In the Hot Seat: Author Johnny Miles

In the hot seat with me today is the wonderful, delicious Johnny Miles. A talented author who I now have on my auto-buy list after reading Learning to Samba. But I will let Johnny here tell you all about himself first. :)

For the readers out there who might not know about you or your work, can you please tell them a little about yourself.

Hmmm. What can I tell you that I haven’t told the others? Let’s see. Well, for starters, I’m from Brooklyn, New York and currently live in Fort Lauderdale, Florida with my partner of 15 years. I’ve been a phone sex operator, been in porn, written porn and really do wish they’d find a cure for all diseases of the world haunting us today. I’d like to see an end to poverty and as much as I don’t want to sound like a beauty pageant contestant, I do visualize world peace. Once I visualized whirled peas but that was just a mess.

How long have you been writing? What got you in to writing?

I’ve been writing since I was a kid in school. I only got serious about pursuing it for real when I was laid off from my last job in February of 2009. I’d wanted to write all my life and I’d even attempted several submissions but kept getting rejected. This time, I vowed that if I didn’t get published then it just wasn’t meant to be, that I’d give up a life-long dream and find another. That decision really hurt but I’m glad the Universe interceded!

Where do you get your ideas for your stories, characters?

From anywhere and everywhere. That’s the beauty of inspiration. It can strike at any time from the most revolting of situations to the most poignant.

Are you a by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of writer, or do you have to use an outline to put your collective thoughts into some semblance of common sense?

I’ve done both, actually! My first book, “Casa Rodrigo,” I pantsed all the way. I can’t tell you how many times I got stuck. I didn’t even know where it was going next! With “Lauderdale Hearts,” I wrote character bios and a generic synopsis to give me a guide that allowed for plenty of wiggle room and sight-seeing along the way; if the boys chose to do so. With the last release, “Learning To Samba,” it was a mixture of both.

For the smutty romance I’m currently editing, I hand-wrote character bios along with a chapter-by-chapter synopsis. Interestingly enough, the characters still evolved differently from what I envisioned and chose their own path. They still got where they I wanted them in the end, but it was like sitting them down in a Chevy Cavalier and watching them return in a Corvette. Or, I suppose it’s also like being a parent and asking your kid to do something. They might do it, but on their terms, and as long as it gets done, no harm, right?

Tell us all about your latest or upcoming release. What inspired it?

“Learning To Samba” is my latest release. It came out this past Tuesday, August 16 and it was inspired by one little picture, believe it or not. A picture posted by Kayla Jameth, in a Facebook group created to help inspire us into a story. And it worked!

If you had super powers, what would they be? Why?

Invisibility. That way I could sneak into guys bathrooms and watch them shower, among other things. Oh, and I suppose I wouldn’t mind flying. I do in dreams, which is weird, but extremely exhilarating.

What genre haven’t you tried yet but want to in the future?

All of them! Well, many of them. I’d at least like to tackle a murder/mystery, suspense/horror, a psychosexual thriller, sci-fi/fantasy, action adventure.

What is one thing readers might be surprised to know about you?

That I can sometimes be very, very quiet.

If we asked your muse to describe you in three words, what do you think they might say?

Hmmm. I think I’ll plead the 5th on this one. If I answer incorrectly I might never hear from Muse again and Muse is a fickle enough lover as it is.

What authors can be found in your library of books?

Ooof! Loads of them. Jack Kerouac, JK Rowling, Amistead Maupin, Stephen King, Thomas Hardy, Richard Reed, Thomas Sniegowski, Tennessee Williams, Chuck Pahluniek, and many, many more.

Have any guilty pleasures you want to share with us?

Chocolate. Wine. That silly show on TV called Wipeout. Oh, and every once in a while, UFC. Hmmmmm. All those lovely, compromising positions. Ah, right. There’s also Wizards of Waverly Place. I used to watch Bridezillas on rare occasion and get a laugh but I don’t go there anymore. I try to avoid as much so-called reality tv shows as I can. Writers and actors aren’t being hired because of them.

Is there anything you’re currently working on that you can give us a taste of?

I’m actually working on two things simultaneously. Neither is ready to be exposed as far as excerpts, but I can tell you about them.

The first, “The Rosas of Spanish Harlem,” I’ve only just begun to edit. It’s a smutty, gritty romance story that takes place in 1977 and involves a cross-dressing 18 y.o. virgin who finds that sometimes, what you think you want, leads you to what you need most.

The second is called “Have Bucket, Will Travel.” It’s about a college student who starts up a sexy cleaning business when he loses his scholarships then discovers that the man he’s falling in love, a client, is a professor at his school. They have to keep their budding relationship on the down-low so neither is expelled or fired.

When creating your characters, do you have models in mind or are they totally fictional? (You can attach a picture of one of your character inspirations if you like)

That depends. In the past they’ve been fictional. I’ve also used celebrities and porn stars as models. Sometimes, even just a regular guy walking down the street, or one I see in a coffee shop. So, you never know, you just might wind up being in my next story and you don’t even know it!

If you could be an immortal, what would you want to be? Why?

If I were immortal I wouldn’t have to be anything other than myself. No vampires or werewolves for me. I like reading about them but don’t get into the lore. However, if you asked me WHO I’d wish to be, other than myself, I’d have to say Captain Jack Harkness. If you’ve seen Torchwood or certain episodes of Doctor Who, you’ll understand why. People think I want him but I don’t. I just want to BE him.

What is the hardest/the easiest part of writing for you?

The hardest thing about writing, for me, is that I spend so much time alone. Getting stuck or blocked is rough, too. It’s probably the most frustrating thing in the world I’ve ever experienced; with the exception of certain family members, political idiots, and constipation.

It’s also hard when ideas don’t stop coming and no matter what I do I just can’t seem to write fast enough. Like a few nights ago. They just wouldn’t stop! So I had to get out of bed and jot down ideas quick before I fell asleep again.

Waiting for a response on submissions is also difficult, as is the waiting period between acceptance and release day.

The easiest thing? I don’t know that there’s an easy part to writing. What there is, is an emotional roller coaster from depression to euphoria. There’s also the joyously sneaky suspicion that, if I get an erection or if I’m blubbering throughout a scene in a work-in-progress, I’m bound to be doing something right.

Are you in control of your characters or do they control you?

HA! I dare any writer, newbie or not, to say they’re in control of their character. That’s like saying I’m “Master of my own domain.” Hmm. come to think of it, some just might be in control of their characters. But I kinda like letting them express themselves. It’s like that painter used to say, that one guy with the ‘fro and the really soothing voice, “Happy accidents.”

Of course, sometimes you DO have to reign them of they’ll walk all over you. But, like with real life -- friends, family, children -- there’s a certain give and take. Besides, characters morph, as do stories. They tend to tell you who they want to be as you go. At least, that’s what I’m discovering. But isn’t that like life? If we all received a script at birth and had to act it out, how boring would it be if we didn’t deviate from that path? Especially if it’s a role you don’t like!

Please tell us where we can find you on the web.

Sure! I can be found in several places, just like an ATM! Only I don’t dispense money. I spit out…never mind.

My website is: http://www.johnny-miles.com.

If you’d like to read my blog, the link is: http://johnny-miles.blogspot.com.

And if you'd like to join "The Sweet Spot" which is the Yahoo group I belong to with Sloan Parker and S.J. Frost, the link is: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheSweetSpotMM/ 

Thanks for popping by and I wish you continued success in your writing career.

I assure you the pleasure is all mine. Thanks for having me!

 Learning to Samba by Johnny Miles

Loose Id

Buy HERE

 

After traveling through Europe trying to recover from a loss, reclusive romance novelist Brian Oliver returns to his childhood home in order to find himself and re-establish a severed relationship with his sister. What he unexpectedly discovers, however, is that even an old dog like him can still learn new tricks. Especially if the one teaching is João da Silva, a 25-year-old Brazilian hot-ass with a major thing for Daddies.

Brian soon realizes that with forgiveness and acceptance comes great emotional freedom if he and João can rekindle the deep and burning lust for life he’d once had. Do love, sex, and passion have an expiration date, or can Brian Learn to Samba?

Excerpt:

“Excuse me. Can I help you?” someone called in an accent I couldn’t place. Surprised, I sucked air sharply into my lungs and quickly wiped my tears away.

A young man in his midtwenties stood before me. He was shirtless, his hands on narrow hips, groin thrust toward me. His skin, the color of brown sugar, was naturally smooth. It looked like it would feel soft under my touch. He was toned and defined with round sculpted shoulders, perfectly shaped limbs, and washboard abs. Two veins, one on either side of his belly button, ran down on a slight angle and hid somewhere beneath worn and faded, low-riding jeans that left much to my imagination, several inches below a flat navel.

“Are you…looking for someone?” The young man’s question forced me to glance away from his groin and up into his face. He had full and luscious red lips, slightly parted. They appeared as if he had been sucking on a cherry ice pop.

He had thick, incredibly dark hair, somewhat tousled, and an almost Roman nose.

But it was his eyes that caught my breath and refused to let go. They glittered and sparkled with much life, curiosity, and wonder. Yet something dark and tumultuous, almost broody and intense, lurked near the surface.

I knew on the spot he was trouble, or perhaps just what I needed.

“I…uh,” I started, then cleared my throat, unable to break his gaze. He cocked his head, raised an eyebrow, and recognition flittered in his eyes. He smiled suddenly, and bright white teeth with sharp canines flashed at me. I was reminded of wolves and vampires. I sensed a caged animal, yearning to be free and untethered, somewhere beneath the surface.

“I…know…you.” He spoke slowly, as if searching for a memory or the right words. This new and beautiful face looked like that of a boy. Except he was all man.

“I’m --”

“No! Wait. Let me see. I know this.” He scrunched up his face, and I dared a glance away to make sure I hadn’t stumbled onto the wrong lawn. The number over the door was correct. The porch swing was still up, and the rose bushes Dad had planted in front of the porch railing were still there. Even our initials -- Kay’s and mine -- still showed through on the riser of the front step, no matter how much paint had been used to cover them.

I was definitely in the right place, but who was he? And what was he doing here? A lawn mower sat a few feet behind him. Was he the gardener? Perhaps my sister had thrown caution to the wind and started dating a younger man?

Good for you, Kay. I wish I could…

“I’ve got it!”

I didn’t have time to reply. The young man was suddenly on me. He held me in his strong arms, squeezing me tight as if we were long-lost friends. He pinned my upper arms to my sides, and all I could do was touch his bare flesh, my hands around his small waist. It was enough to disturb seven years of longing. Seven years of desire welled up deep inside me.