A painful (and sometimes funny) thing about writing is that it often involves stabbing your imaginary friends in the back, often just when you’ve let them find a moment or two of happiness. Ending a scene in a book on a happy sigh does not inspire a reader to turn to the next chapter. It inspires them to put it down and go to sleep and dream happy, porny things. (Oh, is that just me? Carry on then.)
The fact is, happiness is boring. Even happy couples spar. People often ask me to write more of Joey and Aaron. (Below I have a link to a free short story to whet your appetite for But My Boyfriend Is which will be out next Tuesday, August 21.) The thing is, in order to write a whole novel about them, I’d have to give them a novel worth of conflict, something that couldn’t be resolved with a talking and sex. I’d have to really stab them hard, in the heart. Make them hurt. Break them up.
If I don’t at some point in my book say, “Oh shit, I’ve just totally fucked this up. I can’t fix this for them. I’m not sure it’s ever going to work out!”, how can I keep a reader wondering the same thing. How can I convince you that there’s a reason to stay up and read the next chapter before the aforementioned dreams?
I’ve done horrible things to unsuspecting characters, and in But My Boyfriend Is (which HEY, is available for preorder at Samhain or Amazon or Barnes & Noble or wherever you like to buy ebooks) I did some pretty mean stabbing. I kicked my characters when they were down, ripped away what they’d always counted on, what they thought they could trust. This being an author thing puts blood on your hands. Sometimes more than figuratively. But you’ll have to read But My Boyfriend Is to find out what I mean.
FREE short featuring Joey and Aaron from Collision Course. It ends just as But My Boyfriend Is starts. (Hey, don't say I never gave you anything. *winks* It's not even my birthday.)