Kevin Snell

I don't trust men who fall into bed by accident. In fiction or here in Medellín…especially here in Medellín. Accidents are cheap—a look held too long, a hand that lingers, the narrative equivalent of tripping into intimacy so nobody has to be responsible for wanting it. There is a scene that I wrote for years. It let my characters stay innocent, and it let me stay hidden. Here's the problem—readers can smell drift. When two men just sort of end up tangled together, nothing was risked, and nothing was won. But when one of them sets down the coffee, crosses the room, and says the true thing out loud—that costs. Especially for men who spent decades turning desire into something survivable. Intention is the whole plot. Not the kiss, the decision before the kiss. So write the man who meant it. Then make the bastard mean it.

Thank you everyone! Working on getting my first book up as we speak!

I'm Kevin. I'm usually better at joining a conversation halfway through than starting one. I write books, move around more than is probably reasonable, take too many photographs, and live in Colombia with a golden retriever who's already decided he runs the place. I'm here to meet interesting people, share my writing, read what everyone else is working on, and occasionally say something useful.