Author Spotlight: Era J. M. Couts
Biography: I’ve been a writer for over 20 years. Well, if I actually think about it carefully, it has probably been longer than that. I do remember writing a story on MS Paint when my age was still single digits. I could have used Word, but Paint was funnier, it let me draw my scenes there too.
So maybe I should rephrase it: I have been a fanfic writer for over 20 years. There, that looks a bit better. I wrote a few originals, too, but those never saw the light of day. They will, eventually.
I like to write about characters and their development. I like to write about feelings and struggles and how complicated life can be even when it looks so simple. I like to write epic love stories that don’t always have a happy ending. But most often they do.
I will, one day, write a dystopian series that I’ve been plotting for over a decade. One day, certainly one day.
Aside from being a writer, I’m a reader, an opinionated mind, an Aries, an immigrant, a coffee lover, and a night owl that has been forced to conform to the social norm of waking up early only to become a “Morgenmuffel.”
I am passionate, energetic, lazy, and sarcastic. I’m a CrazyCatLady in the making, a food lover that cannot cook, the Man™ my grandma wanted me to marry, and a happy soul in my own shoes.
And, above all, I am weird. I am queer. And so damn proud of it.
Story Title: Ruckus, Drama, and 2 Metre Tall Penguins
Tags: genderqueer character, modern setting, setting: berlin
“I bet you a lokum cube they will stay at this for a good ten minutes.” Brigit nudged Jinji gently, moving around on the old bench to make herself more comfortable. Her teasing smile made Jinji sigh.
Sitting next to Brigit, Hatice giggled, “Ten minutes? I say we will not have any more rehearsing to do tonight!” she said, stretching her legs in front of her. “I bet you two lokum cubes they will not even notice if we leave now.”
“Am I the only one worried we won’t be ready in time for the premiere?” Jinji eyed the ladies, with their light moods and high spirits, and tried not to frown. He was certainly the youngest in their theatre group; he was also, alongside the always warm/stunning/Jinji’s-”problem number one” Pascoal, the latest to join. He didn’t have much experience with theatre—or any stage art for that matter—but his nature demanded he succeed. Shouldn’t they be able to run the play from start to end when they were mere 14 days away from the big night?
“You worry too much, pumpkin,” Hatice said, and Jinji sighed again. She’d been saying that since the day he’d joined the group, three months before. “Your generation seems to be built to worry! Our grandkids are the same. Always worrying about one thing or another.”
“You will have worry wrinkles by the age of twenty-five if you keep frowning like that,” Brigit warned, nudging him again. Carlo’s cursing onstage grew so loud it nearly drowned her out. “And then, when you get to our age, you will look like our rescued sphynx cat!”
Author Spotlight: Aria L. Deair
Biography: Aria L. Deair is an author who has been writing and (while cursing her excessive comma usage) publishing fanfiction online for more than sixteen years. Freelance writer by day and author every other hour that she isn’t sleeping, she spends her days courting carpal tunnel and “forgetting” to wear her wrist brace.
As a proud member of more fandoms than she can count, Aria can be found blogging about some of the writing that she is avoiding doing at @arialerendeair.
Like a dragon with her hoard, she can be found in her New Hampshire apartment, surrounded by notebooks (most of which are empty), half-filled mugs of tea, and some of the comfiest blankets that have ever existed. Disturb her at your own risk, especially during NaNo Season.
Story Title: An Office Ado
Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, getting together, modern setting, mutual pining
“Don’t be like that.” Hero bumped his shoulder with her own. When he still said nothing, she turned to look at him then took his arm to stop them on the landing between floors. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Beau?”
Beau blinked in surprise, turning his full attention to her. “What makes you ask a question like that, Hero?”
She shifted on the balls of her feet, brushing a fleck of imaginary dust off her slacks. “I wondered if you talk with me the same way I do with you.”
“I do,” Beau tilted his head. It was clear she had more to say. “In fact, you often bemoan how much I talk about—”
“I’m not talking about work or office things, Beauregard,” Hero said, her lips pressing together to make a thin line. “I’m talking about you.’
Beau frowned, his shoulders hunching. “What about me?”
Hero waved a hand at him. “Things like whether you’re a cat or a dog person, why you only own six collared shirts—”
Beau stiffened indignantly. “It’s efficient—”
“—and how long you’ve been in love with Benedict Dickson.”