I am proud to announce that I have a story in Wayward Ink's new anthology, Love, Loss, Laughter & Lust, which released today! This is my first, and certainly not last, collaboration with Wayward Ink, so let's celebrate together, while I talk a little bit about writing for an anthology.
Being part of an anthology is different than other writing.
Being part of an anthology is a group effort, of which the sum is greater than
the whole. I am proud to announce my first story for Wayward Ink Publishing, “His
Prince Wore Pink Stilettos”, which is part of the Love, Loss, Laughter & Lust anthology. I am also very proud to
say that I am an editor with Wayward Ink, and helped to edit some of these
stories.
Sometimes you don’t want to read something heavy, you just
want to take little nibbles of fiction. Stories you can stop and start at your
leisure. Well, consider this book to be a smorgasbord for your reading pleasure.
As the title implies, there will be love, loss, laughter
& lust. Mostly I think you’ll come away with a smile on your face, and perhaps a tear in your eye for
what you’ve seen in these pages.
My story, “His Prince Wore Pink Stilettos” takes place in
the 1970s, and is one young man’s journey to sexual awareness. Being gay then
wasn’t very easy, and Michael is clueless when it comes to boys, because he’s
sure he’s the only one like him. And how can he tell the boy who’s the object
of his wet dreams how he feels?
Here’s an excerpt from my story:
I WAS eighteen and gay at a
time when it wasn't very well accepted, as compared to the grudging acceptance
we garner nowadays, but this is 2006 and that was the 70s, a different story
altogether. And St. Louis wasn't Los Angeles, and it certainly wasn't San
Francisco, tending to be on the conservative side, existing as it does in the
Bible belt. Puberty is hard enough to go through on its own merits, but when
one comes to realize that what seems natural to you is considered an
abomination by others—well, you sort of learn to keep your natural inclinations
to yourself. And then you hope that you’re not the only one that feels that
way.
I first came to understand
that it was men that tripped my trigger, so to speak, and not women, when I was
about thirteen. I have an older sister, Brenda, who used to read movie
magazines like they were gospel. She was always raving about this that or the
other handsome actor. And dragging me to the movie theater to see her current
favorites, whether I was willing to go or not. I usually was—willing, I mean.
After all, a free film is a free film. Even if I pretended to fuss about it.
But it wasn't until we went to see A Man
Called Horse that I got my first clue about my true sexual orientation.
There's a scene at the
beginning of the film where Richard Harris, the rich Englishman who’s the hero
of the movie, is bathing in a river when the other members of his hunting party
are set upon and murdered by Native Americans. This same group then happens
upon Richard as well, and they chase him from the water, at which point there
is a fantastic view of his bare posterior. Well, when I caught a glimpse of
those firm buttocks, so unmistakably enlarged upon the screen, I found myself
riveted to the sight, unable—and unwilling—to look away. On top of that, I had
a definite reaction—a very physical one—that caught me very much off guard. I
think I even squeaked, embarrassing as that is to relate, because I remember my
sister nudging me to be quiet, while she too feasted her eyes upon the screen.
At her nudge, I spilled my cup of soda into my lap, which turned out to be
fortunate, for it relieved my engorged situation, and I didn't have to explain
anything to anyone. Other than myself, that is. And napkins took care of the
rest.
That was when I had a long
hard look at myself and the world around me, borrowing Brenda’s movie magazines
for a comparison test. Yes, it was true, without a shadow of a doubt. It was
the male of the species that turned me on. While I liked the women well enough,
they did nothing for me in any romantic or sexual sense, and I had no desire to
kiss any of them. Richard Harris, on the other hand... well, I was more than
willing to be ‘ravished’ by him. Sort of like a reverse bodice-ripper, those
popular romance novels where the heroine was ‘unwilling’, back when that meant
she wanted it and didn’t know it. Well, I knew it, and I dreamed that someday
that hunky Irishman might come and take me away.
That never happened.
This story was originally published by Dreamspinner Press a
few years ago. It has been re-edited and the title slightly changed. I’m proud
to have had it accepted by Wayward Ink for their Love, Loss, Laughter & Lust
anthology. As the title implies, there is something for everyone in this book.
Wayward Ink is having a giveaway to celebrate the anthology’s
release! Just enter your name in the rafflecopter!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Love,
Loss, Laughter & Lust
We’ve
all loved.
We’ve
all laughed.
Sadly,
we’ve also probably all known loss in one form or another.
And,
yes, we at Wayward Ink are sure we’ve all experienced lust!
In Love,
Loss, Laughter & Lust,
you'll experience one or more of the "L"s as we take you on
a roller coaster of emotions.
Whether
you like to sigh over the sweet, cry for the broken-hearted, enjoy a good laugh,
or get a little hot and bothered; there's something for everyone in this
collection.
Buy
link for Love, Loss, Laughter & Lust at Wayward Ink: http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com/product/love-loss-laughter-lust/
MINI BLURB FOR EACH STORY
His Prince Wore Pink Stilettos
Julie Lynn Hayes
Wanted: one prince, ball optional…
Invisible
Taylin Clavelli
What do you do when you become invisible
to the love of your life?
Hearts
Anyta Sunday
What
if your fate is to lose the one you love and be doomed to live in a city of
lost hearts?
Is it possible two dead hearts can see life again?
Is it possible two dead hearts can see life again?
A Closed Door
Andrew Q. Gordon
Sometimes when you leave to find
yourself, you've left the answer behind.
Sleepwalking
Taylin Clavelli
Devastated
by loss, Matthew sleepwalks through life, existing but not living.
Can
someone rescue him from his waking nightmare and help him to live again?
Life According to Buddy
Lily Velden
Buddy
is a penis on a mission...
Mission Objective: The Love Tunnel
Service with a Smile
Lily G. Blunt
Terry visits a men’s designer boutique,
and Ash gives him service with a smile…
Hunter or Hunted?
Lily Velden
Any
hunter worth his salt will tell you that in order to capture your prey, there
are few simple rules you must follow…
Julie Lynn Hayes was
reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to
be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty
years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for
introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured
her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never
dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love
and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever
after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books
and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such
as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While
working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and
reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks
she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own
drummer is a good thing, after all. Her
published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, Amber Quill Press, MuseitUp
Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books, and coming soon to Wayward Ink
Publishing and Prizm Publishing. She has also begun to self-publish and is an
editor at MuseitUp.
You can find her on
her blog at http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com,
and you can contact her at tothemax.wolf@gmail.com.
My links:
Twitter @Shelley_runyon
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/julie.l.hayes.7
