On a scale of one to ten, the difficulties that I have coming up with things to blog about land somewhere around the eleven mark. In all honesty, I’m boring as hell and anything I want to say about my novels, I write into them. So I do what I always do when I’m at a loss about something writing related – I harass my friends until one of them offers up a suggestion. Thankfully, I am offered this prompt:
“Sonata is very special in a way, as you write about a social problem. You did so in a way with Honour and Înflori, but this is very sensitive. How did you approach such a story? What do you have to keep in mind when you write about a matter like this?”
“Have to” is one of those phrases that instantly rile me. See, in society, there are few places a person’s mind can wander unfettered and untaxed. But the meadow of fiction is one of them. So while I do understand that a novel should have plausibility and show a degree of research, I write far more for the seeding of the soul than the benefit of the mind. While the processes of writing etiquette can’t be ignored, I admit wholeheartedly that I keep a firm grip on my creative license and will present it without question for the sake of romantic fulfillment.
As such, the “have to” list of my creative process is relatively short. There are actually only three concrete concepts I keep in mind when writing, and Sonata has been no exception. Let me explain (and offer a couple of quick excerpts from Sonata to back them up):
Sanctity of Spirituality
Please, don’t roll your eyes – I promise that I am no fanatic of the spiritual. I do, however, have a respect for Karma, an awareness of Universal Intervention, a desire to maintain balance, and I will happily recite the mantra that a person has the right to live their life happy and in peace, regardless of choice or destiny, as long as they aren’t hurting anyone else in the process. It’s no coincidence that I have yet to write a character that hasn’t felt the cold slap of Karma or heard the insistent sigh of the Universe as it attempts to say, “No, this way, ‘ya knucklehead.”
“Who can say what the universe’s plans are for you tonight? Perhaps there’s a need for you to be holding the gift of love at first sight in your fingers, hmm?”
Respect to Reality
Men rage; they also cry. They hurt one another and tend guilt because of it. They love, as fiercely and passionately as they war, and I write them as flawed and as beautiful as they exist in real life. While I may gently remould the intricacies—politically, socially, fantastically, or legally—I want a story that depicts an environment where credible characters can deal with realistic, emotional issues and come to believable, but romantically beneficial reconciliations.
Jordan shut him down with a look of distaste. “I don’t want to talk about fate. That kind of thinking is for the weak-minded. It wasn’t fate that brought you and me together. It was your hard dick and my need to get laid. That’s it. That’s all it was supposed to be, that’s all it was, and that’s all it will be. Get it?”
Ian didn’t let on that Jordan’s words cut him like Jordan had just taken a scythe to his mid-section. “I got it.”
Fulfillment of Self
As much as I enjoy praise and admiration, as grateful as I am for commentary or kudos, I write for my own fulfillment. I write to wrestle with the demons that corrupt me and to offer praise to the angels that assist me because that is the only way that I know how to appease them. I write because romance rekindles my faith in humanity and inspires me to keep slogging through the mundane. Every other “have to” along the way isn’t really a requirement at all. The research and the caution, the marketability and the potential are all so very secondary that they are relegated to the level of “I’ll consider.” I write because I need to sustain my belief that love is absolute and connection is real.
“This is what you do to me,” Ian wanted to say. “How perfect you are, how perfect you feel, this is why it’s so hard to think right when I’m with you.” Instead he leaned over Jordan’s back, rested his lips on Jordan’s shoulder blade, moved his fist in time with his hips and whispered, “Damn, Jordan. You’re fucking beautiful.”
by A.F. Henley
M/M Contemporary Erotic Romance
At thirty-six Ian feels done with the world. When a night at a bar goes as poorly as expected, he wants only to return home to be miserable in peace. Instead, he encounters Jordan. Hot, young and interested, Jordan is everything Ian’s ever wanted and nothing he believes himself capable of actually obtaining.
Jordan has enough going on in his life trying to scrape together a living for himself and his autistic son. When he meets Ian, all he wants is a brief, erotic moment and nothing else.
But fate throws them together again and again, and Ian finds himself determined to do whatever it takes to give their story a happy ending – no matter what secrets Jordan’s past has waiting for him.
Purchase Sonata here
And so we reach the end of the blog tour, and a final chance to win. I thank everyone that’s followed along and supported this release, even if this is your fist visit so far. In appreciation for your time:
Win an ebook copy of Sonata:
Do you have any concrete resolutions when it comes to your own creative outlets? Why do you do what you do and how does that effect the results? I’d love to hear from you … All commenters will be entered in a randomly chosen draw for a copy of Sonata, in the electronic format of their choice. Contest will close at midnight on July 26th. Winner has 48 hours to respond.
Here’s to keeping our eyes on the sky and a symphony in our hearts.
Thanks for reading.
A.F. Henley ❤