Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 100

i'm being held...

hostage by a wolf. among other creatures. back soonish. think good finish your book thoughts for me! :)

XOXO
Sommer

Robert Goulet, Stolen Barbie Dresses and Tinfoil Boots...

I am guest blogging over at Happily Ever After to celebrate Christmas in July! At some point there is a giveaway that includes my Christmas book PRETTY IN PINK, but for now, go get the dirt on what Christmastime means to me...and it ain't busy sidewalks.

XOXO
Sommer

More Scars or How NOT to Have a Dermatological Exam

I'm not afraid of scars. Truly. They don't bother me, and if pressed, I'll tell you that they're rather sexy. I have a big one on my left bicep from a spider bite that had to be excised. One on the back of my left knee from same. I have chicken pox scars everywhere (matching ones between my thighs where I put my thighs together and…squish). I have many, many scars. And my fair share of moles.

So on this blisteringly hot Baltimore day, while still waiting to hear any kind of word on my Grandmother's state, I had a first appointment with a new doctor for a head to toe skin exam.

First of all, any new doctor torques me up. Doctor's appointments tend to torque me up in general. And being a moley motherfucker [though my other grandmother called them 'beauty marks'], I was very torqued up.

It started okay. They were SUPER nice and her assistant came in and said, "You are not thirty-nine."

Which flustered me at first so I brilliantly stammered, "Yes, I am. Why…what did I write?"

"No you wrote that, but you really do not look it at all."

Oh! Blossoming, blooming happy smile. Thank you, thank you! Good stuff.

So then the doctor comes in to see me and chat with me while I sit there in my undies and the worlds largest cocktail napkin. Then she starts the exam. Me standing, giant napkin gown technically off but clutched to my chest as she checks me.

She asks me what I do and I say writer. Then she asks me what I write and I report "Romance" but without air quotes(!) because basically that is what I do. I write romances that tend to have tons of boffing. But ya know, we don't need to go there with me naked wrapped in a napkin now do we?

And she checks me.

And…she…checks…me.

And she is constantly moving the napkin this way and that way but I am holding the napkin which in an extreme moment of flustered anxiety and annoyance just seemed so STUPID. I mean, I am an adult. Hell, I am almost forty. And they are only tits. And she is a doctor. And I mean really…how much more of me is there to look at? I mean, right?

So I say: "Can I just drop this thing?"

"Whatever you are comfortable with."

So feeling very liberated and brave and forward thinking, I slap my paper napkin on the table and stand there starkers but for some bright yellow Victoria Secret panties.

Because surely she is almost done this part of me!

Um…no.

She checks me and checks me and checks me and thank you baby Jesus I am not a larger person because I'd still probably be there.

Then she says, "Get up on the table on your belly."

Hmph. Because now I have to maneuver in front of very very very small scant slight tiny Asian woman who looks like some gorgeous figure from a painting…naked.

I felt like Gulliver streaking past the Lilliputians.

And I get up there and she checks…and checks…Jesus, between my toes too!

And I am saying to myself, this…this is how I write those goofy, flighty heroines that people always ask me how I write. Because I am them. So I say to self, it is okay because this will be really good in a story and it doesn't even matter if I look like a moron…Om…

And she says, "Now on your back."

And then I have to roll over so I do a floppy awkward I am naked but now I refuse to drop this fucking napkin gown now that I have retrieved it--which might I add--is suddenly the MOST LOVELY piece of clothing ever roll. And…gasp…finally she is done.

Finally!

And I have to have two moles removed and I will have two more sexy scars but they will be nothing compared to the scars I will carry inside for having done the "I am so fucking clever let me just be naked in your presence" panty dance.

And that's how you NOT to have a dermatological exam.

THE END

XOXO

Sommer
p.s. I think I need to buy my new shiny doctor that awesome Steth0scope ID Tag

this reviewer recommends tissues...

but not for what you might be thinking. Read possibly one of the nicest reviews ever. Five divas given to moi by Donna. It came at the perfect time, during a very stressful day where I could use a bright spot. And it made my day to hear that her husband read Allure, too!

And for those of you who follow me on Twitter and Facebook, I have no update on my grandmother, but am trying to follow the no news is good news train of thought. Thank you all for you kind thoughts, prayers and good wishes. Even the man kept a hand on me all through the night (where I thankfully slept a bit better but not super). And trust me, I need reassurance if I'm letting anyone (barring an infant) touch me while I sleep. I am very much a you belong waaaaaaaaaay over there on your side sleeper. :)

XOXO
S

"the only downside to that is I want more of them"

Woohoo! First official review (to my knowledge) of NO GUILT is out from Sizzling Hot Book Reviews. Big fat smile. I would say more but i think I might have gotten three hours sleep last might. Maybe. I am stupid sleepy due to watching a particularly unsettling Criminal Minds at 11.30 pm like an ijit and then scaring the shit out of myself and creating a panic attack and...well, I am tired. Let's leave it at that.

So, yay for four hearts and Poppy and the boys and zombies and sex. Woop! Oh, and I am writing book three as we speak. Well, not as we speak, but as soon as I finish typing I'm back at it. ;)~

XOXO
Sommer

Miss Sommer's Etiquette For New Writers

I don't consider myself an expert. I don't consider myself an anything at all if you must know beyond a busy working writer. But I do consider myself to have manners. And manners are manners are manners, my friend, regardless of venue. So imagine my dismay at finding that about 50% of the submissions that are coming in for my newbie writer call are coming in sans an introductory note.

No note. No nothing. Just info and a document attached.

Hunh.

I might take this chance to point out that one of the first ones to arrive with a note was from a writer I had already established a rapport with, so that person would have been forgiven more than others. And yet, there it was—a nice note.

So newbies, let me take this chance to say, if you are going to submit anything…anywhere…at ANY time, have some manners. Show good breeding and at the very least have something like this:


Dear Editor (use the name if possible!),

Attached is my story titled "STORYNAME". It's approximately 1,000,000 words in length.

HERE IS WHERE YOU CAN ADD SOME CREDITS IF YOU HAVE THEM. IF NOT, DO NOT WORRY. SKIP THIS PART.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Best,

YOUR NAME HERE


That is a bare bones note. And you should always add it. Otherwise you are doing the written equivalent of going on a job interview, walking past your interviewer, not shaking his or her hand and sitting down in his or her guest chair and slapping your resume on his or her desk without ever having the courtesy of saying hi. Would you hire you if you did that?

The goal of this antho was to help new authors get a leg up. That also includes pointers and tips on getting published often. Tip #1…use your manners.

If you passed along my call, I'd kindly ask you to pass along a link to this blog also. :)

XOXO

Sommer

13 years ago today...

I had a baby. That baby is now a teenager. And though I am skeered to be the owner of TWO teenagers, 13 is my lucky number. So I am hoping she will be gentle with me. And also, I would like to add, I am glad I do not have to have another baby today.

Happy Birthday, Girl Child! (though you can only read this blog when you are 18. Okay, I meant 21. 65? I'll just print it out for you...)

XOXO
S

more killing of dead things...

oopsie, I forgot what day it was. You can blame the man. He's been off for a week and tonight he scrambled my brain by being filthy. But it's Saturday and Charlotte Stein (she of the brilliant book, see below) has another excerpt of mine on her blog. Woop woop!

XOXO
Sommer

Pull it into the truck stop and get yourself some Scrapple made out of sexy...

So, my exercise addiction is back to 150% just like in the old days. Today was 65 minutes on the bike in front of Starsky and Hutch while stealing sneaks at passages from KD Grace's book The Initiation of Ms. Holly. And then kettlebells because I do not want my upper half to collapse into my lower half.

I love Starsky and Hutch. Love, love, love. And yes, being born in 1971 (which used to sound so recent and now sounds so fucking far back) I LOVED THE SHOW. Truly. I had pale yellow tee with a Starsky and Hutch iron-on on it. And I had a Starsky and Hutch play set complete with plastic gun and handcuffs (that I promptly handcuffed my BFF to the oven door with and proceeded to lose the key. My mother had to butter her wrists to get her free). So, I am a total 70s child.

Anyway, you are so welcome for this clip and that rambling blog about nothing at all. Ha!

Happy Saturday.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. Anyone who says endorphins do not make you happy is not sitting on my numb ass right now. *snort*
p.p.s. I guess I should write something now, hunh?

Control by Charlotte Stein (a book review, yo)

I rarely ever do this, but I so very much LOVED this book, that I wanted to post the review on my blog. If you do not own it, get it. Top/bottom/middle of the sandwich person. Whatever you're into, get it. You'll like it. Trust me. (Esp if you love some humor with your filth).

Review of Control by Charlotte Stein
by Sommer Marsden
Five Stars

Urgh! If I had six stars to give, I'd give this book six stars. I adored it. I more than adored it, I adored and worshiped it and ate it in three big bites.

One of the most original erotic novels I've ever read. I loved every single character, including the one I wasn't supposed to, but secretly sort of was. Which means this book was pretty much finessed out of its pretty little panties (I imagine them to be yellow for some reason)

The most brilliant part was the tension, sexual and otherwise and I'd read sections where I became so turned on I thought I might die of it (or possibly explode spontaneously) and then I'd turn the page or read the next line and there'd be some incredibly clever line and this huge burble of laughter would just rush up out of me and I'd think: "oh. oral orgasm."

Because that is what it was to a T. A pressure build up and then an extremely well executed release.

Trust me, CONTROL, would make me want to try topping if I weren't such a good bottom. So, bottom line: fabulous, funny, filthy. The perfect erotic novel. I loved Charlotte Stein before but now I'd like to move to Whereverthehellshelives and open a dirty book store with her. Maybe she'd make me stand in a corner. If I'm lucky.

Seventy trillion stars!