Ta Da...I'm so pleased with this cover I want to break into song. Or, you know, finish the story and get it rushed through edits so that it can publish on October 12th, a mere two days before the start of 2015's GayRomLit Retreat in sunny San Diego.
Hee hee hee. A fabulous Friday indeed.
And now, some music from our Dj...something with angels like my fellow up there on the cover, hmmm? Thankee kindly, maestro. Enjoy the music, dear readers. I know I will.
You might be wondering what TBI has to do with matters of the heart. Well, in my current work in progress, a greatly expanded (over 30k added) and heavily revised 2nd edition of Kiss & Tell, I introduce you to a main character who suffers from Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBI, as the result of an assault. Tony is an old hand at dealing with devastating acts of domestic violence, having lived through several years of abuse at the hands of an older brother before moving out of one bad situation only to fall into another, arguably worse one.
Like many LGBTQ domestic abuse victims, Tony has little recourse. His support system is negligible, his resources strictly monitored by his abusive partner, and his options for community assistance seem impossible to locate. Until a dedicated nurse throws him a lifeline in the shape of a one page resource access card.
Please, if you know or suspect someone is living in a domestic violence situation and/or has suffered from a head injury, share the resources at the end of this post with them--but remember to do so in a manner that will NOT place them at higher risk for assault/injury.
The unedited version of that lifesaving interaction:
Tony flinched back, head
jerking up and gaze darting to the door. Ugh. That tore it. Kevin had never
seen that response in a patient who got injured in an accident caused by sheer
Big, beautiful, and seemingly
tough Tony Giuliani needed one of Kevin’s LGBT friendly cards more than Lindsay
Lohan needed a five year AA/NA chip and a sympathetic director/casting agent. And
Kevin was going to make damn sure the big guy took one. Kevin quickly folded
the card into thirds.
“See, I even had them
made so you can fold them up and fit them in your shoe. In case your friend or
you know, whoever, needs to keep the card hidden. It’ll fit right under the
lining of your shoe. There’s always a little gap—well, in most shoes—right
where the side of the shoe meets the arch. At least in my not nursing shoes.”
Kevin laughed and held up his foot to show the crocs he currently wore.
“You can fold up one
corner so it makes a little tab. Use that to lift the edge of the—oh, can I
borrow your shoe to show you? So you know how to show someone else?” Kevin held
his breath as he waited for Tony’s answer.
Tony’s glance ping-ponged
from the card to the exam room door. “Uh, sure. I don’t mind.”
Kevin’s pulse thundered
in his ears. Every time he passed one of these cards out he thanked himself for
having them made up. After he read the cards the hospital passed out to
suspected domestic abuse victims the first time, he realized any gay man—scratch
that, any man period—in an abusive situation could expect zero help from the
places listed on the card. And women in same sex relationships were in almost
as bad a spot, because while they might have an easier time finding a shelter,
so would their abuser. With a little research, however, he found a couple of
shelters that were both gay friendly and willing to forbid entrance to abusive
partners regardless of the gender and/or sexual orientation of the parties
involved. His card wasn’t perfect, given that it left little recourse for
straight men in abusive relationships. He’d had no luck finding shelters for
men abused by women. Then again, little in this world was perfect, and at least
his cards covered more of the possibilities than those the hospital routinely
Kevin reached into the
side pocket of his scrubs and pulled out another of the LGBT friendly Domestic
Abuse cards he’d made up. “Why don’t you try to fold that one up and then see
if you can get in into your shoe? That way you’ll know how to show someone
Guten Morgen, my dears!
Erm, that's good morning in German.
Dunno why I'm speaking German to you.
It started last night. Eh, I just nod and smile these days, because who the heck knows what my brain is going to get up to when I leave it unattended for hours at a time. I suspect it's been sneaking into memories of my time serving at Budingen Kaserne in Germany.
O.O No, seriously.
I swear the slippery little sucker takes off on holiday while I'm sleeping and I don't always get the notes about where el Brainio has been. Again I say, O.O
Okay, so news, and a few more gratuitous pics of the town of Budingen, where I was stationed with the 69th chemical company from 1998 to 2001.
Erm, the news is exciting. Sort of. Nothing new out yet, but Hey Presto, I've got my mojo back!
Wrote over 4k yesterday, so it looks like the long dry spell is over. With enough rest and a semi-quiet environment I should be able to maintain a 2,500 to 6, 000 word count daily. And that means some exciting times for readers who like my particular brand of madness. Because at this pace, I'll have six stories written by the end of October. Some will be revised and expanded versions of older stories, some will be brand spanking new tales. And that is worthy of a fancy do at the castle in Budingen. Heh.
I've got my party hat on and my happy feet a'dancing...not to mention my fingers tappity-tap-typing in hopes that the finished stories will feel like a party to you as well.
Be Well, Babies. I'll have some yummy new stuffs for you to read soon. I pinky swear.
I'm busy, busy, busy as a bee. Writing like mad. Because, deadlines. You know the drill, because EVERYONE has deadlines of one sort or another.
So I'll just leave you with these cute busy bee pics, and a little song by the Blind Melons. Cause that me, that little dancing bee. Heh. Dancing as fast as I can, and paying no mind to to the meanie-butts of the world. You do the same, hmm?
I'm hoping by the end of the day I'll be covered--heh, I mean my manuscript will be covered in as many new words as this little guy is in pollen granules.
*crossing all possible points of crisscrossingness on my body and getting my fingers flying on my trusty laptop's keyboard*
The Teardrop Memorial is a little known memorial to ending world terrorism. Located at the former Military Ocean Terminal in Bayonne NJ, and created by Russian artist, Zurab Tseretel, the sculpture is a moving tribute to the tragedies of September 11, 2001. If you'd like to visit the memorial, or simply learn more about it, here's a link to the webpage for the site. TEARDROP MEMORIAL.
Please feel free to share any stories you have concerning 9/11/01 (events of that day, visits to memorials, planned events, questions, thoughts, etc.) in the comment section below.
What will it mean for this icon of factual information to come under the control of a conglomerate known for deliberately spreading disinformation? A fantastic article in the Washington Post poses some likely answers. Please read about it HERE, and then come back and share your thoughts. I'm giving away a story to the person with the most thoughtful answer.