My Mendacious Biography…

March 11, 2018 by Z.A. Maxfield

My bio is no longer true.

I did NOT give up housekeeping entirely to begin my writing career. It turns out–I only put it off.

My entire plan was: Once I become a bestselling author, I will have someone else clean my house.

And yay, right? I’ve sold some books. But it turns out that kids need dentistry and shoes and eventually college and I still don’t have a housekeeper.

Therefore I have been undertaking The Great Clean since the middle of last year. And no, I am not done. But I will tell you that I have decluttered the garage, the office, the kitchen, the laundry room, and my bedroom. The boys did theirs too, and I’m quite proud of them. They each have a system. We’re still a hot mess, but getting there.

I have been cleaning by location, which–DOESN’T WORK for a lot of reasons. Mostly because I have this terrible tendency to think, well, I’ll put that there, FOR NOW.

Yeah. So, then I got the book, The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, by Marie Kondo, and drumroll please…

It changed my life.

Because it’s not about finding places for all the stuff you have; it’s about deciding what sparks joy and letting the rest go. It’s about knowing what’s going to be in a drawer before you open it, knowing the exact whereabouts of the thing you need and finding it and using it and thanking it and putting it back–which is so smugly woo-woo I think I threw up in my mouth a little just saying it, and yet…

Le sigh. Sometimes smugly woo-woo things work, even if you despise their very idea.

My gift to you? I will be giving away 3 copies of this book on the Ides of March. (That’s Thursday, March 15, 2018)

Just fill out the form below, and I will receive an email to let me know you want to enter the contest. You must be able to receive the book electronically from Amazon, I guess, I should mention that. I tested it, and I made it work. No newsletter signups will be involved. I hope this works everywhere you see this blog post, but if not, I won’t be offended if you sign up a couple times to make sure. It will definitely work from my website.

I’m doing this because I want you to feel the way I feel when I see the room I’m sitting in now, clothes neatly hung in the closet, floors clean, everything in it sparking joy like a badass motherf*cking, joy-sparking…joy sparker. I must pause and enjoy…

Be well, and spring forward into the best year possible. I am cheering you on!

Sunday Brunch Blog – 10/06/2013

October 6, 2013 by Z.A. Maxfield

I’ve always wanted to find a way to ask a few of my favorite authors over for a nice, leisurely Sunday brunch, and that became the idea for this blog.

Each week I plan to invite a couple friends to this blog so I can ask them a question. My friends will share their answers with me and you, gentle readers, can give your answer to my question in the comment section below. I’ll choose one random person from the comments and reward them with an ebook surprise, it’s that simple! Comments are moderated, so don’t despair if you’re not posted immediately! All commenters will be entered into a drawing, so don’t be SHY!

This weeks question is:

What is your spirit animal?

My spirit animal, hands down, is Mario from Glove and Boots. http://www.gloveandboots.com He’s the red guy with a beard. The joke at our house is that I”m Mario and my daughter Anna is Fafa (the groundhog). Mario is always ranting and melting down over something and declaring things “this is the best! This is the worst!” while Fafa is logical and factual.

What I love about Mario is he acts how I often feel inside. If I were red, bald, and bearded, maybe I’d be able to let my id run amok like that, but I’m me, so I button up. But man, inside, I’m all red. I think my favorite part is that Mario is also gullible and slightly clueless. I’m that too — Author Heidi Cullinan

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My spirit animal is Martha Stuart.

I knew Martha Stewart was my spirit animal when I was listening to a radio show one Sunday morning as I drove through the LA area on my way home from grad school for the last time. She was referred to as the spiritual leader of not only Connecticut but all of New England and at that moment, something WASPy vibrated down to the very roots of my being.

I have disappointed her ever since.

Sure, there were acceptable votive offerings like my living room, a pleasing room sunk in Chinoiserie and designed around a six-foot tall, six-panel lacquered screen featuring semi-precious stone mid relief-work. Of course it’s the focal point of the room; there’s no way to hide something like that, so you might as well put it on display. Besides, my husband inherited it, so I’m stuck with it. I balanced it with a Roy Lichtenstein print, “Landscapes in the Chinese Style.” Old with modern (actually, pop art), reds and mauves with celadon, dimensional with flat. We even pulled the room’s colors from the two pieces and painted the walls just so.

But even that disappoints her now, I can tell. I mean, patterned paint treatments? That’s so 90s, and no one paints the ceilings of rooms anymore.

We will not even discuss the Stripped Bathroom Walls incident.

I thought perhaps I’d earned my way back into her good graces during my Mercury Glass Craze, but no. It brought only further disappointment and clutter.

Mercury glass was big a few years ago. Pottery Barn thinks it still is, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I went on a rampage across eBay and acquired a few charming mercury-glass pumpkins with the bright idea of slicing small circular holes in the felt on the bottoms, just perfect for the insertion of those clever little battery-powered tea lights.

Does that not sound like the perfect fall centerpiece? Does that not sound like something Martha would do? Okay, it’s something she’d toss it off in between color coordinating all the jets at JFK or making sure all the leaves on all the trees at Turkey Hill were pointing in the same direction, but I have to start somewhere, right? I have to earn my way back into my spirit guide’s good graces somehow.

Alas, this project, too, foundered in the face of parenting and all the other day to day details. I gave the small glass pumpkins to my mother. She likes Halloween as much as I do. I can see the last pumpkin from where I’m sitting as I type this. Actually, I can’t. It’s buried under a pile of my son’s outgrown clothing I’ve yet to take to the thrift shop.

See? A disappointment. Wait. I make my own soap. Does that count? — Author Christopher Koehler

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Sunday Brunch Blog – 9/22/2013

September 21, 2013 by Z.A. Maxfield

I’ve always wanted to find a way to ask a few of my favorite authors over for a nice, leisurely Sunday brunch, and that became the idea for this blog.

Each week I plan to invite a couple friends to this blog so I can ask them a question. My friends will share their answers with me and you, gentle readers, can give your answer to my question in the comment section below. I’ll choose one random person from the comments and reward them with an ebook surprise, it’s that simple! Comments are moderated, so don’t despair if you’re not posted immediately! All commenters will be entered into a drawing, so don’t be SHY!

Last week’s winner is: druuuuuuumroll please: Chris Muldoon! I’ll be sending you an email asking which ebook you fancy pronto! Thanks for playing along.

This week I gave my authors a tough assignment. It’s actually a question you’ll find in theory of knowledge classes, and very few people who signed up for my brunches wanted to take it on! Fortunately, in the three people here I have some very awesome authors who aren’t afraid of a challenge, so without further ado, I’ll ask this weeks guests to:

Define Art.

What is Art?

I saw this on a medallion at the Sawdust Festival in Laguna Beach, CA this summer and loved it so much I just have to quote it. It comes from artist, Jennifer Yane, and considering that I write the Beautiful Boys of Romance, it seems perfect to me:

Art is spirituality in drag.

: ) – Author Tara Lain

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Art is all about making an emotional connection. It may hit you only subliminally and you may not quite be able to put your finger on what it was about this piece of art, be it a book, painting, play, movie, musical composition or whatever, but you know that it touched you in a deep way, struck a chord in your heart, perhaps invaded your dreams, left you feeling something. Intellectual connections are fine, but for me, true art connects with your feelings in a visceral way. It speaks to you. It touches you. And if it’s truly great art, it awakens your sense of wonder.

That’s it. I hope this works for brunch. I can always make my famous soft scrambled eggs with green onions and cheese instead. – Author Rick Reed (editor’s note: YUM)

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Like obscenity, most people think of art as something they know when they see it. I have vivid memories of my father glancing over my various art class textbooks and commenting on Duchamp’s Fountain, “That’s not art!” The Society of Independent Artists would have agreed with him — back in 1917.

Yes, my dad is a little bit of a throwback, but he’s not unique in confusing quality with personal preference. The default position for a lot of us is, “I don’t know anything about art, but I know what I like.” So it’s probably natural that the logical thought progression would be that if you like it, it must be art.

But that’s a dangerous position: the notion that if you like something it must be quality or that if you dislike something, it must be flawed. I personally struggle with the concept that all art is subjective, and yet clearly concepts like Beauty and Good and Obscenity vary from culture to culture — and even within any given culture over a period of time.

I think the essential problem with the idea of art as subjective or personal, is that within that construct, the responsibility for what is or is not art lies with the audience — whereas I believe, by strictest definition, it actually lies with the artist. For me, whether something is, or is not, art is strictly to do with artistic intent.

The moment an act is performed deliberately in order to bring about a reaction from one’s self or another, it becomes art. Well, no. Because by that definition both murder and masturbation would be art. So I suppose I would have to qualify that to: the moment an act is deliberately performed to provoke an aesthetic — positive or negative — reaction from one’s self or another, it becomes art.

The catch is that what would be considered aesthetic at any given time is subjective. But the intent to provoke or stimulate the reaction is not subjective. – Author Josh Lanyon

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Now, Gentle Readers: Tell us how you define art HERE on my website for a chance to win an ebook from one of these fabulous authors!

Sunday Brunch Blog – fantasy animals…

September 7, 2013 by Z.A. Maxfield

One of the best things about my writing career is all the wonderful friends I’ve made over the years. Many of my internet pals have become in-person friends. We share adventures in writing, and often we have the opportunity to meet up at conventions like Romantic Times Book Lovers’ convention or GayRomLit.

I always wanted to find a way to just ask a few over for branch, and this became the idea for this blog.

Each Sunday I’ll invite a couple friends over and ask a question. My friends will share their answers with me. You, gentle readers, can give your answer to my question in the comment section below. I’ll choose one random person from the comments and reward them with an ebook surprise, it’s that simple! Comments are moderated, so don’t despair if you’re not posted immediately! No comments last week? Commenters will be entered into a drawing, so don’t be SHY!

This week’s question:

You’re a geneticist allowed to create one fantasy animal, describe it?

When I was sixteen or so, I started reading Anne McCaffrey’s Dragons of Pern series. Those flying, sentient, telepathic, fire-breathing beasts were magnificent! A companion, a protector, best friend, and well, flying! C’mon, who hasn’t wanted to fly?!? And as a burgeoning adult (as well as upon later rereads) I was able to appreciate the influence on sexual and romantic relationships. Not with the dragons! Minds out of the gutter! The dragons’ sexuality influenced their riders’ libido and choice of spouse. It was fascinating and hey, there were gay dragonriders, too. Go Anne McCaffrey! Seriously, I still love the idea of those dragons.

But, as a kid, I also wanted a pet cheetah I could ride to school, instead of having to take the school bus. Not sure why I never wished for a horse or a pony like most young girls, but there you have it. I wanted a cheetah. To ride. Apparently I have some sort of transportation fetish. This may explain why I’m so proud of having ridden a horse, a camel, and an elephant.

Anyway… any geneticist worth his or her salt ought to be able to come up with one of those Pern dragons, right? And it’s not asking too much to have it sometimes shift into a sentient, telepathic cheetah, right? I bet I’d have people lining up around the block to get one of my lovely creations. — Author KC Burn

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So, if I was a geneticist, and I could create anything I wanted by gene splicing or some such, I would create….this:

Zam said to describe it, but this seemed easier all around….hope I didn’t stray too far from the parameters of the assignment….lol! (Plus, we just finished watching Harry Potter, Prisoner of Azkaban again tonight, and I realize now, this is, like the opposite of a hypogryph. Go figure…) — Author Jaime Samms (who is also a great artist)

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And for a third author at our brunch table today: due to a slight miscalculation on my part, you only get me, (sorry). My Ideal Genetically Modified And Enhanced Animal would have the face of a llama, and maybe the body of a sheep, and some fluffy white wings. I love Llamas. There could be nothing better than a short fat fuzzy llama with wings.

Llamas hum when they’re content, and when they’re anxious they make this psycho honking sort of noise to alert their pals. They’re playful, and they pronk. Who wouldn’t love one of those especially if it flies? — Author Z.A. Maxfield

Let’s get started on our fantasy animals now, shall we?

Sunday Brunch With Friends – In The Beginning…

September 1, 2013 by Z.A. Maxfield

I always wanted to find a way to just ask a few over for branch, and this became the idea for this blog.

This week’s question:

You’re going into exile on a deserted alien planet. What three things do you bring?

I’m going to assume that the deserted alien planet is only deserted in terms of other humans. I mean, I don’t do camping so deserted alien planet only works for me if I’m not scrounging for food and water and sleeping in the dirt. 😉 That being said, I’d need room service or some other means of eating and drinking besides scrounging in the wild for it. I’m so not the Doomsday Prepper type that hunts for wild boar. I could handle kicking back and letting the aliens bring me food and drink on demand. It would be like a vacation, but on an alien planet devoid of humans…I could go for that! Especially if the aliens were male, hot and naked. 😉

Now, going along with my first choice, I’d have to say that the second thing I’d bring would be my family. Or rather, Rott and the babies. Nikki wouldn’t want to come. She likes human contact. In Rott’s case, he hates people. He’d be okay on an alien planet without humans as long as the aliens weren’t idiots. He’d probably think of it as a vacation same as me! I couldn’t go anywhere without him. His sense of humor keeps me balanced. He entertains me constantly and keeps me in a good mood so I can write sexy men. And I’d have to take the babies because who would care for them if I left them behind? I’d miss my Louie and his parents and brothers. Louie likes to lay on my feet while I work. I don’t think I could work without him. And it would be awesome if the aliens cleaned up after the babies…yeah, aliens on litter box duty…that’s awesome!

And lastly, I’d need someplace to work. Would need my computer and the internet, a comfy, roomy desk and a super comfy chair. What’s the point of going anywhere if I couldn’t write about it? And I’d need to keep working on the stories in my head even on vacay…er, exile…on an alien planet. Must. Write. Sexy. Characters. Yeah, no slacking on my part, even surrounded by aliens. — Author Lex Valentine

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I’d bring an acoustic guitar and a pitch pipe, plus a ton of guitar strings…
See, I’m hoping the alien planet will be stimulated by my arrival and begin to provide me with some cool aliens to hang out with, so I’ll have company. I like to have company. I’m sure it’ll take us a while to learn to communicate in each other’s languages, so until them we’ll communicate with music!

Or, if the planet really has to be deserted… I know! I’ll bring a sexy
Argeneau vampire, who happens to be my lifemate. Um… what else? geez, Zam, this is a tough one. I’d bring a Christmas tree, because I love them so much mine stays up most of the year (yeah, it’s still up). Oh, and a cat. I’d leave my daughter here, because I don’t want to trap her on a deserted planet. She’s only thirteen, and that would deprive her of a lot of fun growing up stuff. So, yep. Sexy vamp who can make me immortal and adores me, a swanky Christmas tree with self-powered LCD lights, and a pregnant cat… you know, so there will be kittens. 🙂 — Author Cherie Noel.

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“This jury finds you guilty of being over fifty, a writer, and a bear. You are sentenced to exile on Planet Maxfield. You are allowed to take three things with you, Bear on Books.” The voice of some little puissant judge kept buzzing around in my head, and all I wanted to do was wake up and go get a green chai latte and maybe a blueberry muffin. Whole grain, of course. Throwing my hand out and hitting the light switch, I slowly opened my eyes and saw it wasn’t a dream after all.

Those bastards really did send me to rim Maxfield…er, Maxfield’s Rim. Thank the gods the view here was stunning—all those shades of red.

First things first, I went and relieved myself, and splashed some cold water on my face. Even in exile, there was no reason to walk around looking like something the bear dragged in. I opened the pet gate and walked into the kitchen and bent down to pet the dogs. That was the first, and most necessary thing on my list of three items I was allowed in exile. Digging through the cabinet, I pulled out a couple of cans of food and fed the beasts before opening the door to let them out.

My Kindle was on the charger. I’d wrangled with them over it being one thing or many, since it was full of books. They might have made the rules, but they never thought around it long or hard enough. My four thousand books didn’t count, just the reader.

Ha, take that Judge Judy.

Two strong arms wrapped around me as I was flipping through my “Gay Romance” collection to find a book to read during breakfast. “Mmm, good morning Sir.”

Yes, my good little slave boy Vin Diesel made the cut at Number Three. What a shame we had to leave all his clothes back on Earth though.

Breakfast was looking better and better… — Author Tom Webb

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Join me every Sunday, as we explore silly things with exciting authors!