A Big Open Skye Welcome to Jamie Dean, author of Not Just Passing Through.
Thanks for stopping by!
Jamie Dean, here. Author of the new book Not Just Passing Through and full-time troublemaker.
Recently, I had a dream that my writers’ critique group (if you’re not a writer—or even if you are—you might not know that’s a thing, but it is, and it’s kind of awesome) went to a sort of conference, where we had to write down—and then read out on stage—a list of our “turn ons.” In other words, a list of things that inspired us when we were writing. I woke up being intrigued and a little impressed that my brain was being so philosophical (also ignoring that the dream devolved into my being chased by roller derby girls who were trying to kill me with flying cars).
I don’t remember everything I wrote on my list, but the two I do remember vividly were “sleepy cuddles” and “gay boys kissing.” I’m guessing that second one is what most of you are here to read about (If it’s the roller girls, I’m pretty sure you’re in the wrong place).
Those two things stuck with me when I woke for a few reasons. One being because I’ve heard before that you’re not supposed to be able to read or write in dreams, but I wrote and could read those words quite clearly. Those two things also stuck with me because when I woke up, they were true, which is so rarely the case with things you say in your dreams. “Airlift robots can’t ride this roller coaster, Farthington!” is more typical of the kind of weird shit my brain normally marches out during dreams, so when it tells me the truth, I listen.
I’ve been told in many ways that the erotic—gay boys kissing, if you will—part of my erotic male/male romances is good—”hawt” “hot” “smutty deliciousness”—but the romantic aspect (this is where sleepy cuddles comes in) is just as important to me. And not just the sweet, falling in love kind of romance. The “so rife with angst it gives you actual chest pains” kind of romance. It’s gotta hurt before it feels better. That’s the kind of thing I love to read and that’s the kind of thing I love to write. I want the love to feel impossible, even if we know—it being a romance novel—that it isn’t impossible. That’s the beauty of romance, isn’t it? The idea that love conquers all? That’s the beauty of life, come to think of it.
What about you, Reader? What do you dream about? What do you love to read about most: the angst, the romance, or the smut? Talk to me about it in the comments below, or look me up all over the web by the handle JamieDeanWrites.
Blurb: Socially awkward, closeted virgin Avery Malcolm passes his days and nights running his bigoted aunt’s motel in rural New Mexico. He dreams of getting away and hitting the road, but with one friend, a few acquaintances, and no real life to speak of outside his duties as front desk clerk, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get a chance.
Fate sends hot drifter Chase Lancaster to the Red Ram Motel, riding in on his sexy black motorcycle. Within twenty-four hours, Avery’s life is turned upside down. Before long, even though Chase’s sexual interests seem to run exclusively toward women in bars, Avery finds himself falling for the beautiful biker with no permanent address. Chase is much more than his bad boy persona, so while it’s nice to have another friend, Avery doesn’t know how he’ll survive with his heart intact when Chase inevitably moves on.
Bio: Jamie Dean is passionate about food, beer, and hot men wading together through a sea of angst, sarcasm and sexy times.
When he is not reading or writing gay erotic fiction from his front porch swing, he might be painting, playing with his dogs and cats, or cooking experimental meals for (or drinking beer with) Jay, his husband and muse. He loves old cars, science fiction, road trips, and spending time with family and friends.
He came to terms with his sexuality only later in life, so that struggle is a frequent theme in his work. He has since embraced it with pride and considers himself an LGBT* activist, a feminist, and a champion for equal rights.