A little quiet here in Casa Cameron
Sorry for the radio silence. I’ve spent the last couple of days watching the news about the Orlando shooting and having what I will politely term as “discussions” with people about why AR-15s do not belong in civilian hands. A word of warning; if you are someone who does believe that we all need assault weapons because of the people’s militia/Second Amendment/gotta protect myself from the government, please go away. I’m not interested in your Founding Father gun porn dreams about “good guys with guns.” And I will delete any comments to that effect.
While I didn’t lose a friend or loved on in the shooting in Orlando early Sunday morning, I do have friends who live there, ones whom I wasn’t sure hadn’t been at the club until they all checked in later that day. That is a sensation I would not wish on anyone. I can’t even imagine how it must have felt for the family members and friends who did have someone who had gone to Pulse that night, who were still waiting to find out whether or not that person was alive or dead.
49 of those families are now facing the task of burying a loved one. Claiming the body and arranging for a funeral is bad (and expensive) enough, but there’s all the other stuff that happens after someone you love dies. Cleaning out their home and trying to figure out what to do with their belongings. Finding a home for their pets. Closing out their social media accounts. Dealing with bill collectors wanting to know why the last credit card payment hadn’t been made (and suggesting that since you’re family, it’s your duty to take on that debt. Just so you know, you are not legally liable for a non-spousal loved one’s debt if you didn’t co-sign on it.)
These 49 families not only have to deal with all that, they have to deal with certain religious individuals (I won’t sully the title “pastor” by giving it to them) celebrating their loved one’s death and calling it “community service.” They have to deal with getting sucked into the ongoing debate about gun control. In a few cases, they have to deal with the fact that their loved one was gay and was too afraid to tell them.
I don’t even know where I’m going with this. All I know is that I’m sad and angry that 49 people were violently murdered by one small, vicious, self-hating person, and delighted as hell that Democratic representatives started shouting “Where’s the bill?” after yet another useless minute of silence, and that Democratic senators are even now filibustering in the Senate to demand new gun laws.
Sandy Hook. Virginia Tech. San Bernardino. Orlando.
Mass shootings like these don’t happen anymore in Canada, or Australia, or New Zealand, or the UK. They’ve got to stop here.
If you’re an American, please vote in November and help stop the next massacre before it happens.
And they wonder why “Big Publishing” is crumbling…
So I was reading an article at io9.com, as you do, about important SF books that lots of people pretend to read and never actually finish. As it turns out I’ve already read a number of them, so there, nyah, but I thought I would download some of the ones I haven’t read and take a crack at them (because I still write SF and fantasy when I get the time).
Headed over to the Big River, plugged in a title, and holy mother of Cthulhu. I’m sorry, and this is me speaking as an author, but ain’t no way I’m paying $15.99 for an ebook. I don’t care who wrote it or how important they are in the field. IT’S A ELECTRONIC FILE. Publishers don’t have to print, store, ship, or remainder ebooks. An ebook isn’t made from unicorn farts and fairy dust. IT’S A FILE.
What flavor of crack are the Big Five smoking, anyway? No wonder New York publishing is going straight to hell. They have no idea how to price their product so that people will buy. One of the biggest selling points about ebooks is that they lend themselves very well to impulse purchases. You can read about a book online, think, “Oh, that sounds interesting,” pop over to your favorite online retailer and have it downloaded to your reader in milliseconds, usually for the price of a Starbucks. No one blinks at a $3.99 ebook. $4.99 and $5.99 are starting to get up there, but are perfectly reasonable for longer works. If it’s an author I really like and want to read, I’ll go up to $8.99. Any higher, however, and I have problems rationalizing paying that much money for, say it with me, AN ELECTRONIC FILE.
And the worst part is, I have author friends who have been caught up in this egregious fuckup and are being dropped by their publishers because their “sales are too low.” Yeah, well, maybe if their publishers weren’t charging $11.99 for AN ELECTRONIC FILE those sales might perk up, hey?
In related news, it looks like I won’t be reading Gravity’s Rainbow, Dhalgren, or Infinite Jest any time soon. But I’m increasingly happy that I decided to switch to romance and be a hybrid author with a house that knows how to price its ebooks affordably.
80K to the Palace: Days Four Through Six
Sorry about that — I’ve been running around cooking and cleaning and critting and doing other stuff, and I completely forgot to update. My bad!
Days 4-6’s stats:
Words needed to stay on schedule: 7,998 words
Wrote: 8,337 words
Total word count: 16,532 words.
This is turning out to be even more fun than I thought it would be, which is good because fun = excellent word count. It’s nice seeing Danaë and Matthias six months on and settling in to life with each other, as well as their respective thrones. Now I just have to change the names up a bit because apparently some reviewers don’t know if I’m setting this in the real world or a made-up one because I’m using Greek and Belgian place names for Hellas and Ypres, and it’s confusing them.
Hint: magic users mean it’s a made-up world. Also, I was kind of in a hurry when I was writing the first book so I may have draped Belgium and Greece in fantasy garb and used them for settings. I’ll try to come up with more generic place names with Palace, I promise.
80K To The Palace: Days One Through Three
Remember my 83K or Bust marathon last September and October in order to get Empress of Storms done? That worked really well, didn’t it?
So I’m doing it again for Palace of Scoundrels. This one will be called 80K to the Palace, and the goal is to get the first draft done by July 4th, with publication ideally on July 19th. Technically it started on Sunday, so today (well, yesterday since I’m posting this on Wednesday) is Day 3. With a planned writing quota of 2,666 words a day, this should be relatively easy and give me room to finish other writing projects at the same time before they show up at my door with torches and pitchforks wanting to know where Cross Current and Do No Harm are.
Days 1-3’s stats:
Started With: 0 words
Words needed to stay on schedule: 7,998 words
Wrote: 8,195 words
Total word count: 8,195 words.
So I’m slightly ahead of the game, which is good. This, by the way, is going to be a bit more rom-com than Empress. There will still be magic, derring-do, and excitement, but there are also going to be some rather hilarious moments if things work out the way I want.
Well, well, well!
Would you just look at that!
Huge thanks to everyone who’s buying and enjoying Kel’s inaugural tale (and remember, reviews are love). I can tell you that J.T. is a VERY happy erotica writer right now, which is good because Valet’s Pleasure will be out on Tuesday and there is definitely a drive to keep this particular ball rolling.
I am grateful
An amazing number of things have happened to me professionally in the last two weeks things that have reinforced my decision to switch genres and start writing the stuff I always wanted to write. I am deeply grateful for all of these wonderful opportunities, and I want to thank each and every one of you who read my work because you’re the reason why so many good things are happening right now. You people rock.
- May 8th I signed a contract with Me and the Muse Publishing to have Trickster translated and published in German.
- May 15th held three important career milestones for me:1) For the first time in my writing career I cracked the five figure mark in writing income.
2) I cracked the five figure mark for yearly writing income.
3) I made five figures (oh, screw it — $10,000) on one title. And yes, it was Empress of Storms.
- May 16th I signed a contract with Juno Publishing to have Empress of Storms translated and published in French.
- May 18th I signed a contract with photographer Javier Cortina to use a photograph of Colby Keller from Javier’s The Legend of St. George photo shoot as the cover for my fantasy historical M/M romance The Chevalier, coming out in August.
On the verge of turning 50, I feel like my life and career are truly on track, and I’m very excited to see what the next few years bring.
Marvelous Monday Reads: Pharaoh’s Pleasure
Hello, angels, and welcome to yet another week. Let’s kick it off with newly minted M/M erotica writer J.T. Handler (I swear, I love this crazy goof — it’s like we’re twins or something) and the kickoff book in a hot, hilarious new M/M series that cheerfully romps through time in search of historical mysteries and babelicious guys (seriously, my SF writer heart is squeeing at the thought of this). I speak, of course, of the fast, funny, and pyroclastically sexy Pharaoh’s Pleasure (Pleasures in Time #1). I also know that PiT #2, Valet’s Pleasure, will come out next Monday, with a new release scheduled for each Monday running through May and June. Read on and enjoy!
Hunky grad student Kellen Fox is screwed. Forced by his horndog employer to finish a museum exhibit in a single night (or else), he stumbles across a spell hidden in a carved scarab. Little does he know that reading the spell aloud will summon the gorgeous 17th Dynasty pharaoh Senekenre from ancient Egypt.
As it turns out, Kel is the only one who can help Senekenre with a delicate problem regarding his ability to sire an heir. Kel’s more than happy to lend a hand (among other things), but rendering this assistance may well change Kel’s life forever.
Story Excerpt
Kel’s mouth went dry. “Wait. You’re telling me this Amhemnet guy used magic to send you to another time? To this time?”
Senekenre nodded. “Yes, thanks to you. I take it you invoked the spell?”
“If you mean I read it out loud, yeah. I didn’t know it was a spell.” Swallowing hard, Kel forced himself to reach out and touch Senekenre’s arm. It was warm under his fingertips. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, yanking his hand back. “I’m not hallucinating. You’re real. You’re really here!”
“Yes, I know.” Senekenre came closer. At this distance, Kel could see the dark hint of stubble under the other man’s tan skin, as well as a small scar along his jawline. “You thought I was a dream, young scholar?”
“Uh, yeah.” The logical part of Kel’s brain screamed at him to step back, get the hell away from the exhibit space and its time-traveling visitor. The rest of his brain wanted to ogle Senekenre’s broad shoulders, cut abs, and sleekly muscled legs. “I mean, we don’t get a lot of visitors from the 17th Dynasty, you know?” He realized how idiotic he sounded and flushed. “I’m sorry. This is all a big shock to me. Could we start over again, sir? Your majesty? Sire?”
“Sire will do, young scholar.” Senekenre’s head tilted to one side, openly considering him. “But what land is this, that produces such beautiful men?”
Kel’s pulse sped up at the pharaoh’s jaw-droppingly sexy smile. Aaaand the long-dead pharaoh is flirting with me. Holy shit. He couldn’t remember anything in the research materials about Senekenre being gay or bi, but that didn’t make it impossible, either. “Uh, you’re in the United States of America, sire. It’s a country far to the west of your kingdom, across a large ocean. It didn’t exist in your time.”
“Oh. And are all the men here like you?” Senekenre said, reaching out to stroke the line of Kel’s jaw. “Such pure, smooth skin, and your hair, the color of a winter sunset. If you were of my time, I would make you a member of my court, simply so that I could look upon you every day.”
Kel licked dry lips, willing his cock to behave itself. “Just look?”
Senekenre smiled. “Hmm. Perhaps … kiss?” He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Kel’s.
Where To Buy
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
All Romance eBooks
About J.T. Handler
J.T. Handler was born on an off ramp of the information superhighway and chewed through the chain link fence in order to wander up and down Al Gore’s creation. Having spent the bulk of childhood determined to become a neurosurgeon, J.T. quickly realized in college that an inability to pass Organic Chem would make acceptance to med school problematic. The siren song of the English Literature major soon called and J.T. answered with a vengeance, taking up the mantle of the fiction writer. A joker, a smoker, a midnight toker, J.T. loves the open road and all the characters met along the way.
I never actually told you about the cover, did I?
D’oh. So a couple of weeks ago an insanely talented Spanish art photographer named Javier Cortina did a most spectacular photo shoot of Our Man Sans Culottes entitled The Legend of St. George (click this link to see NSFW pics). And lo, L.D. Blakeley and I did squeal about the beauty of said pics, until I said the fateful words, “That second pic, the closeup where he’s holding the sword — that would make an awesome book cover, don’t you think?”
“I do! You should contact Javier and see if you can license it!” she enthused.
“No, I can’t do that. Can I?”
Suffice it to say that an hour later I’d fired off an email to Javier asking him if he ever licensed his photographs. It turned out he did, and we’ve negotiated a deal for me to use the picture as a book cover. Herein lies a story; Javier, quite reasonably, asked me what the book was about, to which I replied, “Um…”
*thinks frantically about picture*
“…it’s about…”
*pounds head against wall until something shakes loose*
“…it’s about a fantasy world loosely based on 17th Century France where an impoverished nobleman joins the royal guard as an officer and promptly gets embroiled in palace intrigue after he discovers the handsome young man he was flirting with at a masked ball is the Crown Prince, who is being blackmailed by a foreign ambassador. I’m calling it The Chevalier.”
I swear to God, I have no idea where this stuff comes from.
And She Returns…
My goodness, I haven’t posted anything since before RT, have I? Bad romance writer, NO new MacBook Pro!
No, seriously, no new MacBook Pro. I was going to buy one this weekend with my royalties because my existing laptop is 1) over eight years old and 2) was a refurb when I bought it, but as it turns out I need to use my income for other writing-related expenses — namely, a cover (more about that later), sponsorship and attendance for Wild Wicked Weekend, and to pay off my half of an upcoming trip.
So the new laptop will have to wait another month. Which sort of sucks, but that’s adulting for you.
Anyway, back to RT — I decided to drive from Dallas to Vegas instead of flying because I was in the mood for a roadtrip (and er, I had a lot of shit to bring). Said road trip was gorgeous, and I learned that it is geographically noticeable when you cross from Texas into New Mexico and New Mexico into Arizona. At the TX/NM border the landscape immediately changes from flat plains to gorgeously colored mesas, and at the NM/AZ border it immediately turns into scrubby desert with the occasional mountain until you get to Flagstaff, at which point you’re definitely in the mountains. Lovely, and I’d like to do it again with Ramón if possible.
Vegas itself is the neon-lit adult funland that it’s always been, so no real news there. The Rio was perfectly serviceable as a hotel, although I did hear that the route from the hotel rooms to the conference area was referred to as “the Hallway of Doom” due to its distance. Let’s just say that I hit 10K steps on four different days and leave it at that. Much fun was had with the lovely LD Blakeley as my roommate, and we attended some nifty panels, hung out with great folks like Kenna Nauenberg and Alex Gordon, and of course attended the amazing Cirque du Punk party on Friday night.
Kenna, LD, and myself. I was yelping, “I have a waist, I have a waist!” when LD was lacing me up.
Lady Amphitrite before the nails and corset went on, because those were saved for last, you betcha.
Two erotic romance writers loose in Vegas. I’m surprised we didn’t get into more trouble.
Competing in the CdP costume contest (picture courtesy of Michael Patrick Gleason). I cannot adequately express how much I love this costume.
The other big event of RT for me was the Book Fair on Saturday. I didn’t sell a lot, but I did get to see sights like this:
My life is so hard.
Sunday was spent tidying up, trying to get everything packed (or in LD’s case cursing UPS for their extortionate charges to ship stuff to Canada), and hanging out with fellow Evernight author Khloe Wren and awesome cover model Michael Gleason:
After this LD and I looked at each other, said, “Let’s get out of the hotel for a bit,” and went for a cruise up and down the Las Vegas strip during which we spotted many crimes against good taste, what we suspect is a genuine murder hotel, and a gigantic and truly scary gift shop.
The next day I dropped LD off at the airport and headed home (including a white-knuckle drive during a severe thunderstorm in the Texas Panhandle) to get back to work on all the WIPs I need to finish toot sweet. I also tried to finish a short story for Evernight’s Dark Captive anthology, but the damn thing blew up on me and turned into a short novel. So, um, yeah, look for Do No Harm this summer from Belaurient Press!
In other publishing news, I sold the German language translation of Trickster to Me and the Muse Publishing in Germany, I’m currently waiting on a decision from Juno Publishing in France as to whether they want to publish Empress of Storms in French, and a very good friend of mine will be releasing a hot and hilarious new M/M erotic novelette on Tuesday which I will be helping out with on promo (trust me, you want to read this). The current work queue includes (counts on fingers) Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4), Behind the Iron Cross, Prince of Scoundrels (Two Thrones #2), Do No Harm, and Trickster: All In. That should be enough to keep me going for a couple of months, don’t you think?
Marvelous Monday Reads: Clouded Hell
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring J.R. Gray and his deliciously depraved new erotic romance, Clouded Hell. Take it away, J.R.!
I survive on avoidance. Physical pain to avoid the mental. Disposable flesh to avoid relationships. Work to avoid attachment. My club became my empire of avoidance. Inside the ring millions are won and lost. The fight is confined to breaths, actions and reactions, fists and pain. Rules don’t exist. Only my opponent exists.
I’d been avoiding my needs for far too long when Remi stumbles into the Inferno and I’m hungry. The promise of a submissive with no attachment is far too tempting. I can’t resist him. He was only supposed to be a distraction, but I know I’ll never get over him. There isn’t a chance in this clouded hell.
Story Excerpt
If I hadn’t seen the video of the fight, I wouldn’t have believed it. I clicked the button on my laptop to rewind it, to see the way his body moved. I gripped myself through my shorts and glanced over at Kai. He was busy inking a full back piece, and I doubted he’d even take a break for another hour. He couldn’t see me from where I sat. It would be so easy.
I trailed my fingers over the places Dante had left marks. I could almost taste them, even if the bruises had faded. I’d looked at them in the mirror over my bed and fucked my hand every night since I’d left. I groaned as I slipped my hand into my shorts.
I squeezed my shaft, digging my nails into the sensitive skin. I had to bite back a hiss of pain. Kai could easily walk out and see me. The rooms in the shop were three-quarter walls to divide the space with wide open doorways. Maybe I wanted to be caught. I kicked my feet out, watching a bead of sweat drip down Dante’s neck. When he threw a punch his muscles tightened, and it took me back to him swinging his belt. The sound of his fist hitting flesh was close, so close, to the way the leather sounded against mine.
I shouldn’t be imagining him touching me, but it was impossible not to. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to mark me with them. I was hit with the sudden realization he’d been acting when he was in the ring with me. He hadn’t even gone at half speed. He was a monster when he fought. It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from getting up and into my Jeep to drive to the airport.
I used my free hand to unbutton my shorts and slide down my zipper, freeing my cock.
Where to Buy
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Print
Goodreads
About J.R. Gray
When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.
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Nicola Cameron Writes 