If you pride yourself on being liberal there comes a time when the biggest elephant you have ever seen will walk across your living room, out into the hall, into the kitchen and then simply refuse to leave. It will stamp its foot until your whole house shakes and threatens to cave in around you. You will try to ignore it and for a while it will sit and pout but it is doing more than sulk. Have you ever tried not to see it? The more you try, the more visible it becomes and the bigger it grows. In fact, there is no escaping that elephant even if you are a conservative by nature because it is an elephant that attempts to turn the tables on its trainer whatever their political views.

Who is the trainer? The trainer is YOU. The elephant wants to be invited to dinner. It wants to sit down with your family and friends and eat you out of house and home. It wants to trample on your goodwill and turn your comfortable values into one steaming mess of elephant dung and it does so by constantly reinforcing the idea that you can’t be one thing if you are to actively embrace another. The elephant in the room is born out of the nature of the herd and its need to agree on all things for the sake of survival. It looks innocent enough, but it wants to suppress sensible discussions and once it has destroyed your tidy living room and broken down your door it invites its nasty friends in to pillage your world.

The elephant in the room

So who is that elephant anyway? The easiest way I can describe it is by its actions and effects on otherwise reasonable human beings. The elephant will claim to be tolerant of something meaningful to you, such as being LGBTQIA. Then it will say:
“If you are L, you shouldn’t like B or T. If you are B, you must be confused or dishonest. If you are T you are not a real person. If you are A you have to be in the closet.”
Or it may say:
“You cannot possibly believe in God if you are any of the above,” or “there is no such thing as a practicing homosexual Christian.”
The elephant will bring its great weight to bear on issues of human rights and try to make you forget one colossal abuse of human rights by saying the once abused race are now even worse abusers of yet another race. The truth of the matter is that two wrongs never cancel each other out but the elephant does not want you to see that truth, the elephant wants to divide so that those less reasonable can more easily take power.
The elephant lives on a diet of maxims and manifestos. It thrives on causing division and chews up real people so they can more easily be used as cannon fodder to fight battles that benefit nobody except those who profit financially from violence and warfare. It claims to be tolerant but is actually very intolerant, it claims to be peaceful but invites conflict at every turn even in the name of peace.
So next time you are entertaining guests or enjoying the company of like-minded friends at the local ale-house and one of them invites the elephant in what will you do?

Advertisements

me_from_poetry_books

Ok, I admit it. This title is a little tongue in cheek. I was thinking more of the drawbacks of multi-genre authorship but I wanted you to read beyond the title. Come to think of it, that is always a good idea. Any author who has ever done a giveaway or a free book promotion will understand why we want you to do just that. I have talked previously about my “tribe” on Twitter. These are nice people, writers, musicians and artists who share work with their followers. We don’t all write, paint or play in one style. If we did, the world would be a poorer place. Whatever the genre, I share because I appreciate the writer. Sometimes I will have read and loved a story or its style. At other times, I may not have read the story but I know the person behind it. I might be sharing an erotic story, a space opera or a book about finding God and when I share that story I know people will follow me because I shared it. I don’t always know the motives but I trust that they will not be unkind.

The same goes for books as for people. Please don’t believe that because you enjoyed some erotic content in one book that my others will necessarily contain something similar. Whether I am writing poetry or fiction my deeper concerns might be love, but that is not necessarily erotic. If you buy Pussy’s Little Problem it is NOT porn, it is a manual on toilet training cats with a problem. On Wenlock Edge 100 Years On is not a period drama, it is a study of the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams with musical examples. A sweet romance like Coming Home For Christmas will NOT include sex scenes; it is a clean read. That is what sweet romance means. The Cougar contains several explicit love scenes but although it has an F/F relationship at its heart it also contains other relationships and you will need to be accepting and broadminded to appreciate it.

I don’t want to upset anyone. Honestly! I would only ask that before you read the word “FREE” and get all excited, you actually read the description. I really don’t want to raise your expectations and a “sweet lesbian romance” is not going to provide one-handed reading for a single bloke who enjoys explicitly sexual lesfic and goes on to award me a 1* rating, nor are my books either man-free or LGBT-free. I certainly won’t countenance bi-erasure. I haven’t felt the need to turn my hand to Christfic yet but I don’t rule out any inspiration, whatever the source. Life just is, in all its variation and splendour, man is as God made him but just a little bit worse, that goes for women too. I know.

Love just is…

crofetr cover

Kirstie is just so annoying at times, isn’t she? How can she not know her best friend Jeannie loves her to pieces? She hangs on her every word and doesn’t dare to criticise her even when she makes a fool of herself by marrying way beneath her station. Mind you, Kirstie is not the only annoying woman round here. I can be pretty annoying myself, especially when I persist in making life complicated for my poor long-suffering characters. I can’t help it though – it goes with the territory. Well? Life is complicated. It was for me anyway…

A highland wedding is an unusual start for a lesfic novel, I grant you, but all is never as it first seems, I promise. Kirstie proves an easy target for a silver-tongued and handsome young Highlander despite the obvious class difference between them and the hard life that lies ahead for her as a crofter’s wife. It was all an innocent and romantic dream for the lass. But marrying a Jacobite? What on earth possessed her to do that? Was she rebelling against her strict Protestant father? Did she already suspect that her wicked Uncle Malcolm might have secret plans for her at that point? Who knows?

Our pretty highland lassie certainly doesn’t have a clue and yet Jeannie stands by the girl she loves through thick and thin, tolerating verbal abuse and emotional ignorance and constantly hiding her feelings. Jeannie isn’t destroyed by her unrequited love though and she is nobody’s fool either. Kirstie on the other hand seems totally unaware of the havoc she is causing in Jeannie’s life. What an unholy mess! Here we have Robbie destroyed by Angus’s insane jealousy; Kirstie destroyed by Robbie’s foolhardiness; Jeannie wounded by Kirstie’s lack of understanding and Angus devastated by Jeannie’s rejection. All this is set against a historically accurate background of politics and intrigue, war and genocide. How will it all end? You will have to read A Crofter’s Tale to find out. Please do – it’s free with Kindle Unlimited.

whitby 123

A writer is a dreamer who needs space to dream and sometimes the reality of modern day publishing gets in the way. This is true whether one is self-published or published by one of the very many small presses that specialise in particular genres. These days an author constantly needs to push their own agenda, recommend their own books and those of their associates, attend conferences and conventions and be an expert social mover and shaker. Every day I see examples of excellent but introverted writers struggling constantly while the more pushy ones squeeze them out. Whether it is done consciously or unconsciously I honestly do not know but writers do tend to run in packs. My Twitter pack is a multi-genre pack full of generous and sensitive individuals who are non-judgemental, not genre or publisher biased, and share each other’s posts. I am so glad of it. Without my pack on Twitter I could so easily drown. As it is I can barely keep my head out of the water.

Now in some respects I am a little bit of a rarity amongst writers. Not because I am some sort of special snowflake (I know my limitations and they are Legion), or because I am a multi-genre and cross-genre perpetrator (lots of writers are), and not even because I am also a musician (although it is hard to serve two Muses) but because I put my own name on everything I do. Yes, that’s right. My name. I don’t hide my gender behind vague initials or change my name from book to book in case somebody who enjoys one title hates another and feels betrayed. I am not ashamed to be a poet, to write scifi, horror and romance, to include sweet romance and honest steamy sex scenes, I have a mix of LGBT and straight. I am not ashamed of my music either. It is a part of my soul. I write because I feel driven to and I compose for the very same reason.

Despite all that, I am still an introvert and a neurodiverse one at that, being mildly autistic. I hate social occasions. I can only cope in small gatherings unless I am deliberately putting on a show. Then character takes over. It just doesn’t feel comfortable to move around a room pressing hands and making small talk. My best friends and the people I talk to most are my cats. My wildest parties are held on Twitter; openly, in the morning with the news or Victoria Live on the TV or in the evening with Star Trek reruns, my favourite one-starred disaster movies, Casualty or Holby City. I confess I am a bit of a geek. I enjoy science – one of my short stories actually opens with a description of an atomic explosion – and I love doing the research for my stories. It doesn’t all go in of course but I probably err on the side of too much at times.

I don’t really know why I am writing this post except that I do wish self-promotion wasn’t such a “thing” in this world we live in – especially in the arts – schmoozing should not be the artist’s most important weapon but I know I am fighting a lost cause. I do wish readers were the ones to propose books for awards, not authors, and that readers would vote for them, not authors but again, why should they? It is not the norm. It probably never was. OK, I will go back to my lair and hide away for a bit longer; then there’s a grain-free cake to bake, cats to feed and a happy life to live. Have a beautiful day.

This is a post that has been decades in the making. In my lifetime equality issues have made huge strides to the extent that gay and lesbian friends are very much out and part of everyday life. I am less sure about how those friends who are transsexual feel and to be honest the extent of biphobia and bi-erasure from those who should know better never ceases to amaze me. I decided quite early in my writing career to follow the principle that “love just is” and I have never excluded relationships that I felt were germane to the characters in a story. For this reason, I believe I am struggling to find any sort of audience. There are those who would say to me something along these lines:

1. “I can’t buy / read / share your WW2 novel because it has women like that in it.”

2. “Why does everything have to contain lesbians or gays these days?”

3. “There never used to be so many of them. The world is becoming so wicked.”

On the other hand, I also get:

1. “Why did Midge have to marry a man before she discovered herself?”

2. “I wish there were no straight sex scenes in your novel, you know. Without those is would be really good.”

3. “Why did your story have so many men in it? Was that really necessary?”

To me, neither of these attitudes addresses the real problem of bi-erasure, straight-erasure or the LGBT-erasure we (wrongly) assume is over and done with. People who buy books want to look through rose tinted spectacles at a world where any of the following apply:

1. LGBTQIA people do not exist; or only exist on the periphery as sad or comic characters.

2. Men in lesfic – or women in M/M romance – do not play any role in the story, other than a minor part if absolutely necessary.

3. Characters are exclusively gay, lesbian or straight, nobody is ever confused and bisexuality is a wicked perversion that endangers everyone who is actually honest with themselves.

Sadly, my books do not conform to these straitjacketing norms and for that reason I now know that they will probably not be enjoyed by many readers, LGBTQIA or straight, within my lifetime. I have worked so hard over the last five years or so and yet I am still very much on the fringe and at this point in time I am seriously thinking of giving up creative writing altogether and going back to the less frustrating business of composing music.

You know, in my stories, I try my best to make the love scenes open, honest and tasteful; please note I said love. I am not in the business of writing erotica; too many people already do it far better than I ever could. I would just like to find a few more tolerant and open-minded readers who don’t fall into either of the above two categories though. I would like to find some readers who can accept that LGBT characters existed and had (albeit closeted) normal lives before 1970 and others who can accept that their own liberation includes recognising that we are not stereotypes. Real people are not all the same – black or white, hetero-exclusive or homo-exclusive, recognisable genre tropes in day to day existence – nor should we be. My relationships are not second class relationships, either in real life or between the pages of my novels.

Rant over.

Love just is.

crofetr cover

In 1978 my father decided on a family move to the Scottish highlands. My sister and I were at University by then and so the disruption was to be fairly minimal. I lost touch with a few school friends but that was because I failed to keep in touch. I did not enjoy writing letters and was a little phone-phobic so I lived in the present, as I always had done in the past as an RAF brat, and just made new friends. It did mean that vacations involved a long train journey home of course but Scotland proved a wonderful place. I took long walks in the forest, swam in the Spey and worked part-time in a local hotel and in my father’s shop. We were regulars on the Whisky Trail and after so many talks on how whisky is made I feel I could nearly build my own distillery. The prize for listening was always a wee dram at the end and I grew fond of malt whisky, particularly the Spey malts which are mild, warm and fruity rather than sweet, smoky and peaty like the Islay malts my late father loved.

Anyway, I digress (because I like whisky so much). From being a little put out at the move, I became very fond of our new home and I can smell the clean air to this day in my memory. If you have never been to the Scottish highlands and you prefer wide open spaces to clubbing and city excitement, do go there please. You will love it. It must have made quite an impression on me as I found myself returning there again and again in my mind’s eye as I wrote A Crofter’s Tale. This started as a short story, written following a request from Jewels some twelve years ago. Looking back on it, it was a sweet little story but I lacked the confidence to make much more of it at the time.

Now, having published one not particularly great novel (that seems to be either loved or detested) and another more middle of the road novel that I am actually quite proud of, it seemed it was time to take the original story to its conclusion and I worked very hard on it. I researched the Jacobite Memoirs to learn about the rebellion from first source and I read a biography of the Duke of Cumberland for balance. I steeped myself in the Victorian genre too because I wanted an antiquated eighteenth century feel to the language.

Meanwhile the original story line expanded to include a truly black-hearted villain and also the political intrigues that led to Bonnie Prince Charlie’s downfall and the dreadful aftermath of Culloden. (Drummossie Moor is one of those places you won’t forget easily, by the way. It is so empty and bleak even now. I stood there and felt I could almost hear the screams of the massacred men. I wouldn’t want to spend a night alone there and remembered my father saying how Belsen had encroached on him in a similar way in the 1950s – a bleak place, where even the birds refused to sing). So, I approached the historical scenes with an eye to accuracy, using descriptions of the times wherever I could, particularly with Lord George Murray. For some, that might be dry but I found it necessary to understand the times and the events better.

There is nothing new in any of that of course but one thing struck me in my reading that I felt I needed to address. That is the issue of stereotypes. My story is different because it has a lesbian romance at its heart but that is not the only difference. I wanted to build on characters and on a way of life now lost to us. I wanted to have earthy, ordinary characters. The original Jacobite novels and the modern highlander take-offs I have read usually have big similarities – they focus on the rich, noble and powerful players in life and ordinary people, if they do appear at all, tend to be rogues or beggars who speak in unintelligible dialect. You won’t find much of that in A Crofter’s Tale. They speak more eloquently than we do because the 18th century was a time when most people did speak well. There is a tiny bit of Gaelic and a few expressions common in Scots English but apart from the Burns poem I quote at the beginning there is no heavy dialect.

Anyway, A Crofter’s Tale is out there in the wild, yours for the taking so to speak. You can read it for free on Kindle Unlimited, it’s on Kindle and published also in a clear print paperback edition. I hope you do give it a chance and I hope you will enjoy it.

Carol, a good film, a great read

Incredible. Don’t you feel a bit silly when you sort of half see a film between shifts in the kitchen and think I must read that book? I know I do, because it seems as if you are being led by advertisers to the slaughter but because of Christmas preparations I missed half of Carol on the TV and I couldn’t work out whether or not it had a happy ending as it was all a bit vague. I saw enough to be interested, so I ordered the book. Was I in for a treat! I wouldn’t go so far as to say I like the Georgian style of writing, that is very quaint and too long-winded for me, but my taste usually lands somewhere between Steinbeck and Hemingway. What makes Patricia Highsmith’s writing so special is that amongst her overt simplicity a beautifully descriptive phrase will come out of nowhere. I am thinking of phrases like “her short fair hair that made Therese think of perfume held to a light”. The writing style is so simple that this book can speak to anyone; it is beautiful at times, stark and brutal at others, but always evocative.

I wish I had found this book when I was nineteen. That was an age at which the world had not changed so much as to make it seem an old fashioned story. Today everything goes and yet people are still unhappy. There are those who will never understand this level of repression and for them I am glad; there are others who still suffer under it and I never want them to be forgotten. The past interests me because our lives are not long enough to learn from experience and still know everything good that love has to offer. Two quotes hit my Twitter feed this morning:

“Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.” – Hellen Keller and “Your days are numbered. Use them to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun.” – Marcus Aurelius

Both of those sum it up beautifully. Today young people are often (but not always) out and proud and it is probably hard to empathise with the level of restrained passion and yearning in this novel but Patricia Highsmith’s characterisation is so good you can’t but feel every nuance along with them, every last bit of yearning, every pang of disappointment. It is a beautiful story and a terrifying one therefore when their happiness so quickly turns into an ordeal of persecution. In the book, you see Therese is less of an innocent, Carol is less of a seducer and both are tormented by circumstances they cannot hope to control. Carol’s sacrifice and bravery is so much clearer than in the film too, Therese’s pain and coming to terms with the loss of her first true love is still there but she hurts others as much as she is hurt by them. Richard is a brute. We don’t see much of this in the film and the ending is far less optimistic. I often prefer the book to the film, but I was grateful for the film because it led me to an unforgettable read that had me up all night.

This is not just a book for those interested in LGBT rights or lesbian romance because it has a very clear truth at its heart. One that all adults know. There is nothing quite like falling in love. It overwhelms you totally and the rush of endorphins is unbelievable. That is probably why so many people are addicted to love of course and continually searching for “The One”. They never find “The One” because harsh reality and even sexual satisfaction itself can take the shine right off that first rush of overwhelming tenderness and desire and yet sometimes, just sometimes, if you can live through the pain and the sheer ordinariness of life, a deeper and stronger affection is born. That is the happiest ending of all and in Carol you live through these characters and feel every emotion they do which makes the ending just perfect in its optimism.