Story Time

(Came up empty for a topic today, so I rooted through my WIPs and found a snippet. This is M/M, but in a genre new to me: contemporary. No shapeshifters, no vampires, nothing (ahem) supernatural. Just two guys dating. Maybe that's why it stalled on me. I think I may have a few ideas to get it going again. We'll see what the future brings. In the meantime, here's the opening.)

Ryan Barnes was sitting in his favorite coffee bar with a French vanilla and a chocolate cake donut when the man of his dreams walked in. He froze with the donut halfway to his mouth and watched the man stroll from the door to the counter. His walk showcased a trim build and khaki slacks wrapped around the proverbial ass to die for. The man reached the counter and murmured to the barista. Ryan couldn't see his face, but he pictured a smile that could launch a thousand hard-ons without breaking a sweat.

Starting with the one in Ryan's pants.

The man raised his voice slightly. He had a pleasant tenor. That voice screaming Ryan's name in the throes of hot sex would sound like birdsong. Ryan set his donut down with a little worshipful groan.

"I have got to hit that," he told his cousin Jordan, seated across the table from him. "Like, right this minute."

"Forget it." Jordy sipped his own mint-mocha with a blasé disregard for the dream come true at the counter. "He's not your type."

"Says who?"

"All the laws of nature. I've seen that guy around. He teaches at the community college. He reads books. Rumor has it he's writing one. The man has a brain, Ry. He's out of your league."

"I read. A lot of sex happens in the brain. I read that in a book once."

"You work with a band saw."

"I make furniture. That's practically an artist. An artist is practically up there with a teacher." All the while he continued to stare at the MOHD's fine khaki'd ass. Teacher or not, the guy must work out. Had there been any hint of a belly under his pullover sweater? Ryan hadn't noticed one. He hadn't noticed any flaws at all.

He couldn't hear precisely what was said, but when the barista put two chocolate cake donuts into a bag he knew Fate had arranged this. The MOHD could drink crappy English tea and read depressing Russian novels and it wouldn't make a difference. The chocolate cake donuts had spoken.

Ryan got to his feet. Jordy grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare."

"What? I need a refill." He tipped his cup. Coffee sloshed near the bottom. Ryan hastily chugged it. He winked at his cousin. "Wish me luck."

"No."

Ryan shook off Jordy's hand and sauntered up to the counter. The barista flicked a glance his way from over by the urns. The MOHD didn't even look around. Ryan took note of the coffee she was drawing for him. Basic black. No mocha, no latte, no frappe, no frills. Just straight up, bitter caffeine. Okay, he could work with that. The man ate chocolate cake donuts.

He clacked his mug on the counter to get the barista's, and the dream's, attention. "Can I get a refill here?"

"Just a minute, sir. Be right with you."

Ryan waved to let her know she could take her time. He turned his head to flash a smile at the man of his dreams. The MOHD was looking at him.

Ryan's smile, throat and brain dried to sawdust.

About a dozen years ago, right after he'd got out of high school and before he landed his first job at Craig's Custom Furniture, Ryan had taken his savings, graduation and birthday money, refurbished a van, and gone on a six-month tour of the States as a gift to himself. One of his unplanned stops had been at Crater Lake in Oregon. He remembered the deep, inviting blue of the water, so cool and pristine in its volcanic caldera. This man's eyes surpassed the lake in both hue and depth. Ryan was convinced if he moved so much as a toe he'd fall into them and drown.

Slowly the rest of Mr. Dream's features came into focus. Average height, three, maybe four inches shorter than Ryan's six-one. Dark hair, probably combed early on but now tousled by the wind outside. Skin that saw more fluorescents than sun, with a touch of stubble already reasserting itself after the morning's shave. Moist lips in a firm but almost pretty face. Those lips were frowning slightly. He blinked but didn't speak.

"Hey," Ryan said. It was all his tongue could manage.

"Here you go." The barista returned with the dream's coffee in a tall, lidded Styrofoam cup. The MOHD flashed a brief smile. Ryan's dick throbbed with wanting. The man thanked her, paid for his coffee and donuts and walked out of the shop, all without a word or another look at Ryan. The wind gave his hair another artful toss. He ducked his head against it, stepped beyond the view of the front windows and was gone.

Inside the shop, inside his brain, Ryan kicked himself in the balls.

The barista tugged his empty mug out of his hand, yanking Ryan's awareness back to the now-empty and colorless world around him. "Make it a black," he said on impulse. "What he had. The guy who was just here." He fumbled for his wallet, and an excuse. "Y'know, I swear I've seen him around before. Doesn't he teach at WACC?"

"Mr. St. James? Yeah, I think so. History. Or bio. Some science." She shrugged. Her interest in the customers stopped after they ordered. "You want another donut?"

"Maybe on the way out." Ryan paid and stumbled back to his table in a daze.

"Smooth," Jordy welcomed him back. "I should have taken notes."

"Screw you, stringbean. At least I know what I like. You can't even make up your mind. What are you on this week? Men or women?"

"I don't believe in limiting myself."

"Right. You date women who look like men and men who look like women. Why don't you just hook up with brother-sister twins? Make it easy on yourself."

"You didn't even get his name, did you?"

"I got a name. And you were right. He teaches at the college." Ryan took a gulp of coffee and almost spit it out. Strong. This was good. This was a good thing. A man who drank this on a regular basis wouldn't hesitate to swallow anything waved at his mouth.

He took a more cautious sip. Jordy watched in silent amusement. "You're going to make a total idiot out of yourself, aren't you? Yet again."

"You want to find out what else a band saw's good for? Didn't think so." Ryan dumped sugar into the coffee until he could stand it. Yeah. That'd get a man's motor running. He flashed a cocky grin at his cousin. "I think it's time I went back to school."

I'm a sucker for a (sci-fi) romance

It probably all started with Princess Leia and Han Solo. I've never been a big reader of science fiction, but I love to watch sci-fi TV shows and movies. And to me, a romantic at heart, it's made even better if there's a love story in the mix.

Sure, I loved all the action in the original three Star Wars movies, the story of good versus evil, but what part of The Empire Strikes Back did I watch and read (I did read the novel) over and over again? The part where Leia and Han confess their love to each other moments before he's frozen in carbonite. This movie was released just days before I turned 10, so I was in full possession of my romantic streak early.

In the more recent Star Wars trilogy, I even rooted for Anakin and Padme, even though I KNEW it wouldn't work out in the end. That, my friends, is an incurable romantic.

Fast forward to 2002. Firefly debuted on FOX. Being a fan of sci-fi and westerns, I was very, very excited about Joss Whedon's mixture of those two genres in this fantastic show that FOX -- grumble, grumble -- didn't give the chance to grow its audience that it deserved. Did I mention grumble? The dialogue and banter was great (which is a Whedon hallmark), it was full of fun action and scary bad guys (Reavers -- shudder!). Again, however, it was a budding romance that was one of the high points for me. I loved seeing how the ship's engineer, Kaylee, and the doctor, Simon Tam, circled around each other until they finally got together in Serenity, the feature film based on Firefly.

Staite's character is one half of the latest burgeoning sci-fi romance that has me on the edge of my seat, on one of my favorite shows, Stargate Atlantis. On the recent episode "Quarantine", Staite's character of Dr. Jennifer Keller is trapped in the infirmary with Ronon Dex, a Satedan warrior who is often the Atlantis gang's muscle. The longer they're trapped, the more they talk and reveal to each other about their lives. Then the looks begin to pass between them, and you cheer that this tough guy who has a loss in his past he doesn't often talk about and this brilliant buy shy and timid doctor who has never felt she's belonged anywhere might be on the road to romance. In fact, they're on the verge of kissing when the cityJewel Staite, who played Kaylee, is now one half of another shuts down the automatic quarantine and they are able to leave the infirmary. Just when I was afraid that this might-be romance might come to nothing more than the product of being trapped together, a scene near the end of the episode still has Ronon and Keller giving each other some glances that other members of the Atlantis expedition notice. Yay! I can't wait to see what happens.

So, any fans of sci-fi romances out there? Any of you watch Atlantis? If so, what do you think of the Ronon-Dr. Keller pairing?

Perseverance

I would like to welcome our guest blogger this Friday, debut author Mona Risk.

Perseverance: Is it the key to success or heartaches (and prospective heart attacks)?

It’s a strange question I‘ve been asking myself today while going through a rollercoaster time to say the least.

Last week I received two rejection letters and two requests. The editor requesting revisions for one of my manuscripts quit the publishing company after working with me for a year and promising a quick response.(?!) AND my first book was released yesterday.

Maybe I should rephrase the above paragraph in fewer words. Emotional words: Disappointed. Anxious. Relieved. Depressed. Joyful. Delirious.

If I keep hyperventilating the way I’ve done all last week, I am heading straight toward a heart attack. Can my poor heart accommodate so many emotions crammed in one week? Eventually I hope all my manuscripts will find a happy home. I believe it because I want to believe it, because without faith in myself, in my writing, my muse would hide, sleep would elude me and my heart would hammer, race, slow, and hurt.

So I decided to send the requests and then ignore them for the moment, forget about the departing editor until a new one reminds me of her existence, and celebrate the release of my first book, TO LOVE A HERO.

I am published. Yeah!!!. My first book, the book of my heart, TO LOVE A HERO came out yesterday at Cerridwen Press. I cried with joy last May when I received the Call. I thought it was the culmination of my dreams. Let me tell you about my Call.

It all started ten years ago. In a different life, I was Director of the Analytical Division of an environmental company. I supervised a staff of chemists performing analytical tests, and I worked on various government contracts. A monotonous predictable life that suddenly changed when I won a contract to refurbish a military laboratory in Belarus.

I traveled fifteen times to Minsk, capital of Belarus, and was well received by everyone. I worked with colonels and generals, chemists and engineers. I was invited to their homes and became friends with their wives. During the inauguration of the lab we were featured on their national TV. Needless to say, I fell in love with the country.

Five years later, I wrote my first book, TO LOVE A HERO. Through my novel, a fictional story about an American chemist and a Belarussian officer, I lived again my fantastic trips to Belarus. My story highlights the hospitality and warmth of the gorgeous and gallant Belarussians officers who sing, toast with vodka and make a woman feel like a goddess.

The hero, Major General Sergei Fedorin, has pledged to cleanup his country of the nuclear pollution that killed his wife and threatens his nation with cancer. American aid allows him to start his mission by refurbishing an old military laboratory. The patriotic Sergei is a true hero in his country who protects millions of citizens. He is watched and scrutinized by everyone, admired and revered, but not allowed to breathe, or love, or live a personal life. He accepts it all because of his love for Belarus.

BUT…When the lovely Dr. Lornier stumbles on the escalator of the airport straight into his arms, Sergei has more on his mind than nuclear pollution.

Raised in boarding schools, Cecile learned to fend for herself at an early age. She buried her loneliness under long hours of study and work. Now she’s determined to excel in her first international contract. So many people are watching over her shoulders: her boss at EAL; the government auditor who came with her to Belarus; the chauvinistic Belarussians officers; the treacherous Colonel Roussov who would go to any length to destroy Sergei; and especially Rob, her ex-fiancé, the sleaze ball who snatched her promotion at EAL. Nothing can detract her from her mission

BUT… In Belarus, a Russian country dominated by male chauvinism and intrigues, Cecile finds much more chemistry than she bargains for, and in the arms of General Sergei, she learns that chemicals are not the only things that can generate heat.

Can she betray his trust to save his career? Would her love cost him everything he valued?

I had a lot of fun writing this book and I hope you will discover a new country and interesting culture while reading TO LOVE A HERO.

Writing a book is one thing. Seeing it published is another. During my journey to publication, I often pondered if it wasn’t easier to refurbish the lab in Belarus, struggle with the chauvinism of my foreign clients and pass the thin-comb inspections of government auditors.

I wrote my book in three months and spent four years editing it. I entered my manuscript in numerous contests and edited according to judges’ comments, submitted to innumerable critiques and edited according to CPs suggestions, requested help from wonderful mentors and edited according to pertinent advice, and I edited, and I edited…for months, for years, while trying to save the plot and create my voice.

Last year at the FRW conference in Miami, Raelene Gorlinsky was sitting at a table waiting for the next writer to come and pitch her story. I stood at the door of the room admiring her adorable hat. No one showed up. A writer asked who was the lady with the hat. I said. "She's Ellora's Cave's publisher." Behind me the coordinator answered, "And Cerridwen Press's. But her last one didn’t show up. Do you want to go?" That made me jump. I hadn't planned to talk to Raelene and I didn't have a pitch, but a minute later I sat in front of Ms. Gorlinsky trying to summarize the book of my heart. Raelene smiled, asked questions, and I relaxed.

A week later I sent my requested material to Cerridwen Press and a month later came the first e-mail from Helen Woodall requesting the whole manuscript. By then my mother had been rushed to the hospital with congestive heart failure. I copied my manuscript on my laptop and stayed at the hospital all day, helping my mother drink and eat, and in between, reading, editing and revising. I sent my manuscript to Helen after two weeks.

It was 7:30 am on May 15. Still half asleep from a late night, I saw Helen's e-mail address on my e-mails and the heading, TO LOVE A HERO. I froze unable to open it and called my husband. He clicked on the e-mail and hugged me before I could even read it. Cerridwen Press would like to offer you a contract. Oh my God. I cried and I laughed. We bought a box of chocolate and took it to the hospital instead of champagne.

I was a published author. Finally. I wrote an acceptance letter to Helen, a delirious letter, that was far from professional.

Check www.cerridwenpress.com to order for TO LOVE A HERO, a sizzling love story in an exotic setting.

Did I reach my goal? Hu…I guess….I’m not sure. Now I have to promote my first book, blog about it, send it to reviewers, bite my nails while waiting for their comments, sell it, sell as many copies as I can. And then write another one.

The road to publication is a long one, sprinkled with emotions, with tears of frustration and shrieks of joy. The end of this bumpy road is too far away to even glimpse. Put your hand on you heart, take a deep breath and keep going my friend. As a writer you have too much passion to stop.

Find out more about Mona Risk and her books.

Buy Mona's book To Love A Hero.