Fictional Prostitute

I’m all about honesty. I don’t like to lie. If I tell you something untrue, it’s either because I misheard, misread, or my brain didn’t put the pieces together correctly. Also, keep in mind I read tons of fantasy and “not-quite-historical” fiction, so sometimes what I read is simply not true, and I soak it up like a sponge.

When someone lies to me about news or politics or world affairs, I’m more likely to believe they’ve also misheard, misread, or their brains put the story together wrong. I give people the benefit of the doubt, or we share a good laugh over misconception.

When someone lies about me, who I am, or what I do: That’s when the claws come out. When you try to tell someone else I’ve fabricated a story about going home early (we had to let our dog out; you don’t leave an animal locked in your house for over twelve hours – you just don’t) or claim outrage over something that’s none of your business, yes, I call bullshit. When you tell people I write on my work computer (no one in their right mind would do that) during work hours (not this girl – I have way too much shit to do for work, thank you), maybe you should examine your work time and how many hours you spend talking about me to your peers. I’ve culled the energy vampires around me, but the few still circling are the worst kind of trolls you can imagine.

I’ve loosened a few strings around my private life in order to maintain a separate public persona. I re-opened my personal Facebook account to separate writing life from personal life. To be honest, I still HATE my personal account. As much as I’ve culled my friends’ list, there’s one or two I feel obligated to keep, but I don’t trust them. (If you’re reading this, IT’S NOT YOU. I SWEAR IT.) I’ve opened my Twitter account back to public, more fodder for the work troll. I’ve also posted some public posts for book promotion. Right now, that’s all that matters.

So, you want to talk about me? Talk about the book I wrote. It’s called Spread Your Wings. It’s about Sammy Donnelly, a freshly-minted CNN reporter with his first foreign assignment: covering the vote for independence in Sarajevo in February 1992. He’s also the proud owner of tickets to the final Queen concert of his lifetime: the Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert on April 20, 1992. He has to survive the uprising in Bosnia and a health scare to make that happen. Along the way, he meets Mustafa, one of the hotel staff. Mustafa is gay and Muslim, a dangerous mix in the rising tensions with the Serbs. Can Sammy get Mustafa safely to London, and then to the United States? Will the tribute concert be everything Freddie Mercury deserves as a final send-off? Check out Spread Your Wings.

Truth is, I’m just a fictional prostitute, as Freddie Mercury was a musical prostitute. Keep talking about me, and buy my book. *bows*