Annette Mori's Blog, page 31
November 30, 2018
And They Lived Happily Ever After…
The topic of happy endings periodically comes up on Facebook posts. There was also a panel on this at LCLC. As I read and respond to some of the posts, a few things strike me as interesting.
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How do readers define Happily Ever After (HEA)?
Does happy for now count?
Does leaving happiness up to the readers’ imagination count?
Does the promise of a sequel with a HEA count?
Does HEA for the particular situation count and what does that mean exactly?
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I suspect, like with everything, it depends on who you ask. There are probably as many different opinions on all of these questions as there are different happy endings. Of course, I’d love to dig deeper into each question.
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I suppose unless a book details an entire lifespan, almost every HEA I read is technically happy for now because the reader doesn’t know what is around the next corner unless it’s a series and you get a glimpse into the future for the two main characters. So for me, happy for now does count. I simply refuse to believe future issues will change the narrative for the couple because I get to decide that as a reader!
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Leaving the ending up to the reader feels too much like being left hanging. So I want y’all to imagine a different circumstance where you’re all hot and bothered and that ultimate release is almost there, then your partner says, “I’m gonna leave that orgasm up to your imagination.” Oh hell no…Thanks, but no thanks. I want resolution. Completion for me is an absolute must or else I am very frustrated. Now that’s just me. To each their own, my grandma used to say and I agree with her.
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HEA with the promise of a sequel…well, I think you know where I’m going to go with that. “Hey babe, can you hang on for oh, let’s say another year?” And that’s if she’s inspired to continue what she started. Yup…no, just no.
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This last one is the most intriguing of all to me. The one situation I can really relate to is the two main characters break up because, well, they aren’t right for each other and staying together wouldn’t make either one of them happy. Okay, I’ll admit that has some logic to it. But. then I would want to be assured that either they found other love, or being solo was the thing that made them most happy. Of course, I have a hard time relating to that particular scenario because I love being in a relationship. I don’t think I would be very happy without my wife. So, I’d need to explore this particular scenario a bit more. I do like unconventional tales. I suppose an unconventional ending shouldn’t mean it isn’t satisfying.
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I guess my point is that for some the traditional HEA is a must. That is certainly the case for me. I will get downright cranky when I don’t get my satisfying ending. Thus, I write what I like to read. A HEA will never be missing from my books. If my ending doesn’t seem believable, I don’t really care. My books are fiction and I get to design a world that leaves readers who share my views on HEA satisfied.
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Want to count on a HEA…you can pick up any one of my books and I guarantee you’ll be satisfied. I’ll bet there’s a lot of readers smoking that cigarette when they turn the last page on my books! You know the drill….click the links below.
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November 23, 2018
Good…Good…Good…Good Vibrations – Revisited
I’ve decided the perfect ending to #BuzzWeek is to resurrect this old blog and share the information once again. I do thank Nancy Anne Healy for starting #BuzzWeek. I am adding my scene from my work in progress called, The Panty Thief for two reasons. First, I stole some of the concepts from this blog to write the scene and two, the very first week I did was #PantyWeek which inspired the WIP in the first place! Thanks to Sophie for the inspiration.
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Psyche…okay this blog is not about the Beach Boys, the topic is a lot more interesting and yet…there is a big WARNING: if you are easily offended by sex talk, don’t continue. After culling through numerous ideas on what to write about this week, one suggestion really peaked (pun intended) my interest. I suppose the idea took root when there was a long string of posts on Facebook that started with poking (again pun intended) fun at a lesbian erotica book that was apparently written by a man. I’d missed the original string and felt left out, so a new flurry of posts ensued that ended with the mention of a vibrator shaped like Santa Claus.
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I couldn’t imagine that was real, so I had to Google it. Sure enough, it does exist. I wondered if the texture of the beard would feel nice and of course, I posted that comment. Someone responded that a Santa Claus vibrator was not appealing at all because…well…let’s face it…would you want an old man up your hoo ha? I suggested one that was shaped like Mrs. Claus. I don’t think that was particularly pleasing either, but I Googled that just in case. Nope, the sexist little sex shop manufacturers don’t have a Mrs. Claus version.
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Anyone who has read my blogs or posts knows that I have a disproportionate need to educate myself and often scurry off to do research (internet or physical). In this instance, I had to Google all the different kinds of vibrators. A worthy cause…I hope you will agree![image error]
I’d already learned about the rabbit from my older sister. Yup, my older sister heralded the virtues of that little toy. Now the rabbit is not a cute fuzzy animal, but a toy designed to stimulate two places at once. A picture is worth a thousand words. The top of the line is apparently the Rabbit Pearl. Hmmm…I wonder how those little rabbit ears feel?
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So, in my research here are the most unusual vibrators I’ve found….no joke. The first is called…I kid you not…the womanizer and it claims to suck and vibrate at the same time.
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Now I love ice cream and for those of you who share that passion, well guess what? There’s a perfect vibrator for you called the ice cream vibrator. This one is on a key-chain. The disclaimer on this little gem is it is more cute and fun than designed to elicit orgasms. If you want a real vibrator and love ice cream, try the IScream vibrator that is shaped like a vanilla ice cream cone with chocolate on top and promises a powerful motor sure to do the trick. Certainly, not for those who have more vanilla tendencies….or is it?
One of my personal favorites is the Dillio inflatable riding vibrator. You can sit on it and ride it at the same time. Ride em cowgirl! Oh, the fun in the pool I could have with this little baby. I wonder what my condo neighbors would say if I dumped this wonderful toy in our community pool?
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If you prefer tongue action, well don’t despair because there is the Sqweel 2 that simulates oral sex and the Robo Lick that combines oral sex with penetration
This type is so popular there is a third option, called the Clit Kisser. This one has a vibrating jelly tongue. Wow, I mean just wow.
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Want to wake up in the morning and have an orgasm? Well…the Wake Up Vibe is a vibrating alarm clock that you wear in your undies. Oh and it comes in pink, how delightful. Damn….I don’t wear underwear to bed.
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Without further ado….here is the last scene to end #BuzzWeek from The Panty Thief, hopefully coming out next year!
“Do you only date women?”
Sabrina nodded. “I know that’s rather square of me, isn’t it? I guess being pansexual is all the rage, but honestly, I’m just not interested in a penis. I’m not even that fond of dildos unless they vibrate or are particularly slim. When I was younger, a friend of mine and I went into this sex shop and you know what?”
Joey chuckled. “No what, I can’t even imagine what you’re going to say. You are very surprising, Sexy Sabrina.”
“There was this vibrator with a vibrating jelly tongue. A tongue! Seriously, I’m not making this shit up. The clerk called it the clit kisser. Well, that was it for me. Sold. Although, I briefly entertained the idea of purchasing the alternative Robolick. That one had multiple pink rotating tongues.”
Joey bent over and started to laugh so hard she desperately gulped air as she tried to respond. “Stop. Stop. You’re killing me here.”
“How about you? I’ll bet you’re one of those really hip gender fluid, anything goes types. It’s a good thing we’ll only be friends. I’ll never be able to keep up with you. You undoubtedly have men and women lining up outside your apartment door offering an inventive study break and stress reliever.”
“You’d be wrong again. One hundred percent lesbian here, but I don’t have any negative views of consenting adults making whatever choices meet their needs or desires. I’m not a gold star lesbian or anything. I had an aha moment a few years back as I looked over my intimate experiences. I came to the definitive conclusion that while I had enjoyed sex with only one man, every single experience with a woman was good. I needed empirical data to come to that determination. Since medical school, I’ve done a fair amount of research to cement my conclusions.”
So…are y’all sufficiently educated about the different options. I sure learned a lot. I’ve been terribly remiss by not including vibrators as an essential part of my intimate scenes, but if you want to read about what I have woven into to those steamy scenes…you know the drill…click on the links below.
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November 22, 2018
Regurgitating Stories…Special Thanksgiving Blog
So…okay, I realize this is kind of a gross title considering this is a special Thanksgiving blog, but I’m going to proceed anyway. Because, you know, that’s what I do sometimes.
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As I advance in age, I realize I am becoming my father. Gasp! They say that people begin to follow in the footsteps of their parents as they age…taking on their personalities and traits. Even though my mother had OCD, for which I have adopted a fair amount of those traits, it is my father I see in myself more and more as the years go by.
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I don’t recall what I have and have not shared about Thanksgiving traditions growing up and later on in life as I emerged and altered those traditions in my own adult life. Therein lies the reason for the title of this blog and my insistence that I am becoming my father.
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My father loves to re-tell stories. At every holiday, or when the family manages to get together for weddings, funerals, etc., he tells the same stories. We’ve heard them a million times (hyperbole, I know). Now, I could look back over my 185 blogs and see if I’ve covered this before, but I won’t. I’m simply going to tell you, again maybe, what my traditions have been.
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Growing up in an Italian family, we always had turkey and lasagna at Thanksgiving. We didn’t ever go around the table and say what we were thankful for, that’s a new tradition I’ve adopted. Mom cooked. We ate until we could eat no more. I preferred lasagna. It was my favorite food. I was not about to waste valuable stomach space on Turkey, so I wouldn’t generally put any turkey on my plate.
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In my twenties and thirties, whenever I couldn’t join my family for Thanksgiving I hosted my own and started a new tradition. I would invite all the orphans as I called them. The orphans were other professionals and friends who couldn’t join their families or loved ones either.
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Finally, in my fifties, I gave up on cooking altogether. Why? Because it’s a big, fat, pain in the rear for two hours of eating pleasure. And, I got sick and darn tired of eating turkey for days. The lasagna I made was usually gone in a day or two and then I was left with turkey. A new tradition emerged. We make reservations at a fine eating establishment and my nephews who live in the Pacific NW join us with their partners (one wife, one girlfriend). There’s no mess to clean up and the food is always amazing. Sure, there isn’t any lasagna and I do miss that, but at least I don’t have to eat turkey for nearly a week. This new tradition comes with the stating what we are thankful for. I combine the traditions of my youth with this new tradition in my story, The Thanksgiving Baby Caper. Here’s a little audio clip for you!
The Thanksgiving Baby Caper Reading
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If any of this is a regurgitated story, sorry. I hope everyone has a safe and healthy Thanksgiving! Interested in buying any of my books…you know the drill. If there is an uptick in sales, I can spout that today as something I’m thankful for!
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November 16, 2018
What the Peck….Lesfic Pecking Order
What’s the deal with the snubbing of paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy, and dystopian in lesfic? They are all at the bottom of the pecking order. I scratch my head all the time when I am reminded of this. The data and marketing have not changed over the four years this became evident to me. Recently, I read a brand new review on my debut novel, and like a few others, the reader was surprised about enjoying the book and would never have picked the book up had she known it was a paranormal book.
I’m reminded of that old commercial for Life cereal. I know I’m really dating myself. To help all you young’uns out, here’s how it went: Two slightly older children shove a bowl of Life cereal in front of Mikey (a toddler) and state, “I’m not going to try it. Let’s give it to Mikey. He won’t eat it. He hates everything.” Mikey proceeds to eat the cereal with gusto and they exclaim, “He likes it.” The link to the YouTube video is below because it is just too cute to miss!
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Life Commercial
When I wrote my first novel, I naively thought it would sell a lot better than it did. Why? How about Buffy the Vampire Slayer-A cult classic for lesbians? Xena, Warrior Princess? The Twilight Series…yes, I know this is more a straight teenager’s wet dream, but I’m not too proud to say I enjoyed the series. Plus, I live in Forks…nuff said. The Vampire Diaries? Hunger with Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon? Wynona Earp? Should I go on? I know there are many others, but I’ve been out of the loop lately.
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Let’s talk about dystopian or fantasy. Does Harry Potter or The Hunger Games ring a bell for anyone? How about The Handmaiden’s tale?
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Whenever there are polls out there asking about these subgenres and about books with characters out of the norm, such as persons of color and people with disabilities, there are always many individuals who pipe up and say they love those kinds of books. I am one of those readers. I gobble up these books and eagerly wait for new ones to arrive. But, apparently, books in these subgenres, except for a few are always the red-headed stepchildren of lesfic. Now, don’t get me started on redheads. Personally, I love them and have made several of my main characters red heads…including one of the main characters in Love Forever, Live Forever…so there!
I hope that someday, lesfic readers will take a page from the Life commercial and watch how other readers, who would never try paranormal before, exclaim how much they love it after inadvertently stumbling over a lesfic novel that doesn’t quite meet the typical romance plotline. The magic, paranormal, fantasy, dystopian, etc angles in all of my books are secondary to the romance, but getting readers to give them a chance has been the ultimate struggle.
When I posted the review, I got some interesting comments and asked Rhavensfyre to weigh in on this topic.
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Rhavensfyre here, chiming in on the topic of the week. Let’s talk about everything not pure romance inside the lesfic genre. I’m talking werewolves, vampires, space operas, fae and fantasy…feel free to add anything I left out.
Now, let’s add a definition…paranormal…para-normal. Above or outside of normal, which I think we all agree we aspire to be. I mean, why be normal, boring? Right?
Synonyms for Paranormal.: metaphysical, otherworldly, preternatural, supernatural, transcendent, transcendental, unearthly.
Pretty broad, right? I mean, even speculative fiction and sci-fi could fall under this umbrella term because we play with the science of possibilities (real, hard science, in my experience, seems to follow the creative flow of writers who imagine something impossible and then becomes possible through science, like planes, submarines, genetic manipulation, space travel, etc.) They all have their paranormal aspects (Dr. Who comes to mind…with ghosts and such, not to mention weeping stone angels that will kill you if you blink). Now, the purists will argue with me and that’s ok. There are those who only want hard sci-fi without a drop of romance, and well, romance without a drop of paranormal. That’s what we are talking about here, this strange bias against paranormal in lesfic romance while embracing it elsewhere. I’m talking about mainstream…TV and books. It is all over the place and we all watch/read it. We love our Harry Potter, our Wynonna Earp, Warehouse 13, Hunger Games, our Van Helsing, even Xena (vampires)…. with all those lovely straight women we automatically ship into fanfic and sexy lesbian translations. Kudos to Wynonna for the WayHaught, and not killing one of them off as is so commonly tropish.
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So, now we come down to the meat and potatoes of this blog. As Rhavensfyre, I have created several interesting novels that fall under paranormal in one way or the other. The Adventures of Two Reluctant Zombie Hunters has a lesbian couple as leads, but it’s not really a romance…it’s just pure zombie apocalypse. It’s witty and sarcastic, mildly gross and a lot of fun.
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The second novel is fantasy. Ladysmith is a modern take on Fae in America…and has the requisite evil Stepmother. It’s hot, it’s sexy…and it has a shape-shifting Fae who turns into a nightmare that can invade people’s darkest dreams. What a badass girlfriend, eh?
The third, and most recent is Healing Springs, an odd novel in that it is a romance with a paranormal undercurrent that makes you wonder if the MC is truly mad or is there really a spirit in the springs helping her along. It also deals with disability and has a PIC as a love interest, all things our readers have asked for. It’s gotten great reviews…and those who have read it, have found inspiration for dealing with their own wounds, both spiritual and physical.
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I’m listing these in this order for a reason.
Zombie series? We have a very small, very loyal group of followers with this series, but it is the most passed over by the general lesbian community, despite our love affair with The Walking Dead, Z-nation, Resident Evil and other associated mainstream shows. Why? Inquiring minds want to know. Why can’t lesbians be in charge of the apocalypse?
LadySmith? Many loved it, but again…that fantasy/paranormal aspect turned off a lot of readers without giving it a chance. I’m not complaining…just trying to understand. Would the novel had done better if we made Alex just a badass blacksmith, and Rohanna the abused step-daughter trying to escape from a murderous step-mother? It’s an interesting idea…scrubbing the Fae out of the Smith. Would we have garnered more readers? This confuses me, as we all love BO from Lost Girl.
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Healing Springs? It’s such an unusual novel…it was hard to decide how to market it. It is truly a romance…so it was labelled as such. Amazon limits where you can put it, so logically, we need to put it where you can find it the easiest, right? However, despite many great reviews…it was noted that the “paranormal” or “ghost story” aspects of the novel were a surprise. The funny thing was, despite the reviewer noting it might turn off some readers…they still enjoyed it. So, would I have that review or reader if it had been marketed as paranormal romance in the first place? Based on some of the reviews, no, they would have passed it by.
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These are the things authors need to consider every day when writing a great story. Love comes in so many ways, and paranormal romance is a way to push romance into realms that could never be reached in the mundane world. I believe, firmly, that we could all use a little magic in the world right now, a little suspension of belief….and enjoy reading about possibilities, about alternative worlds, and realize that love-our kind of love, can exist in every universe, through an apocalypse, and across time.
So, I guess what I’m saying is, give paranormal a chance, you might be delightfully surprised.
KL Rhavensfyre
#1 Best Selling Author of Switching Gears, Rest and Relaxation, Ransom’s Redemption, and Healing Springs
Sometimes stories are more than myth and legend. What has been forgotten cannot be suppressed, and nightmares can come alive in your dreams. Rohanna MacLeod has lived her entire life trying to escape her nightmares, now one has become her closest ally and lover, and just possibly, the only thing that can save her. LadySmith on Amazon
The Misadventures of Two Reluctant Zombie Hunters: Zombies at the Con on Amazon
In closing, I hope that someday, lesfic readers will take a page from the Life commercial and watch how other readers, who would never try paranormal before, exclaim how much they love it after inadvertently stumbling over a lesfic novel that doesn’t quite meet the typical romance plotline. The magic, paranormal, fantasy, dystopian, etc angles in all of my books are secondary to the romance, but getting readers to give them a chance has been the ultimate struggle. There are plenty of links to books from Rhavensfyre and myself…so come on be like Mikey…try them…maybe you’ll like em. Below are some links to my favorite out of the norm lesfic novels!
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Out of This World [image error]
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[image error]My Latest: The Book Addict
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November 9, 2018
Nose to the Grindstone
It occurred to me that I’ve been so busy lately with edits, reviewing manuscripts and signing panties (he he he) that I haven’t had time to write. However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my nose to the tablet. Yup, I just made that saying up because that’s what I do. I mash words together and make up new idioms. It’s not that I haven’t done any new writing, just not a lot. Lately, I ‘ve been writing the semash (mash-up of two different series). Dani will get her happily ever after. I promise.
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Here’s the thing, I’m known for doing research on the origins of idioms, words, or just about anything I’m currently writing about. So, I thought I would give you the origin of, nose to the grindstone, not nose to the tablet! Originally, because I often include these little nuggets in my stories, I thought I had already written about this idiom in my novel, Out of This World. I didn’t. That particular story simply begged for a plethora of idioms. If you’ve read it, you know why.
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Anyway, back to where does the saying, nose to the grindstone, come from. Believe it or not, there are two different explanations. Although, the one I’ve always thought was accurate seems to be the one that most people recognize as the true origin of the phrase.
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The first one refers to the supposed habit of millers who checked that their stones used for grinding cereal weren’t overheating by putting their nose to the stone in order to smell any burning. Skepticism over this explanation hovers around the fact that the stones used for grinding were called millstones, not grindstones. The more widely accepted explanation comes from the practice of knife grinders who needed to bend over their stone or even to lie flat on their fronts, to sharpen their blades in order to hold the knives against the stone. Their noses were quite literally on the grindstone.
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Since I simply cannot let go of the word moist, here’s another tidbit for everyone: The word moist has its origins in the late fourteenth century from an old French word, moiste, meaning damp, wet, or soaked. From the thirteenth century, there are also some Vulgar Latin origins (go figure) from the word muscidus, meaning moldy or wet. Go ahead and ponder that for a spell.
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I find this stuff absolutely fascinating and will often sneak in bits and pieces about the origin of certain sayings or words. Recently, I researched the origin of female magicians. I even included the legend of Merlin and how a woman bested him. If you’d like to learn about the early female magicians, pick up a copy of The Book Addict. I’ve included some truly delightful history.
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Other stories weave in all kinds of useless information. So check my books out!
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November 2, 2018
For the Love of All That is Good & Right…Vote!
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Warning: This is a serious blog. Normally, I only take a serious turn in my blogs when there is something critical to talk about. I can’t think of anything more critical than the outcome to the mid-term elections. I want to make one last ditch effort to get everyone to vote. The stakes could not be higher.
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Scholars far more intelligent than I am have made a comparison between Adolf Hitler and Donald Trump. Here is what I believe and remember about history:
The beginnings of Fascism in Nazi Germany began in 1933, several years before the war officially started and before the US got involved.
When we talk about treating the other side with compassion and understanding, would we have done the same to Adolf Hitler? Yes, Donald Trump and Adolf Hitler are/were both human beings and I don’t believe in violence. I also don’t think it is especially effective to go to the gutter and throw insults at the man. I do, however, believe the mass of voices who want to shut down the dangerous direction must act in the form of voting, peaceful resistance and impacting the pocketbooks of those behind the harmful policies. Boycotting does work!
In 1933 when the Nazi Party seized power, they decommissioned their constitution and all that remained was a piece of paper. Civil rights were abandoned and power was turned over to the Nazi party and Adolf Hitler. Sound familiar? How about the latest controversy where Trump believes he can simply write an executive order to deal with that pesky Fourteenth Amendment. You know, the constitution is so irritating sometimes. At least that is what Trump believes. Why do you think he loves those leaders in countries that give all their power to their dictator? Unbelievable that he wants to take away the rights of those born in the United States if they are the offspring of the undocumented. His base loves this rhetoric. Again, eerily similar to Nazi Germany.
How has Trump risen to power? Fear. He, like Hitler, is a master at riling up the masses. I read an interesting fiction book (Diary of a Nazi Lady by Gillian Freeman) a long time ago told from the perspective of a wife of a Nazi leader. His rise to power and her delight at meeting Hitler was gruesomely fascinating. The narrator talked of her hero worship of Hitler and the utter joy when she met him. The book described a kind of blind devotion to Hitler that is eerily reminiscent of what is happening today in relation to Trump’s base. Fear is a powerful thing. I am not blind to how the left (which I proudly belong to) is also using this tactic as well. I’d like to think this blog does not fall into that category.
Don’t believe for one second Trump is a friend to the LGBTQ community. I’m not going to list all the times he has actively taken a stance to stomp all over our rights. Give him free rein and he will continue. That’s not fear mongering. That is fact.
I’ve talked before about what has happened to me since Trump took office. Do I have hard and fast facts to support my belief that his rise to power played a role in me losing my job? No. But, sometimes the stories we tell turn out to be true. In this case, the disgust on my boss’s husband’s face when I introduced my wife and how she treated me was all the evidence I needed to come to that conclusion. Trump has given the masses reasons to bring their bigotry out in the open and act. Cue up the events of late: pipe bombs, attacks on a synagogue, etc. The list is endless since he took office.
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If the events of the past two years have not rattled you enough, I don’t know what else to say to convince you of how important this vote is. The right is counting on us to sit at home and not vote. I implore you not to let that happen. Get out and vote and do everything in your power to help others get there as well.
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In a book that will come out next year called A Window to Love, I wrote a scene right after I was fired that is as close to what happened as I remembered in my distraught state at the time. I’ll let you be the judge of whether this would fall into the category of one of those side effects of the Trump Presidency…be afraid, be very afraid… because little by little our rights may go away and license will be given to those who hate us to do anything they want in the name of religious freedom. This sneak peek is unedited…..
“Last evening, I had a meeting and ran into Jillian Cochran,” Arlene began.
Mandie rolled the name around in her mouth, but it didn’t taste familiar. “Jillian Cochran?”
Arlene ignored the question. “Jillian expressed concern about my ability to work with her. She informed me the HR Director told her the reason she was not chosen for the position was that the CEO believed she might undermine her if she was hired. Jillian was worried that if I believed she would undermine me, then we wouldn’t work well on the committee. Jillian joined the state committee I currently chair sponsored by the hospital association.” She looked at me and placed her clasped hands on the table. Mandie suspected she was waiting for her to respond.
Mandie was still trying to place Jillian Cochran and her taste buds hadn’t kicked in yet. Her blank stare must have generated a response from the CNO. She assumed when Jillian had noted, the HR Director, she meant Mandie. HR Director wasn’t her title, she was actually the Chief Human Resources Officer. Titles were never that important to her.
“Jillian was our Business Development Director candidate,” Liana added.
Mandie blinked, but things weren’t quite in focus yet.
“I can’t have people in the community thinking that.” Arlene pushed a piece of paper in front of Mandie with an envelope clipped to the top. “We’ve prepared a generous severance package. After all, Washington is an at-will state.”
All the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place and the bitter taste filled Mandie’s mouth. For the past few months, her relationship with the CEO had deteriorated. She was stunned and at the same time, she was not. Arlene didn’t want to believe Mandie. If she supported Mandie, she couldn’t use this as a ruse to move her out of her position on the senior leadership team.
She wondered if the fact she was an out and proud lesbian also added to the strain in their working relationship. In a moment of pure insanity, she had unwisely asked if that was the issue. Arlene had turned red and flatly denied that Mandie being a lesbian had anything to do with their difficult conversations. Mandie remembered when she’d brought her girlfriend, Caroline, to the hospital annual fundraiser. Arlene’s husband failed to hide his disgust. His reaction to Caroline and Mandie was written all over his face as Arlene smiled tightly at Caroline during the introduction. Mandie dreaded her meetings with Arlene.
“I won’t fight this. In some ways, I suppose it’s a relief, but I want you to know, I would never say what she claims I said. I would never throw you under the bus. As I recall this is the same person who was described as having a vitriol communication style. That is why we did not offer her the position. Liana, you were there when we met with her and had a candid conversation about our concerns. You know I would never provide feedback that would compromise Arlene’s reputation in the community.”
“I confirmed with her that it was the HR Director and not the CNO. I’ve already asked Liana about this and she assures me, she did not tell Jillian that was the reason she didn’t get the job.”
“So, you believe Liana. Oh, and a person who in their personnel file the former CEO described as having a vitriol communication style. Yet, you don’t trust that I would never act so unprofessionally. I suppose that says it all and the reason why I won’t fight this,” Mandie answered in defeat.
Mandie was tired. Tired of her job. Tired of her relationship with Arlene. Tired of the undercurrent of discrimination that hovered below the surface. Why would she wish to work for an organization that would treat their leaders in this manner? She’d lost her fight. The better option was to take the severance package and figure out a plan for her future after she didn’t feel so bruised and battered.
“The package is generous,” Arlene defended. “We don’t need to offer this as Washington is an at-will state,” she repeated.
“I’m well aware of that. I’ll sign the paper right now.” Mandie took the pen Liana offered her and scribbled her name.
“I’ll help you remove at least some of your personal belongings and then we can arrange a time….” Liana said softly. Arlene pivoted and scurried from the office. The unpleasant task was done and she could leave Liana to finish.
“Thanks,” Mandie mumbled as she stood and walked into her office. “The databases, projects…” She looked at her desk filled with folders and shook her head. “Never mind, I’ll just grab the pictures of my girlfriend and my bag. I’ll get the rest later.”
Liana grabbed a bag and started to help pull off the pictures from the metal filing cabinet.
“Liana, you know I would never say that.”
“I know. I said it didn’t sound like you. I believe you.”
Mandie wouldn’t let them have the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She grabbed the picture frame of her and her girlfriend that prominently sat on the credenza and tossed it in the bag. “Can we do the rest on Monday? After my staff leave, please.”
“Sure. I’ll meet you here,” Liana answered.
There is a lot going on right now with books and I hope besides voting you leave yourselves some time to read. The Book Addict is still going strong. Captivated made the top 100 Vacation Reads on The Lesbian Review…woo hoo. And, my debut novel, Love Forever, Live Forever is FREE now on Kindle Unlimited. My style comes shining through with a big twist in the middle and snarky dialogue with the main character.
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October 26, 2018
#MoistWeek…A Shower of Wet Fun….
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I hope everyone has had a bit of fun with #MoistWeek. Even I have limits and I just couldn’t extend this week to a full seven days. So…today marks the end of #MoistWeek. But, as promised I’ve combined a few previous challenges into a brand new scene, highlighting the word moist, with another cringe-worthy scene clip I wrote as a result of a challenge. I always thought that someday I might revisit the characters in The Couchie Couch and the close of #MoistWeek has provided the perfect opportunity.
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Before I share this new scene with you, some people have asked why “moist” is such a problem for readers. I haven’t quite received any logical responses. Although, I must admit I don’t use the word very often, especially inside of intimate scenes. I haven’t dug deep enough to really understand why. As someone so aptly pointed out, I grew up with Duncan Hines cake and the commercials boldly pronounced how moist the cake was. When did the word start to make people cringe I wonder?
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Now y’all know me by now…of course, I had to google it. Can you believe there was actually a scientific study about why people are bothered by the word “moist”?
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Here’s the Reader’s Digest version of my in-depth research (he he he):
A whopping 18% of people have a “categorical aversion” to the word. Now I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but it wasn’t simply that they didn’t like the word…they actually had a “categorical aversion” to it! In a different website, the number stated 20% of the population were adverse to the word and found it distasteful. I know….can you believe there was not one, but at least two studies on the word “moist”. Seriously people, don’t we have better ways to spend our science dollars?
“Disgust is adaptive. If we didn’t have an instinct to run away from vomit and diarrhea, disease would spread more easily” – Paul Thibodeau, Psychologist at Ohio’s Oberline College (where the study was done). Apparently, people associate the word “moist” to bodily functions, including sex, and that makes the word uncomfortable to them when used in those contexts.
Sophie did a poll for lesfic readers and it seems as though we have a much greater tolerance for the word because only a combined 17% percent either did not like the word when related to sex or when combined with “panties”. Not one person hated the word or considered it vomit inducing!
New Yorker readers answered the call to a twitter game where the magazine asked readers to propose a single word that should be eliminated from the English language. Yup…you guessed it, the runaway favorite was the word “moist”. Afterward, Jimmy Fallon sarcastically thanked it for being the worst word in the English language.
The word “moist” when used to describe cake is apparently more acceptable. Mmmmmm…..cake. I guess the influence of Duncan Hines blunts the aversion…somewhat!
There is a YouTube video explaining our society’s aversion to the word. Will our obsession never end? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epdXSeYhYx4
Now for the most important factoid that I learned in my search…There is an actual thing called Moist Monday…who knew? Apparently, Moist Monday is when people bring in baked goods to share and of course….they have to be moist! Now, who wouldn’t appreciate that!
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Now for the awesome videos shared by Facebook friends – sincere thanks for getting into the spirit…
Thanks to Kay Meurig-Bowden for supplying this little gem (although I have no idea what plinth is): https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HgGcwbtQTss
Thanks to Kimberly Cooper Griffin for her video from one of my all time favorite shows…Dead Like Me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYH52hRbwJg
Now without further adeau…here is the scene I wrote just for all you followers of my blog!
Hillary’s feet were propped on the mauve sofa with the ribald patterns. The couch had shocked Ginny when she’d come home after hitting the bar before spending her first night in their shared apartment.
Hillary was reading a book on her e-reader when she blurted out, “Oh my God, listen to this.” She paused and waited for Ginny to tear her eyes from her laptop. “Through the cameltoe in Heaven’s panties, Maya could almost see the dewey moist folds in her dripping love cave.” She made a face and continued. ”That is some cringe-worthy descriptors. Ew, dewey moist folds. I despise the word, moist.”
“Seriously, Hillary. Out of that entire passage, moist is the most offensive word to you.” Ginny laughed.
“Yeah, why?”
Ginny shook her head. “Um…how about dripping love cave?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Hillary crinkled her nose in confusion. “Yuk, you are not going to believe what comes next.”
“I’m waiting on pins and needles, do tell,” Ginny replied sarcastically.
Hillary glared at Ginny but proceeded to share the scene. “She hoped Heaven’s juices would run down her inner thighs so that she could taste the honey-dipped petals and lick her tiny pearl beneath the soft moist moss.” Hillary made a barfing sound. “I’m thinking there should be a law against using the word moist, but shit this author did it twice in one paragraph. It’s blasphemy.”
“Again, moist is the most offensive word, really? I’m thinking honey dipped petals is a bit over the top. Don’t you agree?”
“Nope, kinda like that. I can almost taste the sweet honey. It’s good that the writer attempted to engage my other senses.”
“I don’t even know why I’m surprised. We are sitting on a vagina patterned couch. In fact, I think my back is currently rubbing against one of the clits. Maybe if I continue to caress that spot with my back, the couch will become moist with need.” Ginny shot Hillary an evil grin.
“Stop it. That’s not very nice. I thought you loved this couch?”
“No, honey. I love you and you came with the couch. It was a package deal.”
“Well, then you better not say moist ever again. Ick, I hate even speaking that disgusting word. If you continue, you’re not getting any tonight.”
Ginny groaned. “Okay, then what do I say when I’m getting all moi—“
“Don’t even think about going there. I mean it. What’s wrong with wet?”
“Okay, come on and sit on my lap so I can touch those honey dipped petals surrounding your love cave. I’m gonna make you so wet, you’ll have to change your panties.” Hillary waggled her eyebrows.
Hillary laughed and smacked Ginny on the arm. “I don’t particularly like the word panties either.”
“You are a strange one.”
“Yeah, but I’m your strange one.”
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If you’ve been having fun with #moistweek and my blogs, feel free to check out my books, because as Carolyn from lesbireviewed says, my humor comes through in my writing. Who knew I could be funny sometimes?
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Keep scrolling down for information on an exciting new release by Erzabet Bishop!
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Other happenings in Lesfic….Want to have your book featured on my blog – Just Ask!
Because she asked so nice….Here’s a promo from a new author!
[image error]Grab your pre-order copy of this Lesbian Paranormal Fantasy by USA Today Bestselling Author Erzabet Bishop!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2NKsFWV
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2RTTAT4
Universal: https://books2read.com/SF1UF
Sonia is a succubus with one goal: stay off Hell’s radar. But when succubi start to die, including her sometimes lover, Jeannie, she’s drawn into battle between good and evil and a past that isn’t ready to let her go. Fae is a blood witch turned vampire, running a tattoo parlor and trading her craft for blood. She notices that something isn’t right on the streets of her city. The denizens of Hell are restless. With the aid of her nest mate, Perry, and his partner, Charley, she races against time before the next victim falls. The killer has a target in his sights, and Sonia might not live to see the dawn.
**Includes First Christmas: A Sigil Fire Holiday Story**
October 19, 2018
Character Assassination or Hyperbole?
Have you missed me?? It’s been almost a week since the LCLC conference (pronounced as Lick Lick-nuff said) ended and I am still pondering some of the things I learned there. Besides meeting some amazing people (far too many to list), including getting a chance to sit down and talk with Dorothy Allison, there was magic and mayhem in the evenings. It was a total kick in the panties….he he he…pun absolutely intended. The legendary fun was caught on video…so you may wish to check out some of the older vids recording our debauchery.
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One statement that stuck out that I’m still cogitating over, was advice not to write about our experiences. I’m still scratching my head over that one. Sure, writing about day to day tedium and describing that in excruciating detail would not be too interesting to most people. On the other hand, life tosses in some amusing gems now and again…ones that a writer can embellish on to make more interesting. I believe it is those experiences that we draw from that make those stories come to life in a way they might not have without the first hand experience. Does it always work? Heck no. But, the emotion comes through a bit more when we draw from our personal experiences. One of the most emotional and difficult scenes I wrote was in my debut novel, Love Forever, Live Forever. I wrote from the heart and pulled small bits and pieces from the last few months with my mother as she was dying and withering away in front of me. This was a smidgeon of what I remembered from my visit during her last months on earth (clip from that debut novel):
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“God, Nicky, I don’t know if I’m hiding my reactions well at all. My mom caught me looking at her the other day and she started crying and saying, I know I look so ugly right now. Then she kind of joked and said, well, I always wanted to be model thin, but perhaps I’ve taken it a bit too far. I think I choked out something like, Mom, you will always be gorgeous. I lied to my mom, Nicky. You know what she looks like. She is like a holocaust victim and my heart breaks every time I see her.”
“Oh, Lisa, it’s okay. I think this little white lie to your mom will not result in a direct path to hell. I, on the other hand, have secured my place in hell with my evil lesbian ways.”
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Readers sometimes ask where do a writer’s characters come from? I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know I sneak in quite a bit of either myself or those I am closely associated with. People who know me well can pick it out in an instance. I am usually the socially awkward child or adult in my stories, because that was my experience growing up and the residual effects lie in waiting spilling over to my adult self. In my latest book, I pulled from my experience as a child when our family would travel to Baltimore every summer and I would spend hours reading in the hot upstairs kitchen of the townhouse that my grandparents owned. My father was the one who introduced me to the classics, including Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. Other favorites that resonated with me were Dickens and Tolstoy. My mother’s favorites were the romance classics of the time, including all of Pearl S. Buck’s books. I was indiscriminate in my taste and enjoyed them all. That is still true for me, even though as of late I’ve limited that variety to lesfic.
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I want to share the first scene in The Book Addict because it’s pretty dang close to my real life experience growing up. I’m not as talented or interesting as the character, Tanya, but there is a small part of me in that character (assassination or hyperbole – I’ll let you decide.
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Tanya tucked her legs underneath her butt and curled against the wall. It was bright but hotter than hell in the upstairs kitchen where she hid, reading her book. The metal and vinyl combination was uncomfortable, but the rest of the family would leave her alone if she stayed seated. Every once in a while, she would lean against the hard Formica tabletop to shift in her seat, and the bare part of her legs would stick to the vinyl chair.
Tanya couldn’t go into the living room, because her grandmother insisted on keeping the drapes closed. There wasn’t enough light. Besides, it was depressing in the living room.
Sweat trickled down her nose, as she absently pushed up her Coke-bottle glasses. It was just past midday, the hottest part of the day, and if she didn’t know any better she would have thought this was exactly what Hansel and Gretel felt as they baked in the witch’s oven. Not that she was reading those fairytales anymore; she was too old for that.
At the ripe old age of eleven, Tanya was reading, Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka. Her father, an avid reader himself, had given it to her the day before.
She was fascinated with the story. She felt like that cockroach: ignored, insignificant, someone who didn’t matter. This was a tale she could relate to, not the silly romances her mother read, or serious books about drugs or divorce. Her father had introduced her to the classics and that’s what she stuck with, even if her mother thought they were slightly beyond her comprehension.
Tanya never felt like a child. Her mother joked that she popped a middle-aged adult out of her womb.
“Taaannnya,” her mother called from the basement.
The clip clop of Mother’s shoes on the stairs alerted Tanya that her pleasant afternoon of reading was about to be disturbed.
The door leading to the basement opened. “What in the world are you doing in this furnace?” Her mother waved her hand in the air. “Geez it’s hot up here. I’m melting and I’ve been here less than a minute. Come downstairs where it’s cool.”
“I was reading,” Tanya answered.
Her mother narrowed her eyes and took a step closer to Tanya. She flipped over the book. “Oh for Christ’s sake. I’m going to kill your father. Metamorphosis. What the hell was he thinking? As if you’re not odd enough without him exposing you to books like this. Frank,” she yelled.
The heavy footsteps of Tanya’s father ascended the stairs.
“What?” he answered.
His lumbering form reached the doorway. “Hi kiddo. Are you enjoying the book?”
Tanya’s mother glared.
“Yeah, it’s really good, Dad.”
“Are you crazy? Metamorphosis, Frank? Next thing you know you’ll be giving her Tolstoy or Chaucer.”
“Oh, good ideas.” Her mother shook her head. “She’s eleven, Frank, not thirty.”
“Nothing wrong with introducing our daughters to the classics at an early age.”
“She should be out playing with her friends, not hiding away in this oven, reading books meant for adults.”
“I don’t have any friends,” Tanya whispered.
Her mother pushed the unruly brown curls away from Tanya’s forehead. “Oh honey, that’s because you lock yourself away and read all day long. Why don’t you go for a bike ride or something with your sisters when they get back from the pool?”
“Can’t I please finish the book? They won’t want me tagging along anyway.”
“Sure they will.”
“No, they won’t. They both have boyfriends.”
Her mother sighed. “Well at least come downstairs and talk with your grandmother and me. It’s too hot up here.”
Tanya resigned herself to spending time with her parents and grandmother until she could sneak away again and get lost in a new book. The characters came alive for her when she was reading. She often found that if she tried really hard she’d be able to jump into the pages and the adventures within.
I don’t know if it is a good thing or a bad thing to model my characters from people I know and from my own personal life experiences, but I know I’m not likely to stop. My books have enough quirk and oddity without the need to completely eliminate my life experiences. Besides, I suspect it is likely the only thing grounding the books to a tiny bit of reality…something to help people relate. If you want to check out any of my books and get a glimpse into the real Annette Mori, you can certainly find bits and pieces of me within.
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July 20, 2018
Donuts and Holes…Oh My!
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I was watching a lesbian short (Youtube film) last night and started laughing out loud at a line in the movie. One of the main characters brought donuts for breakfast in a park. I am paraphrasing here, but she said something to the effect that who doesn’t like something that has a hole in it. Well…that got my demented mind thinking. I wondered if this favorite breakfast food was invented by a lesbian. Or…maybe this the preferred food choice for lesbians.
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Now I know y’all are thinking, but men have holes too. I’m not diminishing the importance of someone’s butthole. How else would you rid yourself of the bullshit I peddle sometimes…LOL? Or, we all have mouths, too. And, of course, there are often times I should shut mine! But, there is no dispute that only women have that really important hole. The one I love to cherish and worship.
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So, I had to do a little research on who invented the donut and why. I mean, really, why would someone randomly say, “Hey, why don’t we punch a hole in the dough and call it a doughnut?” Now, think about that? If doughnuts (using this alternate spelling for a reason) are a lesbian thing, why add the word nut to the end of dough? Why not doughhole?
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I was disappointed to learn it was not a lesbian who invented the doughnut. Here’s what I found out about the history of doughnuts:
Several stories live out there, but the common thread is that the doughnut was invented by a young sailor by the name of Hanson Crockett Gregory. One version states he was sick of the greasy fried treats that didn’t quite cook all the way in the center, thus the removal of the middle creating a hole. Another version insists that during particularly rough seas he would impale the fried dough on a spoke to keep his hands free. This all happened in 1847. The machine to create the hole was not invented until 1920 by Adolph Levitt, a refugee from czarist Russia (maybe that is why Trump has such an affinity for Russia). The device was a huge success, although why someone couldn’t just punch a hole in the dough, who knows? But, the donut’s real success came in 1934 at the World’s Fair in Chicago, doughnuts or donuts were billed as ‘the hit food of the Century of Progress’.
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I’d love to rewrite history a bit….maybe before 1847, some inventive little lesbian was being playful, stuck a fried treat on her lover’s hoo ha and began nibbling, creating a hole so that she could reach the real treat, the creamy center of her lover. However, in my version, she didn’t call it a doughnut, she called it a doughhole…It’s possible!
So….have you missed me? I did say I would write a blog every now and then when the mood flows over me. Oh, and of course the obligatory PSA….please check out my books so that I continue to be inspired now and again to write a blog!
I am still peddling The Dream Catcher because honestly, sales are pretty pathetic so far on this book (beyond anemic) and… cross my heart and hope to die… The Dream Catcher is a super fun book (all 10 people who reviewed it say so!): Dream Catcher Listen to me read the prologue and 1st chapter of The Dream Catcher here.
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June 11, 2018
Truth is Stranger Than Fiction
I don’t know about other authors, but a little bit of me and my experiences find their way into my books. Sometimes, I’ll get a note from an editor questioning something, thinking that whatever I’ve written doesn’t seem realistic…or doesn’t ring true. On those occasions, I put in a little comment fessing up to either that happening to me, or to someone in my circle of friends.
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I was reminded of this on Friday when I unwisely used a large butcher knife to remove the avocado seed. I missed the seed and jabbed the knife into my hand. Blood flowed freely. I immediately stuck my hand under a constant flow of cold water while my wife retrieved the gauze. It hurt. A lot.
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So…here’s the thing. When I’m in pain, sometimes I pass out. One minute, I’m standing by the sink waiting for first aid and the next minute I’m flat on my back looking into the concerned eyes of my wife. I don’t remember passing out. I give huge kudos to my wife who did not panic when I was unresponsive for 30-60 seconds.
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With our Friday night a bust because, apparently, I hit my head on the wood table and now I’m feeling rather nauseous, I settled on the couch and moaned like the big baby I am. The next day, I crawled out of bed and felt a sharp pain in my ass…a literal pain in my ass.
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So, of course, I went into the bathroom, stood in front of the mirror, and looked at my bare ass. I was attempting to find the culprit. Then, I made the mistake of trying to sit on the couch. That was a bad idea. I woke my wife and made her look at my bare ass. Obviously, she needed to touch it. After palpating the area, she declared, yup it’s swollen. She’s brought me an ice pack and looked up the symptoms for a broken tailbone. It fit to a T.
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Our dinner plans went out the window. Instead, my wife drove and got us food. On the way, she bought me a donut. Not the kind you eat. A plastic blow up thingy for me to sit my ass on for the long drive I would need to make on Sunday.
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At the time this wasn’t particularly funny…especially the six and a half hour drive back to Forks. It’s not terribly funny at work either. Imagine me sitting on the very edge of my office chair and leaning forward in an attempt to get some relief. I keep standing, but that hurts after a bit of time as well.
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I’ve no doubt this will make it into something—a free short maybe. If I take up writing again and include this into a future book, I’ll probably get an editorial comment about how unrealistic this is. I plan to direct them to this blog!
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Truth is stranger than fiction. If you think something in one of my books sounds off, send me an e-mail and I can tell you if it’s the work of a deranged author or one of those strange truths! But…you gotta get my books to find those little pearls.
Honest…The Dream Catcher is a super fun book: Dream Catcher Listen to me read the prologue and 1st chapter of The Dream Catcher here.
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