Wilde Oats is an online literary magazine. It celebrates gay and bisexual fiction. It embraces the joys and agonies of life for gay and bisexual men, from hard gritty realism to wild flights of romantic fantasy.
Wilde Oats has gone through some big changes in recent months: we have moved to a new server and changed our appearance. The journal is published three times a year - in April, August and December. Between issues, you can find out what's happening, read snippets of new stories, see new artwork, and keep up to date by visiting us here.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Here's a painting from one of the artists we discuss, Michael Breyette:
You can read the article and see the other great artists here.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Issue six has been uploaded. The theme for this issue is historical. Seven stories, a chapter from Nan Hawthorne's "An Involuntary King", a new serial and reviews of books and films.
You can read it here.
[The illustration is by Eve le Dez, and it's for the story Ten Pages, Single Spaced]
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Look out for his story in the new issue of Wilde Oats, available next week!!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Rory McGuinness sat on the straw on the floor of the shed he was tossed into the night of his arrival at Hucknall with O’Donnell. He piled some of the mildewing straw up to create some insulation against the increasingly chilly nights. He knew he must smell of the mildew and worse.
O'Donnell had not sought satisfaction from him while on the journey. Perhaps he might have to be discreet while in camp. It was three days since their arrival where O'Donnell had only his trusted men with him. He wondered why O’Donnell did not send the guards to drag him to his chamber. Had Rory mistaken his purpose after all? If so, what was the reason he was here?
The shed was built of vertical pieces of local wood lashed onto a wood frame and thatched with what was now damp straw. Being a storage place, no effort was made to stop up the gaps with moss or mud. Rory pressed wet straw in the worst offenders. There was no window, of course, for which he was grateful, but he could see enough of the fortress through the places where the wood slats did not come together. A bucket served for his waste, and he was fed daily what looked like the soldiers’ same supper. Most of the time, he sat in his warm corner trying to hold in his body heat.
Several times Rory noticed O'Donnell among the figures that moved about outside his prison. He saw him glance with an unreadable expression over towards him, but avert his face and hurry on his way. Rory wondered when O'Donnell would finally press his desire, wondered what he himself would do. Would he submit in order to survive? Alternatively, would he refuse and no doubt die? Would he have any warning and be able to prepare himself?
Thursday, November 4, 2010
We've already mentioned one great illustrator for Wilde Oats, Gene Moore. Today I'd like to mention another, Eve Le Dez. As an author, it's always interesting to see how an artist perceives the character you created, and Eve's insights are unique and fascinating.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
A new Matt Brooks short story will be in the December edition of Wilde Oats. A tale set during the terrible flu epidemic of 1918, it's about love and survival. Here's a small excerpt:
"Porca madonna!" Lou exclaimed, exasperated. "I've known mules less stubborn than you, you ... you... Hungarian plowboy! I tell you, you are going back to bed." He was nearly shouting, but Polo's mouth was set on 'intractable'.
"I am not going back to bed, little diva," Polo insisted, biting off each word and chewing the consonants. "Scream all you like. That may help you gather the goats at home, but it won't get me into bed unless you're there with me."
"You dare to speak to me like that?" Lou shouted.
"Ha!" Polo snapped his fingers. "Yes! Just like that!"
Lou leaned across the table until his face nearly touched Polo's. His voice was tight with menace. "Save your sauce for the geese shitting in your stableyard a day's walk from godforsaken Rejetanya or wherever the hell it was. I have things to do and I'm not leaving until you're in bed and you've promised to stay there."
"And I certainly will not promise. You can shout until you croak like a toad. It will get you nowhere."
"Like a toad, is it? And you heehawing like a mule. What did I ever do to deserve a lover like this one," Lou shrieked, reaching for a vase. "Cocciuto!"
"Rospo!" Polo shouted back, grabbing a pillow. He lifted it in front of his face just as Lou flung the porcelain at him.
The vase hit square on the pillow and dropped unharmed to the carpet, splashing water onto Polo's pyjamas and slippers. He looked down, saw the flowers lying in a sodden pile at his feet, and burst out laughing.
(The picture is of the female impersonator Lionel Ames, and comes from this website)
Sunday, October 24, 2010
|The Trojan Horse by Tiepolo|
Monday, October 18, 2010
Here's a quote from the story:
I was busily shoving papers back into my briefcase, listening to comments from members of my own company, and then, suddenly, I saw these eyes.You’ve got to understand, that’s not usually the first thing I notice about a guy. Most often I start my looking below the neck, sometimes below the waist, and sure, I get to the face eventually but, well… this was different. They were nice eyes, a blue so dark they were almost black, kind of startling because his brows and lashes were light, pale blond. That led me to his hair, the same pale blond color, longish and curling over his ears. His mouth was a real cupid’s bow with a funny downturn to the corners that made his smile unique.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
A new issue of our sister e-zine Gay FlashFiction is out, filled with nine short shorts -- flashfictions -- where plot, character and description all have to fit into 1000 words or less.
It's encouraging just how good the stories are, given the constraints imposed by the word limit. Go over there and read them.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
It looks as if we might get the novella Moonrise Over The Nile by Anel Viz for Wilde Oats. It'll be published in several sections over a few issues because of its length, but the first episode will be in the next issue.
Here's a snippet:
Silently, so as not to disturb the sleeping Pharaoh, Apara rose from the couch and snuffed out the single oil lamp that flickered on the low table strewn with the remains of their supper. Darkness flooded the room. Moving cautiously lest he tread on one of the salukis that lay curled up on the floor, he went out onto the balcony to watch the moon rise over the Nile.
The chill night air caressed his naked body as gently as Pharaoh’s lips. Beyond the landing at the foot of the palace, the river stretched left and right like a motionless ribbon of empty space. The night was so dark, Apara could barely distinguish the outlines of the sacred city of Gebtu, one-half mile distant on the east bank.
He waited, gazing back at the cat-eyes of the goddess Bast that glinted unblinking in the inky depths of the heavens. They began to fade as falcon-headed Khonsu climbed from behind the dunes on the further shore, the pale disk of the moon cradled in his crescent headpiece. The sands lightened from dark ochre to glowing cream, the date palms cast faint shadows, the river came alive with the white ripples of lapping waves, and the massive columns of the balcony shimmered with reflected light.
Directly above him, undimmed by Khonsu’s rising, shone three stars in a straight line. Pharaoh had traced them in night sky after their first lovemaking and told him they were the khenen of Min, the god of rain, procreation and the harvest, and guardian of the moon. Then, kissing him, he’d said, “Yours is no less splendid.”
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Victor is an old friend to Wilde Oats. We've published a couple of his stories: Canals of Mars, a touching love story; and Strip Search, a wry reflection on getting old. We've also published a chapter from his novel Deadly Nightshade and in the most recent issue, an interesting and fun interview with him.
We're honoured to have his support. In our efforts to provide our readers with quality romantic and erotic male-to-male fiction, it's good to have stories from writers like him.
Victor Banis' website is here.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Dumb as Rocks by J W Smith, in the current issue, is a story about lifelong best friends. It's touching and heart-warming. You'll like it.
Here's an excerpt:
Tom’s known I’m gay for years. Hell, since we were in high school. It never made any difference to him. He remained my best friend. I never had any difficulty talking to Tooley about anything … well, except how I felt about him.
“Oh, it’s silly. Damn, at thirty-eight you’d think I'd know better.” I commenced to tell him the whole story. Our food came and as we ate I finished the story and ended up feeling sorry for myself all over again because I couldn’t tell him what really had me feeling down.
Tooley spooned up the last bit of the red chili sauce on his plate and pushed it away. He finished off the second beer that he’d had with his meal, set the bottle next to his plate and leaned forward. “Shay?”
I looked up at my old friend. He reached across the table and took my hand. I stared at our hands. “Can I ask you something?”
I looked back up at him and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Why do you keep doing it? I mean I’ve been watching you ever since that damn Lee left you - what? - ten years ago? You keep meeting these guys and you keep trying to form a relationship out of a toss in the sack. Every one of them leaves you high and dry. Why, Shay? Why do you do it?”
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Our theme for this issue is historical, though we'll also consider seasonal stories. We've had some interesting submissions already, but we still need more. Authors out there.... please submit.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
You can read a review of Mr Viz' novel here.
Here is a quote from the review:
"There are four main romantic interests in Gérard’s life and each is drawn in loving detail. There is Julien, the charming and endangered aristocrat, who appears and disappears more than once in the course of the novel. There is Laurent, the Parisian, effeminate in his dealings with Gérard but adventurous and bloodthirsty when it comes to soldiering. There is Akmoud, the exotic Egyptian servant, who makes Gérard’s time in Egypt pleasurable and memorable. There is Anatole, the French prostitute who leaves the streets for Gérard and eventually follows him into the countryside. There are others, but these four are at the heart of the book and we care deeply for the fate of each one. Nothing runs smoothly for anyone, and there is sometimes almost unbearable tension, which can be followed by tears of pity or a sigh of heartfelt relief. Whilst Gérard never denies his attraction to other men, he admits to loving these four and it is one of the strengths of the novel that the reader is brought to love them too."
One of the things we pride ourselves on at Wilde Oats is how tyro writers in our pages go on to fame and fortune. Anel Viz is just one of them. We provide a place for quality gay-shaded fiction, a place where gay/bi fiction can be published and read, whether you're an unknown or the doyen of gay publishing.
Keep reading our zine -- one day you'll be able to say.... I knew him (or her) when....
Tuesday, August 24, 2010