Welcome one and all! Grab a beverage of choice, something sweet and sinful. No-no, not the men. What’s the matter with you? You know the hands-on rules… The guest gets first pick! 😉 Take a comfy seat for another, or a first, spin in the Round Pen.
Please show David some real Ranch love!
Before I get to the nosy 5-3-4 part of this interview, tell us a bit about you. What made you decide to write romantic fiction and do you find it difficult as a man in a woman’s world so-to-speak?
I suppose I have a feminine side and wanted to commune with a feminine mind and soul. I long had a suppressed desire to do this, which was released/catalyzed by the writings of a woman friend of mine. The people I currently associate with have no prejudices in this area.
That’s good. I think it’s great when a man connects with his feminine side and gets to surround himself with so many talented women in the process. 😉
Okay, I’ll begin with five questions, then follow with three more, and end with four final ones.
My writing area at the moment is my recliner in a corner of my living room. What does your writing space look like?
It is a mass of papers, with clear space in the middle for desk, chair and computer. I was in the past nearly choked with papers. The arrival of the computer and the internet made me want to keep my paper masses at a more moderate level.
LOL I can picture it…too well, I’m afraid! Vividly, in fact.
For a lot of writers it’s a life-altering event coming up with titles and character names. Others it comes as naturally as breathing. Which is it for you?
I find it easy in the main, unless a really outlandish, exotic name is required, then one has to research ones history and mythology very thoroughly.
Very true. What advice would you offer aspiring and new writers?
Keep at it; don’t be afraid of being provocative and outrageous; do not be over-sensitive to the censorious opinions of one person; you must sound out many. Some really major works were heavily derided at the outset, many more has masses of rejections.
Sound and true advice. It’s often hard not to let opinions of others (those who don’t write or understand the genre) influence what , and in some cases if, we write.
The constant shift of the industry makes me often scratch my head and ask ‘what next?’ So, what do you think it takes to be a successful author at the moment?
There is some consolation in this ‘constant shift’. Because it goes forwards, backwards and sideways, and embraces ‘retro’ no work will finally be invalidated because of being outmoded or old-fashioned.
I’ve never looked at it quite like that. Good point! 🙂
Who would you like to meet in the publishing industry- dead or alive- and why?
Whoever published Ben Okri, because I am a great admirer of his works.
Never heard of it, but interesting choice.
It’s time for flash 3 in 1! I’ll ask the questions and you answer them in one word. 😆
Favorite animal? Cat
Favorite season? Spring
Favorite food? Lentils
Well done! 🙂
Okay, final four. Ready?
What are you sharing today?
A very handsome but shy man yearns to have a one-night stand with a sexy woman. One day he decided to step out of his comfort zone and gained enough courage to ask a girl out.
This is a short story, told in first person, about a shy man who is inexperienced with women, yet a self-proclaimed narcissist, and he is seeking a sexual encounter with the woman of his dreams. The narrating voice is quirky and comical, at times, making it a fun read as this man takes you through his rendezvous, an experience he has clearly thought about at length beforehand and meticulously planned. Great read and I look forward to reading other stories by this author! This story has a sequel entitled Darlene.
Yes, I’m a narcissist and proud of it, happily fed by my screen and video role models. And after many years of sheer laziness, and being condemned for, I got into a bit of exercise and healthy living to give my attitude some substance and justification. The muscles gradually tightened, the flab burned away, and all the aftermath of that past accumulated sugar evaporated. At last, I could really show myself off to myself in the mirror.
I worked out my own self-revelation show. Late at night, under a dim light, I did my beachwear striptease by putting on a pair of very brief swimming trunks, synthetic fibre, with a leopard-skin pattern, and over them, a tight pair of Fifties trunks, dark blue, tautly straddling my slender hips. Still, over these a pair of boxer shorts and a singlet top. With the light just right, red, subdued, I’d do a slow dressing down in front of the mirror, acting like an indoor surfing beach boy.
Taking off my singlet, my taut, rippling torso shone. I swung it slowly through several alluring angles. Then on to the shorts, just wide enough to hold some extra thigh. I then took off the elastic waistband, which was as tight as my firm midriff. Down and off, giving off a butterfly breath, a rousing, flushing thrill as my blue trunks and full thighs were revealed in the mirror. I swung my hips—they jutted them proudly.
All that cycling, all that time in the gym and the pool, with all their on-going aches and pains, and the occasional buffeting, falls and sprains, had paid off. Getting into top condition sometimes means flirting with injury, but I had to get away from that drip I had been! I’d made it—could match those figures on any of the hoardings or in any of the supplements and glossies. Now, I was beautiful, a beach-girl’s dream, and dreaming of my beach girl. Unseen and undefined, my seductive partner was disrobing down to a super-clingy lycra one-piece, or maybe one of those gorgeous Jantzen suits from the Fifties they’ve just brought back on the market, so graceful, so lovely…
Down to the briefer trunks, more flexing, more hip-swivelling. That Retro wave gave me a huge flush of energy, a bridge to make up for all that time lost in the past—breathing the life of modernity into the archaic. Being alone, I cancelled the last revelation in the dark—had to save that for contingent reality. The whole atmosphere rippled with the waters of fantasy, swirling to immerse me. The reverie oscillated between the pool and the steamy shower room, immersion and towelling, mirrors sometimes look really good when they are steamed over…
Of course, I ever yearned for that special lady, someone with a bit of glamour and panache, for a gracious erotic encounter, but I was so shy. I was a bit alienated from my workplace. The female staff there very much had their own closed community and their own external partners. The usual public meeting places like discos seemed so cold, so anonymous.
As I became more relaxed with my body, though, bodies in general became a focus of fascination for me. I started going to life-drawing classes. I relished the graceful, svelte models. It would be lovely to have an experience with one, even more so if the encounter included some role-reversal. It was nice to feel some ripples of androgyny. Yet, I still could not bring myself to ask any of them outright for a date.
Then one evening the class was beginning to get impatient to get started, until the secretary came in and announced that the booked model could not make it that evening. I was aquiver—this was my opportunity. “Could I stand in?” I asked nervously.
“Yes, please do. You’ve really saved the day,” said the slender, gracefully ageing tutor.
At last, I’d broken the ice! It was a delicious turn-on, taking my clothes off behind the dark green velvet curtain, which was interesting comparison with a swimming pool changing room. I could reveal the unrobed me—my firm pecs, and my slender waist. I was a lithe, lovely model, and some alluring dames drew me with relish. I was the reversed-out, retroactive answer to the pre-Raphaelites.
Where can we find you and your books?
Smashwords: About David Russell, author of ‘An Ecstatic Rendezvous
Thank you so much for playing along David! Wishing you much luck with your book and writing. I hope you’ll come visit again one day.