I love dandelions

There, I said it. Now every lawn fanatic out there is going to get their knickers in a knot. Especially when I tell them that their obsessive quest for the perfect lawn needs to be stopped. Why?

Lawns use three times more water than corn does in America.

They require constant mowing, which uses gas or hydro

We poison our community with pesticides used to kill off insects, good and bad ones

We poison our community with herbicides to kill off everything but a single breed of cultivated grass.

We further pollute our already unclean water with fertilizers, artificial or natural it all runs off.

And why? So we can have a green carpet when you just as easily Astroturf it. You might as well, since that's what it looks like.

The biggest crime is this goes on even in parts of the country where water is always in short supply. But all that aside, why are people so obsessed with having a perfect, sterile mono-culture mat growing on their property? It supports no life, and what it does support, lawn owners spend millions of dollars killing it, along with any other insect, even the valuable ones. Pesticide makes no distinction. Don't people stop and think about what they are doing when they have to post signs all over their lawn to stay off it, it's toxic? Doesn't that ring any alarm bells?

Why can't we learn to love a rich, multi flora lawn filled with ground cover? I've seen spreads of small lavender flower as well as white, that would be lovely to look at, require minimal care and more than likely would take next to no water to survive. And dandelions. I defy anyone to look at a field filled with dandelions no to see how beautiful it is. There aren't many cultured plants that have that brilliant a shade of yellow. And if we did more of that sort of planting – really just encouraging them to grow – everybody would have a unique yard, that would also be home for other living things. There'd be no more daily watering needed, no using gas or electricity to mow everything to a uniform 2 inches of green desert. There'd also be no expense in buying seed, fertilizer or pesticides. Your kids could roll around on the lawn with no threat of being exposed to toxins of one kind or another. Ditto your pets.

On top of all that, you can eat them. I've seen dandelion leaves sold at the supermarket. They're great in salads, the flowers are sweet, you can make wine out of them too. And if you have pets like rabbits or other plants eaters, they'll consider them a delicacy. My rabbits loved dandelions and clover—another colorful lawn covering.

Pat Brown pens M/M crime fiction. Her L.A. series, featuring LAPD homicide detective David Eric Laine and his lover Christopher Bellamere, is currently undergoing major revisions which will come out over the next few months. Her frolicking gay romance MAN'S BEST FRIENDS will be out soon. Her other series with Santa Barbara Detective Alexander Spider and his lover Jason Zachary was recently re-released with new covers and revised content.

She is also the author of stand alone novels MEMORY OF DARKNESS, LYNX WOODS, FALL INTO THE NIGHT, and shorter pieces THE BEAR and PLACING OUT.

Her latest novel, LATIN BOYZ was recently released by AmberQuill Press. This novel represents the years I lived in Los Angeles and the years since in the path I've taken since leaving L.A. It's dark and tragic, but it's also filled with love and faith. It is by no means a standard romance novel. Rather, it deals with strong characters who have to fight to find both safety and love that some call wrong. Come and see for yourself

... beautifully written, a solid, well-crafted story given life with all your LA street and police smarts, and an incredibly satisfying

read. I can't say how, but I think your writing got deeper emotionally in this book...  this book was a feast -- Lloyd Meeker

This is my newest and possibly darkest novel. if you like your romance with a dark edge, then LATIN BOYZ is just the fix you need.  Pushing the envelope on romance. Enter a world of violence where the only thing worth holding onto is your family.

BLURB

Twenty-one year old Gabe will do anything to keep his family safe from the Locusts XIII Crew, a Cypress Park gang, especially his 14-year-old sister Nattie. In Gabe's struggle to keep his small, fragile family safe, he meets LAPD patrol officer Alejandro Cerveras and must come to terms with his attraction to him--and decide whether to believe his Church’s teachings or what his heart tells him. Then tragedy strikes, fueling his rage. As the need for vengeance drives him past all reason, violence and hatred erupt between Gabe and the gangbangers, spiraling out of control, leading to tragedy and the greatest loss of all.

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EXCERPT

Thanksgiving, Cypress Park, South-Central Los Angeles

P-Bull swung the thugged-out Buick onto Merced Street.

Sadboy shoved the barrel of his gun out the car window. "Gonna get us a piece of White Fence ass," he screamed. "Bang, bang. Fucking lame-ass chuntaros!"

"I'm down with it." P-Bull jacked a load into his Raven and checked the sight. Beside him Sadboy rocked and grinned and waved the chrome around. Happy as a shitbird. "Don't go shooting your ass off, mijo." 

P-Bull knew this street. He grew up here. He rolled past yards he'd spilled blood in years ago, before the Locusts jumped him in. Down the street little kids played some little kid game, making noise. Old chocho pushed a lawn mower and spit grass all over his skinny legs. The puta, Gabe's mother, and his sister, Nattie, came out of the house beside the White Fence crib. That little girl gettin' all grown up. Gonna have to pay her a visit soon. That sweet little fox about ready to meet a real man.

"There he is!" Sadboy shouted when a scrawny boy P-Bull recognized as Ruiz, the new White Fence banger, came out of the house. Sadboy bounced on the Buick's seat, waving his chrome around. P-Bull was gonna tell him to cool it when the fool opened fire. He yipped and hollered while he sprayed the front of the houses with brass. "The White Fence pussy ocho make a run for it."

P-Bull lit in a second later, blowing the running man down. Gabe's mother ducked. Her and Gabe's sister went down in a tangle, the girl's fine strong legs in the air for everyone to see. Man, he had to get a taste of that.

"Where you from now!" Sadboy screamed. He punched P-Bull's shoulder. "Lay it down."

P-Bull stared at the front yard where the old woman and daughter lay sprawled on the ground. "Later, Sancha." 

Gabe flew down the stairs. From half a block away, P-Bull laughed. When the man who had once been his best friend screamed and fell to his knees beside his mother, P-Bull's lip curled.

"Balless coward, should go back and cap your ass." Before he could act on the thought and throw the Buick into reverse, a black and white, followed by another, screamed around the corner. P-Bull slipped the Raven under his belt.

Sadboy grew so excited, P-Bull thought sure he'd start firing out the car window again like Clint Eastwood as some baddass cop. P-Bull reached over and clipped the back of Sadboy's head.

"Idiot, you lookin' to get 5-0 after us? Put that away."

Sadboy sullenly did, glowering at the dashboard.

P-Bull slipped the car into first, driving slowly, to avert 5-0's attention.

He cranked the music up, rocking to words about killing cops and banging whores. His hand slapped against the car door in beat to the rap; his shaved head bobbed.

All the time he watched the activity behind him.

The cops swarmed out of their cars. One checked Ruiz, then spoke into his shoulder mic. The others approached Gabe, guns coming out when Gabe stared at them blankly, not reacting to to them and what they were probably telling him to do. 

P-Bull couldn't hear the words but he knew what was coming. Gabe ignored 5-0 and crawled over to his sister, cradling her in his arms. P-Bull watched to see if she was alive. Be a pity if she died before she got to meet him. 

Both cops screamed and drew closer to the kneeling man.

Even from the slowly moving car, P-Bull could see the blood on both Gabe and his sister. He howled with laughter when one cop, female, finally proned Gabe out, yanked his hands behind his back. She hauled him, his face and T-Shirt soaked in crimson, to the curb and stuffed him in the back of a cruiser.

"Don't need to cap his ass." P-Bull threw his head back and laughed. "5-0 do it for us." 

With the cops; attention somewhere else, he turned the car down a narrow alley to Pepper Street, getting clear of the streets before 5-0 started looking around for suspects. Not that they'd look too hard. It was just brown barrio chollos lying on the ground.

Once on Cypress, P-Bull laughed and punched down on the gas, spewing oily smoke and burnt rubber when they left Pepper. They circled back, passing Merced where cops and ambulances turned the street into a carnival of lights.

P-Bull didn't hear any sirens following them while they fled to Eagle Rock, looking to chase some dragon.

""Takin' care of business," he said and knuckled Sadboy. "Right on. Locusts rule!"

"Fuckin' A." Sadboy giggled. "You see that cabrão go down? Fuck White Fence."

"Fuck 'em all."

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Have you ever noticed....

I've watched just about every killer swarm movies, giant animal movies and monsters from space movies (also including killer machines, but this blog isn't about them) and I noticed something about them. All these horrific creatures, be they dinosaurs, rabid dogs, Great White sharks, giant worms or spiders all they do is ravage and kill their hapless victims. But even though they're all carnivores, they never eat what they kill. They just go from victim to victim, kill, then move on. So, are they monsters because they act like humans who kill for now reason? 

But what irritates me the most is the way 90% of monster movies end. The survivors happily walk away from whatever swarming monster was threatening them. They may look a bit disheveled, maybe a bandage or cast from their travails, but alive. Hosanna. Then the camera pans away from them and the last frame of the movie is—wait for it—one of “Insert monster here” is alive. A single bee, or wasp or spider or ant is seen emerging from the smoke and rubble, wriggling antennas and clearly ready to take up the torch. And these creatures are never just ordinary animals, they usually have enhanced venom or aggression or something.

In the movie The Mummy, with Brenden Frasier, we see the flesh-eating scarabs eat a poor, hapless victim right to the bone in seconds. If this is so, why is the mummy in the sealed coffin still largely intact?

In the Deep Blue Sea, we meet a genetically engineered shark that is supposedly as smart as a man. Dire warnings are thrown around once this is discovered and the hero announces that this is the greatest living predator in the world. A clear threat to the human population. Hello. Water. Sharks live in water. Humans live on dry land. Are they going to sink the 10 thousand ton freighters or passenger ships that carry people above the water?

I love Jurassic Park—the original one—but Malcolm used to drive me crazy with his stupid pronouncements. Warning that all the scientists just stood on the shoulders of great men and could never have done this cloning thing without that knowledge. Hello again. All science is built on what has been done before. Is he suggesting every researcher must re invent the wheel over and over again to legitimate their findings? Einstein would never have discovered his various theories without Newton or Gallileo. 

Malcolm -- and don't get me wrong, I adore Jeff Goldblum—was always spouting off just like the idiot in Deep Blue Sea. We had unleashed an unstoppable plague of monsters that had been chosen for extinction. Chosen for extinction? Is he suggesting the whole asteroid thing was planned? By who? Any way you look at it, dinosaurs were a heck of a lot more successful than we have by millions of years. 

I know it's a suspension of disbelief thing, but sometimes they stretch my suspension to the breaking point. What about you, what bugs you in movies or TV? Tell me in a comment and I'll enter your name into a draw to win an ebook any of my backlist currently available.

Bio

At 22 years of age, P. A. Brown's life changed forever when she sold everything she owned and moved 2,000 miles away to a city she'd never visited, where she knew no one and where she was definitely not prepared. Coming from a sheltered life, she spent the next eight years doing her own wild and crazy thing and managed to survive. In retrospect, she now realizes her family was right. She was insane. Which of course made her fit in perfectly. She roamed the good and bad streets of Los Angeles, doing things that in retrospect were probably downright idiotic. Knowing nothing about the city she made the brilliant decision to get a cheap apartment. She found one, in the heart of a crime-ridden section of Hollywood, one she later found out was called a war zone by the LAPD. There were stabbings and shootings and assaults every weekend. Thus was her introduction to life in a big American city. She revisited lately and found the entire area gentrified. Almost all of her favourite haunts were gone. Only the Frolic Room remained.

Most of her time in L.A. was spent in the underbelly of the city, including a month living out of a car. She visited Skid Row, spent time on the streets of Hollywood, and befriended a bartender who was killed after she went home with a customer. And you wonder why she writes crime novels? During the 80s, P. A. saw the advent of a terrible disease no one understood that became known as AIDS. Being immersed in the gay community, P. A. knew a lot of people who died in those days. For a brief period, she was even a "Valley Girl," living within spitting distance of the famous Sherman Oaks Galleria. Does she miss it? Every minute of every day.

LATIN BOYZ is my newest and possibly darkest novel. if you like your romance with a dark edge, then LATIN BOYZ is just the fix you need.  Pushing the envelope on romance.

BLURB

Twenty-one year old Gabe will do anything to keep his family safe from the Locusts XIII Crew, a Cypress Park gang, especially his 14-year-old sister Nattie. In Gabe's struggle to keep his small, fragile family safe, he meets LAPD patrol officer Alejandro Cerveras and must come to terms with his attraction to him--and decide whether to believe his Church’s teachings or what his heart tells him. Then tragedy strikes, fueling his rage. As the need for vengeance drives him past all reason, violence and hatred erupt between Gabe and the gangbangers, spiraling out of control, leading to tragedy and the greatest loss of all.


Excerpt:



Thanksgiving, Cypress Park, South-Central Los Angeles


P-Bull swung the thugged-out Buick onto Merced Street.


Sadboy shoved the barrel of his gun out the car window. "Gonna get us a piece of White Fence ass," he screamed. "Bang, bang. Fucking lame-ass chuntaros!"


"I'm down with it." P-Bull jacked a load into his Raven and checked the sight. Beside him Sadboy rocked and grinned and waved the chrome around. Happy as a shitbird. "Don't go shooting your ass off, mijo." 


P-Bull knew this street. He grew up here. He rolled past yards he'd spilled blood in years ago, before the Locusts jumped him in. Down the street little kids played some little kid game, making noise. Old chocho pushed a lawn mower and spit grass all over his skinny legs. The puta, Gabe's mother, and his sister, Nattie, came out of the house beside the White Fence crib. That little girl gettin' all grown up. Gonna have to pay her a visit soon. That sweet little fox about ready to meet a real man.


"There he is!" Sadboy shouted when a scrawny boy P-Bull recognized as Ruiz, the new White Fence banger, came out of the house. Sadboy bounced on the Buick's seat, waving his chrome around. P-Bull was gonna tell him to cool it when the fool opened fire. He yipped and hollered while he sprayed the front of the houses with brass. "The White Fence pussy ocho make a run for it."


P-Bull lit in a second later, blowing the running man down. Gabe's mother ducked. Her and Gabe's sister went down in a tangle, the girl's fine strong legs in the air for everyone to see. Man, he had to get a taste of that.


"Where you from now!" Sadboy screamed. He punched P-Bull's shoulder. "Lay it down."


P-Bull stared at the front yard where the old woman and daughter lay sprawled on the ground. "Later, Sancha." 


Gabe flew down the stairs. From half a block away, P-Bull laughed. When the man who had once been his best friend screamed and fell to his knees beside his mother, P-Bull's lip curled.


"Balless coward, should go back and cap your ass." Before he could act on the thought and throw the Buick into reverse, a black and white, followed by another, screamed around the corner. P-Bull slipped the Raven under his belt.


Sadboy grew so excited, P-Bull thought sure he'd start firing out the car window again like Clint Eastwood as some baddass cop. P-Bull reached over and clipped the back of Sadboy's head.


"Idiot, you lookin' to get 5-0 after us? Put that away."


Sadboy sullenly did, glowering at the dashboard.


P-Bull slipped the car into first, driving slowly, to avert 5-0's attention.


He cranked the music up, rocking to words about killing cops and banging whores. His hand slapped against the car door in beat to the rap; his shaved head bobbed.


All the time he watched the activity behind him.


The cops swarmed out of their cars. One checked Ruiz, then spoke into his shoulder mic. The others approached Gabe, guns coming out when Gabe stared at them blankly, not reacting to to them and what they were probably telling him to do. 


P-Bull couldn't hear the words but he knew what was coming. Gabe ignored 5-0 and crawled over to his sister, cradling her in his arms. P-Bull watched to see if she was alive. Be a pity if she died before she got to meet him. 


Both cops screamed and drew closer to the kneeling man.


Even from the slowly moving car, P-Bull could see the blood on both Gabe and his sister. He howled with laughter when one cop, female, finally proned Gabe out, yanked his hands behind his back. She hauled him, his face and T-Shirt soaked in crimson, to the curb and stuffed him in the back of a cruiser.


"Don't need to cap his ass." P-Bull threw his head back and laughed. "5-0 do it for us." 


With the cops; attention somewhere else, he turned the car down a narrow alley to Pepper Street, getting clear of the streets before 5-0 started looking around for suspects. Not that they'd look too hard. It was just brown barrio chollos lying on the ground.


Once on Cypress, P-Bull laughed and punched down on the gas, spewing oily smoke and burnt rubber when they left Pepper. They circled back, passing Merced where cops and ambulances turned the street into a carnival of lights.


P-Bull didn't hear any sirens following them while they fled to Eagle Rock, looking to chase some dragon.


""Takin' care of business," he said and knuckled Sadboy. "Right on. Locusts rule!"


"Fuckin' A." Sadboy giggled. "You see that cabrão go down? Fuck White Fence."


"Fuck 'em all."

For more information on P. A. Brown, please visit her website and a list of available backlist at: Web site

You Made It

Unpublished writers focus on getting that first book published. It's like a mountain that needs to be climbed, but once you reach the top you've made it. You've passed into that magic land of published authors. Your years of rejections are over. You're vindicated to all the naysayers in your life.

You made it. You're a published author.

Now put down the champagne, box up the chocolates. That mountain you thought you scaled turns out to be a foothill. Unless you are satisfied with having one book published and have no desire or interest in doing another, your career as a writer has just begun.

It can be daunting. Suddenly you're being told you have to promote your newly published book. You need a web page, a blog, a Facebook account, Twitter... to start. Many of these should be put in place before you get that first contract. Not only is it a good way to start promoting yourself, but it will cut down on the things you suddenly have to do yesterday when the publisher says we want your book.

You may be encouraged to join writing groups in your genre. Sisters in Crime, Crime Writers of Canada, Romance Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, Science Fiction Writers of America, International Thriller Writers and the Historical Novel Society cover most of the genres.

Yahoo has a huge number of writing related groups. I recommend joining Yahoo and searching for groups you think would interest you. Two I would recommend no matter what genre you write, are: Publishing Trove, which is for authors, publishers, agents and promotional groups, and: 

Announce Online Writing Class an excellent resource for online classes, and I highly recommend that writer's of all levels take classes. There are many that are very reasonable.

But wait. You should set up readings and signings at as many bookstores as you can contact, and no, your publisher will not pay to send you anywhere. Going to genre specific conferences are another good thing to do. I recommend them even for non-published authors. Many of them have workshops and you make invaluable contacts, including agents and editors. Once you're published, go to conferences and try to get on panels. Again it's networking.

Your mantra now must be promote, promote, promote and write, write, write.

Authors these days don't have years, or even months between publications. To have any kind of real success these days, you have to produce. A lot.

Pat Brown, author of 12 novels and several short stories and novellas has been published since 2006. Since that time she has attended numerous conferences, her favorites being the Left Coast Crime. As well, she regularly takes online classes to improve her writing. She'd take in person classes, but there are never any held in her area.

Her newest book, LATIN BOYZ, will be released by Amber Quill in February. It's one of her most ambitious novels yet, a story about a young Latino man in the barrios of East Los Angeles who faces hardships both as he tries to protect his family and struggle to come to terms with his homosexuality and attraction to an LAPD patrol officer.

Visit her Web Site

And her Blog

Are you in the Closet Abut Reading Gay Fiction?

Greetings all at Sweet and Sexy!

Once again, this is Rawiya aka Michael Mandrake, BLMorticia, otherwise known as the multi-personality author or the confused one. If you like, we can just call me crazy. I don’t mind.

*grins*

Today, I’m blogging about being in the closet or on the down low about reading gay fiction. I’d like to thank, fellow gay fiction author, Christopher Koehler for this idea since it came up in the recent interview I did with him just last weekend.

Are you, as readers, ashamed to admit you enjoy gay fiction or erotica? Does it bother you that you have it in your library? I’m wondering because there are a lot of people out there with opinions or valid reasons and since I’m one of the authors contributing to the Its Raining Men blog, I decided to bring it up.

Recently on one of our blog posts, we had a commenter say she wouldn’t be able to join the Facebook IRM page because her friends or friends of friends not liking the fact she reads gay fiction. In other words, she was concerned that she’d receive even more flack if the page profile showed up on her personal page.

Now, let me preface this by saying I will not get into anyone’s personal business by getting involved in discussions between friends or relatives. However, I’m miffed as to why what you read would bother someone that claims to care about you.

Here’s another example. Does it bother those same people that you read Steven King, who often writes stories about murders, horror, and such or are they concerned about the vampire stories by Anne Rice who have homosexual overtones?

Again, it’s only an opinion but I really would love to understand why someone would be offended by what you read. DO they think you’ll become gay by reading it? *laughs* OH SHUDDER. Will you become a psychopath by reading Carrie? Hope not!

Why is it when we talk of something unacceptable by friends or family, it involves the gay community? The bottom line is, the hetero women, married ones especially, love gay fiction! In the few days that we’ve ran the IRM blog, the majority of visitors to our Facebook are women. UNREAL right? It shows up on our insights. Yep, Facebook is following you! Gay writings are very “hip” these days. And the number of female gay fiction romance authors and readers increases by leaps and bounds everyday which means lots of ladies love it. Why be ashamed? Why let your friends dictate what you are and what you enjoy? In my opinion, they aren’t people who care about you but again, that’s only my opinion.

Even if this were true in my case, I wouldn’t allow my friends or family tell me what to read or write. My mom is a Jehovah’s Witness and is very aware that I read and write gay fiction. So is my husband, my 12 year old son, and my little brother. My friends are my fans, even those who don’t read gay romance. Do they understand that I read and write it? Probably not. Do I care? NO!

I’m sure this blog will piss a lot of people off but the bottom line is, everyone has their own thoughts and these are mine. I’m sure a lot of people who write and read SNSD aren’t into gay fiction or m/m but as a writer, the internet, specifically blogs, is a perfect place to express our thoughts. In no way is my intention to change anyone’s mind, only to invoke conversation.

So, in closing, how do you feel about it? Are you hiding your enjoyment of gay fiction? Are you concerned about what your family and friends think about our choice? If so, why? Your enjoyment is your pleasure. It shouldn’t have to be hidden. You are your own person and should be able to like what you like.

Now go out there and support your gay fiction authors. *laughs* I’m joking. Do what you feel you need to but, in my opinion, you should “come out” from under the cover’s ladies and gentlemen because no one should be able to steer you away from the simple pleasures you enjoy.

Live your life for you!

Thank you SNSD for having me once again. All comments are welcome!

*book pictured is Rock and Roll Over in print.

Available at http://starbookspress.com, Amazon, and B & N