A Picture is Worth...

Sometimes you just have to go for the serious cute. Let's see what hot man + darling kitty can do. Inspired authors can have their 100-1000 words posted here, with links, covers, and news.

Do we drool or say "aw" on this one?

Trainwreck

I just came away from the sort of trainwreck that I said once would make me point and snicker. I'm not doing either, I'm more sad than anything. This has to be the worst mess of this kind that I've seen. A reviewer gave what looked like an even handed review to a self-pubbed book, and the author disintegrated. The link is here, if you must, but you might want to skip it. Suffice to say that the author went outside without putting on her big girl pants.

And everyone knows about it now. I found out because a friend passed on a newsletter from a writing course that used it for a cautionary tale.

It's been said before that reviews are for readers. Writers get some benefit too, it's publicity if the review is good and hopefully a way to improve if it isn't so good. But the review isn't meant for ego stroking, it's a map to readers and sometimes it's marked 'here be dragons.'

I try not to forget that writers are people. Low-rated reviews are hard to write. In fact, if I don't review frequently some weeks, it's most likely because I'm struggling to review something that didn't work so well. There's no way to keep it from hurting sometimes without abandoning honesty. And I'm not going to do that. Not everything written is the most deathless prose since the Iliad.

I'm sure I've hurt some feelings already, or maybe no one ever read, but either way, no one has gone off on me, and for that, thank you authors. It could happen one day, and if it does, I just hope I can keep as calm as Big Al did.

About Damn Time by Elizabeth Jewell

Troy and Jason have been best friends forever -- or at least since first grade. Lately, though, Troy wants more. A drunken make-out session makes him think Jason might want more, too, but Troy is afraid to push things for fear of ruining their friendship.

When a vintage Mustang enters the picture, though, Troy makes a hasty bet with Jason that will change their relationship forever. Are they ready to take the leap from friends to lovers?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Friends to lovers story here, not completely satisfactory or believable.

The story itself is rather sweet -- friends since childhood, openly gay at least with each other, and supportive in a hands off kind of way, Troy and Jason live rather ordinary young men's lives, Jason as a mechanic who also welds sculpture he lacks confidence to market, and Troy as a bartender whose casual encounters never include Jason. Rebuilding a '68 Mustang becomes not just Jason's project but a way to bring the two together as more than friends. One drunken make-out session becomes the springboard to getting the car finished and some sex to celebrate.

Unfortunately, the story is told from the less interesting character's POV. Troy's drifting through his life, doing nothing much at all, although the description of one of his encounters did make me laugh out loud. Jason has more going on; he builds, rebuilds, creates, and agonizes, which we can see only through Troy's much less than focused gaze.

But I honestly don't see how these two could muddle through years of teenagerhood, six months of half-assed smooching, and then, when the big pay-off is in sight, they both neglect to fill their pockets properly. Or risk the paint job on the pride and joy, except for dramatic flair. A fifteen year or more friendship could certainly explode into more, but why it hasn't earlier, especially if they are aiding and abetting each other's casual escapades, is never really delved into. A vague bit of possessiveness on Troy's part is the only real hint of emotion, he seems to barely exist on the page.

There's a substantial amount of telling going on, so when a small explosion of showing happens, it's noticeable, and not enough to rescue the story. I really wanted to like this story, it's set local for me, but the few bright bits in a sea of ho hum aren't enough. 2 Marbles

Thousand Word Thursday

This pic has to be worth some words -- yum. Anyone who's moved to write them, please do -- I'll post your 100-1000 word story here with your news, links, and covers. Our last pic netted lovely ficlets from Mara Ismine, Juniper Gray,  and JM Cartwright. I can hardly wait to see what our gymnasts will inspire.

And if you just want to drool, I'm there with you!

A Thousand Word Thursday Story from Mara Ismine

Ryan concentrated on getting the boiling water into the mug. The shower had already stopped running and Mac would be out soon wearing Ryan’s bath robe or hopefully less. Ryan could picture Mac in his bathroom and he liked the image.

A cup of tea and some toast might not be the height of culinary elegance, but Ryan was hoping that he would get points for trying. He had already set the kitchen table; well, set might be an overstatement, but he had put out plates, cutlery and all the possible spreads he could find. The Marmite could be a deal breaker, but it was in the cupboard so Ryan had shrugged and put it on the table with all the rest. He had even checked all the jars for edibility and chucked the few that had gone furry.

He put the kettle down and poked at the tea bag to get it brewing. He knew that tea was the right thing to make because he had offered tea or coffee last night in that awkward moment when they had got back to his flat. Mac had laughed and said he would have tea because he didn’t like coffee, but he could think of better things to be doing.

Mac’s ideas had been a lot more interesting than tea or coffee and Ryan had never got any further than putting the kettle on last night; at least, not in the kitchen. They had left a trail of clothes all the way to the bedroom and it hadn’t even mattered that Ryan’s bed wasn’t made – the pillows and duvet had ended up on the floor anyway.

Ryan was hoping that he could persuade Mac to make this more than just one night. He was sure that Mac had found the sex as fantastic as he had. Making a good impression out of bed was more difficult. He should have made time for some grocery shopping during the week, but he had put it off. At least he had been bored enough to clean the flat one evening so it looked reasonable.

He poked the tea bag again and decided that the tea was brewed enough. He fetched the milk from the fridge and topped the mug up with it. It looked reasonable, so he fished the tea bag out and squeezed it to add a hint more colour. He dumped the tea bag and rinsed his slightly burnt fingers before giving Mac’s tea a final stir.

“Perfect timing,” Ryan said as he turned to put the mug of fresh tea on the table and found Mac leaning in the doorway watching him, wearing the bath robe; the very loosely belted bath robe. “Did you want some toast? I’m out of just about everything else. I’ve been putting off the evil grocery shopping.” Ryan hesitated with the mug still in hand, should he kiss Mac? Or do something other than just hand him the tea?

“Toast is fine.” Mac grinned and pushed away from the doorframe. “Is that my tea?” He took the mug at Ryan’s nod and sipped it cautiously. “Perfect.” Mac set the mug on the table even as he snaked his other arm around Ryan’s waist. “It’s hot enough to wait while I say good morning properly.”

“Good.” Ryan said as Mac’s lips, all fresh and minty, closed over his. Ryan wasn’t sure if he was referring to the tea or the good morning kiss, but he was glad that he’d finger brushed his teeth at the kitchen sink while Mac was showering. He stopped worrying about unimportant details as Mac’s tongue duelled with his.
Mac pulled back and Ryan reluctantly let him end the kiss, but he didn’t let go.

“You got any plans for today?” Mac asked, leaning back to look at Ryan’s eyes.

“Nothing concrete.” Ryan would have cancelled anything if Mac was offering him more time together. The way Mac’s hands were stroking over his briefs suggested that Mac might have some more interesting ideas in mind.

“So going back to bed and working up more of an appetite for the toast is possible?” Mac slid his thumbs under the leg elastic of Ryan’s briefs and stroked the firm muscles of Ryan’s arse.

“I’m all for working up appetites and satisfying them,” Ryan said with a grin. “Maybe we could share a shower before the toast.”

“I’ve just had a shower,” Mac pointed out.

“I’m sure we can get you needing another.”

The tea was stone cold by the time they got back to the kitchen for the toast.

***********************************************************************

Thanks, Mara! You do lovely short work – that must come as a break from longer pieces. Mara’s second novel, Yarotangi, just came out, and it’s set in the Dark Masters universe which is also the setting for Smoke.

Yarotanji enjoys being an elite agent with the Peace Keeper Task Force and spending his time moving from planet to planet investigating various potentially dangerous situations. He spends a lot of his time lusting after Asrayan, his partner for most assignments, on and off the job. Yarotanji likes his job and his partner, people trying to damage his person and unrequited lust aside.

But he has a very bad feeling about the new assignment he and Asrayan have been given. It should be a walk in the park compared to their normal assignments. And it is - until things get complicated and those difficulties threaten his hard won friendship with Asrayan.

Yarotanji and Asrayan first appeared as secondary characters in the novel Smoke.

Find these and Mara’s other stories here.

Facebook -- I finally did it

Okay, I am full of opinions, or I wouldn't be running this blog, and I've gone out and spread those opinions by joining Facebook. Am I the last one on the planet who hasn't? Maybe.

People have been really sweet about friend requests. I expected they'd go "Cryselle who? Run along, little girl," but no one has yet. So now anything I say here will have a wider audience. I always want to have something intelligent to say about what I read, so if I don't post every day, it's because the quality of my thoughts isn't what I want to show the world.

Fortunately, my lovely authors who respond to the Thousand Word Thursday prompts will help me out.

A Thousand Word Thursday Story from Juniper Gray

Coffee and Keys

“You sure you don't want one?”

“You know I don't drink that tasteless crap.”

Glen shot him a flat look and returned to the precise preparations of his instant coffee; black-one-sugar. Steve stood with his back against the sink, watching Glen as he added the right amount of water to the right amount of granules, stirred in the right amount of sugar. The thick aroma filled the air of Steve's small kitchen. The scent of stolen mornings with Glen. Not that Steve would ever let on he thought of the instant-coffee smell in such a way.

Glen set the steaming mug aside and sealed the little foil packet his brand of coffee came in, then tucked it safely back into its cardboard box. His hands were so gentle, their movements so exact. Glen was a stickler for order – liked to keep things just the way he wanted them. That was why his mug and coffee and sugar and even spoon had made their way into Steve's apartment. For mornings like this. He would have brought the water too if he could've.

And yet, there were certain facets to Glen's life where order didn't seem to matter. He wasn't overly particular about cleanliness - at least not to the level of obsession he had with the particulars of his coffee – he wasn't massively vain, he never lectured Steve or tried to introduce order into his pretty-much spontaneous existence. Even now, performing his morning ritual, Glen was only half-dressed and only the shorts even belonged to him; the shirt was the first thing he'd found on the floor after rolling out of bed, and combined with his stubble and bed-hair he looked like something handed in at the YMCA.

Steve looked Glen over from foot to head. It was odd, really. He'd never come across anyone he liked absolutely everything about before. The way Glen stood so flat-footed sometimes. The ass cheek peeking out from one side of his underwear. The slender line of his waist and the broad of his muscular shoulders. The consternation on his face when he was caught up in his own perfectionism. His complete lack of self-awareness. Those hands that pressed at Steve, so tender and so firm, sent him out of his mind and brought him rocketing back down to earth again. Steve wanted those hands on him now, but kept it to himself.

Glen stowed the box inside the nearest cupboard, next to Steve's connoisseur ground coffee. Steve allowed himself a small smile. He liked it when Glen stayed over. That crappy instant coffee was starting to smell like home.  

Glen picked up the mug and gave the contents a cursory blow followed by a cautious sip. Satisfied, he leant back against the counter and looked over at Steve. He could have stayed in bed, let Steve make it for him. But Steve couldn't be trusted with the task of coffee-making, apparently. Not yet.

“You're not forced to rush out of here, you know. I can leave you a key.”

Glen stretched, toes clicking, drawing Steve's shirt tight across his chest. “Nah, it's fine. Doesn't take me long to get ready, I won't hold you up.” He noticed Steve looking. “What?” he said, peering levelly over his coffee.

“Nothing, I'm just thinking.”

“Dangerous ground,” Another sip, and a raised eyebrow.

If Glen kept this up he'd be spread all over the counter, coffee or no. Steve's fingertips ached for Glen's contours already. His cock had similar ideas, and he had to distract himself. “I think your mug would be more at home amongst your other junk, don't you?”

Glen just stared at him for a moment, then looked a little sad. He glanced down at his mug. “Point taken,” he muttered.

“Point taken, but in the wrong direction.” Steve told him, moving past him and heading for the hall. It was beyond time he was getting ready for work.

“What does that mean?” he heard Glen say. He smiled, refusing to make it any clearer, and started up the stairs. Glen's footsteps followed him. “Hey,”

Steve turned, foot on the second step, and put on his best enigmatic expression. “I'm just saying, if you absolutely had to pollute my place with more of your crap, I'd be okay with that.”

They stared at each other for a moment. He started up the stairs again. “Are you asking me to move in with you?” Glen said, incredulous.

“So what if I am?”

“You can't ask me to move in, you haven't even told me if you're in love with me yet!”

Steve stopped and peered at Glen over the stair bannister. He leaned forward slightly. “I love you.” he said. The colour seemed to drain from Glen's cheeks. This was fun, Steve decided. “Don't even think about bringing that sixties vase, though.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or that candelabra.”

“I inherited those!” Glen complained, brows furrowing. Then he waved a hand around in front of his face as though fending off wasps. “That's not even the point! You...! I...”

Steve was at the top of the stairs now. “I'm going to get dressed. Let me know when your linguistic faculties return so we can discuss this like adults.” he shouted down.

And then Glen was pelting up the stairs after him, grin wider than seemed possible, chasing Steve into the bedroom and grabbing him, kissing him as they both tipped back onto the bed. “I hate you, goddamn asshole,” Glen grinned into his ear, those dexterous hands assuring Steve that, in fact, quite the opposite was true.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Juniper Gray, who provided this little glimpse of morning. Her first novel, Imposition, will be out this summer from Torquere, which is especially good news for us science fiction readers! Check for news at her website and livejournal.