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Being Neighborly-Short Story Free Read

Being Neighborly
By April Kelley




Warning: Graphic sexual scenes, excessive use of butter, M/M/M.






Isaac held the final notice in his hand, the words rolling in his head.The word foreclosure seemed to take up most of the page, drowning all other words out.The sting of tears came to his eyes, uncontrollably.They clogged up his throat and squeezed his chest like it was being slowly crushed by one of his steer’s hooves.He had tried everything to make the little ranch he bought five years ago profitable.Every penny of the money he inherited from his grandfather, the only person who didn’t disown him after he came out, went into the ranch.Now there was nothing left.

The rest of the family was beyond pissed that Grandpa left Isaac everything he had, so he wouldn’t ask those money hungry vultures for anything, not that they would give him anything anyway.They had successfully disowned him so thoroughly they hadn’t even spoken to him at his grandfather’s funeral.And he hadn’t heard from any of th…

Bucket list Check off

So yeah, I have a bucket list.  I mean who doesn't have one, at least since the movie came out.  What a great way to make sure you're living life to its fullest potential.  There are even a few things that I have checked off.  Like: Get Married to the love of my life, Buy a house.


The latest one I get to check off is 'Become a published author'.  And this one was a big too.  This has been a lifelong dream of mine, practically since birth.  If someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I said a Writer. 


Although, I guess I've always been a writer.  To become a writer all a person has to do is simply write.  To become an author though, means someone has to think that you don't suck at writing. 


Woohoo! I don't suck.  At least I don't suck so much that my editor can't help me fix it. 


Extasy Books is one of my favorite publishers.  They will be publishing a book series called Pickleville.  Pickleville is a small town in Michigan.  Why call …

Don't throw out your crappy writing. That's the good stuff.

This is, hopefully helpful for those of you who want to be write but aren't sure what to do after you get your story on paper.  Yeah, I know what your thinking.  "My stuff story is a bunch of crap.  So I'm hiding it."  You started off with this great story idea and you start writing.  By the time your finished you have a bunch of words that most likely don't even make sense to you.


Okay, so maybe that's a little exaggerated, but you get my point. 


Guess what?  You are not alone at all.  Everyone's work sucks after the first writing.  That's why re-writing is so important and probably more creative, in some respects, that the first draft.  So re-write.  Cut and paste those sentences so that your paragraphs make sense.  Add and subtract where needed.  Change things around so that the over all theme comes through clearly. 


And then re-write some more.  After a about a dozen re-writes you will get sick and tired of looking at your own words on paper.  A…

Uh oh...Mom wants to read my work.

So about a month ago my mom asked to read a short story I wrote.  My immediate reaction was 'Yay, my mommy loves me...hehe'.  I love that my mom is so supportive that she would want to read the gay erotic fiction that I write.  Her support means a lot to me. 


Having said that, the short story my mom wants to read is very sexually graphic.  So my secondary reaction was 'oh shit!'  I put off giving her the story for as long as I could.  Finally, yesterday I handed her a paper copy of the story.  I probably looked like a five year old kid who did something terribly wrong.  Having my mom read the sexual scenes I've written is just a little bit embarrassing.  Sort of like getting caught making out as a teenager...yeah, been there too. 


Anyway, my mom is great.  She'll love me no matter what I write about.

9/11 and Writing, Thank You!

I was going to write about where I was on 9/11/01 and maybe something about how that day has impacted my life.  But my story is typical and would take up the space of two sentences.  I was in my living room and I suppose 9/11 has impacted me in a lot of the ways it has every American.  It's still hard to hear a plane in the sky and not get just a little worried about it falling.  And my heart still aches for all the people who were affected by that day, living and dead.  So yeah, I think that was three sentences. 


 Remembrance ceremonies have been the top story on the news programs and I have also seen several people post pictures and tell stories in remembrance of that terrible day.  Through out the thirteen years there have been countless people who have written or said something in remembrance and thanks. 


To those people who have helped keep the memory of that day and the lives that were lost fresh in my mind, thank you.  Words can change the world sometimes and your words h…

Write what you know?

So, I started a journal entry.  I don't journal often, maybe about once or twice a month at best, but when I do it's my way of working through my thoughts on paper. 
Why is this different than writing fiction, you ask? 
Very good question.  Writing fiction is therapeutic, absolutely.  It's just that I get so caught up in my characters lives that I don't realize what I had to work through until I'm finished.  Usually this happens during rewrites, of which there are many.  So many that my issues sort of smack me in the face over and over until I really have no choice but to fix whatever problem I have been struggling while writing about the voices in my head.
Anyway, so I'm writing my journal entry and while I'm writing I think 'hey this is pretty good.  I should share this'.  And then in the middle of the night (of course it was.  I like sleep.  A lot.  So when my characters wake me up in the middle of the night it pisses me off) the story just pop…

Monsters

So I live with monsters.  Not literally, of course.  Although they sure seem quite real sometimes.  My monsters live inside me and cause all sorts of pain and sadness.  Okay, I'm really talking about depression.  It seems I got the short end of the stick when it comes to this particular genetic flaw.  Living with it every day can seem like living through the Lone Survivor movie I just saw a couple months ago.  So, yeah, I know how that man feels in some very small ways. 


Not that I'm saying I know what war is like.  I don't, of course.  I'm one of the lucky ones and have never had to go to war in anyway, unless he count when my kids were toddlers and still in diapers.  All I can say is yuck and I'm glad they're teenagers now.  What I'm saying is that having depression feels like what I imagine going to war must be like.






When a soldier is in the thick of the battle he/she does things that they would never think about doing in their every day lives.  Obvious…