Dear Me, circa 1993

"ARGHH! What is this monstrous thing???"

Dear Anya:

RUN!

Nah, only kidding. Sort of…

So, this is me/you, talking to myself/you from 2013. Yeah, you do last that long, but your ass is starting to go south for the winter, so my first piece of advice is start exercising from now. That ass is going to be in a chair a hell of a lot more than you’re used to over the next years and you’re going to run the risk of getting the writer’s equivalent of a cop’s cruiser butt. If you start working on that now, I’ll appreciate it a hell of a lot.

My next piece of advice—listen to a lot less advice. You’ll be getting it from ALL. OVER. THE. PLACE. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t take it. Everybody has their own path to wherever the heck it is they’re going. Find your own. Stick with it. This is also something I’d appreciate you getting on right away, because if you don’t, we’re gonna waste a lot of time. ’Kay? Thanx.

My next piece of advice is something I didn’t know I’d have to work on and I’m still working on, so, again, if you could just get a jump on it, that would be awesome. Get over that shyness. Forget the dream of being the hermit author in the spooky mansion on the hill who only has to write the book, package it in brown paper, post it off and then write the next book. That no longer exists. There’s this thing coming, called social media, and you’re gonna be afraid…very afraid. But you’re going to have to get over it. Put yourself out there a little. You won’t regret it.

Lastly—Have a little more faith in yourself and your abilities. Re-think selling your soul for that student loan, wasting all that time and money to do something you really aren’t going to be able to use the way you intended. Instead, devote that time to honing your craft and getting ahead. Selling jewellery isn’t that bad. It’ll keep paying the bills while you work at what you really want to do, which is write.

You know you want it, so go for it. That’s the best advice I can give you.

Some Like it Hot... And I'm One of Them

If I could be anywhere, I’d be somewhere tropical...

Right.

Now.

I’d have a nice place—not fancy, just nice and cozy—and I’d have it set up as a writer’s retreat. It would be a spot where authors, whether published or unpublished, could come for peace and quiet, the chance to rejuvenate and create. The view might be like this:

Or like this:

But for me, if it were somewhere about five or six o’clock (somewhere) it just might look like this:

You’ll all be welcome when I get it going, okay?

And if you enjoy some tropical heat, check out my oldie but goodie, Night of the Cereus, which is set in steamy South Florida and has a HOT Latino hero. 

Blurb:

On the night the Cereus blooms, temptation paints a picture impossible to resist.

Artist’s model Melanie Fletcher likes to keep life simple, and painter Marcus Alejandro practically oozes complications. And sex appeal.

Posing for him, surrounded by the seductive scent of the night-blooming Cereus, Melanie’s self-imposed rules of a lifetime are slowly being undermined. She begins to wonder—would it really hurt to give in to her lust, just this once?

Initially drawn to the dichotomy between Melanie’s reserved exterior and hidden passion, Marcus soon discovers the more he gets from her, the more he wants. Her delicious body isn’t enough. He needs to know her intimately, both inside and out, but getting her to trust him is harder than he ever imagined.

How much can he ask for before she walks away?