Friday, August 16, 2013

Introducing my writing partner, LE Franks

I hope you enjoy the blog by LE. She's a great partner. Now we're working on book 2, or kind of working on it--at least in the early stages of working on it.

Wolves and Waves: Prodigal Wolf by LE Franks & Sara York

“How I met my partner” or “Stalking for Fun and Profit”

My faux-name is LE Franks, and I am (as of some time early Thursday morning) a published Author.  As it’s only been a little over a day, it still remains to be seen how successful or long-lived my writing career will be.  (Point in favor of longevity: Sara hasn’t killed me yet…but it’s early days.)

Which brings me to the ‘how’ of the title. How did lovely Sara York find herself tangled up with the likes of me? If you’re tired and need a quick exit from consciousness, you might find one in the form of my bio. (All author bios are tedious. It’s like that annoying essay you write for your SATs – no one wants to read them—much less write them, they represent nothing, and are required by everyone).

In my bio I imply that I sprung, fully formed as a writer after years away from the craft.  The truth of the matter is that when you’re 17 you have no sense of value when it comes to your gifts, you toss them out the car window while going ninety-miles an hour down the road, like so much wadded up burger wrappings.

In my case, I had an overly sensitive best friend who dreamed one day of becoming a writer.  And I was better (much). Which fried her shorts and sent my talent, hurtling back into space “from whence it came”.  (Who doesn’t want love more?)

Fast forward mumble mumble mumble years, and I now have a child on the heels of turning 13– and it suddenly flung me backwards in time, desperate to recover what I’d callowly tossed. Nice trick if it worked…. And yet? It really kinda did.

Those gifts we’re blessed with that we pee on, kick in the teeth, deny? They are like abused dogs, just waiting to lick the hand of their tormentors. The second I remembered I had talent, it was scratching at the door – begging to be let in. And once you issue that invitation, magic can happen if you just keep your eyes open.

And I did. And it did. And I met Sara York seven months later, in an Albuquerque casino. She was sitting on a hotel sofa waving around one of her books, offering it to the brave and novel-free, and I realized that I knew her. I’d read her books. She was on my kindle at that very minute. And I asked for it.

This time around, my talent wasn’t quite as stupid as it once was. It’s still learning to trust me, a little more cautious and less exuberant. And at some point during that week, my much neglected muse must have seen signs of life, or at least a life preserver – in the form of Ms. York. I still think voodoo or hypnosis was involved as well, as Sara has very kindly, very generously—and from that point on, not blocked me from Facebook, filed restraining orders, changed her phone number, and in fact, she has trusted me with her words, ideas, and characters. This is her livelihood. This is her world, and we’ve had so much fun writing in it together.  I can only imagine what she gets out of this partnership, but whatever it is, I’m certainly grateful for it.

PS. We wrote a whole book together. And it’s full of hot angsty men who occasionally shift into wolves, have sex with each other, and are surrounded by family and friends who love and annoy the piss out of them. Even the cranky ones we fell in love with. So. Damn. Much. Fun, Ms. York.  Thank you for being my writing partner and mentor.  (Hah! You have to edit this yourself. Bliss.) -LE

Here’s the link to Wolves & Waves: Prodigal Wolf on MLR Press: ARE Amazon  B&N

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