Once in a Blue Moon...

By A.J. Llewellyn

Current mood: adventurous
Category: Writing and Poetry

A little over a year ago, I went to meet my editor Heather, who is a huge Sherrilyn Kenyon fan when she came to Los Angeles to attend Sherrilyn's book signing. It seemed a great time to finally meet the woman with whom I had wrestled over edits of my literary babies. She came armed with friends, I supposed, in case I punched her lights out, but a real friendship was forged over pie and coffee.
I formed my strongest and truly cherished friendship with Heather's sister-in-law Rosie, who not only reads all my books but has a true understanding of story. We have spent many hours over dinner and lunch together since then discussing stories - not just mine, but her observations are always acute - and one rainy afternoon, she'd just bought my book Hanalei Moon and told me that she loved it.
It was a non-series book and one of which I was proud, because the idea came to me many years ago. The premise was this: a world champion surfer takes his dog to the beach for a surf after an argument with his boyfriend. He wipes out badly, comes back to the surface after fighting the ocean for survival.
His dog, his car keys and his car are all gone. Gaby soon finds out these are the least of his worries...he has somehow, inexplicably lost 12 years of his life.
I loved writing this paranormal, erotic, romantic adventure and Rosie, who is a great critic as well as a fan of M/M stories suggested a sequel.
"Why don't you make Gaby wipe out again and he finds himself back at the starting point, 12 years ago, knowing everything that he knows now?"
Wow.
I could hardly concentrate on my mother lode chocolate cake after that. My brain was firing with ideas.
In truth, the sequel, Blue Moon, which came out today is a much better book than Hanalei Moon. As I cross-referenced the original in writing the sequel, I saw so many places where the original could have been so much better. I wrote it over a year ago and like to think I have improved since then. But I also think, giving a character I love the chance to go back and love his dog, his mother, to maybe prevent his best friend's battle with cancer...and to reunite with the love of his life kept me on the edge of my seat as I wrote.
I feel it's a stand-alone title in spite of being a sequel, but I also feel I got to address some issues I often think about - that maybe we ALL think about. Can we change the future? Can Gaby, who jumps back 12 years change the things he knows will happen?
Would anyone listen if he told them JFK's plane would crash or that terrorists will fly planes right into the World Trade Center towers?
Once in a blue moon, writers have conversations that inspire better work and better stories and I will forever be grateful that I battled the rain one afternoon to drive all the way to Valencia to have lunch with my lovely Rosie.
She gave me so much to think about and I hope, a book my readers will enjoy.
Aloha oe,
A.J.

Currently listening: Ki Ho'alu Christmas: Hawaiian Slack Key GuitarBy Keola Beamer;Ledward Kaapana;Moses Kahumoku;Cyril Pahinui;James "Bla"Pahinui;Barney Isaacs & George Kuo;Dennis Kamakahi;Ozzie Kotani;George Kahumoku;George Kuo;Cindy Combs;Joanie KomatsuRelease date: 1996-09-19

My Daughter Can Read!

Several months ago I blogged about my daughter and her learning disabilities. Not only is does she have a severe speech delay, but she is years behind in reading and writing. I think there is a kind of sick irony that a child of a writer can’t read. While I spend my days making books, she can’t comprehend what’s between the covers. Books are my greatest joy and her biggest frustration. I can’t count the number of times I watched her cry in despair when she would want to read the latest book, only to find the skills she need to do so eluded her. While her friends got excited about the latest Harry Potter, American Girls or Magic Tree House books, she would be left out. Forced to watch from the sidelines.

Over the summer she was given the opportunity to attend a specialized reading class. After she got done complaining about having to go to school while all her friends were at the beach, she found that she actually enjoyed it. I took her there twice and week without fail, but was disappointed when I didn’t see any improvements. I thought it was a big waste of time.

I could not have been more wrong!

This week she brought home a book from the library. It was about dinosaurs and that just happens to be one of her favorite subjects. She came to me and asked if I could read to her and I’m ashamed to admit I told her I didn’t have time at the moment and she was would have to wait until later. Then I got to feeling guilty so I went to find her.

She was in her room, sitting under a window, reading the book. I don’t mean just looking at the pictures, but actually reading the words! I stood there, not making a sound as I watched her gaze travel over the pages, her lips soundlessly forming the words. She finally noticed I was there and glanced up at me. The look of pure joy in her eyes made me cry.

“I’m doing it Mommy, I’m reading.” She pointed at the book, her finger shaking with excitement. “I know what it says.”

Now I can’t get books out of her hands. She reads in the car, in the bathroom, between classes at dance. She almost ran into the door going into school because she was trying to read while walking. It’s like a switch turned on inside her head and there’s no stopping her. She now knows the happiness books can bring to her and there is a whole world waiting for her to discover. She won’t be stopped either.

This is one of the happiest moments of my life and I shall forever remember it. It was the day my baby finally found a love for reading and there is no greatest gift in the world.

-Stephani

Where do you get inspiration from?

What a deep subject this could be. Where do we get our inspiration from? For me, I pull my ideas from the newspaper, the Internet, and even on the radio.

Just yesterday I was plugging away working on my synopsis for a current work in progress when I decided to pop a cd into the computer. I love country music, so that is usually my first choice when it comes to listening pleasure as well.

A few minutes later, I stopped typing and started listening to the words of the song. Whoa, they were very poignant and alsmost made me cry. When the songstress sang this at the Country Music Awards a few years ago she broke down crying during the song. It's about how her mother left their family and how the singer wanted to let her know that was doing just fine without her in her life. Ok, so I shedding a tear or two, or lots (G).

It really hit home as my mother gave me up when I was three months old. Granted she gave me to family members (my great grandparents) but it still hurts nonetheless. I will always wonder what if things would have been different. But they weren't. My father was killed in a car crash at the young age of 19, my mother was then barely 18, a widow with a baby. Life was not going the way she had planned by any stretch of the imagination.

So, long story short, when I hear something like that on the radio I always find myself wondering what kind of book it would make. Would anyone care about my life even if was fictionalized, and romanticized?

Who knows, but regardless of that I ALWAYS jot down ideas and have scraps of paper all over my office, my purse, my nightstand, my house with scribbles and snippets of ideas for future books. Will I ever write them, again who knows. But I certainly have a stockpile of ideas to chose from.

What about you? Do you write down the ideas so time doesn't take them away from you? Where do you get your inspiration from? Share with me please.

The CHIROPRACTOR

By A.J. Llewellyn

So my first and last day as a celebrity assistant, culminating in a fender bender resulted in a pretty sore neck for me that no amount of Motrin could assuage. My friend Tracy who got me the gig in the first place felt so guilty he insisted on calling the celebrity and demanding that she foot the bill for my chiropractic care.
Not only had I signed a confidentiality agreement, but when I arrived for my appointment yesterday at "Dr. Mike, Chiropractor to the Stars" office, I even had to sign a waiver, which in essence guaranteed I would not be suing her.
"We keep these on file," his secretary informed me. "She's a lousy driver."
After waiting for freaking ever, I was ushered into Dr. Mike's office, told me to sit on the massage table and immediately said, "I hear you write gay porn."
Oh, Buddha.
"No, I write gay erotic fiction."
"Whatever. I have a story your readers will love."
Now, I don't know about other writers, but this sort of thing happens to me a lot. To be honest, sometimes I do get incredible nuggets. But not this time.
I could not turn my head to the left, but this was where Mike chose to sit so I had to shift my whole body so I could look him in the eye.
"So I'm dating this chick and man I adore her. And she has a kid..."
Can you please look at my neck? Please? I'm in agony here. I tried not scream the words out loud. I tried to concentrate on not punching him in the mouth when he said, "...and the kid has given her worms."
"Worms?"
"Pin worms, actually."
"Pin worms?" I thought I was going to be sick.
"Yeah, once one kid in school gets 'em they all get 'em," he informed me. "So anyway, she called me and said I needed to get checked out since I love anal sex and as she put it, I'm down there for hours giving her head."
"Mike," I said. "Please, I don't want to hear this. This is not sexy. My readers don't want to read about worms."
"SHUT up! You're kidding me! It's real life, A.J. Come on, don't tell me you never went down on a guy and found little white worms crawling out of his ass. They come out at night, you know."
"No, never."
"Never?" He looked stumped. "You know a lot of guys get hepatitis from eating other guy's asses."
"Not in my books." I opened and closed my eyes. "My characters don't give each other...worms." I was trying to imagine Kimo going down on Lopaka and finding unexpected company.
Now I was getting worried. "Mike, I'm in agony."
"Hunnnnh," Mike said, sounding peeved. He stood behind me and poked and prodded around my neck until he hit a sore spot. His fingers dug into it.
"Lie down on your stomach," he said. And I did. He kept pressing down on my neck, his entire massive body rising from the floor each time he weighed down on me. He finally cracked my upper back and dragged me up by my arm.
"You can't lie in that position too long," he said. "Go sit in that chair."
I stumbled across the room and he followed me, circling me like a cougar.
"I really like this chick," he said. "But the antibiotics I now have to take make me shit my brains out. I haven't had a salad...no roughage for two weeks."
"Mike, I really don't want to hear this," I said as he stood behind me and suddenly twisted my neck with such force, I am amazed it's still on my shoulders. The collection of cracks I heard was deafening.
"Did that hurt?" he asked innocently, holding my head in his hands.
"You just broke my neck, Mike. Of course it fucking hurts."
"SHUT up! I haven't done that in 30 years. Now on the count of three I'm going to do the other side."
The bastard lied and cracked it on two.
"Your girlfriends must love you," I said.
"SHUT up! They fucking do. I miss my ex. Man we had some real piggy sex. We used to watch the Playboy Channel together." He grasped my arm and threw me back onto the table. He grabbed a jar of ointment and started massaging it into my neck.
"The Playboy Channel?" I asked. "Is it explicit?"
"Very. Well...they show squirting, but no male ejaculation..."
"Squirting?" I asked.
"Yeah, chicks squirt. You didn't know that?"
No, I did not. I was at a loss for words when he went on. "The other four channels are very explicit. They do show male ejaculation but no anal sex."
I grinned. "Oh, then I wouldn't enjoy that much."
He stared at me. "You're talking about gay anal sex, right? SHUT up! How can you watch that?"
"An ass is an ass," I shrugged. "I bet you couldn't tell the difference in the heat of the moment."
He looked pained. "SHUT up! I do NOT wanna be hammering some babe and looking down to see...balls."
"I do," I shot back.
Dr. Mike sent me home with a cervical collar, I am certain as a form of punishment for not diggin' his worm idea, and a demand that I return there today.
"A.J," he said, as he shook my hand goodbye. "I bet one of your characters comes up with worms."
He would lose the house on that bet. He got a funny look on his face and excused himself, running to the bathroom.
And I returned to my life, grateful my man Herve wasn't around to see me looking like Invalid of the Week. And I tried, oh so hard, not to think about...worms.

Aloha oe,

A.J.