By Jaime Samms (Guest Blogger)
Morning/Afternoon (whatever it is where you are!)
Some of you might know me. I'm Jaime Samms. It sounds so pretentious to say 'multi-published author', but hey. I guess I am. I'm still kind of getting used to that. For the most part, I write my stories because I love to write. That other people might get something, even just an hour or two of entertainment out of my efforts is a fantastic feeling.
I started writing a long, long time ago. I started letting other people read my writing, well, less long ago. Why? Because I was a little concerned that maybe I was off my rocker. When I set out to write a fantasy story, I spent way more time writing about the two heroes of the story hanging out, chatting, and...flirting. And not with the bar maids, either. Imagine. So I turned the story into a romance, and introduced those heroes to the bar maids. And got nothin'. They thanked the pretty girls for their beer and turned back to each other.
I tossed princesses and lusty wenches at them, damsels in distress and adventurous women who knew what to do with the business end of a sword. They ignored them all. (Though the did get in a tiff over the princess' brother...)
But they made up. And this is where I finally gave in to the obvious. They just wanted each other, and it was time we all admitted that fact. The scene that followed... :D Use your imagination. I did. And honestly, I never looked back.
I never read a conventional romance again, either. I don't know why, but they just don't seem as...romantic. Is it because of the way society views the whole idea of two men (or two women) together, that in order for them to show their romantic side it encompasses a whole 'nother level of trust and courage and mutual understanding than it does for a het couple? I think that's what appeals to me the most, in fact. In the world as we know it, for the most part, there is an entire set of personal strength a guy has to have to admit his love for his boyfriend to the world that often het people don't even think about. Nobody looks or thinks twice about seeing hubs and I walk down the street hand in hand. But if I was a guy? Or he was a girl? It would require something of an extra effort on my part to make that gesture.
So there it is, in part. My love affair with the gay romance genre is all about that inner strength to stand up and say "This is my man. This is who I love." That appeals to me immensely, and it's a characteristic almost all the guys I write about either have, or are searching for.
As for that couple that started the whole thing, way back at the dawn of my writing career, I never did finish their story. It kinda sucked. (not like That!!!) Ooh. Maybe that was the problem.... Heh. In any case, they remain my archetypes, my muses, and some day, I hope maybe I'll write their story. Or maybe, I do every time I take up my pen. If you're interested in reading any of those stories, you can find them at the links below.
My latest effort: Good to Be Home, you can find at Loveyoudivine Alterotica. (The fIrst book in the series, Who Says Shamrocks Aren't Lucky, is free!!!)
Blurb: Ian's budding relationship with David seems to focus on the one thing David is both fantastic at, and loves; sex. Ian's not sure he can keep up. When David's past comes calling, and David goes running, Ian is not sure what to think. He has no idea where he stands with his new lover, only that he's sure he doesn't want to share.
Excerpt: He was already getting out of the bed, wading through the dust floating in the sunbeams. The morning light shimmered through the hair on his legs and brightened his skin to a warm glow. Two weeks of watching him parade around my flat nearly naked most of the time and he was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. Or had the dubious privilege to piss off like that. I hopped out of bed after him.
He stopped, turned, hand on hip, and glared at me. "What?" He eyed my aching erection, but his expression didn't change.
"Do ye even know what for?"
I swallowed hard again but said nothing. So much for my erection.
"That's what I thought."
For a long minute, we both just stood there, watching each other. The sun dimmed. The room's temperature seemed to drop along with my hard-on. Finally, he shook his head and snatched up a shirt from his chair by the window.
I blinked. When had it become his chair? I guess since he sat in it every evening with a beer and a book, or a sketch pad, his feet tucked up, hair falling in his face, and just looked comfortable. And he'd only been doing it for two weeks. How fast had that happened?
"You can drive me home, yeah?" He disappeared inside his shirt for a moment, then yanked it down, stretching the tight fabric over hard muscle.
"Home. I do have a place of me own." He stood gazing about the room, bare arsed and sexy as hell, but clearly pissed. "Where the fuck are me trousers?"
"Here." I picked them up from where they were jammed half under the bed and handed them over. It was odd how my hand shook that much.
Where can you find all this writing? Free on my website: www.jaime-jaime.samms.com
At Freya's Bower: http://www.freyasbower.com/index.php?main_page=page&id=49
Loveyoudivine Alterotica: http://www.loveyoudivine.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=6_62
Total E-bound: http://www.total-e-bound.com/authordetail.asp?A_ID=133
Pink Petal Books: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=26
And coming soon to Dreamspinner Press.
....wow. I guess I am multi-published.