Talking Kink ‘n Seduction – Living Real Within the Lifestyle
“I haven’t been myself lately.” What an odd phrase I use to describe these times in my life. You see, I have depression, so really it is more apt for me to say, “I have been more myself lately than I was for the brief stint before.” But that isn’t a very good outlook on my life; resigning myself to the misery caused by a chemical imbalance in my brain.
I try to be social. I try to be happy. I get so good at playing the part that often times it takes quite a while for someone to come along and realize I am not the shining happy kitty I pretend to be. My husband… my Dom… is so good to me. He does whatever it takes to help me, but his job requires travel, which is always hard on me emotionally. I miss him, yes. Always. I miss him when he is on the other side of the globe, or in the next room. I miss him when he is too far away from me in bed and I can’t hear his heart’s deep, steady lubb-dubb as it pulses, its beat lulling me to sleep like a rocking infant. But more so than missing him, what hits me hardest is the lack of warmth. His life breathes through our home, his arms keep me centered and grounded in this reality; one of love and light and warm, snuggly kisses over coffee. When he is gone, I don’t have that anchor. I don’t have a lifeline out of my own head. I am trapped in the dark and dismal world of my own making with very few to turn to.
Because turning to someone is not easy. It’s hard to ask for help from someone who has no fucking concept of what shit you are going through. Not to mention the cynicism. When you are Depressed (Capital D-depressed, not “oh, starbucks didn’t have my favorite drink” depressed,) an ingrained bitterness seeps into every action. Even words of encouragement from friends turn sour on the back of your tongue. I know it will get better soon. I know my husband will come home. I know the pain and anger and annoyance I feel isn’t logical or right; it is simply a byproduct of bad chemistry. That doesn’t make it less real. So to avoid lashing out, I withdraw. I pull away from my friends, fans and everything they offer because in my head it isn’t welcome. Which of course, makes everything worse. Such is the never-ending, downward spiral that is Clinical Depression. What most don’t tell you though is how it effects every part of your life. The lows normal people feel are nothing compared to the rock-bottom pits of despair to be had on my bad days. When thoughts turn not necessarily to suicide, but to the idea that it might be better for me not to exist. When my sex drive is dead because the idea of having any kind of physical or emotional feeling at all refuses to cross my mind. I am weeks behind on my shows. My job inevitably suffers.
I wish it were a matter of not letting myself get so sad. I wish I could pull myself up by my bootstraps and slug through the rest of my day, or week… the rest of my life, if I am to be truly honest. I wish I could try to just not think about it. But it isn’t that simple.
So what can I do? Besides therapy, which is only as effective as you are capable of letting it be. How do I get through life and social situations when there are times I am wholly incapable of understanding and coping with basic human emotions? I don’t. When you have depression, you learn to fake a smile and a kind word. You learn to say, “Thanks everyone” as a noncommittal when you don’t feel thankful to anyone at all. YOU FAKE IT ALL.
Getting out of these lows is difficult too, and seems almost useless at times. When you consider the ease with which you slip back down against the effort and time needed to come back up? It is almost enough to send you back down on it’s own. Which makes me very lucky, I feel, to have a caring, devoted husband willing to do whatever I need him to do. We are a BDSM couple, 24/7. As my Dom, it is his duty to take care of my needs. When I am low, like I have been recently, believe it or not that means that I need him to be much stricter, much more controlling of me. It means I need pain sessions, where he takes a heavy strap or whip to my back and chest until my body has no choice but to acknowledge the physical pain ahead of the mental distress. It means I need the aftercare to follow, where he holds and pets my body just as lovingly as he broke me down before. We have been having a lot of pain sessions lately, for my benefit. There isn’t a sexual aspect to most of these sessions, no matter how little I am wearing, or what parts of my body he works with. Without the libido backing my brain, every part of me is reduced to mere bits of flesh and bone.
It also makes me more prone to subdrop, a negative response sometimes produced by the body after an intense session. Some people feel depressed when they drop, but considering the baseline I generally deal with, I can only tell if I am dropping when I start getting flu-like symptoms. Fever, cough, runny nose, lethargy. In more recent history after one such intense session, my husband took great care of me for the few days he was here, but work demands forced him to leave again. We both thought I was fine, but 2 days into his 3 week trip I could hardly force myself out of bed. Apathy didn’t help. Thankfully our old friend and Lifestyle Mentor was willing to fly down and help me. He is a straight man, but what I needed wasn’t sexual. Plus he is the only person besides my husband to whom I immediately submit. Such is the nature of our relationship. I spent a couple days serving him and his slave (essentially his Wife) within the confines of my own home and slept between them in my husband’s bed. The contact helped more than you can imagine.
I don’t really have a conclusion to this; such is the nature of these kinds of mental illness. I’m not asking anyone to stop. I’m not asking anyone to pull away and hopefully I am not offending anyone by writing this piece to describe the reasoning behind my prolonged absence. I just felt my friends deserved more than simple apology along with my return. And as always, my heartfelt thanks to any and all who have chosen to stand by me and mine through all of this, whether you were aware of it or not, your words have, and will continue to mean much to me in ways you cannot understand. ~baby boy
If you have questions (curiosity, fun or serious) or would like to know more about a certain topic, leave a comment below or send to email@example.com, (your name will not be shared)
“911… what’s the emergency?”
“Someone just stole my book.”
“Do you need the police?”
“Yes, please and HURRY they’re getting away with it!”
It seems simple enough, right? After all, that’s exactly what you would do if someone stole your car, your dog, or your purse. You call the police and thy go get it back for you. If by chance the thief manages to elude capture, the police put out what is called an APB and you might see something like this on the 5 o’clock news
“And in other news police are on the lookout for a suspect involved in the alleged theft of books from Authors Talon P.S. and Princess S.O. The suspect(s) is reported as being armed and danger so do not approach but call authorities right away should you spot them. Authorities are warning locals to be cautious if approached by anyone claiming to be the publisher or author or false claims to rights of sharing of this property. The property is in fact stolen and anyone caught with any copies of the stolen property may be charged with felony possession with intent to distribute and possible charges for harboring a fugitive could be added on. Those caught could face up to 20 years in prison and upward of $500,000.00 per title infringement.”
Sounds about right. It even says in the front of most any book you pick up on the front legal page that will often look something like this:
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from the Twins: Talon P.S. &/or Princess S.O. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.
So why is it that pirating books is up by 40% from last year?
Because stopping them is nowhere near as easy or cut and dry as it is trying to go after a thief who stole your car. In most cases of thieving, you call the police, file a report then go before a judge when they are caught. End of story, you do not have to pay the judge to listen to you. But if someone steals our book, we have to first send a DMCA take down notice, and there is always a good chance it gets ignored. Because according to Copyright laws within the US. A site doesn’t really have to take it down, it’s just one of those lovely ‘In Good Faith Act’ laws. If the site owners refuses, then he is aware that you the author are now free to pursue legal action against them. The book thief knows this, and he is laughing at ou because he knows you don’t have the money to pursue him. He was also smart and had his web site registered in a different country. One that doesn’t acknowledge US copyright laws. If we decide to take legal action and it just so happens that we have lots of money despite that we dont make a living wage when everyone is steling it, then we have to find the fucker, then have him served, then prove to a judge its our book, then we have to prove we did NOT give this person permission to up load it. Then they will say they didn’t someone else did, they just own the web site.
The few who do acknowledge the take are likely to put it back up the next day under a new link.
An author can spend an entire day sending out DMCA notices and never make a dent in the number of illegal downloads o their work. One author I spoke too was sending out a 100 per day for over a month before he gave up.
They’re coming up with all kinds of new loop holes to avoid the law right out in the open and authors are helpless to do anything about it. Oh sure we can bitch and whine on our facebook accounts, but it’s about as effective as a Canadian riot.
I wish I knew where all these downloaders lived. I’d drop by regularly so I could grab some groceries out of their fridge and siphon the gas from their truck into mine. That new bracelet they bought for their girl, yeah I’ll take that too. Oh and go ahead and toss me those new hitech boots, will ya?
I could go to the place where they work, eat at the restaurant they serve tables at and stiff them the check. Take their car and go on a road trip with my author hommes (we so need a paid vacation right now) I could hit the retail stores pick out what I need and wave to you as I walk out free of charge.
Scifi author Hugh Howey was supposedly quoted as having said: “Pirate sites are an author’s best friend, because it gets new author’s names out there to readers who would never otherwise learn about them. I say screw you, Howey. I give away countless free copies, but pirate sites take that choice away from me to where it’s not just a couple of freebies but they took our entire product away from me. So NO, it doesn’t help.
Talon and I have 15 titles out, presently. All 15 have been pirated, one got pirated by a review sight before it was released. (the books had been marked as reviewer’s copies, I wish now they had been numbered as well. I would have been able to pin point who did it). Another book got pirated while it was on preorder with Amazon. Review sites were not happy when I refused to send anyone a copy until after it was released because of the last book. It still got snatched. Amazon has still not admitted that their security system is farce. Both mine and Talon’s latest releases were pirated within four days after they went live on Amazon. Muse Me Only has been downloaded over 500 times over various sites and I have only sold 10 copies on Amazon. Howey’s flawed logic was based on a notion that if these downloaders liked the book they stole, they might look us up on Amazon and buy one of our other titles. but why should they when pirate site have made sure they keep a prolific supply of all the newest title releases. They already have everything Talon and I have publsihed so why should they go pay for anything? Once a lowlife always a lowlife. So what was that about being my friend?
Of course this article (rant) won’t really have a closing word either, because for authors, the battle of book theft is also unending. So I will leave you with one parting gift:
One of the internet’s largest copyright thieves, Pirate Bay’s founders are serving time for copyright infringement but the site continues to function and flourish (albeit they’re having some issue lately… awwww poor bastards).
(read about the latest news on this particular pirate site.. [here] and [here]
If you read the articles about Pirate Bay that’s just a sample of the efforts these sites go through to continue on with their agenda. Why? Because they make a good amount of money off the advertisers.
Here is where I have to quote the ingenious writing creativity of Josh Weldon here from a favorite television show Firefly: “If your ship goes to port make sure there is no port for it to go to.”
In other words if these pirate sites want to continue to give us the run around that they don’t actually host the file just the link, then they need to start giving up the source of the drug dealers or in this case the book files. We’ll gladly go after them. Next go after the advertisers. Because as we all know the law. If your get pulled over for a traffic violation but your passenger gets caught with drugs, your car get impounded and you might even go to jail as well, even though it’s not your drugs. A terrify tax might sound good too as well as forcing these sights to fork up some royalties, where they have the files on hand or not, they encourage others t bring the links to their site using torrent seeding so they can reap the benefits of it. THAT IS IN EFFECT USING MY BOOK FOR COMMERCIAL GAINS FOR THEIR SITE AND I AM OWED A FEE FOR THAT. The same way I pay a model to use his face on the covers of my books to help draw in readers to buy the book. My parting gft is offering you a way to reach out and personally thank Pirate Bay:
Anakata is still in jail as far as I can tell and since his fans have been so open about how he looks forward to mail, I have decided to share his info with everyone. I, too, am excited and plan to write him.
The last time I had checked before Pirate Bay went down Becoming His Slave was being shared by five different torrent members (this is on top of and after the 4 or 5 removed after a DMCA was turned in) and the book had been download some 14,975 times.
Becoming His Slave – 14,975 times – book sales price $7.99(present rate) = $119,650.25
A Place for Cliff – 7731 times- book sales price $5.99(present rate) = $46,305.69
Domming the Heiress – 4559 times- book sales price $5.99(present rate) = $27,308.41
Rough Attraction – 6511 times- book sales price $5.99(present rate) = $6,505.01
Quantum Mates – 8979 times- book sales price $2.99(present rate) = $26,847.21
Taking Over Trofim – 457 times- book sales price $5.99(present rate) = $2,737.43
Dominion of Brothers series package – 3118 times- set sales price $31.95(present rate) = $99,620.10
Bond of the Lycaon Concubine – 4408times- book sales price $0.99(present rate) = $4,364.92
That comes to a grand total of $333,339.02 and I get a typical 70% royalty cut, so I will be expecting a check for $233,333.11 soon.
(this is just the books loaded on the one site) and I will say it now if even a 5th of these downloaders had gone and bought out books I would be a happy happy author and not have to worry about if I will have enough money to buy groceries this month.
If by any chance a few attorneys happen to be reading this, I hope I have lit a match under your foot. While I am sure you may have given it some thought and you don’t need me to tell you how to do your job, and no I would not expect you to do your job for free either, still I am a creative writer and I know how to think outside the box. And if the key is to change the rules or cheat. As Mal would say: “There’s no such thing a an honest thief so there no honor to be lost in fight unfairly”.
So remember, downloaders, there IS a record of your online activity. Not only by your IP address, but you had to sign up for the torrent sites and they track you as well. Its only a matter of time before the law switches back to where your info becomes sourcable and authors and record companies can start sending you their bills once again. You might recall hearing something in the news ten years ago about teens getting exuberant invoices upward of 250,00.oo?
OH and authors, don’t forget to send a letter to Anakata
Pages or Words: 28,000 (Heart of Clay)
Categories: Contemporary/ Gay Fiction/ MM / Romance/ Some Paranormal.
Heart of Clay:
Seeing Clay there, sitting in the tall grass on the bench where they—he and his cousin Bobby—had first discovered him all those years earlier, sent Brad right over the edge. He’d been poised on that precipice all day, since he’d heard the rumors down at the gas station that not only had Clayton Merk come back to town to visit his grandparents at long last, but he’d brought a boyfriend with him.
Millie Atwatter seemed to take a great deal of venomous pleasure in sharing that little detail, even going so far as to describe the poor unfortunate soul—in her own words—though he couldn’t argue with that assessment. Anyone who loved Clay Merk was destined for misfortune.
His grip tightened on the hedge trimmers he’d planned to use to cut back low hanging branches of the old tree. If he didn’t make some effort with the ancient tree, this whole corner of his field would be full of rotting peaches half the summer. It was therapeutic when nostalgia overcame him to come down here and trim back the new growth. Usually he spent the time pretending that every twig he snipped was Clayton Merk’s neck…
Brad Jorgenson counseled teens against violence, against acting on the spur of the moment, but it was all he could do not to swing at the man with the heavy clippers.
“You still holding a grudge, Brad? I earned that slot as valedictorian. Not my fault you bombed the chem two final.”
The flippant, deliberate obfuscation was too much. As if having a GPA of one one hundredth of one percent less than this man fifteen years ago were the worst of the things that lay between them? If he were honest, seeing Clay was too much. He flung the clippers aside and launched himself over the fence, lunging to knock Clay off the bench. He couldn’t even claim he acted in the heat of the moment. “Fuck you!”
And still…after all these years Clay was capable of making him do things, say things he normally wouldn’t! His momentum carried them both over the back of the bench and into the tall grass, and Brad let his anger loose, the slow burning ember that had emerged from the ashes of his soul where he thought he’d buried it long ago.
Rolling and wrestling was tricky though, when Clay didn’t even bother to fight back. Eventually, his supposed opponent’s inertia sank through and Brad realized what he’d done. “I don’t give a damn about who graduated first in our class.” He lurched upright, propelling himself backward, glaring down at Clay, who pushed himself up on his elbows. “And that’s not what’s kept you from coming back here all these years either.”
A sneer twisted Clay’s full lips, “You think you kept me from coming back? Maybe you think I was afraid? You don’t know me, where I’ve been or what I’ve done. I had reason not to come around here, and it had nothing to do with you.”
The tiny kernel of truth in the barrage of lies stung. “Everyone in town knows what you’ve done and where you’ve gone, Clay.” And it wasn’t prison, which was where the majority of them thought he should have gone. “Your grandparents told us all of it. And I never presumed that your absence had anything to do with me, just as I knew your presence had nothing to do with me.”
His heart rate was slowing, cold sweat dampened his T-shirt. And with the fading of the heat, came the tangle of other emotions, disappointment, sorrow, grief. And lust, to his shame, reared its ugly head now as it had so long ago.
Clay Merk was even more sissified city boy now than he had been when he’d come out here all those years ago. His polo shirt had some kind of logo embroidered on it, but it stretched across broad shoulders and clung to thick muscles quite nicely, as did the knife-creased khaki shorts. He knew from their brief tussle that Clay was a little softer in the middle than he’d been as a high school athlete, but not enough to make him unattractive, not enough to counteract the effects of those deep blue eyes and that oh-so-tempting, lushly curved lower lip, damn it.
“You’re holding my grandparents’ gossip against me?” Clay sounded callous, scathing. “Well, the gossip goes two ways, you know.”
Words: 18,000 (Chance at Trust)
Categories: Contemporary / Gay Fiction / MM / Romance
Chance at Trust
Em looked up and didn’t see Joss or the barista, Penn, anywhere. A pretty black-haired girl with streaks of platinum white running through her thick locks now manned the open cash register.
Boy, that was just perfect. Even if Em didn’t plan to trust a man again—ever, which meant no relationship with a sexy as hell barista—it would’ve been nice to at least not look like a complete ass. But god, that was the first man in forever to make his body stand up and take notice. The dull throb in his jeans proved his erection didn’t give a damn that he acted the moron, it just wanted a shot to climb that mountain.
He sighed to himself. A long time ago he made peace with the fact that he’d be single the remainder of his life. After his abusive relationship with David ended two years ago, he knew that was it. Taking solace in the fact that he never loved David and hadn’t suffered from physical abuse didn’t alleviate the pain he’d incurred on a regular basis.
Though physical abuse was horrible in and of itself, Em could attest that mental and verbal abuse could cripple a person just as surely as a destructive blow to one’s head…the only difference was that you didn’t have a pretty scar to prove to the nonbelievers that it ever happened.
Yeah, he faced the doubters when he first escaped from David’s clutches. There were no visible scars and no trips to the emergency room photographed and documented in a neat little manila folder somewhere—so he wasn’t really abused, right? Most people thought it probably just resided in his mind—he was too sensitive or touchy to deal with David’s strong personality.
Em snorted when he remembered how one therapist actually used air quotes when mentioning David’s “strong” personality. That was when he gave up on therapy altogether.
It didn’t matter that every time someone raised their voice around Em, he shuddered and flinched, or when someone looked at him funny, the first thought that would pop into his head was that they were making jokes about him, talking about him behind his back, laughing at the worthless being he was.
Who cared that he muttered apologies left and right for things that weren’t his fault? He’d been conditioned to immediately appease anyone he might’ve offended. It all came second nature to him. He didn’t even realize when he would do it.
But most people would say those scars weren’t real. They didn’t matter.
But they mattered to Em. They were real to him. They were debilitating in his everyday life.
And that was why he would never allow another man close to his heart again. He built up some good sturdy walls and he stayed safely locked behind them. No one would ever be in a position to hurt him again…because if you didn’t allow yourself to feel then the hurt couldn’t reach you.
Heart of Clay:
Chance at Trust
The Twins: Talon ps & Princess so Interview Lee Brazil and Havan Fellows– 4/21/15
Lee: Good morning and thank you for inviting us to your blog. I’m Lee Brazil, multi-published author of m/m romance with Story Orgy and Pulp Friction. This is Havan Fellows, my very own muse, and fellow participant in both Story Orgy and Pulp Friction, whom I was lucky enough to stumble upon in my first few weeks on FaceBook way back when I was a green newbie to the world of writing and publishing. Since she’s put up with me this long, I figure we’re perma-attached at the hip.
Say hello to the nice people Havan.
Havan: *waves and smiles* Hello nice people
And now on to the questions…
What is for you the perfect book hero (for contemporary romances)?
Havan: I like when one of the main characters has enough patience and understanding to deal with everything that is thrown his way. Granted – that doesn’t equate to an easy HEA…they still have to go through the whole romance story gamut, but it helps. Oh and his eyes – gotta have good eyes…lol.
Lee: Oh… eyes. Yes, pretty eyes are a must, but so is intellect. I just love a hero with brains.
The days are 25 hours. How do you spent that extra hour?
Lee: At this exact moment? All I can think is that I’d spend it sleeping. With some Tom Petty playing in the background and my Great Dane curled up next to me…
Havan: Well when I hit hour number 24 I’d realize all I didn’t do yet and probably put on the speed to try and finish in that 25th hour. I’m an adrenaline junkie when it comes to deadlines…last minute work seems to pull the best from me. How sad am I?
Do you pay attention to literary criticism?
Lee: Well, that depends. I think it’s silly to place too much emphasis on what reviewers and critics say, but I do think it needs to be taken into consideration. Take it to heart, mull over it. Use what you can to improve your writing, and discard the rest.
Havan: Lee phrased that perfectly. I can’t say I don’t read the reviews (good & bad) because I do. I learn important things from both most of the time…but I can’t let the reviews sculpt me as an author…I still have to be true to my book and my writing style is just that, my style.
What is the book you would bring with you on a desert island?
Lee: John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. It’s got it all-
Havan: Well…this is a tough one, but my Edgar Allan Poe collection. Goodness knows I’ve never gotten through the whole thing no matter how much I want to, so maybe some time on a desert island would help me.
If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your first book?
Havan: I would and I did. When I got the rights back on my first book published (Harlan’s Ryde) I doctored it up some and had it re-edited before putting back on the market. Of course I didn’t change some of the scenes people complained about because those were integral for the story…but other things I smoothed out. That book is the type that people either love or hate – so there wasn’t any way I could please everyone on it…lol…but I was true to the characters.
Lee: Like Havan, my first book seems to be either loved or hated. I’d probably change all kinds of things if I ever got the time to re-write A Beautiful Silence, like maybe including Lex’s POV, but then… I was never certain that would be a good thing. I kind of like the mystery of not knowing what every person in a story is thinking. Seems more genuine that way at times. I mean, even after eighteen years together, I still find myself looking at my SO some days and wondering WTH is behind his actions.
If you could be a superhero what power would you want?
Lee: When I saw this question, I knew we had to answer it, not just for one of the blogs but for all of you. You see… our very next Story Orgy project… is a superhero story. The hero of my book has a pretty quirky talent, and despite his embarrassment over it, it does come in handy at times! As for me, if I had a talent, it would be something simple, like invisibility. Wouldn’t it be awesome to sit down and read a book, or write and not have anyone be able to see you? Because I tell you what, it seems like all people around here have to do is set eyes on me and whatever I’m doing gets set aside. Havan?
Havan: Ah yes…our Story Orgy superhero’s are not gonna be your run-of-the-mill type of heroes. But me…hmmmm…I’d like to be able to teleport. Imagine all the time I’d save in a day if I didn’t have to physically travel places. Want to see family that lives thousands of miles away…blink I’m there. Want to visit the highest plateau at the Grand Canyon…not a problem. See someone falling off the Eiffel Tower…teleport into their downward spiralling path, snatch them in your arms, and teleport to the nearest Paris bistro in time for an espresso. (okay…that one might be stretching it but hey! I’m a superhero here.)
Thanks again for listening to us and don’t forget to enter the Rafflecoptor drawing! We’ve got two $10 All Romance gift cards up for grab this tour!
About the authors:
Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it’s nevertheless one hundred percent true.
Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.
Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don’t belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don’t fit?
Someone hands you a book, and then you turn the page and see… There you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are…beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.
I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now. It’s why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it’s why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.
If I’d had my way, I’d have been a fencer…or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and I’ve come to realize that’s the best thing in the world to be, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.
If I hadn’t learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college…teaching…or writing.
I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called…edits.
Okay no, seriously…I’m a simpleminded person who enjoys the escape from real life through a book. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to continue doing so for a long time. I also am privileged to be with the Pulp Friction writers, creating intermingling books in a world all our own.
I recently took the drastic step of quitting my EDJ (evil day job) and am now living in the gorgeous desert in Arizona making a go at this writing stuff full time…and I can’t see me regretting this decision ever.
Just like every other red-blooded human—I get a little bouncy when I get mail (any kind too…email, comments, private messages…you wanna do it, do it with me *winks*). So feel free to drop me a line—whether it’s on my blog, twitter, Pinterest, or you track me down on Facebook or Google +…it’s easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.
Where to find the authors:
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/leebrazilauthor
Blog – http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com
Email – firstname.lastname@example.org
Twitter – @havanfellows
Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.com/havanfellows/
FaceBook – http://www.facebook.com/HavanFellowsauthor
Google + – https://plus.google.com/100539863028704367957/posts
Pulp Friction Love FB group – https://www.facebook.com/groups/369329926547263
Publisher: Heart of Clay: Lime Time Press, Chance at Trust: Appleton Publishing Avenue
Cover Artist: Laura Harner for both
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