So far 2011 has been wonderfully normal.
I've taken a position as a subcontractor with a search engine. I telecommute and it allows me to pay the bills while still having time to write. Win+win=winwin.
The second edition of Full Circle is still in editing. My crazy life over the past two years has caused delays in that title. The editor and I have made some changes that will solidify some of the confusing aspects of the first edition. POV is tighter and it's nicely polished. I was proud of the title before, but there were a few rough sections that bothered me. I still need a lot of growth as a writer, but I've been given a chance to smooth out those rough patches. I can only hope and pray that the reviews for the second edition will be as good as the reviews for the first edition.
Full Circle II: Changeling is in the writing phase. So far this one is darker than the last one, but not as violent and has less gore. Not sure if it will stay that way. Essentially, more mental anguish. Less disembowelment and impaling.
Full Circle III is in the planning and storyboard phase.
Tainted Past is still under contract with Freya's Bower.
Personal Demon (priest erotica) is out. E-book edition. Kindle Edition
About to Sin (priest erotica) is still being edited and hasn't hit submission hell yet. I'm so very proud of this title and I think I'm obsessing a bit too much about every last detail. That obsession is bogging down the progression of the title. At some point, I need to be pragmatic and stamp it done even though no title is ever really done.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Thoughts on Masturbation
I’ve recently gotten into a show called “Being Erica”. I’m playing catch-up via Hulu and I watched an episode the other day that got me thinking. Erica walked in on Ethan while he was masturbating and that was a problem for her. I read through the comments of other viewers and, apparently, many people feel that their partner masturbating is a problem.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand this at all.
Masturbation isn’t just for single people. For someone who is single, it might be a replacement for sex. For someone who is in a relationship, masturbation might be a way of seeking relief when their partner is unavailable or not interested, but masturbation is much more than that.
It’s not just a substitute for sex. It’s a form of self-expression. It’s a sexual outlet that can be fully self-serving. A person can “test run” fantasies or techniques before sharing them with their partner. There’s no performance pressure with masturbation. It’s also a way of reconnecting with one’s own body and one’s on tastes. If I can’t give myself an orgasm, how can I expect anyone else to?
I’m sure that in the whole history of relationships there have been moments where someone rejected their willing partner and masturbated instead of having sex. If that has happened, I suspect there are a lot more problems in that relationship than just masturbation.
Generally speaking, masturbation isn’t connected to rejection. It’s self-exploration. It’s a time to get lost in selfish desires.
I have walked in on partners who were masturbating. I stood there with a smile on my face and watched. It was hot! Very sexy. It gave me the chance to observe my partner and feel like a naughty voyeur. When I was noticed, I asked them to continue and offered to help or just provide an audience. One time it turned into a very hot moment that I will keep private.
Erica was also upset about Ethan watching porn while masturbating. I don’t understand this either.
There’s porn—a fantasy world. It’s ridiculous and campy. It can be raunchy and debauched or it can be soft and almost sweet.
There’s coupled interactions—this is real. It can play out a fantasy, but it is real people interacting in the real world. It can be everything from amazing to a clumsy comedy of errors.
They’re two different worlds and they serve very different needs. I don’t understand why someone would be upset that their partner is watching porn. I can understand if the behavior is unhealthy. If there was some kind of porn addiction or something like that. I can also understand feelings of rejection if someone is treated poorly because they lack a pornstar figure. If that is going on, then the relationship has bigger problems than someone masturbating while watching porn.
Am I unusual in thinking there’s nothing wrong with watching porn and masturbating regardless of one’s relationship status? I see nothing wrong with masturbation. If the relationship is good and if the sex life within the relationship is healthy, why would it be a problem?
It’s my body. I’m going to touch it if I want to.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand this at all.
Masturbation isn’t just for single people. For someone who is single, it might be a replacement for sex. For someone who is in a relationship, masturbation might be a way of seeking relief when their partner is unavailable or not interested, but masturbation is much more than that.
It’s not just a substitute for sex. It’s a form of self-expression. It’s a sexual outlet that can be fully self-serving. A person can “test run” fantasies or techniques before sharing them with their partner. There’s no performance pressure with masturbation. It’s also a way of reconnecting with one’s own body and one’s on tastes. If I can’t give myself an orgasm, how can I expect anyone else to?
I’m sure that in the whole history of relationships there have been moments where someone rejected their willing partner and masturbated instead of having sex. If that has happened, I suspect there are a lot more problems in that relationship than just masturbation.
Generally speaking, masturbation isn’t connected to rejection. It’s self-exploration. It’s a time to get lost in selfish desires.
I have walked in on partners who were masturbating. I stood there with a smile on my face and watched. It was hot! Very sexy. It gave me the chance to observe my partner and feel like a naughty voyeur. When I was noticed, I asked them to continue and offered to help or just provide an audience. One time it turned into a very hot moment that I will keep private.
Erica was also upset about Ethan watching porn while masturbating. I don’t understand this either.
There’s porn—a fantasy world. It’s ridiculous and campy. It can be raunchy and debauched or it can be soft and almost sweet.
There’s coupled interactions—this is real. It can play out a fantasy, but it is real people interacting in the real world. It can be everything from amazing to a clumsy comedy of errors.
They’re two different worlds and they serve very different needs. I don’t understand why someone would be upset that their partner is watching porn. I can understand if the behavior is unhealthy. If there was some kind of porn addiction or something like that. I can also understand feelings of rejection if someone is treated poorly because they lack a pornstar figure. If that is going on, then the relationship has bigger problems than someone masturbating while watching porn.
Am I unusual in thinking there’s nothing wrong with watching porn and masturbating regardless of one’s relationship status? I see nothing wrong with masturbation. If the relationship is good and if the sex life within the relationship is healthy, why would it be a problem?
It’s my body. I’m going to touch it if I want to.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Ahh...submission hell.
Well, I now have another title in submission hell. Let’s keep our fingers crossed as this particular publisher is high on my “do want” list. I have some work with Freya’s Bower (published and in editing), so I’ve decided to go for another publisher on my target list. I’m not sure if this is a good fit or not. I figure a short for an anthology is a good way to test the waters.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A stroll down my writing memory lane
It has been a while since I’ve done a public post. GracieMusica posted a long lost story of hers from the third grade. It’s adorable.
Her post got me thinking. I’ve often told people that my mother has always encouraged me to become an author. I never shared why.
I didn’t start writing until I was 12. At that time I was writing short stories on an old Brother word processor. Basically, a typewriter with a brain. I wrote a short fluffy story about two girls who discover an old trunk in their attic. The trunk teleported them back in time where they met their ancestors. I hadn’t read “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” yet. It was kind of like Back to the Future meets Little House on the Prairie. I submitted that to a contest and didn’t win.
I then wrote a script for a TV show that I loved. I submitted it to the Paramount and got a very polite rejection letter from an assistant explaining that they couldn’t even read the script much less accept it. She wished me the best in my writing endeavors. I still have my first rejection letter. LOL!
I didn’t give up, but for some reason my stories turned a bit darker. I think I’d discovered Poe by this time. This was also the year we got an IBM computer. I did some writing on WordStar 1.0, but still preferred to use the word processor.
I wrote a story about a woman trapped in an insane asylum. She wasn’t crazy, but wanted a break from life. The people who ran the asylum were corrupt and it turned into a story of the woman figuring out a few criminally insane patients had overthrown the staff. All the patients were doctors and all the doctors were patients. She connects with a man who is “less insane” than the others and they escape. After reading that story, my mother sat down with me and told me that I should write. She still talks about a few scenes like she read it yesterday.
After that, I wrote a story that one of my teachers found. This particular teacher and I had never gotten along. I had always gotten along with my teachers even when I struggled in the class. This teacher and I butted heads, I still haven’t figured out why. I don’t know how she got her hands on the story as I never showed it to anyone except my family.
It was written in first person from the perspective of a murderous old man who owned a huge house. He rented out rooms to people and killed them based upon their habits. Whatever habit annoyed him became the means of death. One tenant was fastidiously clean. He’d remove his clothes at night, fold them, place them in a dirty clothes hamper, and then push down on the clothes. After that, he’d put on his night clothes and go to bed. The old man (never named) was really bothered by that. It bugged the crap out of him. He hid a syringe filled with poison inside the clothing so that when the guy pressed down on the clothes, he’d be injected with the poison and die.
The old man never got caught and the story was his final confession of all his crimes. He wrote it on his deathbed. I remember a few lines from it.
So much blood is upon my hands. Coated and covered like a delectable sugary treat. I wash them and it remains. I lick them and I taste it. I’d bathe in it if I could. Such a beautiful shade of red. Glistening and wet.
Sorry, I got distracted. Where was I? Oh yes, the veterinarian.
After my teacher found this, she referred me for psychological testing. She thought I was insane and disturbed. I didn’t write again for a very long time. The school psychologist determined that I was creative not insane. That teacher never accepted that answer. We moved so I could change schools. (My brother wasn’t happy in his school either, but for other reasons.) My mother made sure my permanent record reflected the psychologist’s findings so I wouldn’t be haunted by a reputation. In the seventh grade, I had a new start and I didn’t write.
Lately, I’ve been toying with rewriting “This Old House”. I don’t think I ever will, but I will be incorporating elements of it into “Recovered Flotsam”. Nothing wrong with cannibalizing your own work, right? LOL
Her post got me thinking. I’ve often told people that my mother has always encouraged me to become an author. I never shared why.
I didn’t start writing until I was 12. At that time I was writing short stories on an old Brother word processor. Basically, a typewriter with a brain. I wrote a short fluffy story about two girls who discover an old trunk in their attic. The trunk teleported them back in time where they met their ancestors. I hadn’t read “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” yet. It was kind of like Back to the Future meets Little House on the Prairie. I submitted that to a contest and didn’t win.
I then wrote a script for a TV show that I loved. I submitted it to the Paramount and got a very polite rejection letter from an assistant explaining that they couldn’t even read the script much less accept it. She wished me the best in my writing endeavors. I still have my first rejection letter. LOL!
I didn’t give up, but for some reason my stories turned a bit darker. I think I’d discovered Poe by this time. This was also the year we got an IBM computer. I did some writing on WordStar 1.0, but still preferred to use the word processor.
I wrote a story about a woman trapped in an insane asylum. She wasn’t crazy, but wanted a break from life. The people who ran the asylum were corrupt and it turned into a story of the woman figuring out a few criminally insane patients had overthrown the staff. All the patients were doctors and all the doctors were patients. She connects with a man who is “less insane” than the others and they escape. After reading that story, my mother sat down with me and told me that I should write. She still talks about a few scenes like she read it yesterday.
After that, I wrote a story that one of my teachers found. This particular teacher and I had never gotten along. I had always gotten along with my teachers even when I struggled in the class. This teacher and I butted heads, I still haven’t figured out why. I don’t know how she got her hands on the story as I never showed it to anyone except my family.
It was written in first person from the perspective of a murderous old man who owned a huge house. He rented out rooms to people and killed them based upon their habits. Whatever habit annoyed him became the means of death. One tenant was fastidiously clean. He’d remove his clothes at night, fold them, place them in a dirty clothes hamper, and then push down on the clothes. After that, he’d put on his night clothes and go to bed. The old man (never named) was really bothered by that. It bugged the crap out of him. He hid a syringe filled with poison inside the clothing so that when the guy pressed down on the clothes, he’d be injected with the poison and die.
The old man never got caught and the story was his final confession of all his crimes. He wrote it on his deathbed. I remember a few lines from it.
So much blood is upon my hands. Coated and covered like a delectable sugary treat. I wash them and it remains. I lick them and I taste it. I’d bathe in it if I could. Such a beautiful shade of red. Glistening and wet.
Sorry, I got distracted. Where was I? Oh yes, the veterinarian.
After my teacher found this, she referred me for psychological testing. She thought I was insane and disturbed. I didn’t write again for a very long time. The school psychologist determined that I was creative not insane. That teacher never accepted that answer. We moved so I could change schools. (My brother wasn’t happy in his school either, but for other reasons.) My mother made sure my permanent record reflected the psychologist’s findings so I wouldn’t be haunted by a reputation. In the seventh grade, I had a new start and I didn’t write.
Lately, I’ve been toying with rewriting “This Old House”. I don’t think I ever will, but I will be incorporating elements of it into “Recovered Flotsam”. Nothing wrong with cannibalizing your own work, right? LOL
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Writing Workshop: As
All writers have crutches. Editors help us see those crutches and provide us with tools to stand on our own 100k words. “As” is a common crutch and one that I have. Although I’m not as bad as some, I want to get rid of it. If you’re a writer or an aspiring writer (or a hobbyist or whatever word you use to describe yourself), I recommend you play along at home. To help you find common crutch words, use the find and replace option in your word processor. Find the word “as” (or any other word) and replace it with a highlighted version of the word.
Today, I’m going to take sample sentences and rework them to eliminate the “as”. After the first sample, I’ll be using sentences from Full Circle. I’ll be focusing on pages with more than one “as”.
Special thanks to Marci Baun for being a wonderful editor.
Sample: Stephanie’s mouth fell open as she stared at the size of his hands.
Changed: Stephanie’s mouth fell open. They’re huge. Her hands. Huge. The word huge repeated itself in her head over and over again. Before her eyes, they ballooned. Morphed into a roll of baloney with five fat sausages. What the hell was in her soda?
Original: His eyes grew wide as the crooked cross registered in his mind. Oh shit. Kendrick twisted around him as they lay in the baptismal tub. (Byron POV)
New: His eyes grew wide. The crooked cross registered in his mind. Oh shit. They lay in the baptismal tub and Kendrick twisted around him.
No as, but the short choppy sentences annoy me. It has poor flow and too much power has been given to inconsequential parts.
New: Through infantile wakefulness, the crooked cross registered in his mind. His eyes grew wide—oh shit. They lay together in the baptismal tub and Kendrick twisted around him like a child keeping a toy on lockdown.
That’s OK, but is “infantile” really a Byron word? The use of “lockdown” isn’t appropriate for the setting of the story. I added “like” in what feels like a gratuitous simile. I doubt anyone would call me out on that change, but I’m not happy with it.
New: Through the hazy fog of wakefulness, the crooked cross registered in his mind. His eyes grew wide—oh shit. They lay together in the baptismal tub and Kendrick twisted around him practically locking him in place.
Gonna use this.
Original: Dozens of ravens flocked into the room as Kendrick wept. Hour-long minutes passed, and he felt his body grow colder. His chest went hollow. A lump in his throat blocked his breath. Byron had left him—turned around and walked away as if the centuries upon centuries that they'd shared meant nothing. (Kendrick POV)
New: Kendrick wept. Dozens of ravens flocked into the room. Hour-long minutes passed, and his body grew colder. His chest went hollow. A lump in this throat blocked his breath. Byron had left him—turned around and walked away. The centuries upon centuries they’d shared, had they meant nothing?
I like this except the Yoda sentence at the end. I’ve had a penchant for Yoda sentences since my fanfiction days. The new shorter sentences are balanced with the longer ones. And, I’ve gotten rid of a “he felt” which is, in this case, a gratuitous phrase.
A half a cup of coffee later…I like this sentence. I like the flow. We’ve all been there, right? As it is, we can all relate to it. Maybe it was a doomed relationship, a cancelled project, or trying to save a historical landmark, we’ve all been there. We’ve all, at some point in our lives, had that crucial moment of realization [or moment of initial shock and doubt] that something we were passionate about meant nothing to someone else. There were three showings of as on this page. Maybe I can nix the other one and keep this one.
Original: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back as loneliness took residence inside his chest.
New: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back. Loneliness took residence inside his chest.
That’s good, but it can be stronger.
New: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back. Stark loneliness assaulted his heart.
Mmm...still not quite right.
New: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back. Stark solitude assaulted his heart.
We have a winner! And, I still have only one as on that page.
In this next section we have four incidences of as all on a single page.
Original: Kendrick’s talons gouged the wood as he prayed. (Keep)
Original: Kendrick smiled as best he could.
Original: Seth pulled off his shirt as he walked toward Kendrick.
Original: Seth was tantalizingly warmth as opposed to his corpselike cold.
(All Kendrick POV)
New: Kendrick proffered a, hopefully, believable smile.
New: Seth pulled off his shirt while walking toward Kendrick.
New: Seth removed his shirt and walked toward Kendrick.
New: Seth removed his shirt and approached Kendrick.
New: Seth removed his shirt while approaching Kendrick.
New: Seth’s tantalizing warmth contrasted with his corpselike cold.
New: Seth’s tantalizing warmth battled his corpselike cold. (Stronger, but too aggressive?)
And so on for the rest of the manuscript. This is why editing takes forever; however, it’s the only way to grow as...err...ummm...
This is why editing takes forever, but it’s the best way to hone one’s skills and to promote author growth. Awkward.
Editing can be a long and tedious process, but it’s an invaluable learning experience.
Hmm...yeah, I still have a lot to learn. Hopefully the next manuscript will contain fewer crutches.
Today, I’m going to take sample sentences and rework them to eliminate the “as”. After the first sample, I’ll be using sentences from Full Circle. I’ll be focusing on pages with more than one “as”.
Special thanks to Marci Baun for being a wonderful editor.
Sample: Stephanie’s mouth fell open as she stared at the size of his hands.
Changed: Stephanie’s mouth fell open. They’re huge. Her hands. Huge. The word huge repeated itself in her head over and over again. Before her eyes, they ballooned. Morphed into a roll of baloney with five fat sausages. What the hell was in her soda?
Original: His eyes grew wide as the crooked cross registered in his mind. Oh shit. Kendrick twisted around him as they lay in the baptismal tub. (Byron POV)
New: His eyes grew wide. The crooked cross registered in his mind. Oh shit. They lay in the baptismal tub and Kendrick twisted around him.
No as, but the short choppy sentences annoy me. It has poor flow and too much power has been given to inconsequential parts.
New: Through infantile wakefulness, the crooked cross registered in his mind. His eyes grew wide—oh shit. They lay together in the baptismal tub and Kendrick twisted around him like a child keeping a toy on lockdown.
That’s OK, but is “infantile” really a Byron word? The use of “lockdown” isn’t appropriate for the setting of the story. I added “like” in what feels like a gratuitous simile. I doubt anyone would call me out on that change, but I’m not happy with it.
New: Through the hazy fog of wakefulness, the crooked cross registered in his mind. His eyes grew wide—oh shit. They lay together in the baptismal tub and Kendrick twisted around him practically locking him in place.
Gonna use this.
Original: Dozens of ravens flocked into the room as Kendrick wept. Hour-long minutes passed, and he felt his body grow colder. His chest went hollow. A lump in his throat blocked his breath. Byron had left him—turned around and walked away as if the centuries upon centuries that they'd shared meant nothing. (Kendrick POV)
New: Kendrick wept. Dozens of ravens flocked into the room. Hour-long minutes passed, and his body grew colder. His chest went hollow. A lump in this throat blocked his breath. Byron had left him—turned around and walked away. The centuries upon centuries they’d shared, had they meant nothing?
I like this except the Yoda sentence at the end. I’ve had a penchant for Yoda sentences since my fanfiction days. The new shorter sentences are balanced with the longer ones. And, I’ve gotten rid of a “he felt” which is, in this case, a gratuitous phrase.
A half a cup of coffee later…I like this sentence. I like the flow. We’ve all been there, right? As it is, we can all relate to it. Maybe it was a doomed relationship, a cancelled project, or trying to save a historical landmark, we’ve all been there. We’ve all, at some point in our lives, had that crucial moment of realization [or moment of initial shock and doubt] that something we were passionate about meant nothing to someone else. There were three showings of as on this page. Maybe I can nix the other one and keep this one.
Original: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back as loneliness took residence inside his chest.
New: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back. Loneliness took residence inside his chest.
That’s good, but it can be stronger.
New: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back. Stark loneliness assaulted his heart.
Mmm...still not quite right.
New: Hissing and screeching, he arched his back. Stark solitude assaulted his heart.
We have a winner! And, I still have only one as on that page.
In this next section we have four incidences of as all on a single page.
Original: Kendrick’s talons gouged the wood as he prayed. (Keep)
Original: Kendrick smiled as best he could.
Original: Seth pulled off his shirt as he walked toward Kendrick.
Original: Seth was tantalizingly warmth as opposed to his corpselike cold.
(All Kendrick POV)
New: Kendrick proffered a, hopefully, believable smile.
New: Seth pulled off his shirt while walking toward Kendrick.
New: Seth removed his shirt and walked toward Kendrick.
New: Seth removed his shirt and approached Kendrick.
New: Seth removed his shirt while approaching Kendrick.
New: Seth’s tantalizing warmth contrasted with his corpselike cold.
New: Seth’s tantalizing warmth battled his corpselike cold. (Stronger, but too aggressive?)
And so on for the rest of the manuscript. This is why editing takes forever; however, it’s the only way to grow as...err...ummm...
This is why editing takes forever, but it’s the best way to hone one’s skills and to promote author growth. Awkward.
Editing can be a long and tedious process, but it’s an invaluable learning experience.
Hmm...yeah, I still have a lot to learn. Hopefully the next manuscript will contain fewer crutches.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
New Fetish
Here's a fetish I never saw coming. O.o
Stuck in the sticky
I'll never view a grown man chewing bubble gum with the same eyes again.
Stuck in the sticky
I'll never view a grown man chewing bubble gum with the same eyes again.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Do Something
Warning: this blog post might come across as snobbish or elitist. It might enrage or offend.
Edit: This turned into a lengthy and interesting conversation on my LiveJournal.
When I learn about things like Playing for Change, I’m reminded of what art is supposed to be. Writers aren’t supposed to crank out drivel to make a buck. Visual artists shouldn’t slap just any crap on a canvas. Musicians shouldn’t belt out soulless sounds.
I think that’s why “selling out” hurts so much. Art is a gift to the world. Even if it doesn’t suit someone’s personal tastes, it’s still a present. A little treasure that should move people. It should “strike a chord” inside the audience.
By all means artists should be paid for their work. “Feel goods” and “Warm fuzzies” aren’t accepted as currency at the local grocery store. But, I watch some people work their craft and I wonder if they’re cheating themselves and their audience.
Not all art needs to move people to tears. Not all of it needs to initiate a moment of deep reflection. There’s nothing wrong with producing something for the sole purpose of entertaining. It saddens me and cheapens the art world when people produce work solely for the commercial value.
Grandpa Elliot’s voice sends waves of chills down my arms. I listen to him and there’s so much more there than just a talented voice. There’s some unknown, untouchable, unnamable special quality to him. An endearing charm hitchhikes upon his voice and reaches into my heart. If I could, I’d hug him and thank him for the gift he and Playing for Change has given the world.
Playing for Change also reminds us of the power behind art. (Perhaps the power that serves as the impetus for art?) Artists hold within their talents the ability to bring about change. We can speak for peace or war. We can hold a mirror up to the world and ask the audience, “Is this what you really want? No? Then do something about it.”
Some may say that such things are easy when one is a photojournalist covering a famine or a journalist writing a story about the victims of natural disaster. Some may say that I’m a hypocrite for writing this blog post. After all I’m just an erotica writer.
Erotica writers still wield this power. Can we not address social issues in our work? Can we not show the ugly faces of war and oppression? Can we not reveal the joy of love and the fecundity hope? Can we not do work like Coming Together With Pride and produce work for charity? Entertaining for a purpose.
Furthermore, can we do it without preaching?
We all start with the same tools: words, color, sound. Now, what are we doing with it?
Edit: This turned into a lengthy and interesting conversation on my LiveJournal.
When I learn about things like Playing for Change, I’m reminded of what art is supposed to be. Writers aren’t supposed to crank out drivel to make a buck. Visual artists shouldn’t slap just any crap on a canvas. Musicians shouldn’t belt out soulless sounds.
I think that’s why “selling out” hurts so much. Art is a gift to the world. Even if it doesn’t suit someone’s personal tastes, it’s still a present. A little treasure that should move people. It should “strike a chord” inside the audience.
By all means artists should be paid for their work. “Feel goods” and “Warm fuzzies” aren’t accepted as currency at the local grocery store. But, I watch some people work their craft and I wonder if they’re cheating themselves and their audience.
Not all art needs to move people to tears. Not all of it needs to initiate a moment of deep reflection. There’s nothing wrong with producing something for the sole purpose of entertaining. It saddens me and cheapens the art world when people produce work solely for the commercial value.
Grandpa Elliot’s voice sends waves of chills down my arms. I listen to him and there’s so much more there than just a talented voice. There’s some unknown, untouchable, unnamable special quality to him. An endearing charm hitchhikes upon his voice and reaches into my heart. If I could, I’d hug him and thank him for the gift he and Playing for Change has given the world.
Playing for Change also reminds us of the power behind art. (Perhaps the power that serves as the impetus for art?) Artists hold within their talents the ability to bring about change. We can speak for peace or war. We can hold a mirror up to the world and ask the audience, “Is this what you really want? No? Then do something about it.”
Some may say that such things are easy when one is a photojournalist covering a famine or a journalist writing a story about the victims of natural disaster. Some may say that I’m a hypocrite for writing this blog post. After all I’m just an erotica writer.
Erotica writers still wield this power. Can we not address social issues in our work? Can we not show the ugly faces of war and oppression? Can we not reveal the joy of love and the fecundity hope? Can we not do work like Coming Together With Pride and produce work for charity? Entertaining for a purpose.
Furthermore, can we do it without preaching?
We all start with the same tools: words, color, sound. Now, what are we doing with it?
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Indie Book Awards, Full Circle, Personal Demon
I’m approximately 2,000 words into Full Circle II: Changeling. I’ve often said that writing gets it down and editing makes it pretty, but accepting that as I’m writing is difficult. I find myself staring at sentences and thinking, “Is something really missing or do I just think something is missing; and thus, cause something to be missing?” That’s the kind of logic that sends me to coffee pot or laundry room for a little bit.
I need to remember to just write when I’m writing and edit when I’m editing. There’s a lot of truth in what Oscar Wilde said, “I was working on the proof of one of my poems all morning and took out a comma. In the afternoon, I put it back in again.”
I’m sure my pace will pick up once I’m into the meat of the story. The establishing scenes sometimes feel a bit tedious during the first go through. What do you mean I can’t just jump to this scene and then *poof* magically jump to another scene and expect the reader to follow and understand?
In other news, Personal Demon is on All Romance now with reader reviews of 4 out of 5 on overall enjoyment and 4 out of 5 for sensuality. ^_^
Coming Together: With Pride is a finalist for the 2009 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. Interestingly, not in the erotica category, but in the anthology and e-book fiction categories. Woohoo!
On a personal front, I’m totally addicted to the song “Boom Boom Ba” by Metisse.
I need to remember to just write when I’m writing and edit when I’m editing. There’s a lot of truth in what Oscar Wilde said, “I was working on the proof of one of my poems all morning and took out a comma. In the afternoon, I put it back in again.”
I’m sure my pace will pick up once I’m into the meat of the story. The establishing scenes sometimes feel a bit tedious during the first go through. What do you mean I can’t just jump to this scene and then *poof* magically jump to another scene and expect the reader to follow and understand?
In other news, Personal Demon is on All Romance now with reader reviews of 4 out of 5 on overall enjoyment and 4 out of 5 for sensuality. ^_^
Coming Together: With Pride is a finalist for the 2009 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. Interestingly, not in the erotica category, but in the anthology and e-book fiction categories. Woohoo!
On a personal front, I’m totally addicted to the song “Boom Boom Ba” by Metisse.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Don’t Black or White Me
This post is will not be about the controversy surrounding the last years of his life. This post will not be about his eccentric ways. This post will be about the musical genius Michael Jackson.
Specifically in regards to his Thriller, Bad, and Dangerously albums Michael Jackson, in my opinion, was a master at percussion. The use of percussion and the variety of percussion in his matured sound is phenomenal. It’s a sound that I’ve not yet heard duplicated. In Michael Jackson’s work, percussion wasn’t merely the bass line. He used it to not only set the timing of the piece, but to manipulate the timing and manipulate how the audience followed the timing.
When an artist creates, their work is not their own. I don’t mean in a “collaborative effort” sense, but in a larger sense. When an artist, musician, or writer places their work in the heart and soul of the audience, the work takes on a new life. The audience member now has the responsibility to receive, interpret, and place their own world view upon it.
Michael Jackson’s use of percussion was a direct line to the audience--an unbroken connection between artist and art. A primal heartbeat underlined, permeated, and accented his work.
Not only did he fully understand the power of sound, he understood the equally powerful flipside: silence. His use of silence is another layer of his music that is unparalleled, at least in my perspective. In order for light to be powerful it must relinquish some power to shadow. In order for color to move our hearts it must yield to “void zones”. The weight of words upon our minds is directly related to the “white space” around it. As we drown in the “wall of sound” that has seemed to infect modern music, silence has become even more powerful.
Michael Jackson masterfully created with both sound and silence.
He was also a master of the metaphor. From heavy handed to subtle, he guided us through his political pieces. He presented the facts as he saw them and left it up to us to carry message. And some of us have been carrying the message from “We Are The World” for twenty-four years.
Although I could never be accused of being a Michael Jackson fangirl, I can appreciate his genius. His death is the world’s loss.
Specifically in regards to his Thriller, Bad, and Dangerously albums Michael Jackson, in my opinion, was a master at percussion. The use of percussion and the variety of percussion in his matured sound is phenomenal. It’s a sound that I’ve not yet heard duplicated. In Michael Jackson’s work, percussion wasn’t merely the bass line. He used it to not only set the timing of the piece, but to manipulate the timing and manipulate how the audience followed the timing.
When an artist creates, their work is not their own. I don’t mean in a “collaborative effort” sense, but in a larger sense. When an artist, musician, or writer places their work in the heart and soul of the audience, the work takes on a new life. The audience member now has the responsibility to receive, interpret, and place their own world view upon it.
Michael Jackson’s use of percussion was a direct line to the audience--an unbroken connection between artist and art. A primal heartbeat underlined, permeated, and accented his work.
Not only did he fully understand the power of sound, he understood the equally powerful flipside: silence. His use of silence is another layer of his music that is unparalleled, at least in my perspective. In order for light to be powerful it must relinquish some power to shadow. In order for color to move our hearts it must yield to “void zones”. The weight of words upon our minds is directly related to the “white space” around it. As we drown in the “wall of sound” that has seemed to infect modern music, silence has become even more powerful.
Michael Jackson masterfully created with both sound and silence.
He was also a master of the metaphor. From heavy handed to subtle, he guided us through his political pieces. He presented the facts as he saw them and left it up to us to carry message. And some of us have been carrying the message from “We Are The World” for twenty-four years.
Although I could never be accused of being a Michael Jackson fangirl, I can appreciate his genius. His death is the world’s loss.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Tweets, tweets, and more tweets.
I've caved. I've given into Twitter.
One more thing for me to fail to update, huh? Maybe I can manage 140 characters.
http://twitter.com/cupnjava
One more thing for me to fail to update, huh? Maybe I can manage 140 characters.
http://twitter.com/cupnjava
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Disagreeing with an Editor
Rehtaek11 asked me a question that I think will make an interesting blog post.
Does the company that publishes your work ever make demands that you… change your work in a way that you don't like?
This has happened to me. There has been editorial advice that I initially thought was rooted in the deep end of the Insanity Pool.
The first time this happened to me was with the first edition of Full Circle. I held a great deal of respect for my editor there and told her that I thought she was bonkers for her suggestion, but I’d give it my best shot.
It’s been a while since Full Circle was out for public consumption, but do you guys and gals remember the scene where Byron is speaking to Pebble? Tami planted that seed of creativity. Yes, I created Pebble. Yes, I wrote the scene. But, when she told me that the scene fell flat because of all the inner dialog and reflection coming from Byron and that he needed to talk to someone or do something to make it interesting (“hell, have him talk to the bird”), the creative juices started to flow.
I went back (all the while muttering about how crazy my editor was and telling her so) and crafted Pebble. The friendly neighborhood oh-dear-God-please-let-it-just-be-a-bird-but-we-all-know-Cup-is-up-to-something-creepy Pebble. I then wrote the scenes with Pebble thinking they were going to fail miserably. (Too cryptic? Too obvious? Too batshit insane?) When I finished the scenes, I’d surprised myself. I loved those scenes. I think they really work and add another layer to the novel. And...yes...I told her so. I even let her do the “I told you so dance” and gloat about it.
When I was working on Personal Demon the editor insisted that a condom be used. I didn’t want a condom in the scene and countered. She countered. I was about to counter and realized that I really didn’t want a reputation of being a PITA author and really wanted more contracts with Freya’s Bower (Karen didn’t threaten me or anything), but most importantly, I realized that, Holy crap the lady had a point…kind of...sort of...
I went back and added the condom to the story. I still don’t like the condom being there. Karen saw the implications in the story that support the condom. I didn’t see them and felt that the condom solidifies what I never intended to be there.
So, why didn’t I put my foot down and refuse to allow a condom?
Because with editors you must pick your battles.
The presence of the condom, in my eyes, does change the story, but not to the point where I feel detached from the story. I still feel like it’s my story. I think it adds an element of premeditation that shouldn’t be there. Karen’s point is that the premeditation was always there. I can see that. I can see my point too. Bottom line: fighting over the condom just wasn’t worth it. It’s a short fun story and, generally speaking, I like condoms in erotic fiction.
Let’s go forward again with the editing for the second edition of Full Circle. The editor I’m working with at Freya’s Bower made a suggestion that I thought was a complete deal breaker. She wanted me to eliminate something from the story that I refused to do. Putting my foot down on this particular aspect was worth risking my contract being canceled. It was worth risking not getting another contract with Freya’s Bower. It was worth all feasible consequences. In my rebuttal (two typed pages explaining the importance of the item in question, reviewer feedback about the item in question, and reader feedback of the item in question) and she told me that it was fine. She still doesn’t like it and still wants it changed, but she’s willing to let me have my way with this.
We hadn’t had a dispute before that and we haven’t had one since. I respect her and she knows that. I feel that she respects me. Marci is just awesome like that.
I picked my battle here and I picked it carefully.
In these three cases we resolved the issue in a professional manner, but what happens when the editor and the writer can’t agree?
In some cases the issue is brought to the Executive Managing Editor. Basically, taken up with the editor’s boss and a decision is made and the editor and author are put back to work on the title. Sometimes a writer will be assigned another editor. In extreme cases, the contract is cancelled by the publisher or by the author.
I’m not willing to bother a boss or get accustomed to another editor over a condom. I’m willing to show deference to my editor’s experience in most cases. But every so often there’s something so critical to the story that it’s worth the risk of having to find another publishing house and editor.
Does the company that publishes your work ever make demands that you… change your work in a way that you don't like?
This has happened to me. There has been editorial advice that I initially thought was rooted in the deep end of the Insanity Pool.
The first time this happened to me was with the first edition of Full Circle. I held a great deal of respect for my editor there and told her that I thought she was bonkers for her suggestion, but I’d give it my best shot.
It’s been a while since Full Circle was out for public consumption, but do you guys and gals remember the scene where Byron is speaking to Pebble? Tami planted that seed of creativity. Yes, I created Pebble. Yes, I wrote the scene. But, when she told me that the scene fell flat because of all the inner dialog and reflection coming from Byron and that he needed to talk to someone or do something to make it interesting (“hell, have him talk to the bird”), the creative juices started to flow.
I went back (all the while muttering about how crazy my editor was and telling her so) and crafted Pebble. The friendly neighborhood oh-dear-God-please-let-it-just-be-a-bird-but-we-all-know-Cup-is-up-to-something-creepy Pebble. I then wrote the scenes with Pebble thinking they were going to fail miserably. (Too cryptic? Too obvious? Too batshit insane?) When I finished the scenes, I’d surprised myself. I loved those scenes. I think they really work and add another layer to the novel. And...yes...I told her so. I even let her do the “I told you so dance” and gloat about it.
When I was working on Personal Demon the editor insisted that a condom be used. I didn’t want a condom in the scene and countered. She countered. I was about to counter and realized that I really didn’t want a reputation of being a PITA author and really wanted more contracts with Freya’s Bower (Karen didn’t threaten me or anything), but most importantly, I realized that, Holy crap the lady had a point…kind of...sort of...
I went back and added the condom to the story. I still don’t like the condom being there. Karen saw the implications in the story that support the condom. I didn’t see them and felt that the condom solidifies what I never intended to be there.
So, why didn’t I put my foot down and refuse to allow a condom?
Because with editors you must pick your battles.
The presence of the condom, in my eyes, does change the story, but not to the point where I feel detached from the story. I still feel like it’s my story. I think it adds an element of premeditation that shouldn’t be there. Karen’s point is that the premeditation was always there. I can see that. I can see my point too. Bottom line: fighting over the condom just wasn’t worth it. It’s a short fun story and, generally speaking, I like condoms in erotic fiction.
Let’s go forward again with the editing for the second edition of Full Circle. The editor I’m working with at Freya’s Bower made a suggestion that I thought was a complete deal breaker. She wanted me to eliminate something from the story that I refused to do. Putting my foot down on this particular aspect was worth risking my contract being canceled. It was worth risking not getting another contract with Freya’s Bower. It was worth all feasible consequences. In my rebuttal (two typed pages explaining the importance of the item in question, reviewer feedback about the item in question, and reader feedback of the item in question) and she told me that it was fine. She still doesn’t like it and still wants it changed, but she’s willing to let me have my way with this.
We hadn’t had a dispute before that and we haven’t had one since. I respect her and she knows that. I feel that she respects me. Marci is just awesome like that.
I picked my battle here and I picked it carefully.
In these three cases we resolved the issue in a professional manner, but what happens when the editor and the writer can’t agree?
In some cases the issue is brought to the Executive Managing Editor. Basically, taken up with the editor’s boss and a decision is made and the editor and author are put back to work on the title. Sometimes a writer will be assigned another editor. In extreme cases, the contract is cancelled by the publisher or by the author.
I’m not willing to bother a boss or get accustomed to another editor over a condom. I’m willing to show deference to my editor’s experience in most cases. But every so often there’s something so critical to the story that it’s worth the risk of having to find another publishing house and editor.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Stewart and Cramer
I just finished watching the full Stewart and Cramer interview on www.thedailyshow.com. Normally, I don’t recommend getting news from Jon Stewart. Yes, he’s informative. Yes, he offers a unique perspective on world events. Yes, he’s entertaining. However, he’s a comedian. He’s not news.
But! This interview is exceptional.
If I could, I’d thank Cramer for agreeing to the interview. I gained some respect for the man. I feel like he was honest with Stewart. We cannot change the past. Experts will make mistakes. It’s positively refreshing to watch someone say, “We screwed up.” (NOT a direct quote) It’s even more refreshing to watch a professional say, “It’s legal, but it’s shenanigans and should be stopped. And, furthermore, I once participated in it.” (NOT a direct quote)
Bravo Cramer. Bravo for admitting your mistakes. Bravo for admitting CNBC could have done more. Bravo for listening and not blaming “loser homeowners”. Bravo, Jon Stewart, for being so damn insightful.
What happened to our news when I feel like in-depth reporting comes from a comedian? When did fancy graphics and an interactive map replace good solid reporting? When did the news become bloated with commentary and opinion and bereft of fact and investigation?
Hey, news networks! If I want commentary and opinion, I’ll read a damn blog. If I’m tuning into the news, I want news. Yes, interview people, but don’t assume they’re being honest. If Jon Steward and Stephen Colbert can pull clips from the past showing contradictions, why can’t you? And, for crying out loud, please stop playing the freaking commentary and opinion on the screen while the real news scrolls across the bottom.
Our economy is in shambles. I don’t pretend to understand how we got here, but with three 24-hours news networks and two 24-hour financial news networks, shouldn’t someone be reporting on the dirty backroom deals on Wall Street? Shouldn’t someone shine some light on the shady-but-legal artificial means of manipulating the market? Why does it feel like the people who most believe in a free market economy are the ones who artificially control and manipulate it?
Has Wall Street abandoned ethics? Did Wall Street ever have ethics?
But! This interview is exceptional.
If I could, I’d thank Cramer for agreeing to the interview. I gained some respect for the man. I feel like he was honest with Stewart. We cannot change the past. Experts will make mistakes. It’s positively refreshing to watch someone say, “We screwed up.” (NOT a direct quote) It’s even more refreshing to watch a professional say, “It’s legal, but it’s shenanigans and should be stopped. And, furthermore, I once participated in it.” (NOT a direct quote)
Bravo Cramer. Bravo for admitting your mistakes. Bravo for admitting CNBC could have done more. Bravo for listening and not blaming “loser homeowners”. Bravo, Jon Stewart, for being so damn insightful.
What happened to our news when I feel like in-depth reporting comes from a comedian? When did fancy graphics and an interactive map replace good solid reporting? When did the news become bloated with commentary and opinion and bereft of fact and investigation?
Hey, news networks! If I want commentary and opinion, I’ll read a damn blog. If I’m tuning into the news, I want news. Yes, interview people, but don’t assume they’re being honest. If Jon Steward and Stephen Colbert can pull clips from the past showing contradictions, why can’t you? And, for crying out loud, please stop playing the freaking commentary and opinion on the screen while the real news scrolls across the bottom.
Our economy is in shambles. I don’t pretend to understand how we got here, but with three 24-hours news networks and two 24-hour financial news networks, shouldn’t someone be reporting on the dirty backroom deals on Wall Street? Shouldn’t someone shine some light on the shady-but-legal artificial means of manipulating the market? Why does it feel like the people who most believe in a free market economy are the ones who artificially control and manipulate it?
Has Wall Street abandoned ethics? Did Wall Street ever have ethics?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Crazytrain off-loading at Crazytown
Hi again.
(Insert litany of excuses for not blogging)
With all the authors wigging out, tweaking out, flipping out, and flaking out in obvious and subtle ways, it makes a gal a little nervous to blog. Shit, what if I’m batshit insane too, but I don’t know it? LOL We all have our hidden crazy, right? Maybe we like the Saiyuki collector “action figures” to be a certain freaking way on our bookshelves and we’re a bit miffed because we currently don’t have the room to place them JUST SO. Or maybe we turn into Ultima "Bitch from Hell" when our working time is interrupted for stupid shit. (Are you bleeding? Is someone dying? Is something on fire? No? It’s not an emergency, fuck off.) Or maybe I’m showing a bit too much of my hidden crazy right now. LOL
If we live, work, and play on the internet long enough we will eventually type something that sounded oh-so-good at the time. A few years later and…shit…it’s still there. We hope it gets buried in the bowels of google, but it’s still THERE.
But, sometimes there is a group of people who tend to reveal their crazy a bit too often and too frequently. Authors are one of those groups of people. We start writing and all of sudden we start smoking (anyone seen my lighter…the one shaped like a coffee cup?), then we get way too many cats (the four in this house are fine btw and the crapload outside seem to be fine too.), then we start drinking (OMG Blue, the mandarin vodka was awesome!), then comes absinthe, then drugs, and finally we off ourselves.
Did I REALLY thoroughly think about this career path?
Speaking of career paths, while I was off working and dealing with life, I missed a pretty important announcement. Metaldog/Irondog (anyone know what penname she’s using for her work? I forgot to ask on the phone last night) has TWO contracts with TQ! How awesome is that? Good job, MD! We’re all cheering for you, dear. (Hope you thought about this career path.)
But, I thought I’d check in with everyone and let ya’ll know that I still have the same level of crazy that I’ve always had. So far, I’ve not experienced any alien abductions or revelations from God. My spiritual life is what it has always been: sometimes I go to Mass, sometimes I go to church, sometimes I go to drum circle, and sometimes I look at the wall and think I should be doing something else (playing a lvl 80 holy spec priest does not get one closer to God BTW). The dog next door, Sam, isn’t talking to me. There’s no grape Kool-Aid in the house and no one is getting castrated. Furthermore, I have no intention of walking away from my keyboard or genre. I’m just much, much slower than before due to this nerve problem that will, probably, never go away.
(Insert litany of excuses for not blogging)
With all the authors wigging out, tweaking out, flipping out, and flaking out in obvious and subtle ways, it makes a gal a little nervous to blog. Shit, what if I’m batshit insane too, but I don’t know it? LOL We all have our hidden crazy, right? Maybe we like the Saiyuki collector “action figures” to be a certain freaking way on our bookshelves and we’re a bit miffed because we currently don’t have the room to place them JUST SO. Or maybe we turn into Ultima "Bitch from Hell" when our working time is interrupted for stupid shit. (Are you bleeding? Is someone dying? Is something on fire? No? It’s not an emergency, fuck off.) Or maybe I’m showing a bit too much of my hidden crazy right now. LOL
If we live, work, and play on the internet long enough we will eventually type something that sounded oh-so-good at the time. A few years later and…shit…it’s still there. We hope it gets buried in the bowels of google, but it’s still THERE.
But, sometimes there is a group of people who tend to reveal their crazy a bit too often and too frequently. Authors are one of those groups of people. We start writing and all of sudden we start smoking (anyone seen my lighter…the one shaped like a coffee cup?), then we get way too many cats (the four in this house are fine btw and the crapload outside seem to be fine too.), then we start drinking (OMG Blue, the mandarin vodka was awesome!), then comes absinthe, then drugs, and finally we off ourselves.
Did I REALLY thoroughly think about this career path?
Speaking of career paths, while I was off working and dealing with life, I missed a pretty important announcement. Metaldog/Irondog (anyone know what penname she’s using for her work? I forgot to ask on the phone last night) has TWO contracts with TQ! How awesome is that? Good job, MD! We’re all cheering for you, dear. (Hope you thought about this career path.)
But, I thought I’d check in with everyone and let ya’ll know that I still have the same level of crazy that I’ve always had. So far, I’ve not experienced any alien abductions or revelations from God. My spiritual life is what it has always been: sometimes I go to Mass, sometimes I go to church, sometimes I go to drum circle, and sometimes I look at the wall and think I should be doing something else (playing a lvl 80 holy spec priest does not get one closer to God BTW). The dog next door, Sam, isn’t talking to me. There’s no grape Kool-Aid in the house and no one is getting castrated. Furthermore, I have no intention of walking away from my keyboard or genre. I’m just much, much slower than before due to this nerve problem that will, probably, never go away.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Personal Demon released TODAY!
Freya's Bower has released Personal Demon!
I'm so excited!
Temptation in an alb…
Those of the most devout faith face private struggles. When the man inside the priest fights carnal desires, the priest can only pray he has the inner fortitude to resist. Eve succumbed to the serpent. Adam succumbed to the apple. Now, Father Blake Krey stands in a private Garden of Eden, tempted by his own Personal Demon.
Genre: M/M Contemporary
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Attention fellow priest fetishists!
I have an author’s page at Freya’s Bower! I’ve submitted a bio, but it’s not posted yet.
And what’s this? A RELEASE DATE?!?
Woohoo!
When I woke up this morning, I KNEW it was going to be a great day! I love these types of surprises in my inbox.
Oh, sorry...I should be doing this all professionally and stuff.
*a-hem*
*straightens collar*
*fluffs hair*
Coming November 18th, 2008 from Freya’s Bower: Personal Demon by I.M. Cupnjava
Blurb:
Temptation in an alb…
Those of the most devout faith face private struggles. When the man inside the priest fights carnal desires, the priest can only pray he has the inner fortitude to resist. Eve succumbed to the serpent. Adam succumbed to the apple. Now, Father Blake Krey stands in a private Garden of Eden tempted by his own Personal Demon.
One excerpt is available on the website, but there’s another one I’m posting right here.
Excerpt:
The water rained down and plastered his shaggy blond hair to his face. Lingering hair paste entered his mouth, putting a bitter tinge upon his tongue. He looked up and asked the water to cleanse him. He hoped its purity might find a way into his soul.
He begged.
He pleaded.
He prayed.
He failed.
Succumbing to the lust, he grabbed his cock like a grudge. Unable to face his Lord, he fell forward and braced himself with one hand, genuflecting out of weakness and shame while abusing himself, molesting himself, and living in the filth of lust.
His personal demon slithered about his neck, took hold of him, and jerked him upright. Water splashed against his chest as his fingers curled the rondure of his scrotum. He knew the furtive beast watched him while it waited to strike. The snake offered the apple. Powerless to resist, he snatched it.
His thighs shuddered. His stomach quivered. Pressure spiked inside of him and streaked from his flesh grudge. He thrust himself forward and crashed against the floor as sin and an orgasm devoured him. His seed mingled with the swirling water and flowed into the bottomless darkness of the drain.
The serpent slithered away, leaving shame in its tracks as he, twitching and tingling, lay impuissant on the floor of the shower. He tried to gather his senses, but his mind remained distant. He tried to control his limbs, but his arms and legs defied him.
The water didn’t wash away any of the sin. The perfidy of his actions crushed him against the floor. He lay there until it ran cold and his muscles trembled from chill and the need for repentance. Bearing upon the walls for support, he pulled himself to his feet. Soap and shampoo lent themselves to free his skin of lingering filth.
If he couldn’t be clean, he could at least look clean.
He dried himself while staring at the mirror. Each blink, admonishment. Each swipe of the towel, condemnation. Would he ever be freed of this?
He dressed and found his collar on the floor. As he exited the rectory, he hoped he would find the strength to face his flock.
End excerpt.
Oh yes, it’s like that. It’s one very kinky story with some elements of S&M, candle play, and all sorts of other goodies. If you get the chance to read it, I hope you enjoy it.
And what’s this? A RELEASE DATE?!?
Woohoo!
When I woke up this morning, I KNEW it was going to be a great day! I love these types of surprises in my inbox.
Oh, sorry...I should be doing this all professionally and stuff.
*a-hem*
*straightens collar*
*fluffs hair*
Coming November 18th, 2008 from Freya’s Bower: Personal Demon by I.M. Cupnjava
Blurb:
Temptation in an alb…
Those of the most devout faith face private struggles. When the man inside the priest fights carnal desires, the priest can only pray he has the inner fortitude to resist. Eve succumbed to the serpent. Adam succumbed to the apple. Now, Father Blake Krey stands in a private Garden of Eden tempted by his own Personal Demon.
One excerpt is available on the website, but there’s another one I’m posting right here.
Excerpt:
The water rained down and plastered his shaggy blond hair to his face. Lingering hair paste entered his mouth, putting a bitter tinge upon his tongue. He looked up and asked the water to cleanse him. He hoped its purity might find a way into his soul.
He begged.
He pleaded.
He prayed.
He failed.
Succumbing to the lust, he grabbed his cock like a grudge. Unable to face his Lord, he fell forward and braced himself with one hand, genuflecting out of weakness and shame while abusing himself, molesting himself, and living in the filth of lust.
His personal demon slithered about his neck, took hold of him, and jerked him upright. Water splashed against his chest as his fingers curled the rondure of his scrotum. He knew the furtive beast watched him while it waited to strike. The snake offered the apple. Powerless to resist, he snatched it.
His thighs shuddered. His stomach quivered. Pressure spiked inside of him and streaked from his flesh grudge. He thrust himself forward and crashed against the floor as sin and an orgasm devoured him. His seed mingled with the swirling water and flowed into the bottomless darkness of the drain.
The serpent slithered away, leaving shame in its tracks as he, twitching and tingling, lay impuissant on the floor of the shower. He tried to gather his senses, but his mind remained distant. He tried to control his limbs, but his arms and legs defied him.
The water didn’t wash away any of the sin. The perfidy of his actions crushed him against the floor. He lay there until it ran cold and his muscles trembled from chill and the need for repentance. Bearing upon the walls for support, he pulled himself to his feet. Soap and shampoo lent themselves to free his skin of lingering filth.
If he couldn’t be clean, he could at least look clean.
He dried himself while staring at the mirror. Each blink, admonishment. Each swipe of the towel, condemnation. Would he ever be freed of this?
He dressed and found his collar on the floor. As he exited the rectory, he hoped he would find the strength to face his flock.
End excerpt.
Oh yes, it’s like that. It’s one very kinky story with some elements of S&M, candle play, and all sorts of other goodies. If you get the chance to read it, I hope you enjoy it.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Who let this dust settle?!
*dusts off blogspot*
Man, I’ve been neglecting this thing. First let me apologize for my long leave of absence. This past year has been full of ups and downs.
When Chippewa closed, orphaning my titles, I took that badly. Here, I had my dream. I had the publishing contract in hand. I had an editor who I adored. I had a title released and it was performing very well. I still haven’t seen any royalties from those sales and I probably never will. I weathered a divorce, health issues, and personal problems/drama.
Depression is a lurking opportunistic predator and I will admit that I’ve been fighting with it. Everyday things such as checking my LJ, other author boards, myspace and many others lost their appeal. I started titles and couldn’t get the gumption to continue them. It seemed the harder I reached down inside of myself to self-motivate, the further that motivation slipped from my grasp. The stories still ran through my head, but I couldn’t manage to get my fingers moving. It’s hard to market my work when I don’t have any work to market. I made excuses, grew soft on myself, and fell into that glorious time-sucker World of Warcrack...I mean...Warcraft.
During this lull in my writing career, I took some time to do some personal soul searching. Yes, I conducted some heavy research for About to Sin, but I found myself facing deeper questions about myself. I walked a few labyrinths, mediated, prayed, drummed, danced under the moonlight, and danced with fire. I received the most powerful compliment of my life from an elderly Roman Catholic priest. He said, “Never have I met someone who so tenaciously seeks deeper meaning in all that we do in life.” Then, he told me he loved me and reached up from his wheelchair and hugged me. I read a quote posted inside the library of a convent, “How glorious a gift to know who we are when we aren’t being who others need us to be.” I was told by a young Old Catholic priest, “Your writing is your ministry.”
How very humbling.
Each one of those adjusted my life’s focal point and further reminded me that I am who I am. I’ll never be anything more or anything less than that. I am, deep down inside, an author.
The feel of a keyboard beneath my fingers, the clack of the keys, the banging of my head against a wall trying to understand editorial direction, and the thrill of submission hell are what makes my heart pound and my eyes twinkle.
Puffmonkey came home from a convention where she purchased some very hot posters of Hakkai, Youkai Hakkai, and Gojyo from a gloriously talented artist, Kaysha Siemens. Her Deviant Art page. She’d heard of me and that blew me away.
With the support of my friends and family (albeit stressed support at times), I once again picked love over money.
While fighting the tail end of this depression, Freya’s Bower and Alessia Brio (with Phaze) stepped in and accepted my orphaned titles as well as a new title. That helped a little. It made me feel as if I could once again have my dream and I promptly killed another keyboard.
It felt wonderful to have edits again. The vibe of life that surrounds me when I finish a round of edits is a drug. A very addictive drug. Second only to the almost overwhelming hum of energy and life that comes with finishing the writing phase of a novel. A moment of seemingly perfect clarity that makes me feel as if the world is once again a beautiful place.
Today, I saw the cover for Personal Demon. I read through the ARC (advanced reader copy). It’s a small title…too small for an ISBN. But, it’s something. It’s something that will be out there with my name on it. When I get a release date and the stamp of approval on the blurb and excerpt, I’ll post it. I went by Barnes and Noble and checked on “Coming Together: With Pride” and they’ve sold out of their copies including the ones in the warehouse and are waiting on the publisher/distributor for more. That’s something too.
Also today, I opened my LiveJournal and looked at my f-list. Not everyone on my f-list has read my work, but many of you have. You willingly gave my stories some of your free time. You’ve encouraged me. You’ve cried with me and cheered with me. And remembering all of that has been a most humbling and healing moment.
There’s a light rain today. Fall leaves dot my yard. Rascal is curled up on his pillow by the window, sleeping quite soundly. I am an author...
...and I’m back.
Man, I’ve been neglecting this thing. First let me apologize for my long leave of absence. This past year has been full of ups and downs.
When Chippewa closed, orphaning my titles, I took that badly. Here, I had my dream. I had the publishing contract in hand. I had an editor who I adored. I had a title released and it was performing very well. I still haven’t seen any royalties from those sales and I probably never will. I weathered a divorce, health issues, and personal problems/drama.
Depression is a lurking opportunistic predator and I will admit that I’ve been fighting with it. Everyday things such as checking my LJ, other author boards, myspace and many others lost their appeal. I started titles and couldn’t get the gumption to continue them. It seemed the harder I reached down inside of myself to self-motivate, the further that motivation slipped from my grasp. The stories still ran through my head, but I couldn’t manage to get my fingers moving. It’s hard to market my work when I don’t have any work to market. I made excuses, grew soft on myself, and fell into that glorious time-sucker World of Warcrack...I mean...Warcraft.
During this lull in my writing career, I took some time to do some personal soul searching. Yes, I conducted some heavy research for About to Sin, but I found myself facing deeper questions about myself. I walked a few labyrinths, mediated, prayed, drummed, danced under the moonlight, and danced with fire. I received the most powerful compliment of my life from an elderly Roman Catholic priest. He said, “Never have I met someone who so tenaciously seeks deeper meaning in all that we do in life.” Then, he told me he loved me and reached up from his wheelchair and hugged me. I read a quote posted inside the library of a convent, “How glorious a gift to know who we are when we aren’t being who others need us to be.” I was told by a young Old Catholic priest, “Your writing is your ministry.”
How very humbling.
Each one of those adjusted my life’s focal point and further reminded me that I am who I am. I’ll never be anything more or anything less than that. I am, deep down inside, an author.
The feel of a keyboard beneath my fingers, the clack of the keys, the banging of my head against a wall trying to understand editorial direction, and the thrill of submission hell are what makes my heart pound and my eyes twinkle.
Puffmonkey came home from a convention where she purchased some very hot posters of Hakkai, Youkai Hakkai, and Gojyo from a gloriously talented artist, Kaysha Siemens. Her Deviant Art page. She’d heard of me and that blew me away.
With the support of my friends and family (albeit stressed support at times), I once again picked love over money.
While fighting the tail end of this depression, Freya’s Bower and Alessia Brio (with Phaze) stepped in and accepted my orphaned titles as well as a new title. That helped a little. It made me feel as if I could once again have my dream and I promptly killed another keyboard.
It felt wonderful to have edits again. The vibe of life that surrounds me when I finish a round of edits is a drug. A very addictive drug. Second only to the almost overwhelming hum of energy and life that comes with finishing the writing phase of a novel. A moment of seemingly perfect clarity that makes me feel as if the world is once again a beautiful place.
Today, I saw the cover for Personal Demon. I read through the ARC (advanced reader copy). It’s a small title…too small for an ISBN. But, it’s something. It’s something that will be out there with my name on it. When I get a release date and the stamp of approval on the blurb and excerpt, I’ll post it. I went by Barnes and Noble and checked on “Coming Together: With Pride” and they’ve sold out of their copies including the ones in the warehouse and are waiting on the publisher/distributor for more. That’s something too.
Also today, I opened my LiveJournal and looked at my f-list. Not everyone on my f-list has read my work, but many of you have. You willingly gave my stories some of your free time. You’ve encouraged me. You’ve cried with me and cheered with me. And remembering all of that has been a most humbling and healing moment.
There’s a light rain today. Fall leaves dot my yard. Rascal is curled up on his pillow by the window, sleeping quite soundly. I am an author...
...and I’m back.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Update on writing.
My very talented editor with Freya’s Bower resigned due to health concerns. Please join me in keeping her in your thoughts/prayers/etc. She’s still going to be writing, but editing is terribly difficult and time consuming work. For the sake of her privacy, I will not mention her name.
My titles with FB were put back into the editing pool. Personal Demon has swum to the side of the pool and his being edited by Marci Baun. I’ve not worked with Marci before, but so far things seem to be going very well.
Personal Demon was going to be included in an anthology title, but that was going to be edited by the editor that resigned. Freya’s Bower is doing something interesting with the titles that were going to be in the anthology. They’re doing a series of micro-books. So Personal Demon will be titled Inherently Sexual: Personal Demon. All the titles will have similar covers with the text changed. How neat is that? Oh and did I mention at all of the stories in this story will be homoerotic stories?
Since these will be short, they’ll be cheap and they won’t have ISBNs. That probably means you’ll only be able to get it on the Freya’s Bower’s website. I’ll verify that bit of information as we get closer to release. Since all of these stories aren’t on the shoulders of one editor, we’ll, hopefully, have a quicker release date.
Tainted Past and Full Circle (re-release) are still in the editing pool. About to Sin remains in self-editing phase. Full Circle: Changling is in the conception stage.
Oh, and I have a non-fiction book rec to share. Napoleon’s Privates. 2,500 Years of History Unzipped is an absolute riot and utterly fascinating. If you like quirky non-fiction, you’ll love this book.
My titles with FB were put back into the editing pool. Personal Demon has swum to the side of the pool and his being edited by Marci Baun. I’ve not worked with Marci before, but so far things seem to be going very well.
Personal Demon was going to be included in an anthology title, but that was going to be edited by the editor that resigned. Freya’s Bower is doing something interesting with the titles that were going to be in the anthology. They’re doing a series of micro-books. So Personal Demon will be titled Inherently Sexual: Personal Demon. All the titles will have similar covers with the text changed. How neat is that? Oh and did I mention at all of the stories in this story will be homoerotic stories?
Since these will be short, they’ll be cheap and they won’t have ISBNs. That probably means you’ll only be able to get it on the Freya’s Bower’s website. I’ll verify that bit of information as we get closer to release. Since all of these stories aren’t on the shoulders of one editor, we’ll, hopefully, have a quicker release date.
Tainted Past and Full Circle (re-release) are still in the editing pool. About to Sin remains in self-editing phase. Full Circle: Changling is in the conception stage.
Oh, and I have a non-fiction book rec to share. Napoleon’s Privates. 2,500 Years of History Unzipped is an absolute riot and utterly fascinating. If you like quirky non-fiction, you’ll love this book.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Update about my arm.
First of all, thank you all for the kudos and cheers about Coming Together With Pride. I’m very proud to be a part of that anthology and I hope that those of you who do get to read it will enjoy it.
My myspace and blogspot readers are bit out of the loop on this. I’m on very limited computer use due to what we suspect is a nerve disorder in my right arm. I’ve lost some muscle control, strength and dexterity. My pinky and most of my ring finger are “pins and needles” as well as parts of my hand. That’s why I’ve stopped participating in some of the groups and forums I belong to and why I’ve stopped replying to individual comments. Now that everyone is up to speed, on with the update…
I mentioned I’d update about my arm and the verdict is that we still don’t know. That’s part of the reason I’ve not said anything. I’ve not been able to get to the specialist because Folgers has been unable to get a day off. No joke. Yep, it’s one of THOSE kinds of jobs. (Catch-up moment for Myspace and Blogspot readers: Folgers has offered to cover the treatment costs of my no-insurance-having-self for this which is why I can’t take myself to the specialist. There’s a special place in heaven for altruistic people like that.)
My symptoms are worse. I’m now getting a red streak going up my hand and arm. I work until the streak is about halfway up my forearm or I can’t take the symptoms; and then, I have to take a break. Some days that’s several hours and some days that’s hardly any time at all. My editor is being very patient with me. Warm weather and driving seem to aggravate it more than being at the computer. Riding in a car, for no logical, bothers me more than sitting at my desk, but I’ve changed the set-up of my desk since this started.
Push-ups really bother me, but I’m not letting all the work I’ve put into weight loss go to waste. If I take my walk, I can’t do much for several hours. I’m having extreme difficulty in crossing my ring and pinky fingers and I know I’ve lost a lot of dexterity when it comes to typing. On some days I have no pain. Some days I have a bad ache in my elbow and this odd tingly dull ache in my hand. Ice and heat therapy are not helping. Motrin and Alieve are not helping other than sometimes easing the ache. An elbow brace makes it much worse and I’ve stopped wearing one so that I can get some work done.
Folgers has been in phone contact with the doctor discussing my symptoms and the doc is beginning to lean away from Cubital Tunnel Syndrome, but needs to see me to be sure. I’ve stopped speculating at this point and I’m just adjusting things as I can to get done what I need to get done. I just seem to be getting things done very, very slowly.
My myspace and blogspot readers are bit out of the loop on this. I’m on very limited computer use due to what we suspect is a nerve disorder in my right arm. I’ve lost some muscle control, strength and dexterity. My pinky and most of my ring finger are “pins and needles” as well as parts of my hand. That’s why I’ve stopped participating in some of the groups and forums I belong to and why I’ve stopped replying to individual comments. Now that everyone is up to speed, on with the update…
I mentioned I’d update about my arm and the verdict is that we still don’t know. That’s part of the reason I’ve not said anything. I’ve not been able to get to the specialist because Folgers has been unable to get a day off. No joke. Yep, it’s one of THOSE kinds of jobs. (Catch-up moment for Myspace and Blogspot readers: Folgers has offered to cover the treatment costs of my no-insurance-having-self for this which is why I can’t take myself to the specialist. There’s a special place in heaven for altruistic people like that.)
My symptoms are worse. I’m now getting a red streak going up my hand and arm. I work until the streak is about halfway up my forearm or I can’t take the symptoms; and then, I have to take a break. Some days that’s several hours and some days that’s hardly any time at all. My editor is being very patient with me. Warm weather and driving seem to aggravate it more than being at the computer. Riding in a car, for no logical, bothers me more than sitting at my desk, but I’ve changed the set-up of my desk since this started.
Push-ups really bother me, but I’m not letting all the work I’ve put into weight loss go to waste. If I take my walk, I can’t do much for several hours. I’m having extreme difficulty in crossing my ring and pinky fingers and I know I’ve lost a lot of dexterity when it comes to typing. On some days I have no pain. Some days I have a bad ache in my elbow and this odd tingly dull ache in my hand. Ice and heat therapy are not helping. Motrin and Alieve are not helping other than sometimes easing the ache. An elbow brace makes it much worse and I’ve stopped wearing one so that I can get some work done.
Folgers has been in phone contact with the doctor discussing my symptoms and the doc is beginning to lean away from Cubital Tunnel Syndrome, but needs to see me to be sure. I’ve stopped speculating at this point and I’m just adjusting things as I can to get done what I need to get done. I just seem to be getting things done very, very slowly.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Now Available! Coming Together: With Pride
Now available!
Notice that wasn’t a coming soon?
Drum roll please…
(yep, milking this for all it’s worth)
Coming Together: With Pride is now available in print and e-book formats! This anthology, edited by Alessia Brio and published by Phaze, brings together some of today’s best erotica writers in an altruistic venture to support HIV/AIDS research.
Oh, and did I mention I donated a story for the cause? My story is “Selling Foxx” a snarky contemporary comedy. Enjoy! And, don’t forget your napkins. (That will make sense after you read the story.)
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that’s a print credit for me and a warm-fuzzy feeling that only comes with charitable work.
(P.S. I’ll update about my arm later. For now, let’s celebrate something good!)
P.P.S For those of you reading this on my blogspot or my myspace, I’ve developed some kind of nerve problem in my right arm. It’s messing with my muscle control and dexterity. We don’t know how serious it is and I’m working with doctors to sort it out.
Notice that wasn’t a coming soon?
Drum roll please…
(yep, milking this for all it’s worth)
Coming Together: With Pride is now available in print and e-book formats! This anthology, edited by Alessia Brio and published by Phaze, brings together some of today’s best erotica writers in an altruistic venture to support HIV/AIDS research.
Oh, and did I mention I donated a story for the cause? My story is “Selling Foxx” a snarky contemporary comedy. Enjoy! And, don’t forget your napkins. (That will make sense after you read the story.)
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that’s a print credit for me and a warm-fuzzy feeling that only comes with charitable work.
(P.S. I’ll update about my arm later. For now, let’s celebrate something good!)
P.P.S For those of you reading this on my blogspot or my myspace, I’ve developed some kind of nerve problem in my right arm. It’s messing with my muscle control and dexterity. We don’t know how serious it is and I’m working with doctors to sort it out.
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