Xavier Axelson, author of Dutch’s Boy, is here today and I can't wait to find out how:
Oh wait…I’m in Malibu…there are dolphins jumping, the sun is shining, there are lobsters and dark beer for drinking…did that handjob scene make sense though?
I’ll have dirty rice and steamed vegetables please…Is that the biggest beer you have?
It’s usually halfway through the meal when I actually stop being a writer and start being a person again. By the time I drive through the majestic canyons I am almost normal, balancing between sanity and the plunging depths just below…but did that handjob scene…
You see what I mean?
Writing is also incredibly fragile. You could go blind and not be able to see the screen, what if you get arthritis in your hands and your fingers curl into twisted, painful twigs? What if you fall into a coma before you write that HEA that your publisher insisted upon? Can any of us spare even a single minute away from our writing? After all it could be our last…Now I know why Van Gogh cut of his ear and so many writers go crazy…Actually, are there any writers out there who aren’t a little off?
As someone who writes and reads way too much I have found that I just simply must put limits on these two things that bring me more pleasure than almost anything else, save eating…but I’ve discovered a writer must absolutely have chocolate to get through the 1000’s of words that careen across the page into infinity, if only as an anchor to keep you from spinning off into the atmosphere. The gym is a helpful anchor…making out in a car with a relative stranger…great anchor! Cleaning out your wardrobe…anchor…you catching my drift yet?
Writers need anchors.
I am a satellite by nature. All I need is to start thinking about a star that hasn’t been named yet, or a plant that I could be saving from Target, or about the time my Aunt swore she saw a jackalope and I’m off on some other fantastical journey…What was I talking about?
Writing is a killer…I will probably die writing…my eyes will probably burn out of my head and fall like flaming, melting orbs of marshmallow onto my keyboard while my brain leaks out of my ears like brown gravy…speaking of gravy…
No, but seriously, have you heard that I have two new books coming out soon? I say they are coming out because I won’t even think of them NOT coming out…The first is called “Lily’s Father,” it is sad, scary, sexy and strange…oh and all about Father’s Day…I hope you will all love it. When I told someone what it was about, they looked at me and said, “Wow, you’ve completely turned Father’s Day upside down!”
To which I cagily replied… “That’s because I’m always standing on my head!”
Lily’s Father First sentence sneak peak:
I am Lily’s father my name is Pryor. It was a year ago last Father’s Day when she was taken from me. I believe being Lily’s father is the most important thing in the world. Unfortunately, my daughter dwells in another world.
The second is called “The Good Cop” not to be confused with anything else with the same title…I am in love with this story. Angel and Michael…what can I say about these two? Their story is touching, steamy, and strangely innocent. I have a cop in the family so if I don’t get this one right I’m screwed…
The Good Cop First Sentence sneak peak:
“Hey Carmac, what are you doing here?”
Officer Michael Carmac had been caught on his knees, a position he didn’t get into unless duty called. He looked up to see his partner Angel looking down at him, a strange look on his face.
“I don’t know,” was the best Carmac could do.
So keep your peepers peeped for these two new releases…check me out online or on facebook and for goodness sake find someone to make out with!
And if you want more of Xavier, check out his column at examiner.com. Link below:
Dutch’s Boy by Xavier Axelson
This story contains: Oral Cowboys, Wild Horses, Gun’s on Trains, Voyeuristic Masturbation, Sugar being used in a most suspect manner and Dangerous Horse Trainers with ulterior motives…Please be careful….
Publisher: Seventh Window Publications
Dutch's Boy is available to buy here:
Blake’s eyes were deep gray, like river rock cold and appraising. This was a man who had seen a lot and wasn’t afraid to take advantage if only for his own survival.
“You bring a gun with you, Harry?”
Harry drained his beer before responding, he had been trying not to look directly at Blake, but that familiar twinge between his legs was making it harder to look away. Blake was not a bad looking guy; his eyes sparkled when he smiled, not unlike a snake Harry thought suddenly. Blake’s skin was tanned, weathered, he had worked long and hard in the sun Harry guessed, and when Blake smiled, which was often, Harry noticed the lines that formed by his gray eyes and the corners of his mouth. Harry thought of Reb and the dream then, this wasn’t Reb but Harry wasn’t sure he would ever see Reb again and he was alone.
“You alright, Harry?”
“Yeah fine, why?”
“Cuz I asked you if you brought a gun with you and you’re just staring at me like you’re mute or something.” Blake scratched his stubbly cheek and took a final swig of his beer, those gray eyes still searching Harry.
“Yeah, um, yeah I brought something with me, they took it though, guess I ain’t as clever as you.” Harry nodded towards Blake’s waist.
Blake looked down to wear his gun was secured. “You wanna see it?”
Xavier's Website: http://www.xaviersaxel.webs.com/
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