The Deviant by Tiana Laveen

 

Love Letter to my Readers

Hello. My name is Tiana Laveen and I have an obsession with sparkly nail designs, gothic-style jewelry and clear accessories, black cats, big dogs, true crime documentaries and miniature urban displays of plastic people strategically placed in tiny artificial towns. I enjoy quality perfumes in beautiful bottles, quaint bookstores where teacakes and flavored waters are served, essential oils, blank journals with stunning covers, canvas bags with witty sayings, and vintage pornographic magazines, preferably from the 1970s. You could easily find me surfing the web for serial killer trivia while sipping a lemonade or purchasing an overpriced, bergamot scented candle with papyrus wood undertones. I am an odd bird with a few traditional values, spiritually inclined wild opinions, and new age ideologies. Best of all? I am my worst critic and love myself dearly, for all that I’ve mentioned to you and more. I am incredibly flawed yet in love with my own truth and cling tight to the beauty of ‘What could be.’ These characteristics and likes of mine are just a few reasons why I write how I write, and refuse to be anything other than myself.

Writing is something I simply must do. It’s wrapped around my bones like skin, swimming in my blood like plasma and sleeping inside my brain like cells, awakening when that muse wishes to have his way and dance. (Yes, mine is male.)

I have written sixty books, the majority which are full length novels.

I have thought about writing when I wasn’t writing, jotting down ideas in the middle of the night or texting myself reminders for stories I am in the midst of writing or wish to write. It’s a continuous cycle. Writing has been my friend, and at times, my foe. It’s an obsession, my second nature, a big part of who I am as a person.

Since I am a classic over-thinker, I rarely get writer’s block. My mind is constantly racing with ideas and that has been a blessing, but I have my share of challenges, too. One in particular is that no matter what line of work we are in, we all must recharge. My motto for years was, “I’ll rest when I’m dead.” I still believe that to an extent, but kicking that addiction is hard.

When I don’t rest, I can feel it. When I don’t write, I hate it. Yet, self-care is key. Laziness is contemptable. I am literally disgusted by habitual slothfulness, but balance is vital. Quality over quantity. Taking two good quality days off versus two weeks of angst, restless nights, and worry is far better, correct? I have endlessly tried to find my perfect writing rhythm and resting bitch face—I mean, resting state—until I finally realized I’m allowed to change it as I see fit. As long as I’m meeting my goals, working with great people and doing my part, the rest will fall into place. Work ethic, self-care, and taking personal inventory of things that need to be changed about oneself for happiness and growth is sometimes a curious thing. It’s a spiritual and emotional chore with rewarding results. But it’s hard as hell. We all struggle, right?

In fact, our hero, King, is someone who struggles with this himself. For one, he’s not verbally expressive; he communicates through his art. You won’t find him crying in a fetal position in his bed, speaking to a therapist, or pouring out his deepest feelings to a close friend. He uses his paintbrush as his tongue, to express his pain deep within, his concerns and nagging regret.

He’s an old soul. He has a certain energy, a special aura about him that draws people to him no matter where he goes. And he hates it. He is simply naturally magnetic, but his disdain of the way some human beings behave, including a few close to him, has left him rightfully and righteously jaded, as well as unwilling to believe that people can be any better than our lowest common denominator. He respects life, but sees it in a bubble. He preserves the beauty of a dream, what he believes to not be real, wishing it were, while our heroine, Suri, bursts the bubble and preserves the screaming, bleeding bits of life with her voice, calmness, and professionalism. She embraces her inner child while keeping her wits about her.

Suri is a 911 operator in NYC and has a completely different perspective on the matter of humans, life and our conduct. King and Suri are drawn together by soul ties, unadulterated passion and lust, mental stimulation and pure physical attraction, but their differences are what hooks their interest and builds the mutual intrigue until they are both in a frenzy trying to climb to the very peak of this connection. This is the modern day love story of a man who creates art with a skilled eye and hand, but is blind to the masterpiece of humankind. It takes a special woman with a unique perspective, humility, and life to enter his world, and show him all the colors of the earth he never knew existed.

Grab a snack, your favorite beverage, sit back and relax, and join me as we watch King and Suri do the damn thing.

Are you ready?

Good.

It’s time to get deviant…