Recently Sirens Call Publications released it’s first romance/erotic anthology titles He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. True to form, we’re going to bring you guest posts from most of the authors who contributed stories, letting them share the inspiration behind what they wrote. The last author is this series is Julianne Snow who contributed Glynnis to the anthology.
Julianne Snow is the author of the Days with the Undead series. An author of speculative fiction with roots deep in horror, she has pieces of short fiction in publications from Sirens Call Publications, Open Casket Press, and Hazardous Press as well as forthcoming anthologies from Phrenic Press and the Coffin Hop Charity Anthology. This is her first foray into the world of contemporary romance. You can find her on Twitter, Facebook, Amazon, or on either of her blogs: Days with the Undead and The Flipside of Julianne.
Love Hurts: The Inspiration Behind Glynnis
Sometimes art imitates life. And that’s partly true with my tale Glynnis which appears in Sirens Call Publications’ He Love Me, He Loves Me Not. When considering if I wanted to write something for the call, I knew immediately what side of the coin I would likely come down on.
In life, you don’t always get what you want. But it’s never for lack of trying. And life has a way of ripping your heart right out of chest despite all of your best intentions. It’s your choice if you’re going to be bitter about the hand you’re dealt, or whether you’re going to meet fate with a smile on your face, having lived the best life you could while it lasted.
Glynnis is a tale of love, and one of loss. It stridently echoes the most loving, and the most tumultuous relationship of my life, though admittedly I did reverse the sexes in the fictionalized version. Writing it from my own perspective simply would have been too painful.
To put it all into context, I have loved deeply knowing full well my love might die at any moment. And I’m not being flippant with that statement. The love of my life was diagnosed with cancer shortly after we started dating. There was never any question as to whether or not I would stick around – we had fallen in love with each other from the start. If you have ever loved someone with an illness, you understand where I’m coming from. You spend each and every day living, trying to keep the threat and the thought death at bay. You know that each moment might be your last but you don’t sacrifice it by thinking: why bother, it’s all going to end at some point anyway.
So as you can tell Glynnis is a sad story, but there are moments of joy as well. It’s important to remember that not all love is the picturesque representation that Hollywood wants us to consume. It can be dirty, it can be difficult, and more importantly it can be painful. The main thing to remember is that my fictional character Glynnis and I can both say ‘he loves me’.
All little girls, and some little boys, know the game He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. Each one who plays hopes to end on the He Loves Me petal. But how many of us really find that perfect mate? That one partner who will love us unconditionally for the rest of our lives? How many of us really live the dream, and how many live through the heartbreak of ending on the He Loves Me Not petal?
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not is an anthology of ten stories told from ten different perspectives on love and romance. Some have happy endings, while others end in tears, on a note of desperation, or even a new beginning. A few of the stories are fantasies come true, some steamy encounters of wanton lust, and others still are tales of woe – but the one thing they all have in common – they answer the age old question; does he love me, or does he not?
North Star – Rhiannon Fox
Glynnis – Julianne Snow
The Headless Ladies – Brenda Moguez
Keeping Distance – Alex Chase
Don’t Call Me When He Tries To Kill You – Kerry G.S. Lipp
Freefall – Kate Monroe
Living in the Shades – Vincent Ashcroft
Ruby – Stephanie Nett
Control – Ara Lynn
Railroaded – O.M. Grey
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And now it’s time for an excerpt…
I was twenty-seven the day I met Glynnis. With copper coloured hair that fell in soft curves around her shoulders, she was simply breathtaking. The coffee shop was crowded and I was only in for a moment to get myself a cup of caffeinated reinforcement, but I stopped for a moment by her table on my way out to casually ask what she was so intently fixated on.
I think I may have startled her. Her hand rose to her chest as her head snapped up. I could see the brief glimpse of panic in her eyes, the confusion of being caught unaware. Spying me, a relatively tall man with hazel eyes wearing a business suit smiling down at her, her face broke into a wide smile.
The beauty of her smile reached into her eyes and while I didn’t know her at the moment, I knew that I was going to have to get to know her. Her smile was beguiling and with a small twitch at the corner of her mouth, I could tell she had a mischievous streak to her nature.
My smile grew bigger, to the point I was likely standing there grinning like a simpleton, but I admit I could not take my eyes off of the radiance she exuded. Her polite inquiry brought me strictly back to attention and I paused as I tried to explain to her why I had stopped without looking like more of a fool.
I settled on honesty, partially because of her intense perusal of my face, but I knew at that moment she was the one. If someone had asked me before that moment if I believed in true love, I would have told them to see a psychiatrist. Love at first sight was a misnomer many used for the express purposes of engaging in a night or two of unbridled passion before coming to their senses.
Without hesitation, after the few moments I stared dumbfounded at her of course, I asked her name and if I could sit down. She smiled, moved her purse and jacket to the other chair, then revealed her name was Glynnis MacLeod. I smiled and made a joke about the luck of the Irish to which she promptly informed me that her family’s heritage was Scottish.
I apologized profusely, afraid that I had blown my chances. Her quick smile to what I thought was cleverly disguised panic reassured me that I hadn’t. I introduced myself and offered her my business card. They were really smoke and mirrors; I had gotten the cards made before I landed the job of my dreams – Stock Broker – but didn’t see the harm in dreaming big. One day and all that. Positive thinking my mother called it.
Clearly I remember how she studied that card, turning if round and round in her fingers as she pondered what to make of my fresh face and old suit.
Bullshit. She called me on it completely and was rewarded with my sheepish smile. One of my favourite things about her was her unwavering ability to sense any half-truths and bold-faced lies. It was also one of my least favourites.
Her book all but forgotten, we settled into any easy conversation, peppered with hearty laughs and moments of deep speculation. I learned that she was twenty-five and a graduate student studying English literature. She had 4 siblings, all sisters and 11 nieces and nephews between them. As the youngest, she had always been the baby, even when she had wanted to be grown up, and her move to New York from Pennsylvania had been her first step in gaining a little independence. She shared a modest apartment in a rent-controlled building with an often crotchety old woman who had seven cats. I loved her.
Thank you for taking the time to read all of the inspiration posts for our newest anthology! Until the next one!