I love a dirty girl with an even dirtier pen.
I am one, so I find myself meeting a few of them here are there – especially on Twitter. Today’s author (who I met via previous Spotlighter Dr. J) has written some of the naughtiest words I’ve read n a while. Oleander Plume dropped her latest novel, Horatio Slice: Guitar Slayer, in July and my summer hasn’t cooled down since. Combine the worlds of fantasy, heavy metal, and man-on-man action with a whole lot of laughs and you’ll have this saucy read.
Read on as Oleander dishes on staying humble as a writer, her Janet Evanovich #writergoals, and the one author she wouldn’t mind serving.
In a few sentences, tell us a little about yourself.
I like coffee, loud rock music, and dirty words.
What do you love most about the craft of writing?
Creating made up worlds to get lost in. And guys. Hot guys. Naked hot guys who kiss each other.
Tell us about your latest project.
Horatio Slice: Guitar Slayer of the Universe – my first full length novel. It’s a gay sci-fi fantasy erotic adventure.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
When the printed version of Horatio arrived in the mail and I saw my name on the cover.
~’That’s my end game: write as good as Janet Evanovich but with more sex. ‘~
What drew you to writing romance/erotica?
I needed erotica that was safe for me to read, so I created it for myself and others who were seeking the same thing.
Which book(s) have influenced your writing style the most?
The Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich. What can I say? I love her style. I love her characters and I adore her dialogue. Her books make me want to write. That’s my end game: write as good as Janet Evanovich but with more sex.
Share a piece of your work that showcases our writing style best.
Here’s an excerpt of Horatio Slice: Guitar Slayer of the Universe:
Horatio stared out into the sea of raised cigarette lighters. He used to find the gesture endearing, but now worried that one of his fans would set themselves on fire. After slinging his twelve string over his back, Horatio sang the first line of Monotony’s latest single, “Under the Gun,” and the place went up for grabs. The song had been out for under a week, yet everyone in the stands knew the lyrics by heart, a testament to the ferocity of Monotony’s fan base. Horatio found it humbling and kind of terrifying at the same time.
Being a rock legend freaked him the fuck out. Not long ago, he sat in the cheap seats, singing along with his favorite band, The Jukes, with barely enough cash to buy a T-shirt. Now he had money to burn, a dozen sports cars, three houses, and a yacht he never learned how to drive. The lifestyle was over-the-top ridiculous, and he wanted out. All he really needed to be happy was a van with a decent stereo system and a dog to keep him company, plus maybe the redhead in the front row who tossed her panties at him—red ones that had her number written across the crotch in black ink. Horatio was still winking at her when the floor dissolved under his boots, sending him into a free fall. When he finally hit solid ground, his knees buckled, and he fell on his ass.
“What in the fuckity fucking fuck just happened?” Horatio saw iron bars and a cement floor. “Jail? How the hell did I end up here? Again.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m in here for indecent exposure.”
Horatio freaked when he saw the other man sitting across from him, one knee bent, face hidden behind a porno magazine. The dude had cool boots on—tall ones, with chains around the ankles.
Horatio asked the man, “Hey, buddy, where am I?”
The guy flipped a page before answering. “Merona.”
“Merona? Is that in New Jersey?”
“New Jersey? Can’t say I’ve ever visited that particular dimension.”
“Dimension?” Horatio asked.
“Yeah. Where are you from?” the stranger asked, still hidden behind the porn.
“New York City.”
The dude tossed his magazine aside and lit up with a grin. “New York? The boys and I love New York. Great shopping. I’m Snake, by the way.”
Horatio almost choked on a mouthful of drool. Snake had the most amazing eyes, as silver as the chains on his boots, and miles of glossy, black hair. Horatio found the pirate get-up a bit of a stretch, though. Snake wore skin-tight suede pants and a frilly white shirt, topped off with a long, black coat. If he added an eyepatch or a hook for a hand, the dude could have walked right off a movie set. “I’m Horatio,” he said, then added, “Horatio Slice,” when he didn’t receive the usual star-struck response.
“Well, Horatio Slice, why didn’t you tell me you were from Earth in the first place?” Snake asked.
Horatio blinked. “Wait a minute. Are you saying this isn’t Earth?”
“No. I said that this was Merona, remember?” Snake looked irritated.
“Where the fuck is Merona?”
“Around mid-galaxy, fairly close to Vinterbourne, and a stone’s throw from Turquin. But you don’t want to go to Turquin. The creatures there will bite your dick off.”
“You’re stoned, right?” Horatio asked with a smirk.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Been smoking dope? Drinking? Shooting heroin?”
“Nope, never heard of any of that. Except drinking. I do enjoy knocking back a few.”
Horatio was about to ask Snake if he enjoyed knocking back anything else, like dick, for example, when he got distracted by the sound of heavy footsteps. A hulking figure approached, about six foot ten, with broad shoulders and a thick waist.
“A Reptilian guard,” Snake said under his breath. “Not surprised, really.”
“A what?” Horatio turned to get a better look and did a double take. “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” he asked the guard.
The creature growled. “Are you talking to me, punk?” The voice was masculine. And angry.
“I mean, your mask. Kind of early for Halloween, right? Or are you going to Comic Con when your shift is over?” Horatio squinted. “Gotta say, though, that’s some badass makeup. Pretty realistic.”
The guy looked like a lizard dressed in a drab olive uniform. His bald head, face, and neck were covered in sand-colored scales. Thick ridges replaced eyebrows, and his nose was nothing but two slits in the center of his face.
“This ain’t no mask, pretty boy.” The guard balled up his fists. “Or make-up. This is my face. Gotta problem with it?”
Horatio felt his bladder loosen. “It’s not a mask,” he whispered to Snake. “Where the hell are we, dude?”
“I told you, Merona. Mer-oh-nah,” Snake said.
“Merona Prison, to be exact,” the guard said. “Where I’d grind you into paste, except Meridian wants you alive.”
“Blimey! What did you do to Meridian?” Snake asked Horatio. His eyes grew wide, and he shrank back a bit.
The guard snorted. “Who’s Meridian? Did someone drop a brick on your head? Meridian’s in charge of the entire galaxy, for fuck’s sake.”
Horatio scratched his head and tried to remember the president’s name. Clinton? Yates? He knew she was tall with short hair, and while he couldn’t picture her face, the president was definitely not named Meridian. That he was sure of.
“Well, whoever she is, what does she want with me?” Horatio asked.
“I don’t know what he wants with you, and I don’t care.” The guard tugged a paperback out of a shirt pocket and settled his bulk on a plastic chair that bowed under his weight. “Just mind your manners,” he said with a snort.
Name three of your best writing tips.
- First and most important: stay humble. If you don’t keep striving to improve, you will stagnate.
- Allow your work to be edited. Have a degree in English Lit? I don’t care. You still need an editor.
- Do not publicly shame other writers. Stay in your lane. Focus on your work and what you can do to make it better. Hint: YOU CAN ALWAYS DO BETTER.
Dead or alive, name the writer you wish were your mentor and why.
J.K. Rowling. The woman is a genius and I would love to tell her that while I pour her tea.
What would you say is your own interesting writing quirk?
I always read my work out loud, it’s the best way to find errors, typos, and awkward sentences.
Shout out an indie writer whose work you love.
Dario Dalla Lasta. He’s amazing. Check him out at dariodallalasta.com – you will thank me later.
Do you have any specific writing goals in your radar?
I take it day by day. Today I woke up and found the courage to create. Tomorrow might be different, but it doesn’t matter because I had today.
Thanks for joining us today. Readers, feel free to stalk this sexy author at the following links: