Hi friends. I have two new stories in two new anthologies that recently came out from Bruno Gmunder. My story for Whipping Boys is called “Reunited” and is possibly the first S&M story I’ve done. It’s a classic revenge-at-the-class-reunion story (that’s a common fantasy, isn’t it?), and it’s pretty fun. Until the Sun Rises is gay vampire erotica and it contains my story “Birthday,” which is an excerpt from a novella I wrote this fall. That’s right: I’ve written a vampire novella. I had such a blast writing it, too. It still needs a lot of work, but it’s called Under Ocean City and it’s a take on my favorite vampire movie The Lost Boys, only with a lot more gay sex and with vampires who live underwater. Don’t ask when it’s coming out cause I don’t have a clue. I have so much shit to work on. Currently, My Sister’s Boyfriend Joey (the novel) is being read by friends, and I’m getting excited about doing a final pass on it and getting it out into the world in one way or another. It’s pretty great.0 Comments
Hey guys! So I produce this newsletter for queer Pittsburgh called QueerBurgher and we just put out our Pride issue. I think it might be the best one we’ve done yet. Check it out.
This weekend was Pride weekend in Pittsburgh and it was fun and crazy. Can I say that I’m glad it’s over? I am, not that I didn’t enjoy myself. But fuck, this spring has been a whirlwind of socializing and partying and being out and about and I’m feeling that desire to hole up and get some work done. I have so much work to do.
You guys, how do I promote myself better? I know that I need to do this if I want to make writing a full-time job, which is my only real, modest goal. I was on a gay yacht yesterday and Sharon Needles was giving me this long pep talk about how I’m the Dan Savage of Pittsburgh and that I have something that nobody else has and that there’s no reason I shouldn’t be famous. And that was really validating and kind of intoxicating, because I really respect that queen and she’s obviously made it well for herself. But a couple things: I’m not in the advice business like Dan Savage, I’m in the erotica business. And also, I feel like I have this core of insecurity that always keeps me in retreat from the spotlight. I don’t have any real interest in fame for fame’s sake, but I do want to find the biggest audience possible for my work. I like attention, and I’m getting more comfortable with putting myself out there in physical spaces where people see a good bit of who I am, but I love to retreat, to stand on the sidelines and observe. I don’t know. It’s this tension between introversion and extroversion and I don’t always know how to reconcile it.
But, just to restate (and yes this blog post is turning into an ersatz therapy session), I want to make writing my full-time job. I AM GOING to make writing my full time job. That’s it. I know that I can do this, but I need to market myself better.
How do I market myself better? Well, a suggestion a friend made was that I find somebody, a fan or an intern or something, who could help me with this. So I ask anybody who is reading this: what do you think of this idea? And would you be willing? Since I’m burying this question in a post I’ll probably restate the question later in a different post, but any feedback you could offer would be excellent.
I also saw Lucinda William this weekend at the Three Rivers Arts Festival. I got up close to the stage and she played a song I never heard before called “Out of Touch.” By the first verse I was captivated, by mid-song I was emotional, and then in the last verse there’s this twist in the lyrics from micro to macro and I fucking lost it right there in the crowd. I was crying and sort of trying to hide it but that song just hit me in the gut. Here it is.
Haaay. So thanks for all who voted on my latest story poll. I love doing those things, love the response that I get, love the way it motivates me to do something. I think a sci-fi story is going to be really fun, and though I haven’t written it yet I’m pretty sure it’s going to be about sex robots. Stay tuned. Currently I’m working on a commissioned story about Justin Bieber who, you know, is pretty doable, especially if he’s incapacitated, which he will be, in this story. I’m working really slowly because it’s spring and life and love is happening, which always takes precedence. Or takes precedence until I freak out about how little work I’m doing, which could happen any day now, but until then I’m enjoying being out in the sun with the people of the world.0 Comments
Just wanted to post a full rundown of where you can buy my latest ebook of never! before! published! straight(ish) guy stories.
Queer Young Cowboys – You can buy it in any format here: PDF, EPUB, or MOBI, and the profit goes to me and my friends rather than a corporate entity.
Thanks, yo.2 Comments
It should be up on Amazon, B&N, etc by the end of the day for those of you who prefer to operate within corporate channels.
If you buy it and like it, slap a review for it on Amazon, then let me know you did so I can send you a special gift.2 Comments
Quickly: 1) Straight(ish) Vol 1 should be available to purchase if not tomorrow, then early next week. I will announce and I will be obnoxious about it, so don’t worry. 2) New York City was great as always. I sold out of Backwoods and kicked myself for not bringing more copies – when I get on a selling tear, watch the fuck out (I’m good at it).
I’m using the month of April to step away from writing as much as possible and work on some collages, which I’ve neglected for a while now. I forgot how much I enjoy it, and how much I love the final product. Above is just a warm-up, the cover of my current journal. Many more to come soon but in the meantime if you want to check out my collage work so far, check out my Flickr account.0 Comments
Hiyeeee. I just put up a new story and it’s a good one: My Best Friend’s Boyfriend. This one I wrote for my ebook Str8 but Curious, which is still available and contains other stories not on this website.
Speaking of ebooks and stories not on this website, in the next week or so I’m going to be releasing an e-volume of straight-guy stories that I’ve never put out before, Straight(ish) Vol. 1. It will be available in all ebook formats from the Queer Young Cowboys store, as well from all your favorite corporate, too-big-for-their-britches internet-based booksellers.
A little more about Straight(ish) Vol 1:
Playdate: Naptime. Two young dads on a Sunday afternoon, bored and horny, realize they have more in common than they knew. The women aren’t around, and the girls won’t be up for at least an hour…
Room for Cream: A gay barista and a straight barista find a way to pass a slow, rainy evening at the coffee shop. It involves honey.
Office Politics: When a young university employee starts getting it on with the hunky college work-study guy, it’s only natural that others want to get in on the fun – including, Bob, the office homophobe.
Normal Str8 Masc Jock Apocalypse: When the perfect clean-cut straight guy at the sports bar offers you a ride home, of course you say yes – even if you’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into.3 Comments
I have a little file on my computer where I keep a list of stories I’ve written but haven’t released. The other day I decided to update this list. I started going through my hard drive, with an eye on stories that are complete, edited, but for whatever reason I didn’t think were “good enough” for public consumption. By the time I was done the list had doubled in size.
So in the next week or so I’m going to release the first of two self-published/produced ebooks of stories from the depths of my hard drive, Straight(ish) Vol 1 (followed by Straight(ish) Vol 2, of course). Reading through these old stories reminds me that, oftentimes, work that I initially discount winds up seeming pretty good in retrospect. At the very least, the stories in these two volumes are representative of my work and where I was when I wrote them. Here’s an excerpt from the first story in Vol 1, “Playdate.”
Naptime. The girls were asleep downstairs. Allen and I, in a lazy state from a feast of chicken nuggets and french fries (the girls’ choice), were sprawled out next to each other on the couch, yawning and gazing at the TV.
Just another rainy Sunday afternoon playdate. Allen and I had been doing this for the past two months, giving ourselves a chance at a moment of peace while the girls play with each other, on days when his wife and my girlfriend were scheduled to work.
We met through our women, in fact, though the two of us instantly hit it off. Allen, my age but looking as fine as I had in my early twenties, was into working out just like me, and we both liked to party but somehow all these other activities had taken a back seat to child rearing. Playdates were the only time we really got to hang out.
Allen, wearing nothing but a pair of nylon running shorts, his smooth and muscular body sinking back against the couch, flipped through the channels until he came to a documentary about the turn-of-the-21st-century rave scene in North America.
I’d been there, back when I was a senior in college, taking ecstasy and liquid acid and throwing myself into the sweaty throngs of young bodies dancing the night away without a care in the world. I missed those days, those wonder years of peace and prosperity. Mostly I missed the hot tattooed guy I’d made out when I was candyflipping one hallowed Halloween rave evening.
We’d carried on a pretty torrid and passionate affair, and I explored my burgeoning sexuality with him from top to bottom before I got the creeps about the whole thing and scurried into a relationship with a homely Social Sciences major from the local girls-only liberal arts college. One year later beget our bouncing baby girl, and my hunky tattooed trick (with the eight-inch dick – I know because we measured it once) fell into the deep, red, velvet-lined recesses of my memory. I still had some semblances of my youth – all of my hair and my macho, cut body – but I’d went from living on the edge to living in the suburbs of Chicago. It left something to be desired.
Allen adjusted his golden-haired legs, spreading his thighs until his knee rested against mine.
“I went to one of those once,” he said.
“I went to a lot of those.”
“Yeah? They were too expensive for my taste. I dug the scene though. Kinda freaky,” he said, his soft pink lips curling back, his eyebrows lowering in a scandalous smirk. It nearly gave me a hard-on, that look did. In the lazy Sunday afternoon air, though, pretty much anything gave me a hard-on.
Just then, the documentary started talking about the mutability of sexual desire that was present in the rave scene. They could’ve been talking about my life. Interspersed with the commentary was a few shots of boys kissing other boys. I waited with baited breath to see how Allen reacted.
He let out a low whistle.
“See what I mean?” he said, nudging my thigh with his. “Freaky.”