Friday, September 16, 2011

Kilt Kilpatrick: The David Bowie of Erotica

Céad míle fáilte romhat, a Kilt!

So maybe you can help me with my dilemma - how do you label a writer when all their stories are so different from each other? 

Take my very good friend Kilt Kilpatrick, the author of the new Ravenous Romance anthology UNDER THE KILT. Kilt is a literary chameleon who has written first time gay male erotica, naughty romps of a college co-ed, touching lesbian love stories, and even the occasional straight coupling (or tripling...). And though I have it on good authority that Kilt is a straight male, he certainly has been mistaken for some other sex and /or sexual orientation by readers who’ve assumed that only a gay man, a lesbian, a naughty co-ed, etc., could have written the story in question.

If that weren't enough tomfoolery already, when he’s not gender-bending, he’s genre-bending. I don’t normally look for spicy erotica in my historical fiction, science fiction, fantasy, steampunk or horror stories, but damn if Kilt isn't part alchemist and somehow manages to blend the most unlikely ingredients into wickedly delish literary cocktails. Come see what I mean:

A few of the twelve stories in UNDER THE KILT are perfectly contemporary; albeit very hot - but they’re arranged alongside other sneakier stories that seem buttoned down, ordinary and respectable until they quickly slant into the paranormal like a werewolf at that time of the month. Then there are lush historical tales with settings so richly detailed they’re like stepping into another world.  And you’ll also wander through stories set in the strange and scary surreal estate of fantasy, science fiction and horror (Yes, horror - who knew?) The Tiger's Tale is a historical fantasy set in the British Raj, featuring romance, intrigue, danger, tigers and gods in Victorian India.

A feisty Berkeley grad student says Later Days, Saints when two Mormon missionaries come knocking on her door with surprising results.  Next is Handsome and Grateful, a fractured fairytale take on the classic Brothers Grimm story of Hansel and Gretel, complete with a celebrity narrator, a slightly more mature Hansel and Gretel, a wicked witch, and a heroic woodsman – or are they? When the zombie apocalypse hits in Last Times at Ridgemont High, is it a nightmare come to life or a surprisingly sexy dream come true for our high school hero? Maybe a little of both...

What, two zombie stories in an erotica collection? A Zombacalypse horror story is an odd place to have a tender romance, but Kilt’s readers have especially liked the touching, haunting Love Bites: A Survival Guide. A Seattle fireman thinks he may be the last man on Earth after zombies overrun the world – until a mysterious woman appears. But is she real, or just his imagination, or something even worse? Don’t let the title of Humahumanukunukuapua’a scare you. It’s actually a charming story of a mainland girl in Hawaii having to cope with her increasingly powerful girlcrush on her best friend.

For the m/m fans, there are three more treats: Reach Out and Touch Someone is the "lost chapter" of Kilt’s debut novel, The Manny Diaries; in fact it’s the original opening to the book, but it was so hot the publishers decided to make it a stand-alone story. That Afternoon reads like a stand-alone story of a young man’s first time with another man, but it’s actually an excerpt from TMD, as is the sweet and spicy Christmas story Santa Claus is Coming.

Three truly fantastical stories round out the collection, including two never before published: Mutated States Of America is a post-apocalyptic romance-adventure set in a bizarre, savage but strangely beautiful near-future earth changed almost beyond recognition. Lady Cassiopeia’s Amaranthine Palace; or, the Aerial Xanadu is a quirky, baroque little Steampunk tale with a twist, a high-tech Tolkienesque fantasy set in the wild, wild, west of a techno-magical America that never was. Last is a novella, The Blue Morpheus Inn, a magical collaboration between Kilt and another popular Ravenous Romance author, the fabulous Inara Lavey (the bold, brilliant, wicked woman who rocks his world on a regular basis). Three college students heading home for the holidays are forced to spend the night at a mysterious motel where dreams come true, like it or not...

Though set in different times and places, and even different worlds, with varying degrees of fun and seriousness, these dozen Kilty pleasures all share the spicy romance elements that Ravenous readers have come to love. Some are wicked, some are sweet, some feature M/F action, some M/M, some F/F, or varying combinations of hot ménages; something for everyone, really. But make no mistake - these stories aren’t for everybody. Just you.

And btw, true confessions time... As you may have guessed by now, I’m not just an acquaintance who sure knows an awful lot about his very good friend’s anthology: I am Kilt Kilpatrick... and I truly hope you enjoy these as much as I enjoyed writing them for you!

Kilt Kilpatrick is the pen name of an Irish author sometimes called "the Ferris Bueller of San Francisco." When he's not writing sexy stories for Ravenous he is a nonfiction writer, public speaker, Bay Area event organizer, and somewhat oxymoronically, a biblical historian and atheist activist.

He is linguistically promiscuous; he is conversant in Irish Gaelic and bits and pieces of about two dozen other languages, including Welsh, Breton, Hungarian, Japanese, Arabic, American Sign Language, Cherokee, Klingon and Elvish. He loves reading, movies, dancing, sex, and has been a saber fencer for over 25 years.

He lives in San Francisco with his steady girlfriend and # 1 fencing partner Inara Lavey; who is also a Ravenous Romance writer. And yes, he does wear kilts. If you know anybody like that, it's probably him.

Titles by this author: The Manny Diaries, Bedknobs & Beanstalks: Anthology of Gay Erotic Fairy Tales (Contributor), Hungry for Your Love (Contributor), I Kissed a Girl: A Virgin Lesbian Anthology (Contributor), I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus (Contributer), Threesomes: An Erotic Anthology (Contributor)

You can find Kilt: Ravenous Romance and Facebook

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

JERI CAFESIN: Because I Love To Write

It's my pleasure to have novelist, Jeri Cafesin, visiting Over Coffee today. 

Many writers question our writing process, our ability to tell a story that takes readers to another place and another time. Writers are also readers and have read many good author's works. We can't help of comparing ourselves to those we respect and admire. Some how our writing, at least in our eyes, seem like *crap* in comparison to *real* authors.

Jeri touches on that insecurity and why we write.

I sat on the floor in the back of a bookstore in old town Pasadena perusing the selections. It was Saturday, late afternoon, another sunny day in L.A. I didn’t notice the store owners hustling everyone out the door and they didn’t see me in the back on the floor. After a while I picked a book I liked, got up and went to pay for it. The store was empty except for an old man sitting at a large desk awkwardly placed in the center of the main aisle. It blocked my way to the checkout so it was impossible to ignore him.

I greeted him with a quick ‘Hi,’ and smiled as I wriggled around the desk. He smiled back and asked me if I could get him a glass of water before the signing. I told him I didn’t work at the store. Then he asked me what I was still doing there. Buying a book, I told him. He took the book out of my hand and read the title, looked at me and smiled. This is good, he assured me, and handed the book back but kept staring at me with this funny grin on his face, like he had a secret.

He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. There was a tall stack of books on the desk next to him. The Martian Chronicles, one of my all time favorites. Then I noticed the sign on the easel in front of the desk. Ray Bradbury Live! Today at 5:00.

I blushed. He smiled with my acknowledgment. Ray Bradbury was one of my few idols and he was sitting in front of me. I was speechless at first, which is rare for me. The man was what I aspired to be, a great writer. I picked up one of the ‘special addition’ hard cover books on the desk and held it up. This is really good, too, I assured him. He laughed. In the all years I’d been writing fiction I was sure nothing I’d written touched his talent. And then I got sad.

I felt the tears come. I couldn’t stop them. I smiled at him, put his book back in the stack and turned away, started to walk to the checkout but he stopped me. He asked me what was up but I told him he couldn’t possibly understand, knowing who he was, what he was, and what I was not. Try me, he insisted.

So I did. I explained that I wrote too, but didn’t label myself a writer. Though it was easy for me to recognize talent when I read it, it was impossible for me to see it in my own work. Every time I put word to paper I questioned if it was any good.

Surprisingly, he laughed. Then he told me that he too had the same question running through his head with everything he wrote. More often than not when he read his own work he thought it was crap.

I was astonished. The man was a renowned novelist. How could he still question if he was any good? I had assumed once my work was recognized the uncertainty would never plague me again. The idea that I would have to battle my self-effacing ego the rest of my life, published or not was appalling, and I told him so.

His expression softened and he shook his head. Then he asked me why I write.

I’d never really considered the question before. I’d been writing for as long as I could remember, diaries and journals when I was younger, then stories and eventually novels. I assumed once I got good enough someone would publish me and I could quit my day job and write full time, but that hadn’t happened yet. Clearly I wasn’t good enough. Perhaps I never would be. I constantly questioned when I should give it up, though the thought of not writing anymore was on par with going blind.

I write because I love to, I told him.

He smiled. Good answer, he said. The question is not if you’re any good, but if you love the process of writing. Published or not, keep writing as long as you love doing it.

And so I have. I still get disheartened, every other day it seems I’m back to black, trying to talk myself into making my day job my career. Even though I’m publishing now there isn’t any money in it. Yet. Hope springs eternal. Good or not, published or not I keep writing though, because I love to write.

Thanks Ray.

  • So, why do you write?

REVERB, Jeri Cafesin, Available now.

Music was all he needed  music and then the music was gone.

James Michael Whren is brilliant, beautiful, wealthy, and taken with himself, or more precisely, his genius for creating music. The object of desire for many, his greatest passion is for his muse.

But on the evening after his brother's funeral, his father turns his life upside down, and James is left abandoned in hell with no one to save him.

He finally escapes, and on his run for freedom he's forced to confront the man he was as he seeks asylum from old friends and ex-lovers. Humbled and almost defeated, he finds refuge on a small Greek island. But with solitude comes madness

Then he meets Elisabeth.

Reverb is a story of redemption, and follows one man's extraordinary journey of emotional growth through his discovery of his capacity to love. EXCERPT
MY REVIEW of Reverb 

J. Cafesin is an L.A. native, born and raised on the Valley side of the Hollywood Hills, among the TV and movie studios. Creativity abound and inspired growing up with the kids of producers, directors and screenwriters living in the quiet suburb. 

Journals were kept under the bed or close at hand to scribble prose, lyrics, or manic rants, but art and illustration were the focus during the early years. A BA in Advertising Design, and three years as an Art Director in corporate servitude pushed her from the proverbial window and into freelance as a floater for CBS, NBC, and movie studios from Transworld Entertainment to Lucas Films Ltd. Attending UCLA film school at night, she finished her first screenplay before quitting their program to escape the wild and crazy Hollywood scene, and moved to the San Francisco area to focus on corporate and literary writing.

Now a freelance writer of fiction, essay and copy in the Bay Area, J. Cafesin is currently working on her second contemporary romance; a YA series of short fables; and adapting her Sci-Fi screenplay into a third novel. Her articles are featured regularly in local and national print publications. Essays on her ongoing blogspot have been translated into multiple languages and distributed globally:

J. Cafesin resides on the eastern slope of the redwood laden Oakland Hills with her husband/best friend, two gorgeous, talented, spectacular kids, and a bratty but cute pound-hound Shepherd-mix.

You can find her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Blog

Monday, September 12, 2011

MONDAY MUSINGS: In Need Of Amusement

My sense of ridiculous is easily amused these days. I’m basically stuck indoors. I can’t watch the antics of puppies—don’t have any—which is a good thing considering my health and weather. No teen angst to filter since he’s elsewhere this weekend and can’t amuse me with silly tales of tragedy and comedy, otherwise known as his friend’s life choices. Shame I don’t write YA. I have enough plots to write a library of books. And I thought adults had screwed up love lives.

I’m reduced to finding my amusements elsewhere. Today it was sorting through my junk mail folder. Aside from half the African nation sending me emails starting with the word Dearest, and can I trust you (you’re kidding, right?) or urgent response needed in a business matter (which I take to mean rapid delete), I have people confused with regard to my gender. I mean, really, you’re new in town and lonely and want to chat with a hot GUY like me… about life? (read sex here). Last time I checked my email wasn’t listed with any sites as a *hot guy* looking for an easy chick.

Then there is the whole confusion about Viagra. I really have the wrong equipment to be flaccid and I don’t need directions for personal Viagra usage. The closest I’m going to get to rock hard is when I hold Olivia Cunning’s book in my hands.

Sigh...Well, at least the African nation knows I’m a woman.
I need a fresh source of amusement. Grab a cuppa and have a seat... 


What’s been amusing you of late?
Seen any good movies? Read any good books?
Have any good news?