Reviews are slow in coming, but so far (and it’s a bit scary, this) they have been universally praising. I suppose that—it not being a Romance—people are hesitant about reading it, as most of my readers are in the Romance genre. And gay tragedy is rather a niche niche.
Never let it be said I wanted to make things easy for myself, eh?
Not that I don’t wish that my mother was around every day of my life, but I really really wish she was around right now because the story was her idea, and she always said to me “when are you going to stop writing this stuff and write something serious?”
Well, mum, I think I just did.
The review at Booked Up: and here’s an extract:
The acceleration of the story was slow but emotionally disturbing at the same time. Being in someone else’s head, feeling the same feelings and having the same thoughts felt like an intrusion that left me sad. Even their sexual encounters at the beginning were innocent in a way that left me breathless with anticipation. What next? How would the final act be? And at the end it was like poetry more than sex.
It’s hugely gratifying to have that reaction: that the reader felt like she was intruding into Edward’s head, because that’s exactly what I hoped would be, like they felt they were an eavesdropper, hearing and experiencing things that made them feel they shouldn’t be looking at—like seeing two lovers kiss when they think they are entirely alone, or something like that.
I lived in that man’s head for about 18 months, and the people who were around when I was writing it can attest that I found it very difficult—not to write, Edward’s voice came to me very easily—but riding in his mind – like the reviewer here, I felt uncomfortable and desperately sad that – even as his creator – I could do nothing to help him, and was just happy that he managed to squeeze a little joy in his love affair.© Copyright 2011 Erastes, All rights Reserved. Written For: Erastes