A Novel About

Friendship? Beauty? Infatuation? Kink? Devotion? Love? Betrayal?

Coming of Age

What does it mean to grow up? To be a woman? To be a man? What are the rites of passage one needs to fulfil to make the transition from child to adulthood? How do you even face yourself when you haven’t? How do you find the courage when you do? Would you even want to? And where does betrayal lie in the self? When you resist, or when you succumb?

Beauty

What is beauty? Are there standards that one must meet by societal standards in order to be beautiful? Can one fall short of those standards and still be beautiful, or is your best hope to become merely interesting? Is beauty always in the eye of the beholder, and if so, what if the beholder is yourself? Can you face the face looking back at you in the mirror, and if not, can you learn to? Or are you just fooling yourself?

Friendship

How is friendship defined? By the simplicity of shared value systems? By a meeting of the minds, or a meeting of the soul? When does the interpersonal bond between two people move beyond friendship into something deeper? And if it does, is it love, or simply infatuation? How would you know the difference? How would you know if, and when to act? Would you even gamble on moving beyond friendship and risk it all?

Love

How do you fall in love? How do you choose between those who tickle your body, and those who excites your mind? What choices are open to you, and how do you make those choices? What would the consequences be? Or is it all mere fantasy and infatuation, and how would you know the difference? Or is it instead all just appealing to primordial fascinations and lust, and grandiose concepts like ‘love’ does not even come into it?

Kink

What is the fascination in domination games? What are the freedoms to be found in physical restraint? Why is indulging in mental control so much easier when imposed by someone else, or is that a mere illusion. Is the world of BDSM all you think it is, or is there a softer, more feminine side to it? Is it about kinky sex, or is it a doorway to self acceptance and deepening of mundane every day experiences? Does any of it matter at the end of the day?

Book Reviews

What People Are Saying - 4.8-star rating on goodreads.com

Newsletter

Yes, yes, I know, another “please subscribe to my newsletter” request. And here is the ubiquitous sales-pitch: if you subscribe, you will get a more-or-less fortnightly newsletter with my musings, blog posts, photography, and special offers such as event invites, cover-reveals, giveaways and... for subscribers only, an unpublished (adults only) short story, ‘Caught in a storm’.

And don’t worry, I hate spam as much as you do, so you won’t get bombarded with continuous sales calls!

Caught in a storm
An adults-only story of a woman who finds herself chained to a tree on a hot Saturday morning.  How did she get there? 
How will she escape? 
Or will she escape at all..?
Subscribe now to find out! 

Marketing Permissions

Please select all the ways you would like to hear from Gerry Pelser

Email
Direct Mail

You can unsubscribe at any time by clicking the link in the footer of our emails. For information about our privacy practices, please visit our website.

We use Mailchimp as our marketing platform. By clicking below to subscribe, you acknowledge that your information will be transferred to Mailchimp for processing. Learn more about Mailchimp's privacy practices here.

Gerry Pelser

The self-indulgent bit about me.
Gerry Pelser

I'm a commercial photographer and writer living in the suburbs of Johannesburg with my wife, Andrea, (AKA Prim, who is always right, and who I adore), two super-cool Hungarian Puli puppies named Laszlo and Laika, and a stuffed petite baby hippo named Felicity. I'm passionate about story-telling, teaching, and absolutely infatuated with photographic lighting.

I spend way too much time on social media, and have an unhealthy obsession with beer, chicken wings, and cricket.

Having previously published a photographic manual, Discovering Leigh is my first work of fiction.  But hopefully not the last.

I discovered my creativity at an early age when I refused to colour inside the lines, and who said the tree trunks needed to be brown, anyway?

When I was seven years old, I used my mum’s IBM golf-ball typewriter to write my first story, for which I got a hiding because I erased her letterhead setting.  I also (badly) illustrated this story, and read it aloud in front of my second-grade class.  I always liked to write and dreamt of one day writing that Great Novel (Preferably before I turned 15, and buying a Ferrari Testarossa with the winnings).

However, I liked drawing more than writing and decided that, despite numerous short stories and big dreams, I would go study arts instead of letters.  At art school, I decided I liked design more than art and followed a career in design, especially the brand new ‘web’ design thing.  After 15 years of speaking to inanimate objects, I discovered I liked photography more than design, and I became a professional photographer.  The Great Novel had still not been written, and dreams of a Testarossa gave way to dreams of making the rent payment.Laszlo, Laika (with ball), Andrea and me.

Laszlo, Laika (with ball), Prim, and me. In the meantime, I had gotten married (under a solar eclipse in the north pole - no, really!) to a beautiful lady named Prim, got myself the two coolest Hungarian Puli Dogs, and life became beautifully suburban with a three-bedroom house with a nice big tree and a nice big lawn and even a nice big solar-heated pool. I give lectures and workshops in photography, got myself the reputation as ‘the master of light’, and in 2015, I published a photography manual, “From Snapshot to Hotshot”, which you can still get on my photographic website if that is your thing.  (www.gerry.co.za/#hotshot)

I should have been happy.

But I wasn’t.  Life doesn’t like middle-aged allegedly responsible adults colouring outside the lines.   In 2017, life and all its trials and tribulations got too much for me.  The ghosts of my past started haunting the present, and I had myself two suicide attempts.  Obviously, these were not successful, and thanks to a loving wife - who colours inside the lines so I would not have to - and a capable shrink, I was bought back from the precipice.  In an attempt to gain back what passed for sanity, the Great Novel was back on the table.  With my mum’s golf-ball IBM typewriter but a memory, and replaced by Microsoft Word, 175,000 words later, my first (publishable) work of fiction was born.

“Discovering Leigh” is a story of friendship, love, self-discovery, and bondage.  Inspired by a lifetime of looking at life differently, it is a beautifully written tale of finding love in an unusual space.  I am proud of this work.  I am not sure if I am happy yet, but I’m getting there, and the only thoughts of suicide I have, are those that want to prevent others from doing it.

In between cooking meals, making my wife tea in bed, doing weekly grocery runs, and playing with my dogs, I am writing my second work of fiction, and still, dream of the Great Novel, and making the rent payment.