INTERESTING PEOPLE INTERVIEW

Meet: Jacob Z. Flores

 

 

Thanks for having me here at Literary Nymphs. Before we begin, I wanted to let everyone know that as part of the blog tour, I’m holding a contest. All you have to do is leave a comment with your email address to this post, and your name is entered to win a free electronic copy of 3. If a reader happens to follow all my blog stops, then she or he can leave a comment at the other sites a well. This means that someone could enter 7 times for a chance to win the book. At the end of the tour, a winner will be chosen and announced.

What are your 2 favorite careers?

That’s an easy one for me—being a father and being a writer.

Being a father is extremely important to me since I never had one. My parents divorced when I was three years old, and though he lingered in the periphery of my life after the divorce, he disappeared entirely when he remarried. It hurt, badly, and I even called him on when I entered high school. I invited him over and asked why he wasn’t being my father, and his answer was simple (at least for him): “You don’t live with me, and I have a family of my own to raise.”

To say his words destroyed me doesn’t effectively communicate how I felt, but I vowed that when I had a child I would never do to her/him what he had done to me.

When I was finally blessed with a daughter of my own, who is now 12, I made it my life’s mission to give her the unconditional love and support as well as a fatherly presence in her life that I never got from the man who helped create me. I have never gone back on that promise, and I never will. As I’ve learned with parenting, sometimes the bad examples and role models we have in life prove to be the ones we learn the most from, and because I learned those lessons, I am blessed with a darling young lady whose smile make me move mountains.

Naturally, writing comes second. I’ve always loved writing. When I was a kid struggling with my doubts and sexuality, I turned to comic books to chase away my demons. Then, I started writing them. They became quite therapeutic and since then, I’m rarely more at peace than when I’m furiously tapping away at the keyboard.

What is the hardest thing you ever had to do?

That’s a sad, personal story, but the hardest thing I ever had to do was come out to my wife. I loved her a great deal, and she is probably one of the greatest people I know. She was so great that when we first met I thought finding her in college had “cured” me of being gay.

Naturally, I was wrong. Telling her that I could no longer be married to her broke my heart because I knew that I was shattering hers. I had never felt more selfish or guilty in my life. It’s still difficult to recall that day, and when I try, it only comes back in assorted pieces. I think I’ve suppressed that point in my life because the pain was too unbearable.

These days, though, my ex-wife and I get along great and we co-parent as a unified front. Like I said, she’s a remarkable woman.

Favorite music, song or band

I absolutely love Lady Gaga. Not only is her music great, but her message is inspirational to those who feel they are misfits or outcasts. I respect her as an artist and a person.

Are you usually late, early or right on time?

Early to right on time. Being late annoys me. It always has. I think that’s born out of a mother who was a supervisor most of my formative years. She constantly complained about late employees, and she would tell me, “Whatever you do, don’t be late!” If I do arrive late somewhere, I get pissy.

Are you happy with your life for the most part right now?

Yes, I am. My personal and professional lives are on track. I’m not writing full time yet, so when I get there, I’ll be ecstatic!

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

That’s an easy one. Provincetown, Massachusetts. My husband and I have been vacationing there in the summer for the past six years. Not only do we have a blast when we are there, but we have met some of the greatest people in P-town. We’ve made friends with guys from all over the country as well as with the Townies who live there year round. It’s truly a magical place for us.

What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?

Myself. I’ve been a loner for most of my life. I didn’t have many friends, and I learned how to rely upon myself to get through whatever I was facing. If I ever gave up on myself, I would be completely devastated.

 

Title:3

Author: Jacob Z. Flores

Publisher: Dreamspinner

Genre: Contemporary m/m/m romance

Release Date: October 15, 2012

  

What inspired the story?

 

I got the idea for 3 about six years before I actually wrote it. When my husband and I first vacationed in Provincetown, Massachusetts, the gentleman who picked us up at the airport told us he was a part of a trio.

Needless to say, we were surprised. We’d never met anyone who was in a committed relationship with two other people. We’d heard about such relationships in fiction and film, but never dreamed we’d meet one in real life. Well, maybe if we traveled to Utah.

After meeting the other two men as well as other trios, I started thinking: just how does such a thing happen? The result was 3.

 

EXCERPT:

 

“I think someone’s growing chicken wings,” Xavier said, clucking like a chicken.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Justin asked as his mind once again returned to the present. The DJ was spinning the latest mix of “We Like to Party” by the Vengaboys, and the gays were tearing it up on the dance floor. “And I’m no chicken.”

“Then go pick him up.”

 

“Pick who up?” Justin asked, aggravated. “Are you blind to how many people are here?”

 

Xavier laughed and took another gulp of his beer. “I’ll give you one minute to do it before I go get him and bring him to you. Which, as you know, is a penalty, punishable by—”

“Two tequila shots, I know,” Justin said, cutting him off. “Will you just point him out to me? And be more specific than ‘walking through the door’.”

“He’s the Mexican leaning against the wall on the right.”

“Really?” Justin asked. “Mexican is being specific? We live in San An-fucking-tonio!”

Xavier laughed like a fifth grader at recess, something he did whenever he teased Justin, which meant he heard the snicker on a daily basis. “He’s wearing a black muscle shirt and acid-wash jeans. Thick black hair. He’s also wearing a puka shell necklace that all the fags are wearing these days.”

Justin scanned the crowd and saw him, leaning against the far wall with a pink Cape Cod in his hand. He was muscular and rugged, and way out of Justin’s league. Well-sculpted arms and shoulders framed the black shirt. Even at a relaxed stance, his biceps and triceps were clearly defined. Justin hated him for that. He had been working on his arms for months and had yet to develop such muscle tone.

 

The muscle shirt also clung to his body as if the fabric was wet, and it revealed an absence of love handles on his tightly packed form. Small, perky nipples poked out from the cloth, and the shirt’s fabric ended about an inch before the jeans began. A treasure trail of hair started at his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of the jeans. Just below the waistband was a package ready to be delivered.

“Do you see Puka Shell Boy?” Xavier asked.

“Yup,” was all Justin could say.

“Then go get him.”

Justin swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to end well. The image of a B-52 going down in flames flashed before him.

Then he noticed Puka Shell Boy’s friend.

His friend was a few inches taller than both Puka Shell Boy and Justin. If he had to guess, he would put him at almost six feet tall. Sandy-blond hair lay perfectly manicured and parted to the left. Longer strands of hair curled inward at his cheekbones and lightly kissed the most unbelievable alabaster skin Justin had ever seen. His skin looked smoother than silk, as if a sculptor had spent hours chiseling the precious stone into perfection. Draping his skin was a green short-sleeve button-down, neatly tucked into his dark-blue denim jeans. The shirt was fitted but not painted on him like Puka Shell Boy. His lean body resembled a dedicated runner and was neither waifish nor frail.

Then Justin noticed his eyes. Dark-green tinted eyes decorated his features, magically cutting through the dimly lit bar and outshining the sparkling disco ball. They weren’t a green he had seen before. He had seen light green and even olive green eyes, but these eyes looked to be made of jade. They were a deeper, richer green hue than he had ever seen before in his life. They looked exotic and expensive, found only in jewelry from a faraway Asian country like China or Japan.

They were breathtaking. Justin didn’t understand how people were walking by him and not staring into those eyes. He could stare at them for the rest of the night.

“What’s the matter with you?” Xavier asked. “You’re standing there with your mouth open like a fucking retard.”

“He’s so beautiful.”

“No shit!” Xavier exclaimed. “Think of him as my New Year’s present to you. You just have to close the deal.” Xavier put his arm around Justin’s neck, Xavier’s sign of friendship and love. “By the end of the night, Puka Shell Boy will be on his back looking up at you, or you know, looking down at you on your back.” Xavier then pushed Justin forward. “Now, hurry up. It’s almost midnight.”

Justin didn’t know what came over him. All it took was a simple shove, and he was crossing the room toward the stranger with the perfect skin and the amazing green eyes. He felt drawn to him, as if he were caught in an unbreakable gravitational field.

Puka Shell Boy noticed Justin coming first. He elbowed his green-eyed friend and flashed a disinterested grin, most likely thinking Justin was coming to talk to him. He wasn’t. Puka Shell Boy no longer existed in his world.

As he approached, the crowds around him got louder. Apparently, the stroke of midnight was approaching. Someone was speaking on a microphone, most likely the drag queen hostess for the night’s festivities, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. All he could see were the green eyes and the white skin pulling at him like the moon pulls on the ocean.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Closer still he drew, passing by couples with their arms around each other, preparing for their New Year’s kiss.

“… seven, six, five, four…”

Six feet from the most beautiful man he had ever seen, Justin found he was holding his breath. He had to remind himself to breathe for fear that he would pass out only a few feet away from his intended. Up close, his eyes were more radiant than from across the room. Flecks of gold glinted within the green irises.

“… three, two…”

Then he was standing before him. Puka Shell Boy leaned next to his friend, amazed that he wasn’t the object of Justin’s attention. He whispered something in his friend’s ear, but his friend wasn’t paying attention. He, too, was staring straight at Justin.

“… one ….”

Justin reached up and put his left hand around the green-eyed beauty’s neck. Pulling his head toward him, Justin crossed the remainder of the distance.

Their lips met, and the world suddenly came crashing back to life. Noisemakers exploded throughout the club. People were yelling “Happy New Year,” and confetti and glitter were tossed about. The DJ began playing “Auld Lang Syne.”

Through the noise, the revelry, and the singing, the two never stopped kissing. Their tongues jostled in each other’s mouths as they each inhaled the other’s hot passionate breaths.

Never had Justin been more excited about a new year.

 

Second novel (The Gifted One) has been accepted by Dreamspinner

Where can we find your website?

You can find me at www.jacobzflores.com