I’m in the final editing stage for Waiting for the Son. It’s very exciting. I’m currently debating the whole “preorder” process. The last time I tried it, all of the preorders were lost and not recovered due to a glitch with the retailer.
Anyway, while I’m finalizing the book, I have returned to my playlist—songs that remind me of my hero or his story. Pull up a chair and your beverage of choice, and take a listen.
February is the month of love, isn't it?
When I write, I consider all types of love. Not just romantic love, like the hot, passionate love between Chey and Zander in House of the Rising Son. But also the love Chey has for his children, the "I'd give my life for you" love that parents have.
Then there is the love between friends. I say I love you to my friends regularly. I don't want them to doubt how much they mean to me. Although he has yet to say it, you know by his actions that Chey loves Consuela, drag queen and the nanny of his children, with his whole heart.
We love our families--and that holds different kinds of love. I love my mother deeply. I admire and am grateful for her strength. I wouldn't be the same person without her love. But I love my sister quite differently. She was my role model, my "true believer", and my first friend. Life without her is...not the same.
Chey hates his half-brother Richard, the torturer. Seriously. I don't use the "h" word lightly. But the love he had for his mother and the powerful love he received from her enabled him to move beyond the hate. He may never admit it, but he loves his sometimes controlling father, too. He's realizing his dad loves him the best way he can.
Our pets are often on the receiving end of our love, aren't they? They fill all the empty spaces in our lives and in our hearts. We feel their unconditional love . Toby likes to sleep on me, upside down. He hears my voice on the phone when I call my partner from the car, and stands in the window as I drive into the driveway. If that isn't love...
I also love potato chips, Prince, BTS, and the beach--an altogether different kind of love.
Love comes in many forms. We are fortunate in that way. May your February (and the rest of your life) be filled with an abundance.
Thanks for being here.
Although I don’t regularly frequent libraries anymore, they were a big part of my life. The library was one of the biggest and newest buildings in my hometime. I remember how it felt to walk thought the doors…and how it smelled. Like books!
My mom would take my siblings and I there when we were very young. I was hooked on old books like Miss Piggle-Wiggle books, Pippi Longstocking, and Nancy Drew. As I got older, I could get to the library by myself, and I read tons of books I probably shouldn’t have read. Rubyfruit Jungle, Helter Skelter, s a biography of Alice Cooper , and ALL of Gordon Merrick’s books come to mind. Of course, the book that had the greatest impact on me at that time was Interview with a Vampire. I still think of it as one of the most erotic books I’d ever read.
In college, the library was humongous. Tables with bankers lamps were everywhere. There was a section that had dim lighting and vending machines. Between school work and reading for the sheer joy of it, I practically lived there.
Reading was my escape. Libraries were my sanctuary. Happy National Library Lover’s Month
Today, I heard someone say that they know they lead a small life.
It was, in fact, the second time I’ve heard it. A character on a drama series also said it. The comment, so soft on the surface, hit me pretty hard both times. What might it mean, to live a small life?
I’m not going to say more about the real person who said it. That’s not fair. But it’s worth talking about the fictional person. Based on the rest of the story, the character seemed to mean that his life is unexceptional. Ordinary. He had a job as a salesman; he made a living, but he wasn’t close to being rich. He lived in a small apartment, had a couple of friends. He was, by all accounts, a good son, a great big brother, and a loving boyfriend. He meant he was neither a hero or a villain. He wasn’t part of the elite, nor was he a criminal (despite being surrounded by them).
But…
He was really good at his job. His boss valued his work and supported him during a difficult time. He loved and had a close relationship with his mother and his sister. His friends cared enough to defend him when the going got rough. His girlfriend loved him as completely and as deeply as he loved her. He fiercely protected his family, sometimes to his detriment.
He touched the lives of many people. He loved and was loved. Sounds like a colossal life to me.
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