Whazzup with En? - Josh Lanyon, Ebooks, Original Fic, etc...
Ok, so I’ve got a new obsession. Well, not really “new” and not really an “obsession,” - it’s all of a piece as I’m sure you’ve guessed from the things I’ve been posting lately.
First of all. Josh Lanyon. jgraeme2007 - Is there a cooler guy in the whole universe? I’ve just finished the fourth (and currently, last) Adrien English mystery, “Death of a Pirate King,” and I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a series of books more. I tried to spread them out and only read one a month or so, but after finishing the third one last week, I couldn’t not start immediately on the fourth. And you know what?
I cried at the end of the fourth book. I’ve not cried at a book, in well, hell, a very, very long time.
He’s written a bunch of other stuff, too, - all of which can be found at various ebook sites - i.e.,Loose-Id, All Romance Ebooks, MLR Press as well as at Amazon, etc. Josh's books are nearly all "hard-boiled" mystery types and the writing is beautifully spare, the characters are wonderful (Sigh. Adrien. Jake. Emma.), the mysteries fun and intriguing, and the wit!!! The wit is almost what I love the most. Droll. Wry. My favorite kind.
And you know what reading his stuff has proved to me??? That one does not have to get all flowery and overly descriptive in their writing to be effective. He’s also taught me a lot about writing m/m in his book “Man, Oh Man! Writing M/M Fiction for Kinks & Cash,” - which can also be found in ebook form at All Romance Ebooks or at Amazon & other outlets. It’s truly a primer on all the things that make a good M/M romance. And, I'd think, useful for fanfic writers as well as those who are writing original fic.
He also seems to be truly appreciative of his readers and loves to discuss the writing process, & c. His website is HERE And he offers a manuscript perusal service, which, once I get started on some of the original fic I’ve had in mind for a while I think I’ll avail myself of.
To that end, you all know I’ve been rather experimenting with RPS as a way to “limber up” for writing the aforementioned original ideas. Here’s another piece - a prompt that I answered at comment_fic - the overall theme for the day was “angst” & the prompt was: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/anyone, the last goodbye. Warning for Watchmen RPS and D/s stuff, though there's really no smut involved.
Jeff ran his hand quickly through his hair and took a last look in the mirror. Damn. Black leather did suit him. His lip quirked upward, more in disbelief than in self- admiration. Narcissism had never really been his fault.
If anyone had told him six months ago that a few beers and shared commiseration over past failed love would have come to this, he’d be as likely to punch them as to look at them. Billy had trained him, told him what he wanted, opened his eyes to a lifestyle that had never existed in other than his darkest fantasies.
But here he was, anticipating Billy’s arrival, cock twitching at the thought. Already seeing Billy at the door, slipping through, and then sliding his pants down his legs and off. Falling to his knees and crawling toward him, all sinuous movement and lips moistened in anticipation. Eyes lowered. The “Hello, Sir,” spoken to Jeff’s booted feet.
Jeff adjusted himself and let out a long breath. Poured a couple of fingers of scotch into a glass and grabbed a cigar from the humidor. Sat down on the couch and waited.
He heard the familiar click and nonchalantly rolling the glass in his hand, ice clinking, took a last, long pull on the Cohiba. The smoke drifted from his mouth as Billy came through the door.
Jeff looked up, wanting to deliciously savor the unveiling of his Billy, but when Billy stepped into the room his hands did not go to his waist to unbuckle his belt and he did not drop to his knees. Jeff cocked his head and allowed his lips to move into a sneer, the carefully taught mien ready to pounce on Billy’s deliberate insubordination. It had taken a while, but Jeff wasn’t allowing the whole top from the bottom thing to happen much anymore.
“Hello, Sir,”
“Boy?”
“Ah, yeah. About that...”
Jeff put down the drink and let the cigar smolder in the ashtray. Sat forward on the couch, lips pursed, eyes narrowly focused.
“I um,” Billy started, not even looking at Jeff, hands held together in front of groin. “We needtotalk. CanIsitdown?” Spoken so quickly that Jeff barely heard him. But the knot had started to tighten in his gut.
“I, um,” Billy began again, as he sat on the couch next to Jeff. On the couch. Next to Jeff.
The fist in Jeff’s gut started to pull on the sinew, but he managed to gargle out the words.
“Speak up, boy.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not that you’re, well, man, Jeff, you’re about the hottest thing on two legs. And I’ve loved being with you, but I can’t…”
“Can’t?”
“This is killing me, Jeff. I know I got you into this, but it’s not good for me. I just…can’t. Can’t keep telling you how to top me, how the game is played. It’s…like I’m the top and it just not what I need. I need a real top.”
Jeff swallowed. Looked down at his Wescos, polished to an inch of their lives, both by boot-black and Billy’s tongue. Felt those delicious lips on his cock. Felt a little silly, all dressed up in black leather.
“I think you could be,” Billy hastened to add, “I mean, you are…it’s just that…”
“You have someone else in mind?’
Billy wouldn’t look at him. Didn’t.
“Who is it?”
Billy gulped. “It’s, um…Christian. Bale. Met him on…”
“I know,” said Jeff waving his hand. “You can go now. You’ve said what you came to say. Now get out.”
Billy closed his eyes tightly, and shook his head back and forth. “I’m sorry, really. Really sorry.”
The coil in Jeff’s stomach wound and the spring tightened. He managed to pick up his drink and cigar, managed to edge back on the couch. He took a sip and fixed Billy with a tight stare.
“Go. Now.”
The minute Billy left, the coil in Jeff’s belly sprung. He flung the glass against the wall, hearing the crash echo in the silence of the room. He watched, fascinated, as the amber liquid painted a dripping mural and didn’t even feel it when he ground the cigar out on his own thigh.
END
I really tried to keep the prose spare - and it had to be, since it was a comment-length fic - and the angst “manly” (I always thing of heartofslash’s “manly angst” icon) rather than syrupy. Again, it’s all a part of the grand origfic experimentation. Concrit welcome.
First of all. Josh Lanyon. jgraeme2007 - Is there a cooler guy in the whole universe? I’ve just finished the fourth (and currently, last) Adrien English mystery, “Death of a Pirate King,” and I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a series of books more. I tried to spread them out and only read one a month or so, but after finishing the third one last week, I couldn’t not start immediately on the fourth. And you know what?
I cried at the end of the fourth book. I’ve not cried at a book, in well, hell, a very, very long time.
He’s written a bunch of other stuff, too, - all of which can be found at various ebook sites - i.e.,Loose-Id, All Romance Ebooks, MLR Press as well as at Amazon, etc. Josh's books are nearly all "hard-boiled" mystery types and the writing is beautifully spare, the characters are wonderful (Sigh. Adrien. Jake. Emma.), the mysteries fun and intriguing, and the wit!!! The wit is almost what I love the most. Droll. Wry. My favorite kind.
And you know what reading his stuff has proved to me??? That one does not have to get all flowery and overly descriptive in their writing to be effective. He’s also taught me a lot about writing m/m in his book “Man, Oh Man! Writing M/M Fiction for Kinks & Cash,” - which can also be found in ebook form at All Romance Ebooks or at Amazon & other outlets. It’s truly a primer on all the things that make a good M/M romance. And, I'd think, useful for fanfic writers as well as those who are writing original fic.
He also seems to be truly appreciative of his readers and loves to discuss the writing process, & c. His website is HERE And he offers a manuscript perusal service, which, once I get started on some of the original fic I’ve had in mind for a while I think I’ll avail myself of.
To that end, you all know I’ve been rather experimenting with RPS as a way to “limber up” for writing the aforementioned original ideas. Here’s another piece - a prompt that I answered at comment_fic - the overall theme for the day was “angst” & the prompt was: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/anyone, the last goodbye. Warning for Watchmen RPS and D/s stuff, though there's really no smut involved.
Jeff ran his hand quickly through his hair and took a last look in the mirror. Damn. Black leather did suit him. His lip quirked upward, more in disbelief than in self- admiration. Narcissism had never really been his fault.
If anyone had told him six months ago that a few beers and shared commiseration over past failed love would have come to this, he’d be as likely to punch them as to look at them. Billy had trained him, told him what he wanted, opened his eyes to a lifestyle that had never existed in other than his darkest fantasies.
But here he was, anticipating Billy’s arrival, cock twitching at the thought. Already seeing Billy at the door, slipping through, and then sliding his pants down his legs and off. Falling to his knees and crawling toward him, all sinuous movement and lips moistened in anticipation. Eyes lowered. The “Hello, Sir,” spoken to Jeff’s booted feet.
Jeff adjusted himself and let out a long breath. Poured a couple of fingers of scotch into a glass and grabbed a cigar from the humidor. Sat down on the couch and waited.
He heard the familiar click and nonchalantly rolling the glass in his hand, ice clinking, took a last, long pull on the Cohiba. The smoke drifted from his mouth as Billy came through the door.
Jeff looked up, wanting to deliciously savor the unveiling of his Billy, but when Billy stepped into the room his hands did not go to his waist to unbuckle his belt and he did not drop to his knees. Jeff cocked his head and allowed his lips to move into a sneer, the carefully taught mien ready to pounce on Billy’s deliberate insubordination. It had taken a while, but Jeff wasn’t allowing the whole top from the bottom thing to happen much anymore.
“Hello, Sir,”
“Boy?”
“Ah, yeah. About that...”
Jeff put down the drink and let the cigar smolder in the ashtray. Sat forward on the couch, lips pursed, eyes narrowly focused.
“I um,” Billy started, not even looking at Jeff, hands held together in front of groin. “We needtotalk. CanIsitdown?” Spoken so quickly that Jeff barely heard him. But the knot had started to tighten in his gut.
“I, um,” Billy began again, as he sat on the couch next to Jeff. On the couch. Next to Jeff.
The fist in Jeff’s gut started to pull on the sinew, but he managed to gargle out the words.
“Speak up, boy.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not that you’re, well, man, Jeff, you’re about the hottest thing on two legs. And I’ve loved being with you, but I can’t…”
“Can’t?”
“This is killing me, Jeff. I know I got you into this, but it’s not good for me. I just…can’t. Can’t keep telling you how to top me, how the game is played. It’s…like I’m the top and it just not what I need. I need a real top.”
Jeff swallowed. Looked down at his Wescos, polished to an inch of their lives, both by boot-black and Billy’s tongue. Felt those delicious lips on his cock. Felt a little silly, all dressed up in black leather.
“I think you could be,” Billy hastened to add, “I mean, you are…it’s just that…”
“You have someone else in mind?’
Billy wouldn’t look at him. Didn’t.
“Who is it?”
Billy gulped. “It’s, um…Christian. Bale. Met him on…”
“I know,” said Jeff waving his hand. “You can go now. You’ve said what you came to say. Now get out.”
Billy closed his eyes tightly, and shook his head back and forth. “I’m sorry, really. Really sorry.”
The coil in Jeff’s stomach wound and the spring tightened. He managed to pick up his drink and cigar, managed to edge back on the couch. He took a sip and fixed Billy with a tight stare.
“Go. Now.”
The minute Billy left, the coil in Jeff’s belly sprung. He flung the glass against the wall, hearing the crash echo in the silence of the room. He watched, fascinated, as the amber liquid painted a dripping mural and didn’t even feel it when he ground the cigar out on his own thigh.
END
I really tried to keep the prose spare - and it had to be, since it was a comment-length fic - and the angst “manly” (I always thing of heartofslash’s “manly angst” icon) rather than syrupy. Again, it’s all a part of the grand origfic experimentation. Concrit welcome.