Let Me Feed You…


It seems like ages since I’ve been on a blog tour, but here I am, desperately wracking my brain for something to say about my latest story, God’s Tamales, featured in ORDER UP: A MENU OF LESBIAN ROMANCE AND EROTICA. While I figure it out, have you read Cheyanne’s post from yesterday? Go do that for a second…

Okay. Ready.

I love food. A lot. I wish I didn’t every time I look in the mirror, but that’s another story. I love food the way my character, a Mexican restaurateur, does in my story. The scents, the textures, the chemistry. I tried to show my character in a similar vein as she takes pride in every morsel she serves.

I suppose that leads to another aspect of my story: food is comfort. It’s a way to say I care. To show someone I’m willing to put a lot of effort into their meal, and then stop everything else to spend time with them. To listen without distractions, to share more than nourishment of the body; it’s also about nourishing the soul and relationships with those you love. When you see food that way, as more than simply something to keep your body ticking, it’s hard to be skinny…sorry, heading for a tangent.

Where was I?

Oh. So, in my story, that’s where the character is coming from when a homeless person needs help. In that moment, yes, it’s about food. But it’s also about time; about showing someone they’re important enough for you to sit down with and say, I SEE YOU.

The homeless situation, wherever in the world it may be, breaks my heart. So many people go unseen, unwanted and bereft of human contact every day. And it’s so, so easy to begin the slide that could put any one of us there. Not that long ago, I was in a precarious position myself, and became acutely aware of just how fragile creature comforts and expectations can be.

And so, when I sat down to write this, it was without my usual sex-driven impulses, and more with my…well, my heart, I suppose. And that’s something I usually reserve for the kitchen.

Next up on the blog tour: Lea Daley, over at RG Emmanuel’s place.

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