Why I Write the Characters I Do
by J.M. Dabney
Let me begin by thanking The Blogger Girls for allowing me to have a guest post today.
I agonized over what to write in my post. Guest posts aren’t my forte. I can write thousands of words as if it’s nothing, but posts like this leave my mind blank. So, I thought I’d talk about why I write the characters I do.
My single motivation is to give readers under represented characters who they can read about—experience—and feel as if they are the star of their own romance. No matter shade, size, or shape, sexual identity or lack thereof.
BBW (big beautiful woman) and BHM (big handsome men) are the characters I love writing the most. The books are out there, but not in the numbers they should be.
We live in a society very much overrun with media that makes individuals young and old insecure. They’re assaulted with expectations of what is considered acceptable. I worship those characters with rolls, bellies, wrinkles, dimples, and I make sure my characters are comfortable with and appreciated for those imperfections. Imperfections isn’t the right word, our stories are told in those little details. The crinkle at the corners of a person’s eyes that tells of happier times. Years of smiles and laughter.
Scars, remembrances of times past. C-section scars that tell the story of children’s births. The pale scars on wrists, forearms, or thighs that remind us of pain. Marks that retell our folly of youthful beliefs of our invincibility.
Livingston is one of those characters. Traumatized by abuse. Wearing constant reminders of an unconscionable hate. He wears the twisted and marred skin as a knight of old would wear armor. Never letting anyone close. Those superficial scars are nothing like the emotional/mental damage done. But his lack of prettiness or physical conventionality makes him no less worthy of finding his peace and the love he deserves.
I won’t claim that love conquers all, but it helps. We’re humans created by experiences, some good, bad, and in cases horrific. When we’re open to the possibilities we embrace our freedom to attain what we need without expectations or the what-ifs that mire us down in what we’re supposed to be or who we love.
We’re all imperfectly perfect.
We’re all valuable.
We’re all just…us.
He was the Beast without the escape clause.
Francis “Liv” Livingston was a beast. No matter if he wore a perfectly tailored suit or if he was in his tactical gear, people avoided looking at him. He was always first to volunteer for the jobs only a person with a death wish wanted. Tomorrows weren’t guaranteed. His boss had come to him and told him he needed him for a job. Linus knew the jobs he liked, but when he opened the file, it all went to hell.
Beauty was only skin deep.
Fielding Haskell made his way in the world on his looks. He’d earned his first film role before he could read a script. He didn’t want the fame. He wanted to go to college. He wanted a man who didn’t look at him and see how pretty he was. Unfortunately, a so-called fan only cared how attractive he was, and it earned him a personal bodyguard and a vacation. He looked forward to the break until he met the man in charge of his safety and wondered if the danger he left was worth dealing with a sudden attraction to a man who was colder than ice.
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An Excerpt from Livingston
The last few days were a level of hell that even eclipsed his worst nightmare, and he was going to make sure it ended. He stowed the boy in the conference room and headed straight for Linus’ office. He pushed open the door without knocking not giving a shit what he found on the other side. He slammed the door and strode to his boss’ desk.
“He’s gotta go.”
Linus didn’t even flinch simply relaxed back in his chair and stared at him.
“Give him to Pure.”
“And why should I do that, Livingston?”
“None of your fucking business, I want him out of my house.”
A slow infuriating smirk spread the corners of Linus’ mouth, and for the first time in their friendship, he wanted to knock the fucker’s teeth out.
The kid’s presence was everywhere in his place from Fielding’s sweet scent in his bed to meals kept warm in the oven to the boy using his favorite leather jacket as a blanket as he read. It was getting downright domestic at his place. Shit was going to start giving him fucking hives with all the normalcy going on, and he raised his hand to massage the tic under his right eye.
“Want the pretty thing on your dick?”
“Fuck you, man, give him to someone else. I don’t care who.”
He knew it was a lie, and from the arrogant smirk, Linus picked up on it too. He ground his back teeth together waiting for Linus to call him out on it.
“You know that ain’t true, Liv. I send him home with someone else, and you know what’s going to happen?”
He didn’t want to hear it.
“That’s right. You’ll ride right over to get your boy.”
“You knew this would happen,” he hollered.
The man didn’t even have to answer. It was right there in his smug expression and the amusement in his blue-green eyes.
He fell into one of the guest chairs in front of Linus’ desk and scrubbed his hands over his face. He grew more pissed when his fingers and palm caught on the uneven skin. His wasn’t a face or body for permanence. He couldn’t even remember the last time he hooked up. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he wanted someone. Someone who saw the scars yet they wouldn’t matter. More than a drunken fuck in a different state or town, where if he were rejected, only strangers would witness it.
“So you still want to send him with Little, Pure, maybe Raul?”
He growled at the mention of Raul being anywhere near Fielding. Raul had tried to fuck Pure out of his system for years, and Raul wasn’t picky—he was an any-hole-would-do kind of guy.
“I hate you.”
“Want to go a few rounds, maybe show off for him?”
“Fuck you,” he rumbled and pushed up from the chair.
About J.M. Dabney
J.M. Dabney is a multi-genre author who writes mainly LGBT romance and fiction. She lives with a constant diverse cast of characters in her head. No matter their size, shape, race, etc. she lives for one purpose alone, and that’s to make sure she does them justice and give them the happily ever after they deserve. J.M. is dysfunction at its finest and she makes sure her characters are a beautiful kaleidoscope of crazy. There is nothing more she wants from telling her stories than to show that no matter the package the characters come in or the damage their pasts have done, that love is love. That normal is never normal and sometimes the so-called broken can still be amazing.
Find out more about J.M. on her Amazon Author Page, Facebook Author Page, Twitter, Author Website, Publisher Website, Publisher Facebook Page, Publisher Twitter, Facebook Reader Group or Goodreads Author Page.