So…in honor of my first solo release, Emery's Ritches…I've decided to celebrate by talking to some very talented authors about their first solo release! *giggles* You see…it isn't all about me all the time…but I do love weaseling my way into the action most of the time…hehe
Today I have a treat for all of you...I not only have an extremely handsome man on my blog *swoons and fans face*...he happens to be a bestselling author and extremely great human being. No seriously...when I begged him to come to me and talk about his virgin release he didn't hesitate to sit at attention and take me up on my offer! Oh yeah...I gots it like that *bats lashes and giggles*
Oh...you wanna know who I'm talking about? *heads desk* Yeah, I guess I can't keep him all to myself forever...can I? *shakes head* No...no I can't...so without further babbling...let me introduce you to the smart and sexy Eric Arvin! *fist pumps while making unrecognizable sounds with my mouth...stops...blushes* Sorry...Eric is here to talk to us about his first release with Dreamspinner Press—Slight Details & Random Events. *big smiles*
So, let's start this off with how you popped your cherry with Slight Details & Random Events...tell us about your first ever Dreamspinner release…oh man that has a naughty/nice ring to it...*blushes*…
Technically, my first release avec Dreamspinner was in their anthology collection Mr. Right Now. But my first solo effort was the aforementioned Slight Details & Random Events. Basically, it’s two novellas wrapped up in the warm, gooey goodness of short stories, poetry and even a few illustrations by my friend HVH. There be romance! There be erotica! There be comedy and drama, the fantastical and the tragic! There be lots of naughty bits and lots of heart!
What made you decide to do a book of short stories as your first release—was that a little risky in your opinion?
It was risky. Still is. Anthologies are not big sellers. After my short story “Deacon Decides” in Mr. Right Now impressed, though, I was asked to collect the other shorts I had written and compile them into a book. How could I resist? They liked me! They really liked me! And now they’re STUCK with me!!
Why did you choose Dreamspinner Press to publish this book of yours…was there something special there or just fate?
As stated above, they chose me. It was fate! By that point I had two books out already – The Rest Is Illusion and Subsurdity - and was looking for a good publisher. I was lucky enough to find them as they were just getting off the ground. What they were doing on the ground is anyone’s guess.
I love this title—Slight Details & Random Events—it is catchy and in a way it seems telling...does this book of shorts live up to its name in your opinion?
Why, thank you! The title of the anthology is actually the original title of the Gael/Cat novella therein. Those stories are the best chapters from a book I wrote years ago that – as a whole – didn’t quite work. When separated into short stories, however – random events – they work very well.
Okay…about me for a second *big smiles*…I'm personally going through some withdrawal anxieties with my boys—I was told I had to cut them loose and let them out into the big world without me to protect them *gasps*… did you have any withdrawal pains when you sent all of your boys out there in the big bad world?
Not really. Short stories are different, in that you don’t feel as connected to the characters in them as you do with those in a novel. At least, I don’t. Now, my novels Woke Up in a Strange Place and the woefully mistreated Galley Proof – yes, definite withdrawal. I feel like a protective parent with them.
Looking back—now that you have more experience under your belt—would you change anything about Slight Details & Random Events or your way of handling its release?
I had no real concept of promotion back then. That would definitely be amped up. There are also one or two tales I would most certainly exclude from the anthology and replace them with others that are much stronger. There is one short called “Butterfly Tattoo”, for example, that’s basically me waxing poetic about someone I knew in college. It’s embarrassing.
If you had to turn your virgin experience of publishing your book into an erotic novel what would you title it?
Naughty Bits & Muscle Tits.
What color would you label your first foray in publishing your book and why?
Interesting. I'd say Green.
Now...I usually do a quickie round with the main characters...but I'm thinking with an anthology of short stories that could get confusing...so lets you and me have a quickie! *clears throat and looks at the noisy guy in the back* Yes...yes I have been waiting for a chance to say that...now be nice...*winks and motions to call him later*
Boxer or briefs... Boxers…unless the briefs are really sexy
Chocolate or vanilla... Chocolate, dark chocolate
Wine or top shelf... Wine
Moaner or screamer... Screamer
Creamy or crunchy *eye roll* peanut butter lol... Crunchy
Leather or denim... Denim
Pajamas or no... No
Favorite toy... Music player
Top or bottom... Depends on who gots the bigger booty. The Bigger booty bottoms. I have this fantasy that ALL bodybuilders are screaming bottoms.
And now for my favorite part! *cuddles up next to Eric...puts his arm around me...smiles big* Eric promised to read to us tonight...and just to set the mood I've got candlelight and some wine. *bats lashes up at Eric and sighs* I'm all yours...
A collection of short stories from one of today's most talented and challenging new writers. Eric Arvin covers everything from college love to mystical river sprites, from deep tragedy to bawdy sex comedy, in this collection that takes the everyday and finds the adventure within. It's a read sure to keep you guessing.
You can find Slight Details & Random Events @ Dreamspinner Press (e-book), Dreamspinner Press (print), Amazon & All Romance e-books (ARe)
Gordy Helps Out
The weight room smelled like men at Harry’s House of Fitness. That’s not to say it stank; it just had that scent that men naturally exude, like salt and dampness. Some would call it intoxicating.
Four young men, cocky regulars, strutted about as if they owned the free weight area. They were good-looking and fit, adamant about looking like their steroid-enhanced idols in the muscle mags they bought on a weekly basis. They talked and acted as if they were already on level with the great muscle beasts, at least in the gym, at least around one another. They flexed and posed for the admiring girls who watched from a safe distance at the cables or the Body Solid machines. They were the kings of the weight room, so they thought, as young men of their age are often prone think. They were certainly louder which to them meant exceptionally more committed to fitness. There were other men in the gym, other big men. But they were older men. At least in their late 30s, and while they were impressive. they didn’t strut, they didn’t preen. To the four, this meant they weren’t as focused. The foursome pitied the older muscle dudes. The older muscle dudes tolerated the foursome.
The leader of the four, it seemed, was a young buffer named Jerry. Jerry liked to talk trash. If anyone threatened his dominance, he made it known he was none too happy. He was the largest of the four, the most muscular. Nice 18 inch biceps were flexed continuously since the time he would walk in to the weight room to the time he would walk out.
“Man, I had this chick last night,” he was saying to his three brethren, “she wanted it bad. Nice tits and one hell of an ass. Damn!”
The guys whooped in appreciation. They had stories of their own to tell. Stories, mind you.
“Did you give it to her?”
“I bet you nailed her good!”
“Oh, I gave it to her alright! Up the ass first. Damn, it was hot! She kept screaming ‘More! More! Harder!’” There his voice took on the caricature of a woman. “I gave her more. I tired her out, man. I tire all the ladies out.”
Jerry noticed the guys had suddenly stopped listening to him. Their attention, indeed, the attention of everyone in the gym, was focused now on something else.
Into the weight room, barefoot, shirtless, massive, and innocently smiling, strode something neither Jerry nor his comrades had seen before at their gym. This ‘something’s’ name was Gordy. Gordy was larger than any bodybuilder they had ever seen, but he was not beaten-looking. He didn’t look bloated from steroid use. The guy looked completely natural, but that had to be an impossibility. All four of the guys’ jaws dropped unwittingly.
Gordy wore but a tiny pair of green running shorts that stretched tight across his thighs, revealing a nice bulge in the crotch. Sighs were escaping from patrons all around him as he walked past. This was his first day trying out Harry’s House of Fitness, and he was excited. He had had to leave numerous other gyms in the past year and he hoped this one would actually work out.
Gordy was gorgeous. No two ways about it…but a couple of three ways went through people’s minds when they saw him. He was also very sweet. The sweetest man in the world, by some accounts. But he wasn’t too bright. That was a muscle stereotype that unfortunately applied to Gordy.
Jerry and his crew noticed (once they were able to avert their eyes from the Herculean-sized Adonis) that everyone who could see Gordy in the gym was flustered, swooning. Most notably, the women who Jerry and his friends always strutted for, were now totally oblivious to their presence and drawn to this new mountain of muscle. Jerry, of course, got very jealous.
Gordy went to the dumbbells, parting the foursome, nodding pleasantly at them. They forgot to nod back. There wasn’t room for a nod with all that muscle in the area. Gordy did 50 lb dumbbell curls as a warm-up. One of Jerry’s friends gasped. As he did his set, Gordy’s tight shorts constricted the two mounds of muscle ass so tight that it looked as if he were carrying two large melons in his shorts.
Jerry was getting more jealous. His own ass had always been the best in the gym. The girls had always told him so.
Filled with discontent, Jerry walked to the cables, intent on doing cable rope extensions until Gordy left the free weight area. He couldn’t compete with that. Even the gay guys at the gym, whom Jerry never really associated with, would be drawn to Gordy. And while Jerry didn’t want to have sex with another man, he wanted to keep their attention. But again, with an ass like that, how could he compete?
“Why am I thinking about his ass?” he chided himself as he leaned over to get the rope that was lying under a weighted barbell.
The rope, however, was caught. Jerry could not get it out from under the barbell without lifting the weights. But the weight added on was too much, even for him. He thought for a mili-second about asking Gordy, but would not be able to stand the mocking eyes of his friends. So, he decided instead to remove the collars, then whittle the weight down to a manageable size. He could then lift the barbell off the rope himself. Of course, it never occurred to Jerry to just do another exercise. He was stubborn and set and distracted.
Jerry twisted and pulled, but the collars would not give. He tried again, but they wouldn’t so much as budge an inch. At this, he began to get angry at every person in the gym, even though none of them aside from Gordy could have possibly used the heavy problem-causing barbell.
“Can I help?”
Jerry looked up to see Gordy standing a few feet away, his face pleasant and grinning. Jerry’s three friends watched, still awestruck from behind. One of them kept staring at Gordy’s ass. Was he gay? Jerry had nothing against gay guys, but it would be weird for him if one of his friends, his workout buddies, was gay. They had all seen him naked, watched him pose naked.
“Why did we pose naked?” he asked himself.
“With the weights,” Gordy reiterated. “Do you need any help?” His voice was nice and calm. Not the harsh, heavy affectation of most gym rats and bodybuilders.
Before Jerry could say no, Gordy cast his considerable shadow over where Jerry stood, and bent over to take a look at the collars on the barbell. Making room for Gordy’s mass, Jerry had been forced to position himself directly behind the new musclegod. When Gordy bent over to work on the collars he incidentally pushed Jerry against the mirrored wall with his massive bum.
Jerry’s friends expressions changed to faces of shock and some excitement, but Jerry wasn’t watching them. He was busy trying to quell the rising feeling of his own confusing excitement down below. The little green shorts holding the big, big melons began to flex and rub Jerry’s crotch as Gordy twisted and turned the collar on the barbell. Gordy grunted in labor as he worked, and this only added to Jerry’s horrific predicament. His dick became harder and harder as Gordy’s ass massaged him.
Pressure, release, pressure, release. Grunt.
Every so often Gordy would shift in his stance and this would enhance the unwanted pleasure Jerry was feeling. Gordy’s ass began to rub Jerry faster and harder as the monster loosened the collars.
At last, Jerry couldn’t control himself any longer. The huge mounds of greenclad ass were now the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He grabbed them, pushing into Gordy with force. But Gordy merely thought Jerry was trying to help. He encouraged him.
“You got it, buddy! That’s it!”
Jerry came just as Gordy rose to an upright position.
“That should do it!” Gordy exclaimed.
Jerry gasped and moaned, barely able to stand against the wall. “Th-thanks.”
“Not a problem,” Gordy said, walking away.
Across the weight room Jerry saw his friends, seated now, knees close together, hands over their crotches. From the looks on their faces he knew he was safe.
They would never, ever talk about this. EVER.