Today, when I crawled out of bed, I was the author of several short stories and novellas in both print and electronic format published by small-but-growing presses that either didn’t yet meet RWA’s criteria for publisher recognition or had no interest in applying for said recognition. And I was okay with that. My sales were up, my royalty checks getting bigger each quarter, and I had a growing and supportive readership.

When I crawl back into bed tonight, some sixteen hours later, I will be a “vanity/subsidy pubbed,” as per the new RWA defintion.

“3. The Board updated the definition of Subsidy Publisher or Vanity Publisher to: any publisher that publishes books in which the author participates in the cost of production or distribution in any manner, including publisher assessment of a fee or other costs for editing and/or distribution. This definition includes publishers who withhold or seek full or partial payment of reimbursement of publication or distribution costs before paying royalties, including payment of paper, printing, binding, production, sales or marketing costs; publishers whose authors exclusively promote and/or sell their own books; publishers whose primary means of offering books for sale is through a publisher-generated Web site; publishers whose list is comprised of 50% or more of its books written by authors who are principals in the publishing company; and publishers whose business model and methods of publishing are primarily directed toward sales to the author, his/her relatives and associates.”

Note, please, the highlighted sections.

Now, let me be clear: I understand that after the Triskelion bloodbath, they had to do something. I’m even okay with the new “thousand dollar advance for a novel, five hundred dollar advance for a novella” requirement. It’ll cut out a lot of small presses and epubs, but you know what? It’s their organization — no longer MINE, most assuredly — and they can recognize who and whatever they want to recognize.

But where do they get off changing the definition of “subsidy/vanity publisher” to meet their own ends? Last time I checked, “vanity/subsidy publisher” meant publishers who require their authors to pay for some part of the publishing process. The Board of Directors, in one ugly little fit of “throw the baby out with the bathwater,” have attempted to marginalize multiple small but legitimate companies and thereby have marginalized hundreds of their own members who are published with these companies.

And they wonder why the RWA is becoming less and less relevant with each passing year.

If I’d bothered to send my membership dues in April, I’d be sorely regretting it now. As it is, the RWA can bite my “vanity pubbed” ass. Both cheeks. Make a meal of it, why don’tcha? Not another penny of my money, not another second of my time.

It’s almost enough to make you miss Tara Taylor Quinn.

Oh, shut up. I said “almost.”

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue

Sunday, 7/8: 2041 words.
Monday, 7/9: 2055 words.
Tuesday, 7/10: 1609 words. Dammit. Four hundred short.
Wednesday, 7/11: Well, it’s only nine in the morning, and I have to make up those missing four hundred first, don’t I? Dammit. And I should warm up first. Wouldn’t want to pull a groin muscle. :p

ETA: Check out the insightful and fabulous Smart Bitches review of Adios to My Old Life by my brilliant and stylish crit partner, Barbara Caridad Ferrer. Now it’s onward to the Ritas, and after that? Total world domination. You heard it here.

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue

So I signed up to do Alison Kent’s “Seventy Days of Sweat” writing challenge. Read about it here.

I need motivation like this. Someone — or something — to beat me about the head and shoulders so I don’t end up writing the last three chapters of both my summer projects five days before their respective due dates.

This is what I’m working on:

First one:
1) Title: Seven Year Ache
2) Hero Name/Occupation: Jamie Crosby/dude ranch owner.
3) Hero Name/Occupation: Rafe McCaffrey/failed country music singer/ranch hand. Yes, this novella has two heroes and no heroine. You do the math.
4) Setting: ranch outside Kalispell, Montana.
5) Length: 5K words down, 25-35K words to go.

Second one:
1) Working Title: Cinderella Blue
2) Hero Name/Occupation: Ty Samuel/casino owner
3) Heroine Name/Occupation: Joni Pruitt/writer
4) Setting: small town in Nevada
5) Length: 25-35K

It’s too easy for me to spend the dewy hours of early morning puttering among my petunias, and the humid hours of early afternoon napping in the air-conditioned confines of my king-sized bed. But no more! Two thousand words a day or bust (which will give me time and room to work on the novel-length project I keep avoiding by taking on shorter projects). And anyone who wants to can come around and slap me silly if I give in to my baser nature and fall behind. I’m sick of not having enough time to do a final proofread, much less a decent revision pass. It’s stupid, unprofessional, and morally wrong. My editor and readers deserve better. Hell, the stories themselves deserve better.

Besides, there’s prizes. We LIKE prizes.

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue

“…and that’s when the chasm opened at her feet and sucked her into the fiery pits of hell, where she’ll burn in unending agony forevermore. The end.”

Yes, it’s true. I’ve crossed the line. Been lured, as my beloved and esteemed crit partner Barbara Caridad “Double Rita Finalist” Ferrer puts it, to The Dark Side. Phaze has released my very first M/M erotic romance, HARDCORE, as part of the Phaze FANTASIES III collection.

The Blurb (for the entire antho):

MASK by James Buchanan: Don Hecto Luz Aritza and his mayordomo y compañero Martín have been lovers since they were boys. Now that the Don is to wed a Frenchwoman, Martín must use magic and love to fight of the woman who wants to tear the lovers apart. Set in Colonial Mexico, Mask weaves the mysticism, suppression and magic of legends of the old southwest into a tale of two men who must fight to be together.

DEVOTION by Jade Falconer: Marcus was Prince Wilhelm’s personal slave. The prince desires his lovely slave, and they share a bed every night. Their love transcends all convention; but when a new slave, Frederic, threatens their idyllic existence, will their love prevail? Or will misunderstanding forever tear them apart?

DRAGON’S FATE by Eliza Gayle: (details unavailable at this time)

HEADS OR TAILS by Jamie Hill: Jeff Roberts’ life is all planned out for him. He’s engaged to the boss’s daughter, and eventually he’ll run the construction/real estate company he works for. It’s going to be the perfect life. When Kurt Lacey joins the construction crew, Jeff is suddenly fighting urges he’d forced himself to repress. There were male lovers in his past, but deciding that wasn’t what he wanted, Jeff proceeded to ‘go straight’. Kurt has other ideas, and one night together has Jeff rethinking his life. Does he want to be secure, responsible and boring? Wild, exciting and nontraditional seems like lots more fun. It all comes down to the flip of a coin—and whether Jeff chooses Heads or Tails.

HARDCORE by Selah March: Disgraced police officer and reluctant empath Jesse Bonham is a man with a mission — eliminate the thug that ruined his life. Student and part-time bartender Sean Carr wants no part of Jesse’s vendetta, no matter how hot he finds the ex-cop. When Jesse kidnaps Sean to use as bait, they discover the meaning of “out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

BEHIND THE BEARD by Yeva Wiest: Madly in lust, handsome young counselor Byron Jones hides his secret self. The object of his attraction: Lord Richard Kincade, the Queen’s most sought after barrister. With the help of two conniving old codgers, a mischievous miss, and some six-legged buggers, Byron “wigs out” to capture the heart of Lord Kincade. This story proves the bell of the ball just might be a beau, but everything depends on who is really hiding behind the beard.

***

An Excerpt from Chapter 6 of HARDCORE:

He was positioned between the bed and the bathroom door when Jesse emerged, clutching a towel around his hips.

“Stop. Don’t move.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. In a way that looked almost like a reflex, a smirk curled the corner of his mouth.

Before he could say anything, Sean spoke again. “You’ll notice the safety’s off this time. You really shouldn’t've underestimated me, you know?”

He watched Jesse’s throat work as he swallowed. “Sean—”

“Shut up. Drop the towel and get on the bed.” It wasn’t easy to keep his voice and the gun steady at the same time. “On your stomach.”

Jesse’s brow crumpled in a look that screamed “confusion.” Like a swimmer pulled out too far by a riptide and unsure for the first few seconds exactly what’s happening. “What’re you planning to—”

“I said shut up. Drop the towel. Get on the bed.” Sean stepped forward and motioned with the muzzle of the .45. “Do it now.”

Jesse hesitated another second, then moved in the direction Sean indicated, to the bed on the other side of the room. Sean stayed close to him, but not too close, in case he decided to pull some tricky move out of a ninja movie.

Sean watched as he dropped the towel at the last possible second, but stopped before actually stretching out on the bed. “I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but if it’s what I think—”

“Oh, I think we’re on the same page. Down on your stomach, and grab the headboard.”
Jesse’s eyes flickered once, a glint of golden-hazel from beneath long, thick lashes. Then he did as he was told. Sean almost let himself be surprised. He never thought it would be this easy.

He pulled the handcuffs from his pocket. Now came the hard part—cuffing Jesse to the bed without fumbling the gun. Sean could hear his heart pounding in his ears. If he screwed this up…let Jesse get the better of him one more time…

Again, it turned out easier than he anticipated. Jesse lay with his head on one of the two pillows, his face turned away from Sean. There was tension in every curve and plane of his body—every muscle appeared coiled and ready to spring. But he stayed still, his hands fisted around the spindles of the headboard, knuckles white with the effort. Sean slid a cuff on one wrist, wove the second one between the headboard and the wall, and slipped it onto the other wrist. With each metallic click, Jesse’s body jerked. />
Sean cleared his throat. “This bed’s pretty cheap-looking. You can probably break it if you try.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. Maybe just to have something to say.

Jesse turned his head on the pillow. Sean saw how the contours of his face matched the tortured lines of his body. He set the gun on the bedside table, and settled his hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

The transformation wasn’t immediate. It took a good ten seconds for Jesse to relax—for his brow to unknot, for the muscles in his back and ass and legs to let go of what looked like their involuntary clench. Sean watched it all, amazed at how just the single touch of his hand seemed to be enough to communicate what he intended.

Which was no kind of harm. He didn’t play that way, any more than Jesse apparently did. Not ever.

He leaned over to speak into Jesse’s ear. “I know you want this. You can pretend later that you didn’t, if it makes you feel better…but I know. I could tell the moment I met you. The second I saw you.”

Jesse made a noise—not quite a groan, not quite a sigh. Like honey poured over a bowl of gravel. It went straight to Sean’s cock, the sudden redirection of blood flow nearly knocking him sideways off the bed.

He waited and watched Jesse’s face. The older man didn’t look at him, but he nodded. Once. Quick and easy to miss, but then he lifted his gaze to meet Sean’s, and the yes was right there.

“Good,” Sean whispered, and leaned in further to kiss him. Jesse twisted his head to meet him, his lips parting easy to let him inside. It was sweet like nothing Sean had ever tasted—the flavor of Jesse giving in.

***

Those of you who read and enjoyed FLESH AND BONE, my novella in the FORTUNE’S FOOL anthology released by Phaze in May, might be interested to know that HARDCORE is set in the same “world” — the North Bay Area outside San Francisco and within a family in which inherited psychic ability is rampant.

My second M/M release — this one a contemporary Western titled SEVEN YEAR ACHE — is in the works, slated to be released by the new Allure imprint of Amber Quill Press in the Fall, and thereby cementing my place on The Dark Side forever. But never fear, fans of “het” romance. I’m working on an entry for the Kensington Brava contest, plus I’ll be announcing a contract for a novella featuring the boy/girl lovin’ with a brand new-to-me publisher before the end of the month.

In the meantime, don’t bother praying for my poor, damned soul. I’m rather enjoying the view from down here. For example, what they say about those Scottish lads and what they don’t wear beneath their kilts? All true. Yowza.

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue