Welcome today S.A Garcia another talented female author who writes M/M Romance.
I Don’t Write with My Vagina
Many writers dismiss the topic of if this or that party can write a certain genre. The thing is I often notice that the writers who quickly dismiss certain topics are writers who already enjoy a solid fan base built on a few years of writing the same genre. Of course it is easy for them to dismiss a subject.
It is not so easy for others who still fight certain stupid prejudices.
Care to know one of my major pet peeves? Here goes; when a reader claims, “I don’t like to read m/m romance written by a female,” my “what the fuck” sensor trips into the red zone in impressive speed. My fists clench plus I know my teeth clench and grind. My many caps tell me that truth.
Sadly I have seen this declaration more than once.
Writers should embrace readers and treat them to chocolate and whipped cream kisses. I always like to do that to my readers. But when a reader makes such a narrow-minded claim about m/m romance, I know they are not reading my novels. In short, I can spank them for making a ridiculous statement. I wonder if these same readers ever read anything except m/m romance written by gay males. Case in point; do they read historical novels? I hate to break this news, but those authors aren’t ancients who have lived long enough to document the Regency period from a first hand basis. I know that is a shocking revelation, but unless a few writers are vampires, this is not the case.
Do the readers who reject anything but gay male romance written by a gay males read science fiction? Fantasy? Need I say more? Do these readers think certain writers have actually encountered dragons, elves or wizards? I do wonder. I confess that I have never met a real elf or wizard, at least not to my knowledge.
Why do these readers think that a female can’t write gay male romance? In my case, I wonder how badly they freak out over a lesbian writing gay male romance. I seriously do wonder until my poor wonderer hurts and smokes from the stress. Eeeeks, not only don’t I have a cock, but I don’t make a habit of examining the male appendage. Surely that means I can never understand male emotions like love, sadness, bitterness, longing, revenge or loss. I don’t have a cock.
Hey, I don’t have a cock, but I can make a point. Stubborn readers who draw lines in the literary sand and refuse to cross them miss out on too many great reads. Does what lurks between the legs really matter when it comes to writing? Last time I looked, my vagina doesn’t dictate the story line or do the typing. As much as that sounds like fun, my brain tends to control the serious writing issues. When I write, I examine the human condition, not a narrow band involving gender.
Readers who dig in their heels and pout about what gender or sexual inclination writes the stories reminds me of the days of old when women were not allowed to portray woman onstage. How stupid was that concept? Let’s see, women were denied the vote, control of their money, and by and large control of their lives.
Sorry, a lesbian cannot be banned from writing gay male romance. Let’s hear it for freedom!
I rest my case.
In case you’re not ready to put me to the torch, read on for an excerpt from my new book “An Elf for All Centuries.” The novel features lots of gay male sex which, judging from reviews, passes the written by a person with a vagina test.
Elf Prince Fabion enjoys the perfect supermodel lifestyle until wizard Matradorian chucks him back in time to save Henda, the sexy, powerful elf king. Since the death of his lover, Henda has lingered in a half-alive, half-dead state. Surprisingly, Fabion is a spiritual match for Henda's dead lover, so only he can save the dying king.
Fabion uses his sexy bod and sweet lovin' to revive the elf king. All seems well until he realizes that by saving Henda, his own timeline was destroyed and he must stay in this ancient land forever. Fabion pitches the biggest temper tantrum of any century.
Soon a new threat emerges which puts his life in fresh danger. Now who wants to kill him?
Henda body slammed Fabion into the sitting room table. Unnngh… wow, the hard, wooden table sure abused the spine. The frenzied Fabion was too busy holding on and gasping in wet, hot pleasure to protest. Fuck. Amazing. Did his powerful Henda have a cock or a telephone pole swinging between his thighs? Whatever this potent male swirled around in Fabion's ass sure made Fabion experience twinkling stars, shimmering comets, and strange, lime-green light flashes. He imagined himself as a cup of coffee violently stirred by one long, hard spoon. Ouch, did those green flashes mean brain damage? His head had bounced off the sitting room wall pretty damned hard.
"Henda, what the hell are you—ooo—"
The powerful elf yanked him off the table and maneuvered them toward the bedroom. Fabion wrapped around Henda, laughed, and enjoyed the sexy ride down the hall. Yee-hah! As he walked, Henda continued jamming the pile driver into Fabion. Amazing. Yeee-haaa redux. The big dude hid hydraulics in his wicked cock!
Henda's wanton actions stunned Fabion. Imagine, he had coaxed the stately big dude into acting like a rampaging sexual demon.
Pained ecstasy made Fabion whoop in amazement.
His smiling big dude gasped out a teasing question. "Am I too much for my youthful one?"
When he controlled his own gasping, Fabion nipped at Henda's smiling lips. "Keep bringing it on, you wild thing! This is where I need you to be my perpetual motion machine. You can do me until I pass out. This is… you are… ooo, yeah, baby, please—"
Fabion squirmed in fresh joy. He bounced his ass up and down. He hoped his big dude managed not to drop him even as he tried forcing Henda to come before they reached the bed.
Loud gasps threatened their progress. "My love, I hate to admit the fact, but throwing you across the various surfaces exhausts even my royal stamina. Do you mind if we end our epic round of sex in our bed? I love ending in a traditional manner."
"Traditional? You're funny, Big Dude." Fabion rolled his inner ass muscles.
"You are a lovely tease." Henda carefully positioned them to drop in swift grace.
Fabion's torso sunk into the bed. His pillow cradled his head. He stared up at Henda in amazement. "Big Dude, wow, what skillful aim. Thanks for not dropping me on the floor."
"You act so dazed with sexual glory, I wonder if you would even notice."
"You gotta point and wow, one fabulous point deep where it counts!"
Crooning in merry lust, Fabion arched his neck back and rolled his head against the feather pillow. He kept his long legs wrapped around Henda's perfect waist. Wow-wowie. Yooowww, whatever happened deep inside him defined killer. "Hey, Big Dude, do that trick again."
Henda chuckled softly and maneuvered his hips slightly to the left. "Is this what my darling one needs?"
"Woo, absolutely, Big Dude. Lover, are you sick of me—ooo, yeah—telling you how sublimely boffo you are?"
Another chuckle escaped Henda's panting throat. "Boffo? Trust me, Fabion, you are the first one to call me boffo. I gather boffo is a pleasant thing to be?"
Fabion managed to laugh through his impending blast off. "Absolutely, Big Dude. Boffo ranks right up there with killer."
Henda arched his back toward the ceiling. Yeow, perfect, the big dude slowly drove his cock back into Fabion in hard, incremental thrusts. His lover understood when to slow down the show. Excellent.
"You are killer boffo."
Henda smiled over Fabion's ecstatic face. "My dear beauty, you and I are going to sit down with a few bottles of, as you call it, tree sap vino and detail your strange utterances. How is killer a good thing?"
"Trust me, you studly elf, it is a compliment, like me saying 'I dig how you do the nasty'. Crap, holy cats, lover, how do you make your amazing dick twist radically hard? Your new treat is wickedly hot."
"My Fabion, tell me what pleases you, and I shall perform the act until you cannot stand the pleasure. I hate to sound boastful, but I can satisfy a lover for hours. Actually, since we act lively here, I fear I will not hold out as long as usual. I confess I am at physical limit."
Whew, cool to realize Henda also suffered from exhaustion. Fabion felt less wimpy.
Thanks for reading and many thanks to Heather for hosting me here today.
Who Am I?
Thirty years ago, I started writing m/m romance. My writing remained a secret lest my friends thought me a freak. Writing about men inserting tab A into slot B didn’t seem the norm for a female teenager. Reading Gordon Merrick, John Rechy and Larry Kramer helped me fill in informational gaps. Yes, I read those books only in my bedroom.
As the years progressed and I discovered my sexual path, I still wrote m/m romance, although the stories progressed from lurking in notebooks to hiding on the computer.
Now I am glad I kept the writing faith. Five published novellas and novels later, my life is a fun quandary of too many stories hindered by slow typing skills. I accept the silly challenge.
Facebook: Sandra Ann Garcia