Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!
Visit my Website for all the blurbs, excerpts and news!!
Friday, 20 April 2012
Eye Music - a coffee table book
Since I posted a few days ago about flondo's photos, you know full well that I am in awe of his art and his imagination. So you can guess how happy and honoured I was when he asked me to do a book together, with his photos (lucky you) and my poems (come on, come on, a bit of poetry never killed anyone).
And yes, the book is beginning to take shape and will be out and about in June! Stay tuned for further details!
Sunday, 15 April 2012
Welcome to Gilalion
A couple of weeks ago I reviewed Adonis Devereux's second novel, Bride for the God King. I am quite delighted to have grabbed this fearsome duo for a guest post, in occasion of their third novel's release. Leave a comment below for a chance to win a copy of Chasing Earth and Flame! Enjoy!
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I've always held a fascination with ancient Rome. I mean, has there been a more complex yet elegant political machine in the history of the world? Don't answer that! It's a rhetorical question, you history aficionados! I want to thank Katherine for her gracious invitation to us to guest blog today. I'm Adonis Devereux, but I'm only half of the author duo. See, we're a husband and wife writing team. The Mr. will be speaking with you all today. Anyway, back to ancient Rome. The civil, political, religious, and social structures of the Republic as well as the Empire were fluid, complementary, and for the most part completely corrupt. This is the vision of the city that we've applied to Nirrion, our fictional Rome-like metropolis. It's full of intrigue; it's got religion being used in the service of politics; it's got slaves and sex and blood and betrayal and every good thing you've come to expect from an epic story. Nirrion, city of the gods. Nirrion, city of coin. Come and enter a Republic threatened by bloodthirsty foreigners, crippled by a divided Senate, and doomed to fall unless two lovers can rise above their families' and racial differences to save the one place they both call home. Chasing Earth and Flame is just that story, and it's available from Evernight Publishing April 2nd, 2012. Thanks so much, Katherine, for having us here today! Anybody who wants a free copy of this our third novel, comment below for a chance to win. Also, like our author page on Facebook for access to exclusive content such as maps and recipes, unique to our fantasy world of Gilalion!
A.D.
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Nevia Akara Judal is the daughter of the First House of Nirrion, but though she is both a powerful elemental mage and a cunning political mind, she is her father's property. She is promised to Melenius, the only other noble elementalist in the city, but she is not certain she approves of her father's choice. She has a stronger will than anyone has ever given her credit for, and she is determined to find and keep the love of the only man who can conquer her heart of earth and flame.
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Melenius caught Nevia by the arm and pulled her into a curtained alcove.
“We will be seen,” Nevia whispered.
Melenius shook his head. Cena was due to begin in a few minutes, so he had to work quickly.
“This won’t take long.” He produced the anal plug he had shown her on their honeymoon.
It was Nevia’s turn to shake her head.
“Yes,” Melenius said. He pulled out a vial of scented oil from his small shoulder bag. Nevia’s frosty eyes widened, and he smiled in his airs at her coyness. He poured the oil over the plug, then rubbed it around the head and down its length. “Turn around.”
Nevia did so, but she kept her eyes on her husband. Melenius had never seen anything sexier than his beautiful wife looking over her shoulder with fear and anticipation trembling in her elements as he hitched up her dress. Her fine, white ass was just what he wanted, and his cock hardened. He considered taking her right there, but the sound of music coming from the atrium made him think better of it. The entertainment had arrived. Dinner was imminent, and they would be missed if they were not punctual.
Melenius dabbed a bit of oil on the rosebud of Nevia’s anus and rubbed it around with his thumb. Nevia moaned.
“Quiet!” Melenius’s tone was half serious, half mirthful.
He pressed the tip of the lubricated plug against her ass and slowly applied pressure. He did not at once break her wall, and he was surprised at her body’s unwillingness to allow entry. With a stronger but still gentle push, he felt the pop as the plug slipped into her back passage.
Nevia’s knees buckled, but she did not collapse. The temperature in the alcove plummeted, and though Melenius knew her fires were stoked, she fixed him with an icy glare.
Nevia stood and let her skirts fall back into place. “You dare toy with the ass of an Akara?” She raised her hand to slap Melenius, but he caught her by the wrist.
Melenius lightly bit that wrist as he tweaked her nipple with his other hand. “Now, go be a good girl, and eat your supper.” He opened the curtain and slapped her ass on the way out.
Nevia continued to murder him with her eyes, but her elements betrayed her increasing desire. He sensed her laughter on his winds.
Cena was an elaborate affair, much more so than Melenius would have expected for just a one-night stay in a provincial town. As exotic, half-naked slaves from far-away lands juggled fire sticks before them all, Melenius turned to Judal the Younger.
“I wonder, why all this?” he asked. He popped a fresh, green olive in his mouth.
Nevius, reclined on one elbow, sipped his mulled wine and answered without taking his eyes from the entertainment. “We are returning from a great victory. Though Belamal presses forward, there will be glory for us upon our return to Nirrion. Why not celebrate a little? This is my father’s villa, after all.”
“Fair enough.”
“Enjoy yourself, Firin,” Nevius said. “You and my sister are saviors of the republic.” Nevia’s couch was situated close to his so that their heads would be near each other for conversation. He leaned over and kissed her brow.
Melenius, on the other side of the low table laden with rich food, watched this sibling exchange, knowing that her ass was plugged, that her cunt was probably wet as spring rains.
Nevia betrayed nothing; she could not to her brother, anyway, but neither did her elements. She was cool, collected, and calm. Melenius nodded in her direction, raised his cup in a silent toast to her, and drank its contents. A slave refilled his cup at once. Nevia, playing at human expressions, narrowed her eyes at him. Melenius almost choked on his next drink.
Radish salads and oysters gave way to hot-boiled goose and songbirds with asparagus. Between the appetizers and the main course, clowns had come to re-enact the battle of Vieta. The actor who pantomimed Belamal wore comical armor, and his gold-painted face twisted in all manner of melodramatic expressions.
Nevius ripped hot, juicy meat from the bone with his teeth. “Belamal Triumphant, to be sure.” His mouth was half-full of goose. “Too bad Garalach isn’t here. He could’ve made your job in Vieta easier.”
Melenius felt the instant drop in temperature, and the braziers that burned around them dimmed.
“More wood.” Nevius snapped his fingers at the nearest slave.
Nevia did not look at Melenius. Her eyes were fixed on the small plate she held on her lap. The name of Garalach clearly upset her, and Melenius wanted to go to her, to hold her and remind her of how he had been deceived. He had never stopped loving or wanting Nevia. It had not been his intention to betray her.
But Nevia would not return his glance.
The sun disappeared from the sky, and a cold wind blew through the peristyle and into the atrium...
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Friday, 13 April 2012
flondo - an inspiration
"wig'n'leather" - flondo, 2010
As a rule my inspiration comes from characters, not plots. I need to see my characters, know how they look, in great and sometimes intimate detail. I cannot write a character if I don’t have a picture to start from. Once an intriguing character is there, I will somehow weave a story around him; yes I wrote him, because men interest me far more than women. What can I say, ahem.
Now, intriguing men don’t exactly grow on trees, but they can be glimpsed here and there as you go through life. Sometimes it’s the usual suspects, actors, via movies or photos. Sometimes they are more or less literally the boys next door. I found muses in the most unexpected places, but I must admit that lately my inspiration orbit is more or less centred around the work of one particular photographer, I discovered by chance (?) last year.
Imagine Ms Wyvern one day, sleepily accessing her Flickr home page, discovering that a certain flondo had faved one of her flower pics. Imagine her making her way to this flondo’s (“What sort of name is that anyway?”) photostream, fully expecting a collection of garden pictures (because of the flower fave), and being blasted backwards (double tumble) out of her little innocent camping chair when flondo’s photos began to load. Flop, look at all those hot flowers! (no, I didn’t say flop)
Needless to say, flowers have nothing to do with this.
"Please, SIR?" - flondo, 2012
What I had entered was not a garden, but an inexhaustible, sophisticated, dreamy study on the beauty of man. It was masterful, raunchy, poetical, bizarre, baroque, elegant, unbounded and utterly, delightfully shameless.
I was in the middle of writing Black Carnival, and all of a sudden, I found myself wholly at home.
Flondo can take just about anything, and make it look sexy. Don’t ask me how. I don’t know, he just does. You think a muscular fellow wearing one fishnet stocking would look quaint? Think again. It looks damn hot. You think a rope of pearls has no business adorning a fuzzy male butt? You’d be surprised, really. It maybe that I am very weird. But if so, flondo’s weirdness matches my own, and that is good enough for me.
Then there is the question of light. Either light travels slower in Toronto (why is all the cool stuff happening in Canada anyway?), or flondo is doing something supernatural with it. Light in his photographs is tame and plays tricks. It grazes on a model’s skin, making its texture come alive. You can feel some of his photos in your fingertips. Flondo’s light makes dancing shadows on screens and picks hints and glimpses of bodies in the darkness, turning them into dreamlike bronze.
Some of his models are picture-perfect, some are rugged and “real”. They all look hot in his pictures. Maybe they all are really ΓΌber-sexy beasts, or maybe he has a talent for expressing their particular individual sexiness. I don’t know, it is all part of the great mystery of his art.
He knows his way into Photoshop as I know my way into my trousers (perhaps better, all things considered), so that fantasy and reality have no borders here. In his pictures you enter not an imaginary universe but a thousand imaginary universes. There is enough imagination here to fill a hundred common artists. You never know what he will come up with tomorrow, except that it will be surprising and beautiful.
"Elegance" - flondo, 2011
There is a haunting, “alive” quality in flondo’s photography, especially if you experience it en masse on his Flickr page; he has a knack for capturing something in his models’ eyes, and these eyes upon eyes upon eyes, dark, sultry, thoughtful, absorbed, sometimes smiling, sometimes intimidating, piercingly present or lost in reverie, they all seem to follow you around as you pass.
They watch you as you watch them and as soon as you turn to go, they whisper behind your back. You are always on the verge of catching their words, but never quite.
What are flondo’s men saying?
I do not know for sure, but I keep going back, weaving tales of my own in the dark mystery of their whispers.
"Mysterious" - flondo, 2012
You can see flondo's pictures here:
Or, if you don't have access to flickr's restricted pictures, you can see a sample here:
http://wix.com/flondo/frederick
ALL rights on all of the above pictures belong solely to flondo. Do not share, use, or reproduce without flondo's written consent. Apart from the lawyers, you'll deal with an angry me.
ALL rights on all of the above pictures belong solely to flondo. Do not share, use, or reproduce without flondo's written consent. Apart from the lawyers, you'll deal with an angry me.
Sunday, 8 April 2012
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
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