Monday, June 17, 2013

Food Fight


“Ryan! No! Not the poi.” Stephanie shrieked.
“Is that what this is?” I had an entire bowl of it in my hand.
It was pinkish and runny as hell; no wonder the bowl was still full. I faked throwing at her and she screamed again.
“Jesus, Steph,” my friend Paul said. “The cops are gonna come break-up the party if you keep yelling like that.”
I put the bowl back on the table; we’d finished most of the roast pig and pineapple slices. Apparently when I put Paul in charge of getting liquor for the luau I was throwing in my backyard, he decided that nothing screamed Hawaii!, like vodka and we were pretty deep into it by this point.
“Yeah,” I said. “Relax.”
But I wasn’t seriously worried. I didn’t live in the best part of town and if a bunch of drunkards running around in hula skirts and Tommy Bahama shirts at one in the morning wasn’t enough to get the cops called on us, then surely a little nude slip-and-sliding was going to be okay too.
Paul and I had set it up and Stephanie was stripped down to just her panties; the only one to give it a go yet.
Stephanie threw her hands up in the air like a mad woman and ran full-tilt at the slip-and- slide. She hit the ground and was off; rocketing down the baby oil coated plastic at breakneck speed. She flew right off the end and down an embankment. None of us knew what to do, we wanted to laugh, but she might have been hurt.
Paul didn’t care, he peeled off his Tommy Bahama and ran towards the slide. He hit it harder than Stephanie had and was down beside her on the hill before we knew it.
“That sucks,” the voice from my side said.
I turned to look, it was April Marshall, one of my best girl friends since elementary school. “You gonna give it a whirl?” she asked.
“I might,” I answered.
I looked at her. She had this devilish grin on her face that I’d seen many times before. She looked back at me and the grin became a smirk. “What?”
“I know that smirk,” I said. “What are you up to?”
“Me?” she said innocently and batted her eyes at me. “Nothing of course.”
We’d been friends for forever it felt like. I was the one she called when Darryl Thomas showed-up at her parents’ house and demanded to be let in one weekend when she was home alone. Suffice it to say, Darryl didn’t bother her again after me and him had a little chat. April and I had lost each other when we went off to separate colleges, but she was back in town after a rough divorce and we’d reconnected for the party.
“You’re not thinking about kissing me are you?” I teased.
It was our old joke. She confessed to me one night in high school -after a lot of peach schnapps- that she’d had this huge crush on me, for one night”, as she liked to put it. I kissed her that same night as a goof and she wiped her lips off after in disgust. We both got a good laugh out of it.
It was the only physical contact we’d ever had as far as a sexual nature; we were that
platonic duo who’d go to war for each other, but neither had ever acted on an attraction we might
have felt for the other. April was a little hottie for sure, but it would have been like fucking my little sister –if I had one- and I didn’t want to go there.
But she looked especially good tonight. Maybe it was because she’d been married to such an asshole and rarely smiling those infrequent times that I had seen her, or maybe it was just that I was so glad to have her back in town, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face all night when she was around me.
Paul and Stephanie came back up from the hill. Paul had left his grass skirt and underwear back on the slip-and-slide and I was doing anything but admiring the view.
“That’s awful,” I said as I averted my eyes.
“It is,” April commented. “But I haven’t seen one in so long, I think I’ll just look for a few more seconds.” She held her drink up to her lips. “What do you got on under your skirt?” she said offhandedly.
I looked back at her. “What did you just say?” She was sipping from one of the hollowed-out pineapples I’d made for glasses.
You know that look people get when they say something they didn’t mean to say and you call them on it? Well, April had that look on her face. She bit the rim of her pineapple cup and refused to look at me or even acknowledge that I’d said anything. She came up on her heels and her eyes widened a bit. I could almost hear, Please drop it,” comment repeating over and over in her head.
“You gonna go on the slip-and-slide?” she asked almost hesitantly after I’d let her off the hook.
“I’m thinking about it.” But I wasn’t really.
What I was thinking about were the rosy blotches of blush that were spreading out over her exposed right shoulder.
She was definitely embarrassed by the question she’d posed unintentionally. “You’ll have to get lubed-up before you go,” April said.
“Easy with the sex talk, Marshall,” I teased.
She didn’t look at me, but she bounced up on her heels just like before. Something was up with her, I just didn’t know for sure what it is.
“You should probably lube-up if you’re going to go,” she said with a chuckle. “How much vodka have you had?”
What I quickly found out, was that it wasn’t the vodka that had her giddy, it was the bowl of poi that she was just about to pour over my head.
What can I say about poi?
I hadn’t tasted it yet, but it was cold as it flowed over my face and ran down my back. I wiped my face with both hands. “Oh, you are so dead, Marshall.”
She let out a shriek that dwarfed the ones Stephanie had been blasting across the night sky moments ago, dropped the bowl and was off like a rocket. April had run track all through high school and college, but she was no match for me. I closed in on her fast and she shrieked again.
“Where you goin’, Marshall?” I said at her heels.
I pulled at her grass skirt and she took a sharp left. I wasn’t expecting it, but I planted my  foot and turned to follow her; losing my straw hat in the process. She’d ducked into a playground nearby and ran up the slide.
Despite the poi coating the soles of my feet, I followed her up. “You know you can’t outrun me, Marshall.”
“Maybe not,” she said from the edge of an opening. “But you can’t outclimb me.”


I knew the playground well. I know; I’m kinda old to be hanging out on a playground, but there’s a reason that nobody has ever accused me of being mature. She slipped a foot off the edge and into the rope ladder that led down; or up depending on where you wanted to go.
The drop was ten feet, tops. I was on the ground waiting for her when she stepped off the ladder. “But I can outjump you.”
She turned and looked at me. “Headstart?” “I’ll give you five seconds,” I said.
“Come on, O’Leary. Give me more than that.” “One,” I said.
“Really?”
“Two.”
Three and four gave way to five faster than April would have liked and I snatched at her skirt as she bolted. It came undone and she left it behind in my hand. My eyes honed-in on her butt; the only thing covering it was a pair of lacy, black panties that locked my feet to the ground.
Damn!
I should have went after her, but she still had that spectacular runner’s ass of hers and I just wanted to watch her go for a few seconds.
What the fuck?
Was I just looking at April’s ass? And liking it?
Fuck yes I was.
I’m a guy and no matter how platonic we had been over the years, there was no denying April was a knockout and even less sense in denying that I’d looked her over more than once.
Suddenly, the thought of fucking my sister wasn’t so offensive. I caught up and nipped at her ass. “Next time it’s a spanking.” April didn’t miss a stride. “Who’s stopping you this time?”
I grabbed her left elbow and gave a gentle yank. We both came to a stop. I turned her around and left a palm print on her left cheek.
“You call that a spank?” she said with a steely glare that was fading rapidly.
I could see the sting of the swat welling up in her eyes; she wanted to rub her ass but didn’t want to give me the satisfaction.
I raised my hand high above my head; her elbow still in my other hand. “I can try again.” I brought it down a few inches and she flinched. “Thought so.” I picked her up over my shoulder; fireman style and headed back to the party.
“That really fucking hurts, O’Leary,” April said after I’d put her back down on the ground. “This’ll help.” I took a pineapple slice off the pig and pressed it against her swollen cheek.
“Better?”
She looked at me with malice behind her eyes. “No.”
I moved my hand back from her skin and the pineapple dropped. I put my hand back on her ass and squeezed. “How about that?”
She didn’t say anything; a little nibble on her bottom lip the only sign of recognition she offered.
“What are you guys doing?” It was Paul.
He was at our side and still naked from what I could see. But this time, no matter how long it had been, April’s eyes didn’t need to, ‘look for a few more seconds’.
What were we doing?


I know that I was doing my best to cover-up the hard on April’s ass had elicited, but a grass skirt was probably only slightly worse for concealing hard ons, then those short-shorts guys used to wear in the 80’s.
Aside from my efforts to disguise my arousal, I had no idea what was going on between April and I.
The cheap jam jar light on the wall beside us hit the left side of her face; casting her in a light that I’d never seen her in before.
I always knew she was hot, but this was the first time that I saw her as beautiful. I didn’t know what to do. I was speechless.
How could a woman this beautiful have been in front of me all these years and gone unnoticed?
I threw my drink at her; splashed it all over her orange tank top. Told you nobody had ever accused me of being mature.
I just didn’t know what to do. I was eight years old again; pulling Tina Lawson’s pigtails and hitting her because I didn’t know how to process the way I was feeling about her.
April picked a drink up off the table and threw it on me. We were eight again, together.
“Salsa?” I asked with the bowl in my hand.
April shook her head and I dumped it right on her. “Guacamole?” She asked me.
I shook my head no.
“Why is there so much Mexican food at this luau?” Paul asked.
April scooped a handful out of the bowl and flung it at me; we both ignored Paul.
A laugh would have been normal at his juncture, but the heat between us kept it at bay. “Oh my God,” Stephanie said when she’d returned from her latest sojourn into the world of
slipping and sliding. “What happened to you two?”
“Marshall here,” I jerked a thumb at April. “Lost a race, then a food fight.” April crooked her head and grinned at me. “I did.”
I was expecting a witty comeback, not that.
“I need to go wash this off,” April said without taking her eyes off of me.
She walked to the door slowly, looking back over her shoulder once before pulling it open. I’d never wanted a woman more in my entire life and I doubted I ever would.
Was there an invitation in her eyes, or was I just wishing that there was?
Paul talked about work, or sports, or, something. I didn’t know what he was talking about, my body was there listening to him, but my mind was upstairs with April in my bathroom.
“Yeah. It was a great game,” I offered when Paul stopped talking. “I gotta go make a call.” I headed towards the door I’d just recently watched April sashay into.
“Your phone is on the table,” I heard Paul say.
But it was too late, the screen door was closing behind me and I was floating across the basement floor.
The stairs felt like they’d been installed on a ninety degree angle. Every step felt laboured; my thoughts and emotions playing tug-of-war inside me.
Did she want me to follow her upstairs?
Would I walk in on her and embarrass myself?
What if she’d had time to re-think all of this and turned me down? What if she didn’t, you fool?


I stopped halfway up the second flight of steps. The water was on in the bathroom; a tiny sliver of light shining down the length of what should have been a closed door.
I put my hand on the railing and stood there. What if this changes things between us? Was I prepared to take that risk?
Was I prepared to handle it if the risk paid-off? What did April look like naked?
This was the question that propelled me back up the steps; steps that now seemed like flat ground.
I didn’t put my hand on the doorknob, I knew that would only leave room for hesitation, instead, I pushed the door open slowly. The room was foggy, thick steam billowing out the top of the frosted shower curtain with its familiar geometric purple shapes. It’s funny how you don’t notice small details like that until a moment when your senses are heightened to levels you once thought impossible.
Her dirty tank top was on the gleaming white vanity; the orange looked complimentary next to my yellow toothbrush. Chunks of dull-red salsa dotted the tile floor like drops of blood. April’s lacy, black panties were crumpled on the grey bathmat beside the tub. I closed my eyes and imagined her stepping out of them; jealous for a moment of the fabric that had been lucky enough to slide down her long legs.
The only sound in the room was the water rushing from the faucet.
I watched the silhouette of her form turn away from the flow of water. I’d been quieter than a mouse when I entered; she must have sensed me. She looked right at me through the curtain and although neither of us could actually see the other, I still felt like we’d looked right into the other’s eyes.
I undid my grass skirt and let it drop. April turned back to the rush of water. I slipped out of my shirt and then my underwear. They fell on top of April’s panties on the bathmat.
A precursor of things to come?
I slid my left hand in between the curtain and the wall and pinched the plastic. Last chance, O’Leary.
I could deal with embarrassment and even the awkwardness that would settle into our relationship if I was wrong about all of this, what I couldn’t deal with, is never knowing what could have happened if I chickened out right now.
I stepped into the fog with her. “Mind if I join you?” Words that had sounded so smooth in my head a moment ago, now made me cringe when I heard them escape my lips.
April had her hands in front of her face; the suds of my shampoo in her hair. She spun around slowly; her movements telling me she was as unsure of this as I was. She looked down at my chest meekly.
I didn’t know what to say. All these years and here we were. Alone.
Wet. Naked.
April covered her breasts with her hands. My dick was as hard as granite and when she shifted her weight nervously, the head brushed against her stomach.
“I always had a feeling you were packing,” she said with a grin. Ice.
Broken.


I smiled back at her and pulled her left hand off her chest. “And I always knew you had an amazing rack.”
We chuckled together.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
I put my hands on her hips. “I don’t know if it’s a matter of want anymore. I need you.” She rocked her hips once; telling me all I needed to know.
I pulled her close; her stomach pressed against my cock.
Fuck the Dawson’s Creek slow kiss, I moved in fast and furious. Her lips came apart when mine did and our teeth scraped. I’ve never had an orgasm from a first kiss before, but if ever it was going to happen, this was the moment.
April’s lips tasted like the sweetest honey on Earth and I bit her bottom lip when she tried to pull back from my fury.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked through gritted teeth. She came back to me and our lips melted together.
My tongue and April Marshall’s tongue passing back and forth over each other? I never in a million years foresaw this happening.
Our feet squeaked on the wet floor beneath us. April moaned and pressed herself into me harder. I pulled her tighter and she lost her balance some. I felt us both starting to go, so I walked her back into the wall behind her; banging my head on the shower nozzle in the process.
“Ouch,” I commented with April’s tongue massaging mine.
She gripped my left asscheek with her hand; digging her nails in roughly.
Women had always loved my ass for some reason. It’s muscular and compact,” a former fling had commented once after sex, even though I hadn’t asked. Like it’s built for thrusting.”
April’s nails were like razors and I pulled back from her slightly. I didn’t get very far.
“Where do you think you’re going?” April asked with my bottom lips between her teeth this time.
“Let go,” I said; warm water and the suds from April’s hair mixing inside my mouth. “Or else.”
“Or else what?” “This.”
I put my hand between her legs; resting the length of my middle finger between her lips. The water was warm -bordering on hot- but it was no match for the heat of April’s pussy.
She bit down harder on my lip; refusing to let me go.
I didn’t really want her to let go, but I had to keep up appearances.
It’s hard to talk with your bottom lip stretched out, but I managed to get my words out in a coherent manner. “Last chance, Marshall.”
She looked up at me; almost all the shampoo from her blonde mane now washed away. The soap was bitter on my tongue.
She didn’t let go and I was forced to act.
I rubbed my finger back and forth over her pulsing clit and April recoiled in on herself. She groaned through her clenched jaw; her shoulders shrugged and her eyes closed, but she still had my lip firmly in her grip.
I needed to step it up clearly. I moved my finger down slowly; pressing it into the velvety folds of her sweet pussy. She released my lip immediately and fell back into the wall behind her; one hand frantically gripping the slick shower curtain for balance.


“I tried to warn you, Marshall,” I said standing over her.
Her eyelids were welded shut, but I could see the movement of her baby blues behind them. I had her completely under my control and a wiggle of my finger drew out a breathy, “Oh fuck, Ryan.” That made my blood boil.
I moved her around like a puppet; slipping my finger in and out and watching her squirm. It was so fucking hot seeing her in the throes of pleasure. She opened and closed her mouth; flashing her teeth in a snarl every time I hit the right spot.
My eyes drew down to her pointy nose; a line of tepid liquid washed off the slope and fell down onto her chest. I followed the line with my eyes.
April had the pinkest nipples I’d ever seen; no surprise considering her fair complexion. They were light in shade and hard as a rock. I bent and kissed the left one softly, then kissed the valley between them until I’d found her other peak.
I licked her nipples until she was trembling; my finger still inside of her. “Ride my finger.” I demanded.
April pressed her pussy down on my finger and ground into it.
Her cries of desire echoed in the tiny room. There was a tearing sound and I briefly glimpsed the shower curtain off to my side being shredded by April’s iron grip and lethal nails.
I could feel her reaching a peak inside. She was about to blow and I wanted to see her face when she did.
“Cum for me,” I said as I stared at her gorgeous face.
She ground down harder and the release was instantaneous. A string of curse words that I didn’t even know she knew, came pouring out of her mouth; all directed my way and all very much appreciated. Her orgasm seemed to be taking forever. Not that I was complaining by any means, but I’d never seen a woman go on the way she was.
She put both hands on my wrist and I saw those baby blues for the first time in quite some time.
“I need you inside me,” April said between pants.
“Then,” I spun her around. “That’s what you’re going to get.”
She had her hands on the wet wall like a suspect. I parted her legs with my knee and let my cock glide across her perched ass. “Ask me for it.” I said into her ear.
April looked over her shoulder at me. Her mouth never opened; she spoke with a wiggle of her ass.
“Good girl,” I said and pushed the tip into her.
She bucked her hips back and I went deep into her warm, little pussy. Fuck me she was tight!
I tried to withdraw my cock, but she clamped her pussy down and I was stuck. I moved back and forth inside of her with fast, harsh strokes.
Like it’s built for thrusting.
I gave her everything I had and a little bit more.
The pressure was building in my balls; April’s whimpering pushing me closer to critical mass.
“I want you to cum in me,” she said over the thunder of our wet skin colliding.
That was going to have to be the case, because I never wanted to take my cock out of her again.
I pressed against her; my thrusts becoming less frenzied and more awkward. My weight on her back sent April tumbling over the cliff and I felt her pussy fluttering around my cock as she


came. The profanities were back and again, directed my way. Her words egged me on and when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I came inside of her with such force that I had to grip her hips to stay upright.
I kissed the back of April’s wet neck as the breath slowly returned to each of us. My cock was still inside of her and I began to thrust again.
“Again?” April said over her shoulder. “Fuck yes. Have you fucked you before?”
She laughed and pressed back against me. “Less talk. More thrust.”
I moved back a few feet. April came with me, bending at the waist. She put her hands on the ledge of the tub and arched her back. I went deeper inside of her this time and came again with her.
The water was beginning to run cold by the time we got out of the shower. I wrapped us both in a lime-green bathsheet I’d gotten when I moved in.

I kissed her on the nose. “I love getting dirty with you.”

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Indigo’s 21 with Ryan O’Leary 6/12/13

Another treat for the ladies today! I’ve go Mr. Ryan O’Leary in the hot seat!  You’ve probably seen him around facebook, charming the ladies effortlessly.  He’s handsome, fun, flirty, a brilliant writer…the list could go on, but I’m sure you’d rather hear him talk, so without further delay…let’s get to know Ryan!

Bio: Rarely will you find Ryan O’Leary in a state of rest; if he’s not on the ice or kicking around a soccer ball, he’s plotting his next story or out on the town with friends. His fun and flirty nature makes it possible for him to write the kind of romance that makes the reader both smile and tingle.
1. Tell us a little about yourself and your books.
I’m Ryan. I like to play sports and write steamy stories. My books are designed to get the readers pulse racing. May it be from the humour, the drama or the way I turn the heat up at every opportunity.

2. What genre(s) do you write?
I write erotica. I write those books that until the 50 Shades craze hit, were whispered about and hidden underneath the sink in the bathroom.


3. What was it like to see your first book published?
I self-publish my own stuff, so I didn’t get that sense of accomplishment from having one of my books bought by a publisher, but it felt pretty cool to see something available for purchase that had my name on the cover. It also felt good to know that despite my deficiencies when it comes to computers, I still managed to figure it out all on my own and follow through with it.


4. How dear to your heart is writing? Do you think you’ll continue to write for the rest of your life?
I like doing it, but to me it’s more of a hobby than a passion. Writing doesn’t pay my bills, but as long as I keep thinking of new stories to tell, I’ll probably keep writing.


5. Do you ever lock up?  Have those moments where you just stare at your screen and think, “Yeah…I got nothing”?
I’m prone to stares, but I don’t really suffer with writers block, with me, it’s more a lack of discipline, I’ll sit on the couch when I have something in my head I need to get down, so when I do write, I’m pretty proficient.


6. How difficult is it for you to come up with ideas for your books?
Difficult actually. I don’t find myself at the keyboard every day and I’m not the fastest writer, unless I actually have an idea. Usually an idea will just come to me and I’ll decide to get down to it. My stories all include sex of some sort and what’s more fun to write than that?


7. What about characters? Are the names and personalities difficult to develop?
I’m not sure if I’m different than most writers, but I don’t really think about developing the characters and their personalities. Maybe that makes my characters a little more one-dimensional or even predictable, but when I write, I’m more focused on telling the story than I am on developing a character. The reader will decide what the character is like, of course you can make them anyway that you want, but their morals and beliefs will determine what the character is like. Sure, there are clear heroes and villains, but the reader is going to decide what the characters motivations and feelings are. The reader is the one who decides what the story looks like in their head, which is why the book is almost always better than the movie.


8. Do you ever find yourself struggling as a writer?
Like I said earlier, it’s more of a hobby for me, so I don’t feel any pressure to write. If I’m struggling, I put it away for a while and come back to it later. First and foremost for me, writing is about enjoyment and if the time ever comes that it isn’t, I just won’t do it anymore.


9. About how long does it take for you to complete a book, from concept to completion?
So far, I’ve focused my attention on short stories, little yarns from 5-10 thousand words. I spent years writing full-length novels for my own enjoyment and they took anywhere from a few years to 8 months as I got better. I can bang-out the first draft of a short story in a day and have it ready for consumption in another day if I don’t have any distractions. I’m working on a full novel for J and Travis, the characters from my J’s Closet series. I started that a few months back and I’m about half-done it. Luckily, I’m co-writing with the incomparable Sable Hunter right now. She’s amazing and pushes a pretty fast pace when she writes, so I have a little trouble keeping up with her, but she’s just about the kindest, sweetest woman you’ll ever meet and she lets me work at my own pace.


10. Do you have a ritual before, during and after finishing a book?
I always have one thing that I get for each book I write. With the J and Travis novel I’m writing, I have a pink breast cancer bracelet I wear every time I work on it. For Thunderbird, the novel Sable and I are writing, I bought a black, button-up shirt with a neon blue dragon on it and I wear that whenever I’m working on Thunderbird. I know, the shirt is kinda weird, but I need something that symbolizes what I’m working on, something I can put on, or a bobble I can have by that connects me to the story. I have a bottle of Jack Daniels on my desk and I take a celebratory shot every time I hit publish on a new piece of work. We all need some kind of reward or ceremony to complete a job I think.


11. Do you have a special time or place to write?
I write when the mood strikes me, no set place, no set time.


12. Any funny experiences or quirks you’d like to share with your readers?
Nah. I’m pretty boring.


13. How do you find the time to balance your writing and family life?
One thing anyone who knows me will tell you, is that my time, is my time and I do what I want with it. That’s just how I am and that’s how I’ll always be. I do what I want, when I want. Not everyone finds it endearing, but I stopped caring what people think years ago.


14. How much down-time do you take between books? Or do you just jump right into the next?

Like most writers, I’ve already started my next book in my head before the current one is done. When I have an idea that is. If I don’t have another idea percolating, then nothing gets done until one comes to me.

15. Do you have any interesting hobbies that you enjoy?
I’m just an average Joe. I play hockey in the winter and soccer in the summer. I was a jock growing up, there was no offseason for me as a kid; I’d go from hockey right into soccer or lacrosse and then back into hockey. That was my life from age 5 until 15, then it just stopped. I discovered girls at 15 and I got away from sports, but I found my way back a few years ago and I’m glad I did, it’s the one hobby that I hope I always have.

16. If you could visit any place in the world, where would it be?
I’m not one for travel; I’ve never really been anywhere, but I think it’d be cool to walk on the Great Wall of China.


17. What’s next on your agenda?  Any new books in the works?
I’m actually working on 2 books right now. The main book is my first co-authouring venture with Sable Hunter. We’ve worked together in the past, but this is our first stab at splitting a book. Thunderbird is the first book in what will hopefully be a great series tentatively titled The Equalizers. Thunderbird is a love story of Kyle and Hannah. Kyle is the Thunderbird, a member of the powerful Chancellor family in Texas, he was a college football star, but passed up a chance to play in the NFL, instead choosing to go fight for his country. Hannah is a poor illegal immigrant that Kyle falls for when she volunteers on his campaign for the senate. It’s full of great twists and turns. You’ll cry along the way, get angry, and laugh, that is, when you aren’t aroused. The other book I’m working on (but not really working on to be honest, I hit a wall a while back and haven’t really gotten back to it), is the story of how Travis and J from my J’s Closet series met and wound-up together. A lot of people enjoyed the short stories for J and Travis and I knew I just had to tell the tale of how they got together in the first place. This one is going to be pretty heated. Everyone says how much they love the banter between J and Travis and with this book, I haven’t held back on the banter so far, so hopefully they will enjoy it. I have to confess something. I’m sure most people would assume that the actually, physically sex is my favourite part to write, but it’s actually the flirting and the back and forth I do between the male and female characters, that’s where I have the most fun.


18. What advice would you give to others who want to make writing their career?
Write. There is a lot of other stuff that comes along with trying to sell your work. Of course you have to tell people about your work, get your name out there in the sea of thousands of other writers who are vying for the public’s attention, but the most important thing you have to do is to write, because, you can’t sell anything, if you don’t have anything to sell. So write, get a little collection of work under your belt and then try to make money. I’m yet to meet anyone who has retired off the profits of one short story, so sit your ass down and create something, and when that is done, create something else. It’s not easy, but practice makes perfect.


19. What authors inspire you?
Successful ones.

20. What’s something unique about you that not many people might know?
Unique? Not sure, I’m painfully ordinary.


21. Is there anything you would like to share about your writing and publishing experience that might inspire and support new and struggling writers?
I’ve learned that I really know nothing about any of it, but I learn as I go and that’s what everyone should do. Thanks so much for having me on your blog Indigo. Now how about you let me buy you a drink…or 2?



Absolutely.  Make it three!  Thank you so much for taking the time to visit with us here today!  Now, inquiring minds need to know…where can your readers stalk you?


Sin, Indigo. (2013, June 12). Indigo’s 21 with Ryan O’Leary 6/12/13 [Blog Interview]. Retrieved from http://indigosin.wordpress.com/2013/06/12/indigos-21-with-ryan-oleary-61213/