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Emmi Lawrence

~ MM Fantasy Romance Writer

Emmi  Lawrence

Tag Archives: long-reads

Canvas Blues – LXIX: Yesteryears

19 Wednesday May 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Fantasy, fantasy adventure, fantasy fiction, Fiction, gay romance, long-reads, M/M, mm romance, Mystery, Novel, prose, writer, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXIX: Yesteryears

The ski trip—which logically should have been called a snowboarding trip—flew past in a flurry of snowdrifts and Valentine decorations. Brendon didn’t even think Casey noticed Robbie missing that Friday in February, too busy finding temporarily abandoned construction zones to park at during dark hours. For the first time in his life looking to stand still rather than go roaring off down the road—at least in a literal sense, because figuratively, Casey was always ready to go.

They spent those first few months in a mess of stained clothing and sweaty skin. The scent of that backseat turning from a mix of cheap strawberry air freshener, motor oil and cigarettes, to musk and pheromones and french onion dip and tacos because they’d get hungry between and find themselves at the grocery store at eleven or a drive-through for fourth meal.

The pictures under Brendon’s mattress grew lonely. The furrows on Casey’s brow smoothed out.

They did everything and then did everything again in different positions. They drank too much on race sidelines and dodged heavy drugs by virtue of being too caught up in one another to care about the baggies being passed hand-to-hand. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXVIII: Present

12 Wednesday May 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Fantasy, fantasy adventure, Fiction, gay romance, long-reads, M/M, mm romance, murder mystery, Mystery, Novel, prose, Short Fiction, writer, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXVIII: Present

She’d been twenty-six. In the ground now these last eight years at St. Thomas next to her grandmother. Her obituary claimed she’d drown in her family’s home. They didn’t say bathroom or kitchen or Jacuzzi. They didn’t say saltwater. But Brendon remembered the painting he’d completed for the Yert family…eight years ago. Same year Robbie had gotten back from his European backpacking trip.

Marylanders and their crabs.

“It’d been another bayscape. I do a lot of them. Locals like it. Sort of a claim, part of what culture we have.” He swallowed and took another gulp of the whiskey Orion had brought when he’d arrived on Brendon’s doorstep. “Been on a few postcards,” he added. “Don’t know if they sell.”

Orion poured another few fingers and sat back in the armchair. The room felt tiny and tight, all the walls too full of drawings and sketches and work. Yet he didn’t seem to mind. He sat, larger than God and as ambiguous in his blessings. The small world of Brendon Kotes his to play in.

That might have been an unfair observation. A good painting though.

“That particular commission came from Katherine Yert. She took me into her guest bathroom—huge room, bigger than my apartment—and showed me the decor, wanted me to match the shades exactly. Quite particular so I took photos and copious notes even though it made the painting a tad more teal than would be right. Though, I guess that’s a matter of perspective.”

“What is it that makes you think Evelyn Yert drown because of your painting?”

Brendon hesitated. “She’s… She was…” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXII: Present

31 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Canvas Blues, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXII: Present

They walked the downtown streets. Brendon waited patiently—mostly patiently—while Orion peeked into shop windows and made inane, yet safe comments on their contents.

“What’s this one then? A gallery. ‘Local Artisans.’ A lot of crabs, I see. Marylanders seem to like their crabs. Always blue ones.”

“You’d rather dead ones?”

At the caustic tone, Orion cast him a glance, but didn’t engage with a response. “And here we’ve got herbal remedies for the soul and spirit,” read Orion off one of the plaques in the next window.

He put the last of his ice cream into his mouth and tossed the cup into the trashcan that sat at the base of the banner pole behind them. Then took his painting from Brendon with a nod of thanks.

“Rosemary for remembrance and yarrow root for protection. Should I buy you a bundle of dried herbs to hang in your studio?”

“I’d rather a coffee.”

“In this heat?”

Brendon lifted his gaze heavenward for a moment. “Why are you here?” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXI: Yesteryears

24 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Canvas Blues, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXI: Yesteryears

Freshman year waxed long with changes, from Casey’s arrest, to Becks sudden conservative behavior, to Robbie and Tori Kel growing lukewarm and distant before finally drifting from one another over the holidays, to Casey’s two new half-siblings, to Aunt Laurel finding a man of worth (as she called him), to Brendon’s father being in and out of doctor’s appointments for heart checkups, to his mother’s increased volunteer work at the church.

His only constant, what he gravitated toward in the slow, dreary days between new school ebbing and flowing friendships, was art. He received a handheld device for Christmas with digital illustration apps already in place and though he never became proficient, he toyed around, detailing pachycephalosaurus feathers and giganotosaurus teeth.

The idea of becoming a tattoo artist cemented into his brain on January 7th after one particular comic where the tattoos rose to life off a man’s arm. The thought became a focus for the rest of the school year. He bought gel pens and watched streams of ink being done, then hid his obsession when his mom walked by because he didn’t want another lecture about how “desecrating your body is for the nonpious among us.”

Rumors abounded around the school that April, starting on Fool’s Day and picking up the ugly sort of steam that gossip accumulates. Brendon didn’t think much of it at first, for pronouns were used in place of proper names, lending an air of mystery to the whispered drama. And a Mr. Tallir wasn’t exactly on Brendon’s scan since the man was a senior teacher of American history and government.

But the comments grew lewder and less wary and Becky’s name began to spill around the edges, a couple boys using their hands to indicate larger breasts while their mouths spread cruel tales about an already-used-up part of her. Brendon sank against his locker and tried to not listen, but there’s something about trying to not listen that makes one’s ears that much more astute, picking up the sounds even a cat might notice. Continue reading →

Lost Isle Published & Giveaway!

23 Tuesday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Publication

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

adventure fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, giveaway, LGBT, long-reads, Lost Isle, Love, M/M, Novel, Paperback, prose, reading, Romance, sea stories, Series, The Ocean's Aviary, Writing

Let’s celebrate the publication of Lost Isle!

I’m ecstatic that it is complete and beautiful and out in the wide, wild world. The story does NOT end on a dreadful, horrible, no good cliffhanger, but there are hints that there is more story to come.

Firstly, I have a New Release Alert Newsletter going live tomorrow and within it is a small teaser story about the day Edwin Vlaris meets Captain Nirothe. It isn’t necessary in order to read the book, however, this will be the only way in which to read this teaser. So if you would like to read it you have only today to sign up for my newsletter!

(The New Release Alert option is exactly what it states—you will only get newsletters alerting you about publications going on sale, not about anything free I publish on my blog.)

Secondly, this is the first time that I’m publishing a paperback copy along-side of the ebook. Every previous time, the paperback has come out long after (sometimes looooong after). I’m stoked that I’ve done things the “proper” way this time around.

Which brings me to thirdly, A Giveaway! Because I actually have a physical copy to give away! :)

In order to enter:

Go ahead and drop a comment below telling me your favorite bird (or least favorite!) and why. I’ll pick a random person to be sent a signed physical copy of the book!

I’ll go first. My favorite bird is the mourning dove. I love the way they sing this haunting melody, this coo-coo-coo repetition that sparks emotional responses in me. Some runner-ups are wood thrushes, red-winged blackbirds, herons, and of course, all the magical types, like phoenixes!

And, publication day wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t do my typical list! Continue reading →

Chapter One of Lost Isle (Launch Day T-4)

19 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Excerpt, Fantasy, M/M

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Lost Isle, Love, M/M, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Series, Short Fiction, The Ocean's Aviary, Worldbuilding, Writing

CHAPTER ONE

Where I am is where I’ve always been,
but what I see has changed.

They cut us free somewhere near the Gulf of Caines. The water dark, the moon nothing but a sliver and the stars clouded as the ship’s canvas swelled with an easterly that took it far into the distance within precious little time. Left me rocking in a skiff, alone, but for the limp form of my companion—a man weathered by the sun and salt with a still-seeping gash under his left eye.

I calculated I had three days. If I were lucky. Though, luck had never been on my side, especially not recently.

That first long night, shivering in the unfettered ocean wind and my hunger for revenge keeping the pangs in my stomach at bay, I resisted the urge to dump that man overboard. I wasn’t sure why. Could just be I was so preoccupied by that fading black smudge on the horizon. Plus, I’ve never been one to handle loneliness well. And even a man condemned by his brothers for a traitorous nature was better company than the tang of salt spraying into my face whenever the skiff smacked on the downside. The fact he was also attractive despite the cut didn’t hurt either and I admit to dreaming of wringing a few good moments out of life with him before we succumbed.

Besides, I figured a dead man in the water brought sharks faster.

Dawn found me hunched in the stern, tired because I’d kept jerking awake, sore, since finding comfort in the wooden edges of the skiff was impossible. I gingerly raised myself high enough so I could scan the horizon. Nothing but morning color on one side and the violet haze of a relenting night on the other.

The boat pitched then, slamming my head into the side. I cursed like the sailors I’d been traveling with, calling out to that living, breathing leviathan believed to be responsible for every death upon the waves. My voice cracked, loud enough I must have woken the other man.

He groaned and twisted, his knee rising and his hand moving for his head. I settled within the stern once more and observed him as he fumbled his way to a sitting position, his hand missing the edge of the skiff once before he focused. As intelligence sparked in his eyes, the fog of unconsciousness slow to release him, he narrowed his gaze at me.

“Yer the cartographer? The grunt who made the star charts that led us astray?”

I shrugged, striving for a carelessness, but my heart hammered behind my rib cage like a fleet-footed deer and I reminded myself that not every sailor took up with men simply because their prospects were slim.

His stare turned more intense, as if he could see right past my feeble attempts to project some form of unconcern. “I’m curious,” he said, in a tone that said he wasn’t truly curious, but wanted an excuse to mock me. “Was ya purposefully leadin’ us wrong or are ya simply that inept?”

Affronted, I said, “My charts were fine. And considering they’re left in the care of the sailing master instead of dumped in here with us, I presume he knows that.”

The man cracked a sliver of a smile. “Ya’d argue ta the death over their accuracy despite sendin’ us so far from the Giant’s Belt. So tell me, where are we?”

“Given you likely know the ocean currents better than I, I was hoping you’d be able to answer that.”

“The stars did nah speak ta ya all night?”

“It was cloudy.”

He laughed bitterly. “Of course it were.”

“It was,” I protested, though I sounded like a petulant child, insisting on an excuse to free myself from punishment. I quickly staunched my whining and pressed my lips together in a thin, insincere smile.

The man hefted himself onto the thwart at the bow end of the skiff, the position putting him at an angle so I was forced to look up at him. At least with the sun at my back he was mostly within the light, which gave me a full view of the tattoos running along his shaved head. On one side the black markings were of a wicked looking sea serpent, crudely done, and low on the other curled smoke-like lines that I assumed represented the misty maidens who populated the sea between the continents.

He had a number of small scars across the side of his neck, as if shrapnel from a shattered bulkhead had embedded there once. His pale eyes were hooded from too much squinting in the sunlight, but had a piercing quality to them that only added to his intensity. His hands, rough and weathered like the rest of him, gripped the sides of the skiff as if he were prepared to launch at me at a second’s notice.

We were opposites, him and I.

Me with my hands soft and stained with ink rather than callused from rope burn. Me with none of the hardness he possessed. None of the decades’ worth of experience of facing down the fickle nature of the sea and its deadly inhabitants.

“What’s yer name?” he demanded. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LX: Yesteryears

17 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Canvas Blues, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LX: Yesteryears

“The plans” Casey’s father had spoken of became apparent on Casey’s fifteenth birthday, for a ragged Mustang—pastel yellow—sat parked over the dandelions peeking up through the cracks in the driveway when Brendon stopped by.

“Not quite running,” was how Casey described it when Brendon asked, “but Dad’s got a new engine block to go in it and we’re going to piece that bitch back together…together.”

A light sparkled in Casey’s eyes. And he leaned forward, his breath smelling of barbeque sauce from the chicken they munched on, leftovers from the weekend with all the crunch gone to mush around the grilled edges.

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Less than one of your paintings, I assure you, but art, Bren, in its own way.”

“When do you think you’ll get it running?”

“Sixteenth or bust, baby. Going to have my own wheels sophmore year.” A wolfish grin flashed across Casey’s face, like all the trouble they could get into churned the wheels already.

“Your dad just bailed you out of jail because of you being at a drag race and now he’s given you a car…”

Casey laughed out loud. “Irony! All my English teachers would be proud.” Then he sobered. “But it’s not running. It’s dead in the drive right now. Needs a lot of TLC, which means I’m to be hanging around here most of the year as we get it ready. More time I spend with Dad, sooner the car’s ready.”

“Ah. That’s manipulative.” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LIX: Present

10 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Canvas Blues, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LIX: Present

With a sudden lack of care, Brendon gathered his things, using baywater to give his palette a cursory scrub before throwing his canvas face-up on the pier and lugging his easel and paints toward the car. Orion followed at a slower pace, holding both canvases outward from his body, and though he never said a word but “Here,” Brendon felt that telescoping gaze boring into him.

Only when they were in the air conditioning, blowers drowning out the cicadas and the distant rumble of a motorboat, did Brendon turn on Orion.

“You think I’m some murderer. Since you walked into my studio you’ve thought it. Throwing words like victim and threat, profiling me in a way even the police don’t. Seeing nothing but what you want to see.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m taking you back to your car and then I don’t want you to bother me—or my clients—again. Take Erikson’s paid-for painting and do what you please with it. Sell it, junk it, burn it. I don’t care. Just take your assumptions away from me.”

Then Brendon angrily threw the car into gear and, gravel churning, jerked them out of the lot. They rode in silence, Brendon steaming silently and Orion—probably calculating whether he could bring a lawsuit to bear. The air conditioning turned their sweat cold, Brendon’s shirt clinging in the worst places like ice packs and still it did nothing to cool his temper, his fury building with each new additional thought that piled up.

He wants me to admit it. Wants me to confess.

My God, is he wearing a wire? How would I know?

Wait, it doesn’t matter whether he is or not because it’s all impossible anyway.

Isn’t it? Continue reading →

Edwin’s Interview (Lost Isle Launch T-17 Days)

05 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Fantasy, Teaser

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adventure fantasy, character interview, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Lost Isle, Love, M/M, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Series, Short Fiction, The Ocean's Aviary, Writing

EDWIN’S INTERVIEW

(This is a teaser for the novel Lost Isle, on pre-order now.)

The man at my door has brown hair—loose, windswept, the ends just barely curling against his forehead and neck. His face is more long than round, giving him the appearance of being lean, though his body betrays that impression with enough muscle to make him unnoticeable in the working class neighborhoods—the docks, the factories, the workshops. His hands have the most personality throughout his entire person—strong, slender hands with scribe calluses built-up on two of his fingers and ink-spot tattoos where the quill had pierced deep enough to stain.

He has the look of an indoor man. The kind who would be hunched over a desk, or a book, or a map.

I step back to let him into my office and he follows me, his eyes quick to rove and quick again to come back to me. His pants were ironed, though not the most expensive. His coat was fitted, though the loose button in the middle again betrayed his throttled funds. He stood straight with shoulders back, but not with chest puffed.

As if, by remaining straight and following the narrow, he might give the impression of a proper gentleman in order to blend and not stand out. Fighting to be average, I’d have called him. A man who did not crave attention and did not seek it. A man who would step out of the light, away from confrontation were it to peek his way.

But perhaps that is me being judgmental. After all, while first impressions are everything according to perception, they are lies tricking us into crafting a reality that person cannot possibly fight against.

“Good morning,” I said, holding my hand out.

He took it with a grip that did not tighten too hard or pull away too quickly. “Edwin Vlaris. You said you wanted to speak to me of a map.”

I gesture to the bench I had just finished clearing off before he’d knocked. “A map, yes. Please sit, Edwin.”

“Thank you.” His voice is unassuming. Shall I say, perhaps even lacking a certain confrontational ability? Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LVIII: Yesteryears

03 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Canvas Blues, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LVIII: Yesteryears

A bust went down that September. Late. Humidity giving a last hurrah as it burned across the growing corn fields and shivered burgeoning pumpkin patches. Cops swarmed Ol’ North Main like ants on a sugar spoon, wrapping cuffs about old and young alike with little regard to uncles and grand-daddy’s.

Casey got picked up. Fourteen years old, drunk off canned beer with a stolen fifty in his pocket. Taylor L. got picked up too. Taylor Lee Barry got pushed through processing, then yanked at the very last because grand-daddy came in roaring like a fury, spouting about bad choices and last chances.

No one came to yank Casey out at the last second.

Brendon had the audacity to think it all unfair. He’d been more worried about Casey getting out and dodging his father’s belt rather than being mindful of a future more dreary and far more difficult for his friend.

“Glad you’d skipped that night,” Casey muttered a few weeks later, bitter over his arrest and the subsequent crack-down his father had instated via police requirement. “Was messy and ugly. Didn’t think I’d ever see so many cop cars in my life.”

“…and your dad?” asked Brendon tentatively.

Casey shrugged. They lay across his bed, the comforter a worn blue and the pillowcases mismatched, yet both with a soccer emblem on their surface. “He’s still an asshole, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How long is he enforcing house arrest?” Continue reading →

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

A serialized novel begun Jan 29th 2020. Here you can find links to the beginning and the most recent additions.

I: Prologue
II: Present
III: Yesteryears
IV: Yesteryears
V: Present

……….

L: Present
LI: Yesteryears
LII: Yesteryears
LIII: Present
LIV: Yesteryears

New chapters published every Wednesday!
Next up: Jul 7th 2021

FREE SHORT STORIES

THE BAYWATER & THE HURRICANE
(fantasy M/M)

WHAT SECRETS MIGHT REMAIN
(fantasy M/M)

TALL, DARK & HANDSOME
(contemporary M/M)

THE IMMORTAL LOVER OF LAKE PHANTA
(fantasy M/M)

ACROSS THAT OCEAN OF SAND
(fantasy M/M)

MY LIFE, HIS BREATH
(contemporary M/M)

POET’S BANE
(fantasy M/M)

What’s Up!

  • Canvas Blues – XCV: Present
  • Canvas Blues – XCIV: Present
  • Coffee & Conversation: How to keep your plots/stories from being repetitive?
  • Canvas Blues – XCIII: Yesteryears
  • Coffee & Conversation: How to critique someone else’s work?
  • Canvas Blues – XCII: Present

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