Coming soon to iBooks, Amazon, just about any e-book format you can think of.
Only a few of you knew that I was working on this, and here is is. On a Sunday evening. Thomas knew. He has always known. Title of the book comes from kissing THAT MAN!
ISBN: 9781370811991
COVER OF BOOK #13:
About the romance between:
Vashti Astapad Warren and Thomas Robert Higgginson, literary lovers
short description of the romance novel:
“After 25 years, this man and woman meet again, and Thomas is delighted, but Vashti fears that she cannot compete with the fantasy version of herself, and they agree to meet in Chicago, once Thomas is convinced that she will not become involved with the man from online dating, and when they meet, there’s instant attraction, and Thomas makes good on everything he has promised Vashti. Vashti has the best intimacy, best kisses, best sex of her life.”
Long description:
Vashti, a sexually repressed 60-year-old female poet finally finds the courage to divorce a man she married as a teenager, a man jealous of her looks, of the very equipment that makes her so appealing and this freedom allows 66-year-old poet Thomas Higginson to act upon the fantasy he’s had for thirty years of loving Vashti, actually holding her, making love to her, a fantasy he acts out by visiting a store of Vashti, his fantasy come to life, and of course, entering that store is really a sexual act, for he’s entering Vashti, even if just in his head that somehow Vashti seems to control for she has awareness of all of these Dream Baby Tienda events.
“Novel begins with Vashti revealing her past to her friend Thomas Robert Higginson. Thomas Higginson enjoying his fantasy at the Dream Baby Tienda; he’s been interested in Vashti and loving her in his dreams, in his fantasies for 25 years. Every aisle has forms of Vashti on the shelf. He feels a little guilty because he’s married, but Vashti is thoroughly irresistible to him. He tries not to give in to his fantasy’s demands, but he fails, realizing the attraction he feels is much too powerful to deny.
He invites Vashti to be in a movie, and he wants to begin making love to her right then, but he doesn’t, as both of them are married, but he wants to anyway; he finds Vashti to be the most beautiful woman in the world. He comes to the university where she teaches, and Vashti is in the audience, and Vashti loves how Thomas Higginson performs, but Vashti is married to a non-poet spouse, because beautiful Vashti was raped and became pregnant from that when she was fifteen. Then Vashti meets the man she marries three weeks after the abortion… He is not sensitive to what has happened to her; she is 16 when they meet, Wesley is 23, not a good match at all. Thomas is a much better man for Vashti; he always knew this, but takes a little longer for Thomas to charm Vashti twenty-five years later when his weight gain worries him that he will not be attractive to his fantasy woman.
During the twenty-five years since they meet in person for Thomas’s movie, Vashti marries an infertile man, and almost doesn’t get to have a child of her own. Vashti’s spouse cannot accept his infertility, and refuses to accept a sperm donor, but Vashti insists on having a child.
And ultimately this child more like Vashti than anyone else in the world causes the dissolution of a marriage that never should have happened, but Vashti’s mother was only too glad to get Vashti married off, and since Wesley was interested, Vashti’s mother agrees to the teenage Vashti marrying a man much too old for her. Now that Vashti is free, and Thomas Higginson’s wife has died, Thomas and Vashti become friends on Facebook, and as soon as Vashti changes her relationship status, he contacts Vashti, as he has during those years since the filming of his movie in 1988, as friends not as lovers. Once Vashti finally divorces in 2013, this sexually repressed woman tries online dating and is extremely disappointed, so when Thomas contacts her to begin dating, Vashti is occupied with a man from an online service, and Thomas has to wait a little longer. But Vashti soon realizes what Thomas wants, and Vashti is fascinated, although this man has gained a lot of weight, at least thirty pounds. But after 25 years, this man and woman meet, and Thomas is delighted, but Vashti fears that she cannot compete with the fantasy version of herself, and they agree to meet in Chicago, once Thomas is convinced that she will not become involved with the man from online dating, and when they meet, there’s instant attraction, and Thomas makes good on everything he has promised Vashti. Vashti has the best intimacy, best kisses, best sex of her life.
Thank Goodness for Facebook!
Thomas Higginson and Vashti Astapad Warren may not have found each other without Facebook!
“Thomas Robert Higginson” is:
the same poet friend and collaborator who appears in Wannabe” (all those Higginson poems)
“Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ RedDress Code” –last book from Persea, jacket
the same poet friend who collaborated with me in the making of a chapbook of poems, also available from Amazon right now:
“Aneurysm of the Firmament”
Please feel free to share this info widely.
Thomas Higginson is first mentioned in “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ Red Dress Code”, but this poet friend, of course, exists beyond that. I’ve known him over 30 years. I am 62 right now…
“NEW KISS HORIZON” is quite the explicit little book, but good to curl up with, in the cold of this approaching winter. You can download first 20 pages at Smashwords <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373> to see what you think, if the description is not enough. No sex in the first 20 pages, however.
Model for Thomas Higginson; I had to have one, and here he is… I have written so much about him; in fact the moment based on this photo is mentioned in the book; I encourage you to leave comments on this post. It gets rather lonely writing about a man like him, as I would prefer to be with a man like him, truly, with him, but I guess I could try a close substitute,
I have to say that there is no other man like him, and if you’re lucky enough to have the chance to go out with this man you must… Do not deny yoursef the pleasure that he can provide. I had to be 60 years old to find out for myself. After being married for 40 years. I am so very glad I now know what it’s like to be kissed… Really, truly thoroughly kissed. Well, here’s the model, me right beside him; I could not have invented Thomas Higginson entirely. My friend really helped me understand the man I need, the man I want after being married 40 years.
I have to say it, there is no better lover than Thomas Higginson.
KEEP KISSING! –no matter what.
I think that we look great tgether, but of course, I would.
Well, here I am, falling in love (again) with my character:
Mr. Thomas Higginson.
It is very easy to fall in love with him, at least for me… Just wish I had the power, the magic wand that could make him a real man beside me right now.
I wrote exactly the man I want. How could I not?
Obvious where my mind is right now…
Beginning another Monday without this man… Hope that he finds me; hope he’s looking for me. I’m not going anywhere until he gets here.
On this summer afternoon, I still wait to hear about the status of my romance novel. Yes I guess I am impatient, still working on selling my house, and having the terrific life that a very good friend of mine, a Mystery Man (with whom I am in love –ouch) told me I am going to have.
Whatever this post is, it is also a post to a Mystery Man
It is also a post to you, whoever you are; I will never tell.
I have no idea where I am going to live. Just that I will be moving –and I am looking forward to beginning this new life, with or without you, but preferably with you. Definitely my preference, but I can’t say that it will ever be yours. Wish I could say that. Because I love you.
Because I want you to love me too. I even told you that I know I am your “Side Chick” (at best –and I’m okay with that? What is wrong with me? –willing to be the side chick just so I can have you? Why don’t I want more for myself? –yeah; I already know you are the best possible lover, and I probably should not have told you that, but I did because it’s true, and I realize that I am too public for you, Mystery Man, but I don’t want the light of what I feel hidden under a bushel. I light it just for you, light of my world. Do not let the fire that warms you go out, already dimmed a bit by time itself, but I am making up for that. I am blowing on the flame; my hot breath is working that fire, fanning those embers, restoring the hot potential, living up to my blazing name…
I also said some other things that the pressure of all this forced me into saying, trying to get my house prepared for sale, worrying about my sick mother…and taking it out on you.. I’ve been accusatory, saying things I know simply aren’t true… about when I was in the perfect world of your arms… I wish I didn’t have to apologize but I do. Mystery Man, I didn’t mean it, what I said about boats, especially. I was, am under the duress of all of this; and I’m too afraid to tell you. I am not sure you would even listen to me, and this is my unadorned apology. I am sorry Mystery Man –I just ask you to please understand. My mind is going in circles, round and round your sweet clockwork face –you know I look at your face and love it, can trace every crease in both my mind and heart…
and this version:
but mostly it’s “If You Stay in my Corner” (The Dells):
I know I have a volume of poetry coming out every soon now, I can wait to see the galleys, my 11th book! “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Relities’ Red Dress Code” –and I am so excited about that! –words cannot begin to describe the joy I feel just thinking about that book, cracking the spine, smelling it, even licking some of my favorite pages, photographing myself holding it, traveling and reading from the book! –I cannot wait for such moments;
Here is the cover, and it is available for pre-order right now on Amazon dot com :
and the author photo (taken by graphic artist Ansted Moss):
Now of course, I’m looking forward to Wannabe, but I do admit to being even more excited about just the possibilty of this romance novel, because I get to partcipate in such ideal love and passion through my characters, eveything I may want, the characters experience; how could I write it and deny the protagonist the experience I would want for myself?—if I could have it– maybe someday, because this writer believes in love..
I will always believe in what love can accomplish with that Mystery Man (you), or with any man; I am not the kind of woman who will be happy without a flesh and blood man –who knows who I am, a woman who wants a man who will be hers, and I will be his.
I sure hope it’s you.I know I don’t have to tell you again, but I sure like saying it, get caught up in the refrain of it.
But even more disturbing right now, is the increasingly deteriorating condition of my mother. She is losing her grasp of reality… Her diabetes is out of control; she’s been falling and not telling her doctor. She’s not taking her medicine and using profanity the likes of which I’ve never heard her use. Glaucoma, Thyroid trouble, Heart disease, Out-of-Control Hypertension
Her situation is so exasperating, she is not taking her medicine, and this sick diabetic woman is now about the same weight I am, this has never been the case! –always since I can remember, 40 pounds heavier than me. I understand that her backyard lawn has not been cut in a couple of months; my father died on 13 July 1980, and when I called to remind her that it was the 36th anniversary of my father’s death, she didn’t know what the day meant, nor did she know me –I had to explain who I was…
(She is 86 years old, and I am 62 years old)
A little later, some pictures of my mother and my mixed race father, and my non-black paternal grandfather, with Caucasian, and Native American Heritage and Ancestry from India
(includes some artwork by my mother; she was born in Alabama, a tiny town not on most maps, and was very senstitive about her color; when she was more lucid she told me that she was always called the “Little Black One” –this casued her to use “Nadinola” all over her face, arms, legs, neck, to lighten her skin –this was very important to her! She hated being dark skinned, had high yellow dreams, I was not high yellow at all, but did have the prize hair, all my life, but even more so now –she encouraged me never to go into the sun; she is so embarrassed by her hair that she always wears a wig, and even did so for my wedding (you can see that Nadinola glow [somewhat radioactive, it seems to me] in her face. My father was already sick; what was he really thinking?):
Bride Thylias, with my father and just with the bouquet, 25 August 1973:
I had a tremendous amount of hair then, the teenager that I was.
Wedding day 25 August 1973
I made all the dresses for the bridesmaids and flower girl in my wedding (sewing based on what I learned in a single semester of home economics in seventh grade):
and if my mother could understand it, she would be shocked that I walk in the sun, anyway, and yes, even flaunt my “good hair” –I’m glad I have it; I will not lie, and this 62-year-old woman with multiple sclerosis, who almost died on 29 July 2011 when a cranial aneurysm ruptured, and my head was partially shaved, but the hair has grown back profusely! –in a straighter and natural texture; I’ve even gone walking in the rain! (trusting that my hair would retain its length, and not revert (to what it never was):
–I have quite a thing for my hair, I admit that, and I also admit, in my mind, at least, that I walked to that elusive Mytery Man –but I fool no one, and certainly not you; I fear I will always love you, and you are certainly most deserving of love (there is no better lover; nothing compares with being in your arms –I admit that I just want you to love me back; that is all I want… I can’t even sustain any anger toward you… I’ve tried and it doesn’t last. What is it about you? –I fear I’ll never be able to let you go!
Mystery Man, just love me back; that’s all; just love me back! –now I’m begging you… I liked much better when you were chasing me; you know how to persue better than most men.. What more do you want from me? –please don’t say nothing unless that is the truth
–I learned this from this Mystery Man, from you, that I am in fact beautiful, you always told me that, and no one else ever did, not even my ex-spouse, I was so lonely and hungry for compliments, just wanted to know that the man I was with liked how I looked, a shapely and sexy little package, and was happy to be seen with me; my ex-spouse said he didn’t tell me because “my head would swell”; Mystery Man , you didn’t care how big my head was; when I told you, Mystery Man, that you were the only man who called me beautiful, you could not believe it, so I told you, which was true, that outside of catcalls, whistles and other unsolicited reactions, it was only your opinions that matter to me, and this is more true now than ever (with what I’m experiencing with my mother and those well-meaning souls around her, I need “The Comfort of a Man,” the Comfort of you,Mystery Man.
and I learned to believe you. My ex never told me that I was beautiful, but now, I KNOW I AM –so even if nothing else happens between us, I learned valuable things from you, endless pasion; I was loved by you as every woman, as every prerson should be loved, the heights of pleasure, heights of desire, there is no denying this, and if nothing else, I learned how to express this love to you… You were patient with me, realizing what I didn’t know and realizing what I was able to feel with you… and I have nothing but thanks for you for that, sort of similar to
But I was older than the writer of that thank you to my ex ; I experienced my first real adult love afffair with you. In most ways, I have to admit that you Mystery Man are my first love as the adult woman I am now, and there is no wonder that I want physical love, all forms of love with you again… Should come as no surprise at all. You are the Right Kind of Lover! as in:
It is that good being with you whoever you are, a man of my dreams fully fulfilled A man I will never forget and, truth be told, do not want to forget. Ever. I just want you to want me so much that you won’t mind admitting it, that I won’t have to be a side chick or a friend with benefits. I want the comfort of a man, the comfort of you Mystery Man –there is nothing else like it, no one else like you….
Side chick
and ideally not just secret lovers, though I cannot lie to myself I would take that; you are such an exquisite lover, well, Atantic Starr can say it better:
No secret to that wonderful, dammit! Mystery Man that as Luther says, I came here for you to love –for you Mystery Man, all for you!
Luther Vandross, “For You to Love”:
So “My First Love“, and “Comfort of a Man” for you, everything for you… –“I Will Always Love You“
and I will Always Love you
Mystery Man, I just pray that you will Love Me back; that’s all, Mystery Man –and I am not as high maintenance as I must seem to you.
Lord help me, I so love you, Mystery Man, and Lord help me, sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I keep wishing and hoping, as in this Dionne Warwick rendition –I am yours, but are you mine? –are you kidding? I know you like long hair, and I didn’t buy mine; if hair were all it takes, you would be mine… but if even the long hair fails, this 100% natural butt-kissing hair, you can play with my hair all day, all night and it will not come off, I do not have to worry about “weave sex” as discussed in the film good hair what can I do? And if my hair won’t do it, nor any of my other natural looks that I so want you to desire… My tiny waist, my shapely hips, those peachy breasts that ripen whenever you are near, if these things don’t entice you, what will? –and why do I care so much? it isn’t as if you’re the only man in the world! –but you are the only man I want in my world.
Trailer from Chris Rock’s “Good Hair“:
I do want to be in your heart! (so embedded that without me, you’d have no heart)–no lie there!
So there you have it, waiting for “Wannabe“(that’s definite), hoping like crazy for my romance novel in which the female character is loved back, and then some, my dying dementia-ridden diabetic mother with hypertension that would have already killed the more ordinary; she has already given up on life, and is just waiting to go home to Jesus, while her house that my father bought in 1963, and where she still lives rapidly deteriorates… Oh I remember being in the south, and my father able to go into stores that my mother could not enter; I remember hiding in the car, being so frightened, because in that tiny Tennessee town, there were some who did not feel that the races should mix…
I cannot explain exactly how my paternal grandfather could even exist… Caucasian, Native American, and Indian (as in “India”) and my own problems with not only finding the right man –which I’ve done– but having you willing/able to love me back… Unless you have married… I do not know.
If you are that deeply in love with somone other than me, I would like to know so that I can begin to adjust, but let me tell you, there is no man on this earth I would rather kiss, and there is no man on this earth I woud rather touch, and there is no man on this earth I would rather have kiss me, no other man on this earth I would rather have hold me, and no other man on this earth I would rather hold —
But I do need a love of my own! as in:
If you think I’ve confessed to you Mystery Man how much I love you in this post, I assure you that I’ve confessed this to you even more in texts… I so want you just to notice me… I so want things you said in the past to still be true… This is not the first time I’ve said any of this, and I fear that sometimes I should keep my blabbermouth shut, but if you can love me for what I am, I should be able to say anything to you… I even asked you to tell me if you thought you could ever love me; I asked you to tell me that you’re sure you never want to hold me again, to never touch me again, to just tell me, because I can’t wait for you forever, but if you know you can’t ever love me, I want to know that…
but if it’s possible, as much as I say I wouldn’t, I would take you back–not you you’re gone, still BFFs–, so rather elevate both of us from BFFs to lovers… –which is what I want, but if you don’t? Too bad for you, but, for now, I love this Mystery Man! –I love you–even if I shouldn’t.
I have never loved a man the way that I love that Mystery Man: you:
Now some pics of how I look right now, and what this Mystery Man (you) seem willing to give up. My hair: no wig, no weaves, no hair pieces, no extensions, 100% natural hair, waist-length and rooted in my scalp; 98 pounds, no plastic surgery anywhere; I have never had to diet. Everything about me is natural except for some hair dye from time to to my hair. No bleaching or skin whitening creams. My own “yellow” teeth (I will be going to the dentist). I was told that I have dense breasts in my most recent mammogram (a week ago), but no abnormalities detected dense breasts –as I’ve had since I was a teenager in triple D cups –really got me noticed, and may have helped that deacon decide to rape me, but they are natural, no implants –never, As that you Mystery Man, know better than anyone…
I love you, Mystery Man. I honestly love you. You know I do.
For the record, this is just too much for me, trying to prepare to sell my house, a son I love dearly who isn’t that cooperative, and then his partner who lives with him in my basement (so far, I haven’t received even a penny from my tenants [who aren’t that tidy]), the romance novel, trying to find my way on my own, without a car, too difficult for me to feel that I can drive safely with my optic neuritis, a consequence of my MS–but I can walk six miles most days, three miles to a locaton where often I find so many geese, and amazing sunsets:
Walking for Joy, hoping for Bob, trying to accept that it might not be him; my world being crushed
Walking for Joy, hoping for Bob, trying to accept that it might not be him; my world being crushed
Walking for Joy, hoping for Bob, trying to accept that it might not be him; my world being crushedgeese
Walking for Joy, hoping for Bob, trying to accept that it might not be him; my world being crushedgeese
Walking for Joy, hoping for Bob, trying to accept that it might not be him; my world being crushed
Walking for Joy, hoping for Bob, trying to accept that it might not be him; my world being crushed
–and yet I must still shop for food, and I want to do these things for myelf, and see what might happen (don’t I hope) with that Mystery Man (you), and if not you, then someone else. I hope it can be you –please “I say A Little Prayer”
and this version of saying a little prayer:
First task is to sell this house and be free of a house too big for me to take care of by myself, without help from my tenants, as it currently is, one of whom is my own 25-year-old son who has psychological problems, that I don’t believe he inherited from his Bangladeshi sperm donor paternity. Such donations and family backgrounds are screened. Sperm donations are kept for six months before being used. I was lucky in that one visit was all it took for me to conceive… the difference a good sample makes, I was told, by the fertility clinic’s doctor.
I recall that when my ex-spouse found out about this pregancy he did not want me to have; I remember that he said, “Didn’t I consider AIDS”? -and he would probably say that my son’t psychological problems stem from the donor. I do not know. I want the best possible outcomes for everyone.
And yes, you better believe that I want you, Mystery Man… But, I want you to want me too.
Do I really ask for too much in asking for love?
So this is my crazy life right now, but it is life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way…
Thank you for reading this.
Sorry that I rambled on and on… I have so much on my spilling plate… And that Mystery Man
is not here.
I am never giving up on love, even if that makes me a fool for love, fool, fool , fool for that Mystery Man ; fool, fool for you.
I hope I am able to report something better about you, that one day, you are no longer a mystery man because we enter a better relationship, one that isn’t all me, for now, my impossible dream, but I really pray for more than that…
And here’s Frank Sinatra, saying it better than me, The Impossible Dream becoming possible:
This is more than enough for one night; I love you Mystery Man enough for a thousand and one nights, for a million nights, for every night. –I can’t help what my heart feels, one thing that is for sure, Mystery Man, “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine“
(Lou Rawls can help me with this one, and I do need help, loving this Mystery Man [you) as I do):
Good Night, Mystery Man; don’t let the bedbugs bite
Draft of romance novel complete! And accepted by my editor, Jason Kirk! –there is a wonderful synopsis and everything! –he’s sending it out to a publisher today!
Now all I have to do is wait (I don’t mind that –good to have to wait for this, because I am convinced that this romance novel will be a book!
—–
and a bit of disturbing news on the horizon, at least I am disturbed, as the second reader, although he likes the book — wants more concealment of his identity…
And I have just learned the truth: he has private memory of something now gone.
At least now I do not have to wonder. I still have my best friend. I am not love with a “real” man at all, but get to realize that love with my character… So I am officially alone again. Officially unattached. Imagine that.
Happy for the book, sorry for the heart.
A youtube playlist of heartbreak for dying love, the love was all mine, but now it’s dying not the friendship, just the love affair –there isn’t one, and now the next book in the romance series will be so different from anything I imagined, now I get to write about heartbreak ( still working through e furlongs. :
and Ain’t no way Aretha Franklin:
and “Call Me” Aretha Franklin in case he ever gets back to love, and somehow those matters of proximity and distance can somehow be bridged:
So pleased to say that I just submitted a revised draft of my romance novel, something I’ve been dying to do, and after a misstep or two yesterday, things are back on track!
“What You Won’t Do For Love!”
Oh for love of this book!
Thanks so much for my editor Jason Kirk helping to get this little book to this point.
Little more than the romance novel for me to think about; I’m trying but it’s very difficult; I know that so much else is occurring in the world, even celebration of US independence, but that is not enough to get my mind off a CHANCE for the possibility of that novel.
“As I mentioned via text, I can’t really dig in until Saturday, but by the end of this holiday weekend, I’ll send this back, almost certainly with only the barest of surgical edits, all tracked, for you to accept or reject as you see fit. Shouldn’t take long at all, and then we can start sending it out. As I mentioned, I know one publisher that would welcome a cold submission from me, so we should give them a bit of time to review it first, then if they’re not interested, I can start querying the agents I know, who number several dozen. That’ll be the extent of what I can do in terms of getting it out there, but I welcome the chance to do it.
Thanks, Thylias. And congratulations. This book has come a long, long way!
Those who know me personally have no idea all that book contains, but it definitely contains it. That book is giving me no peace, and I hope it’s the same way for the others, the many others –dare I say that?– lucky enough to read this book once it becomes available and it will!
Just thinking about it, I am a total wreck. For this is the book I want to read also. I want to be on buses, in taxis, on subways, in boats every mode of transportation, I want to be seen reading this book.
I hope it’s banned in certain places, I assume in church (except for what is read in secret) –just not openly. Although sex like what’s in my novel surely has a place there. Let’s just say, and this can’t possibly go too far; but let’s just say that the possibilities for intimacy and romance are achieved; I wrote about my ideal situations, how could I not? When I too dream, and if I can’t give my characters what I would want for myself, then I am much less the writer, much less the human being I thought I was, I hoe I am, and although I was married for a very long time, I haven’t stopped dreaming about love that way I would like for it to be, and if I can’t get it with my –truly –butt-kissing-hair, my tiny waist, my 98 natural pounds at age 62, then maybe it isn’t there for me to get, and I know I sound right there like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, realizing why home is where she should be, and of course, I’m hearing Stephanie Mills sing “Home”
As since the show at the Pulitzer Fine Arts Foundation in St. Louis should be closed now, you will no longer be able to see my video poam, “The Glory Prelude to a Widow Shrine System” there, but sometime this weekend, I will place it on YouTube and you will be able to see it there. Some video stills from “The Glory Prelude to a Widow Shrine System”, music by experimental filmmaker and graphic artist Ansted Moss, all vocals performed, and all images captured by Thylias Moss:
STILL FROM MY VIDEO POAM: “THE GLORY PRELUDE TO A WIDOW SHRINE SYSTEM”
“Toy Piano” on which “Piano Hair was both composed and performed.
Thylias Moss is in love with life, with everything, with herself, Christal Rice Cooper, and with, oh everything, –a man too –he knows who he is. And I thank him for being someone I can love. I can never thank him enough, and that’s as public as I can be about my own real heart.
I celebrate my independence from sadness, from feeling myself not “pretty”, from fearing ravages for disease, for I also have MS (multiple sclerosis, and you could never tell) –so Chris Rice Cooper this is also for you my friend, as I continue to love myself (maybe even too much)
For my new book of new romance novel, I hope to have some pics f myself taken by Tony Smith
I am so pleased, so particularly pleased to be able to say that my wonderful editor Jason Kirk had even more good news to report:
He has indeed recieved a copy of my ROMANCE NOVEL, and in just a cursory consideration, likes what he’s seen.
This gives me so much hope, and I cannot wait to hear what happpens next.
I just need (want) to hear a more detailed response from the only other reader, my closest friend in this world, not because I need his approval; I just like to have his opinion.
Here’s to my editor and here’s to my friend!
And I begin to celebrate romance with this song, “Love Me Back” by Kenny Lattitmore (one of my favorite songs) and “Lovers Rock” by Sade:
American Journal of Poetry featuring my prose poems:
Introduction to LFMK, “absolute alleys of hardcore opportunity,”, “yes Melvie, my killer comes to Inaccessible Island with apologies & cigarettes”, and “iron maiden possibilities; also silo in the time of scurvy” has now gone live here
Very happy ro report some progress with my 549 page, 77,021 word romance novel!
I have heard from the industry reader, and he says this:
“I think the majority of the work is done. Structurally, it’s pretty sound, and everything you’ve added to it has been to its benefit. I’m focusing on a few remaining structural issues and some line-editing, but the result should not require a huge amount of work on your part. After that I think it’ll be ready to shop around.
So rest easy, I think it’s getting very close, and the majority of the work for you is done. Be proud of what you’ve accomplished, and I thank you for your patience with me.”
–I added my heart!–
Seems to me that a romance novel is going to exist! Much, much closer than I was, and so I’ll celerate, but will not count any dollars I have not yet received…
Can’t wait to hear from this excellet reader with his suggestions for final –brief— revisions..
Be still my heart! Time to do some cartwheels!
Author image from my walk in Ypsilanti rain; didn’t significaantly alter my hair, my butt-kissing hair –forgive me, but this 62-year-old-woman is delighted with that… And my mixture of races. As real as anything.
And much of the mixture comes from this man, my father’s father: Causcasian, Native American, and Indian Ancestry (I learned from Ancestry dot com). Lived mostly in Tennessee; I suppose that opportunities for his parents to meet came from a diverse labor force to build the railroads.
HAPPY THOMAS HIGGINSON DAY!
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Thylias Moss Writing 