Editing, Editing, and More Editing

I've figure out something: whenever other authors give you advice regarding the writing process, they tell you what works for them.  However, there's no guarantee the same things will be effective for you too. Listening to the advice is still useful though, because it can give ideas for new things to try.

When I started out I flew by the seat of my pants and crafted my stories slowly and fastidiously. Consequently I could give them to my beta reader chapter by chapter. Then halfway through Last Stop I realized I had to make at least a rough outline for the rest of the plot or I'd get lost. I knew how the story would end and the various things that needed to happen to get there, but linking them up in the right order was a challenge.

Also while writing Last Stop I lost steam twice in an OMFG-I'll-never-finish-this! fashion. And that book is barely over 50,000 words.

Since then my writing process changed. I make an outline in the form of a bullet point list, have names for my supporting characters and fictional locations, character sheets, etc. This is all flexible, of course—surprise supporting characters pop up, MCs reveal secrets about themselves, the plot thickens—but overall the underlying structure is there.

Another huge change I'd made is that now I rush ahead and write a very rough first draft. When I get stuck on something I leave a note and move on. I write what I call naked dialogue—without beats or even tags. I give myself stage directions, leave reminders to phrase something better, check accuracy of details, etc.

The benefit of this approach is that I reach the end relatively fast and without getting bogged down. To make the MS actually readable I have to do several passes of edits. First, I go through it and fill in the holes. Next I do another pass and refine the details. Then I make an ebook file and put it on my ereader—and let it sit there for a few days. The eventual read-through is the red pencil phase—I take copious amounts of notes, followed by another round of edits. And that's when the MS finally makes it to my beta readers.

Reading feedback from the beta readers is my favorite part but also the most painful one. This is when I get over my secret fears (This sucks! I suck!) but at the same time those pesky beta readers are excellent at skewering the lazy bits I thought I was getting away with, plus pointing out weak points I missed.

I don't know if there's anyone for whom writing comes easy, but if they exist, they have my full envy. Every time I send a manuscript to my editor I'm astonished I managed to get there.

Status Update

I've been editing Dead in the Desert (sequel to Dead in L.A.) for over a week, with short breaks for cover designs. My brain is fried, but I'm close to finishing. Of course, I'll have to immediately jump on editing a novelette.

My writing process has changed since I started. I penned Hanging Loose and Last Stop in a thorough, chapter-by-chapter way, so I was able to send them to my trusty beta-partner, Josephine Myles as I went. The problem with that method was that I write slowly and even halfway through the end seemed unreachably far away. During Last Stop I lost steam twice, and was in the danger of not finishing at all. I had to seriously rally to get back on track. And that book is only 55,000-words long.

So now I rush toward the finish line—as much as a turtle can rush. If something threatens to bog me down, I leave it for later. I write "naked dialogue" without tags or beats. Often times, instead of going into details, I give myself stage directions. If I notice word repetitions or other things that need fixing, I highlight them and move on. I leave notes to remind myself of things that might need research or checking details in previous books.

The end result is that I have two passes of edits before sending the MS out for beta. First, I go through the story and fill in all the wholes, do all the fine-tuning. Next, I compile the story into a mobi format and upload it onto my Kindle app. Then… I do nothing for a few days, because at the point I just need a damn break. When I finally get around reading the story, I highlight problem areas, take notes, and follow it up another round of edits.

Interestingly, in case of every story comes a point when I just hate the whole damn thing. That's when I know I'm almost done.

Wednesday Word: Amuse-bouche

amuse-bouche

n - an appetizer before a meal  

[from French amuser  amuse, gratify + bouche  mouth]

The Eskimos may know a thing or two about snow, but the French know all about food. It's no accident so many of our culinary words come from them. Personally, I find food far more interesting than snow. Of course, amuse-bouche is just a fancy way to say appetizer, but after watching hours of food-porn on TV, it feels like an everyday word to me. Even if it sounds like amuse-bush. Vaguely kinky, isn't it.

By the way, it took me forever to figure out the spelling of coq-au-win. The pronunciation sounds like coco-van, doesn't it?

On an unrelated note, I'm flabbergasted. (Another good word.) My book, Last Stop, that came out almost a year ago doing smashingly in the UK Amazon store. The sales there started picking up in December, and then kept growing. I have no idea why, but I'm very pleased about it, nonetheless.

First Lines

Books on writing invariably will advise you to hook your readers from the very start. It's a good advice. The first version of my first novella—or short novel, depending on whom you ask—started with a chapter-long exposition. It was terrible. Fortunately, my beta reader told me so. The second version was marginally better, but only in the third did I manage to start with the action, instead of the backstory.

Now that I have few titles out and a few more in the pipelines I figured I'd make a compilation of first lines of my novels and novellas in chronological order, just for fun. Here they are:

I woke on a lumpy futon, tangled in my sheets and a dilemma: what was I to do for the next two days? (Hanging Loose)

It’s hard to talk with your mouth full of cock. (Academic Pursuits)

The first light of dawn slashed through the darkness, spilling the new day over the unsuspecting land. (Last Stop)

It's the randomness of things that scares me the most—not knowing what fate or blind chance have in store. (Dead in L.A.)

It was Gabe’s thirteenth straight perfect summer night in Chicago since he’d arrived back from Budapest. (Spirit Sanguine)

Dying sucked hairy monkey balls. (Dead Man and the Restless Spirits)

Karma cursed me because I called her a bitch. (Secrets and Ink)

The naked man came out of nowhere. (Werewolves of Venice Beach)

The last four are in various stages from soon-to-be-published (Spirit Sanguine) to the barely-started (Werewolves of Venice Beach). The latter aims to be a short story and that line might even change, but what the heck, right?

I'm thinking of making a similar list of my favorite books.

Good News Thursday

It's a rare gloomy day here in L.A. but I woke up to a couple of good news. My novel, Spirit Sanguine, now has a release date: 4/14/2013. Sanguine features Harvey, the decidedly non-brooding vampire, and Gabe, a conflicted slayer.

In another excellent news, Last Stop got a very nice review on Smitten with Reading. I love late reviews. They liven up the dead space that starts a few months after a release and lasts till the next one. It's the time of self-doubt and anxiety, so it's wonderful to hear that someone likes your book.

Random Ramblings

I lost internet connection for almost a whole day earlier this week, and I hated it. The sad part is, I should've been thankful for the break from forums and other venues of procrastination, and I could still check my email on my phone. Instead I got irritable, and went grocery shopping in a huff. Well, at least I have food in the house now.

It's hard to believe there was once a time without internet, yet I'm old enough to remember it. Hell, I can remember typewriters clearly.

 I rarely comment on reviews, but I have to say I'm very pleased with how Last Stop has been received. Not everyone liked it of course, but the books got good ratings from Joyful Jay, Tam, Smexy Books, Pants Off Reviews, Joyfully Reviewed, and Well Read. Reviews are for readers, not authors, but I picked up a few useful morsels for future reference from critical comments. 

The biggest surprise was a smacking 5 heart rating from Sizzling Hot Book Reviews.  It's not a site I knew, and I realized why when I checked out the review policy page—they don't accept m/m. Yet, somehow one of their reviewers not only read Last Stop, but really liked it. That put a smile on my face.

I have a suspicion a lot of women who haven’t read m/m but find the idea of it odd would really like it if they just gave it a try. It worked for me.

 In related news: I've written a free short story in the vein of Last Stop. Its title is Seduction, and it's available on Smashwords, All Romance eBooks, and on Goodreads. I plan to make it available on Amazon too, but not till it's approved by Smashword and sent to the various retailers, including Barnes & Noble.

Making a book free on Amazon is not a simple process. You have to make your book free elsewhere first. When you upload to Amazon you're forced to price it at least at $0.99. So next you need to ask all your friends to click on the "tell us about lower price" link. Then you wait for Amazon to match it, and set the price to zero. Sometimes it never happens. There's no knowing why, but I suspect it might have to do with which other retailers carry the book.

So that's the news form Lake Wobegon LA-LA Land.

News Bits & Random Ramblings Where Neil Gaiman Keeps Butting In

If common marketing wisdom can be trusted—and who'd dare to question it—I'm a failure. I'm supposed to be blogging, twittering, and filling Facebook with outpourings of wonderful me. The problem is, I'm a grouch, and social media wakes up my antisocial tendencies. Also, unlike Neil Gaiman, I live a boring life. All the drama and action happens in my head—just the way I prefer it.

I've been writing—two-thirds through a trio of short stories about a skinny necromancer with penchant for body piercing, whose new neighbor turns out to be a (male) witch with a secret. I took a break from it to pen a short story, which I plan to put out for free.

Short stories take me a disproportionate amount of time. They require the use of a different set of writing muscles, and it can be a challenge. Some are on the opinion it's impossible to tell a satisfying story under twenty or thirty thousand words, but anyone thinking so only need to read Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman. A Study In Emerald especially blew me away. After finishing it I was saddened by the fact that I'll never be able to read it for the first time again.

Oh but I should be talking about me, not blasted Gaiman. Another short of mine, Tomfoolery has stuck to the top twenty of Amazon's freebie GLBT romance list for over three months now. I'm proud of the kid—it gets knocked off time to time, but claws its way back. Meanwhile Jo Myles' Pole Star seems firmly stuck in the #7 position. At least, I designed the cover for it.

Speaking of short shorts, and not the kind Kevin Kline wears in The Big Chill, one of mine will be appearing in an anthology by Cleis Press.

Sexy Sailors is available for pre-order, although the release date is not till November. I think. Jo Myles has a story in the collection, and I think JL Merrow too. I don't know who else, but it's edited by Neil Plakcy. It's all erotica, not romance--you've been warned.

Next up: I need to plot my third paranormal story. I think frogs will take center stage. Or maybe toads. Since Last Stop I've been writing plottier stories, and I'm still amazed every time that I manage to come up with mostly coherent scenarios. Going on a hike, away from the internet, and other distractions has proven very fruitful. Otherwise I'm a lot like Lisa Simpson in The Book Job. It's one of the best Simpson episodes in a long time, and not because that blasted Gaiman plays himself in it.

Curse you, Neil Gaiman, curse you!

PS. This is the point where I'm supposed to tag my post with Neil Gaiman, so all those innocents looking for him get lured into my web of hairy man-love. I will refrain.

For The Love Of Bears

Today I wax poetically about the beauty of hairy men over at L.C. Chase's blog. C'mon by, and weigh in on this important matter.

Giveaway!

You have a chance to win a free copy of Last Stop on Joyful Jay's website. To make things more enticing there's also a sexy and exclusive excerpt from the book.  The giveaway runs till Friday.

Gay Pride LA

It was last weekend, and I was there. I have the sunburn to show for it too. If you'd like to see more pictures and a cheeky commentary by Jay from Last Stop, head over to Chicks & Dicks.

I've totally given up on photographing events like this with my big expensive camera--it always turns out crud. So now I use the iPhone. It has nice apps to add frame and other effects.

The drawback of the phone is the highly reflective surface. Half the time I have no idea if I'm getting the framing right. Of course, photographing at high noon in LA is an exercise in futility anyway--there will be sharp shadows everywhere.

It's Alive!

Release day is when the author goes bonkers, climbs on the virtual rooftops and starts shouting like a mad man. Look at me! BUY! BUY! It's called promo. It certainly has its uses, but when done in excess, it tends to annoy the very people you're trying to attract. I'll try to keep my rooftop—aka guest blog—appearances entertaining at least.

For now I want to talk about Gin Wigmore. You probably never heard of her, but that's because she's Australian. My first exposure to her music was during the end credits of the season four finale of Weeds. It sounded a bit like Amy Winehouse, but the lyrics were unfamiliar. After a little search I found out it was Hey Ho by Gin. (It's such a great name. I wish my name was Gin. Or Ginn.) I liked the music, so I bought her album.

I especially liked Too Late For Lovers, partially because it seemed to fit the novel I'd just started working on. The song has one of those nonsensical lyrics that could mean anything, yet it had an eerie resonance with the POV of Jay--one of my protagonists. So Too Late For Lovers became my theme song. It even helped me to with the title. I took Last Stop from a frame of the video (3:02):

The neon sign made my its way into my story too. By the way, I've photographed the diner from the video, so I know the sign had been added by the film crew.

Looks far less romantic, even with that billboard there, doesn't it? I'll have to go back one day, and shoot it when the light is better.

Right. There's something I'm supposed to say here… Oh yea, Look at me! BUY! BUY!

Five More Days!

Seriously, the suspense is killing me. The past two months seem to have flown by, but these last few days are crawling.

On the bright side, Last Stop is one of six featured June titles at Samhain. Using the coupon code "BEACHREADS" readers can save an extra 30%. 

Last Stop Is Coming Out In two weeks, And There Will Be NO Blog Hop

I'm just too damn lazy and unorganized to make one happen. I'll have a few blog appearances though.

June 3, Stumbling Over Chaos: Fabulous Chris is organizing a giveaway for the book.

June 16, Chicks & Dicks: A recap of the LA Pride Parade of this year. I expect there will be pictures.

June 18, Cup-O-Porn: The theme will be coffee and inspiration, gratuitously illustrated by half naked men and other hairy creatures.

June 27: Appearance at Jo Myles' blog. I don't know what I'll be gabbing about yet. Maybe something naughty. We'll see.

June 28, L.C. Chase's blog: I will wax poetically about hairy men.

July: I'll be partaking in the Sizzling Summer Reads 2012 Party at The True Romance Reviews. There will be opportunities to win a copy of the book.

Till then here is an excerpt:

Chapter One

    NT: I’ve got a job for you.

    SR: I’m all ears.

    NT: Not over the phone. Meet me at Mario’s tonight at six. Don’t be late.

Jay Colby hated waking up “with the chickens”, as his nana used to say, but he had no choice—some guy was shaking him, trying to get him to rise.

“Wake up, kid. This is as far as I can take you.”

For a second Jay couldn’t remember where he was and why, and who the man was. Then it all came back—his hasty departure from Denver, the ride in the eighteen-wheeler, and Doug, the driver, who was now keen on getting rid of him.

“I go a little farther, but can’t have you in the cab when I get there, and this is the last truck stop before,” Doug explained.

“Yes, of course. Thanks for the ride.” Jay rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

He unbuckled himself, collected his backpack and jacket, and cast an eye around just to make sure he left nothing behind. He was halfway out of the cab when Doug spoke up again.

“I could put a word out for you on the CB if you want.”

“No. Thanks. I’ll be fine. Have a good trip,” Jay said, slamming the heavy door shut. The truck lurched forward and was soon back on the freeway.

Jay needed to hitch a ride for the next leg of his trip, but he wasn’t just going to hop into a truck without getting a feel for its driver first. He was good at reading people—with the exception of the men he got involved with, as his latest fiasco had proven yet again. Jay adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and looked around. It wasn’t much of a truck stop, just a gas station and a big dirt parking lot. No matter, he’d find a ride. He’d been doing well enough so far. Doug had been a stereotypical trucker—middle-aged, thick around the middle, and his face framed by a scraggly beard. He’d also been shockingly heterosexual for a guy who’d pick up a young guy in a truck stop. That puzzle was solved fast. Doug was a talker, and Jay served to relieve the monotony of a long trip. At first Jay was grateful for the setup. Screwing truckers wasn’t against his principles by a long stretch, but Doug was no dreamboat. However, by the time they got to Casper, Wyoming, Jay wished that the trucker would just shut up and fuck him instead.

So, now Jay was here, in some dinky town along the freeway, somewhere in Montana. At least he thought it was Montana. He decided to stretch his legs first, so he picked a direction randomly and started walking. Maybe the crisp morning air would help to get rid of his shitty mood. The spectacular disaster his last love affair turned into still gnawed on him, and he hadn’t been decently fucked in ages. He kept telling himself that Seattle would be different, but the suspicion that the problem was him and not the cities, kept bugging him. Not for the first time in his life, he wished for a sign—anything to give him direction.

Help Wanted wasn’t what he had in mind. Hell knew why he knocked on the door of Sam’s Diner, but when Mr. Dark and Handsome opened it, Jay decided that sticking around for a little while wouldn’t be so bad.

The man was taller than Jay by many inches, broad-shouldered and muscular. He had a strong jawline, a straight, somewhat-thick nose, and brown eyes that seemed to see straight through Jay. The few silver strands peppering the dark hair over his temples made him especially alluring in Jay’s eyes. Thick hair covered his forearms too, promising more under his clothes. Jay had a finely tuned gaydar that picked up even the slightest hint of bi-curiosity. There was definitely a spark of interest in those dark eyes.

Sam was about done refilling the ketchup bottles when the insistent rapping on the door drew his attention. It was a good half an hour before opening, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of the locals or a trucker fed up with gas-station hot dogs had bothered him. Sam opened the door, in the mood to give them a piece of his mind, but stopped short. The guy standing there was definitely not a trucker, and sure as hell wasn’t local. Coldwater was a small town, and if the young man had been from around there, Sam would have noticed him by now. One of Sam’s eyebrows quirked north as he took in the slender body encased in jeans and a red hoodie, more snugly fit than local sensibilities would allow.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked.

“Hi, I’m here about the job,” the guy said, tilting his head toward the sign in the window.

That sign had been there for three days since Marylou ditched her apron and blew town, and Sam was getting desperate. Hence, he should’ve had every reason to rejoice, but was uneasy instead. This was trouble, Sam knew it right away. He could smell it in that mix of sweat, stale cigarettes, diesel fuel and young male rolling off the guy. For starters, he was too damn young, a kid really. Sam surveyed the smooth face and tousled, dirty-blond hair. The kid was lean, fresh, full of smooth curves that life hadn’t yet ground down to hard edges. A runaway or a drifter, judging from the overstuffed backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“Do you have any experience?” Sam asked gruffly.

“Plenty,” the kid replied, and damn if it wasn’t innuendo sparkling in those blue eyes.

“I mean, in a restaurant,” Sam added, without expressing surprise, pleased or otherwise.

“That too.”

“How old are you?” Sam looked him over one more time, not missing the unspoken invitation of the kid’s forward-thrust hips.

“Twenty-two. I can show you my driver’s license,” the kid added, catching Sam’s skeptical expression.

“You have a name?”

“Jay. You’re Sam?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Well, come on in then.” Sam stood aside at last, convinced he was letting trouble into his life.

Jay walked in and made himself comfortable. Sam explained the what and where—it was no rocket science. The kid would probably be gone by lunch time, Sam told himself.

As if to prove him wrong, Jay busted ass on his first day. They spent the breakfast shift in an uncoordinated scramble around each other and the kitchen appliances, but by lunch they found a working rhythm led by a shorthand of gestures and barked-out words.

“Move it, old man, you’re making me look bad,” Jay said loud enough for nearby customers to hear.

Sam smacked the metal spatula to the griddle without turning around. The angry metal-on-metal clunk was meant to convey the message “Watch it, kid”, but secretly Sam was enjoying himself. Jay had spunk for sure, and Sam liked it.

Looking at the kid, anyone with a little experience in such things could pick up his queerness, but he wasn’t so obvious to the untrained eyes of the residents of Coldwater. Aside from a few sideways looks, mostly from truckers, the customers were happy to have friendly and efficient service. Especially since Marylou had never managed better than a bubblegum-popping disinterest.

“…and what can I get for your sister?” Sam caught the snatch of conversation and turned his head to see Jay shamelessly flirting with a customer. Leanne Harris was a harried single mother whom nobody had mistaken for her teenage daughter’s sister for…well, ever. Yeah, the kid knew what he was doing.

“Good tip?” Sam asked later when Leanne left beaming, with sulky daughter in tow.

“An extra buck probably,” Jay agreed.

“So you really have experience?”

“Always have the customers leave smiling!” Jay said and winked at Sam.

As Jay turned and sashayed away, Sam’s gaze followed him. The snug jeans flaunted a fine round ass. Sam had to drive off the carnal images invading his thoughts. He really didn’t need complications, as he kept reminding himself.

Later, when Sam took a bag of trash to the dumpster out back, he’d found Tommy waiting for him at the door.

“I haven’t seen you for days. Did you have good time?” He bent down and scratched the orange tabby behind the ears.

The cat stood to greet him, rubbing his furry face against the legs of Sam’s jeans. Sam got food and water for Tommy and watched the cat scarf it down. A minute later Tommy took off with a farewell meow. Off to chase tail, no doubt. Sam envied the frisky feline. The kind of tail Sam liked to chase was in short supply in Coldwater, Montana—not that he’d do any chasing locally, anyway. His infrequent trips to Butte’s sparse gay scene barely scratched his itch. Yet, he only had himself to blame for his predicament. Cause and effect. The sudden and unexpected arrival of his new waiter could change that, but Sam was uncertain if he wanted it.

The diner served only breakfast and lunch. Maybe it didn’t make the best business sense, but Sam didn’t give a crap. It was his place and he made the rules. They closed up at three and by four they were done with the cleanup. At 4:05 they stood at the back of the diner, reeking of frying oil and bacon. Sam frowned at the sight of the uncertain figure of Jay hovering at the threshold. Sam knew perfectly well he should keep his mouth shut.

“Where are you staying?” he asked anyway.

“Nowhere yet. I was gonna ask you if you could recommend somewhere cheap.” The way Jay looked at Sam, there was calculation in it, sure, but behind that hid something unguarded and raw that further ruffled Sam’s hard-won equilibrium.

“You can stay with me for now,” he said quickly, before he could change his mind.

The expression that lit up Jay’s face was an odd combination of shrewd and innocent. Sam had the sudden urge to put a whole new range of expressions on that face, but he quickly pushed those urges to the back of his mind.

Hello Sailor!

This post has nothing to do with has nothing to do with handsome young man working shoulder-to-shoulder, out on the sea month after month, with only each other for company. Absolutely nothing. Yeah, I know, false advertising. They look nice though. Feel free to fantasize.

I'm done writing the vampire novella trilogy, but can't stop editing. It's weird--by this stage I usually hate the book and just want it off my hands. However, this time I'm still enjoying working on it. I don't know if it's a good or bad sign.

 In other news, Tomfoolery is now available on Amazon too for free. It's been hovering in the top 10-15 for the last couple of weeks, and has few good reviews. One of them complements the copyediting—it made me proud, as I went into pains to ensure a clean copy.  Typos, misspelling, and grammar mistakes can be seriously distracting.

Finally, Academic Pursuits made it to Amazon too. It took two months, and I'm not too thrilled about that.

On the other hand, Last Stop won't be out till early June, but it's already there. Waiting for a book release is like sitting on anthill and trying not to think about it. What I need to think about is the dreaded promo. At least I've sent copies out to reviewers, so I can tell myself I'm not slacking. Mrs. Condit already gave a positive review—it was a nice surprise.

 I'm completely stuck with my latest writing project, a sequel to Hanging Loose. I have story outline, list of players, even names of fictional places in the story. I even took a trip to Venice Beach for inspiration. All I have to show for it is sunburn. 

Just a Quickie

I've been doing a lot of editing lately, being at different stages of three different stories. Last Stop is done at last. Naturally, as doing the very last pass where you're are only allowed to change typos and big mistakes, I had the urge to change a billion little things. Oh, well.

The vampire novella trilogy is this [ ] close to being done.  This is probably the hardest part, when the finishing line is in sight, but you're not quite there yet.

All this editing made me feel cooped up, so I took a trip to the arboretum. The weather was perfect, and I ended up walking around for hours. Far bit longer than I planned, as I got lost. I have no sense of direction at all. I'm fine as long as a place has a grid-like layout, but anything else and I'm toast. Anyway, I got a chuckle out of seeing the tree above.

I Got Cover!!!

Samhain did what few publishers do: they agreed to use my own design for my novel. I love them for it. Check that baby out!

Last Stop is scheduled to come out on June 12, 2012.

My novel, Lost Stop is scheduled to be published in June by Samhain Press. It feels like a million years away, however I got an official blurb already. I'm so glad publishers take charge of it--like so many writers, I suck at blurb and synopsis writing. Behold:

Sam Mayne’s life is as dull as the dishwater in his small-town Montana diner, and that’s just how he wants it. Quiet, uneventful, safe from his shadowy past. The breezy young drifter who answers his help-wanted ad makes him uneasy in ways he dare not examine too closely. Except he can’t help but be pulled in by Jay Colby’s spunky attitude, endless stories, and undeniable sex appeal.

Fresh off yet another romantic disaster, Jay doesn’t understand his attraction to the taciturn line cook, but there’s no fighting the chemistry that lands them in bed together. Where Sam’s subtly dominant streak takes command, and Jay delights in discovering the pleasures of his submissive side.

Safe in the assumption their relationship is temporary, neither lover holds back when the heat is on. Until Sam’s deadly past catches up with them with a vengeance, forcing him to drop the life he’s built, pick up his lover, and run. As danger cuts closer to the bone, Sam and Jay are forced to face the truth. About themselves, about the depth of their love—and the newly forged bonds that are about to be tested to the limit.