Beginning January 1, 2013
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Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tuesday Spotlight: Phaze
Who are Mychael Black and Shayne Carmichael?
Mychael Black is an open book (no pun intended). Short version: Southern (Alabama-born and bred), a Scorpio in every sense of the term, the proud parent of three children, very happily taken, transgendered, and queer to the umpteenth degree.
The long version...
Born and raised in north Alabama, Mychael has always been the quintessential tomboy. While Mychael had female friends, the author was most comfortable with the guys. The older Mychael got, the more he felt this way. A couple of years ago, he finally came to terms with his own gender identity. For a while, Mychael felt as if he was both and was happy with that. As time went by, Mychael felt himself leaning more and more toward the male side of his psyche. Mychael is transgendered, and began living full-time as Mychael on January 1, 2009.
Why does Mychael write what he does?
That's easy. Writing, for him, is therapy. And not only is it free, it's fun.
Mychael loves his cowboys, knights, sorcerers, vampires, angels, demons, and all the other men he's written and have yet to write. They're all a part of the author and always will be. He hopes that you all love them as much as he does.
Who is Shayne Carmichael?
His real name is Shayne Lee Smith. He was born in Itazuke, Japan to American parents. (ie - Dad was in the Air Force). From the age of three to eight, he lived in Taiwan. He's traveled a lot, and only discovered even more he wants to learn about the world.
When not writing, Shayne is a self taught PHP and MySql dynamo. Or at least one would think from the number of scripts he's been begged to write for free. With any spare time left to him, Shayne runs ERWI (Erotic Romance Writers International), aggravates his co-author, Mychael, to no end, often drowns under Mychael's plot bunnies, and holds a forty hour a week job.
Currently Shayne is working on a six book series, The Legends of the Romanorum. Blood Ties, Blood Magic and Blood Sins are being written by Shayne. The Prince's Angel, And the Two Shall Become One, and Forever May Not Be Long Enough are being written by Shayne and Mychael. Included in the writing list are a few other books, Magic and the Pagan, Night Song, and numerous novellas and shorts.
Shayne writes under the pen names of Sable St Germain and Shayne Carmichael. Sable was an RP character he used to play. Shayne Carmichael is a combination of his first name and Cian's (Angel/sorcerer in The Prince's Angel) last name. The character Shayne writes for in The Prince's Angel is Mael Black. That would explain why Mychael's last name is Black, and the character Mychael writes for is Cian.
Shayne's first official publishing contact is with Phaze for the Power of Two, a vampire D/s, BDSM story written with Mychael Black. The status of Phaze author has been one of their goals. Having achieved that, their next goal is to take over the world.
Over the last nine years, Shayne has rped (roleplayed) and written both male and female characters. Gay, lesbian and het (vanilla and non vanilla). You could say he runs the gamut.
He's never believed whatever gender he happens to possess dictates what he can and can't write. And he pretty much ignores anybody who thinks that way. Especially since he's never been a vampire, were tiger, ghost or guide, but he writes about them anyway. Hell, he could be a woman pretending to be a man, or a man pretending to be a woman. He might be a 21 year old sex crazed female or a 60 year old dirty old man. It's the world wide anonymous web, remember? In the anonymous vacuum of web space, nobody can hear you scream. They can't tell your age or sex either.
In the publication of most of his books and for advertising, his persona is male. In the comic strip The Beleaguered Lives of Mychael and Shayne, his persona is female. Why? He likes confusing the readers. Then again, maybe he's a bit of both.
Whether he's a man writing gay, lesbian and kinky het or a woman writing gay, lesbian and kinky het, doesn't matter. If he can draw you into a story with his words, he's done his job.
Who is Shayne Carmichael? Does it really matter?
The duo's newest M/M futuristic paranormal suspense release "2050" from Phaze Books is bound to be a best-seller!
Blurb: Visions of blood and death haunt Richie England. A new serial killer is stalking the city, and Richie finds himself in the middle of a frightening pyschological battle with the killer and the spectres behind the evil.
As the detective in charge of the Vivisectionist case, the last thing Julian Anders needs is a damn psychic telling him about visions. When another body is found, Julian is forced to accept Richie's help. The killer has seen Richie, and with his life at stake, both Julian and Richie need to find the answers and the killer before it's too late.
Richie took a deep breath as he stared at the metal doors with the square glass windows in them. He hated cops. With a fucking passion. However, the visions were getting worse, and he had to tell them--something--whether they believed him or not. Steeling his nerves, he pulled open the door. He ignored the odd looks from others waiting on wooden benches in the small room that doubled as a lobby. When he walked up to the desk, he knew it was now or never.
"I need to speak with the detective covering the Vivesectionist murders."
The woman behind the desk blinked several times before saying a word. "That would be Detective Anders. Might I ask what this pertains to?"
Richie sighed. "You want it in plain English? I'm a psychic. I know where the next murder will take place. I've seen it in a vision."
Somewhere nearby, someone choked on their coffee, then several others chuckled. He hated this. They all knew him; they all knew what he was. And not a damn one took him seriously.
"Y-yes, sir," the woman said as she picked up the phone. "Have a seat and he'll be with you shortly."
Richie nodded and found a bare patch of wall. Then he slid down to the cold tile floor.
When the phone ran, Julian answered it, listening silently to Allison. After a moment, he covered the receiver and looked at Mooney. "Somebody wants to see you."
"Huh?" Mooney gave him a blank look.
"Our neighbor psychic is right outside, and he wants to talk to you."
"Yeah, right, Anders. You ain't dodging. Besides if I were you, I'd listen to the guy. He's helped once or twice and been right."
"He hasn't helped me any." Sighing, he uncovered the receiver and said, "Send him back, Allison."
A few minutes later, Richie looked up to see a uniformed cop standing above him.
"Follow me," the man said with little to no emotion.
Richie got up and didn't even bother looking at him. "Lead the way," he said, waving his hand. He followed the man to an office near the back, then the cop opened the door.
"Mr. England to see you, Detective."
Looking up, Julian's features smoothed into an imperturbable mask as he nodded. "Come in, Mr. England, and take a seat."
Reaching for his coffee cup, Julian downed a healthy swallow as Mooney eyed him with a smirk.
When Mooney turned to glance over at the psychic, he asked, "What you got for us this time, England?"
"Stanton Park," Richie said as he sat down in the uncomfortable leather-covered chair in front of the desk. "That's where you'll find the next one, the next Vivisectionist victim. I've had visions all morning, since about four."
"Visions?" Julian just eyed the young man blankly. Idly he wondered what this odd kid was doing in his office. His gaze slowly swept over Richie in an analytical fashion. He gauged him to be about his brother's age and most like similar interests. Especially since they seem to favor the same notion of dressing in unrelieved black. And not in a business suit.
"Any idea of when, England?" Mooney seemed to have no problem taking him seriously.
"Yes, visions," Richie shot back at him, rolling his eyes. Then he turned and smiled at Mooney. "Good morning, Detective Mooney. As for when, the most I've been able to detect," he said, casting a sideways glare at Julian, "on a Friday, possibly this Friday. Dark."
A brow rose in amusement when Julian noticed Richie's bristling. Sudden pain jolted through Julian's leg as Mooney's foot connected with the front of his ankle.
Julian didn't show by a wince that the hit had fucking hurt.
Mooney smiled back at Richie. "We'll see if we can round a bit of extra help. Anything in the visions to tell what area of the park? SP is a large park."
"I haven't been to Stanton since Samhain," Richie said, "but I think near the clump of trees behind the amphitheater. It's always dark, maybe midnight if I'm judging right."
Turning in his seat, Julian moved his legs out of Mooney's range. Listening to Richie, his expression showed nothing but mild interest in what he had to say. Any of his thoughts were hidden and would probably irk Richie even more if he bothered to read them.
His voice when he spoke contained an urbane smooth tone. "We appreciate the information, Mr. England."
Mooney busied himself hastily writing what Richie said in his notebook. "Yeah thanks, England. If you get any more just let us know."
"Yeah, no problem." Richie stood up and just before walking out the door, he turned to Julian. "That's a pretty nasty bruise on your right ankle, Detective Anders." Then he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Mooney gave him a startled look before he turned back to Julian. Once the door was closed, he said, "So, let's see the leg."
Rolling his eyes Julian ignored the request. "It would be a very good assumption since you kicked me that I would probably have one." He gave Mooney an irritated look. "Do you think the Captain is really going to pay overtime for anybody to hang around SP waiting for a murder to be committed. And on a lead from a psychic?"
"It's worth a shot. If the kid is right, we'd be able to catch the bastard."
"And if he's wrong, the Captain would have our heads for being idiots. Psychic hunches are not adequate enough leads to cover that kind of overtime."
Mooney shook his head as he stood from the chair. "I think you're wrong on this, Anders. I've worked with that kid before. You didn't see what I saw. And you know what else? I don't think he saw me kick you. From where he was sitting he couldn't have seen that close to the floor. Not unless he can see through wood."
"He's a psychic. I'm sure he can see through anything."
Frowning at the sarcasm, Mooney left the room, slamming the door behind him.