Sign-ups for my Indie Author Spotlight are open to every kind of author! We recently featured the poetry of DAJ 2020, and today we’re dipping into a surreal visual novel by the creator Ultra Trash Dog. This is an ongoing web serial with multiple storylines and some truly strange vibes, but hey, maybe you’re into that sort of thing (I know I am.)
Nice to meet you! I’m ultratrashdog and I’m a solo game developer. I write, draw, code and make music. I’m the author of Psych Ward In The Sky, an online yaoi visual novel with a very silly transmasc MC Senj.
This MM romance is a slice of life: sci-fi/fantasy, with trans representation, kinky erotica, horror, drama… It’s wholesome and silly, but also contains material that may be disturbing. It’s raw and has some sharp edges, and touches a few disturbing topics.
Sports romance is having a moment right now thanks to the Crave series Heated Rivalry, based on the book by fellow Canadian author Rachel Reid. But hockey’s not the only game in town (see what I did there?) Baseball has its own rituals, its own heroes, and a lot of tight pants and hands on crotches, just saying…
ALL BATS ARE OFF is a spicy MM novella (25k+ words) set in the Rose City Roasters universe. This one night stand-to-lovers romance between a thicc (with two c’s) bisexual baseball player who loves bread almost as much as blowjobs, and a gay, long-haired sports journalist with a pierced peen, features drag queen Bingo, braiding hair as a love language, county fair food porn, hotel bathtub hook-ups, and an almost entirely LGBTQIA+ cast of characters.
From the author’s bio:
By day, Kelly Reynolds works primarily as a freelance writer, professor, and author’s assistant. By night, she hosts the comedic romance novel review podcast, Boobies & Noobies. Since receiving her MFA in Screenwriting in 2016, she’s worked with several casting, development, and production companies and contributed to programs appearing on such networks as MTV, ABC, Hallmark, GSN and Netflix. Originally hailing from the San Francisco Bay Area, she currently lives in Portland, Oregon and spends the bulk of her time dreaming up sexy romcoms about fierce, fat girls falling in love.
Like a lot of authors, I try not to read too many reviews of my work. Reader opinions are wildly subjective, and what one reader might think of as a spicy little romance is to another reader smut-fueled trash (but they mean it as a compliment.) I have caught myself calling certain books “sweet” even though they contain corpses, betrayals, panic, trauma, and someone getting seriously blown up. YMMV.
But sometimes you actually ask for feedback, and I will hang my hat on this particular bit, because what do you mean I made you binge my book???
Heather runs one of the best queer romance blogs around and is the convener of the Northern Rainbow Readers & Writers event in Toronto. She’s a huge booster of MM and other types of queer romance, so much that I did in fact thank her in the acknowledgements for The Single Life.
And honestly, I needed this review. This year has kicked the crap out of me so it’s nice to know that my writing is connecting with people. Maybe there’s hope for me yet…
Surely we’re not scared of a little infection, right?
If you like some chills with your thrills and some panic in your plots, C.G. Macington has you covered with this thrilling story that will have you on the edge of your seat (or maybe hiding under the blankets!) But sometimes love thrives under pressure…
One doctor saves lives from behind a screen. The other saves them with his hands. When the world ends, they are each other’s only hope.
Dr. Felix Müller trusts his gut, and his gut tells him the horrifying new illness tearing through his Hamburg ER is no ordinary flu. When his superiors ignore the mounting body count, Felix risks his career on a single, desperate email to a reclusive, brilliant epidemiologist who is his last resort.
Dr. Erik Lindqvist trusts in data, not gut feelings. For the reclusive scientist, emotions are a liability. He arrives in Hamburg expecting to correct a flawed analysis, but instead finds a city on the brink of collapse and a frontline doctor whose fiery compassion threatens to shatter the walls around his heart.
Forced into an uneasy alliance, the two men are the city’s first and last line of defense. But as the virus consumes Hamburg and military law is declared, their professional friction ignites into a desperate and dangerous intimacy. In the quiet moments between disasters, they find a connection that could be their only comfort—or a fatal distraction.
As the death toll climbs and the city is sealed from the world, they are in a desperate race for a cure. But the greatest threat might not be the evolving pathogen—it could be the terrifying choices they are forced to make about how much they are willing to sacrifice… and who.
Outbreak Protocol is a gut-wrenching, epic MM romance set against the backdrop of an apocalyptic medical thriller. A perfect story of opposites attract, hurt/comfort, and the found family that can rise from the ashes of the world. Prepare to have your heart seized.
From the author’s bio:
C.G. Macington is a passionate storyteller from Edmonton, Canada. Specialising in heartwarming gay romance, C.G. explores love, identity, and courage, celebrating the nuances of queer life. With a background in arts and creative writing, he crafts narratives that resonate deeply with readers. When not writing, C.G. enjoys reading and spending time with his partner of eleven years.
Though I’ve been swapping mentions with authors since I started my readers club newsletter (one of the best ways to start building subscribers) I only started the Spotlight earlier this year. Kashel Char was my first author, and I’m always intrigued with their daring approach to science fiction and romance and the ways these can intersect. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, but I could kind of go for being a blue-skinned alien’s intergalactic mate. Seems like I’d have to do a lot less laundry.
Kidding aside, indie authors are the vanguard of the publishing industry and I will not be taking questions, you can just take that as a fact. No one is more inventive, daring, or diverse, and I love that for us.
From the author’s bio:
I am a Canadian speculative fiction author, writing in the genres of science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal.
My writing explores who we are, where we come from, and where we are going as a human race on Earth.
I enjoy weaving and exploring questions and subjects about our history and origin by creating new, exciting worlds and characters. My stories are unpredictable, twisted with a dash of humor, and centered on gay characters.
You will question your existence among these worlds and wish you could escape to these places filled with foul-mouthed heroes who struggle and strive to save humankind.
I hope you’ve discovered something that excites and intrigues you. Please share your thoughts by leaving a review, visiting my website, or contacting me to learn more about my latest works.
We’re back with another author profile except this one’s about…me!
Catch my interview and reading on Katherine Grant’s podcast The Historical Romance Sampler, where we talk about the power of fiction and why Jessica is the best Sweet Valley High twin. As well I read from my gay Regency romance An Inconvenient Earl.
(Please enjoy this sarcastic promo image, because apparently putting the word ‘Gay’ on your book cover isn’t enough of an indicator for some people who think queer identities should come with a trigger warning.)
As authors, we are constantly on the receiving end of all sorts of advice about how to promote our work, much of which rely on magical thinking and/or spending a lot of money (or both.) Selling books in person, selling books at a discount, selling yourself as a brand, but for pure return on your investment, nothing beats giving away free books.
I’m not handing out paperbacks on the street, but I’m not the only one who believes in the power of free. Attract abundance by being abundant. Give books to everyone who wants one: that’s how you win fans for life.
Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”
Readers win too, because *ahem* book tastes are subjective. I honestly don’t expect everyone in the world to enjoy what I write. I would rather you read my free stories and decide that my work isn’t to your liking than make you pay money for a book that you end up hating. Costco has it right: give away as many free samples as you can. Your fans will find their way to you.
Visit my Free Reads page for bonus material from my series and some standalone shorts. I’ll be adding to the page in the next few months as I build up to the release of a series I’ve been working on for ten years. Mary Mac and her band of merry perverts have some deep lore, y’all. I have stories for years.
So, it’s like that, is it? You really want to read this book that badly, huh? All I did was casually post the meme that inspired it and my Threads blew up. At least compared to my normal bookish content.
I don’t expect any of my other book promo posts to do this well. The mysterious entity we refer to as the social media algorithm (but which is really a bunch of underpaid staffers supporting their billionaire employer’s fascist ideology) doesn’t want to see us win, and will crush your reach if it senses even the slightest chance that you’re going to reach people organically.
Good thing I had a review copy link ready to give people. Even so, I wish I had set up pre-orders, because not everyone wants the responsibility of a review copy. JK there is zero responsibility. I just want people to read the damn thing.
So if you like queer romance full of disaster gays making bad decisions and learning to get over them, adorable twinks who don’t understand how many people want to cherish them, and the trope I like to call Oblivious-to-Lovers where two best friends (who occasionally bang) realize that this is what love looks like for them: I got you, babe.
I toddled down a rabbit hole this morning. I say toddled because I got myself out so quickly instead of losing 2 hours to doomscrolling.
I was following a series of increasingly strident flags declaring that THIS is “the great gay American novel.” And I mean, I like great novels and gay people and am interested in America and anyone who has the nerve to lift the curtain. But like I always do, I started by reading the worst reviews. That’s where the gold is, the truth, the ick, or in some cases “this was too horny for me and had too many queer characters” in which case it’s a one-click buy. But sometimes it’s:
“FUCK. THIS. BOOK.”
That’s a one-click read, that review. If it inspires such vitriol then either it’s a masterpiece or a steaming turd.
Ah. The latter.
Because I’m absolutely not a little bit sorry, but The Great Gay American Novel is not allowed to be a goddamn Kill-Your-Gays trope. Not a fucking chance.
We’ve heard those stories. They’re called queer history. Despair, isolation, mental illness, and often the only defence is to destroy all human feeling in your soul so you don’t have to cope with the fact that if everyone knew you for who you are, they wouldn’t just hate you, they would want you dead.
Boring.
Boooooooorrrrrrrring because it’s horrible and spiritually deadening and it still happens in real life all the time and so we don’t need a 700 page novel about a loser who spends the whole book being awful to everyone and experiencing zero emotional growth but he just happens to be a gay man in a book about gay men so that makes it THE GREAT GAY AMERICAN NOVEL. It just feels like more trauma porn: look, here’s a walking, talking tragedy, let’s zoom in closer on all his faults. Now closer. NOW CLOSER.
Look, I haven’t read this book and under no circumstances will I ever read it (ok, a million dollars but I get half in advance.) I am basing my opinions on one review and the blurb of the book. And an interview in which the author said they didn’t believe in psychology and that people who were broken should essentially just stay broken.
That’s when I realized I’d *never* read the book, nor probably anything else this author has written. The way to help someone who is broken is to see them, hear them, love them, help them. “I see your pain. Your pain is real. Pain ends. I trust you. I believe you.” You don’t shrug and then take character notes. I refuse to read 700 pages about someone who refuses to grow, who gets no help, and whose main characteristic is being an irredeemable piece of shit. Just sounds like a novel about straight people.
There’s no denying that I am a snob. As such, I like my Historical Romance to be damn well historical. Attempting to live by my own standards, I mostly muddle about in the Victorian Era, despite all the press about its repressive culture. Michel Foucault has said some things on this, but I’ll save that for my dissertation (and this heavy-duty post of mine from last year.)
Intellectual wanking aside, writing fiction in the idiom of the Victorian age is a lot of fun. I like the diction and writing style, the license to be poetic and to drench my dialogue in innuendo and double entendre. I like as well the scenarios the Victorian era offers. Despite its reputation as an era of repression, it was in fact a time of broad social upheaval and technological advancement with many parallels to our time, including the struggle to implement socially beneficial infrastructure as the epidemic and chronic illnesses of increasingly urban lifestyles were battled with public health measures like sewers and indoor plumbing.
Deep diving into Victoriana feels a little like visiting Japan. It provides a sweet spot of a lifestyle much like mine, yet with an utterly foreign aesthetic and social imaginary. Britain under Queen Victoria and Japan in general are both cultures built on very precisely managed social facades, behind which can rage stunning perversities. We observe the gentility of a tea ceremony, but flip over the painted scroll hanging on the paper wall and you will find a geisha ‘entertaining’ several octopuses. The Marylebone gentleman speaks in Parliament, dines with his wife, kisses his nanny-educated children goodnight, then goes to the bawdy house and gets his arse resoundingly ‘birched’ like the good old days away at school.
While the Regency is a very popular period for Historical Romance (from Austen to Heyer to Quinn to Hall) it was not a very long time period. Many of its charms linger into the Victorian age. Well-spoken politeness still wins the day, and one’s past can define one’s whole future. Yet by the end of the 19th Century, class structures have notably shifted, introducing new types of people to each other. The middle class has begun to emerge, challenging the nobility’s power through sheer force of numbers. And technology had already begun to change the way everyone lived, at a pace unmatched in prior ages.
Not to mention it’s after Britain’s abolition of slavery, which suits me very well. I certainly can’t erase the wealth acquired through the Transatlantic slave trade, but statistically any titled person i.e. English Duke in the Regency was likely benefitting from the Slave Trade. Yes, that wealth carries over even to our times, but let’s say I prefer to play with the fiction-writing kit that doesn’t include that particular component. My titled 19th Century snobs can still be cruel, remorseless, indifferent to oppression. Today we might call them Tories, and there’s a wealth of contemporary fiction about this same kind of ultra-rich white cis-het culture. I don’t need to write about duels at sword-point for my stories to contain entitled men who feel they have the right to be violent, and who need putting in their place, which is really more where my interest lies.
And then there’s the aesthetic. I like dark suits and slim waistcoats and pocket watches and canes that turn out to be shivs. I like tailcoats and tight white shirts and black hansom cabs slipping through the streets to indecent assignations. Cockneys with knives. Can-can and Burlesque. Laudanum and Absinthe, Impressionism, subways, suffrage, Sarah Bernhardt and steam power, Charcot’s gynecological exhibitions and Aubrey Beardsley’s priapic prints, masturbation both as a symptom of insanity and the means by which one prevented it, and all the while corsets get tighter and tighter. The British Experiment reached its giddy apex, and for a few bold years the sun never did set on its Empire, while quietly it was being said that perhaps its former colony across the Atlantic was about to steal its gilded crown.
Change by the bucketful: unavoidable, terrifying, fascinating.
thefixer.home.blog 