My guest this week is author KZ Snow. Thanks for joining us, KZ.

Q: To being, please share which genre you write in…
A: M/M erotic romance, primarily. I love exploring both the psycho-emotional and sexual dynamics of two men cultivating intimacy. Hell, I’ve been female all my life, so I’m gender-bored.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: Too long.

Q: So, if you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: As I answer these questions, I’m working on the sequel to InDescent, in which one hero will, among other things, have a critical meeting with the other hero’s girlfriend. I also have a M/M contemporary, Bastards and Pretty Boys, under submission.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: InDescent, without a doubt. For all kinds of reasons.

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: I need to be in a specific mental place, although I can’t describe it and don’t even know whether or not I’m there until I try to start writing.

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?
A: Hm. Well, people I strongly dislike, for starters. It’s perversely gratifying to turn them into bimbos and buttwipes. Then there’s a local graveyard called Rock Cemetery. It served as the inspiration for Fog Cliff Cemetery, which appears in Cemetery Dancer from Ellora’s Cave and and again in InDescent.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Don’t expect to set the world on fire.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: Jobs have been hard to come by around here, so I’m focusing on writing.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?
A: Be alone with an absorbing book or movie and plenty of cold beer.

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: I’ve personally known three murderers in my life. No lie. (Long stories, those.)

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: “Fuck.” It’s really tired on being my favorite, too, because it keeps trying to get away from me by slipping out of my mouth.

Q: What’s your favorite holiday, and why?
A: I’ve always adored Christmas. If I have to explain why, I’m apparently surrounded by a passel of Scrooges.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: I don’t have anything that requires sticking needles into my skin! Needles populate Phobiaville, and I try not to go there.

Q: If you could be intimate with three people (not necessarily all at one time *g*) without getting in trouble with your significant other, who would they be?
A: I’d rather not name real people. It always makes me feel kind of silly . . . and unworthy. But were I worthier, I wouldn’t mind starting out with Hugh Jackman.

Q: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you want with you?
A: A magic lamp, genie included, would suffice.

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: Animal shelters, mostly. And my friends. I live a very simple life and prefer it that way. I’d spend what I needed to on necessities, of course, but beyond that, there isn’t much I want. Or what I do want, money can’t buy.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Cooking. I have absolutely no patience for it. Washing windows and blinds runs a close second.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?
A: Depends on my mood.

Q: Do you have any guilty pleasures you feel comfortable sharing?
A: This season’s “American Idol.” Gawd, the first time I saw Adam Lambert perform, I became a total, gonzo fangirl (or, as Mrs. Giggles would say, a “dirty cougar”). If I start writing slash fanfic, please stage an intervention! I also get a shameful kick out of reading egregiously bad writing.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: Lots and lots.

Q: Anything else you’d like to share?
A: Yeah. Anybody need some body fat?

Q: In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release (& share a yummy excerpt for those who aren’t yet familiar with your work)
A: I actually have two releases: Exploring Savage Places, Book 3 of the Utopia-X series, from Loose Id and InDescent from Liquid Silver. Both are m/m urban fantasies — one, futuristic; the other, contemporary.

Here’s a sample of InDescent:

When a breach in the Prism of Nezrabi frees creatures from another plane, a troubled wizard learns there are things more terrifying than the bogeymen of our nightmares. Like inner demons…and love.

Something was wrong. Jackson knew it as soon as he opened his eyes. He’d always been able to awaken quickly. Now, hyperalert, he sat up and reached toward the other side of the bed.
Adin was gone.
Not sure why it alarmed him, Jackson listened for a moment. Silence filled the flat. No sounds in the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. Sliding his legs off the bed, he grabbed his jeans from the floor and slipped them on.
“Shit,” he whispered. Flipping on the light, Jackson sprinted around the apartment to rustle up a shirt, socks, shoes. “Shit,” he said more emphatically, his sense of urgency growing.
Adin’s laptop was still on the dining table, so he obviously wasn’t heading home. In fact, he’d talked to Celia, his girlfriend, just a few hours earlier and told her he’d be staying a while. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and was sitting outside.
He wasn’t. At first Jackson didn’t know which way to go when he stepped out the door. He didn’t even know what time it was. He looked left and right but couldn’t see Adin’s familiar form anywhere on the spottily lit sidewalks. Other people were out, though. A slow-moving, low-slung car boomed down the street. Two men and a woman sat on a stoop kitty-corner from Jackson’s building, music playing at their backs. Farther away, Jackson heard a shout, a fountain of laughter.
He steepled his fingers and lowered his forehead to their tips. Closing his eyes, he blocked out all sensory distractions. He not only visualized Adin, he summoned a detailed sense of the man. Then his arms lowered of their own accord. Automatically, his body turned. He faced the dark, narrow walkway between his building and the one nextdoor. Adin must have gone down the walkway and headed for the alley.
“Don’t,” Jackson whispered, falling into a jog. He felt tugged along. “Please don’t.”
He veered left into the alley. When he got to the end of the block, he followed the next alley. Something wispy and insubstantial grazed the side of his face. Almost immediately, a cat yowled. Jackson didn’t stop. He didn’t care what was flitting about the city tonight. He had to find Adin.
There was a bar on the corner of the second block. His legs braked. Breathing heavily, more from anxiety than exertion, he walked forward and peered into the gloom. There was a Dumpster behind the bar, several paces from its rear exit. Above it, a caged, yellow bulb cast a weak and jaundiced light. It illuminated little more than the scratches, dents and graffiti on the metal door and a scattering of trash on the ground.
Standing still, Jackson listened. Unmistakable sounds came from the slot of darkness between the Dumpster and the building’s brick wall. Sporadic, moist sounds. Stifled moans.
He stepped closer. Half in and half out of the pool of sick light, Jackson stopped. His breathing was spasmodic now, chest hitching as he drew in sour air and expelled it. Two figures were pressed together in the narrow space. Two men.
One cracked word came out of his throat. “Adin.”
The sounds faltered, stilled. Jackson’s legs unsteadily carried him forward, but only by a few feet. He felt ill.
His lover, shirt open, drifted out of the shadowed hiding-place. The other person dashed off in the opposite direction, footfalls slapping on pavement and gradually receding. Adin’s face crumpled in abject despair.
“Why?” Jackson whispered.
Like injured wings, Adin’s arms lifted slightly then fell to his sides. “Because I had to.”

To learn more about KZ Snow, please visit her blog: http://kzsnow.blogspot.com