Jackson Pollock and the Black Light

PollockEvery once in a while someone asks me what age I write for. Yes, I’ m a mom, with a first grader and a high school freshman. And I did write some children’s stories about ten years ago that are currently sitting on the shelf, unedited. If I do ever brush them off I’ll use my other pseudonym, AmyBeth Drumnadrochit.  But I don’t write for my own kids.

The stories in The  Cities of Luna are written for adults, but in general there is nothing in them that is inappropriate for children. It’s like being on The Tonight Show, where the subject matter might get a little raunchy, but it’s TV so the cussing is bleeped and you know there won’t be any nudity.

In Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy, Star Lord has a great line when Gamora remarks on how filthy his ship is:

If I had a blacklight, this place would look like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Oh, I nearly choked on my pretzel! And when my 6yo gave me a funny look, I told her I wasn’t going to explain the reference to her. In fact, if you’re a kid, and you’re reading this blog, I’m not going to explain it to you either. Go ask your parents.

This is the level of kid-friendliness you’ll find in The Cities of Luna. I don’t avoid adult topics, but you won’t find the explicit sex I write for my romance and erotica.

Here’s a racy scene from Hippie Freaks

Something grabbed her ankle. She had ventured too close to the pile of sheets, pillows, and boyfriend. She pulled away. His grip tightened and he tugged back. “I ate! I promise I did. And I finished all my vegetables. And I slept. Sort-of. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what I was doing here.”

“Good,” Catharine said, switching her tactic to poking him with her foot, trying to find his ribs in the pile of sheets.

“I need a snuggle bunny,” the groggy voice from under the bedding mumbled. Catharine continued poking. Finding a body in the blankets was harder than she thought.

“You need to get up,” Catharine said.

“Why?” Matthew asked, peeking out at last.

Catharine opened her mouth to reply and realized she didn’t have a good answer. She’d left him less than ten hours ago. Yes, he’d eaten, but she was willing to bet he’d spent several hours painting before falling asleep.

“You know, you have a perfectly good bed upstairs…”

“I’ll go to the perfectly good bed if you’ll come with me,” he said, continuing to tug at her ankle.

Catharine let him pull her down, and after a brief wrestling match she was ensconced inside the pile of blankets with him. This was her starving artist. This was the boy whose puppy-dog eyes had won her heart. The mattress stank of oil paints and sweat but she didn’t care.

When she woke up again, she had no idea what time it was. At least it was the weekend, and as long as she hadn’t slept all the way to Sunday night, there was no place she had to be.

She tried to move, but Matthew’s arm tightened around her and he made a pitiful noise in his sleep. She snuggled against him and let her mind wander. His heartbeat was soothing. She had everything she needed right there.

So, go ahead and give a copy of The Cities of Luna to your teen or kid if they’re interested. These stories are not written for them, but I would be a happy author indeed if my stories earned the label of ‘ageless.’

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