jgraeme2007 (jgraeme2007) wrote,
jgraeme2007
jgraeme2007

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All Adrien, All the Time

 Very briefly -- thank you all for the good wishes and advice on maintaining wrist health. It is much appreciated. I'm putting my time offline to mostly good use. I admit it's taken me a while to learn to work effectively in a shorter space. There seems to be a...Focus Factor.

A couple of you have commented on the new logo -- that was designed by the lovely and talented annecain.

Also, Reviews by Jessewave has done a surprisingly comprehensive overview of the Adrien English series -- offering dueling (well, not really) opinions from Anchorwoman Wave and Roving Reporter and Commentator Mary M.

I just want to say that I appreciate the obvious time and thought that went into this.  It's sort of encouraging as I slowly work my way through book four -- there's always that stage of writing where you wonder where the hell you came up with the idea that you had anything to say that anyone would want to hear. For me that stage starts at about Chapter Three. 

But we've heard me whine enough about rough drafts so I'll spare you -- and my wrists.

Also -- and thanks to lisabea for pointing this out because I'd totally missed it -- Thank You to Book Mom Utopia for her recent review of I Spy Something Bloody. I have to admit her response to Mark was similar to my editor's reaction to him (although happily not everyone feels this way). Anyway, I appreciate it. 

You know, I'm basically off the web these days, so...if I fail to acknowledge email or comments it's all about the wrists and nothing personal.

And for those of you looking forward to Adrien's next adventure, here's a snippet from DEATH OF A PIRATE KING.



He paused, staring down the hallway as though he expected to see me
still lying on the floor, could still hear the echo of smashing glass.

"Gooood times," I murmured. I kept walking towards the kitchen. I
didn't want to relive one minute of that memory. Or any of them.

"I…" I couldn't catch the rest of it. His voice was unexpectedly
husky.

I cut across in falsetto, "Love means never having to say you're
sorry."

Something in his silence made me wish I'd shut up.

"Nice to know all the defense mechanisms still work," he said mildly
at last.

"Better late than never."

Another loaded silence.


I stopped and faced him. Grimaced. "Shit. Sorry."

I didn't want to hear it. What was the point? What could he tell me
that I didn't actually know?

But I waited. He didn't say anything. And then just as my self-
control gave out and I was about to speak, he said flatly, "You're
going to find this funny. I had no idea how much I would miss you."

I swallowed hard. "Funny. Yeah."

"I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to have a real marriage.
I knew things would have to change between us. I just…didn't expect
to lose everything. I didn't intend to lose your friendship. Maybe
that seems pretty dense."

On a scale of one to ten with ten being solid bone from the eyes up?
Yep, a ten.

"You know what I think? I think you needed—wanted—to make a complete
break." I was able to say it without emotion maybe because I'd said
it to him so many times in my imagination. "You hated yourself for
being queer. I think you probably hate me too. Or did—when I was
part of what you hated about yourself."

He was shaking his head. "You don't know what you're talking about.
You were the only part of it that ever made it seem…okay. Sane."

It. It?

"Which tells you how crazy we both were. And even if you had wanted
to stay friends—which you didn't, whatever you tell yourself now—how
the hell long do you think we would have lasted as platonic pals?
How the hell long did it take you to dig out the whips and chains?
Maybe I don't understand your idea of real marriage."

He said angrily, "You're such an expert on commitment?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He said angrily, "What we had together was about a lot more than
fucking. We had a friendship. For chrissake, you were the only
person in the world I could be honest with."

"You weren't anymore honest with me than you were with anyone else."
I had no idea what we were actually arguing at this point, but I was
still hoping to draw blood. Then my heart tripped and started that
goddamned staggering three-legged run.

"Bullshit," Jake snarled. "No matter what you want to tell yourself
now—"

"You've been telling lies to other people for so long that you've
started telling them to yourself—" I had to stop to catch my breath.

The anger went from him just like that. "Are you okay?" he asked
quietly.

"Fucking-A. Jake, there's no point..." I had to stop again. "Let's
stick to talking murder." I turned, rested my hand briefly on the
wall. "Get yourself a beer. I need to use the john."

Tags: adrien english, reviews
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