No, I was led by my lower anatomy toward writing The Next. Aside from my general literary ignorance, I’d always been a slow reader let alone a slow writer. Truth is, I’d never even known that M slash M defined a genre of fiction at all. I’ve a confession: I didn’t start writing because I was enamored with M/M fiction. The second biggest difference is that I don’t shy away from the eroticism. The most dramatic difference is that the protagonist in The Next isn’t bound to his apartment by a broken leg in a cast, but rather by a self-induced, torturous psychological handcuffing, and the novel, of course, chronicles his journey to this freedom as much as the capturing of the bogey. It’s less a whodunit and more of a suspenseful how’s-he-gonna-get-‘em plot, slathered with a large, creamy dollop of romance. A man who is stuck in his Manhattan apartment gets to looking out his window and thinks he’s identified a gruesome crime across the courtyard. Those who’ve read The Next thus far have dubbed it “the gay Rear Window,” and they’re spot on. Rafe Haze here, rapping on my debut novel, The Next, hitting the public April 23rd.
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