Friday, December 28, 2012

The sign reads: PRE-ORDER!

           So, I get this e-mail last night at 5:31pm that says my novel is now listed on the “coming soon” page of Dreamspinner Press’ website!! *stoked* I click over. It is all the way at the bottom of the “Coming Soon” page because the release date for My Roommate’s a Jock? Well, Crap! is December 31, 2012!! So… can you say NEW YEAR’S EVE PRESENT? So freakin’ exciting! So, of course, I texted several friends right away! (Am I using too many exclamation points?) !!!!!!

            Along with my PRE-ORDER link, I got a “package” of promo stuff. Like a banner of the book – gonna put that on Facebook I guess – and some picture that can be used on book marks and postcards. I DID send out postcards to book stores for WLINE. Hmm, maybe I’ll do that again. Can’t hurt.

            With the idea of “pre-order” in mind… R.B. was the first to tell me she pre-ordered it! How exciting is that? Dude! I’m like flyin’!! Sales for When Love is Not Enough were good enough for me, but not so competitive and lucrative for the publisher. (And we all know publishers like to make money, else why do they publish ANYTHING?) So, I’m really looking forward to this one! I need my publisher to be excited about me as an author. I want them to say, “Cool, Wade’s sent another novel over to read. Yay! Better get on it, might be the next bestseller!” … As apposed to the alternative – “Oh, Wade’s sent us another ‘loser’ novel to try and sell. Gee, do we read it now, or wait until we have nothing better to do?” I know I’ve said before that I don’t write for the money; I’m writing what means something to ME!! (And this one totally does!) BUT, if the stuff I write is so lame &/or unpopular that publishers can’t sell it, than it is harder on me.

            The road to self-publishing is rougher than I imagined. And WAAAAAY longer! My editor is making look smarter (because we all know I can’t use punstuation correctly) but the editing is taking so loooong!!! AND I have to re-write chapter 16 so I’m bummed about that! *For those who don’t know what the heck I’m talking about, I’m trying to self-publish the sequel to When Love Is Not Enough. It’s titled The Cost of Loving and the cover and book blurb are on my website!*

            And why do I have to self-publish a sequel? Because WLINE was not a very popular book? It’s depressing. it’s extremely sad, it’s about gay suicide, it’s got POV shifts, and the novel is one huge rollercoaster ride of emotions that will rip a reader’s heart out! People don’t seem to appreciate that! ??? Why?

            To be far, I have some really awesome “fans” and followers that read it and some would even read it again! On Goodreads, I officially have 105 fans! I think that’s awesome!! I also have 60 followers on Twitter. (I also have loads of  “friends” on facebook but for the most part, I don’t talk to many. The core group of the Facebook friends are connected to me on Goodreads and Twitter and some e-mail.) I am very appreciative of my fans and followers! Thank you, Thank you!

            I’m not great at promotion. Sometimes I don’t really know where to go. I think that if all I do is promote and push people, I’ll lose my time to write the next one. And I’ll be just like every other writer promo’ing the crap out of people and pages. (Or do I already do that on here??) hmm. Anyway. I’m looking into guest-blogging. That sounds good. But I will also rely on my fans. Please spread the word! My Roommate’s a Jock? Well, Crap! comes out on December 31st!!!! The “Pre-order” button is on the Dreamspinner Press page, and I signed the first 20 paperbacks! I’d love nothing more than to ROCK THEIR WORLD because of my loyal fan base. You may not be large in numbers, but you are what keeps me writing! And hey, if you like My Roommate’s a Jock when you read it, please—recommend it to friends. Word of mouth is normally the fastest way to spread joy!

            Not sure what else to say? The previous blog has an excerpt. AND cover art! I think this book is going to knock your socks off!

            Later gaters,
            Wade Kelly

*Copied from Wade's Blog from Dec 4th)


Chapter 1
A World in Decay
Someone told me I’m a cynical fatalist, but I prefer the term realist. I guess I tend to see things of this world in a slow process of decay, either from a scientific perspective—since I’m a physics major—or from personal experience. The way I see it, that guy Murphy had it right every time. Do you know him? He’s the one who wrote Murphy’s Law: “If anything can go wrong, it will.” It’s actually a quote of the fourth law of thermodynamics, and the originator is unknown. (I read that on Wikipedia, but that’s beside the point.)
The long and short of it is, things go wrong in my life—always have.
It should not have surprised me when my roommate of the past three years decided to graduate and move to Texas with his girlfriend. The nerve of him! Jonathan was the best roommate ever. He was neat, and quiet, and never had sex on the couch—that I know of. He tolerated my quirks and always made me tea on Sunday mornings.
I miss him.
The summer was boring after he left.
Who was going to play canasta with me? Or build puzzles? Or realize that I needed chocolate as I studied for every test whether I asked for it or not?
I trudged around campus in a state of despair for days after he left.
Okay, I realize that the term “days” doesn’t make me sound very hopeless, but being the realist that I am made me see that milling around with my chin resting on my chest was only going to get me run over if I happened to miss the sidewalk and wander into traffic. I moped for an appropriate amount of time and then typed up a flyer for the campus bulletin board: “Roommate Wanted.”
I never needed to find a roommate before.
Back when I enrolled at this college, Jonathan Keys practically stumbled over me in the housing line. The college had just acquired three more single-family homes on the edge of campus grounds and opened them for occupancy. First come, first serve. There was a minimal upcharge over regular dorm fees, but the perks were worth it. Guidelines for tenancy were minimal as long as the house was maintained properly—which basically meant that if you trashed it, you got kicked out—but otherwise, those who lived there governed themselves. No RA! (Resident Assistant for those not aware of dorm-speak.)
The house I was “lucky” enough to make it into had six bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, and three baths. Four of the other guys assigned to the same residence were sports fanatics and one was a math major. I loathe jocks! Not that you can lump all sports guys together and assume they know everything about sports, but my point is, I had nothing in common with those guys. Jon was the math major.
We made it through one semester of parties and hooting at the television during football season before a suite in a neighboring house opened up. Jon knew the housing overlord and requested the suite before it was open to the general (college) public. It was so much nicer!
This house was two houses down the street, so moving was a breeze. The layout was also different from most campus housing. Instead of one floor of bedrooms and then living space on the bottom floor, this unit had three floors of two bedrooms and living space combined. I wasn’t sure about the efficiency of that design; perhaps it was three rental apartments at one time before the campus purchased it. I didn’t know.
Whatever the explanation, Jon and I had it made! The top floor was just ours—two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, and a living area to share.
And then my buddy Jonathan graduated in May.
It was the worst day of my life.
I kind of didn’t mention to anyone that I was living alone at this point because if I did, the housing department would peruse the list of “standby” students and assign someone to my perfect little corner of the campus. I wanted to avoid that. I thought if I advertised in places that promised interesting prospects—i.e., the physics building and the library—then I would hopefully avoid the types of people I dreaded living with: jocks! Ahem. *clears throat*
The plan was going okay, I guess. I had a few guys call me up, but I was looking for someone who reminded me of Jon—someone smart and funny, and who didn’t care if I watched History Channel on Friday night. Two guys inquired. I just didn’t feel right saying yes.
In retrospect, I should have at least met with them instead of shooting them down over the phone, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I was still moping about Jon moving. I was about to put up another flyer in the electronics lab when the housing director stopped me. “Isn’t there an opening in your building?”
I looked up, bewildered, blinking as the sun burned into my retinas. “Um….” I hesitated. “Who’s asking?”
He gave me a look that told me I shouldn’t be so stupid. “I am, Cole. You know I need to fill that space as soon as possible. You should’ve contacted me weeks ago. You know there’s a list at least fifty students long who would love to live in those houses instead of the dorms.”
“It’s not my fault he moved out early.”
I sighed and scuffed my shoe on the ground. Of course I knew he was right. “Sorry. I guess I was stalling. Do you think I could look for my own roommate?” I gave him the most pathetic pout I could muster and tipped my head to the side. I hoped he would give in. My pathetic look always worked on my mom. The term “puppy-dog eyes” didn’t hold a candle to my expression. Of course he caved.
“Okay—but only because you keep the neatest apartment on campus. God help me if I assigned someone who messed up your routine and dropped Cheetos on the carpet.”
I smiled and said heartily, “Thanks, Stan. You’re the best!”
“But, Cole, I can only give you six weeks to decide on someone. By August 15 the other bedroom in your apartment needs to be filled. Got it?”
I cringed internally. I hated deadlines. I know, I have them all the time with projects and exams, but having a deadline that was not school related made me nervous. “August 15, got it!” I assured Stan the housing man with a nod.
He turned and walked off, and I was left with a cold sense of dread that whoever applied to live with me would turn out to be a slob, or a drum major, or the worst of the worst—a jock! I wasn’t looking forward to it.
So, I made a flyer.
Male roommate wanted to share a two-bedroom apartment off campus. Must be clean, friendly, quiet, and study-oriented. Preferably not a freshman. Must love books, games, and spy movies. To apply call: 717-782-1969 and ask for Cole.
I posted the flyer all over campus. I thought for sure I’d have loads of inquiries. I was so dead wrong. During the summer, students went home. During the summer, students were not thinking of housing unless they were freshman and didn’t have housing. No one called except one girl. Did she not read the flyer? I am not living with a girl. I had enough of that growing up with an older sister. Still, I was disappointed. Not even a nibble. Did I come off too controlling on the flyer?
Needless to say, Stan the housing man came knocking on my door August 15. “Did you find someone?” Stan asked.
He really was a great guy; I couldn’t fault him for doing his job. “No,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest in a gesture of aggravation. No matter what, I wasn’t going to be happy with whoever he picked from his list, so I thought I’d start off right with full-out petulance.
“Cole, come on,” he pleaded, trying to coax me to see the bright side. “We’ve known each other for three years. I think I know you pretty well by now. No one else would have noticed the lab was painted two shades of gray except you. No one but you caught the typo on the theater marquee last year. And you are the only I guy I know who can quote both The Bourne Identity and P.S. I Love You word for word.” He lifted his eyebrows and grinned.
I exhaled noisily. “Fine. Just… don’t pick a jock, okay? You know I’m not good at sports, and watching football all winter might kill me.”
He chuckled. “I can’t promise anything. The list is long, and I have to pick someone today. I have my job instructions too, you know.”
I shook his hand, and he left the apartment.
I closed the door and leaned against it, looking at my little home away from home.
Jon and I picked out the green sofa the first year. The coffee table was sitting by a dumpster in town, and he refinished it for me when I said I disliked the color of the stain. My mom gave us the Oriental rug and the Van Gogh print that hung by the breakfast bar. We bought the television together, and he said I could keep it when he moved out. Things would change soon. Maybe the new guy would hate the dishes or spill sugar on the kitchen floor?
I started to panic. I was good at working myself into a tizzy. I flattened my body against the door, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths. I can do this, I can do this, I repeated to myself. Change is good.
Twenty minutes later I got a call from Stan—he’d found someone.
“Seriously?” I asked in a higher than normal pitch. I rested one palm on the kitchen counter, and my wandering eyes noticed a raisin hiding behind the flour bin. What is that doing there?
“Yeah,” Stan said. “I told you I have a long list.”
I tossed the raisin in the trash. “Is he a freshman?” He had to be!
“Does he wear Hawaiian shirts?” Why I asked that, I’ll never know—it just slipped out.
“Does he know any three-syllable words?”
“I believe he does. He’s an English major.”
“Hmm.” I contemplated the possibility that Stan had picked someone I’d approve of as I strolled into the living room and sat on my sofa. An English major was promising. “What’s his name?”
“Ellis?” I know it came out bad, the way I questioned his name, but it wasn’t like I was talking to Ellis about his unusual name. I’d never known anyone by that name. Ellis. It sounded nerdy. Maybe I really would luck out with a great roommate. I did with Jonathan.
Stan then confirmed the name again as if I wasn’t listening. “Ellis. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be fine. I spoke to his mother today.”
“His mother? I thought you said he wasn’t a freshman.”
“He’s not. He’s a junior, but he’s been commuting from home because housing is so expensive. This year he sold his car to pay for housing and applied. Listen, Cole, I got another call coming in. Don’t worry. He’ll work out.”
Sold his car? That sounds desperate. Then again, if I still lived with my parents, I would probably turn desperate too. “Any idea when he’ll be here?”
“Should be anytime now. He said he was leaving home thirty minutes ago with a buddy.”
“What?” I panicked, looking around frantically for anything lying on the floor or inexplicably out of place.
“Good-bye, Cole.” Stan politely yet abruptly hung up.
A roommate. He was on his way. I could do this.
Someone knocked at my door and I jumped.
Shit! I’m not ready yet!
I set the phone in its cradle on the breakfast bar and walked over to the door. I smelled my pits—passable. I fingered my hair and gave my body a good wiggle to release tension right before I took a hold of the handle and reminded myself to breathe. Everything would be all right. I turned the handle. This was the moment of truth.
A bright white smile greeted me as I opened the door. “Hi. My name’s Ellis Montgomery. Are you Cole? I was told you had a room available.”
I know he was speaking, but my brain shut off the moment I looked into the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen in my life.
Oh boy, am I in trouble!

Friday, December 21, 2012

Step by Step: the making of CAPITAL GAMES THE MOVIE- Part 12

(Copied from her official blog!)

For those of you who have been following my blog on the making of CAPITAL GAMES THE MOVIE here's my next chapter....

What a process this is, by the way. Any of you wish to make a film out of your own novel, let me tell you, get ready for the ride of your life. It takes so may twists and turns it will be an adventure you will never forget. Both good and bad, by the way.

But sometimes when you've been through hell and back, life once again brings you angels. What I struggled with during production has turned full circle to an amazing few people in post production who made up for all the egos and bullshit. Like a bizzaro world where you are dealing with the exact opposite of what you had been. (Reminds me of a Seinfeld episode, but I digress)

My editor. My post production supervisor. My composer. My song writer and recorder. What would I do without them?

Sometimes fate brings together an amazing group of people and sometimes it does not. In my case, in post production, it has. Katiene Norton. If you don't know who she is, look her up on IMBd. She's amazing. An Emmy winner!! A woman with so much drive and talent in her field, I am thrilled to be sitting beside her as she works her magic on the keyboard of the computer like a concert pianist. Her kindness, her intelligence, and her guidance has brought me to where I am now. A trailer- so incredible- I can't believe it's for my film, and a movie so close to lock down, we are getting giddy.

Take a peek at the movie trailer if you haven't already:

I thought this trailer would be easy, you know, a little cut and paste. Oh hell no. It was a whole day of finding audio clips, making things mesh, special effects, figuring out taglines. Nothing about this industry is easy except sitting in the audience and watching it.

The next step is showing the film on a full sized cinema screen so we can catch anything that we can't see on the computer we are editing on. A big screen. Like in- a REAL movie. I can't imagine what this film will look like LARGE. The few who are invited will be helping me critique, correct, and get it perfect. Or as perfect as this low budget film can be. Are there mistakes? Yeah, I see them. I just hope the quality of the cinematography and acting will blow you all away, and keep the nit-pickers at bay.

I also hope to get this complete- locked and loaded by the end of the year, and if you people can't feel 2013 breathing down your neck, let me tell you, it is. There are so many festivals to send it out to, we are missing many deadlines already. But both Katiene and I want this to be the best it can be. So instead of rushing it, making it available for festivals before it's time, we are slowing down and doing it right. The helicopter footage, well, that was certainly worth the wait. You'll be flying high over LA with me. So, yes, I want it now, and all my fans want it now. Believe me. It's hard making it better and better, when we could just throw it out there and get it done.

Which festival will be the first one to premiere this film? No idea. I could end up flying to Paris or Amsterdam for it. But it will be as good as it can get for all my fans. That's my promise to you. Step by step, this film is getting closer, and when you crave to see a peek, need to admire Mark and Steve and Jack? Click my YouTube link and enjoy.

I'm running as fast as I can for all of you, and I hope it will be up to your expectations.

Be safe out there.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Author Spotlight: Rick R Reed!

Rick R. Reed has been a very busy man this summer and fall, which saw the releases of two novels, CHASER in August, RENT in September, and a modern-day gay fairy tale, BEAU AND THE BEAST in November. The books are very different tales, but they all share one common theme--finding true love in today's sometimes confusing world.
Rick R. Reed is all about exploring the romantic entanglements of gay men in contemporary, realistic settings. While his stories often contain elements of suspense, mystery and the paranormal, his focus ultimately returns to the power of love. He is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a two-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). Lambda Literary Review has called him, "a writer that doesn't disappoint." Rick lives in Seattle with his husband and a very spoiled Boston terrier. He is forever "at work on another novel."

Beau And The Beast 
by Rick R. Reed 

ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-346-8 (Electronic)

Inspired by the timeless tale, “Beauty and the Beast,” by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, Rick R. Reed has crafted a new fairy tale for our times that manages to be ethereal, romantic and ripped-from-the-headlines realistic.
Beau is a down-on-his-luck street artist living on the streets of Seattle, drawing portraits of tourists to make enough money to live hand-to-mouth. He has a knack for capturing his subjects’ “very souls” on paper. One rainy night, he is accosted by a group of fag-bashing thugs, intent on robbing him of his art supplies and humiliating Beau for who he is. Beau is beaten into unconsciousness...
...And awakens in a beautiful bedroom, his head bandaged and with no memory of how he got there. Outside his window pine trees and mountain vistas beckon.
Beau’s tale grows even more mysterious when a large, muscular man begins bringing the injured Beau his food. The man says nothing—and wears a wolf mask. When he finally does speak, it’s only to tell Beau to call him “Beast.”
What secrets does the wolf mask hide? What do these two outsiders have in common? And will their odd circumstances bring them to the brink of love—or tear them apart? The answers lie in Rick R. Reed’s haunting love story that reveals that beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.
Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Fantasy / Fairy Tale 
Heat Level: 
Length: Extended Amber Kiss (14k words)

This title is part of the Once Upon A Fairy Tale AmberPax™ Collection. To purchase this title individually, use the shopping cart below. To purchase this title as part of the entire AmberPax™ and receive a 25% discount off our normal price, use the shopping cart on this page.

Read a short excerpt...

...“So you brought me here? Where is here, anyway? And why didn’t you just take me to a hospital?”
“One question at a time.” The man paused, as though he were pondering which question to answer first, prioritizing them. “I thought about taking you to a hospital, but I don’t like to have much contact with other people. It’s a long story, but let’s just say I don’t have healthy memories of my time among them. I did, however, examine you, right there in the street, checking to see how severe your cuts and bumps were. I was able to determine, best I could, that while you looked like hell, nothing had happened to you that couldn’t be fixed with time and care.”
The wolf’s face turned to Beau and he could feel the man’s gaze upon him. “I still don’t know if I made the right choice. Your admission that you don’t remember what happened to you concerns me; perhaps I need to reconsider.
“In any event, I checked you over and determined that you needed help, so I brought you here, to my home. We are in a remote area east of Seattle, in the foothills of the Cascades. I had this house built for me to meet my need for solitude. I did not bring you here to keep you against your will; let me make that clear. You are free to leave whenever you like.”
Beau looked around him. He had never, in his whole life, been ensconced in such comforting and comfortable surroundings. Still, this was weird. “My things? Where are my things?”
The man put a gentle hand on Beau’s knee. “You had nothing, just the clothes on your back and those were torn and bloody.” He paused. “I had to throw them away. We’ll see that you get some new ones when you want to go.”
The man said nothing for several moments, and then went on. “I think you should stay with me for a few more days. Get yourself more properly healed and then, when you’re ready, I will not only see that you are clothed, but that you have safe transport back to Seattle. And if you need, we can also get you to a doctor. I suspect, though, you’re still in a bit of shock and that’s affected your memory.”
“Why would you do this?” Beau wondered.
“Why wouldn’t I? What kind of beast would I be if I left you all alone, bleeding and hurt, in that alley? I only did what I would want someone to do for me if the tables were turned.”
“But all of this….” Beau gestured to the room with his hand. “All of this seems above and beyond the call.”
“Perhaps for some. I suppose I could have left you at an emergency room and washed my hands of you. But that’s not me. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty to bring you here.”
“I don’t know what to think. I wish I could remember what happened.” But Beau wasn’t so sure he wanted that wish granted. Already, shadowy images were swirling around in his memory, hooded figures, cold—and they filled him with dread.
“You will.” The man stood. “Now, I think you should eat before everything gets totally cold. There’s roast chicken there….” He took a few steps toward the door. “In the morning, I’ll bring you some clothes and we can go outside, if you feel up to it.”
The man was closing the door behind him.
“Wait!” Beau called after him. “Who are you? You haven’t told me who you are.”
The man turned slightly and gestured toward the mask. “Just call me Beast.” He chuckled, but the sound carried no mirth, only despair. “It’s what I am, anyway.”

Before Beau could say anything else, Beast had closed the door...