The Solstice Gift: Behrouz and Lucky on the Longest Night is a novella; an erotic romp though Northampton, Massachusetts, featuring six threesomes, many meals, lots of butch-on-butch shenanigans, and a veritable army of dashing queers. Looking for a nifty stocking stuffer? Order signed copies of The Solstice Gift: Behrouz and Lucky on the Longest Night for your lucky pals.
Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism did not win the Lammy this year. The LGBTQ Nonfiction winner was Looking for Lorraine: The Radiant and Radical Life of Lorraine Hansberry by Imani Perry. Beef up your reading list and get inspired with this years Lammy winners and runner-ups!
I’m still working on editing Doily is my Safeword, informally referred to as Clean Doily and Dirty Doily. The thing is, things got complicated; Doily is my Safeword takes place between November 2015 and August 2016. It was one hell of a time period — everyone was dying and we thought it couldn’t get any worse, but we were naive and innocent because Trump was elected in November 2016. Now, the world feels like it’s imploding, and it’s all I can do to curl up on the sofa with my cat, a hot entree from Trader Joe’s if I’m feeling energetic, and Rachel Maddow. Well, not Rachel Herself, but the tiny version of her that lives inside of my phone. Anyway, I’m editing Clean Doily with The Mueller Report by my side, and everything has a certain pall. I swear, I’ll finish both books soon!
I am also working on a new smutty short story called “The Solstice Gift” about what happens when older folks say, “You don’t need to get me anything; I have everything I need.” when asked what they’d like as a holiday gift. Ha! We can all use a little something. Costarring Behrouz and Lucky, Paradise Pond at Smith College, way too much plaid flannel, pies and kombucha, librarians with cute butts and mad cataloging skills, and scads of hot butches.
I reopened my Etsy shop, Whippersnapped! In a frenzy of frustration and fury at the current (ahem) political situation, I’ve been customizing bandanas…accoutrements for resistance as it were. Are you bent, an invert, a friend of Dorothy, butch AF, a fence-sitter, femme AF, fey AF, a witch, LGBTQ RSVP, or fabulous as fuck? A vegan, a peacenik, a librarian, or a mother and an activist? Some combination of it all? If you don’t see a design that appeals to your hot little head, then I buy the custom bandana and let me know what you’d like!
I just got word yesterday that Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII (Stacked Deck Press) is a Lambda Literary Award finalist! I’m totally stunned and humbly honored.
Resistance would never have happened without the copy editing, support, and book design chops of Diane Kanzler, a fabulous crew of LGBTQ+ artists, Laura Antoniou’s impassioned foreword, and my publisher, Tara’s belief in our vision. I have a hell of a lot more to say, but will reserve that for when I can collect myself…we may be in for a long wait! Please check out the other Lambda Literary Award finalists, and add to your 2019 reading list!
I’m in the process of dividing Doily Is My Safeword into two books; a book of fiction and a book of smut, which I’m jokingly calling ‘Clean Doily’ and ‘Dirty Doily’. At some point I realized that the intersection of folks who like to read queer BDSM smut and folks who like to read queer fiction was small, so making it into two books seemed like a great way to make Behrouz and Lucky’s story more accessible to more people. I wrote Doily Is My Safeword the year of the election when so many beloved entertainers were dying, yet we were totally naive about the horror of the future, actually finishing it November of 2016. I’m startled by my foresight.
“Oh no, not at all! My worries are more nefarious. Well, maybe not nefarious, but more extensive at least. I worry about Theo with her Marfan Syndrome. What if her heart tanks in some unlikely place and she can’t get to the hospital in time? And what if that fiend, Trump wins the election? What about that? Will I ever get the chance to return to Tehran? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful we got to spend a month here; it’s been a dream come true. It’s just that everything feels unsteady. San Francisco is tilting into a modern Gold Rush spurred on by technology. My dad used to take me to a local fossil pit to hunt for artifacts when I was a little girl in Virginia, and I remember my boots getting stuck in the mud, pulling them up with difficulty, the mud making a suctioning squishy noise. I’d panic, convinced that I was going to be sucked into the pit and stripped of my flesh until I was nothing but a pile of white bones. That’s what the world feels like right now.” – Behrouz talking to Lucky in the first page of the book.
It’s raining this morning,
Flannel sheets remind me of being 13 and in love,
Although at 13, I was not in love,
And had never slept between flannel sheets.
How can something this morning remind me of a nonexistent memory?
I remember you and I at 13,
Girlish, but not girlish,
Sleepovers and kisses,
My mother making us buckwheat pancakes on Sunday morning,
The snow piling up in the alley behind my house,
White iridescent flakes falling under the yellow streetlight,
“Baby Love” playing on my transistor radio,
As our legs tangled together under the wool blanket,
Your hands smoothing my skin,
We were so soft and young.
This never happened,
We lived in different countries,
You’re 10 years younger,
You hate Motown.
And this morning, it’s raining,
You’re 3,000 miles away,
I’m drinking tea,
Willing this memory of you,