There. That's a title to conjure with, on oh so many levels. Never say I don't put some kind of effort into this writing lark, ho ho. Anyway, here's this week's news so far - my first few days of being 46, you know.
A Dangerous Man which has been created by Scot D. Ryersson - what a genius. It's incredible and I really love it. Thank you, Scot. I'm very fond of the original one too, of course, but this seems to be perfectly suited for the times now and, hey, it's always good to have choices. I love it.
In terms of recent reviews, I'm pleased that literary short, Dancing with Lions, has gained a very enthusiastic 5-star review at Goodreads - many thanks for that, Rick. And it's a particular pleasure as it's this story's first review. I was starting to think nobody had much time for a Biblical historical and feminist perspective on King David, so nice to know I was wrong, tee hee. Let the women of the Bible loose is what I say - there's much modern value in them.
I'm also happy that the lovely Stephanie Watson has given The Secret Thoughts of Leaves a 4-star review, and also given a 5-star review to The Girl in the Painting - gosh, thanks, Stephanie! You read at a rate even faster than mine - do you not allow time to breathe?!...
Finally, in the reviews section, Martin and The Wolf and Angels and Airheads both received a very kind mention at Tam's Reads - thank you, Tam! Though I do think that your admission that you appear to be on an "Anne Brooke diet" in terms of reading is scary for you and I believe I know a doctor who can help ... Lord H at least has every sympathy for your predicament.
Keeping to the subject of reviews, my take on Malcolm Pryce's Last Tango in Aberystwyth can be found at Vulpes Libris today. It's the first in my Happy Reads series of reviews for the Book Foxes, and isn't really an auspicious start, I fear. I'm hoping for better things.
In terms of current works, I've sent the final edits for Tuluscan Six and the Time Circle back to Amber Allure Press, and that's due out on 18 July. And, in a truly miraculous feat, I have forced myself back into the game (steady, people, steady ...) in respect of actually writing more of The Executioner's Cane. A bit of a shocker that, as I'd all but forgotten what the hell was going on and what the characters were like. Hmm, still don't know really. It took a while to get into it again this morning (lots of sighing, playing on the computer, mad displacement activity and groaning etc etc, but then again that is usual for me ...) but yes I've done 1000 words. Phew. Ye gods and little fishes, Lord knows what the scribe thinks he's up to now but I suppose it must be something. Probably another month before I hit the dang thing again then at this rate. Hey ho.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Martin and The Wolf is now available at Amazon Kindle, and there's still time to win a free copy (hurrah!) at the Dancing Dove competition - it ends on 25 June (tomorrow) so best to rush!
I'm also delighted to say that I've joined the GLBT Author and Reader Yahoo Group, which looks a great place to be. So if you read or write GLBT fiction, do pop along for a visit. I'm especially pleased with my fun new Fiction Photo Album, which brings together all my gay fiction in one place. Not sure if you can see that unless you join as Yahoo in many respects remains a mystery to me but, believe me, it's worth the 10 seconds it will take to apply for membership, honest! And you get to meet lots of really lovely people who are far, far less scary than me, so what are you waiting for?...
I have time for a life?? Well, goodness me, who'd have thought it. I must squeeze it in somehow (as it were) between crazed book work. Anyway, my birthday (I'm 46 now, don't you know - have I mentioned that already?) was fab-u-lous, in all respects, and I received some lovely presents from Lord H, and some totally strange presents from Mother. As usual. Bless. Still, I admit that though, at first, I laughed at her floral open-toed slippers gift (Mother has always bought presents for the lovely, fluffy, girly daughter she really wanted but, sadly, didn't get ...), now in this heat I can't take them off. Even to go outside. I am softening towards them and wearing them even as I'm typing this. Perhaps in the end, Mother will indeed get the daughter of her dreams, and Lord H will hurtle off into the sunset wondering where the off-kilter, kick-ass woman that he married went to ... Um, here's hoping not, please God! On all counts. Anyway, one of Lord H's gifts was a wonderful summery, dark blue dressing gown that is just what I wanted, as all my dressing gowns - Lordy, is that sad that I have several?? - are way, way too wintery. I am wearing it all the time too - with the slippers. Never say I am not stylish.
And it was a good job I had such a fabulous time on Monday, as Wednesday was UTTER crap, I must say. Depression City all round - exhaustion, heat, PMT big-time all came together to create the World's Weepiest Wife all day, dammit and big groan. It was soooo bad that I took 2 St John's Wort pills, 2 calming pills, a herbal sad person's pill and some Rescue Remedy spray. Still didn't work but at least I rattled a lot, so people could tell I was coming and still have time to escape. Weird how today all that crap has gone and I feel fine again. I am indeed a slave to my hormones, sigh. Thank God that's over for another month.
All of which is probably something similar to what those astonishing and surely exhausted Wimbledon players must be feeling after yesterday's game. Ye gods, but it's made tennis interesting again - and you must read the article in the link as it's laugh-out-loud good, even if you're not a tennis fan. Which I'm not any more, but both Lord H and I wonder if the match will ever end as it enters its third day. Gosh! Don't they have homes to go to, and how do those two men keep standing at all? Though let's not go into the mysteries of how the umpire managed to go so many hours without a courtesy break ... scary biscuits indeed.
Here are a couple of meditation poems to keep us all going:
whose spear has a shaft
as thick as the bar
on a weaver’s loom
probably didn’t reckon
on such a brief mention
or on meeting his fate
quite so terribly soon.
After the battle
comes the poetry
full of glory
but I think
skipping the massacre
and going straight
to the music
The Prayer Seeker's Journal