New Release: Out In Colorado 2!

Hi guys!

So...new release! The writing group I'm a member of, Out In Colorado, has put together an anthology of stories set in our very own state. They run the gamut from contemporary sweetness to paranormal suspense to mythologically displaced (the last one would be mine, yeah;). All proceeds go to helping us pay for our Denver Pride booth, so any interest is truly appreciated. There are some really great authors in this antho, and some really excellent stories. You can find it here: Out In Colorado 2.

Want a blurb? I got one for you!

Seven gay stories that could only take place under the impossibly blue Colorado sky. Whether you want love (or lust) in the mountains, or prefer the busy streets of Denver and the eclectic environs of Boulder, we have your next read. Seven Rocky Mountain authors have joined forces to take you Out In Colorado. .

Join George Seaton, Caitlin Ricci, Cari Z, Jess Roth, A.J. Marcus, Carter Quinn, and P.D. Singer for adventure and a bit of romance.

How about an excerpt from mine? The title is The Price of Magic and the story is about the descendant of Vasilissa the Beautiful and his search for Baba Yaga in the wilds of Estes Park. Plus there's pot. And craft beers. Because Colorado, right?

***

The door opened a moment later, and Vasily found himself face-to-face with Baba Yaga herself. Well, more nose-to-nose with. Her nose seemed to take up most of the middle of her face, a jutting blade as pockmarked and warty as the stories said. She also, he noted with the small part of his brain that wasn’t currently consumed with terror, had a ring in one nostril. It was a little one way back at the base, probably silver but so tarnished that it looked like a circle of soot. Her teeth were jagged, her eyes were small and squinted narrowly at him, and her hair was as smooth as barbed wire.

“I smell something Russian!” she shouted. “Who are you then, little Russian mal’chik?”

Somehow he managed to pry his voice up from the bottom of his lungs and answer. “My name is Vasily, Baba Yaga.”

“Vasily, a Vasily, always the Vasilys of the world, they are the ones that give me trouble,” she muttered darkly. “The boys, the girls, all trouble, nothing but that. I suppose you do not come alone, then?”

“No, Baba Yaga.”

Her enormous eyebrows rose a bit. “You have the doll then? Authentic Vasily, at least, that is something. And what would you ask of me?”

“I need magic that will save someone’s life.”

Baba Yaga sighed. “Why couldn’t you just ask for fire, hm? I’m good with fire! I would give you fire for old times’ sake, no need to barter with yourself. Are you sure you don’t want some fire? Or some marijuana, maybe. The kids who play in the field, they plant some here and I tell you, it is very fine. Better now that I tend to it, better and stronger than ever before.”

Vasily was halfway to thinking he was high right now, honestly. This wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his meeting with the witch of the woods going. “No thanks, I don’t smoke pot.”

“You don’t eat it neither, then. Not even in brownie? Is very tasty, completely legal.”

“No.” Vasily shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Well, fine then. You want to barter for a life, you need to step inside, you letting all my warmth out.” She turned around and he followed her inside, which was way bigger than seemed possible from out there. It actually looked pretty cozy: there was a ceramic stove letting off radiant heat that circled the room, cupboards and baskets full of food and blankets and there, beside the fireplace, an enormous mortar and pestle.

“Home sweet home,” Baba Yaga said with a sneer, but Vasily noticed that she patted the stove like a friendly pet before sitting down on top of it. “Pull the table over to me, my bones ache tonight.”

Vasily grabbed the wooden table in the middle of the room, which was laden with so much food it seemed about to collapse, and carefully shifted it over next to the stove. There was kvass, which he’d expected, and red wine, and also what smelled like a…porter, maybe? There was also cabbage soup, thick, dark rye bread and an entire roasted pig.

“You like beer?” Baba Yaga asked when she noticed him discreetly sniffing the mug. “I brew it myself, in the walls of my home! I think my little house is getting little drunk from it, eh?” She laughed and reached for the mug.

The Winnaaahhhh!!! + flash fiction

The Colorado MM Authors Group blog hop turned out to be a lot of fun!  Thanks to those who followed along, commented and shared their own stories with us.  The overall winner of the $50 gift card will be announced here on Christmas Eve: http://outincoloradofiction.com/2013/12/22/colorado-christmas-wrap-up/

Or, y'know, on the post after that.  Meanwhile, I'm not so cruel as to make you all wait, so the winner of my own personal post's giveaway is...ShirleyAnn!  I've got your email, hon, I'll contact you.  $10 Amazon gift card or a vignette for the story of your choice.

Man, short post.  Let me make it a little longer.  In the Goodreads M/M Romance Group, one of the little literary games that gets played is all about writing flash fiction based off of a photo prompt.  You get 100 words with which to make your mark.  I've just recently joined in and some of the writers there are absolutely amazing, but I did like my last little sliver of story, so I'm going to share it and the photo that inspired it below.  Click the link to read more lovely flash fiction:  https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1620527-flash-fiction-photo-inspiration-sat-12-21-13---new

I only make it down the first step before his grip on me shifts away from my elbow. He leans in against my shoulder, his hand tugging roughly at his hair. He puts a good face on it, but I know he’s anxious.

This is the twenty-first day since he lost his sight, and the first time we’ve been alone in our own house since then. 

“I just…I need a second.”

“No problem, the hot tub can wait,” I say lightly.

“I’m sorry.”

There is so much wrong with him saying that to me. “Don’t be,” I manage. “It’s fine.”

Two Lovely Things!

This is a good weekend for a number of reasons, but here are the top two:

1) Denver PrideFest!  The Colorado M/M authors group (which is expanding to encompass other orientations) rented a space at Pride and set up to sell our books, including the Out In Colorado anthology that six of us wrote for.  Saturday our group consisted of me, Caitlin Ricci, Marie Sexton, M.L. Rhodes, Tabatha Heart, Carter Quinn, George Seaton, Brannan Black and a surprise visit from K-lee Klein, who was down from Calgary visiting M.L.  We talked to a lot of wonderful people, saw a lot of incredible outfits and even sold some books:)  I'm a terrible salesperson and was basically there to be eye candy and sign things, but Tabatha is amazing and so are Marie and Caitlin, so thank god they were there to take point.  There'll be some of the same, some different people manning the booth today, and we met more Colorado authors who want to join the group, so hey!  We're expanding!  Nice:)

Want some pictures?  Let's share some Pride pics!

 Gorgeous, flexible boys...what's not to like?

 Choices, choices...

 Posing for a picture with the...whatever it is!  Rainbow albino sabertooth?

Lucky bag of puppies getting pets.

Which brings us to 2), or, why I'm not at Pride today helping.  It's not because it's Father's Day, although happy day to all you dads!  It's because it's also my birthday, and I wanted to sleep in and basically do nothing for most of the day, so that's the agenda.  Plus my man has homework to do, so.  Yeah.  Lazy Sunday.  I got some wonderful gifts from friends and family (huge kudos to my readerwife, who knows what I like, and to my man, who bought the dress I wore to Pride--you can tell a boy dressed me for that, can't you) and cards and messages and a whole lot of love, so thank you!  I love you too!  Happy birthday to me, and I look forward to many more years of knowing you, talking with you, writing for you and referring to you all as my darlins, because you are.  I am an incredibly fortunate person.



Happy day, guys.  Happy, happy day:)

New Release: Out in Colorado!

Holy shit, I almost let another new release pass me by.  The Out in Colorado anthology consists of six stories written by Colorado m/m authors (we're working on branching out, though), all set in Colorado, and I'm one of those authors.  We wanted to have something to pimp at Denver PrideFest this year and now we do!  And nooo, of course I didn't model one of my characters on my husband--what, honey?  Nooo, baby, don't worry!  No one would know even if I did!

Except all of you...

Okay, so maybe by reading my story you'll learn a little more about my personal life than you might otherwise, but the resemblance isn't too deep.  My story is called Casual Brilliance, is set right here in beautiful Boulder Colorado, and is full of things that you're going to think are gross generalizations and/or cliches: they aren't.  The biking, the pot, the snow, the spectacle--this is Boulder, people!  Come and visit it if you don't believe me, I just got back from the Pearl Street Mall and in the space of four blocks I saw five violinists, two magicians, a contortionist, an old couple playing bluegrass, a man who set his own pants on fire while solving a Rubic's cube (highly amusing), and a plethora of bohemian panhandlers.  And that's nothing compared to the chaos of Memorial Day weekend, when 60,000 people are expected to run the 10k Bolder Boulder on Monday.

At any rate, if you're interested in Colorado, there are stories from a wide variety of authors in different locations, with different themes and different genres.  Colorado is the only thing they all have in common.  Below is an excerpt from mine: enjoy, darlins!

PS, if you're going to be in Denver for Pride, come find us!  The 16th is my birthday and I want to celebrate with as many people as possible!

PPS, oh hey, wow, I just remembered that I named my main character after my sister's boyfriend.  I had some issues while writing this story, clearly, folks.  Still good, though:)

Casual Brilliance

By Cari Z

Joey Graham was suspicious of the package even before he opened it.  It was small, brightly wrapped and had a bow on one bulbous end, which for his family was a sure sign it was something he wasn’t going to like.   Presents wrapped in last week’s Sunday comics were good; presents that sparkled were nothing but a lure.  He split the wrapping paper along the seam, tipped the small glass pipe out into his hand and turned to glare at his sister.  “Oh c’mon.  Really?”

“What?  What, it’s legal there now, right?”  Carla looked way too pleased with herself.  “You can totally get away with it!”

“Maybe if I was a ski bum,” Joey said, “but I’m going to be working in a federal research lab.  I kind of doubt that they’d be so understanding of me getting high.”

“They don’t have to know,” Carla said coaxingly.  “Just get baked on the weekends.”

“Or not at all.”

She frowned, looking like a toddler on the edge of a tantrum.  “Well if you’re not going to use it, I’ll take it back—”

Their mother smacked Carla’s reaching hand.  “There are no take-backs at Christmas.  And it’s just a gag gift, of course,” she added, looking expectantly at her daughter.  Carla shrugged and rubbed her hand, radiating righteous hurt.  “Oh stop it, those eyes don’t work on me.”  She turned back to her son.  “I still don’t really understand why they hired you so late; you applied in May,” she fretted.

“I think they had a problem with their last postdoc,” Joey said, putting the little pipe on top of the rest of his Christmas gifts.  He’d gotten a Denver guidebook from his mother, an REI gift certificate from his uncle, and a pair of plastic snowshoes from his grandmother.  Hopefully those were something he would never have to use. 

“So you’re better than nothing,” his sister said with a shrug.  “I get it.”

“Carla!”  His mother looked as angry as a small, round woman with frizzy blond hair and a perpetually sunny disposition could look, which wasn’t very angry at all.  “Go and get a trash bag for all the paper, please.” 

Carla rolled her eyes but got to her feet, and his mother turned back to Joey.  “I just think it’s a bit inconvenient,” she sighed.  “I mean, I can’t get time off work to go help you move in—”

“I’ve got it taken care of,” Joey assured his mother quickly; Jesus, the last thing he needed was his mom coming with him to his first real job.  “The U-Haul is all packed up, I’ve got an apartment waiting for me, I’m good, Mom.  You know I am.”

“I know, but January is a terrible time to be in Colorado, isn’t it?  Won’t it be snowy?”

“This is Chicago, Mom,” Joey pointed out. “It’s not like I’m moving there from Florida.  I can handle some snow.”

“He can ski from place to place once he gets there,” Carla called from the kitchen.  “Or snowboard.  Don’t they mostly snowboard there?  You could hitch up to the back of someone’s ATV!  Or...” She poked her head around the door. “You could get a snowmobile!  I bet they’re street legal there during the winter.”

“Snowmobiles are death traps!” their mother scolded.  “Remember what happened to Cousin Art!”

“Mom, Art was a dumbass who got drunk and drove his snowmobile into a lake.  It was totally his own 

fault.  Besides, they found him.”

“Not before he lost toes to hypothermia,” their mother replied.  “Which would never have happened if he hadn’t been on a snowmobile in the first place.  Honey,” she said as she turned to look at Joey, “whatever you do, promise me you won’t drive a snowmobile drunk.  Or an ATV.  Or any sort of moving vehicle.”

Of all the things he had never expected to come out of his mother’s mouth… “I promise,” Joey said solemnly.

“And promise not to become a tree-hugging, granola-eating hippie either,” Carla said, coming back in with a trash bag and three cups of coffee.  She handed them around and sat back down on the couch.  “Isn’t Boulder, like, the most liberal town in the US?”

“I think that’s Berkeley, actually.”

“They do have a Catholic church there, don’t they?” his mother asked worriedly. 

“They have plenty of churches,” Joey sighed.  He’d checked when he went for his interview, because he’d known his mother would ask.  “Mom, moving to Boulder isn’t suddenly going to turn me into a stoner, or an atheist, or a drunk-driving snowmobiler.  It’s a nice town, and NIST is a great place to do my postdoc.  I’m lucky to be going there.”

“I suppose,” his mother allowed.  “I just wish you were a little closer to home, that’s all.”

“I know you do,” Joey said with a little smile.  He wasn’t about to tell her that the distance was one of the major selling points for him, after living in Illinois his whole life.

“When do you leave again?” Carla asked.

“Tomorrow.  I start there on the second.”

“Well,” his mother sighed.  “At least you got to spend Christmas with family.”

***