From a recent Goodreads review

From a recent Goodreads review of These Words Are True and Faithful:

I just read this book this evening (and into the morning it seems.) I’m relatively new to romances and this is the 1st LGBTQ romance I’ve read. Glad for the for opportunity to expand my horizons – I really enjoyed it. I especially liked the last chapter when Sam laid it all out on the line having grown in confidence since the beginning of the story. 

I hope the author is planning a sequel. I would love to see where Sam and Ernie’s relationship goes.


The winners of Dan Poynter’s Global Ebook Awards for 2020 have been announced. These Words Are True and Faithful has won the gold award for gay/lesbian/LGBT fiction and the silver award for contemporary romance/erotica fiction.

On writing one’s ideological opponents

In queer fiction, I notice a tendency to caricature the author’s ideological opponents as either monsters with whom no communication is possible or morons with whom no communication is possible. The author may attack straw-man versions of opposing positions or simply indulge in name-calling.

To overcome this problem, I recommend researching what people on the other side believe and why, with the goal of being able to pass an ideological Turing test, i.e., present the other side well enough to convince people on that side that you are one of them. For These Words Are True and Faithful, I did enough research on the arguments used by both socially conservative evangelical Protestants and radical feminists that I succeeded in passing ideological Turing tests as members of both groups..

Opening passage of my work in progress (as of this draft)

Beautiful Automaton

Joe Cathcart stood on the roof deck of the beach house, staring at the starry sky and the cargo ships going to and from a nearby port, while the party went on in the house below him.

“What’re you doing up here?” asked the man standing next to Joe on the rooftop deck of the beach house. “It’s a pretty dark night.”

“They often are in this part of the state at this time of year,” Joe responded.

“Fine, be that way,” said the man. “But why aren’t you downstairs at the party? Everyone’s having a good time.”

“I just had to come up here and clear my head.”

“Clear your head of what?”

“That song that was playing just now—”

“—wasn’t highbrow enough for you? This is spring break, not cultural tourism.”

“If you’re going to complete my sentences, at least try to be right. That’s not what I meant at all, and you know it.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just that the song reminded me of something.”

“What something was that?”

“Something that happened to me a while ago.”

“And what was that?”

“I didn’t come here to tell my life story to someone I’d just met.”

“I think I’ll freshen my drink.” The man went back downstairs.

No one would call the song highbrow enough. It was a schmaltzy love song, sung in a swing style. It still reminded Joe of events that he still found upsetting, starting with his first semester at Uxbridge University.