Showing posts with label A Piece of Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Piece of Me. Show all posts

Thursday, April 14, 2016

A Piece of Me: Monthly Feature ~ A Piece of Karin by Karin Pike


Diverse Reader's monthly feature A Piece of Me gives artistic people a place to share something about themselves. We've had some incredible people as our feature bloggers. This month I have a fellow blogger, author, and creative genius. It's a real pleasure to have Karin Pike here this month. I've known her for years and she's a remarkable person. So here she is sharing a piece of herselfe, with you.







 A Piece of Karin

Hi folks! My name is Karin, though most people know me better under the name ‘naelany’, which is the name I write fan fiction under, as well as what I use on most social networks. Meredith did a guest post on my blog (here, in case you missed it) last month and asked if I wanted to give it a shot, so here I am!

*clears throat* Okay, so I’m supposed to stick to one topic. I promise to do my best ;-)

Like I said earlier, I write fan fiction. In fact, it is through that medium that Meredith and I met (how many years ago now? I forget. A while, let’s leave it at that). To put a finer point on it, we met through Twilight fan fiction (hush, I don’t want to hear it). When the movie came out (yes, I was lured by the movie before I ever read the books), it came at a time in my life where… well, I wasn’t doing so well. The books helped me through a time where I was, quite honestly, depressed and hurting. I won’t go into the why - those that know me well enough will already know, and the rest of you, well, it really isn’t any of your business.

As I mentioned, the movie lured me into the books, and it eventually led me to fan fiction, because I needed more. I needed to explore the characters. To see the things that were ‘wrong’ to me, fixed. And I needed the crutch (for lack of a better term) to help me crawl out of the depression. Luckily, I found it in the fandom. At first, through reading. Mostly Edward/Bella stories, but eventually branching out to other pairings, and my introduction to slash fiction.

And that is where I ended up really finding my niche, so to speak. I got bitten by a bunny that would not let up. I’d never written before in my life - well, not for fun. The only times I’d ever written anything was back in school for assignments, and each and every time I’d gotten shot down for my efforts and told by my teachers (and, of course, fellow students) that I could not write to save my life. In short, I sucked at it. Badly.

Myeah, as you can imagine, hearing that at a very young age does not tend to make for confidence in your abilities, so I never really took it anywhere. Until At the Deep End bit me, and bit me hard. The story wouldn’t let me go and eventually I caved and started writing. Go ahead, take a look. Here’s a short summary:

After an encounter at camp many years ago Jasper thought he would never see Edward again but little did he know who his new teammate would turn out to be…….

Warning: mention of abuse. Violence. Hate speech.

My very first foray into writing, and boy howdy, can you ever tell. Still, I’m refusing to change anything about it, because it’s my baby and it’s grown right along with me, as I’m sure you can tell once you start reading. At least, I hope you can ;-)

After At the Deep End, more stories followed. Most of them within the M/M genre, but also a few others. I stuck with Twilight for a long time. Yes, there’s a couple of unfinished stories still lingering that I fully intend to come back to, but it’s not something I’m currently able to do much about. Life has happened, fandom has happened (trust me, it’s all well and good, but as much as fandom has helped me through things and I’ve met some really great people through it, it can also be an ugly place). I’ve not given up, however.

I have expanded to other fandoms. In fact, Stargate Atlantis is what got me back into writing after a very long break, and I haven’t really stopped since. Well, I take a lot of breaks, but there’s always something brewing. I just choose to no longer share anything unless it is completely finished and ready to post. A lesson I learned the hard way, but I learned it.

Hmm… I’m not sure there’s really much more to tell, without getting into different topics, so I’ll leave it at this. If you want to read my stories, you can find them here on my blog, or on Archive of Our Own.

Thanks for having me, Meredith! It’s been fun :-)



















Tuesday, March 15, 2016

A Piece of Me: ZB Heller ~Guest Post~ I am a Loser



I am very excited to have Z.B. Heller as my guest today for my monthly feature, A Piece of Me. As you know this is a feature on Diverse Reader where an artist of some sort writes up a post. This post literally is what the title says, a piece of themselves. Sometimes they are serious moments, sometimes they are a funny tale. Either way, it's an honor to have them here and sharing a part of their soul with us.

So, ZB. She's an incredible author, and funny funny funny. If you've had the privilege of speaking with her than you know.

Okay, so, get comfy and enjoy ZB's piece...



I AM A LOSER


Great way to start this isn’t it? You’re sitting there, drinking your cup of coffee, or vodka and think “Hey, I get to read about this author who’s a total self proclaimed loser!” Don’t worry, there is a reason it starts that way, so sit down, get comfy and turn off Maury, because he’s NOT the father.

It begins that way because I started my life that way. There I was an eighteen-year-old with stars in her eyes of wanting to become a famous chef.  I used to sit in front of the television for hours watching the Frugal Gourmet. This was before he turned out to be a creepy douche, but I was dreaming of the days I would make gastronomic masterpieces that would make your mouth orgasm in delight. I wasn’t much of anything in high school, shocking I know, and honestly no one, except for my parents, expected me to make anything great out of my life. I was a loser remember?

I made it through six months of culinary school before I was told by one of the asshole chefs that I sucked and had no business being there. He didn’t even say it in some cool French accents that you see in cartoons. I went home, tail tucked between my legs and had no clue as to what to do next because cooking was my dream. I was an encrusted lamb roast of a loser.

I spent some time at a community college, where I made some really great friends and became involved with the school newspaper. (Foreshadowing?) It was called The Chronicle. I wrote a few stories here and there, and over time became interested in the graphic design aspect of how everything was assembled for publishing. There were late nights spent in the newspaper office, making out with my then boyfriend, running throughout the empty school and belting out Evita from the second story balcony, all the while trying to make our deadlines. I was a musical loving loser.

I eventually transferred schools to study graphic design. Art was my original passion and this was a chance to make it flourish, but something wasn’t right. Imagine a kind of blind date as an adult and he calls his mom while at the table to tell her he’ll be home late. I remember doing a presentation and nailing the project perfectly. The teacher pulled me aside and said, “Zolie, I don’t know if you’re cut out for graphic design, but have you ever thought about a career in teaching?” Apparently, I was a great presenter, but sucky graphic designer. That same semester I left that school. I was a photoshopped loser.

Eventually I did find my calling. After eight years, yes eight, I graduated with a teaching degree with a minor in art education.  After some time searching, I found what I will still say was the best job I had up to that time teaching art to kindergarten through eighth grade. The good news is that none of my students sought out therapy because of me.  My husband and had been married for two years by that point and wanted to start a family. It was then I found out I wouldn’t be able to carry a child and experience pregnancy. I was an un-fertile Myrtle loser.

After extensive discussion and reflection my husband and I opted to use a surrogate to carry our child for us. We were lucky in that we were matched with a true angel. I have paperwork in with the Vatican to name her a saint, a knight or have a country named after her. She helped bring our beautiful boy into the world. I always tease that it was her labor of love, except no labor. But it was after that that I had to make the choice not to work full time and raise our son during early childhood.

But needing something intelligent to do between the feedings, naps and diapers, I went back for a master’s degree in art therapy. Three years of endless work and papers my poor husband helped to edit proved to be the wrong direction. It was 2009, the Great Recession and my husband had lost his job. He was unemployed for nine months, while I struggled through the end of grad school, it was time to make some very hard choices. Our lives were abruptly turned upside down when he got a job in a different state and for six months we lived in two states while I finished school and he worked. I was in the middle of doing my art therapy practicum when my son fell ill with a mysterious fever every twenty-eight days. I failed my practicum. I was a graduate degree loser.

We finally reunited and moved, and I finished my schooling, but because of the poor job market teaching jobs and art therapy positions were nowhere to be found. While it was tempting to work at Baskin Robins for free ice cream cones, I decided to combine my two loves of art and teaching. BEHOLD! I opened a business of teaching art as an after school activity. At first it was great, but market circumstances changed and I lost a lot most of my business. After some stress, drinking, anger, drinking, and over-consuming of cheesy poofs, I decided to close the business down. I was cheesy sticky fingered loser.

It was during this stressful time I decided to write down some ideas. I started writing a story, similar but not entirely based on myself. I used the one tool I knew I had in my arsenal and that was humor. The character of Moxie was a size sixteen redhead with a crass attitude and took shit from no one, but inside she felt like she was…are you ready for it? A fat loser.

I hit the “Publish” button in May 2014 with no expectations whatsoever, and to my astonishment, people became quite fond of my loud mouth heroine along with all of her insecurities. I wrote a follow up to that book and then along the way found my passion in the M/M genre. Writing Tied Together meant a great deal to me. Even though it was about two men, they both have pieces of me buried deep within. I didn’t know how it would go when I hit that “Publish” button, but again to my amazement Tied Together took off and I planted my foot into the M/M community, and have come to love the characters as much as my readers.

I look back at all I have just written and come to a very important conclusion. I’ve had so many experiences in different places, different career fields, different geographies, different relationships (good and bad) and all of these things are what make the heart beat in my characters. So, for all of those times I thought I was a loser, I was in fact the biggest winner.




About the Author

As a little girl it was always a dream for Z.B. Heller to become She-Ra Princess of Power. Since this dream was unobtainable, she spent what was probably way to long in college trying to "find herself". Becoming an artist scratched the creative itch until the stories in her head were getting to be to loud for her to get anything else accomplished. She lives in St. Louis with her husband, son and Flemish Giant rabbit Chloe. In her spare time she likes to read, stalk celebrities on Twitter and create the type of art that people scratch their heads about.

The Chronicles of Moxie is Z.B. Heller's debut novel.












Monday, February 15, 2016

A Piece of Me: C.S. Poe ~Monthly Feature



A Piece of Me is my monthly feature on Diverse Reader where a creative person (author, artist, musician, whatever) shares something about themselves. It can be a story from their childhood, a recipe and what it meant to them, someone they hold dear, anything at all. It's always such a treat when I ask someone and they say yes because it means they are willing to not only share a piece of themselves, but they are willing to do it here.

This month I have author C.S. Poe.  This is such a sweet and awesome post and I'm sure you'll all love it!





The Bike


Once upon a time I used to live in Japan, and I taught English at a relatively small, really out of the way, middle school. So much out of the way it was nearly in the next town and I typically got home forty minutes after my fellow ALT instructors. I biked to school, taking all the shortcuts known to mankind, which included going past an ancient family plot and through some cabbage fields in order to keep my trek at about three miles one way. (I am not a person who enjoys exercise.)

One week I started to feel sort of sick but figured I'd caught some cruddy cold from the kids. It escalated really fast and before I knew it, I had a fever of 103 and my throat was so swollen I looked like I was storing nuts for the oncoming winter. I got permission from the school secretary to leave early and go to the hospital before they closed.

Because here's the thing about Japan I was not prepared for. The hospital is where you go when you’ve got the sniffles! And unlike America, the hospitals close. Like a business. My town's was opened nine to five, and closed on the weekend! So I had to hurry, because if I wanted medicine and possibly the next day off, I had to have a doctor's note to prove I was dying. (I certainly felt that I was, at least.)

I hopped on my bike and left in a rush, steering one-handed while navigating the route on my phone with the other. Somewhere between the center of my neighborhood and the hospital nearly ten miles away, it started to rain. As if the fever and vigorous biking wasn't enough, now I was wet and cold. But I thought, Hey... I'm almost there, I'll be okay.

That's when I blew the tire on my bike. 

I was alone, in the rain, half delirious, on the side of the freeway with a flat. In those moments of insanity, I think I started laughing. It's difficult to remember. I considered leaving the bike and just walking the rest of the way, but I wouldn't have made it to the hospital in time. I called one of the contacts at my company in an act of desperation. 

She had a car. She could help.

Except she was at the office in Omiya, and I was in Koga and she'd have needed Star Trek warp speed to get to me. So I hung up, squared my shoulders, got on my bike, and finished the last five miles on a flat.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.... The entire way.

Good news is, I got medicine for tonsillitis and a note to stay home the next day! That wasn’t my only bad experience with the bike-from-hell, but it was by far the funniest. (After the fact, of course.) I now fondly hold onto that memory, because it keeps life in perspective. Never let a bad day sour your mood. At least you’re not riding a bike with a flat in the rain while sick, amirite?
May you always find love in the end!

-C.S. Poe





Author Bio

C.S. Poe is an author of gay mystery and romance. She lives in New York City, but has called a host of different locations home in the past, most recently being Ibaraki, Japan. She has an affinity for all things cute and colorful. C.S. is an avid fan of coffee, reading, and cats, in no particular order. C.S. Poe can be followed on her website, www.cspoe.com, for more information.
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/C.S.-Poe/e/B00YNHOV4W/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_1