One Little Lie

I am in the zone today. What should I write about to introduce this post? I said to myself. Was there anything interesting that happened today? Did I hear about anything worth sharing? I thought about it, or I tried, but there were no thoughts in my head.

All I did today is write. All that was in my head was related to writing. So good for me, being productive, but that doesn’t give me much to go off of.

Enough about me, what about you? Did you get a lot accomplished today? Then it’s time for a break. If you didn’t, then it’s time for a break anyway. I have found that it is always time for a break, which is why I’ve had problems being productive in the past. Anyway, go check out One Little Lie.

newollieMergedLuke Chambers isn’t gay.

His boyfriend might disagree. His girlfriend would definitely disagree. Wait, let’s back up.

Bisexual. He’s supposed to be bisexual. Except there’s a few problems with that:
He never liked a guy before Ryan.
He doesn’t like that drag race show every gay person he knows watches.
He has zero fashion sense.

Okay maybe that last one doesn’t matter. And he only knows, like, four gay people. Five if you count him. Do you count him? Luke has no idea.

Here’s what he does know:

He likes Ryan Miller.
His parents are suspicious of how much time he spends with Ryan.
He agreed to help Lydia and now he has a boyfriend and a fake girlfriend.

What could possibly go wrong?

A lot, probably.

Luke wants to figure things out. He wants to know what to tell his parents. And he wants to help his friend Lydia. Most of all, he wants to keep dating Ryan. He wants to do all these things at the same time but doesn’t know if he can.

There’s a shelf life to this closeted thing. He just doesn’t know if he can come out. Can he can be himself on his own terms and still have Ryan?

~~~

One Little Lie is a humorous coming of age tale that includes snark, shenanigans, and a developing relationship between a jock and a nerd. This YA novel featuring an MM romance is the second in a series but can be read on its own.

The Meaning of Life… or at least names

Okay, this post doesn’t discuss the meaning of life, unless you mean the Monty Python movie, which I will discuss now to say that I thought it was alright. I saw it in like fourth grade after I watched and loved Holy Grail and I didn’t think MOL was as good but I would likely appreciate it more now.

Actually, I do have a guess about the meaning of life: dogs. That’s it. Just dogs. Dogs are totally the meaning of life.

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Anyway, I wanted to discuss name meanings. My book What Love Means came out in April, and April is also the name of a character, the little sister of one of the protagonists. Apparently I like month names because the last name of another character is March.

I wondered what April meant; did it have a cool name meaning? If you’re named April, does your name just mean the fourth month of the year? No, it’s a little better than that. April is latin (isn’t everything?) and means open.

Then I wondered what my other characters names meant? Brendan is the other little sibling in the book and his name means brave.

Calvin goes by Cal. He got the short end of the stick. His name means bald, but I promise he has hair.

Max means greatest. I think Max would be very pleased with his name meaning and Cal’s while Cal would not be amused.

What Love Means is available on Amazon. Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter:

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Max                                                                                                           

Bodies filled the decrepit, rusting building while the chilly night air had many openings to invade the space inside the run-down walls of the old warehouse. Maybe that was why several empty barrels held fires or maybe that was for ambiance. It didn’t seem like this forgotten place would have any electricity, yet someone somehow got music playing.

People cheered and danced while the booze flowed liberally. Then glow sticks appeared. This was going to turn into a rave. I fucking hated raves. I missed the days when it was just me and the guys breaking into some ramshackle place that no one even used or cared about but went through the trouble of locking anyway.

And now snobs infiltrated the party, their stares boring into me – the scowling guy who filled out his leather jacket – with disdain and grudging interest. Rich kids were all the same, with critical eyes and upturned noses, both envious and judging of those below them. Good to fool around with sometimes but that was all they were good for.

Continue reading “The Meaning of Life… or at least names”