Second Best Fantasy is complete and submitted to JMS Books. I don’t know that I can assume she will publish me again, but I certainly hope so. I feel a sort of loss in finishing, the novel took up so much of my thinking time and imagination. Or maybe I’m just afraid to begin that third novel, because I know how emotionally difficult it will be. Maybe I will take a short break, or come up with another fiction idea in the meantime. But my story with Liz is always lurking in the background.


Over the weekend, a friend said to me, “That’s so brave, to put all that out there, I’d be afraid to be so vulnerable.”

Her words have stayed with me. When I was reviewing the page galleys for Unavailable, it suddenly struck me just what I was putting out there. A window into my darkest moments, an unobstructed view of my alcoholism and drug addiction, a not too pretty picture of a hedonistic life I’d been living for some time.

Much of my emotional life has been scarred by a marked fear of what other people think of me. And now, even bits of my sex life are boldly typed among the pages of Unavailable. Can I trust that the readers will believe I have changed? Does it matter?

Of course now, the book is out there. Being read, consumed, judged. Am I being judged alongside it?

So now I wax philosophical on the vulnerability of the memoir author. The nakedness of my activity, the opaqueness of my vivacity.

Rewriting Mark Twain?

I’m SO outraged about this, but I am thrilled at the speed with which like minded people responded to it. So I’m yelling THANK YOU to Mark Barrett, and resposting his article since he has already said it all:

More teasers from “Unavailable”

Patience dear readers. You’ll be able to read the whole thing come February. 🙂

extract #1

I awoke to a blood-curdling infant scream. (You might say I’m “not a kid person.”) I had a crick in my neck but a joy in my heart. I’d spent the past several years involved with a woman on and off who was no good for me, and was rarely good to me. When I wasn’t with her, I’d been mixed up with a woman twice my age, who was also not particularly good for me, other than she made me feel desired and cherished in a way the other woman did not. Yet here, here was Liza, a woman untainted by prior relationships with other women. This I could do. All of this, of course, went on in my head under the assumption that now, after making out and sleeping side by side, we were actually having a romantic relationship. I knew no other reality apart from that. Having met my first female lover when I was fifteen, I knew nothing about dating or getting to know each other, building a partnership and growing together. I had dated boys, but even when I was trying to do that I followed the same formula, it just took much less time for it to unravel.

So there I was, the morning after what I thought was simply a swell beginning, all the getting to know each other required had already occurred as far as I was concerned. I noticed that she wasn’t really paying all that much attention to me, barely making eye contact with me. I stayed anyway, desperate to be near her, and I had breakfast with Liza, her mom, and her baby, just like a family. Although she seemed distant and uncomfortable, I wrote that off as “Well, of course, she doesn’t want her mother to know she’s a lesbian.” Because she kissed me with enthusiasm, and more than once, I foolishly assumed she was a lesbian.

extract #2

I held her in my arms while she cried and stroked her hair. For what seemed like a long time, neither one of us said anything at all. Then, without a word, she turned to me and kissed me. That was the first time I’d been kissed in a very long time, so immediately the floodgates were opened, emotionally, sexually, and every other kind of arousal there is. She climbed on top of me, kissed me some more, whispered my name. She paused for only a moment, and took off her shirt. In my one, weak attempt to do the right thing, I said, “You know, this is probably a bad idea.” I distinctly remember the sound of her breathing in that moment, and the soft “swoosh” sound her shirt made as it hit my tile floor. She looked me dead in the eye and said, “We’re already doing it.”

So now I’m up and running…

I have spent the better part of two days learning the ins and outs of WordPress and my various options. I sincerely hope what you find here is user friendly and sensibly organized.

I’m really not much of a blogger or even a journaler, but if something really gets me fired up I’ll write about it. Mostly I’ll be using the blog page to keep you in the loop about news of my upcoming book release and other works in progress.

Thank you for visiting,
Angela Kelly