D.C. McMillen Comes Out of the Closet and Goes Into the Fire

I gotta stop looking at the cover of D.C. McMillen's novel, The Rusty Nail. The hunk on the cover looks a little bit too much like an ex of mine ... let's see what secrets she has to tell.

I recently came out of the closet to a couple of good friends. No, I did not divulge that I’m a lesbian or that my boyfriend and I are swingers. Honestly, knowing me and knowing my friends, neither of those declarations would be met with much surprise. I did, however, announce that I am an erotica writer.

I was not sure what their reaction would be. After all, I am the girl who almost threw up when the definition of an Alaskan Pipeline was read verbatim from Urban Dictionary. (Trust me, folks, don’t look that one up. It is not something you will ever be able to unlearn.) I am also the girl who is always telling her mother to stop with the dirty jokes, already, while everyone else guffaws.

But there it was. My big secret finally in the open. My friends’ initial reactions were as follows:

      1.  I thought you were going to say you were a swinger. Oh well

      2. Whack! (this was the sound of my friend hitting her husband who offered reaction number 1)

      3. Do any of your books offer tips?

      4. Do you write about Alaskan Pipelines at all? *evil laugh*

      5. How long have we known you and you are only telling us this now?

Of course, after this immediate feedback, a flood of questions and jokes came pouring in. The one question that was not asked, however, was the only one I had truly been anticipating – Why erotica? I’ve heard this question so many times from strangers, a reporter, interviewers, and even readers of the genre so I just expected it from my friends as well. I can only imagine that the question did not come up because my friends intrinsically and intuitively understand that, buried within the multiple layers of my personality, there is a sex fiend is bursting to get out.  Yeah, that sounds about right.

To sum up my experience of stepping out of the erotic closet, I am happy to say that, overall, my friends were overwhelmingly supportive. It makes me wish I had told them sooner. Now, if only they will buy some of my damn books!

~

Louisa, thank you so much for inviting me to guest on your blog! This has been fun.

Before I go, I would like to offer a short blurb and excerpt from my recently released novella, The Rusty Nail.

The Rusty Nail is a novella about a diverse group of characters who somehow find themselves acquainted with a dive bar in the wrong area of town. The entire novella takes place in the span of a single day, and I hope you will be entertained (and turned on) as each character discovers the good, the bad, and the ugly about their partners, themselves, and their hidden sexual desires.
This novella contains blatantly erotic, sexy and graphic M/F, M/M, F/F and even a couple of solo scenes. In other words, this novella is totally hot.  

The Rusty Nail, excerpt

Myrna knocked on the window and I crossed the sparsely furnished bar to unlock the door for her. Her expression was not quite as cranky as it usually was. She was actually quite an attractive lady when her face wasn’t bunched up into a knot and she wasn’t stooped over, acting like she’s twenty years older than she really is.

“How’d it go today, Randall?” she asked.

“Two lesbians, a psychopath, and a gay guy with his straight boyfriend,” I responded.

“Same old same old then,” she retorted. “Why don’t you get yourself outta this place, Randall?”

Good question, I thought to myself. Then a picture of me sitting on my mattress with only a bottle of Jack to keep me company flashed through my head. Sighing, I turned the radio dial from the country station that had been playing all day to the news.

“Why don’t you go on home, Randall,” Myrna said as she pulled a pair of yellow, rubber gloves out of her purse. “It looks like you had a quite a day. I’ll lock up and leave the keys in the coffee can out back. Don’t worry, I’ll bury them real deep under the cigarette butts for you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. McFinn. That sounds real nice.” I paused for a moment and looked at her. She actually had a smile on her face. In this dim lighting, she looked quite fetching. As she scrubbed one of the tables I had only half-heartedly wiped down earlier, her boobs wobbled against her pale pink sweatshirt. “Better yet, why don’t you join me for a soda? It looks like you had an interesting day yourself. Why don’t we swap stories?”

She shook her head and opened her mouth as if to say no but then she closed it before the words came out. She looked me up and down like she was sizing me up.

“Okay, Randall,” she said. “I have had a doozey of a day. No point in waiting to tell Henry about it.” She crossed her hand over her chest and sat down at the table she had just cleaned. I poured two sodas in the cleanest glasses I could find and joined her.

“You have a real nice smile, Mrs. McFinn,” I said as I sat down across from her.

“Please, call me Myrna.” She responded almost shyly.

~

The Rusty Nail is now available on Amazon and other online retailers.

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