didn’t go to college,” Matt said. “I didn’t, and it worked out fine for me.” He leaned toward me to whisper, “I’ve been taking courses at USC when I can fit them in. I want to surprise my dad with a diploma. Maybe in about ten years, at the rate I’m going.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been taking online courses. I’ve got a jar full of tip money set aside for it. Pay as you go.”

“What are you studying?”

“Fashion design. I could go to New York for school if I wanted. My dad’s offered to pay for the first year, at least.” Yeah, I could do that. Why hadn’t I?

“You know how to sew?” He sounded impressed.

“Uh-huh. My Gram taught me.” I hopped up and went to the kitchen table. It meant leaving the heavenly circle of his arm, but it also meant a change of subject. I grabbed at that. I could grab the arm later.

Matt got up and joined me at the table. He whistled as I paged through the sketch book. “These are good. Have you actually made any of them?”

“Some. I sewed my own prom dress,” I added proudly. “For $45. People thought I’d sent to New York for it. I’d show it to you, but I don’t have it any more. Some twit at the prom spilled punch on it.” Cough Ava cough.

“Was this it?”

Oh God. Wouldn’t you know, I’d stopped at the sketch of the princess gown, the one I’d made the color of his eyes. Don’t notice don’t notice don’t notice, I prayed.

“Maya would love that,” Matt went on. “Add another layer of ruffles and she’d be your fan forever.”

“Maya, your sister? The wannabe football player?”

“When she’s off the field, she turns uber-girlie. What’s this one?”

He picked up the pad labeled “Costumes” before I could stop him. I dropped mine and grabbed at it frantically. “That’s nothing. Discarded ideas. It’s—”

Too late. He flipped the cover open. My interpretation of Dylan Garber as Jesse Pierce leaped out at both of us. The clothes I’d drawn to dress him in were way tighter than what he wore on the show. Especially in the crotch and butt. Yes, I’d done front and back views.

“Good likeness,” Matt said, his voice neutral. Was that a hint of red in his eyes?

“Jesse Pierce needs a new outfit,” I said weakly. I tugged on the sketchpad but he wouldn’t give it up. He went on flipping through the book. Page after page of Dylan, Dylan, and nothing but Dylan, in various outfits and assorted weaponry. “He wears the same thing week after week. He should mix it up. You know, scarves and turtlenecks or something, to protect his throat.”

Matt grunted. He went on flipping, and I went on tugging. My blatant Dylan obsession wasn’t the worst thing in there. I had to get it away from him before he found it.

He turned the last page to my most recent drawing, and stopped there.

Shit.

There stood Emmett Land in full-color glory, a lot straighter and more heroic than he appeared on TV, holding a crossbow and glaring out at the viewer with Matt’s handsome face and stormy blue-gray eyes.

Naked.

Even with the crossbow held at a strategic angle and the big, thick bolt obscuring his youknow, there was no getting around it. He wasn’t just nude. He was nuuuuuuuuuude.

Matt’s brows shot up into his hair.

“Emmett could do with a makeover too.” My voice cracked into shrill little pieces.

“Nice,” Matt said, “but a bit too minimalist for TV.”

# # #

And now, the book’s only sex scene, in its entirety: “If this is the part you’ve all been waiting for, too bad. I’m not the kind of girl who kisses or does anything else and tells. Let’s just say Matt missed his flight and let it go at that.” Enjoy.

Uncharted Territory

The best-laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley, or so the saying goes. We can add writers to the list. We can definitely add this writer, because my twisty mind took another turn down a bumpy side road, and now I’m dealing with the consequences.

A couple weeks ago I explained how I ended up as a writer of M/M romances: by accident. I had ideas and ran with them, and happily it paid off. I also suffer from a bad case of sequelitis. One idea sparks others, and next thing you know I’m writing a series. It’s how I wound up writing my first ménage, something else I’d never done before. The ménage sparked an idea for a second sequel, which I swear I’ll get to eventually.

Then the ménage fooled me by sparking—well, I can’t exactly call it a sequel. Let’s call it a follow-up. It’s an outgrowth of the first two books, but with different characters … and in a whole other genre.

Suddenly I find myself contemplating the creation of a young adult novel.

It’s like this. At the end of Legacy, human Jeremy, vampire Wallace, and human/vamp hybrid Colleen have formed a household. In the last chapter, we learn Colleen is pregnant. She and Wally will soon be proud parents, with equally-proud co-parent Jeremy helping out as the nanny. HEA, over and done with, on to the next book idea.

Except … I couldn’t let go of the characters. Colleen wanted a lot of kids, and she was sleeping with both the men. I decided they ended up with four kids. Kid #3, a son, is Jeremy’s. He grows up to look just like his dad, height and all. In high school he falls in love with the Drama Club. Instead of going to college he gets his first role and goes into acting. He ends up on the cult-hit TV show Slayer for Hire, about two guys who travel around the country killing monsters. Yes, I’m still milking That Show.

Then I got ideas for a plot and characters, and now I’m writing the thing.

It’s not erotica. It’s not even a romance, though it has romantic elements. The girl’s 19, the boy’s 22. There’s no sex. They hug and kiss a bit. It’s a lighthearted romp, in spite of the vampires and a couple of grisly murders. Right now it looks like the overarching theme involves rabid fangirls, fantasy versus reality, and the dangers of getting too caught up in a TV show. Might as well write what I know.

I figure it’ll work best as YA, given the ages of the leads, and the girl’s struggle with figuring out her place in the new-to-her, confusing world of responsible adulthood. This means I’ll have to learn a whole genre’s worth of new rules. Brain, what have you gotten me into this time?

I’m not sure where or how it’ll go. I’ve only got the first half plotted. I’ve figured out who kills the bad guy vampire, and how. Foreshadowing is fun. I suppose if I finish it and do try to market it, I’d better ask Siren’s permission first, because of that one paragraph in the contracts. It’s not a direct sequel, but it does use concepts and characters from books Siren published, even if they’re only alluded to. I figure on using my P. E. Cunningham byline for this, the one I keep for my SF and fantasy work as opposed to the romance books, or maybe come up with a new one. I’ve heard some YA authors are using grown-up versions of their characters to write erotica works and cash in on that market. I don’t think anyone’s ever gone in the other direction. I doubt if the Belonging and Legacy readers would be interested in YA. I know I’d rather not have any teen readers looking at my source material.

That’s where I stand right now, mired hip-deep in a whole new genre and trying to write myself free. Well, it’s always good for personal growth to try new things. That’s how I ended up writing romance, paranormal and M/M. Maybe I’ll finally learn how to draw and go into comic books next. It never ends …

Why Guy?

I didn’t deliberately set out to become a writer of M/M paranormal romance fiction. When the grade-school teachers asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up, I didn’t stand in front of the class and announce, “I want to write stories about two or more hawt men falling in love with each other, complete with explicit sex.” (Imagine if I had, though. I’d probably still be in detention.)

I ended up in this subgenre the way I ended up in a lot of my day jobs, and the same way I ended up as a romance writer in general: I just kind of fell into it. I always wanted to be a writer—that much was a deliberate choice—but I always thought I’d make my name in science fiction and fantasy. Somehow I drifted into romance, specifically paranormal romance. It was the same thing I’d been writing, just with hot bits.

Many people believe the whole M/M genre grew out of slash fan fiction, which began with Kirk/Spock back in the 1970s. Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover series contains elements of M/M, F/F and ménage in a science fantasy setting. The leap from one genre to the other wasn’t that wide of a jump.

However, I started with traditional M/F, or as traditional as that gets with werewolves and vampires involved. My slide into same-sex debauchery began with a publisher’s call for novellas involving angels and/or demons. I came up with an idea of a demon and an angel competing for a human woman. Except, as the plot moved along, they became less interested in the woman and more and more drawn to each other. Oops. Oh well, what the hell. And that’s how Bad Boys came to be, and how I wrote my first M/M.

Not that I planned on making M/M my career choice. I’d had an idea, I had fun writing it, now we move on to the next. “The next” turned out to be Belonging. The inciting idea was basically “a brothel intended for vampires,” so the leads were a prostitute and the vampire customer she falls in love with. Yes, I did say “she.” That book started life as M/F. Then I discovered Supernatural. Jared and Jensen were just so pretty and had so much on-screen chemistry, they inspired me to give my hooker a sex change. The she became a he, the book became M/M, and I found myself writing in a whole new category.

And it ain’t over yet! I have a list of M/F stories I’d like to get to someday, but I also have a growing list of M/M plots, including an idea for a series. Those dang horny boys just won’t go away.

I think I’ve finally figured out why.

I like men. They’re cute. They’re fun. They can change overhead light bulbs without needing a ladder and open stubborn jars. They may not have much sense, but at least they’re trainable. Then there are the other obvious pluses, which I won’t go into here. We all have our own top-ten lists.

As a writer, it’s my duty to create a male lead a female reader would gladly take home to meet the parents. What do I like in a man? What turns me on? What draws me in? I take all my favorite physical, mental and emotional traits and pour them into one drop-dead-gorgeous man-package. Over and over, I create my ideal mate, my perfect man—

And turn him over to someone else. Some undeserving bitch.

There’s the one big drawback to being a writer of romance. The leads have to fall in love with each other and live happily ever after. Terrific for you two, but what about me? I’m not my heroines. They’re all younger and tougher and prettier and a whole lot thinner than I am. I keep coming up with variations on my perfect boyfriend, then have to watch him ride off into the sunset with another woman, the skanky tramp bimbo whore.

Ah, but then we’ve got M/M. I get to create two perfect men, and I get to keep them. Two drool-worthy, be-still-my-heart hunkalicious males, making out on the page with tender abandon and no rival women in sight. I get my paranormal fix, my romance fix, and my guy fix. Show me the downside to any of that.

I’m not alone in this mindset. There are M/M fans out there who won’t read a ménage if there’s a woman involved. A reviewer who read Legacy expressed initial trepidation because she hadn’t wanted to see a woman come between Wallace and Jeremy. I hadn’t either, but the idea hit and I ran with it. I guess it worked out. It gave me the chance to write about the Preacher, with his smoldering eyes and single-minded intensity. I’ll get to his story eventually. He ends up with another woman. I appear to be addicted to self-punishment.

As you can see, I’m not giving up on M/F entirely. I’m willing to concede some of my female leads are worthy of the men I give them. Fine, Amber/Ashley/Brittany, you can have Todd/Brent/Mitchell. I’m keeping Adam and Donner. They’re werewolves, they’re naked, they’re hungry for each other and they’re mine.

All of a sudden I’m in the mood to reread my favorite Spenser books by Robert B. Parker. Then I can picture Robert Urich and Avery Brooks solving crimes together. I’ll just skip the scenes with Spenser’s girlfriend Susan in them. Those two men … yummy yum yum.

Legacy in Print!

It’s here! My first-ever ménage and sequel to Belonging is now available in print at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. It’s got mystery, action, excitement, two guys making out and a woman joining in, and one of the guys is a vampire. I always try to give my readers their money’s worth.

I realize Kindle and its kin are the wave of the future, but I really, really, really like print. There’s just something immensely satisfying about holding your novel in your hand and seeing your name printed on the cover. It’s so permanent.

In brief: Colleen Brenner is being stalked by vampires. Wallace and Jeremy, the vampire/human couple from Belonging, offer to help her out. Through the twists and turns of the story she falls in love with them both. Who wouldn’t? I liked these guys so much I had to write another book about them. I love this job.

Serena, if you’re here, I haven’t forgotten about Preacher’s story. I’ll get to it eventually, I swear. Right now, though, something from Legacy’s last chapter sparked another idea, and I’m currently fiddling with that. If anything comes of it, you’ll hear about it here.

Legacy is available in print here: www.amazon.com/Legacy-Sequel-Belonging-Publishing-Menage/dp/1622411390/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2e and here: www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-legacy-jere-cunningham/1001059507?ean=9781622411399&itm=1&usri=pat+cunningham

You can also get Belonging in print from Amazon and B&N. If you prefer to live in the 21st century, both are available as e-books from Amazon, B&N, and at www.bookstrand.com/pat-cunningham

EXCERPT

“Oh. Oh God.” Jeremy clutched at Wallace’s arms to maintain his balance. He glanced at the clock on the wall and swore afresh. “Gus will be here any minute, and I don’t even have dinner started.”

“Gus will run late like he always does, and you know he’s not staying for dinner. I’ll bet you’ve got time for a shower.” He slapped Jeremy’s naked ass. “Go on, go make yourself pretty. We’ll hold down the fort.”

“You’re monsters. Both of you.”

“Just the way you want us, you bat-loving slut. We’re always happy to oblige. Right, sweetheart?”

Colleen wiped her mouth to buy time. “I’ll make dinner. I was planning to anyway.”

“You heard the lady. Go get yourself cleaned up.” Wallace smacked a wet kiss on Jeremy’s cheek. “Better hurry, before we muss you up again.”

“I hate you both,” Jeremy said, though with a sated smile that proclaimed just the opposite. He paused to brush Colleen’s tousled hair away from her face before he tugged his briefs and slacks back up over his hips. He stumbled from the kitchen without bothering to zip up. At the doorway he paused. “Nobody touches anything until you wash your hands.”

“Yes, Mom,” Wallace said. Jeremy made a face at him and headed for the stairs.

“I should clean up, too.” Colleen started to scramble off the floor. Wallace caught her arms and lifted her easily and set her on her feet. “Thanks,” she said, with a little too much heartiness. “I left groceries by the front door. I hope you guys like Swedish meatballs.”

“I’ll tell you what I like.”

His mouth attacked hers like a predator. Colleen stiffened involuntarily, instinctively. Wallace didn’t seem to care. He took his time, fully exploring her mouth, all the places Jeremy’s dick had been only minutes ago. He withdrew at last with a half growl, half chuckle.

“You and Scarecrow,” he rumbled. “Two great tastes that taste great together.”

Taste. She had the taste of Jeremy’s blood on her tongue now, stolen from Wallace’s mouth. “I saw what you did,” she said. “You made him drink your blood.”

“I can’t make him do anything. You should know that by now. He only took a gulp or two, same as I did. We do it all the time.”

“You’re turning him into a vampire.”

“No way. I’d have to drain him for that to happen. A sip every now and then won’t hurt him, and he knows it.” He leered at her wickedly. “In fact, it gets him horny. Want to go surprise him in the shower?”

“Don’t you ever quit?”

“Never. When you quit, you die. I’ve been fighting dead for way too long.” He pulled her more tightly against him. His lips teased a line down her cheek to her neck. He made no attempt to bite down. His hand crept under her blouse and found her nipple through the thin barrier of her bra. Colleen gasped and pressed into his caress.

“This is why I keep going back to chicks,” he murmured. “Dicks are a blast, but sometimes I just miss tits.”

“You’re so deep.”

“Don’t get all self-righteous with me, sweetheart. You’re not any different.” He scraped his teeth along her throat while his hand continued to torment her breast.

Colleen knew she ought to be terrified. She’d just seen him bite and drink from Jeremy. Right now, though, terror of him was the furthest thing from her mind. She made no effort to escape, even when he released her breast and transferred his hand to her thigh. His palm slid brazenly inward and upward, stopping just short of the spot that ached the most for his touch.
She tightened her legs to trap his hand. Without meaning to, she growled aloud.

Wallace answered in kind. His finger pressed against her panty-shielded slit. “I know you, sweetheart,” he rumbled against the pulse in her throat. “I’ve been in your head. There’s a predator inside you. She likes to play with fire. You’re as close to a bat as a breather can get. No wonder Scarecrow’s so hot for you.”

The reference to vampires doused the fire Wallace was playing with. She pushed at his chest. “I should get dinner started.”

He caught her arms. “Stay.”

“Gus is coming over. We need to get ready.”

“I meant when this is over. Stay with us—him. Will you stay with him?”

Taken aback by his intensity, Colleen stumbled over her answer. “You mean live here? With both of you?”

“Forget about me for a minute. Think about him. You care about him, right?”

Care sounded so inadequate when she considered her feelings. “It hardly matters, does it? He belongs to you. He loves you.”

“That’s because he’s an asshole. A stupid, stubborn, human son of a bitch.” He looked away from her to the corner where he’d tossed Jeremy’s shirt. “He’s going to die.”

By the Numbers

Every so often I get the urge to punish myself. The other day, out of morbid curiosity, I decided to haul my royalty statements out of the filing cabinet and check my status to date. Maybe the statistics gleaned can help me up my production and maybe put a couple more bucks in my bank account.

I’ll end the suspense right now: I’m not one of the writers earning the Big Bucks. I do not get five- or six-figure royalties. I’ve yet to hit four figures. My sales remain unnervingly comfortable in the three-figure-per-quarter range. In the quarters where I don’t have a new release, that’s low three figures. You might want to consider that before you quit your day job.

Beginning with my first release in 2009, and including numbers from Siren and all listed distributors, here’s how the sales stack up through March 2012:

Coyote Moon (2009, M/F, novella) – 310

Best of Breed (2010, M/F, novella) – 117

A London Werewolf in America (2010, M/F, novel) – 223 (includes print copies)

Bad Boys (2010, M/M, novella) – 374

Belonging (2011, M/M, novella) – 522 (includes print copies)

Legacy – (2012, M/M/F, novel) – 111

Love on the Wild Side (2011, compilation print volume, includes Coyote Moon and Best of Breed) – 8

What can we learn from these numbers? For starters, I don’t write very fast. Unless and until I pick up the pace, I won’t be making a living through writing any time soon. When I do, it had better be M/M. The numbers shout out the story rather loudly: my M/M sells far better than my M/F, both on the Siren site and through secondary markets. Coyote Moon has been out since 2009, and Belonging handily passed it in sales in less than a year. I’m not sure where the ménage stands yet. Legacy’s only been out since March, and I won’t have the numbers from Amazon and elsewhere until I get my next statement.

I’m not sure if having a backlist has increased my sales. I threw everybody off by switching genre horses in midstream. Is there any crossover between the M/F and M/M? Not that I can tell. Legacy might spark additional sales of Belonging, since Legacy’s the sequel. Will those readers then try Bad Boys? You got me. Will they try any of the M/Fs? Probably not.

I must admit, I was surprised Love on the Wild Side sold anything other than the single copy I bought. To the other seven people, thank you and bless you. And the M/Fs may not sell as well as the M/Ms, but they’re steady. Coyote Moon still sells a couple of copies every month. Gas and grocery money. I’ll take it. I’m not proud.

I’ve made several mistakes in my three-year career that I’ll have to fix. There’s the aforementioned genre switch, for starters. People got used to seeing M/F from me, and then I threw man love at them. With my next couple books I’m going to do what I should have in the beginning and write the genres under separate names. At this point I’ll probably have to stick to my real name for M/M and start over in M/F under another name. The ménage was an accident and probably won’t be repeated. Now you know what happens when pantsers try to have careers. Don’t let this happen to you!

I also lost any momentum I’d been building when I took a year between books. Like I said, I’m a slow writer, and Legacy ran far longer than I thought it was going to. Writing shorter stories should help with productivity, and might boost sales: shorter works have lower prices. It’s been recommended you should try to have a new release every quarter. Yeah, good luck with that.

I should probably do more promotion. At the moment I do next to zilch. I announce my new releases, post a few excerpts, then abandon them and move on to the next book. I have this blog, and I’m part of the group over at Shapeshifter Seductions (www.shapeshifterseductions.blogspot.com). I’ve done a couple interviews on others’ blogs. I don’t have a web page, a Facebook account, or Twitter. I have an author’s page on Amazon, which I never update. I’m signed up on a writers’ site but don’t comment in the forums too often. My signature is “professional lurker,” which pretty much explains that. I’m not very social, in media or elsewhere.

Possibly the best thing I could do for my budding career is to get back to the keyboard and turn out more and better books. Let quality speak for itself. Judging by the numbers, I should probably write more M/M novellas about gay vampires. Maybe even a series. Back to caffeine and cable TV …

Crossroad Blues

This should be brief. I wrapped up a draft earlier in the week and am going through the usual post-partum floundering while I decide which of the dozens of stories logjammed in my head wants to get told next. That logjam includes blogs. This is my third attempt to write something of value. I should have just skipped today and run a promo and excerpt for Legacy like I was planning to. Yeah well.

I don’t count this as a block. A block is when I’m writing one particular story and the plot stops dead. Then I can either plow ahead or set it aside and have a go at something else. This isn’t really a block because my WIP isn’t frozen. They all are.

This is more like when you’re driving and you come to a five-way stop sign. The road you’ve been cruising along on abruptly ends. Now you have to decide which way to turn. Each of the five roads you’re presented with will take you to a suitable destination and provide a dollop of interesting sightseeing along the way. So which one do you pick? What if the road hits a dead end? Then you have to backtrack and start over on another road. No one road is any better than the rest, just different. It’s the choosing that’s got me stumped.

In real life, sooner or later some other driver will come up behind me and start blatting the horn. Then I have to pick one and live with my decision. No impatient drivers are sitting behind me with their hands on the horn while I type. I can remain stuck at the stop sign for weeks if some story doesn’t leap up and yell, “Write me!”

Fortunately there’s busywork I can do while waiting for my muse to get off her butt. I can inventory all those false starts and abandoned stories in my dozens of spiral notebooks. I can pull an old manuscript out of the closet and see if it can be salvaged. I have a list of frontrunners I’d like to work on, but need a running start. Maybe if I start half a dozen stories, one will want me to type beyond page two. Or not. Remember the beginning of the month, when I was going to write 3000 words a day and complete a book (or three novellas) by now? That lasted about a week. I finished the longhand draft I’d started in March, then hit this post-project logjam. I started another story and didn’t know where to go with it. I tried writing random scenes and they petered out. I ended up typing the longhand, with polishes and edits as I went along. Now I’ve got a typed and printed draft and I’m back at the stop sign again.

I could write my titles on slips of paper and pull one out of a jar and work on whichever one I pick. That doesn’t always work either. That is, it works, but not in the way I planned. My brain gets fed up with me forcing a story and tosses a bright and shiny new idea in front of me. That’s how I wrote the story I just finished. I was trying to force my way through one my brain didn’t really want to write, so it sent me down another road. That abandoned story is still sitting on my desk. Maybe I’ll go back to it and see if Mr. Brain coughs up something better rather than work on the dead one.

Y'know, I could have a whole career that way. That could be my Inspiration Story. The poor thing could languish for decades while I write other book after other book instead of finishing that one. I go with whatever works.

Once I do decide on something, I’ll try the book in a month thing again. I can write 3000 words a day. At least I proved that much. Now I just need a new idea. Easy as pie.

Or I could say to heck with it and go watch The Real Housewives of Lower West Armpit, Texas. There’s a lot to be said for cable TV. Where did I leave the remote?

Release Day!

It’s release day! Legacy officially goes on sale today. This is my fifth book with Siren/BookStrand and I’m still jumping up and down like I did with the first one. Like eating chocolate or falling in love, it’s a feeling that never gets old.

I’ve already blogged about several aspects of this one, so here’s the recap: Legacy was a happy accident. I was writing what I thought would be a standalone, Belonging, when I got an idea for a sequel. This book made me stretch my writing muscles, because I’ve never written a ménage before. I got to flex my length muscles and mystery-writing muscles while I was at it as well. A London Werewolf in America was a mystery too, but it wasn’t as long as this one. Plus I got to hang out with Wallace and Jeremy some more, and give them an extra-happy ending in addition to the first one. Given what I put them through, I suppose they had it coming.

I think this is it for the boys, though. Their little flock has been through enough. Time to settle down and raise those kids Colleen always wanted. This isn’t quite the end of this “universe,” however. I’ve got a couple other things I’m working on, but eventually there should be one more story to round out the trilogy. After all, the victims of the vampire conspiracy are still running around out there, and the Preacher isn’t the type of man to let loose ends dangle for long.

And now, the commercial portion of our blog.

Legacy
Available through www.bookstrand.com/legacy

BLURB

Colleen Brenner doesn’t believe in vampires, until she’s attacked by one. Two men come to her aid: Wallace Hamilton, a slayer, and his lover, Jeremy Teach. The pair take her into their home and under their protection. It turns out vampires have targeted not only Colleen, but all the children from the commune she grew up in. What are the monsters after?

As the three delve into Colleen’s repressed memories, she finds herself drawn to both of the men guarding her. Jeremy is human, but Wallace is a vampire himself, and Colleen’s growing attraction to him is countered by her mistrust of what he is. Then their investigation uncovers a decades-old evil tied to Colleen’s shrouded past. She herself may not be as human as she’s been led to believe. Can their newfound love survive the truth of Colleen’s inhuman legacy, or is it—and Colleen’s soul—doomed?

EXCERPT

Balancing the grocery bags, she fumbled the door open. Her psychic prickle clamped down on the greeting she’d been about to call out. Colleen sensed Wallace in the kitchen. If she strained, she could hear faint noises that had nothing to do with pre-dinner prep.

Jeremy’s kitchen, Wallace awake. Easy to add two and two.

Courtesy demanded she leave them alone. She could go upstairs, linger in the shower, and make a ton of noise coming back down. Then she caught Wallace’s growl and decided, screw courtesy. She wouldn’t deny she enjoyed watching them together. Wallace encouraged it, in fact. Freaking undead exhibitionist. With a mischievous smile lighting her face, Colleen set her grocery bags on the floor and crept to the kitchen doorway.

Two pots, a knife, and a bag of carrots lay abandoned on the counter. Colleen’s imagination set the scene—Jeremy at the counter, his back to the doorway, Wallace stalking his unsuspecting prey with his uncanny silent tread. Perhaps Jeremy had a moment of warning before his capture—a hint of scent, a whisper of lips against his neck. Or perhaps he was as attuned to the vampire’s presence as she was and always knew when his lover was near.

They’d ended up beside the kitchen table. Wallace stood behind Jeremy with his arms clasped tight around the human’s waist. His lips nuzzled Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy leaned into the embrace, his eyes shut, humming that low, throaty purr of his that always turned her on. No doubt Jeremy had loosened his shirt collar himself. His enjoyment of the vampire’s attentions made itself boldly known against the fabric of his slacks. Colleen stared at that tantalizing bulge, right up until the moment Wallace bit into Jeremy’s neck.

It wasn’t anything like the violent, melodramatic attacks depicted in vampire movies. His fangs sank into Jeremy’s flesh right over the mark on his neck in a smooth, unhurried movement that was gentle as a kiss. Perhaps this was a kiss to Wallace. His throat rippled with a single swallow before he lifted his mouth. He laved his tongue across the bite, as tender as a mother cat with her kitten. Not so much as a drop of blood escaped it. Jeremy melted against him with a whimper of pure bliss.

Colleen’s gut dropped. This was so wrong in so many ways. Yet everything about Wallace’s actions, even the bite, said love.

Too late, she remembered Wallace could hear her heartbeat.

Persistence

Over on a writer’s forum where I like to lurk, somebody started a discussion about the works of Stephen King. Specifically: which do you like better, his earlier stuff that he wrote while drunk off his ass, or his later works, after he cleaned up his act? A good question, and one which provoked a lively discussion.

For myself, I love his early stuff. We were both decades younger, when weird is appealing, and his doped-out brain came up with some totally full-on crazy stuff that dragged you in and never let go. (Think The Stand and It here.) Then he hit a low period, where he kind of lost his stride (From a Buick 8 sucked big time). He got it back with Duma Key. I like this new mature, sober King. He’s not the batshit-crazy writer he was in his 20s and 30s, but who among us is any more? I still look forward to a King book. I still buy them in hardcover and read through them in about a week or so. These days I can once again close the cover with a sigh of satisfaction, the way I did 30-odd years back.

Then somebody on the forum made a telling point. Say what you will about King’s writing prowess or lack of it, the man keeps writing. Drunk or sober, healthy or in agonizing pain, tanked up on booze or hopped up on pain pills, King has never once stopped writing during the last 40 years.

Let’s examine this. King doesn’t deny his alcoholism. He claims he was so wasted he doesn’t even remember writing Cujo. Somewhere in middle age he straightened out. Things were going fine until he got hit by a careless driver and wound up in the hospital. There followed a long period of recuperation during which he could only find relief from the pain by lying flat on his back on the floor. None of which put so much as a dent in his output. He even published books under a pseudonym (Richard Bachman) at the same time he was publishing as King.

Dig that. There were two of him, and neither one quit writing. Maybe Bachman slowed down a little. King kept plugging away.

There’s a lesson to be learned in this for all of us. Maybe it’s passion for writing, or he’s serious in his pursuit of his career, or obsessed, or compulsive, or just plain flat-out nuts. Doesn’t matter. This is what he does. This is what he is. King is a writer, and ain’t nothing on this earth gonna stop him from putting words on paper.

And you’re going to stand there and tell me you don’t have time to write? Or that you have a stomach ache, or you’re busy, or you’re blocked, or you’re tired, or you just don’t feel like it? I’ve used every one of those excuses on myself, sometimes several at once. Do I feel like a putz right now.

People claim persistence constitutes a huge percentage of success. Here’s the man who’s living proof. Talent and luck do play a part, but without the persistence to keep at it day after day, year after year, you might as well just pack it in.

No more excuses. If Stephen King can write a novel while lying on the floor in excruciating pain, then, by God, I can write a page today.

Be nice if I could also rake in the bucks he’s getting. Maybe that’ll come if I persist.

# # #

And here’s where persistence pays off. Legacy, the book I spent a year farting around on and finally finished, comes out February 16. It’s now available for pre-order at www.bookstrand.com/legacy. Lots’a vampires, action, angst, and threeway sex. Pick up a copy and make me happy. Pick up the prequel, Belonging, as well and make me ecstatic. End of shameless plug.

Up and Coming

Like the cover up there? I do. That’s Legacy, the long-awaited (by me; damn thing took forever to write) sequel to Belonging. I’ve blogged about both books enough already, so let’s just sit back and admire Jinger Heaston’s Twilightesque cover for a minute. The vampire, the human, and the woman who’s a bit of both and unites the group. I don’t know if Jinger read any of the manuscript or if that was accidental, but her layout certainly works out symbolically as well as artistically. You can’t ask for more from a cover artist.

I love it when one of my books comes out. Then I can post cover pics and excerpts and not have to worry about coming up with a blog topic. It’s too soon for excerpts since I haven’t gotten final edits on the book yet. That’ll be next month. It’s tentatively due for release on February 16. About six to eight weeks after that I can expect to find the print version on Amazon. Next to holding your newborn child, holding a physical copy of your finished book is the best damn feeling in the world. This is why I haven’t switched over to Kindle yet.

That could change by the end of the year, maybe sooner. Now that Legacy is off my to-do list, it’s back to work as a writer, which includes my new sidebar career as a writer of M/M, under a brand-new pseudonym. This means reading more M/M … just to see what’s being done in the genre, of course. There’s a ton more M/M romance being e-pubbed than I can find in print, so at some point I’ll have to invest in a Kindle or Nook so I can read more dirty books—I mean, do research. Yeah, that’s what we’re calling it these days. Damn, I love this job.

Yesterday I uploaded my entry to Amazon’s Breakout Novel contest. That was another project that messed up my schedule for awhile, as it was yet another long book (94K words), this time in the fantasy genre. No romance, just a lot of action, smart remarks, and the possible end of the world. It hasn’t a hope of winning, it being genre and all, but I’m hoping it advances far enough along that I get to the editorial critique stage. If nothing else, having a set deadline forced me to finish the thing. I now have a completed manuscript I can either sub to a fantasy publisher or consider publishing on my own. Self-publishing is something else I have to look into this year.

Back to work. I have the M/M shapeshifter story I was working on when the Legacy edits came in, and the other M/M story that blindsided me while I was working on the first one. Then I think I’ll take a break and do M/F for a while. It pays to keep busy. And how’s your week going?