When I first burst onto the erotic romance scene (sorry, I have a flare for the dramatic, it was more of a slow saunter than a burst) I was courted by a fellow authours. By all accounts that I have heard, a male who writes the kind of stuff that I write, is somewhat of a rarity. Truth is, most men would rather write about guns, or bombs or crooked shadowy organisations that secretly run the world. That’s all well and good, but for me, the prospect of writing something that is going to turn on a female reader, make her heart pound and make her long for the man liek the one I have written in my story, is something I get more joy out of. I get my reward from the readers pleasure so I prefer to write romance with a certain steam factor.
Where was I? Oh yeah, “bursting”.
Anyways, liek I said, I was courted by a few female writers in the romance genre, something about my XY chromosomal structure made me appealing to them and offers to write with female writers frequently found their way into my Facebook chat windows or my emails.
Although sales of my books don’t reflect it exactly (not yet at least), apparently there is a demand for romance books written from the male POV, so I guess I can see the appeal of writing with me in a way.
I said no to everybody (this isn’t entirely true, I did a small collaboration with Ginger Ring on her holiday story, Getting Busy For Christmas), if for no other reason than that I was new at this whole writing romance thing and truthfully, I had no idea how it was going to all workout. I’d never written anything with a partner, so I had no idea what to expect and then Sable “Fucking” Hunter wandered into my life and we became friends. When I met Sable, she was selling enough copies of her books to make me and most independent authours jealous, but humble ol’ Sable just refused to see it. She gave me a book of hers to read and I knew that while she was selling well already, she had the potential to really make a name for herself in the genre. She suggested we write something together, but admittedly, I was intimidated by her work and her ability to do it so often. She’s this remarkable little juggernaut who never stops creating and that scared the crap out of me. Never the type to push, Sable accepted my no to her first proposal, but left the door open to discuss it in the future.
When she approached me to help her with a book she was writing I begged off, but she assured me that she wasn’t asking me to ‘co-authour’ with her, just to lend a helping hand with some parts (mostly the sexy parts J). I took her up on her offer, surely I could make a few suggestions relating to plot and add some ‘fuck’ to her sex scenes.
It was easy to be honest, I read what she’d written and added my 2 cents. The book was Forget Me Never, a book that also included some added writing by her brother Jess. I’ve been to the book page on Amazon and I’ve read the reviews, but mostly I’ve read the negative reviews. A few were upset that this Sable Hunter book wasn’t as good as her previous books, that something seemed ‘disjointed’ and a few even pontificated that it was the inclusion of the other writers that made it so.
This of course bothered me. Now, I’m well-aware that there will be negative reviews, that’s just a fact, but it bothered me and it only made sense that I was to blame for these reviews, after all, I had been one of the other writers who had joined Sable for the book. So I was hesitant when Sable and I again broached the subject of writing together, this time, co-authouring a book and making it into a series. After some lengthy discussion, we decided to try it and I started telling people about it.
Inevitably, people started asking how we would do it and I was dumbfounded. I myself had no idea how we would do it. Sable is able to keep these complex worlds and plots straight in her head, she writes based on emotions and feelings and I’m the kind of writer who needs a roadmap. This happens, then this happens, then they do this, then this happens. That’s how I see and write. So I think we both understood that it was going to be hard, we’d have to learn each other’s styles as we went along, adapt to each other and basically make it up on the fly.
It hasn’t been easy. We fight, we disagree and we don’t always communicate well because of the distance between us, but those are the obstacles of writing a book with someone who lives over 1200 miles away from you. You negotiate the hazards and believe me, there are many. Liek I said, we fight and we make-up and then do it all again. And then there are the sex scenes, discussing those alone can be a hazard, a good hazard, but a hazard none the less.
So how do we do it?
We just do.
Somehow we know each other well enough to know that we will get over each hurdle and keep going.
If anyone out there reading this has had that same idea to collaborate with a member of the opposite sex, I say go for it, try it, it just may work, but don’t forget, God’s greatest joke was making men and women so very different, so don’t be surprised if along the way you find yourself saying, “What the hell is she/he talking about?”
Here are some of my links and an excerpt from my newest book – HAPPY TO BE STUCK WITH YOU. Also, check out my other books. I have J’s Closet, Green With Envy with Sable Hunter, Forget Me Never with Sable and Thunderbird to be released in the spring.
Buy link –
Facebook page –
Excerpt from Happy to be Stuck With You:
“Your dad? I get that. Well, I have some money socked away for a rainy day.” I gestured toward the window. “And today seems like a rainy day. It’s not enough to get you a place, but you’re welcome to it if you need it.”
“When did it start raining?”
“You must have not noticed because I’m so handsome.”
J growled at me and nipped my chin. “That you are, Mr. Ross. Thank you for the offer, but I think it’s a little early on to be taking money from you.”
“We can say it’s for service’s rendered.”
“I told you, I’m not a hooker. And if I was,” she pulled away from me and headed for the door, looking back over her shoulder at me, “you couldn’t afford me.”
I darted after her and she screamed. “I’d rob banks, run drugs, perform contract hits if I had to, to get the money.”
“But you don’t.”
I pulled her snug to me and kissed her hard. Instantly my cock surged with blood.
J placed a tiny hand on the side of my face. “Easy, Boy. As much as I’d love to stay and partake in what I can feel pressing against my stomach…” I ground my erection into her, our lips millimeters apart. “I need to get to work.”
“I’ll call your boss and tell him you can’t make it,” I offered.
“I doubt he’d understand.”
“Then I’ll kill him and you won’t have a job to go to anymore.”
“Then you’d go to jail and we’d never see each other again. Except for conjugal visits, I guess.”
“Those would be some epic conjugal visits, wouldn’t they?”
I was horny as hell again. I picked J up and carried her over to the table full of sweaters I’d been folding earlier.
“Travis.” She kissed me on the neck. “I can’t. Really, I’m late as it is. I can’t afford to lose this job. Not now.”
“Arrrrrr!!!” My growl of disappointment echoed through the small shop. “This is so not fair.”
She was so small in my arms, I just couldn’t bring myself to let go of her.
“Put me down, Baby.”
She called me Baby.
I squeezed her tight. “If you live to be a million years old, you will never understand how good you just made me feel by saying that.”
She looked me in the eyes. “It felt right, didn’t it?”
“Nothing has ever felt more right in my life.”
I kissed her again and this time she kissed back just as hard before pulling away harshly.
“Arrrrr!!!” This time it was her turn to howl in frustration. “You’re right, this is so not fair. I wanna stay here in your arms all night, Baby. But I can’t. I really have to go.”
I placed my face on her chest and she stroked the back of my neck. “I’ll let you go, on one condition.”
“Say it again.”
“Say what, Baby?”
I put her feet back on the ground and released her from my grip—the hardest thing I’d done all day. “I will never get sick of that. Now get the hell out of here, Walsh. This is a classy joint.”
“Well, I never,” she huffed.
“Did you bring an umbrella?”
“Where would I have kept it?” She opened her coat.
A low whistle escaped my lips. “Don’t be cruel like that, Walsh. I don’t see one, you better let me check your inside pockets to make sure.”
She slapped away my probing hand. “Down, Boy.”
I lifted an umbrella out of a stand beside the door. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
The rain was pounding down. Luckily, J had parked just out of view of the store windows and the big black Burberry canopy above our heads deflected the rain nicely and forced J to huddle close to me.
I opened the door, kissed her and let her in. “Nice car.”
She slid into the posh interior of her Audi. “It’s his. I’m getting rid of it as soon as possible.”
“You got an umbrella in there somewhere with you?”
I could see there wasn’t one.
“Somewhere,” J assured me without even pretending to check.
I shut her door and closed the umbrella after flapping the water off a few times. “Take it.”
“No, Travis. I can’t.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling.”
“I’ll bring it back tomorrow so you don’t have to pay for it.”
“Don’t worry, Walsh. I get a good employee discount.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” I leaned into her open window and gave her a kiss. “Now go make some money. And don’t forget to put some clothes on. And, J.”
She looked up at me with a smile. “Yes?”
“Nothin’.” I stepped back and smacked the roof of her car.
She pulled away slowly, not even bothering to check to see if anyone was coming.
I stood in the rain, already soaked to the bone. “I love you.”