Working on my blog short

I am going to try and have another post for From Fiction to Reality up sometime in the next couple of days. I'm sorry I haven't really been posting it. But I'm going to try and post every week at least. My job wears me out, but that's no excuse for me to keep my readers hanging. I will work on it tomorrow and hopefully have the next 1k words up for you shortly.

Personal Goal...

After submitting my short story last night to Silver Publishing, getting the edits back on Fragments of a Unicorn's Soul short story, and hearing that one of my best friends had another book accepted by Dreamspinner Press, it motivated me to want to write. So I am setting a personal goal for myself. As of tonight, once I have settled in from work and am at my computer, I will write 1000 words to my ongoing story even if it kills me. I cannot let myself get distracted. Writing is what I want to do more than anything and I cannot let my job take that from me. They already take so much.

My biggest problem when I'm writing is I tend to read over what I have written and analyze it instead of just writing and then going back to start at the beginning. So I am going to try to not do that while I'm writing these 1k words a night. A thousand words is nothing! I should be able to do! *pumps fist in the air* I think. >.>

I do want to say Congratulations on your newest book acceptance, Hayley James! You deserve it no matter what anyone else may say and just remember that you have friends who love and support you! *HUGS*

And I leave you all with a very cute and sexy picture!! XD

What to write...

When I had my first book accepted, everyone told me start a blog, start a twitter, start a Facebook profile, but they don't tell you what to write. I may be a writer of fiction, but blogging is about reality. You're supposed to write about your recent stories or whatever exciting thing may have happened in your life. But what if you don't have anything exciting that happens? What if it's the same boring day, day in and day out?

I go to work, come home, walk the dog, take a shower, do whatever I need to do, play Warcraft every couple of days, and try to force myself to get into the mood to write. My job has sucked out the urge, which is the exact opposite of what I figure it would do. After all, I don't enjoy being there anymore, so you'd think it would motivate me to get my butt in gear. Only... it hasn't. It just exhausts me to where I don't want to think.

They load me down with so much work that there is no humanly possible way to finish it all in the time they want. And it stresses me out because I'm anal retentive when it comes to doing a good job. My boss micro manages me to the point where I want to scream sometimes. I'm not an idiot and you don't have to direct me what to do every minute of every day. I understand when something important comes up, but let me do what I need to do on a regular basis. If you leave me alone, I get more done. He doesn't seem to get that concept. I feel resentful all the time now. And when he calls my name, the hairs on the back of my neck go up, like a cat who's pissed and hissing. Sometimes, I have to bite my tongue not to say something very bad and walk out.

I love writing. Writing is like breathing for me. I've had a passion for it since I was in school. I won a couple of awards in middle school, but never pursued it in High school. High school was a depressing time for me. I wasn't one of the in-crowd so I spent most of my time alone after I was moved to another school. I didn't talk to people easily, very introverted, shy and low self-esteem. I've gotten a lot better with that. Now I'm more of an anti-social than shy. I speak my mind, which some people hate me for but hey, if you hate me for it, then you don't matter, right?

I love dialogue, I love reading about lives other than my own. There are so many ways a person's life can move in a book. Things can happen in a book that don't happen in real life even. Shifters, vampires, dragons and you can immerse yourself in a story and pretend, just for a little while, that you are that person, the one who rescues people or who can shift into a wonderous creature. You can be the person who's loved by someone unconditionally, no matter who they are. You can forget about your own life and your own troubles and move on.

When I write, I write from that perspective. We all love angst and seeing our characters put through pain, but when it comes to the end of the story, (even the most hard-hearted person), loves to see the characters given their happy ending. Being told I love you. Triumphing over the evil in the story, be it tangible in the form of a character or intangible in the form of an emotion.

I'm sorry to those who have started reading my blog story posts. I know I haven't updated them in a long time. I apologize. It's like I said previously, I can't think most days. I'm hoping the exercise I intend to start tonight, an hour a night, will help me clear my head and motivate me. It may tire me out at first, but perhaps after that it will make me feel good or better. Isn't that what they say? That when you exercise it makes you feel better?

Anyway, it is time for me to finish getting ready to go to work. Perhaps I will have an update for my short story on this blog soon.

~J.R.~

Swift's Temptation Released Today!

*****POST REMOVED*****

Gorgeous Bookmarks!!!

Hey, all who follow me!! I just got my new bookmarks in!! They turned out absolutely gorgeous! I am so happy with them!! If you'd like to have one send me an email at jrloveless@gmail.com and I'll get one out to you asap!!

Waiting.... and Newest Upcoming Release...

I submitted another story to Dreamspinner Press and I have to say the waiting is killing me. It takes so long to write the story, edit it and prepare it for submission, but even though that seems like it takes forever, the waiting I think is worse.

It's kind of like anticipation tinged with dread. Are they going to accept it? Am I going to get another rejection and then have to wait again for another company's answer? >.<

My faith and hope are holding strong though. I think the newest story I submitted is by far superior to most everything else I've had accepted. At least in terms of grammar and style. Don't know about plotline though. :/

My newest upcoming release is Swift's Temptation. It's about small town farmboy Fagan Swift and the new job he accepts at an escort agency where he meets Xavier James. Their relationship is instant sparks, but not the good kind. Constantly at each other's throats (verbally), they dance around their attraction until the morning after the company Holiday party and Fagan wakes up in a strange hotel room only to find out he'd had a one night stand with Xavier.

In his blind panic, he rushes out of the hotel room and on his way home receives a phone call sending him straight home to the farm. Xavier follows him back to the farm only to take advantage of Fagan's weakness by blackmailing him into a sex-only relationship. A relationship that Fagan has no choice but to accept or risk losing his father. Will Fagan be able to keep it together or will he lose himself and everything he is to Xavier?

Watch for Swift's Temptation coming soon from Silver Publishing! No release date yet but hopefully I'll know sometime soon but I'll keep you posted.

I bid you all a goodnight. Thanks for listening to my mini rant and also for my shameless plug of my newest book. XD *hugs to everyone*

From Fiction to Reality Pt. 2

Breath catching, Sam could only stare at the beautiful man carefully picking up pieces of a broken plate off the tile floor. His body instantly reacted to the jean-clad long-legged, lean physique and muscular upper body. Dark auburn hair cut in a neat, slicked back style and light blue eyes made his cock sit up and take notice. Down boy, he mentally demanded, trying to force a smile for the stranger.

When he’d finally shaken himself from his stupor, the man’s eyes danced merrily as he dumped the fragments of glass into the nearby trash can, seemingly knowing his impact on Sam. Sam cleared his throat and said, “I’m Sam. Sam Evans. I live next door and heard the glass as I was leaving.”

The man walked towards Sam, his hand held out. “Maxwell Shaw. Max for short.”

Hesitantly, Sam set his hand in Max’s, swallowing hard at the rough palm against his. He quickly pulled his hand back, praying he could keep his erection down long enough to make his escape. Damn, it had been too long. “I didn’t realize anyone had moved in here. It’s been empty for a while now.”

A gorgeous smile broke out across the firm, full lips and Sam shifted uncomfortably. “I just bought the place about two days ago. The movers brought in most of the boxes and furniture.”

“I uh… I was actually on my way out for a run. So I’ll let you get to it. It was nice to meet you.” Sam started to back up, but Max stopped him.

“What do you do for a living, Sam?”

“Freelance graphic design work mostly,” he lied. He wrote under a pen name for a reason. Sam Evans had nothing to connect him to John Hawkes.

Something flashed through Max’s eyes, but it disappeared before Sam could figure out what it meant. “Maybe I could enlist your services for my company then. I have a huge project coming up in the near future and could use a graphic designer. Do you have a portfolio?”

Coldness ran through Sam and his stomach clenched. “I’m afraid that I’m booked until the end of the year. I actually only intended to be gone for a little while. Needed a small break. I should get back to it.”

“If you change your mind, let me know,” Max replied quietly.

Sam spun on his heel and darted down the hallway to his apartment, but changed his mind and headed for the elevator. It dinged open just as he reached it and he sighed gratefully. As the doors slid closed, he caught sight of Max standing in the doorway of the apartment. Fear slivered down his spine and he tried to laugh it off. Something felt off about Max. He worked at convincing himself it was nothing more than his overactive imagination as he hit the sidewalk and started running. His agent’s words the other day rang in his head. “Be careful, Sam. This guy seems pretty persistent.”

It was a well known fact in the literary world that John Hawkes preferred men. The last few months his agent, Harrison Jacobs, had been receiving stalker-type letters addressed to John Hawkes. From the first day of his writing career eight years ago, Sam insisted on anonymity. He refused to do public appearances, interviews, or even have his picture featured on the flaps of his book like most authors. He’d seen one too many lives destroyed by the paparazzi and didn’t want to be subjected to having no privacy. The letters didn’t concern him because he figured no one could ever know he was in fact John Hawkes.

He shivered in the cool night air as he remembered the look in Maxwell Shaw’s eye and the strange intensity he’d given off. He mentally examined every detail about John Hawkes, trying to remember if there were anything at all that could tie them together. A sound behind him caused his steps to falter and he stopped completely, turning around to look for the source of the noise. Car horns blared in the distance and the heavy bass of some car with the music too loud boomed in the night, but he saw nothing there.

Sam laughed at himself under his breath and began running again. His own books were starting to get to him. The latest scene a gory, brutal murder of a gay man picked up at a bar by a serial killer. Although the scene wasn’t going so well. He had exactly five sentences written and nothing worth a damn either.

He turned into the park, making his usual path back to his building. The doorman greeted him as he opened the door for Sam. “Nice night for a run, eh Sam?”

“Definitely, Joe. Needed the break,” he panted, smiling at the man who’d known him for the six years he’d lived in the building. They sometimes sat down for coffee together and talked about a recent football game or Joe’s daughter and her new baby. “How’s Sara?”

“She’s doing good! I have a new picture of the baby!” Joe whipped out his wallet and Sam chuckled, accepting the picture willingly. A beautiful doe-eyed baby girl looked back him.

“She’s getting so big,” Sam commented softly, lightly tracing the baby’s features. He’d thought about having a family more than once. Of course, not the old fashioned way, but he would love to have a baby girl or boy. He handed the picture back to Joe. “She’s gorgeous, Joe. Definitely going to be a looker like her mother.”

Joe gave the usual doting grandfather expression, staring down at the picture lovingly. “She’s just like her mother.”

Sam clapped Joe on the back lightly and nodded. “Good luck with that one, Joe. She’s going to be a handful. Coffee tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Sam. See you at eight.” Joe never looked away from the photo as Sam walked away.