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Category: News

Genre Fusion ~ Rock Fiction, Historical, Romance, Suspense, Thriller, New Adult ~ What Is My Genre?


It’s tough for me to categorize my writing. At first, I would use a throwback term Glitz and Glam. Those stories were about rags-to-riches but for me, the attraction was concentrated on the ritzy, glamorous, Hollywood-type, fast-lane entertainment stories.

In my twenties, I loved to read the Hollywood stories about actors, their struggles to be discovered, and their rocky and sometimes destructive road to fame.

However, I am a true romantic and write a romance story focusing on strong elements of attractions, steamy sex, and love between the characters, with a twist of unusual pitfalls to overcome.

The strong music element in Affairs of the Heart Series also falls under the current term used – Rock Fiction. I would say I am solid in that genre since the story delves into the development of the rock music scene from the 60s to 1990.

My characters have a lot to say so as the story begins to unravel it drops into their secrets and I weave them into the darker sides of their natures. That element comes from my love of Hitchcock and his ability to draw a picture of a regular person lured into an unusual set of events beyond anything they would normally participate in. And that fascination led me down the dark path to Noir and thriller stories.

Because of the location of the isolated Briarwood Estate in England, I could be considered a Gothic writer. I include a ghost, fog, lightning, and thunder, the usual atmospheric setting, which become a character to itself. Add a spooky, old castle I am hooked. Naturally, I would choose to add all these elements, knitting them in some places heavier than others.

What genre do I write? I see the Affairs of the Heart Series beginning as a second chance at love that degenerates into the darker side of sex, drugs, and rock n roll lifestyle bringing additional suspense, twists, and surprises. It would be fair to say I am a multi-genre author, but because of the way publishing requires definitive labels I fall under New Adult, Romance-Suspense though I wouldn’t reject Contemporary Romance, and considering the time period – Historical, or as the series draws to its conclusion a Thriller.

Tell me – what genre do you think I write in – and why?


Rolling Stones 1st Arrival At LAX - 1964

Rolling Stones 1st Arrival At LAX – 1964

Rock Stars & Hollywood
By KEW Townsend
(Copyright 1990/2016)

Chapter Two

Sherri and I took what seem like forever and every bus in Los Angeles until we finally reached out destination – Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). I’d never been there before so going to the airport was exciting and my inauguration to autonomy. Trying to find the correct terminal and gate in the honeycombed airport took most of our precious time. Inexperienced, we had not allowed for bus and airport time to be on time for the Stones flight arrival.  

We were late!

We finally found the correct airline and ran down the long tunnel. Up the stairway, to the gates, which gate? Oh, there it was! We found a small gathering of approximately 10 girls. The crowds tried to climb over each other to see something. The Stones! The Stones!

Somehow, the excitement began to climb from my toes and worked its way up to my chest. I felt constricted and I could barely breathe. I had to see the Stones.

As we cautiously approached the group of girls, we notice that they were all straining to look down a narrow passageway. Some girls had already gone up to where the doors were opening.

The Stones suddenly burst through the doors.

They were … were … Ugh! Ugly!! Short, skinny, pale, white, young men, with long unkempt hair.

Over the past several months, I had cultivated a deep appreciation and loyal bond for the Stones counterparts, The Beatles. The Beatles were presented as squeaky clean, well-mannered and non-sexually threatening in appearance. Their song lyrics spoke to me only of holding hands and of sweet, so sweet kisses. Their entire media blitz image presented solid, honorable, well-intentioned, husband material.

Many years before, I had step-Aunt who hailed from Jolly old England. She was my first and only exposure to an English accent. She too was clean, well- mannered and meticulous in appearance, as the Beatles. Imagine my horror when I came face-to-face with my first English import, The Stones.

They did not estimate the anticipated scrubbed, wholesome appearance and so familiar now by the Beatles. The Stones’ unattractive, exaggerated features were very prominently on the thin, colorless sunken faces. Their undersized bodies were by contrast, emaciated and repulsive. Thoughts of King Bee flashed through my mind, and I could not justify many thoughts of a physical relationship within one of the Stones as they poured out of the gates at the airport terminal.

They ran past me and grabbed others girl hands. Mick Jagger, the lead singer, latched on to the hand of an exotic looking girl with midnight black, shoulder length hair. Slender, she wore the California’s surfer uniform, hip-huggers pants, and a crop top.

Oh My God! Sherri and I never thought of what to wear.

Based on news shots of the Beatles arriving in New York and the massive crowd held back behind gates, we never thought we would get that close!


What about you? Have you ever gone to the airport to meet a band, if so, who where they, where were you, and what happened?



The Stones Are Coming!

Rock Stars & Hollywood
By KEW Townsend
(Copyright 1990/2016)

Chapter One

It was June 2, 1964, when fifteen year old Sherri and I heard on the radio that the next day the Rolling Stones were arriving at the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX).  There wasn’t much press.  We had read about some rumblings of the Stones in the fan magazines.  They were scary looking and billed as the Bad Boys of England.

Headlines read:

“Would You Let Your Sister Marry These Boys?”  Well, I certainly wouldn’t even go out with them.  We sifted through the magazines we bought at the bookstand on the corner of Cahuenga and Hollywood Boulevard in downtown Hollywood.  There we were able to purchase the valuable import magazines from England, so we were able to investigate the Stones.  We didn’t have any import albums except for Meet the Beatles, so we really didn’t know how the Stones sounded.  We devised a scheme.  We had never cut school before, so we plotted and designed our escape.

The first part of our plan was to take the RTD bus to Wallach’s Music City on the corner of Sunset and Vine, in downtown Hollywood.  This was not just any record shop.  Lining the walls inside the store was a row of glass enclosed booths.  Inside them were turntables and a person could select any album, enter the booth and privately preview the tracks before purchasing.

We proceeded to the record file for “R” to find the new Rolling Stones album.  What a cover!  Dark, light pouring down on top of them lined up in a row fading into darkness.  Similar to the album cover of the Beatles.  Copycats!  We took the vinyl into the booth and prepared to meet the Rolling Stones.  While the tracks played, I took the album cover and study the faces.  I decided that the one called Keith was the most intriguing. 

All went well. 

One-by-one the tracks filled the booth, mostly blues covers; “Not Fade Away”, “Route 66”, “I Just Wanna Make Love To You” (a tasty little tune), “Now I’ve Got A Witness”, and “Little By Little”.  But the outstanding track that suggested ‘making honey and buzzing around your hive’-“King Bee”, was outrageous!  Imagine that?  My teen-age fantasies ran wild and soaked up every lyric until … the last cut.  The guitar pierced right though me reaching depths of my adolescent heart in a way I had never felt before, I had to feel it, hear it again … and again.  It was “Tell Me”, a Jagger/Richards original composition.  The voices, the harmonies, the lyrics, the guitars, the powerful and strong pounding drums, the haunting tambourine, the mood, what a love song. 

That did it. 

The Stones had me. 

If they could create that sound and feeling I had to see the Stone.

Until now, Sherri and I had agreed that if we did not like the album we would abort the airport trip.  I immediately purchased the Stones first album – “The Rolling Stones”.  Finally, I had a contender for The Beatles.

“Sherri, we’re going to the airport for sure!”  I declared, “I have to see Keith.”

Who did you hear on the radio that you just had to meet?

Beach Boys

The Beach Boys Re-post from June 3, 2012

Growing up in sunny California, the first wave of music that really influenced me was surf music. Jan and Dean’s “Surf City” was an anthem – though I didn’t like the odds, “two girls for every boy.” And if you are from southern California, you will realize immediately that when you hail from the In-Land Empire, Rubidoux, and Fontana, you are miles a way from the surf and sand. That didn’t stop me, or my fantasies of bon fires and surfer boys scented with Hawaiian Tropics suntan lotion.

Next came the Beach Boys music, beginning with “Surfin’ Safari,” and then the list grew with “Surfer Girl,” “Little Duce Coup,” “409,” “In My Room,” “I Get Around,” and my personal favorite, “Don’t Worry Baby”. I was itching to get my feet on the hot sands. And I would listen to the AM radio and dream of shooting the curl, hanging 10, and being a surfer. But I didn’t have the major prerequisites – long, blonde, surfer hair, a Woodie, or a surfboard. And at 12, was too young to drive to the beach. So, I sat in my room, listened to my 45s, and lamented as the surfing culture passed me by. Of course, there were a few movies to serve my interest in surfing, Gidget with Sandra Dee, and later Annette and Frankie and their surf and sand escapades. Still I dreamed of running my fingers through that surfer boy’s long, blonde streaked, shoulder length hair. From my POV, California had the Beatle’s longhaired haircuts by years. In fact, to me, the early Beatles had short hair compare to the surfers. By the time, I moved to Hollywood, in 1961, junior high still had the surfers bouncing down the halls with their hair in full swing. By the time I attended John Marshall High School, surfers were on their way out. The British Invasion had squashed the dream of sitting on a surfboard and waiting for the next wave.

In 1969, I was living in Beverly Glen, a small enclave that nestles up against Beverly Hills, and one day, I was walking out of the market and a guy began to follow me. I turned; he was very tall, handsome with the usual longer hair. He hurried his gait and caught up with me. After some of the usual questions from first conversations of where you from/live, he asked if he could walk with me awhile and carry my meager purchases. He confessed that when he saw me, he was drawn to follow me like a puppy, something about my posterior, though I’m sure that wasn’t the word he’d used. Flattered of course, I was willing to continue the conversation because in those days we trusted anyone under 30. By the time we had walked the few blocks and up the hill to my house, he’d asked me out. By then I knew his name was Dennis, no last name, but he looked a bit familiar.

That evening he picked me up but we went back to his house along Beverly Glen, had a nice dinner, and made a run to Turner’s Liquor store on the sunset strip. Now I mention this because I wasn’t much of a drinker, but he was. After some loosening up with a few drinks, he began to speak of his history, his family, and what he had done for them. It was becoming clear that though this man wasn’t very old, but judging by his surroundings, and stories, he was doing well for himself and impressed me. I don’t remember much more that night, but that he was a gentleman and drove me home. We had two more dates and it was on the second that I realized my childhood dream had finally come true. I was running my hands through a surfer’s boy’s hair, Dennis Wilson’s, drummer for the Beach Boys. He was none of the bad press I had heard about him. With me, he was charming, respectful, and I’ll always remember that time as very special. Why did I stop seeing him, I guess you could say my conscience got to me since I was living with my boyfriend.

I never had a surfboard, never took one out to chase a wave, or even saw a surfer hang ten, but when I hear early Beach Boys, I’m catapulted back to early 60s when I was around 12. I cut my puberty teeth on them and my love for those songs and memories will never wane.

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