April 24, 2025
The Great Forest and Other Love Stories was published n November 16, 2024, and so far, has received favorable reviews and positive reader responses. Most recently, my short story, “In Love’s Light,” was published in the JMS Authors charity anthology, Love is Free. All proceeds go to the ACLU. This collection is an act of resistance. Right now I am working on a new collection of stories about shapeshifters.
November 13, 2024
JMS Books will release my new story collection, The Great Forest and Other Love Stories on November 16!
Finding true and lasting love is not always easy, and sometimes comes at a cost. Sometimes, love hurts. Sometimes, love is found next door, sometimes on another planet. Quests must be taken; giant intelligent trees must be defied. A mysterious voice on the radio must be trusted. Can promises made in one universe be kept in another? What is going to happen with the giant comet passes by the Earth? I s love possible as the world ends? Will these lovers have a happily ever after, or at least, for now? Explore these and other variations of love and its difficulties this new story collection.
Buy links and nore info will be up on the Publication Page soon!
September 19, 2024
And I am adding another feature today to this page: sharing new and forthcoming publications by friends. Today, The Death Bringer, by @J. Scott Coatsworth, the long awaited conclusion to his amazing Tharassas Cycle! Available from Amazon and other booksellers!
July 17, 2024
Today, I am inaugurating a new page: Works-in-Progress and Coming Attractions. I wanted to highlight first, works-in-progress, and second, works that are forthcoming, with a publication date set. I am hoping doing so will generate more interest in my fiction.
Today, I want to briefly talk a novella I have been working for a few months, “Chocolate Seven,” and to provide a brief excerpt. “Chocolate Seven” is a modern fairy tale and a love story. I was inspired by the Scottish stories of selkies and their interactions with humans. For those who might not know, selkies are “are mythological creatures that can shapeshift between seal and human forms by removing or putting on their seal skin.” Of course, in the story, they are not mythological, but real, sentient, in that parallel world that co-exists with the human world.
The Scottish folk or fairy tale that is perhaps the most common is that of the selkie wife. When selkies come on land, they remove their seal skins and assume human form. A farmer, a fisherman, sees these beautiful women the beach, and recognizes as them as what they are. He steals the seal skin and thus acquires power over the woman. She must follow him. A marriage follows, and then children. Years pass, yet the call of the sea never goes away. Inevitably, she finds her hidden skin and goes back, sometimes taking the children (who are also shapeshifters) with her. There are quite a few variations on the selkie wife tale and there are, of course, other selkie stories.
In “Chocolate Seven,” the selkie is a young man, captured, and placed in a Mythic Zoo, run by a wizard, The Collector. He, with magical aid, escapes, but without his skin, and so begins the quest to find his skin. He winds up in Virginia Beach, and meets another young man, a human, and a romance follows. But the skin must be found. I am particularly fond of intersections of the magical and the mundane, here, selkies, magic, the parallel world, and a real city, a love story.
Below is an excerpt:
June 21-22, Friday-Saturday
Heath Coleman Loudermilk was a list-maker. Making lists had gotten him through his BA in English at Old Dominion University, and lists would get him through his MA at ODU as well. Of that, he was sure. Granted, some items he included just so he could check them off. Friday’s list wasn’t too long: Noon, turn in final essay in English 659, American Literature, 1945-present; lunch with his thesis and final oral comprehensive support group, also known as the thesis gang, then to the library to research possible PhD programs. After that, the Virginia Beach Boulevard Barnes & Noble to work from 4 to 9 p.m., plus closing.
Check, check, check.
Saturday’s list started at 8 a.m., with an early start at the bookstore with the team prepping for the 9 a.m. opening, off at noon. Back to his apartment, lunch, then Zoom with his parents back home in Richmond. They were leaving for Baltimore to visit his older sister, who was in her ninth month, with her delivery date a week ago. Three or four weeks later, they were heading to Annapolis to visit his next-oldest sister. Her due date was late July, early August. In between, they were taking a few days of sight-seeing in DC. They wanted to go over the details for Heath’s moving into the family beach house at the end of July and the repairs he would be supervising, starting in mid-August.
“All right, Mama, Daddy, I got you covered. I’ll give you regular updates when the repairs get started. Y’all call me each time I become an uncle. I love y’all, too. Travel safe.” After a few more good-byes, he signed off. Today was the day he officially began reading for his thesis, a head start on English 698 (thesis hours) in the fall, and 699 in the spring. He had promised himself he would be all done by his twenty-fifth birthday in the spring, along with his orals and thesis defense, then walking across the stage. The clock was ticking. But Heath was overdue for a beach walk, all the way to the end of the Virginia Beach Pier and back. And he knew he was always more productive after a walk. Starting from his one-room-and-bath, shared kitchen-and-living room apartment, it was twenty minutes to the beach.
The beach was as crowded as he expected for a June weekend. Dog walkers, joggers, solo bicyclists, tandem bikers, pedal cars. Solo and couple walkers, families, parents with strollers, they all crowded the Boardwalk. Kites flew from the beach, some soaring out over the ocean. Giant umbrellas, like huge multicolored mushrooms, sprouted on the sand, along with sand castles, forts, and sculptures. Sunbathers, lovers, and more walkers, with and without dogs. Heath realized, as he finally felt the warm sand on his feet, how much he missed it. The last weeks of summer school had been intense. Heath took a deep breath. The sea breeze, the smell of salt and fish. Out past the breaking waves, and incoming surfers, Heath could see at least three dolphins, No seals, of course. They had migrated north in May to colder waters off New England and Nova Scotia. He hadn’t seen any since early March.
His first stop on his beach walk was 31st Street, to pay homage to King Neptune. The god seemed to be coming up and out of a twelve-foot-tall rock throne, with fish, dolphins, lobsters and octopuses, all encircling the monarch. One hand held a trident, the other rested on a loggerhead turtle. He wove his way through the tourists posing for pictures with the King as he kept walking. The pier on 15th Street was next, with fishing folk everywhere, and more walkers and kite-flyers. Heath stopped at the outdoor fish cleaning and bagging station run by Good Fish, Fresh Fish Grill and Seafood Market, which was at the beach-end of the pier. He liked to watch the cleaners. The good ones were really fast, silvery scales falling around them, every bit of guts a clean drop in the bucket. Every now and then, they would throw fish chunks to the ever-present raucous seagulls.
At this point in the summer, Heath recognized all the fish cleaners. But not the guy standing at the far end of the long cleaning table. Heath stared. The guy was beautiful. Dark chocolate brown hair, in a net and pulled back in a pony tail. Bright green eyes. Tawny skin. The beautiful guy was going way too fast to be just starting, Heath thought. Maybe he usually worked inside Good Fish, Fresh Fish, in the market, not on the pier. He wondered why there were more seagulls hanging out around him than the other cleaners.
The guy looked at Heath. His big dark green eyes were staring right at him. He smiled, an amazingly beautiful smile. He waved, and finished bagging the fish he had just cleaned, dropping the bag in a cooler for whichever pier fisherfolk had caught it. He looked up at Heath, smiled again and went back to work.Heath finally made himself keep walking to the end of the pier and stare at the dolphins. What a beautiful man. On his way back, he stopped again and watched the beautiful fish cleaner. Another killer smile that Heath was sure was just for him. He smiled back, feeling stupid. They are probably told to smile at the audience. Get a hold of yourself. He’s probably straight, anyway. And I don’t really have time for a boyfriend, not with my thesis to write, work, PhD programs to research.
His last relationship didn’t end well. Heath met his last boyfriend, Calvin, junior year, in English 346, American Literature since 1860, the class that affirmed his love for studying utopian lit, and that he wanted to go on for an MA and probably a PhD. Calvin, a Secondary English Ed major, had left Norfolk to teach high school in Alexandria. But before he left, he had told Heath he was a fool to keep going to school.
Heath sighed. Sometimes he missed Calvin. But Calvin wanted an idea of Heath, not the real, more complicated person. So be it.
****
Heath had to work at Barnes & Noble all day on Sunday, which thesis work Sunday night. Monday, he spent the day on campus, reading and taking notes, picking up reserved books, and printing out articles. Lunch was with the thesis gang at a nearby deli. He told them about guy-watching on the pier, and the beautiful guy. They had laughed, telling him he’d better like the smell of fish. That night he worked. The store was a welcome quiet. To Heath it felt as if he were in not quite a library, but a close cousin. People tended to walk slowly among the shelves, carefully carrying coffee cups, stopping to pull out a book, put it back, or tuck it under one arm. They spoke almost in whispers.
Tuesday, he had the day off from the bookstore, which meant he could take his walk to the beach early in the afternoon, after working on his thesis. He read over his daily list Tuesday morning over coffee and oatmeal. He rolled his eyes. Going past the fish cleaning and bagging station was a separate item on his list, right after work on thesis, and maybe starting a course review outline for his orals in the spring. Which meant he would have to check it off. Who am I kidding? The beautiful man was there that afternoon. He looked straight at Heath with those big beautiful bright green eyes, waved, and smiled. Heath waved and smiled back, hoping his wave wasn’t too enthusiastic. On Wednesday, waves and smiles On Thursday, the beautiful man wasn’t there. He was sort of surprised that he missed seeing the beautiful man and that maybe he didn’t want this to be a spectator sport any longer. Maybe, I’ll talk to him tomorrow.
Kingdom of Joria 