When and why did you begin writing?
I began writing as a creative outlet and a chance to step out of normal life for a bit.
What inspires you to write and why? I want to make people smile and inspire happiness. That’s what inspires me to write. I think there can be a lot of stress in real life, so it’s nice to be able to get away from that and go somewhere happy.
What is the best piece of advice you received before you got published?
Go ahead and submit your book to a publisher. It seems simple, I know, but I never thought I could get published until a couple of people pushed me to try it.
Do you have any rituals to start your writing day?
I don’t have writing days, unfortunately. I have stolen writing moments. Since most of them are late at night after I’m done with all my real life stuff, my “ritual” is to sit in bed or on my sofa with my laptop and type away. I usually save up ideas and bits of dialogue by thinking about my current writing project while I’m at traffic lights or in a particularly boring work meeting.
What are you currently writing?
I just finished writing my first paranormal book. It’s still a romance with the same tone as my other work, but this one has shape shifters and a slightly darker plot. It was a challenging story for me to write because I wanted to weave a bit of a mystery into the love story along with a message. In the end, I’m immensely pleased with it. Hopefully readers (and a publisher) will be as well.
How do you find your names?
Biblical names are definitely a source of inspiration for me, sometimes I troll the internet, and sometimes I hear a name in real life and think, “Oh, that’s a good one!”
What is the most interesting piece of research you’ve done so far?
My books haven’t been particularly research-centric so far. I tend to write about what I know. I do look up things here and there related to a situation or a job or ask friends who have experience in certain areas, but there hasn’t been anything monumental.
Do you include your life experiences in your books?
I do. I try to change the experiences sufficiently that they aren’t recognizable, but my books are inspired by certain events or certain people.
Who is your favourite author and why?
That is way too hard to answer!
What do you do to relax?
I write to relax. Writing is my hobby, my vice, the thing I like to do just for myself.
Where can we find you on the web?
Cardeno C. is a hopeless romantic who wants to add a little happiness and a few "awwws" into a reader's day. Writing is a nice break from real life as a corporate type and volunteer work with gay rights organizations. Cardeno often feels that characters write their own stories and just hopes to find enough time to get those stories on the page. And Cardeno loves to hear from readers so please drop a line to share your thoughts on a story.
BLURB (FROM WHERE HE ENDS AND I BEGIN)
Jake Owens, aggressive, physical, blunt and brave, is a football hero turned city cop. Nate Richardson, his best friend since before forever, is thoughtful, quiet, and kind, a brilliant doctor who has always known who he is and that Jake is the love of his life - and loyal, courageous, straight Jake has never had a clue.
But Jake has been nursing his own case of the unrequiteds, and he's never been as straight as Nate assumes. Nate may think their passionate explosion is a fluke, a result of too much closeness for too long, but Jake is bound and determined to prove to him otherwise. For Jake, the question isn't how they ended up in bed together... it's how can he convince Nate that he wants and needs to stay there.
Where He Ends and I Begin: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2337
EXCERPT of FROM WHERE HE ENDS AND I BEGIN
“Do you remember senior prom, Jake?”
I turned to him.
“You let your date have it because she called you her boyfriend, and then you left her there.”
So that’s what this was about. That’s why he’d relegated me to some fucking one-off with his buddies instead of owning our relationship. I sighed.
“Is that what you remember?”
He looked at me, confused.
“That’s what happened.”
“Come here, Nate.”
I stood up and reached my hand down to help him stand. Then I gently pulled him to my room and sat him on my bed. I walked over to my dresser and picked up a framed picture.
“This is a picture of me with my prom date, Nate.”
It was a picture of the two of us, wearing our tuxedos and smiling, with our arms draped across each other’s shoulders. Nate looked at the picture and smiled, rubbing his thumb over it. Then he seemed confused again as he looked up at me.
“Your prom date? What do you mean?”
“Nate, I asked you to go to prom with me. Tell me you remember.”
No response. Just that same confused look in his eyes. Fuck. I knelt at his feet.
“Okay, I’ll remind you. Prom was coming up and everyone was talking about it. I asked you if you were going to go and you laughed, said you didn’t have a date. I thought, well, you don’t have to be attracted to me to go to prom with me. I mean, it’s just dancing, right? So, I asked you to be my prom date. Do you remember what you said?”
I knew he was remembering, but he was still sitting there, just looking at me. No words were coming out of his mouth. So I kept talking.
“You said you didn’t want to be some sort of gay poster child, going to prom with another guy. I didn’t understand that. But I knew you were uncomfortable, so I told you we’d get a couple of girls to go with us and then we wouldn’t be making a statement. We’d just have fun. Sylvia and Julie didn’t have dates, so I told them they could come with us. I didn’t ask Sylvia to be my date, Nate. And I sure as fuck wasn’t her boyfriend.”
Nate looked down at the picture for a couple of minutes before he finally spoke.
“You were serious? When you asked me to the prom, I mean. You were actually serious?”
I knew he was sensitive and I knew those years growing up in Bryerville were hard on him, that he felt inadequate. But I guess I never fully grasped the depth of the damage, of his insecurity.
“Of course I was serious. You know what, Nate? You never danced with me. I asked you that night but you laughed. I think you still owe me a dance.”
His eyes were misty.
“Yeah. I guess I do.”
So we got up, turned on the radio, and danced slowly in my room. Nate was still wearing his nice jeans and button-down shirt. I was coated with dried muck from the puddles and the rain, wearing nothing but a jock. It didn’t matter. Everything except Nate faded away, just like it always does when we’re in each other’s arms. And we danced.