I’m an author. I can write anything right? You can’t see me but I’m laughing right now. Cracking up actually. I write as personal therapy. When I started writing I never planned on publishing anything. I wrote for me, and didn’t show anyone. Well I had a good friend beg until I let them read something I wrote and they told me I had to publish. I knew nothing about the market, or that queer books were even a thing, but I submitted to a few publishers and the rest is history. I’ve always written pretty gritty books. Well at least all the ones I’ve published. I like ripping my characters apart and making them feel things. It’s been a great way to deal with my own anxiety and depression, on top of things from my childhood, and other experiences including dating abusive people.
So as I’m sitting here, sixty thousand words into what I’ve decided I would call romantic comedy. I am shocked, and a little horrified with myself. Don’t get me wrong, I am throughly enjoying this book. I’ve worked humor into most of my novels. Bound is full of moments to laugh at, intermixed with heartbreak, and me torturing my characters. I enjoy laughing, and making myself laugh, but it’s just not gritty like my other books are. It’s different for me. There are no tragic back stories. No heavy angst. Sure there are challenges, it wouldn’t be a story without an issue for the main character to deal with, but not my normal level.
I write romance, my books have sex in them. Anyone who’s read my books knows this, but I have had betas tell me to add more sex into books. (Both Bound 4, and Clouded Hell.) I tend to get so focused on emotions and working through the issues that there is less sex. In this book? It’s the opposite. The characters can’t stop banging. I wrote what may be, in my opinion, the hottest scene I’ve ever written, and it involves a camera.
And the biggest dilemma in all of this? As I sit here and write this romantic comedy I find that it’s flowing, no issues writing, but damnit I can’t find any damn music to listen to. I listen to a lot of alternative and most of it is pretty angst ridden. I love it and it’s helped get me through a lot of tough times in my life. But it is not fitting this funny, even light hearted book. I don’t know what to do with myself. Maybe it’s just my brain’s new way of procrastinating as I search youtube to find songs to better match the tone of the book.
Hung over in front of the Queen was exactly what you didn’t want to be doing on a Saturday morning. But here I was. Maybe I was still drunk. I’m not even sure at this point. All I remember was Anne kept filling my gin and tonic and I lost count.
“You don’t look so good.” The Queen commented as I started to pour myself some tea with shaky hands. Then she looked at her watch and tsked.
“I didn’t except to be summoned so early in the morning.”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“So early in the morning.” I met her gaze and she gave me a flat look.
“If you weren’t actually charming and as pure of heart as I know you to be I’d disinherit you.”
“You don’t have any better options, and I behave for the public.”
She muttered under her breath. Something my grand mother loved to do when dealing with people who annoyed her. Like the prime minster. He was ever asking her what, and she’s smile and say, ‘You really do need to have your hearing checked James. I didn’t say a thing.’
One of the oldest tricks in her book. And she had many considering she was the longest ruling sovereign in British history. Frankly she needed to start writing them down so I could have a few of them.
“I just can’t die.” She scoffed into her tea.
“You know, if you acted like this for the public they’d probably like you better.”
“I don’t need to be liked they respect me.”
I brought the steaming cup of tea to my lips and moaned at the first taste. It wasn’t that the tea was particularly good, but more that my body was in desperate need of fluid after last nights events.
“I’m sure they’ll respect me when the time comes.”
“Not the way the rumors are going.”
“Rumors.” I flashed her a wry smile. “There is no proof, just whispers.” And since the rumors were quite purposefully cultivated I wanted them to remain, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. It was all about slight of hand.
She looked at the ceiling. Like she was having a conversation with her dead husband. Something she did often. “The country needs stability. Especially after…” she gave me a look as she trailed off. She didn’t want to say it but I knew what she meant. After the disappointment my sister was. Neither of us liked to say it out loud because we both knew it wasn’t her fault. But the papers and public opinion had crucified her long ago. It was hard enough to be a teen without your every action and mistake being for public consumption.
King Consort Coming May 2018
“Gray writes straight from the heart on this one, the story had me captivated, emotional and angry all the way through. The contrast between the character’s voices really show his talent as a writer. This is a must read.” – Bestselling Author Kerry Heavens