Thanks Julie! I’m excited about visiting you today.
You have a fun interview for me, too. I’ve looked through the questions, and
this should be interesting. Okay, now for the juicy stuff.
1)
You’re marooned on a small island with
one person and one item of your choice—who is that person and what item do you
have?
Well, my first thought went to sex of course. Then I thought I should be more dignified. I’m going to
Well, my first thought went to sex of course. Then I thought I should be more dignified. I’m going to
The item…I’m going to cheat. I’d want a basket, filled with great wine, cheese and breads. Drinking wine, stuffing my face with great bread and cheese while talking with da Vinci. I think that would be very enjoyable.
2)
Which musical would you say best
exemplifies your life – and which character in that musical are you?
3) Take these three words and give me a 100
word or less scenario using them: angel,
onion, nail
Gabriel slid his toe across the nail and tried his weight on it. He sniffed the air and without shifting his focus, he shouted, “Stir the onions, Michael. They’re for our sandwiches.”
Michael walked over, ignored Gabriel, and stirred the pan. He looked up to see Gabriel stand on the top of the nail. His partner stabilized his balance and smiled.
“You do realized the saying is ‘how many angels can dance on the head of a pin’ not can one clumsy angel stand on a nail,” said Michael.
“Shit,” said Gabriel as he fell off.
Gabriel slid his toe across the nail and tried his weight on it. He sniffed the air and without shifting his focus, he shouted, “Stir the onions, Michael. They’re for our sandwiches.”
Michael walked over, ignored Gabriel, and stirred the pan. He looked up to see Gabriel stand on the top of the nail. His partner stabilized his balance and smiled.
“You do realized the saying is ‘how many angels can dance on the head of a pin’ not can one clumsy angel stand on a nail,” said Michael.
“Shit,” said Gabriel as he fell off.
4)
You’ve just been let loose in the world
of fiction, with permission to do anyone you want. Who do you fuck first and
why?
Probably not terribly original, but Tarzan. Those were some of the first books I ever read, and I had
Probably not terribly original, but Tarzan. Those were some of the first books I ever read, and I had
5)
What is your idea of how to spend
romantic time with your significant other?
Huddled in a nest of blankets and quilts in front of a roaring fire. Some nice appetizers on the floor beside us while we cuddle with each other, sipping wine, and lost ourselves staring into the fire. The wine glasses would eventually be put aside and the shirts would be slid off while the warm colors of the fire reflected off our bare skin. Soon our bodies would be bare and we’d be grinding against each other…
Yeah, something like that. HeeHee.
Huddled in a nest of blankets and quilts in front of a roaring fire. Some nice appetizers on the floor beside us while we cuddle with each other, sipping wine, and lost ourselves staring into the fire. The wine glasses would eventually be put aside and the shirts would be slid off while the warm colors of the fire reflected off our bare skin. Soon our bodies would be bare and we’d be grinding against each other…
Yeah, something like that. HeeHee.
6)
When you start a new story, do you begin
with a character, or a plot?
I begin with a character, then think of what setting would be fun to put them in to make an interesting story that would pull someone in and make them not want to put the book down until they finished. Most of my stories so far have been more or less a slice of life, so many times the settings are something I’m familiar with, or that I’d like to know more about.
I begin with a character, then think of what setting would be fun to put them in to make an interesting story that would pull someone in and make them not want to put the book down until they finished. Most of my stories so far have been more or less a slice of life, so many times the settings are something I’m familiar with, or that I’d like to know more about.
7)
If they were to make the story of your
life into a movie, who should play you?
8) Who’s
your favorite horror villain and why?
My horror villain list is pretty short. I don’t typically read horror because they give me nightmares. I mean screaming, can’t get your breath nightmares. Yeah, I know. Not particularly macho. But if I had to pick, I’d say it was Hannibal Lecter. He was just so creepy.
My horror villain list is pretty short. I don’t typically read horror because they give me nightmares. I mean screaming, can’t get your breath nightmares. Yeah, I know. Not particularly macho. But if I had to pick, I’d say it was Hannibal Lecter. He was just so creepy.
9)
Do you have an historical crush and if
so, who is it?
10) Is
there a story that you’d like to tell but you think the world isn’t ready to
receive it?
You know, I doubt there’s anything I could come up with that would be all that shocking. But then, there is a lot of the world still not ready to receive the idea of same sex love. So I guess it just depends on your point-of-view.
You know, I doubt there’s anything I could come up with that would be all that shocking. But then, there is a lot of the world still not ready to receive the idea of same sex love. So I guess it just depends on your point-of-view.
blurb
Christmas is the worst time of the year to find
yourself alone. Chris Moss, owner of a tree farm, knows this down to his bones
as he makes his way through his first holiday season after losing his wife to
cancer. When Wade Hart, an annual customer at the farm, visits, they find
common ground: Wade lost his own longtime lover to a parting of ways and is
lonely too. The constant, gentle companionship provides fertile soil for an
attraction neither expects, but nurturing a new relationship is a tough
proposition. With the encouragement of family and friends, Chris and Wade may
yet find that a second love later in life can be just as fulfilling as the
first.
Excerpt
from Heart
of the Pines.
Jets
of steamy breath shot from Wade’s nostrils as he struggled to drag the enormous
Christmas tree across the loose Michigan snow. The bells on Chris’s Santa hat
jingled merrily as he hurried out to help his friend pull the tree up the final
hillock to the barn.
“Here,
let me give you a hand.” Stepping along the slowing tree, Chris wrapped a
glove-covered hand around a branch and lent his strength to the effort.
Wade
nodded and smiled. “Thanks, it’s a little much by myself.”
“No
problem, happy to help. Looks like you got a beaut,” said Chris.
Wade
pulled off his knit hat and wiped the perspiration from his head. “It’s a good
one. I think I’ve covered your whole farm, several times, to find the perfect
tree.”
They
pulled the tree into the work area and hoisted it onto the sawbuck. “Want me to
trim it up for you?”
“Sure.
One less thing I’ll have to do.” Wade laid the handsaw he’d used on the table
behind them, then tugged his thick cap on while Chris made a few quick cuts
with the chainsaw to ready the tree for his stand. The roar of the saw faded,
and Chris struggled for a few minutes as he tried to push the tree into the
netting. As he began his second attempt, Wade woke from his stupor and grabbed
the other side of the tree.
“Sorry,
I’m a little spacey today,” said Wade.
With
his help, Chris slid the tree into the tube of netting, getting it ready for
Wade’s SUV. “No problem. It’s a huge tree. I hope Jeff will be around to help
you unload.”
Wade
folded his arms over his chest, a pained look on his face. “Jeff moved out.
Last week. I thought makin’ our annual trip to your farm for a tree would keep
me from thinkin’ about it.” Wade turned his head and let out a shuddering sigh.
“I guess it’s not ‘our’ trip anymore.”
Chris
gave Wade’s shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry to hear that. You guys always seemed happy
together. Jeff was always cutting up and flirting with Mary.” I haven’t forgotten you attended her
funeral.
“It
happens. I guess we lasted longer than a lot of couples. Ten years isn’t bad.”
Wade’s fingers ran over one of the fir boughs edging the barn windows. “It was
good in the beginning, like newlyweds. Jeff loved our loft in Chicago. But ever
since we moved to Traverse City, the relationship had slowly gone downhill. Our
business downtown was an attempt to find something to keep Jeff happy.”
The
pain in Wade’s eyes sparked a wave of bitter nostalgia for Chris. He missed
Mary so desperately some days. She always was the caretaker of the family, even
when they got the diagnosis of stage-four cancer; she still took care of
everyone else until it was impossible for her to keep doing it. He turned to
the barn behind them, pulled off the Santa hat, and held it tight in his hands
as the frigid air gusted through his short white hair.
The
farm was always beautiful this time of year, the ground covered with
crystalline flakes in a white carpet that extended to the steps of the house,
which he kept carefully swept. He hadn’t changed anything since Mary died. It
had been more difficult in the summer when the beds that hugged the foundation
of their house were ablaze with flowers Mary had planted and nursed through the
years. The winter covering had been a blessed relief, but his heart still ached
at the lack of holiday decorations. Mary had loved the season, and given half a
chance, she covered everything within striking distance with lights. Without
her, the trimmings just hadn’t mattered.
He
shook himself and focused on finishing with Wade’s tree. He tied the bottom of
the netting and turned to Wade. “There you go. All bundled and ready to put in
that great foyer you have.”
“Not
so grand this year. It’s kind of tough to get into the spirit of the season.”
Chris
gave Wade a sympathetic smile. “It could be worse….”
Realization
hit Wade. “Oh my God! I can’t believe I’ve been such an ass. This is your first
Christmas alone. I’m so sorry, Chris. I feel awful.”
“It’s
not your fault. It’s been almost a year since her funeral. It’s ancient history
to most people.” Although it seems like
yesterday to me. I can still feel her soft hand in mine as we picnicked on one
of Lake Michigan’s sugar sand beaches on our first date, playing in the chilly
crystal clear water. Even then, she’d taken care of everything and had the
perfect lunch basket packed.
“Yeah,
but Mary always said Christmas was her favorite time of the year.”
“It
was, and I haven’t felt like doing much. It’s a lot more work to take care of
the farm alone too. But the income for the whole year happens in the next month
or so. Doesn’t leave me with many choices.” Chris smiled at Wade. “Bad thing
about a Christmas tree farm, firs just aren’t that tasty.”
Wade
gave a nod, and then his eyes lit up. “Hey, what if I do it? I’ve helped Mary
put up the decorations before. It’ll keep me busy, and Santa’s Tree Farm needs
to look more festive than either of us feels.”
Chris
couldn’t help but smile at the sudden enthusiasm. “If you’d like, that would be
great. I just can’t face the stuff. Too many memories.”
“Southern
boy to the rescue! I got this covered.” Wade clapped his hand on Chris’s bicep
and squeezed it. Chris found a comfort from the contact that surprised him.
Mary’s touch had always had that unique ability to soothe him. Some nights its
absence had left him curled around her pillow with tears streaming down his
face.
Chris
fished a ring of keys from his pocket, flipped through them, and held one out
for Wade. “This unlocks the storage padlock. Anything you want to do would be
great. I have a few customers wandering around looking for trees. I better go
check on them.”
Chris
raced through the light snowfall while Wade started for the storage building.
Bio:
Jon Keys’ earliest memories revolve around books;
with the first ones he can recall reading himself being “The Warlord of Mars”
and anything with Tarzan. (The local library wasn’t particularly up to date.)
But as puberty set in he started sneaking his mother’s romance magazines and
added the world of romance and erotica to his mix of science fiction, fantasy,
and comic books.
A voracious reader for almost half a century, Jon
has only recently begun creating his own flights of fiction for the
entertainment of others. Born in the Southwest and now living in the Midwest,
Jon has worked as a ranch hand, teacher, computer tech, roughneck, designer,
retail clerk, welder, artist, and, yes, pool boy; with interests ranging from
kayaking and hunting to painting and cooking, he draws from a wide range of
life experiences to create written works that draw the reader in and wrap them
in a good story.
E-mail: jon.keys@ymail.com
Blog: http://jonkeys.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jon.keys.773
Twitter: @Jon4Keys
No comments:
Post a Comment