Fatal Mistakes

By A.J. Llewellyn

My cherished and adored friend C.R. Moss has decided to close down this blog due to her many other commitments. I am sad on a personal note because I've enjoyed this place to write and exchange ideas with my fellow authors and readers. I came to know C.R. when she came on board eXtasy Books as a new author and sent me some news clippings she'd seen on Hawaii.
She thought they might be useful for my books.
I will never forget that sweet, generous gesture.
So, since I hate goodbyes I feel I should leave this blog with a hello.
Hello to all the new budding authors out there - and the ones who are working up the courage to submit books to publishers.
In the last few weeks I've had a ton of authors ask me to read their work. I do what I can. Many times, they listen to me and get published (ask Marianne Guenon) other times I think they use my photo for dart-board practice.
Mostly, their reactions are somewhere in the middle.
I am often stumped by the presentations I receive - so here is my list of do's and dont's to get all of you published.

1. This should go without saying but even if you are asking for an opinion, send your best sample. Check your spelling, check your storyline and send your BEST work.

TIP: I cannot stress this strongly enough. Dialogue is your friend. Read it out loud How does it sound? Quite often you'll see it's stiff and awkward. Reading aloud is a wonderful tool screenwriters are taught - make it work for you. It easily reshapes a clunky sentence to smooth.

2. Don't use colorful fonts or adorn your submission with twinkling images etc. Making your submission look "pretty" will kill your chances since the reader has to remove this stuff. The prettiest thing you can send an agent/editor/publisher is a decent book.
Most epublishers prefer Book Antiqua in 12" font, in RTF format with no spaces. I read an article two days ago where writers are submitting resumes and cover letters in white font. I mean...really?

3. Read submission guidelines carefully. AND FOLLOW THEM.

4. Don't send out weird gimmicks via snail mail. One author I know sent a single shoe to potential agents and publishers saying she would "go the distance to succeed." What can anyone do with a single shoe but toss it?

5. Don't send bribe gifts, even candy. Editors, agents and publishers are strangers and won't eat the candy. They will toss them out.

6. Don't badger the editor/publisher once you've submitted. They are busy and get slammed. Be patient and start work on the next thing!

7. Think long-term. If you are going to write romance, your story must have a HEA (Happy ever after) or HFN (Happy for Now) and leave room for a sequel. I had no idea my first book Phantom Lover would take off but with 14 books published in the series and a Christmas title in the works, I am glad I observed the forumula.

8. Read. I mean it. Read good authors. It's important to read the best and that doesn't mean you have to read in the genre you choose.

9. If you get a rejection and the editor/publisher takes the time to point out problems and invites you to resub - do it!
This is probably the most difficult decision you will have to make as an author. I always think the writer should be true to the characters. If the suggestions feel really wrong and you feel strongly about NOT reworking the piece, submit it elsewhere.
You night find the next publishing house loves the piece. Great! However, if several companies point out the same problem, it's time to revise.

10. Have fun! Get published and above all WRITE SOMETHING EVERY DAY. Writing is an instrument, like playing violin or the piano. Keep your instrument sharp.

Good luck and good loving everyone - you have any tips you want to share??

Aloha oe,

A.J.

For the Love of Sean

By A.J. Llewellyn

I love children and the nieces, nephews and assorted godchildren I have in my life are very important to me. As an author, they have inspired both Baby Kimo and the twins Kamaha and Keli'i in the Phantom Lover books (13 and counting). My niece is the model for Baby Daphne in the Black Point books I co-author with D.J. Manly.
When D.J. first suggested that our red-hot Black Point husbands Thomas and Matt should have their own child, I was all over the idea. However, I felt there should be a tug of war with the surrogate mom, an idea D.J. ran with.
I've seen this situation happen over and over again with friends where surrogate mothers and even sperm-donor dads have fought for custody rights.
Watching the dreadful circus that unfolded in Rio de Janeiro this morning with the long custody battle over 9-year old Sean Goldman, I realized how lucky Kimo and Lopaka were that they managed to get custody of their son Baby Kimo pretty easily. But that's fiction.
If you haven't been following this case the bare facts are this: A Brazilian woman, Bruna Bianchi married New Jersey resident David Goldman. They had a son, Sean. When Sean was four, she took an alleged two-week vacation to Brazil with her son.
And never came back.
She divorced Goldman, married another man and fought, with her powerful attorney husband Joao Paulo Lins e Silva, any efforts her former husband made to even see his son.
For five years, David Goldman has petitioned the courts for visitation and for a custody order to be enforced. And then Bianchi died in childbirth.
Up until the last month, this drama has played out privately. Like many custody battles, the details are shocking and cruel.
Both Bianchi's mother and her widower fought Sean's return to his father until they ran out of options this week.
What disturbed me today was how some newshounds supported the family that abducted Sean Goldman and kept his father from even seeing him for 5 long years.
In my Phantom Lover books. Kimo has magical powers. He was able to fight wrong with the help of his ancestors.
David Goldman isn't so lucky.
It isn't the first time a high-profile US child abduction case has hit international headlines (remember Elian Gonzalez?) but what disturbed me in this emotional tug-of-war was how the Brazilian family who profess to love Sean Goldman behaved this morning.
Forced by the courts to return Sean to his father, Lins e Silva, who has been able to use his legal and financial clout to prevent David Goldman from having contact with his son - in spite of several Brazilian court rulings in Goldman's favor - chose to parade the child he claims to love through the streets, the boy crying and frightened all the way to the US Embassy.
I've read all the reports and watched extensive coverage of this case and it is clear that if Joao Paulo Lins e Silva truly loved his dead wife's little boy, he would never have put him through such public trauma.
He was given much more private means of returning Sean. In the end, it is apparent that his motives are not for the love of Sean, but for the love of winning.
In spite all the hoopla, New Jersey rep Chris Smith who has helped David Goldman in his quest for justice since the beginning and was present this morning when they were reunited, said that once Sean was over his terror of the crowds, he and his dad were thrilled to be together.
"They were calm, smiling, they started talking about basketball."
Smith was also present the first and last time David Goldman got to see his son in February and said that visit too, showed the father and son adored each other.
I am certain that once the dust settles and Sean is comfortable and safe, David Goldman will allow Sean's maternal grandma to see the boy again.
All of this heartache - on both sides - could have been avoided if the child hadn't been stolen in the first place.
I feel strongly that David Goldman should not have just forgotten his kid or given up on him as some in the media suggest. He loves his son and the photos of them together from five years ago show a loving bond.
This is a story of love and I for one, am impressed that David Goldman never gave up on his kid like so many dads do. He is no deadbeat. He hasn't moved on and fathered a bunch of other kids by a bunch of other women.
He is a man who loves his son.
I hope they get to cement that bond in peace and without further interference from the family in Brazil. I heard this morning that they don't plan to contest this arrangement anymore.
Perhaps they have finally woken up and realized their only resource is to make peace with the man they denied for so long.
I am not sure how merry this Christmas will be for either side, but I think Sean's return to the father who loves him devotedly might just mean that for him, it is a very happy day indeed.
What do you think?
Aloha oe,

A.J.

Brilliant Creatures

By A.J. Llewellyn

Like just about everybody else in the world, I was shocked and deeply saddened by the tragic passing of actress Natasha Richardson yesterday.
I didn't know her well, in fact, I knew her only to say hello to and this is the reason I decided to blog about her today.
I met her a few years ago in New York City. The apartment she and her family had was the only other apartment on the same floor as my friend Crystal's apartment and I stayed there for a few weeks to help Crystal sort through her grandma's belongings when she died.
Natasha and her family were private, lovely people. To this day I have no idea if this was their permanent residence or a pied-à-terre , but the first time I encountered Natasha by the elevator I was struck by her beauty and her natural warmth. She had a smile a mile wide and she never seemed happier than when she was with her husband and children.
The second time I saw her, we rode the elevator in the lobby. These were private people and unlike Los Angeles, in New York, it's almost mandated that you pretend not to recognize a celebrity.
I have disliked seeing her portrayed as "Hollywood Royalty" in the media since she died as a result of a freak skiing accident. She was not Hollywood. She was a wife and mother whose acting legacy goes far beyond the movie business.
What I treasure most was the moment she and I came out of the lobby, that day. Natasha's husband, actor Liam Neeson was coming out of a taxi. I will never forget the way his face lit up at the mere sight of her, or at the way she looked at him.
I have held onto that memory and used it as a model for my Phantom Lover characters Kimo and Lopaka and for Jimmy and Tem in the vampire series.
What struck me was that this couple at that time, must have been together for 12 or 13 years, yet the sizzle between them was tangible. I have seen this crackle of electricity between my friends Tracy and Chris, also a long term couple. It's my inspiration and confirmation of hope to see this kind of love.
Yesterday, when the first news reports cropped up of her accident, I felt a tremor of terror when I read that she was laughing and joking after she fell during a ski lesson. Afterward, she complained of headaches.
I feared the worst because this was how my friend Pedro Alcazar died. A lovely, talented boxer, he lost a brutal fight to Fernando Montiel at the MGM in Las Vegas a few years ago. I spoke to him after the fight and he was crying.
He kept saying, "I can't go home without my belt. I can't go home without my championship." He was subdued hours afterward when I spotted him in the casino with his friends.
I asked how he was doing. He said he had a headache. As we spoke, the ringside physician who had treated him after the fight was stopped, urged him to go to the emergency room.
He didn't. I have always wondered what would have happened if he had because the next day, I saw him again and he still had the headache.
The next morning, he was dead. Gone. The autopsy said his brain had swollen and bled out as a result of blunt force trauma.
My heart still aches for the three children he left behind, that he was raising as a single father.
And now, another wonderful human has left us.
I don't know why God takes away such bright, loving people, but continues to give breath to serial killers, child rapists and con men. It's a fact of life and love nobody can ever explain to any satisfaction to me.
All I can think of today, as I can only imagine what her husband and sons are dealing with is the line from Yeats in The Wild Swans at Coole:
"I have gazed upon these brilliant creatures and now my heart is sore."

Aloha oe,

A.J.

Rosie and Genevova

By A.J. Llewellyn

The thing about the Internet that never fails to take my breath away is how close you can get so quickly to people you've never met. In November last year, I had my first book signing for Phantom Lover and as I prepare for my next book signing on the 26th for Phantom Lover II at A Different Light, I am excited to know that so many people I met last time will be there again.

Two of those are women have now become friends...I'm talking about Rosie and Genevova. I first met Rosie through my editor Heather who came down to Los Angeles last fall for the Sherrilyn Kenyon book signing in Burbank. We had talked about meeting, this was our perfect opportunity.

Rosie isn't just a fan of Sherrilyn's, she's a FAN. She came with a suitcase full of books for the author to sign. I almost fell over - and so did Sherrilyn!

Over dinner later, Rosie told me she's never read a gay erotic romance and I suggested she read Phantom Lover to see what she thought. Heather emailed her a copy and a friendship was born.

Rosie got my number from Heather and would call to tell me about which books she was reading and what she thought.

The next time I saw Rosie was at my signing...where she brought her friend Genevova, pictured with me, above.

I have no idea what it is between me and Genevova, but I think her love for her husband and her support of her children's hopes and dreams hit a chord with me. Genevova's son wants to be a writer and she spoke so highly of his efforts, I told her I would help any way I could. She has another son who is training to be a tattoo artist, which tickles me to death. She is no ordinary woman!

I found out just how extraordinary she is when Rosie called me two days ago asking if I would like to meet her and Genevova for lunch. I was so excited I drove off without my cell phone and got lost...Valencia...my God. Who'd have known not one person in Valencia knows where Claim Jumper is?

The girls were waiting for me and were so sweet. I wouldn't have waited an hour for anyone except maybe my boyfriend (just kidding Herve, I would wait forever for you) and we soothed our rain-soaked nerves eating mud pie and drinking coffee.

Rosie had just bought my brand new book Hanalei Moon, which came out Saturday and I loved listening to her take on it. I was glad I surprised her with the denouement...and she has now inspired me with a plot idea for a sequel. Rosie has gone from being a little hesitant to read gay erotic romance to waiting up until midnight for my new books to be released!

I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my girls...surprised to learn that Genevova once used to be a girl gang-banger. I can't imagine her beating up anybody she's so feminine. I did say I could imagine her doing battle for her children. Her eyes darkened and she said, "Oh, yes I would."

I know that Genevova is the kind of mother I imagine mine would have been. Since I was six when she died and she was so sick the whole time, I only have moments I can hold onto. I know, just know she would have been just like Genevova, warm, devoted and totally rebellious.

Last mother's day I blogged about my favorite memory of my mother, rescuing a beaten transvestite and giving her dignity and a cup of tea. I know Genevova is just like her.

She, like Rosie is my kinda woman. And I love 'em both already. I look forward to our next meal, hopefully next week. I just have to figure out how to grab that check before Rosie does!

Aloha oe,

A.J.

Meet the Parents

So my father breezed into town from his home in Australia on his way to an Alaskan cruise with his new girlfriend yesterday. He rented a sports car at the airport and they drove to my place.
It had been a lot of back and forth, with my father saying they would stay at the Chateau Marmont instead of with me.
"Why?" I asked. I barely get to see him and was hoping to have some time with him.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "You don't have a spare room. You have that loft thingy and I don't like looking at all those pictures of naked men you have around the place."
"Naked men? You mean my book covers?"
"Yeah." His voice sounded pained.
So I relinquished control and let him have his way. They arrived while I was in the middle of posting a blog and I had to hustle to get everything done on time. I had shampooed the carpet, cleaned the place within an inch of its life. The dog had been groomed and looked adorable. The cat just IS adorable...
He walked in, told me my dog looked old and that it was time to get a new carpet and say, had I put on a little weight?
"Gee, dad," I said. "I'd forgotten how much fun you are to have around."
He laughed and realized he was being a jerk. He showed his new lady friend around. My dad has always loved my place, even though he moans about how much money I spend on books.
"What are all these boxes?" the girlfriend asked me. It has always staggered me that my 80 year old dad still scores. This one looked like she'd had a lot of work done and I put her in her mid 50s. She strutted around in her high heels and miniskirt and looked like she thought I live in a dump.
"Books," I replied. "I am having a book launch next month. My first book, Phantom Lover was just released in paper back!"
"Oh. So why are the books stacked up here by the front door?"
Now, I'm thinking is this woman dumb or what? Where else does she want me to store nearly a hundred books? Between my own book and copies of eXtasy's anthologies in which I have stories, plus promo materials sent to me by other authors, I have nowhere else to put it all.
She stared disdainfully at my cat Banjo who was curled up asleep on the top box.
"Why's your cat sleeping up there?"
I stared helplessly at my dad. On a scale of one to ten, this newbie rates a zero so far.
"Um...because he likes it?"
"What kind of a book is it?" she asked me, her fingers running along the taped, closed lids.
"Erotic romances."
"Oh, I love erotic romances."
"You don't want to read these," my father assured her.
"Yes I do."
"These are gay romances." My father looked pained and was starting to tug at his shirt collar.
"Gay?" she blinked at me. "Why in the world would you write gay fiction?"
I stared at my father.
"Do gay people believe in romance?" She was laughing now. "You're joking, right?"
"No, I'm not joking."
I opened a box and handed her a copy of Phantom Lover.
She read the back cover blurb and put the book down.
I recently had a very experience going from book shop to book shop trying to get them interested in carrying my book on their shelves and it went a lot like this.
What happened next was exactly what happened in a lot of the book stores I covered. She picked the book up and started reading.
"It pulls you in," she announced.
Say, this chick might work out after all.
She was turning pages, I made coffee, my dad complained about my animals bugging him but got down on the floor and played with the dog.
"Oh, my stars!" Dad's girlfriend squawked. "They're having sex!"
My dad looked up at her. "Yeah, AJ's characters do a lot of that."
She kept putting the book down, then picking it up. She was a third of the way through when she proclaimed it to be "not my thing" but the second my dad and I started playing backgammon she had her nose back in the book again.
I told her she could take it home with her.
"Oh, I won't read it," she kept saying. "It's not my thing."
"Okay...sorry." I went to put it back in the box.
"But I do want to find out how it ends. There's a nice love story here once you get past all the...you know...cocks and asses."
"Thanks," I said.
"Have you read this?" she asked my dad.
He looked agonized. "Yes."
"All of it?"
"Yes."
"And what did you think?"
"I told AJ never to send me one of his books again."
His girlfriend smiled. "My mother reads romances...I wonder if she would like this."
I burst out laughing. Her mother?
My dad wiped his hand over his face. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope."
My dad looked at me. "I get all the freakin' weirdoes," he said when she tripped off to the bathroom. "Now my girlfriend wants to read gay sex."
"Well dad, at least she hasn't asked me if I have any gay porn. The last one was..."
"Yeah, I remember. Riveted by it. This one is too classy for that AJ so don't start banging on about bloody Frank Sagat or whatever his name is, okay?"
"Okay dad."
When his girlfriend emerged from the bathroom, she nudged me. "AJ, you know, I was just wondering...got any gay porn?"

Aloha oe,

AJ

Unconditional Love

By A.J. Llewellyn

Hi Everyone,
I want to talk about Unconditional Love today, in particular a Cause I have been passionately committed to: the canonization of the Belgian born priest, Father Damien. They called him the hero of Molokai because this incredible man was the only one who volunteered to service Molokai when death was almost certain.

He defied the Vatican’s orders not to have direct physical contact with his flock and went to the Hawaiian island of Molokai, a leper colony in 1873 to serve the sick and dying. Single handedly. Hundreds of islanders were banished to this island during the terrible plague traced to a ship load of Chinese farm workers brought to the Hawaiian kingdom, causing widespread panic and disease.

I have been devoted, along with many others to the Cause of seeing this Blessed man declared a saint. Make no mistake. I’m not Catholic, nor has God whispered in my ear dictating this long and winding road, but I did have an encounter with Father Damien that I have never forgotten.

Damien, thanks to the new Pope, Benedict XVI is on the road to Sainthood. At last.

The spiritual patron for Hansen's Disease, HIV and AIDS patients and other ‘outcasts’ has finally been embraced by the Vatican, once embarrassed that Father Damien, in caring for what he deemed his Children, fell victim to leprosy (now called Hansen’s Disease) himself and died in agony of it at the age of 49.

His story is remarkable. When he arrived on the lonely, isolated Kalaupapa peninsular, he was shocked to find so many sick and dying men, women and children, banished to the island with no food, shelter or any treatment for this hideous, progressive disease. Damien stopped the women from being raped, demanded food and medicine to be shipped to Molokai, built housing and a church for his children. He fed them, bathed them. Respected them. And he loved them. Utterly and unconditionally.

He must have been a talented builder because every single structure he erected is still standing and in use, by the remaining two dozen patients who will by Hawaiian state law be allowed to live at Kalaupapa until their last breath.

Visitors are allowed to Molokai, but a permit is required and no more than 100 tourists can be on island at the same time. A few years ago, after the death of my grandmother, who raised me, I fell into a deep depression and during a long stay in Maui, found a compilation of oral histories from former patients at Molokai. Their stories were devastating. So many families were destroyed by the “Separating Sickness.” I felt increasingly compelled to visit Molokai and read everything I could on Father Damien.

I became obsessed with the wonderful Australian movie, Molokai in which the extraordinary David Wenham portrayed Damien. Like many islanders, I became enraged when Father Damien’s steps toward Sainthood resulted in the Belgian government digging up his body from his grave in Kalaupapa.

Long before he contracted Hansen’s Disease, he considered himself a leper. I felt in death, as in life he would want to sleep with his children and when the Belgian government bent under international pressure and returned his right hand to the people of Hawaii, I felt even more strongly about paying homage to the man I considered a true hero.

Coincidentally, I won a book on ebay called Margaret of Molokai and couldn’t wait to receive it. Then I got an email from a man on Molokai who was devastated because I had beaten him out on the book auction. He had tried to win it for his mother, a still-living resident at Kalaupapa. I offered to give him the book as soon I had read it. I promised him I would read it quickly and send it to him immediately.

He responded with a kind email saying I was the embodiment of the spirit of Aloha. This man and his wife and soon, his mother, started corresponding with me regularly and I ended up going to visit them. Anyone who has read my Phantom Lover series might be interested to know that Lopaka’s tutu [grandmother] is based on the woman who became my surrogate mother on Molokai.

She took me on a tour of the hospital. I was shocked to see all the barriers still in place, as a sort of memorial and living museum where family members were allowed to come and visit their loved ones in the disease’s curable stage, thanks to new drugs.

We went to Damien’s church and we sat in a pew. I will never forget the sun shining on me, the dizzying scent of ginger stems washing over me. I looked at the floor as I thought about my grandmother and all the things I might have said to her given the chance to say goodbye. I saw all the holes in the floor. That, I hadn’t expected.

“What are they?” I asked my friend.

“Spit holes. In the latter stages of leprosy, the victims during Damien’s time, before there was a cure, could not swallow. Damien still wanted them to come to church and he put spit holes in the floor so they could still come to church and pray.”

And then, a wondrous thing happened. I felt him. I really did. His beautiful, Holy ghost was in his House, and I, like all his other outcasts had just become one of Damien’s children. It was an indescribable feeling. It was a high feeling of pure love.

“He’s here, you can feel him, can’t you?” my friend whispered and I just sat, stunned. Had I been alone, I know I would have dismissed that moment as a fantasy. That feeling has stayed with me for years now and I reach in for it, whenever I need it.

Recently, Pope Benedict declared the inexplicable healing of 80 year old Audrey Toguchi’s cancer as a Miracle. Her fatal illness miraculously disappeared after a long visit at Father Damien’s grave. He has pushed Damien’s case to the head of the line where he should be.

Earlier this year, I went back to Molokai and took Father Damien a lei. I know it’s only his right hand there, but it still belongs to him. The hand that touched, nurtured, fed and held people terrified and feeling abandoned by their God.

In Hawaii, Father Damien Day is celebrated on April 15.

Beatified by Pope John Paul II in 1995, the Catholic Church commemorates Damien on May 10.
Known officially as “Blessed Damien of Molokai,” he will soon be known as Damien, hero, father…SAINT.

Aloha oe,

A.J.