Rainbow Snippet 12/29/2019

Rainbow Snippets gives writers a chance to share six sentences (and sometimes a little more) of LGBTQ+ fiction every weekend. 

 “Look, I um, gotta be honest. I wasn’t planning to get a room at the motel, more like city park. Even if I get a job, I can’t afford the motel until I get my first paycheck, so umm, if you’ll just let me out at the hardware store, that’ll be more than good enough.”

When the truck jerked to a stop, Nash was grateful for the seatbelt or he’d have hit the dash.

“You’re planning to sleep in the park?”

“Yeah, if I get a job, if not, well, then how much will it cost to scrap the bike?”

“You can’t be serious right now.”

Nash poured all of his effort into making his voice as harsh and firm as he could. “How much!”

“Nothing. We don’t work that way. We give cash based on the weight of the metal, which, I have to admit, wouldn’t be much for an old bike like that.”

Now Available on Amazon... https://www.amazon.com/Dust-Trail-Blues-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B081TLQRXF

Rainbow Snippet 12/21/2019

Of old bones and new beginnings!

Rainbow Snippets gives writers a chance to share six sentences (and sometimes a little more) of LGBTQ+ fiction every weekend. 

“Dude, that food was off the fuckin’ chain,” Nash told him before Jude could leave.

“Thanks, I’m glad you liked it, it’s one of the only things I can cook well.”

“Yeah, right, judging from that, I’d be willing to bet you could cook anything you put your mind to.”

“Oh no, please do not encourage him to attempt anything beyond the ten recipes he has memorized. I only just got the last of the soot and burned on sauce off the wall behind the stove after his attempt at beef enchiladas.”

Nash frowned and chuckled a little as he helped Justice clear the table. “How the fuck do you fuck up enchiladas?”

“No, no, no, no, no, you do not get to ask or he might decide to repeat the performance.”

“Since you guys seem to be getting so much amusement out of my fuck up, then why don’t one of you give them a shot next Sunday?” Jude challenged.

While Justice was focused on getting soapy water in the sink, Nash was more than willing to consider it. “I’m in,” Nash said, “but let’s make it really interesting and let Justice make dessert.”

                                                                        Now Available!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081TLQRXF

Halfway to Someday interview: Jesse

And now, a rare and exclusive interview with Wild Child’s lead singer, Jesse Winters. Thank you for agreeing to do this, Jesse, I am aware that you have been rather reclusive as of late so I will try and keep my questions as brief and to the point as possible.

Thanks.

You’ve been playing music a long time now, in fact, according to Kyle, you were the one that taught him to play the guitar. What was the first instrument you learned to play?

Xylophone.

Seriously?

Oh yeah. All of my toys were education in some way, usually music themed. I remember this stuffed octopus with a different pitched squeezy ball thing at the end of each of its tentacles. My parents have videos of me squeaking away on it, kicking my feet and laugh-babbling while I did. They used to call it my first song.

So, music has always been a part of your life.

Since before I was born, apparently. My mom liked to tell stories of how she would be playing classical music to her pregnant belly and my dad would come in and start playing the blues on his saxophone, and whichever one could get me kicking was apparently the ‘winner’ for the afternoon.

Sounds like a pretty touching memory. It also sounds like they were very close and enjoyed life and each other.

Yeah, they really loved each other, I never had a reason to doubt that. Never had reason to doubt that they loved me, either, but sometimes it felt like they didn’t know what to do with me.

Care to elaborate.

Yeah, a little, I guess. It was just that they treated me like a mini-adult, not like a kid. Like they’d completely forgotten their own childhoods and wanted to make sure everything they gave me or did for me had meaning. I, this isn’t me being ungrateful, please understand that it was just, the kids at school would have action figures and games and bicycles and skateboards and I was always the odd one out because even if they invited me to join them, I didn’t know how to play.

So are you saying you never did anything fun when you were a kid?

Not exactly. I’m saying I never did anything just for fun unless I snuck and did it at Kyle’s house and even then, I had to be careful they wouldn’t find out I was learning to ride a bike or running around in the woods with him and a few of his cousins.

But because of the age gap, one of the cousins you never met was Ryker, at least, not until you both ended up snowed in at the same cabin on a Colorado mountainside.

Pretty much, though it was as much about distance as it was age. Ryker’s family lived in Vermont and Kyle and I grew up in Maine. With school being in session Ryker wouldn’t have been around on weekends the way some of Kyle’s other cousins were. I knew of him, and that Kyle always looked forward to his visits for holidays and summer vacation, but my folks insisted my summers be spent at band and art camps and for holidays we went to New York City each year. That’s where they met, in college there, and they loved going back when everything was all lit up and they could take in the concerts and plays and musicals.

And were those things you enjoyed too?

Some of them, and sometimes I wished they’d have left me back in the hotel room so I could watch cartoons or something on television. I did love New York though, still do, it’s an amazing city and there is always something interesting to do. I’d have gone to school there if I’d decided on that course.

Juilliard, right?

Yeah. I got in, I just, I didn’t want to go. I hadn’t even wanted to audition, that had been all them. I was just glad they never followed through on their threat to move us to New York so I could attend the school of music and performing arts in Manhattan. I wouldn’t have had the amazing career I’ve had so far.

So, you don’t think you’d have gone on to pursue music professionally.

Oh I would have, it just, it would have been different and I know a time would have come when I’d have realized that I wasn’t doing it because I loved it or because it was what I wanted to be doing, but because it was what they’d have wanted me to do and I’d have resented it as much as I came to resent them.

So, suffice it to say you had a rather complex relationship with them.

Very much so, and it was severely strained in the end. That is my one regret. That I never got a chance to prove to them that I wasn’t going to starve in the streets and wind up homeless and playing my guitar on the street corner for change. I tried to explain to them that the music I played took as much hard work and dedication as the music they wanted me to play, but to them, Alternative was just noise and no amount of listening to me play the music I was writing would convince them otherwise.

So, you were writing all the way back in high school?

Junior high. I loved playing with the way sound fit together. It was like unraveling something strand by strand to get the notes and chords to form something beautiful. Those early attempts, especially at lyrics, were extremely amateur but they laid the foundation for the things I would go on to write later. The more I saw and got to experience, the more I had to write about. That’s when I started to realize just how limited a scope of experiences I had before leaving home.

Must have been pretty eye-opening.

Yeah, it was. It was also how the band got its name. Kyle used to say I was suddenly like some wild child let loose on a city whenever we’d go someplace new and it just sort of stuck after a few months.

What was the name of the band before then?

We went through a few, actually. Sometimes the space between towns would seem like it was endless and we’d amuse ourselves playing license plate drinking games, writing lyrics, and trying to come up with a better name for the band than Bangor Badasses, Cherryfield Goatmen, Ghost Brides, Maine Mist or Pocomoonshine Monsters, and yeah, we took a lot of our name ideas from Urban Legends associated with our state.

Ghost brides, how does that work when there’s only one female member of your band, shouldn’t it be ghost bride?

Not…exactly. I went through a phase of liking to dress in those mini school-girl skirts and putting my hair in pigtails. Got really good at strutting around stage in heels too, so, yeah, that was sort of a thing. Honestly, all we were trying to do was come up with something that wouldn’t be forgotten or that would make people stop and look twice and wonder what the fuck. Wild Child was so common, I was the one offering the most resistance to it, at first. Then Kyle reminded me that our music was going to make people sit up and take notice, so to relax and get used to the name. Considering I’d been outvoted, I had little choice but to take his advice. Fortunately, it grew on me.

And yet, you admit to wanting to shed the wild child reputation some have given you over the years.

Because it isn’t accurate. I might have been a bit overeager at times to experience new things, but I wasn’t out of control. I was never out of control even when my band seemed to think I was.

Sounds like there is a lot of bitterness still surrounding those particular issues.

And probably will be for a while now. Maybe it’ll blow over. Maybe it won’t. Only time will tell.

Well, I want to thank you for this talk, it’s been extremely enlightening and good luck in your upcoming project. All acoustics I hear and very dark?

Yeah. I’ve gone through a lot of phases, emotionally, in the past year and putting those feelings into music has been cathartic.  Keep watch for the first few singles to start releasing on Spotify in the next month. It’ll be…something. Exactly what I’m not sure yet.

Guess we’ll all have to wait and see. 

Halfway to Someday

Coming January 27, 2020

Rainbow Snippet 12/14/2019

Rainbow Snippets gives writers a chance to share six sentences (and sometimes a little more) of LGBTQ+ fiction every weekend. 

“Jesse,” Ryker called out.

“W-what?”

“I just wanted to let you know I’m still here.”

“O-okay.”

“I’m sorry I upset you again.”

“I-it’s not you,” Jesse stammered, sniffling again.

Ryker gave a rueful chuckle and pressed his ear against the door, listening for any signs that Jesse might be doing harm to himself. “Sure seems that way.”

“I-it… I-I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Ryker told him. “Clearly, something is wrong and my being here is making it worse. I can’t do much about it now but sit here and listen if you want to talk.”

The laugh that echoed through the door was bitter, caustic, and Jesse sounded like one wrong word would send him spiraling even further over the edge.

“No one cares what I have to say.”

“I do.”

“Y-yeah, right. Y-you don’t even know me.”

Ryker closed his eyes. At least Jesse didn’t seem to be moving around in there, but how to reach him when Jesse was right?

“I know your music,” Ryker replied. “Every word to every song committed to memory."

Come check out a host of talented authors taking part in Rainbow Snippets: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/

Halfway to Someday Interview: Kyle

Good afternoon Kyle and thanks for taking the time out to come chat with me.

Pretty sure you weren’t going to give me much choice in the matter so might as well get it over with.

Okay, seriously, is there something in the air around here or what? First Justice unloading with all the snark, and now you’re kicking things off by being a smart-ass. Just once I’d like to have a conversation with one of you guys that didn’t start with you grumbling at me.

You love us and you know it. Besides, you have Jesse and Ryker if you want a few warm and fuzzy moments or you could jump on over to those shifters you’ve been dabbling with. Oh wait, those are some prickly, sarcastic little bastards too.

Maybe one of the bodyguards should have tossed your ass in a snowbank after Winterfest, sheesh, can we just get on with the interview now?

Your wish is my command.

Keep it up, and I swear, I will write you out of book two!

Temper, temper, now, we wouldn’t want to disappoint my adoring public now would we?

I’m pretty sure that when the public reads this story, they’ll find little to adore or even like about you. Maybe I’ll include a poll in the back of the book to allow them to vote you off the island for book two.

You wouldn’t!

Try me!

Umm, well, about those interview questions….

Yes?

I’m ready to answer them now.

I thought so. I’ll even be kind, and start with a simple one, like why you didn’t warn Ryker there would be someone else at the cabin when he got there?

‘Cause I figured he wouldn’t go and I didn’t want him to be alone. He wouldn’t come out to Tacoma to stay with me, and from what he told me had turned down an offer from that bodyguard friend of his, Keegan, to hang out at his place, so I decided to leave one little detail out when I told him about the cabin.

I’d hardly call not telling him that your best friend was up there for the same reason Ryker wanted to be, solitude, a little detail.  

Yeah, well, neither one of them needed it and you know it. It might have ruffled a few feathers, but I did a good thing.

I’m pretty sure several messes could have been avoided if you’d taken the time to truly find out what was needed in a situation rather than making mass assumptions and pissing people off. Charging in guns blazing might work out well in some situations, but in others, you might as well shoot yourself in the foot and call it a day. Oh wait….you did that. Repeatedly, might I add.

Okay, I screwed up, but my intentions were good.

Heaven save us all from fools and their good intentions. Moving along now. In talking to Ryker, he indicated that he had a ton of embarrassing moments he could share from your younger years and some of the things you managed to get into. I figure its only fair to ask you to share once, since I posed the same question to him. So, most embarrassing moment, spill.

I’m not giving you the be all end all most embarrassing one, but I’ll give you one, if only to keep you from asking Jesse about it.

What makes you think I won’t ask anyway?

I don’t like you.

Where have I heard that before? You’re stalling, don’t make me start dialing.

Okay, okay, sheesh. So, about a year after we released our first album, we were booked to perform in Hawaii. Sounded like the perfect opportunity to get some downtime too, a little mini-vacation before the second half of the tour started up, so, we jumped at the opportunity to explore. Man, that place is beautiful. Well, we’d had these drinks the night before, served right out of a halved coconut, sooo good. Well, as we were out walking I happened to notice some growing up in a tree. I loved to climb trees growing up and it wasn’t that far off the ground, so I figured why not go up and retrieve a couple, bring them back to the hotel, crack them open that night, and pour a little rum in while we were sitting out on the balcony watching the sunset. Most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen, let me tell you. Of course, Jesse, who’s only climbed like two trees in his entire life, suggested it might not be a good idea, and why not buy a few coconuts from the local market if I was so determined to make fresh drink. Well they were right there and it was the principle of the matter, so up I went. Man, those things do not come off easy like an apple or peach. I’m twisting, I’m pulling, I’ve got like this cluster of three and the ground isn’t that far away so I figure, I’ve got enough mass that if I swing out from the tree while holding on to them, they should come down with me.

How did that work out for you?

Oh they came down.

And…

A wasps nest came down with them.

Ouch!

Tell me about it. Those things had a vicious sting and they were persistent too. Once they were all riled up, they didn’t care who they went after. Jesse took off running after the first sting. I grabbed the cluster of coconuts and tried to do the same. It took me nearly a dozen more stings to realize they were following me because their nest was attached to the clump. In the meantime, some people were snickering, others were staring, a few pulled their cell phones out and had their cameras pointing my way, while I was swatting with my free hand and yelping every time I got stung. Needless to say, I eventually left the coconuts behind and ordered my drinks from the bar that night. Several might I add, and not a single one with coconut anything in it.

Now that’s funny!

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.

Oh I will, as will our readers, I’m sure. Okay, so, one last questions, and then you can get out of here.

Fine.

What was Jesse like, when you guys were kids?

Quiet, shy, even when it was just him and I hanging out, he never said a lot. He was content to listen to me ramble on and on about whatever, but when he did interject something, I could always tell that he’d put a lot of thought into it first.

I know you were adventurous, but, was Jesse that way too?

He wanted to be. It was just that he didn’t have very many opportunities to indulge when we were growing up, so once we were out on the road together, there was this laundry list of things he wanted to try. Like literally, he had a list. Escape rooms, amusement parks, climbing walls, jet skies, you get the gist. That first tour, he would take every opportunity to try something new whenever we had even the tiniest sliver of downtime. And he was happy. Like, in a way he never was when we were kids.

And how many of those things did you help him cross off?

A couple, but, I mean, I’d done them all before, so there was other stuff that had my attention. Griffin, though, he went with Jesse everywhere, but then, he’d missed out on that kind of childhood too, so they got to share in those firsts together. By the third tour though, we were all doing our own thing. Looking back, I wish things had stayed the way they were when we first started.

Sounds like a lot of good times were shared, at least in the beginning. I hope you can find your way back to those times again.

No one hopes for that more than me, Layla. No one.

Halfway to Someday

Coming January 27, 2020

Rainbow Snippet 12/7/19

Justice began a slow, methodical search in the hopes of finding the problem. Just when he was coming to believe it was pointless, Nash’s voice caused him to jump and he damn near hit his head on the hood.

“Sorry, figured you’d heard me coming,” Nash professed.

“Was too busy cussing this old boy for deciding to be the bastard king just when I was planning to get the fuck out of here.”

Nash’s laugh was low and smooth and unless Justice was mistaken there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he stepped up to the car.

“See, that’s your first problem right there. You can’t call him a bastard and expect him to act right. You gotta finesse him, love up on him a little bit, remind him why he’s so special to you and then maybe he’ll show you what the problem is.”

“Are you talking about a car or a man?”

“Well, considering I don’t know all that much about cars I’m just speaking from the experience of someone who’s dealt with a demon bitch of a vehicle a time or two,” Nash remarked with a wink.

“Thought you said not to call them names?”

“I said you shouldn’t be cussing out your old boy until you figure out what’s wrong with him. I can cuss mine out all I want, she’s dead in the grass and until I can gather all her parts together, no way am I getting her to purr for me.”

Justice’s jaw dropped and he shook his head in amazement. “You are truly the only person I’ve ever met who could make working on a car sound like a fuck fest.”

This time Nash’s chuckle sounded positively filthy.

“It takes a lot of time, skill, and effort,” Nash remarked.

Dust Trail Blues
Coming December 20th, 2019

Check out all of the other amazing rainbow snippets at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/

Dust Trail Blues character interview: Justice

Coming December 20, 2019

Good morning, Justice and thank you for agreeing to sit down with me today.

I’d have loved to do this interview a little later in the day.

I’m sure. Well there is a freshly brewed pot of coffee if you’d like some.

Why didn’t you say that in the first place?

For someone used to getting up early in the morning, you’re far grouchier about it than I expected.

Shouldn’t I be? You’re grouchy in the morning, everyone you live with is grouchy in the morning, hell, everyone you know is grouchy in the morning. Don’t you always tell people that you base all of us characters on people you know?

Yes, but…

Well then you can’t really expect any of us to be balls of sunshine in the morning, now can you?

Point taken. Shall we move on?

Yeah, we can do that. This is good coffee by the way.

Thanks. So tell me about your reaction when Jude pulled up in the towtruck with a motorcycle on the back and a perfect stranger in the cab beside him. Looking back, do you think that maybe you were a bit harsh under the circumstances?

No.

Care to elaborate?

Yeah, as long as you don’t mind me answering a question with a question. How would you feel if one of your kids showed up on your doorstep with a dusty stranger and a busted up old motorcycle?

Curious, but then, I love old bikes and would jump at the opportunity to help work on one. As for the stranger, well, considering he looked about as lively as a wrung-out dishrag, I’d like to think I’d have been cautious but welcoming.

Goody for you. I’ve been looking out for Jude since we were kids. I’ve seen all of the impulsive shit he’s gotten into and the aftermath too. In that instance, I couldn’t help but feel like he was being gullible and we were about to be taken advantage of. You watch true crime shows, you’ve seen how it works. The good Samaritan who pulls over to help a stranded motorist and ends up getting carjacked, beaten, robbed or killed. The concerned individual who, out of the goodness of their heart, invites the down on their luck drifter to stay with them for a couple days and ends up murdered in their bed. There’s a lot of good people in the world, I know this. But there are plenty of bad, too, and I for one would like to make it through the rest of my life without becoming a statistic.

Fair enough, but if you felt so strongly about it, why not have Jude drive him into town, drop him off somewhere and be done with it. Or do it yourself if you were so worried about your brother? In the end, you let him in and offered him the couch to sleep on and you were the one, not 24 hours later, who made the decision to let him stay with you guys until he could get that bike back on the road.

I’m also the one who went ahead and asked Clark to do a background check too, don’t forget.

True.

Look, by the time he got done cooling off in the shower and getting dressed, he was shaking, bad, so I sat him on the couch and went to prep some sides for dinner. By the time Jude came home with the food, Nash had passed out. He was pale, and when I tried to wake him so he could get some food in him, he didn’t even twitch not one little bit. Now, I can’t say that I slept so soundly that night. I spent half of it listening for signs of him moving around downstairs, poking into things, and there wasn’t a peep. Not even a creek of floorboards to suggest that he got up to use the bathroom, and that backpack of his that I brought in for him, well, you can be damn sure I searched it for weapons before I left it in the bathroom for him.

Kind of figured. So are you implying that getting a peek at some of his ink had nothing to do with your change of heart.

Did I say that?

No.

Then don’t imply things I didn’t say. The ink had me curious, no doubt, but the conversation we had in the office the following day helped a great deal too. So did all the things I learned about him through the background check. The things he didn’t say.

Understandable. He does tend to play his cards a bit close to the vest.

As outdated as that saying is, it’s especially true of him when we’re playing cards. Not only that but I’ve yet to figure out any of his tells and he can bluff with the best of them. I enjoy the challenge of playing with him and he’s added a new dynamic to the game.

So, if I was to paraphrase a line from one of my favorite novels, which would he be. Someone who goes, or someone who stays?

The jury is still out on that.

And you?

What? Going or staying? A year ago that would be easy to answer. Staying. Always.

And now?

At the very least my eyes have been opened to the possibility that there might be things away from here that I would enjoy seeing or doing. But this will always be home. I’m just coming to see that I don’t have to live here for the rest of my days for that to be the case. I don’t have any plans at the moment to go any further than Virginia, but my mind is more open to the possibility than ever before, and I’ve even begun poking around the internet, looking at photos and checking places out.

I’d be curious to see what comes of it.

You and me both.  

Now that some time has passed since Nash’s arrival and a few things in your life have settled down as much as they can in a small town like yours, what’s next?

No clue, but there won’t be a dull moment, that’s for certain. Honestly, though, the possibilities are limited only by the imagination.  There is a salvage yards full of parts and pieces and a stream of ideas that some days more closely resembles a flood. I’ve been getting better at writing them down when they come and it makes for some good conversation around the supper table each night.

That’s always good to hear.

So are we all set?

Just one more, question, if you don’t mind.  

Fine, but let me refill my coffee cup first.

[Pause]

Better?

Much.

What’s the deal with you and that Challenger? You came up with some pretty intriguing ideas involving it and a particular someone in various stages of undress.  How did that all work out for you?

And on that note, you can consider this interview over.

Halfway to Someday Character Interview with Ryker

Coming January 27th, 2020 

Good Afternoon, Ryker. I want to thank you for agreeing to sit down with me today.

No problem. The sky looks like it’s gearing up for another storm anyway. I’d rather be in here with the fireplace and music than outside slogging through the snow.

I’m guessing you’ve had enough of the snow for the time being.

I wouldn’t say that. Winter has always been my favorite season. The pond has frozen over beautifully and there are a few trout in there that owe me a rematch. Maybe this time the little bastards won’t make off with a free meal.

Does that happen often?

Wouldn’t be any fun if it didn’t.  

So, you like the challenge, then?

Of course. What’s the point of doing something if there’s no effort required?

Point taken. So, what would you say would be the best way you could spend a weekend or any free time you might have?

Doing something physical, preferably involving water in some way. Swimming, fishing, canoeing, ice hockey, whitewater rafting, I’ve climbed frozen waterfalls, gone cage diving to watch sharks and even done some waterfall kayaking when the opportunity arose. Suffice it to say I like the thrill and the hints of danger involved.

And yet, you balked at the idea of joining the polar bear club when Jesse suggested you join him in it this year.

Freezing sensitive parts of my anatomy is not something I’d classify as a thrill.

Even when there’s a chance a certain blond rocker might see fit to help you warm them back up again?

There is that.

Given your love of thrill-seeking, I’m willing to bet there’s little that scares you.

Not true.

Okay, then what’s your greatest fear?

Failing the people who depend on me and watching someone get hurt because of something I failed to take into account. That’s why I spend so much time running scenarios over in my head, jotting down the what-ifs and possibilities until I’ve mapped out all of the potential outcomes and the risks involved. There’s a fine line between risk-taking and challenging my physical limitations and being reckless.

Is that something you had to learn the hard way, or was there some early event in your life that shaped the way you look at things now?

A little of both, to be perfectly honest. I’m an only child but being one of the oldest out of my many cousins taught me to have a sense of responsibility for someone besides myself. Of course, as a kid, I didn’t necessarily see that as a good thing. More like an annoyance and an unwanted burden. I remember this one time my dad and my uncle Desmond sent Kyle’s older brother Colin and I out to check the collection containers on the maple trees we’d tapped. We’d only checked a few when Colin, who was about ten at the time, started complaining that he was tired. Well, you know how teenagers are, moody as fuck, and at thirteen I was no different. He wanted to take a break, I wanted to hurry up and get done so we could go back to the cabin and play video games. After we checked another tree he sat down and refused to budge, so I left him there and continued on, figuring he’d either catch up or go back home. Instead, he got lost and it was well after dark before someone found him. Needless to say, I caught a spectacular lecture about all the things that could have gone wrong and how bad the outcome could have been. I’m not sure who yelled louder, my dad or my uncle, but they sure impressed upon me a sense of leadership and accountability from that point forward.

Well, I’m glad the story had a happy ending.

You and me both.

It obviously still haunts you and knowing some of the other things you’ve endured since then, I think it’s best to switch to a more upbeat topic of conversation. Speaking of which, what would you say is the best way someone could go about cheering you up when you’re down?

Just by taking my mind off whatever it is that has me upset in the first place, which Jesse has a habit of doing without even trying. I’ll be the first to admit that I have an unhealthy tendency to brood, so something that can take me out of my head and drag me into the present goes along way towards cheering me up, especially if it involves music and laughter, which, ironically enough, are the two things that also comprise the most embarrassing moment of my life. Something Kyle is very fond of bringing up. He’s even shared it with Jesse, which I will eventually pay him back for.

Well, seeing as how you ripped the door off Pandora’s box, you might as well share it with the rest of us.

Gee thanks.

Of course, I could always ask Kyle to spill it, embellishments and all.

Talk about not playing fair. Fine. Shortly after Wild Child’s second album, I happened to be spending the week at my aunt and uncle’s the same time Kyle was home visiting. Seeing as how long, uninterrupted showers are a bit of a luxury for me, I decided to indulge in one early in the morning when I figured everyone else would still be asleep. I got so into it I started singing some of the songs from the album. Butchering them, really, considering I was trying to hit all of those high notes Jesse hits with ease. Imagine my surprise and utter mortification when I stepped out of the bathroom to see Kyle leaning against the wall across from the door, shit-eating grin on his face, with his phone, in his hand, recording my efforts. No way was I letting him keep that, so I took off after him when he bolted, the two of us running around the island in the kitchen, Kyle playing keep-away with it just out of reach. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to go over the island, figuring surprise and athleticism would give me the edge. I forgot how fanatically my aunt Irene can be about cleaning. Picture a cat on a pledge polished table, complete with arms and legs windmilling and a spectacular belly flop onto the kitchen floor right at Colin’s feet when he was sneaking in to return the carton of eggs he’d ‘borrowed.’ Talk about ending up with egg on my face, literally, and Kyle, that little shit, made off with that recording. I just hope he doesn’t still have it stashed away somewhere.

Well if he does, I’m sure he’ll bring it out at the most inopportune time.

Tell me about it. Why couldn’t you ask about Kyle’s more embarrassing moments, I’ve got a ton of those.

I’ll bet, though in all fairness, you did open the door to that question.

Yeah, yeah.

Unfortunately, we’re out of time, but if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be posing the same question to Jesse when we have him on the hot seat next week.

And you best believe I’ll be tuning in to hear what he’s got to say.

Rainbow Snippet June 22, 2019

I haven't done one of these in a LONG time. It's great to be back The Snippet I am sharing today comes from my newly released book Tripping Over the Edge of Night.

Derrick tried as he added pepper, salt, paprika and cayenne pepper to the flour and stirred them together with a fork. “I still don’t get it.”

The only response from Mason was a laugh as he set about washing the two large red potatoes Derrick had purchased.

“What?”

“I tell you what, after dinner I’ll show you what I mean.”

Derrick cocked an eyebrow at him, huffed and shook his head, before putting the bowl aside and moving to get out the wings. “Not sure I wanna know.”

“That’s up to you.”

The steady thunk, thunk, thunk of Mason cutting up the potatoes filled the room, as Derrick patted the wings dry and dumped them in the flour, turning them over and over to get them coated in the seasoning mix. Recipe said to set them aside in the fridge for twenty-minutes to and hour, so he shoved them in and went about lining two baking sheets with foil and preheating the oven.

“Goddamnit!”

“Seriously?” Mason remarked without even looking over. “What did you do to yourself now.”

“Nothing. Just can’t stop thinking about the damned zip ties now, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Mason remarked, snickering as he continued to chop.

https://www.amazon.com/Tripping-Over-Night-Layla-Dorine-ebook/dp/B07T14NP6C

Motivation Monday Feb 4, 2019

Trying something new this month, as a way of building up to the March 24^th release of Gypsy’s Rogue. Today’s topic is motivation and in this case, what inspired Gypsy’s Rogue. Gypsy first popped into my head almost four years ago, on a road trip along the back roads of rural Iowa and up into rural Minnesota. In fact, in the opening scene of Gypsy’s Rogue as Gypsy and Fester, their dog, were bouncing along the gravel road with the radio turned up on their way back to the farm Gypsy grew up in,  the songs that are referenced in that scene are the same songs that were playing on the radio in my truck when Gypsy first spoke up, and through the breed of dog is different, Fester was inspired by one of my own beloved pets.

So many times, when I’m out there on the back roads, I have a notebook, pens, a camera, even some old comforters and pillows for laying out in the bed of the truck when I want to cloud watch. Those are the kind of lazy days I love and usually the kind that have inspired stories, characters, poetry and even drawings. 

So much of my life in rural Iowa is reflected in Gypsy’s Rogue, from the cat tails beside the pond where I fish, to the swap meets where Gypsy and Rogue go to stock up their farms, to the overall feel and description of farm country, the people, Main Street of the nearest town, and the way people come together to help one another when they’re in need. 

There were moments though, when writing the story got extremely difficult. Their views on religion, for one, and the things they had experienced in their dealings with pastors or preachers or even over zealous church folks were a direct reflection on my own experiences growing up and into adulthood. Gyspy identifies as gender fluid, as I myself do, though I have not adapted the They/Them pronouns that Gypsy prefers. Instead, to many people, I am ‘Blue’ and ‘Blue’ doesn’t identify as he or she, just ‘Blue,’ and yes, some days like Gypsy I prefer to dress masculine and my view of myself in my mind’s eye is very different from looking in the mirror, which can be startling at times. Sometimes, when I see the female body I live in, I have this jarring moment of ‘oh,’ and a feeling of disappointment because my mind and the mirror don’t match. Of course, there are other days when I enjoy pulling on the dresses and the heels, dolling up my hair, putting on a little makeup and wanting to feel pretty and confident in my own skin. When I was younger, I shunned that half, buried it under thick layers and baggy tops, thinking I had to be one or the other, but the one great thing about getting older is learning that I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself.  Writing Gypsy’s Rogue has allowed me to verbalize some of those feelings for the first time in my life and more freely express that part of myself. 

In addition, Rogue’s pansexuality is also another reflection of me and not being hung up on gender when it comes to love and relationships. Like Rogue says in the book ‘I like who I like,’ bottom line, and as he spills out on the page, it is very clear to see that he refuses to conform or change to fit anyone else, loves passionately, and is as loyal as the day is long to people who have earned his love, trust and loyalty, much like me. 

The downtown Chattanooga scene, meeting the band and their dog, Ultra Plague Dog 2000, wandering the city with them that first night in town, that was my experience of my first night in Chatt, exploring downtown and meeting those three and their dog who’d just hopped off a train from New Mexico. I’d just hopped off a bus from Massachusetts, and wandering around, sharing experiences and stories of our adventures, made the whole experience a lot less terrifying. 

I have to admit, there were moments when I was afraid I wouldn’t finish their story. For about nine months they silently sat in the three seasons porch scene, content to enjoy each other’s presence and completely ignore me. My own fault, really, for trying to storyboard out the ending to something that was already flowing naturally. Once the storyboard went in the fire pit, they broke out the fudge stripped cookies and marshmallows (my favorite way to make S’mores, by the way) and came alive again.

It’s my hope that when Gypsy’s Rogue is released, their struggle, their pain, their laughter, their triumphs, and their belief and understanding of who and what family is, all come through as clearly for the ones who read it as it did for me. For now, I’ll say happy Monday, and please enjoy the little taste of the story below.

Once the introductions had been made, they stood around awkwardly silent for just a moment, before Gypsy asked, “What kind of music do you play?”

“A little bit of everything.” Kiowa said. “Folk, rock, blues, you name it. We’ve played in Texas, Arizona, anywhere the train tracks go. We just hop on and see where it takes us.”

They couldn’t help but smile at that, a reminder of the carnival and the anticipation of each new town. “That sounds divine, and kind of terrifying. Aren’t you afraid of slipping and getting sucked under the wheels or something?”

“Naaa,” Kiowa replied. “We only hop on when it’s just getting started. That way we can boost Plague dog on first and scramble up beside him. We don’t jump off unless it’s real slow either, can’t risk bustin’ a leg when you’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that happened once and it wasn’t pleasant,” Pete said. “Most times, we just stare out the car and watch the scenery go past. If a town looks big enough, or interesting enough, we’ll climb off and check it out. Food sucks though.”

Even as he was saying that, he was settling down at a nearby table, rummaging through his bag to pull out a can of sardines and some Popeye spinach. Gypsy fought to suppress the shudder that went through them as they watched him eat them cold, finally having to turn away and pet Plague Dog and Fester who’d been nudging at their leg.

“So is Ziggy’s where you’re going to play?” They asked as they lavished attention on the dogs.

“We hope. A friend hooked us up with the name of the owner and said we should check it out, that he’s always looking for new bands. If it doesn’t work out we’ll play downtown as long as the cops are cool about not running people off.”

“Why would they run people off?”

“They don’t like panhandling,” Lydia supplied. “Well, some don’t, others are cool about it and a few have even tipped us after listening to us play. It just depends on the city really. In some cities there are musicians every other block and no one cares because they love the music and they see the art in what we do.”

“Wow,” Gypsy said, eying them. “I’d love to hear you play.”

“Hear that Plague Dog, looks like we’re gonna do a mini show,” Kiowa said, and in a flash he had his guitar out and Lydia pulled out her fiddle. Gypsy sat, enraptured as they played and Pete sung, keeping time with drumsticks he used to tap out a beat on the table. A few people wandered by, lingered, listened, tossed some money in the guitar case and swayed along to the beat. Gypsy found themselves swaying too, eyes closed; letting the music wash their troubles away.

By the time they were done playing they’d made twenty-three bucks and a bunch of compliments. At one point, Gypsy’s thoughts flashed to Rogue and they found wondered if he ever did this when he took his guitar into the city or if he just stuck to playing at the occasional club.

Pete’s voice was good, strong and consistent, but they couldn’t help comparing it to the smoky richness of Rogue’s singing and the way he had of peering into your soul in the middle of a song. They’d found that out the hard way, one night when he’d put the Tequila away and was downing whiskeys in between songs, all dark, broody melodies about the world going away and everything being broken. They recalled the lone tear that had slid from his eye as he finished the final cord, the aching plea in his voice to find the thing he’d never had before. They’d wondered what it was and if he’d tell them if they asked. In the end, they hadn’t. That would have been getting too personal and there always seemed to be a wall he tried to keep between them; an invisible barrier he put up whenever Gypsy inched too close.

“You guys are really good,” Gypsy praised as they put their instruments away.

Pete licked his lips. “Sure hope Ziggy thinks so. Guess we’d better keep trying to find the place.”