The Italian Word for Kisses

The Italian Word for Kisses

By

Matthew J. Metzger

Length of Book:  80,000 words

Genre:  young adult, gay romance

Author Bio:

Matthew J. Metzger is a British author currently living, working and writing near Bristol in the south-west of England. He is both asexual and transgender, and seeks out the loud characters, rough stories, and quirky personalities that explore the rich diversity of the QUILTBAG world. He writes both adult and young adult novels, covering topics from mental illness to ill-advised crushes, and particularly enjoys writing about universal issues from the QUILTBAG perspective. Matthew can be found on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest and Tsu, or at his website.

When not writing (which is rare), Matthew is usually found crunching numbers at his day job, working out to inappropriately chirpy pop songs, or being owned by his cat. It is important to note that the man does not, naturally, own the cat.

Social Media Links: Facebook and Twitter

Blurb:

It’s no secret that Tav and Luca are going out. After the accident, it’s also no secret that new kid Jack Collins has a raging case of homophobia, and is not best pleased about having given the kiss of life to a gay guy. Either Luca quits swimming, or Jack is going to make him.

Tav favours the tried-and-true method of knocking Jack’s teeth down his neck, only he can’t really afford another school suspension. Luca favours just ignoring him, only ignoring a penknife being held to your throat at New Year’s Eve is downright stupid.

Thing is, Luca suspects that Jack is a victim of something himself. And time is running out for Luca to get through to Jack, before Jack gets rid of him.

Excerpt:

"Alright, Collins."

The bang of the changing room door and the amiable greeting from one of the other boys caught Luca's attention, but the sudden, sharp silence made his blood run cold. All at once, Luca was both afraid, and angry with himself for being afraid. So he squared his shoulders and turned on his heel, folding his arms over his chest and meeting Jack's scowl with a glower of his own.

"What."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jack snarled.

"Fuckin' swimming. What about you?"

"I told you not to come."

It was like the rest of the team didn't exist. Luca didn't dare break eye contact, and Jack ― although he tossed his bag onto a bench and unzipped his jacket, was zeroed in on Luca in a way that made the hairs on Luca's arms stand on end.

"Dunno what kinky shit you're into, Collins, but I don't follow your orders." Being both an older and a younger brother had made Luca able to bluff with ease, and despite the impotent anger, the tart tang of shame around the edges of his brain that this moron had somehow gotten one over him and seized some power in this stupid fucking game, his voice sounded ― even to him ― arrogant and bored.

"Go."

"You what?"

"I said go," Jack repeated. The other boys hovered uncertainly, but Aaron and David had both closed ranks to Luca's shoulders, and Luca took a fortified breath. Aaron looked steely. David looked a little more confused, but determinedly hostile all the same.

"Like hell I'm going," Luca said. "You got a problem with a pouf on the team, you need to fuck off and get your head out your arse. I'm here to swim. I'm not going nowhere."

"What the fuck is going on?" David asked.

"Jack, mate, leave it," one of the other boys said. "It's just Jensen, Jensen's sound―"

"He's a fucking faggot, and I won't have his kind here ― I warned you, I fucking told you, and you're still fucking here!"

"What's your problem, mate, he's taken up wi' that Chris in Jan Krawczyk's tutor group..."

"Yeah, Jack, lay off already, who d'you reckon you are anyway, you're new―"

"I know there's a fucking faggot on this fucking team and I―"

"Don't fucking call him a faggot, twat," one of the other boys ― a lad  called Ryan that Luca had never so much as spoken to outside of the club, and was in the year below them anyway ― sneered, and he shot out a hand to shove at Jack's shoulder.

"I told you to stay away!" Jack bellowed, and his hand vanished into his unzipped jacket. "I told you, I fucking told you―"

The changing room erupted; the flick-knife flashed under the sickly halogen lights, and Luca's back slammed into the wall of locker doors as Aaron and David shoved him back as one. Both doors ― one to the foyer and one to the pool ― banged loudly, and the bolshy kid, Ryan, lashed out with a fist, smashing into Jack's jaw from the side. A couple of men came rampaging over from the showers in their wet trunks, all the noise bouncing off the walls until it was dizzying. Coach arrived with a shrill shriek of the whistle, and the knife had gone somewhere but Luca couldn't tell where in the ruckus, and then Aaron's hand was on his shoulder and he was being steered off into one corner of the changing room, and―

A flush of hot, furious shame boiled up Luca's stomach and into his guts, and he twisted away from Aaron's hands and grabbed for his kit bag. He didn't need Aaron to fucking protect him. He didn't need anyone to protect him, he wasn't some pathetic little kid who needed their hand holding. He shouldn't need defending, he was a Jensen! He should be able to defend himself.

He grabbed his bag and bolted. As he fled up the stairs, a burly security guard and Coach were wrestling the knife out of Jack's hands in the corridor, both shouting at him, and Jack shouting back, face red and voice hoarse and shrill with fury.

"You fucking steer clear of me, Jensen!" he bellowed after Luca, who didn't dare look back. "F'you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of here, you fucking queer!"

Luca reached the top of the stairs, and ran.

Questions for Authors

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

A message, no. A way of life, yeah. This book is very much the product of Sheffield -- I was living there most of the time I was writing it, I lived there for five years and have just moved into West Yorkshire not far away, and the book and these characters are really steeped in that steel city attitude. They have that working-class Yorkshire outlook on their lives, a very rough-and-ready way of relating to each other and forming bonds with people, and a very northern outlook on how to solve problems. All the characters here are Yorkshire lads, and that's really what I wanted to show.

Was there an Author who inspired you to write?

This book was inspired by the setting, as I lived in that same clutch of streets at the time. My writing style over my lifetime has been influenced by other authors, particularly British science fiction authors, but nobody has ever inspired me to write anything specific.

How did you come up with the characters in your books?

They sort of show up, really. Luca came as a character fully formed, and I had to build his family and his friends around him to explain the way he was. I explained the way he looked by his mother being Italian, and I explained his loudmouthed, cheery attitude as being part of a close family but one full of boys so not prone to gentleness or obvious kindness. Things kind of developed from Luca, in this one. Most characters come to me fully-formed in appearance, then I sketch a few scenes out to get their voice, and then I develop a backstory to explain the way they look and speak.

What are your current projects?

My latest release is The Italian Word for Kisses -- it's a gay YA about challenging homophobia. But unlike the usual formula, the would-be victim (Luca) doesn't see himself that way at all, and actually gets a bit violent in response to Jack's homophobia. He's not shy or scared -- mostly -- and his response to a bully is effectively to hit him back. Luca's got four brothers, it's pretty much his default setting to fight over things physically rather than shrink away from the conflict. But after he realises Jack isn't just a mindless thug, Luca wants to approach the problem a different way -- and that's when things get really bad.

Do you see writing as a career?

No, it's a hobby for me. Although lately I've been enjoying my day job far more than being an author, so I don't know, maybe it has become a career. But that's pretty depressing if it has, because I do this because I like it, not because it's a 'job.' If it becomes a job, I think I'd have to quit.

What kind of research do you do for your books?

Mostly research into the setting -- where are local date spots, what's the road they live on, that kind of thing. I lived right around the corner from where Tav and Luca live in this book for five years, so I know that area very well. When I was in the final editing phase, I made a list of things to figure out -- like walking distances, which houses had back alleys, that kind of thing -- and just went out and walked around for a while.

What is the hardest part of writing your book?

For this one, it was that I had to cull a huge character arc for Luca about coming out. The book needed him to be out and proud to everyone, and yet I had this collection of totally beautiful scenes about him being caught kissing his boyfriend by his family, and how they dealt with that as a unit. I'm actually thinking about writing a prequel out of those scenes because there was 25,000 words of it and not to blow my own trumpet or anything, but it was gorgeous.

Do you prefer to write alone or do you like to collaborate with other authors?

Nah, I'm a solo act. I have a very weird and distinctive writing style, almost verbal rather than written, so it would be really difficult to do a collaboration, I think.

Do you ever get writer’s block? If so, how do you get through it?

I usually work on something else! This book got shelved for about five months because another project caught my attention and this was flagging. When I came back to it, with about six chapters to go before it was finished, I absolutely slammed through it. It works! Just doing something a bit different for a while really refreshes the brain.

Do you come up with the cover or does someone else do it?

I have a lot of input with JMS Books about covers, which I love. I basically go and find a picture or a bunch of pictures that I like off stock photo sites, and they try and work them into the cover. And we have very similar tastes, so some of my covers -- including this one -- are almost entirely the picture I found. The cover for this book, I adore. I was using it as a setting inspiration for how wet and grim Sheffield can be but how it never seems to actually dampen anyone's spirits.  I was thrilled when they agreed to use it.

If you could change anything in your writing what would that be?

My habit of missing entire words out when I make a typo, or writing a totally different one. I don't miss apostrophes or tangle up dialogue lines, but the amount of times I've written that 'he put his pocket in his pocket' is outrageous and needs to stop!

What do you do when you finish your book and turn it in to the editor?

Write something else, usually! By the time it's publisher-ready, I've usually started something new, so I mentally go, "Come on, Matt, get [manuscript] off your plate," and do a final clean-through and send it off...then get back to the chapter I was working on!

The Italian Word for Kisses:

It’s no secret Tav and Luca are going out. After the accident, it’s also no secret that new kid Jack Collins has a raging case of homophobia, and is not best pleased about having given the kiss of life to a gay guy. Either Luca quits swimming, or Jack is going to make him.

Tav favours the tried-and-true method of knocking Jack’s teeth down his neck, only he can’t really afford another school suspension. Luca favours just ignoring him, only ignoring a penknife being held to your throat at New Year’s Eve is downright stupid.

Thing is, Luca suspects Jack is a victim of something himself. And time is running out for Luca to get through to Jack, before Jack gets rid of him.

Pick up a copy at JMS Books or All Romance Cafe today.

Excerpt:

"Alright, Collins."

The bang of the changing room door and the amiable greeting from one of the other boys caught Luca's attention, but the sudden, sharp silence made his blood run cold. All at once, Luca was both afraid, and angry with himself for being afraid. So he squared his shoulders and turned on his heel, folding his arms over his chest and meeting Jack's scowl with a glower of his own.

"What."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jack snarled.

"Fuckin' swimming. What about you?"

"I told you not to come."

It was like the rest of the team didn't exist. Luca didn't dare break eye contact, and Jack -- although he tossed his bag onto a bench and unzipped his jacket, was zeroed in on Luca in a way that made the hairs on Luca's arms stand on end.

"Dunno what kinky shit you're into, Collins, but I don't follow your orders." Being both an older and a younger brother had made Luca able to bluff with ease, and despite the impotent anger, the tart tang of shame around the edges of his brain that this moron had somehow gotten one over him and seized some power in this stupid fucking game, his voice sounded -- even to him -- arrogant and bored.

"Go."

"You what?"

"I said go," Jack repeated. The other boys hovered uncertainly, but Aaron and David had both closed ranks to Luca's shoulders, and Luca took a fortified breath. Aaron looked steely. David looked a little more confused, but determinedly hostile all the same.

"Like hell I'm going," Luca said. "You got a problem with a pouf on the team, you need to fuck off and get your head out your arse. I'm here to swim. I'm not going nowhere."

"What the fuck is going on?" David asked.

"Jack, mate, leave it," one of the other boys said. "It's just Jensen, Jensen's sound --"

"He's a fucking faggot, and I won't have his kind here -- I warned you, I fucking told you, and you're still fucking here!"

"What's your problem, mate, he's taken up wi' that Chris in Jan Krawczyk's tutor group ..."

"Yeah, Jack, lay off already, who d'you reckon you are anyway, you're new--"

"I know there's a fucking faggot on this fucking team and I --"

"Don't fucking call him a faggot, twat," one of the other boys -- a lad called Ryan that Luca had never so much as spoken to outside of the club, and was in the year below them anyway -- sneered, and he shot out a hand to shove at Jack's shoulder.

"I told you to stay away!" Jack bellowed, and his hand vanished into his unzipped jacket. "I told you, I fucking told you --"

The changing room erupted; the flick-knife flashed under the sickly halogen lights, and Luca's back slammed into the wall of locker doors as Aaron and David shoved him back as one. Both doors -- one to the foyer and one to the pool -- banged loudly, and the bolshy kid, Ryan, lashed out with a fist, smashing into Jack's jaw from the side. A couple of men came rampaging over from the showers in their wet trunks, all the noise bouncing off the walls until it was dizzying. Coach arrived with a shrill shriek of the whistle, and the knife had gone somewhere but Luca couldn't tell where in the ruckus, and then Aaron's hand was on his shoulder and he was being steered off into one corner of the changing room, and --

A flush of hot, furious shame boiled up Luca's stomach and into his guts, and he twisted away from Aaron's hands and grabbed for his kit bag. He didn't need Aaron to fucking protect him. He didn't need anyone to protect him, he wasn't some pathetic little kid who needed their hand holding. He shouldn't need defending, he was a Jensen! He should be able to defend himself.

He grabbed his bag and bolted. As he fled up the stairs, a burly security guard and Coach were wrestling the knife out of Jack's hands in the corridor, both shouting at him, and Jack shouting back, face red and voice hoarse and shrill with fury.

"You fucking steer clear of me, Jensen!" he bellowed after Luca, who didn't dare look back. "F'you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of here, you fucking queer!"

Luca reached the top of the stairs, and ran.

About the Author:

Matthew J. Metzger is  an asexual, transgender author dragged up in the wet and windy British Isles. He writes both adult and young adult LGBT fiction, with a particular fondness for writing about people and places that don't usually make it into romantic fiction: the council  estates, the mentally ill, the people solving problems with their fists, and finding love on the local Arriva bus route.

When not writing, Matthew is  usually asleep or crunching numbers at his day job. He can be found on Facebook and Twitter, or contacted directly at mattmetzger@hotmail.co.uk.