How do you keep your stories “organized”? I mean, remembering side characters, visuals, background stories, connections…
What I'd really like to know is what do YOU like to read? How do you find satisfying reading stuff, when you have whole worlds in your head? Do you read completely different genres, or du you read m/m? And can you even do that without thinking at some point that you could do better?I almost exclusively read m/m romance. I occasionally read f/f too, if something really strikes my fancy. There are so many good books out there, I have no difficulty finding something to read. What's difficult is figuring out exactly what to read and find the time for it. I can read books from any kind of genre (contemporary, paranormal, fantasy, etc.), but I tend to read in the genre I write. When I'm writing contemporary, I read contemporary. If I switch over to read another genre it tends to motivate my own other-genre ideas. Yeah, sometimes I read books I don't enjoy so much and think that I could've certainly done this or that better, but who doesn't? There's also been many a time I've read a book and thought “I can never be as good as this!”, but then my characters speak to me and I get back into my own stories and suddenly it doesn't matter anymore, because everyone writes differently and everyone likes different things. My voice is not alike any other, and so I can only strive to write to the best of my ability.
How do you feel when it comes time to end the story? Sad? Happy? Relieved? It does depend on the story. Usually I tend to find stories hard to finish, so I tend to be struggling at the end and thus I feel relieved when I have ended it. It's bittersweet if I'm writing a single book that's not meant to have sequels, because that means this is the only time I'll write those characters. If I do write series, I tend to be happy at the end, because the book is finished, but also because this means I can continue on in the series.
Roar dropped down on the kitchen chair opposite Henning and proceeded to thump his forehead against the tabletop before bringing his hands up and resting his forehead on them.
“What’s wrong?” Henning asked, though he could probably tell. That specific reaction was a known thing to him; so known he shouldn’t even have to ask. However, by asking, Roar would spill it all, so it was quicker.
Henning could tell Roar glanced up at him, but kept his eyes on the newspaper he was reading. He always played nonchalant when these kinds of news came.
“I was dumped last night. Or, well, I suppose I was dumped.”
“You suppose?” Henning peeked over the newspaper at him and took in the slight grimace on Roar’s handsome face. His skin was constantly tanned, the complete opposite to Henning’s pale skin. Roar hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, so his cheeks and chin was covered in dark stubble. “How can you suppose you were dumped? Either you were or you weren’t. There’s nothing in-between.”
“Well, she was sucking faces with some other guy and when she saw me she flipped me the finger. I guess that qualifies as being dumped.” Roar thudded his forehead against the tabletop again. “Thoroughly.”
Henning hid his face behind the newspaper again to hide his quiet laughter. In fact, he had to restrain himself so he wouldn’t let loose.
When he was certain he had himself under control, he folded the newspaper together and leaned forward so he could stop Roar from hitting the table anymore. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Roar groaned and tilted his head slightly, resting his cheek on his forearm. He looked up at Henning, and Henning found himself mesmerized by those warm, brown eyes. As always, there was nothing new there.
“I hate women,” Roar proclaimed. “I’ve had nothing but trouble with them in all my twenty-three years. I simply detest them all.”
“Not all of them are like that,” Henning said, trying to be reasonable, even though he knew nothing about women as sexual partners. “But you do have a bad habit of getting into the wrong sorts of women.”
“I’m giving them up. I’m tired of always being used and then evilly dumped by them, every single time. I don’t need tits and pussy in my life when it only comes with so much drama.”
Henning smiled and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. “There is nothing special about women,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.
“Says the gay guy.” Roar fumbled with the edge of the tablecloth with his free hand. “Have you ever thought about switching lanes?”
Roar shrugged his shoulders, an awkward move with him lying halfway atop the table. “You’ve always had bad luck with your boyfriends. No one’s really lasted for long. So maybe the bad luck is trying to tell you something?”
Henning had to laugh. “No, man, I’ve never thought about switching so-called lanes. I can’t get it up for women. Believe me, I tried a couple of times in my teenage years, but nothing ever happened. I’m just … gay.”
“You don’t look gay though.”
“Excuse me?” Henning couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He and Roar had been friends since high school, and Roar had never had a problem with Henning being gay. It was never anything they talked about, except that time Henning had told him. It had just been something that was accepted between them.
“I don’t mean to be rude.” Roar sat up properly and looked at Henning in apology. “But some guys … You can tell from the way they talk or move that they’re gay. I can’t tell by looking at you that you prefer guys. You’re just a normal-looking guy.”
“Uh … thanks? I think.” Henning frowned, still confused at how suddenly such a conversation had come up between them.
Roar started fiddling with the tablecloth again. He actually seemed nervous, which confused Henning even more. “Anyway, I was thinking more about myself, maybe, when I said that …”
“What?” Henning scratched at the back of his neck, unable to follow the conversation.
“I have always had such bad luck with women. So, as I said to you, maybe that bad luck is trying to say something? I can’t be celibate for the rest of my life, but as I also said, I don’t need tits and pussy to be happy. At least I don’t think so.”
“Roar …” Henning’s frown deepened. “Would you just get to the point?”
Roar wasn’t looking at him. “I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time now. Maybe my bad luck with women is because I’ve been looking in the wrong places …” Roar licked his lips. “Maybe I’ve subconsciously sabotaged my relationships with women because what I really want is on the other side of the lane?”