Wilde Oats non-fiction pieces

Though Wilde Oats was primarily intended as a e-zine where you can read (or submit!) great m2m/gay/slash fiction, we have from the beginning also had opinion pieces, interviews, book and film reviews and news about upcoming books and films.

You can read our non-fiction pieces here.

There's an interesting interview with Dorien Grey, the renowned author of several gay PI serials.

Gay-shaded Artists

We call them 'gay-shaded' rather than  'gay' because they include not just gay and bisexual men but also straight women.

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.

Issue Six is Live!

Members of the Wilde Oats update group, and those who read this blog, get early notice of new issues.

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]

Richard Natale

We're lucky to have an intriguing short story called Ten Pages, Single Spaced by Richard Natale for the December issue of Wilde Oats.  He is a writer, reporter and journalist with The Los Angeles Times, the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, Buzz magazine and Variety. He most recently worked as a junior executive at Paramount Pictures and Columbia Pictures.   His film Green Plaid Shirt has achieved critical acclaim and remains a best-seller.

Look out for his story in the new issue of Wilde Oats, available next week!!

Involuntary King

We'll be including a chapter from Nan Hawthorne's novel Involuntary King in the upcoming issue of Wilde Oats.   Here's an excerpt from the chapter:

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? 

Wilde Oats Artists

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.

Comfort and Joy

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)