Renee Miller's Blog, page 32

Cocks and Clits: Porn vs. Erotica

  Warning: In case you're dumb as a stump and the title didn't tip you off, this blog is not about good clean fun. We're about to get a little dirty.

Profanity and slightly graphic depictions of sex will follow.

Children and Clean Fiction Advocates Move Along. This Blog Will Only Traumatize You.

Today's topic is racy and salacious, even dirty and downright pornographic. Got your attention? Good. As you any of you who've read my work know, I have very healthy imagination when it comes to sex. I can imagine all kinds of things in very vivid detail. You don't even want to know what I've done to Clive. Is this one of those areas where write what you know applies? That's for me to know.

My reason for bringing sex up at all is that I'm tired of porn and erotica getting mixed up and I'm tired of them being taboo.

While some of the sex scenes I write border on pornographic, I intentionally keep them just behind the line most of the time. Why? I think there's an art to writing sex scenes. Many authors and readers don't seem to understand this difference. They think erotic equals sex. Period. It does not. Some think porn is the same as erotica. Two completely different things. I think the readers who mistake the two annoy me the most. Why would you read something clearly erotic or clearly "adult" when you claim to prefer clean fiction? Why? So you can sit back on your pretentious little ass and judge the writer and call what they write filthy porn. That's why. Stop it. I hate you people. Sex happens, just like shit and other necessary evils. Why pretend it doesn't?

Personally, I don't think porn is a bad thing; it just has a time and a place. There are times where it is inappropriate and very wrong. Like tantrums and masturbation, porn isn't something you just pull out whenever the urge strikes you.

How do you know where the line is? Is there a place for porn or erotica in mainstream fiction. Definitely. But let's look at what each is, not what people mistakenly believe it is:

Erotica is intended to arouse, or excite. In my opinion, it's a tool, not unlike characterization or setting. While it may be graphic, the story surrounding the sexual encounters is what is most important. The sex does not drive the story. The sex is PART of the story. Without it, the story makes little sense, and vice versa. Erotica doesn't tend to use porn words either. Cock and clit are borderline words. Too many cocks and clits and you're writing porn. A cock here and a clit there, you're probably erotic. Those of you inserting throbbing cocks into sopping wet pussies and calling it erotic? Quit it. Goodness, that's awful shit. Sopping. Ew.

Porn is intended to get you off. Porn is what you carry into the bathroom to view or read while enjoying your "me time" or wherever it is that you masturbate. Yep. I said it. By the way, the couch is not the place to do this. Gross. Pick a spot that's disinfectable.

Porn is about sex and nothing else. Story? Plot? Characterization? Have you read any porn recently? I have, and there is none of that. It's pure, unadulterated sex for the sake of sex. It's nasty, usually cheesy, and sometimes quite entertaining to read. Skill? Sadly most writers of porn lack the necessary skills to write what I like to call "real" fiction. I'm not judging. It's a lucrative industry. You don't need skills. I could write a half dozen novellas or flash pieces tomorrow and they'd sell like hotcakes. I don't because well…I don't know. Perhaps I will.

But writers of mainstream and genre fiction can dip their toes in erotic waters and that doesn't make their novel erotica. Hell, we can dip them in the porn stream too. (Although, I'd wash my foot when I was done with that particular fluid.) The novel doesn't have to be tagged as porn just because you've got a couple of nasty dirty sex scenes either. The secret? I'll get to that.

I want to illustrate the difference between erotica and downright porn. Oh yes, I'm gonna give you a sample. Which of the two scenes below is erotic? Which is pornographic?

Scene One

She stepped closer, so that her breath fanned my cheek. Raising a small hand, she stroked my hair. "I want to take what's ours back. You and I could rule it all. My, but you're prettier than I expected."

"Thanks?"

She smiled, her dark eyes searching mine. I'd pay anything to have lips like hers. Full, perfectly red, moist…she darted a pink tongue across them. I could not be turned on. What had I turned into?

"If we joined, we could have it all. Don't you want that?"

"I—uh, it's not impossible, no."

"I want to kiss you. May I?"

Since I stopped saying no a few weeks ago, I nodded. My brain screamed at me to run. But where? She inhabited my head. I couldn't run. Her lips brushed mine. Soft. Not at all what I'd experienced with Nate or Chaos. Pleasant, but strange. I opened my mouth and she deepened the kiss. Her hand crept under my shirt, lightly stroking my ribcage, just below my breast.

"This is—I can't. Stop." My voice sounded breathy…weak. I didn't want her to stop.

"You are thinking like a human. It is not wrong to share yourself with another. Not if you want to."

I didn't want to. Did I?

She took my hand, lifting it to her chest. Beneath the filmy material of her dress, her nipple hardened against my palm. "Have you ever shared yourself with a female?"

I shook my head. Of course not. Duh, I wasn't gay.

"Human thoughts, dear." She whispered, pressing against my hand. I'd never felt a large breast, only my own, which were anything but large. I imagined them to be squishy, like a bag of milk, not firm like hers. My fingers squeezed involuntarily.  

Diana sighed. "Imagine what I might taste like if you trailed your tongue over my body. What if you took my breast in your mouth, sucking, teasing it until I cried out? I want you to make me beg for more. Go on. You know you want to."

She lowered the top of her dress, exposing the breast I cupped.  Removing the hand that held it there, she clasped the back of my head. I let her push me forward, until I was faced with her nipple. Licking my lips, I hesitated. Darn it, I was curious. Just once, maybe?

"Take it." She pressed gently on my head.

I opened my mouth, closing my eyes. Her groan did funny things to my insides, filled me with a need not unlike what I'd felt when giving Nate that fateful blowjob. I sucked, rolling my tongue over the hard, yet so soft bud. The sensation turned me on. I couldn't deny it.

"Bite it." Bite it? This had to be a supernatural fetish. "Hurt me."

Fine. I'd hurt her. I bit down, dragging my teeth over what I knew to be a sensitive little bit of flesh. "That's it, sugar." Sugar? I paused. She pushed at my head again. "The other one. Please."

I know I should have just backed away. Stopped the insanity right there. That's it. Bianca Smith is not a lesbian. But I didn't. The experience was so unreal, like being a virgin all over again. Curious, terrified, unable to stop the train that I knew would careen off its fucking tracks, but I rode it anyway. I lifted my head and moved to the other breast. She didn't have to tell me what to do this time. Didn't have to push my face into her either. I willingly sucked at her, nipping a bit roughly at the tender skin until her breath quickened. So did mine.

"Is this all you want?" I asked. Was that my voice?

"Oh, no. I want much more than this, sugar. So do you. Imagine my tongue inside you, my fingers touching just the right places. Men know nothing about the female body. They maul it, fondle it, and pound it into submission. Not so with another female. Do you want me to show you what only a woman knows, Bianca?"

"No." I'd never been bi-anything, not that I'd really considered it before. But damn, I could not remove the image of her dark head between my pasty-white thighs no matter how I tried. I did want to know. And although it scared the bejesus out of me, my mouth watered at the thought of tasting her.

"You lie. Why do you deny wanting me as much as I want you? They've got you thinking you belong to them. You don't. If you and I were to b—pair up, we could eliminate them altogether. We'd have everything."

The hand at my breast slipped to my jeans, under the waistband, and down. I never wore underwear. My mother told me I'd regret that.

Diana's fingers moved against me, inside me. Oh my, she wasn't kidding.

She kissed that place right below my ear; the one that sent my insides to mush. "So wet. Your body betrays you, sugar. You want me to make love to you. This is our purpose. Me and you. Come on, don't you want to know what it could be like?"

My legs trembled. Something tugged at me, deep in my stomach. I blinked. "Stop."Pushing against her, I tried to free myself from her awesomely inappropriate fingers. She pushed back and we fell. Her body was light, her breasts pressed against my mine. Damn these people and their clothes stealing. Grinding her hips, she covered my mouth once more. The kiss no longer gentle, and not at all soft, she thrust her tongue into my mouth. I pushed again and she moved away. Silly me, I thought I'd won my inner battle with willpower, but no. Diana only repositioned herself over my thighs, and lifted her beautiful face to grin at me.

"They're watching us you know. They see everything. We could own them, you and I. They're in fits at the moment, wishing they were here, touching you this way. But, why should the boys have all the fun?"

Please, let her be lying. The thought of Nate or Chaos seeing me doing this…with her, filled me with shame.

"Silly thing. They're not judging you for doing what is natural. They're jealous." Grasping my hips, she lowered her head, her hair tickling my stomach. Cheese and crackers, the woman knew what she was doing. My body jerked, wanting to push into her talented mouth, but the tugging in my stomach intensified into a gnawing pain, despite the fireworks sparking down in my nether regions.

Scene Two

"Lay down, Cowboy. I'll teach you a new game."

"I like games." Jack lay on the bed and she joined him, setting a vibrator and a bottle of lotion next to his head. "I wish you wouldn't put that so close to me. I don't like them."

"You're just jealous of it. Don't worry, it doesn't compare to the real thing. I'll need it later and you'll be glad once you see what it does." She took his cock into her mouth and began working her magic as promised.

Jack wound his hands in her hair and pushed her face into him leaving her no choice but to take all of it in. Whitney liked that. Jenny did not.

"God, I love your mouth." Jack groaned as she trailed her teeth along the shaft and then back down again sending shivers down his spine and fire into his balls. "Faster, I'm almost there."

She stopped. Jack wanted to push head her back down, but he knew she had better things planned. When she picked up the lotion and rubbed it on his cock he was intrigued. When it tingled and then went numb, he was confused. Damn it. That stuff made it impossible for him to get off and she knew it.

"Whitney, you know I don't like that shit. Now this could take forever. I don't have all night."

She smiled but said nothing. Squeezing more lotion on her hand Whitney reached behind her. Jack blinked. Was she rubbing it on her ass? Oh God yes, she was rubbing it into her ass. His heart raced in his chest. Shit, he was too old for this. But what a way to go. No one had ever let him do this and Jack couldn't recall ever asking.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

She capped the bottle and knelt on the bed.

"Why don't you come up here and see?"

Jack jumped up and moved to the end of the bed. She pointed her ass at him and he positioned himself but hesitated.

"Are you sure about this? It might hurt." He didn't want to hurt her, even if she did ask for it. She enjoyed it rough but if he hurt her, she'd pout for days, even if it was her idea.

"It won't hurt. It's going to feel amazing. The key is lubrication and relaxation. Now do it."

Jack eased his way in, not ready to believe she would really let him do it. If she stopped him now, he'd cry. He expected her to do so any minute, but she didn't, pushing her ass against him instead.  His breath caught in his chest as her muscles clenched tight around him, and Jack heard her soft moan followed by the unmistakable hum of the vibrator. Opening his eyes he watched her place it first against herself and then just under his balls.

"Sweet Jesus," Was that his voice?

"See, Jack? When I'm done, I'll just help you along with my friend here and everyone is happy." She moved the vibrator back to herself and pushed against him so that he was all the way in.

"Nguh," Jack grunted. Nguh? He didn't care how he sounded anymore. This was just too fucking good to be true.

"That's what I'm talking about. Now push, Cowboy. You can move around a bit."

He snapped out of his shocked stupor and moved in and out. The sight of her bent like that would have been enough to end it without her lotion. She cried out and pushed the vibrator inside of her and it hummed against him. Jack nearly fainted, his heart racing painfully in his chest.

Can't tell which is which? Well, the content of the scene is not what makes something porn or erotica. It's the purpose of the scene and the writing that surrounds it. That is the secret. Easy, yes?

Think of the second scene as a short story. Imagine Jack picks Whitney up at a bar and this is the result, the ending would be their climax. (gigglesnort) Make it about twice as graphic, with fewer pretty words and proper sentences, more cocks and whatnot, and you've got what sells as porn these days.

This is actually a scene out of The Legend of Jackson Murphy, which is mainstream fiction with a pornographic scene or two mixed in. Are the scenes necessary to plot? Yes. Do they need to be in so much detail? Not at all. This is what pushes them into the porn zone. I could take them out, fade to black, be a bit vague, or simply have Jack talk about the sex that occurred, but what would be the fun in that? I included it for a reason and it wasn't intended to shock. This scene is the single scene that every one of my beta readers remembers. And they aren't disgusted because it fits the plot and it fits the characters. I didn't just pull it out of my ass (excuse the pun) to add interest to the story.

The first scene is from a work in progress, I haven't quite tweaked the ending enough to consider it a finished draft. You'll probably notice I have some tweaking to do within the scene too. Sorry for the "roughness". It is one of a few sexual encounters in this particular work. None of them include the same two people. The entire novel is (hopefully) thick with sexual tension.

But is it porn or erotica or is it genre with erotic elements? Erotica. The focus is on the story, but the erotic elements are crucial to the plot and characterization. Part of the underlying theme is how society influences what we view as right and wrong. Society influences sexual…activities very much. Imagine if no one would judge you for what you did or who you did it to? Wouldn't that be fantastic? What if monogamy was a choice and not an expectation? Would we see so many people sharing their bodies with just one person forever and ever? I doubt it. Without the sex, it's just me babbling on about these theories in a narrative that would be quite boring if you ask me.

So there you have it. Porn and erotica are not the same. They aren't bad either. If your novel calls for sex, then use one or the other. It's okay. To keep it tasteful, or to keep it…real, make sure that it's necessary. Don't chicken out though. If you're going to write a sex scene you need to bite the bullet and avoid euphemisms like loins, love caves and shafts, but also go easy on the clits and cocks. Okay? Great. I look forward to being aroused by your work. Writing work. Pervs.

I've Waited for 2012 for Too Long

And so it begins. Although the original launch for On Fiction Writing was scheduled for October 12, 2011, I think it's fitting that delays and problems caused us to push the date to January 1, 2012. Why? The year is only just starting and already I've accomplished a goal I've dreamed of crossing off the list for several years. Do something big with my career that not only helps me, but that gives back to everyone who supported me through this crazy process. On Fiction Writing is that "something big".



No, I've still not landed "the contract" and I haven't published any of my novels just yet, but my goals are broad and publication is a small, but important part of them. 2011 was a year of enormous growth for me both personally and professionally. I learned to look at the "Big Picture" rather than focus on the minor details. I would love to traditionally publish. I'm not going to say that it doesn't matter to me at all, because it does. However, it's not my only option and it took me a long time to admit that to myself.



But when I peruse the amazing thing I created with Carlos, and I realize just how many amazing and talented people have supported us through every step of this insanity, I'm filled with pride in what we've accomplished here. It's a feeling that personally, I'm not really familiar with. Sure, I'm proud of my kids and other things in my life, but these are things that are going to be what they're going to be with or without me. I don't have to do a whole lot for them to be great. They simply are. This site and Writer's Companion are both packed with my blood, sweat and tears and damn it, I'm patting myself on the back and raising a glass of blackberry wine to all of my hard work. (Of course, to your hard work Carlos and to yours Luis, Veronica, Wendy, Paul, Henry, Katrina, Laura, Mike, Donna, Rita, TJ, Laura, Karmick Solutions [our programmers] and so many more that I know I've forgotten to mention.)



For all of you who have supported me here on the Edge, enduring my long rants, my crazy tangents and my moody weirdness, I want to offer 6 months free membership so that you can see all that we've created with this site. Just use coupon code XM827 when registering and you can wander OFW free of charge until June. After that it's less than $1 per day. Share the code with whoever you want. Although, after January, it expires. Let's see how many writers we can bring to the dark side before then.



Welcome to our dream, which we like to call "The Tribe".

Countdown to Awesome: 5 Days

In less than one week, on January 1, 2012, Carlos J. Cortes and I will see a dream realized. It is a dream that has taken three very long years and many tantrums and tears (me the tantrums, Carlos the tears, although he'll never admit that) to accomplish.

Will it be everything we imagined? Probably not right away. But eventually, yes it will. How can I be certain of that? I refuse to have it any other way, and I will work as hard as I have to in order to see the dream become full reality. I pity anyone who stands in my way.

What the hell am I talking about? On Fiction Writing: The Website. As we said in the Writer's Companion, everything has a beginning. Ideas are no exception. The concept for this website and the book began with a "wistful breath held in a clenched fist, and that breath set the dice in motion. The idea crystallized during a transatlantic telephone conversation between Renée (the long) and Carlos (the short)."

It started with the book. We wanted to compile a reference manual that would serve as a writer's best friend; a constant companion. As the idea blossomed and took hold of our imaginations and our hearts, it mutated, expanding to much more. Carlos started it with a couple of questions, and damn my easily corrupted brain, he had me at "What if…"

What if there was a place dedicated to writers? Imagine a writer's website that was more than a haunt, more than just a critique group or online forum.

What if a place existed that met the needs of all writers at any skill level? What if it enabled industry professionals of all kinds to connect and exchange knowledge and skills and build careers based on trust and respect?

Just think of what it would be like to enter a tribe where you are welcome simply for being what you are; where you are encouraged to speak your mind, to criticize perceived wrongs and not be ostracized because your opinion is not the popular one?

Imagine having the ability to hone your craft and to build your platform, having the chance to spread your creative wings in a supportive and nurturing environment. No ass kissing or pretentiousness. Just real people doing what they love to do. What if there was a place that put authors first?

We have it.

When Carlos first put the idea out there, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wanted it more than I'd wanted anything in a long while. It felt so right, so perfectly suited to my goals that it felt…too good to be something I should attempt to do. It's surely too big an endeavor for me to manage. Who the hell did I think I was? Why would anyone want to join a site built by me—a nobody? I mean, we're both (Carlos and I) loonier than Aunt Mary after too much eggnog.

But then I realized, shit I've been dividing my time between several sites for how long now? I've been on both sides: teacher and student. I've often wished I could find one place that offered support in the form of community, knowledge in the form of workshops and industry news, experience in the form of critique partners and brutal editing workshops, and promotion in the form of free and easy.

We built it. And yes, I can do it. It's what I've been doing all along. The only difference was I did it on other people's sites, in small increments so that I made no visible change in my life or anyone else's. Why me? Well why the hell not?

But these points simply justify why this website needed to be built. Our primary goal, the ethos of this site and the book, is to help other writers succeed.

Times are changing. As the Publishing Industry groans under a mighty shake up, new markets crop up like weeds and the tried and tested policies don't work anymore. Publishers, who used to dedicate large portions of their budget and time to polish manuscripts, have had to cut expenses to the bone by paring down their once abundant rosters of  copy editors. As a result, manuscripts need to be print-ready to have any chance of publication, which in turn demands from the writer considerable technical skills. Authors are treated like cattle, herded in and out and if the brand ain't right, they're sent to pasture where they wait for a bit of luck to roll their way.

The old way of getting published isn't working. Authors make their own opportunities now and we have to take an active role in our success. Luck? Pfft. Ain't no such thing. And this is coming from an Irish lass. I'm not talking self-publishing versus traditional or any of that tired nonsense. I'm speaking in general terms. YOU are responsible for your goals. All you need is the right environment to realize them.

We want to give that to you.

In a market awash with millions of poorly written—and horribly edited—manuscripts seeking a place to roost, agents and publishers have closed ranks to a point where a writer must have not only superhuman abilities but also be willing to run a vicious gauntlet to have a reasonable chance of publishing traditionally.

And even then, writers have a one in a million chance at succeeding. Is that fair? We are the talent, the driving force behind the publishing industry. Where's our success? Why are we still fighting each other? Authors need a place to come together, to be one. It is when we work together that dreams become reality. On Fiction Writing is for dreamers who want to become doers.

Aren't you curious?

Here's a bit of what you'll find:

Agora : A forum in which writers can discuss every facet of the publishing industry. Learn, exchange knowledge, goof off, and make lasting friendships with people from all walks of life and all cultures.

Showcase : A virtual bookshelf where you can post your book cover and the first five pages. Its purpose? Promotion. Free promotion. The Showcase is a place where you can tempt readers to buy your book. Want to know more? Send me an email at Renee[at]onfictionwriting[dot]com. Put "Showcase" in the subject line. 

Peer Critique: A writer's workshop where you critique the work of others, and post your own work for critique. It's free for members. It's awesome. It allows you to polish that manuscript until it shines.

E-zine : The homepage is an area full of information and opportunity. Articles by OFW editors and members (yes, you may submit your article and have it published on the homepage, we insist that you do), interviews with industry movers and shakers, competitions and writing contests, and the Rack, where Michael Keyton tortures the bravest souls with questions that require more than a yes or no answer. Mike demands that his interviewees take a position…not bend to the status quo.

There's much more. These are just a sampling of what On Fiction Writing contains within its cyber walls.

With Writer's Companion, we wanted to give other writers the tools, weapons, and skills to negotiate the Caudine Forks of the Publishing Industry. And survive with a smile at the end.

With On Fiction Writing, we wanted to give writers the community and the hands-on expertise no book can give you. Why now? Why not now? With the exponential growth of the Internet, globalized commerce, new consumer rights, and trading laws have fueled an unprecedented thirst for professional writing services. If writers have ever been in need of a place focused solely on their success, it is now.

Why me? Why Carlos? Because over the past ten years we've done little else except learning the hard way everything contained in this book and on this website.

Above all, we are mongrel writers, and that alone gives us the moral right to build such a haven. We wanted to put together a place that would be useful to us and our harassed kin: other mongrel writers. In our opinion, a site run one of the household names who monopolize the NYT Bestsellers List wouldn't be of much use to us.

As we've said before, these thoroughbreds learned the craft (those who did) a long time ago and are used to being fussed over, groomed, vaccinated, deloused, and taken for walkies by agents, publishers, and editors. On the other hand, we're there, on the street, under railway bridges, in mole-infested and unheated garages, and in vacant lots, burning the midnight oil in the company of other mongrel scribes because writing is our passion. We don't wear a tag or belong to any posh kennel club, but we have never forgotten our origins, or how to enjoy a good scratch.

On December 31st I will be posting to Facebook, Twitter and on various other discussion groups and forums, announcing the launch of On Fiction Writing. When I do, I will be providing all of you the means to join the site for six months free of charge. If we were millionaires or even slightly wealthy, we'd have offered it for free indefinitely. But this is the real world. Such a site costs both money and time, but we've arranged membership to be cheaper than a half-cup of coffee per day. It's worth every cent. We promise.

We are not alone in this endeavor. We are blessed, hell blessed doesn't even begin to describe the amazing talent we have supporting and working with us in this endeavor. Writers, editors, professionals, real hard working folks, have come together to help Carlos and I realize our dream. We hope it will be yours as well.

Welcome to our tribe.

Blacklists and Other Bullshit

This is a long post. Sorry, but you know me and my tendency to ramble. Hell, even Clive left after waiting all night for me to finish. Perhaps I'm stupid for posting the following, but I'll take the risk.



Blacklisting is a myth. A scare tactic used by less than legitimate folks in the publishing industry to force authors to shut up. It's not real. No one really has a blacklist. The Big Six and good agents certainly don't employ such tactics.

Right?

Well…

In this 2007 post by Victoria Strauss on the Writer Beware Blogs, it is stated very clearly that the practice of blacklisting isn't something reputable publishers (which is what the Big Six are supposed to be) do. If you don't feel like reading the post, I'll summarize. Victoria essentially says (IMO) that blacklisting is not used by legitimate publishers or agents, but warns against doing or saying anything online that you don't want said industry folks to know about. From Victoria's article:

"This idea is actively encouraged by scammers and other disreputables."

"Don't believe it. It's nothing more than an intimidation tactic intended to frighten you or shut you up."

"…systematic blacklisting is not something that should be high on your worry list."

"If you take responsibility for your words, and say nothing online that you aren't willing for everyone in the world to see--including the agent you queried last week--you won't need to worry about who's doing a websearch on you, or what they might learn."

I have great respect for Victoria Strauss and for Writer Beware. She and her associates within Writer Beware are a priceless resource for writers and have worked tirelessly to expose scams and the asshats that perpetuate them. So, I'm a little perplexed and extremely disappointed that she was so quick to judge Sebastian Marshall for his open letter to Simon and Schuster, and that on Twitter, she reacted to his actions with tweets like "O...M...G. Is this guy for real? Way to get blacklisted, dude."

Wait. What? How is that possible if blacklisting doesn't exist?

The rest of the discussion irritated me simply because it was so derogatory and judgmental with tweets saying things like he must be off his meds and a he's a fool.

I'm not calling Victoria out as a bad guy. She is definitely not . She's entitled to her opinion as everyone else is and I don't believe she should keep it to herself if that's what she thinks. BUT, I do have issue with the contradictions here. I have issues with many industry folks who can't seem to stay on a single page on issues like this. It's this type of contradictory behavior that has new authors unsure of which end is up and which way is right. Guess what new authors; there is no universal "right way" in the publishing industry. Sure we get tons of advice from various professionals and all of it is sound and logical, but because it often seems to contradict other sound and logical advice, it's hard to be sure. All that I know for certain is that the right path is the path that you wish to take. Only you can determine what's right for you and what you're willing to settle for.

But Renee, what he's bitching about is normal in this industry. It's slow. Unresponsiveness is common even for bestselling authors. This is how the industry works.

It might be how things are done, but I don't have to accept it as okay.

Did Marshall ruin his career? Perhaps. I guess it depends on your point of view. Is publishing traditionally with the Big Six a primary career goal for him? I don't know. If he doesn't base his success on publishing with one of the big guys, then what has he ruined?

I found myself becoming more and more annoyed as I read discussion threads that focused on his sanity, his manic whatever, why doesn't he wear a shirt in one of his videos, and "blaming" bipolar disorder for his actions while acknowledging that the practices of the traditional publishing industry are indeed archaic and unfair to authors. They acknowledge that he makes "valid points" but in the next breath criticize him for voicing them. People! Come on! You either agree or you disagree. Quit watering it down to cover your ass. If you have an opinion, then state it firmly or shut the hell up.

I read through Sebastian's blog over the past week. Every post. Including a very thought-provoking post directed to his agent that discusses the publishing industry today. Why did I read every single post? I get feelings about people. You'd be surprised how often these feelings prove right. Carlos swears I'm a witch of some kind. I just call it instinct. Never ignore your instincts. Sebastian Marshall triggered a gut reaction the moment I started reading his open letter. I thought, "This guy is batshit. I like him."

People who rock the boat intrigue me. I always wonder about their motivation, if there is a motivation, and what type of person they are. By that I mean are they someone who is rocking the boat simply because it's rockable or are they rocking it to force change? I'm a boat-rocker. I don't rock anything I don't feel very strongly about however; so when I see another rocker, I want to know more.

His posts are intelligent and in many cases they're very inspiring. Although, Mr. Marshall, I'd really love it if you could stop writing "anyways." The "s" is not necessary and it makes me screw up my nose and growl every time I see it. Thanks.

His grammar isn't important though. I'm sorry. We're discussing the content of his blog posts. Some of them I disagreed with, some were so far over my head in theme that I'm not sure what I read, others were right on in my opinion. One thing I came away with is that he believes in what he's doing. Strongly. He believes that this industry is changing drastically and that the traditional part of it must also change to survive. He believes that authors (and people in general) need to stand up for themselves and not ass-kiss industry executives and compromise their principles just to get that contract. He believes that if no one stands up, nothing will change. What's wrong with his logic? I don't know, you tell me. I see nothing wrong with it. Sure, he could have gone about things differently. Perhaps he might have been more tactful, more calm and rational in his "rant" but then he would be acting like something he is not. Do we want authenticity or not? Do we want authors to be real or do we believe authors should be a bunch of pussies who never offend a single soul?

I hear authors bitching daily about the publishing industry. I read rants and long moaning posts and articles about how unbelievably hard it is to get an agent and thus access the key to the Big Six and "real" publishing. I hear how many new authors hate the unfairness of the entire setup. Authors moan about pissant royalties that bring you cents per book that have to then be further cut to pay your agent. We cry about how many traditional publishers refuse to publish in digital format or to work with libraries to make said format available to readers. We're frustrated over traditional publishing's refusal to compete with Amazon and the drastic reductions in marketing and promoting offered by publishers. We rant over the way agency models are ethically insane. The list goes on and on and on. Problem is we don't do any of this "publicly."

Well? What are you going to do about it? If you sit and cry into your coffee or on private message boards to other equally weepy writers, will that change things? If you tiptoe around shit to avoid offending anyone who might be useful to you in the future, will you make things better for yourself? How? When? One of the most powerful things Sebastian Marshall says is that "if it ain't happening now, it ain't happening."

He's standing up for his principles, which he lays out very clearly in his blog.

"…life doesn't just give you what you want – you have to go get it. I started being radically honest, radically transparent, and demanded to be treated well by everyone in my life, to the highest possible standard"

 "Once someone breaks their word to you, immediately stand up and call them out. If you solider on after someone breaks their word to you, you're their bitch after that. Don't be anyone's bitch."

Is he crazy? Probably. Maybe that's why he makes sense to me. I don't know. Am I crazy for posting this? Probably. But you all knew I've been dangling on the edge of that for a while.

To be honest, I almost deleted this several times. I wrote the bulk of it last night and fought with myself over whether or not I should post it. I mean, once it's online, that's it right? I can't take it back. I can't say "oh well, you know I was just kidding" and I can't change the opinions of anyone who is pissed at me as a result. I've functioned under the assumption that I will traditionally publish one day for a very long time. I've bit my tongue on many issues (believe it or not) and I've actually avoided topics that I know very few people will like my opinion on because I worried I'd hurt my chances at success. My chances at success? What success? I want to be read. I don't care how I accomplish that. I want to write well, to write fiction that people remember. Swallowing shit doesn't make me a better anything. I've been a bitch to the traditional publishing game.

This morning I scrolled through my list of followers. Does this matter? To me it does because many of the people who follow this blog I count as friends. I can't say that it wouldn't upset me to see one of you "unfollow" because I've offended you. It would. However, as I looked through your names, visited some of your blogs, I realized that I am truly a lucky gal. Most of you I can be certain are not pussies and most of you are achieving your goals without compromising your principles. I admire that and I should have more faith in your ability to handle my opinions with maturity. I think the reason I hesitated is that I lost a few followers after the profanity post (of all things) and that pissed me off. Yesterday I lost about ten followers on Twitter immediately after tweeting a link to Sebastian's blog with a comment that essentially says I support his message. I lost a handful more when I questioned Victoria's comment about blacklisting.

I don't know if the drop in followers is definitely related to those tweets, but the coincidence and the fact that they were all people in the publishing game in some way leads me to believe that the two are probably connected. Those particular Tweeps, well they can suck it. Most of the ones I lost can't find their own asshole without help, so I reckon the mass unfollowing was triggered by whichever was their head Tweep or whatever. That's fine. I can handle it. I wasn't popular in high school either.

The thing is if people really read the posts and read his blog, they'd see that this whole mess is not because Marshall wants to ruin Simon & Schuster. From what I've read, it's not about ruining anyone. His message isn't the poorly thought out result of a manic episode. It's not that he's trying to create a fuss simply to shock people either. This is about change. His message is that this industry is crumbling under the weight of the current changes because it runs on outdated practices and principles, and it won't survive if it can't adapt. Writers make up a large part of the publishing industry. Every one of us can choose to be a part of the problem or the solution, whether we have a publisher or do it ourselves.

If we don't stand up and demand change we don't have the right to bitch about what's happening. It's that simple. You want to see traditional publishers stick around? So do I. You want to be able to go back to the days when new authors with innovative or unusual ideas stood a chance? So do I. You want to see an end to the shit that's on the shelves right now? Then demand it. I am.

What's my message? I thought I'd stopped being a doormat years ago. But for a short period this past couple of years I let myself slip back into that role because I thought one path was the be-all and end-all of success in this industry. I've busted my ass to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion to do all of the things I'm supposed to do to attract the attention of the movers and shakers in this industry and what have I got to show for it? Nothing. I'm still nothing in their eyes. I don't exist.

Maybe your writing isn't very good. It's a damn sight better than Snookie's or anyone who calls himself "The Situation". For fucksakes people, they're willing to publish celebrities who can't write. Publishing today is based on "sure bets" not talent. I'm not okay with that. Are you?

But celebrities have readers, a platform, a fan base. That's why they're offered book deals. But they are NOT writers. They haven't studied the craft of writing and they don't give a shit about the quality. Even their ghost writers ability is questionable. Have you read this shit? Are you telling me that we should all work on fame first in order to publish? What? Now that is nuts.

Upon realizing that I've nearly killed myself doing it their way, almost destroying my love for writing in the process, I said no thanks. I'll make my own path using what I've built so far. It's not good enough for traditional publishing. Fine. It never will be and I realize that. I'm building something that I can be proud of and that requires no ass kissing or shit-swallowing.

My message is that I want to see a publishing industry where the brilliant authors I know and love actually stand a chance at being read. I want to see authors who deserve to be published reaching their goals and watching their books selling like hotcakes. They deserve success. As it stands now, these authors don't have a hope in hell and that's unacceptable to me. You all deserve more that you're getting right now. We deserve more. Small presses (for the most part) see the reality and many of these businesses are making radical changes to adapt and to survive. If they can do it, why not the big guys?

Yes, this is a business and perhaps I'm naïve in thinking anything will change but I refuse to quit without even trying to change things.

Do you want to stand up for your principles or are you happy being someone's bitch?

E-Book Vs. Paperback: Who Cares?

Is this the fate of the paperback? Perhaps. But E-books aren't to blame.






I've got booze for today's little discussion. Don't say "no thanks" just yet, you might find you want it later. Here, Clive will just hold it for you. Me? I'm already hammered, thanks.

Let's begin, shall we?

Will e-books be the death of the paperback? Are those marvelous little stacks of paper going to be a thing only mentioned in history books a decade from now? Will libraries consist of nothing but computers and comfy chairs, getting rid of those glorious rows and rows of shelves and that awesome musty-mystery smell that only libraries have?

I don't care.

Yes, you heard me correctly. I don't care if e-books replace paperbacks. To me it's not really an issue of paperback vs. digital. While I'll miss my paperback (I do so love a real book in my bubbly tubby.) and I'll have difficulty adjusting to an e-reader, I'll still have something to READ. This never-ending debate over which is better or whether the evil e-book has ruined fiction for millions of readers is kind of retarded when you look at the bigger picture.

Let me elaborate on that. (Did you doubt that I would?) According to a great little blog I read from time to time, The Encyclopedia Britannica Blog, (I'm a nerd.) at some point around 2010 40 million Americans read at the lowest literacy level. The lowest.

40. Million.

This blog also cites a study done in 2007 that found the percentage of teens who read nothing for pleasure (as in a never check out great YA novel unless forced to) doubled in the 20 year period before the study.

Why are fewer kids interested in books?



Our first finger points at television and movies. Don't point. It's rude. Besides, it's not TV that's to blame. No really, it's not. I'm an avid TV and film buff, and I still read voraciously. My generation (I'm 34 if you're curious.) is in love with books. Most of my friends love to read. Many will pass up television for a good book. We're not old either. (Unless of course you ask my kids.) We reaped the benefits of the "new" technology of television, the remote control, cable, satellite, on demand, VHS, and eventually DVDs. We are a generation used to the luxury of seeing as story on the screen and a generation that is very addicted to it in many ways. Yet, we still read.

Why? Because as the smart guy writing Britannica's blog said, a visual image is "neither as functional nor as versatile as text." He's right. We read because it allows us to go where we WANT to go in our mind. Television and film show us a story the way some director or producer or whatever sees it. With a book, we can imagine anything we wish.

So stop blaming television.

True, video does play a small role in the demise of basic literacy skills. I'm a freelance writer. This means I write content for various clients online. Some of these clients are content mills, others are news sources, and a couple of them are e-zines. Recently, many freelance writers have noticed a general shift in most (if not all) of these mediums to video supported by text. What does that mean? It means that instead of WRITING  the content, we're being asked to VIDEO the content and add just a few lines of text beneath. Those of us without the ability to do that…see ya later.

This is what prompted me to mull over the demise of books and the written word in general. What the hell are we doing, folks?

Here's the real problem as I see it.



The other day as I waited for my kids to come out of the school (we're not allowed to go inside, but that's another rant for another day) I shot the shit with a couple of other moms. One of them mentioned that her oldest (14) daughter left her a note the other day. She deciphered it after a few minutes and shook her head. Over a period of a few days she realized that her 7 year old had better literacy (as in reading, spelling) skills than her 14 year old. Both girls have excellent grades, but the older child couldn't spell literacy if her life depended on it. She used to be able to, but somehow she'd forgotten. This mom worried that her youngest would eventually write notes for her that she'd need the CIA to decode as well.

This is a sad, sad thing.

And this seemingly senseless trend where shit writing is rewarded (I won't name names) with bestseller status and instant fame, is related to all of this too. Why? Consider you've never read a good writer. Imagine never picking up King, Rowling, Vonnegut, Rice, Palahniuk or Irving. (just a few of my favorites, insert your greats here instead) How would you separate shit from gold? You couldn't. We're so damn happy to see a book in anyone's hands, (particularly kids) that we don't consider WHAT they're reading. Many savvy little entrepreneurs realized this long ago. Hello self-publishing explosion. Hello publishers going for the sure bet rather than the skilled writer. Good bye hard work and good books.

In North America, governments spend billions to teach kids to read. And they fail. These literacy programs are excellent. Teachers dedicate many, many hours to implementing them too. No one in these areas is shirking their responsibility in raising good writers and readers in my opinion. But they're fighting an uphill battle here.



My girls have always been exceptional readers, both spelling and writing very well at early ages. (My oldest could read and write well above grade level in junior kindergarten.)  Are they special? Of course they are, but not because of this. The reason that they picked up those skills is because reading has always been a primary focus in my home. There are books everywhere. I'll buy my kids books any time. It's the only thing that they know they can ask for and receive without much argument from me. They've always seen me with a book in my hand, a book in progress on the table, a book near my bed…books everywhere.



On the other hand, my stepson and a couple of kids I babysit, who are extremely smart kids, struggle to read at their grade level. They can barely spell words that are more than one syllable and they do not pick up a book unless under extreme force. These kids (in my situation anyway) do not come from what we call a "book home". See the trend?

Yet these kids can navigate the shit out of the Internet. They text, tweet, blog—you name it, they can do it. So what's the problem? Are these kids just stupid? Not at all.

My theory is that because they've grown up in this age of amazing technology, where they can have information and entertainment at the click of a button, they've never learned the patience or the focus required to build these literacy skills or to enjoy reading. Think about it. If you are used to punching something into Google, and this is the only way you've researched, and someone hands you a book and says "Find this in there", how agonizing would reading through that book be? I admit, even for a book lover like me, it makes me shudder. I LOVE Google.

But when you have three and four year olds who can text before they can write…

The type of writing necessary for the Internet generation is minimal. "Subliterate" my Britannica friend called it. Emails, texts and tweets require no messing around with proper syntax or spelling. They require no description, no grammar. Only that you convey what you need in as few characters as possible because you've got other things to do.

So at least they're writing and reading something, right? NO! They're reading nothing. They're writing nothing. Go take a little jaunt on a few blogs. Go on. Look at all kinds. E-zines, author blogs, forums, etc. Examine the content of the comments. Hell, look at some of the blog posts.

What do you see in a large percentage of posts? Poor grammar? Misspelled words? Punctuation? Exactly. We don't pay attention to that shit when we're hammering out a comment or two. Some comments are downright unreadable. Yet, the Internet aficionados can decipher it. We debated this in our forum on Goodreads. It's a forum for writers and I stand firmly on my decision as a moderator to hold members of that forum, who are supposed to be writers, to refrain from text-speak and to strive to write proper sentences with at least an effort made to spell the words correctly.

Do u no how meny membrs we hav that right coments like ths

Too many.

This is why I bust my ass to create stories that even the most reluctant reader will enjoy. I know I'm not brilliant. I know I have much to learn. But my goal when I sit down to write is to create a world so vivid, so entertaining, so thought provoking, that the reader who is reading it to pass the time until the UFC TwitChat folks are ready to debate the merits of Griffin's obviously brilliant fighting style vs Martinez's heavy-handed skills (don't ask how I know), is reluctant to put it down. I write to inspire someone else to take a shot at creating something better than I've given them.

It's not about digital vs. paperback. Let's let the big guys battle that out. We'll keep writing no matter what format those words are read in. Technology will push forward no matter how loudly we gripe and bitch about it. But if no one is reading…

Why Do We Do This Writing Thing?

It's easy for a writer to get isolated from what's going on around you. When you spend a good percentage of your time wrapped up in your imaginary places and people, sometimes it's easy to forget that there is a world beyond yourself and your fiction. Actually, it's preferable for me.

However, we can't do that. You've gotta live in order to write something people will want to read. You need to experience life, people and places and you have to be aware of how others are thinking, feeling or reacting to what's going on in the world. Otherwise, how do you write from a point of view that may not reflect your own opinions? You don't? Well, how boring for your readers. But great for you, I suppose.

For these reasons, I try to spend time each day watching the news, watching people, and reading blogs and various articles from all over the Internet. Part of my "surfing" is marketing based and meant to build my author platform and reach out to authors or industry folks that I find interesting or (in the interest of honesty) that might be useful to me.

My reason for writing this post is that I've been asking myself why I write. Aside from the obvious reason: publication, why is it that I write what I do? This has occupied my thoughts morning and night for weeks. As I struggle with letting go of old dreams so that I can forge a new path toward bigger and better dreams, slightly modified to suit today's publishing industry, I can't help but wonder what it is that keeps me going. I mean, honestly folks, this is fucking retarded. The stress, the uncertainty, the shit and abuse that comes our way is becoming quite deep. So why do I keep doing this?

First, I love to entertain. I'm sure some of you might have noticed that. I like the idea that someone might lose themselves in a world I created. I hate that I haven't been able to share those worlds beyond beta readers just yet, but the idea that I might have actual "readers" makes me giddy.

Second, and probably most important, is that I am passionate about it. I need to write. It's not a matter of want, but necessity. I feel...sick if I don't do it.

Last, no matter how silly the story, I also want to tempt my reader to consider something from another point of view. I don't care if the reader agrees, and I don't care if I change their mind. I simply want them to view something they haven't considered before.

This need to broaden someone else's understanding or experience is what sparked the real passion for writing inside me. I didn't really have that passion until I wrote "I Do…And Other Lies We Tell". Before that I was dabbling because I just couldn't help myself. I enjoyed it and I had so many ideas that I couldn't' NOT write them down. When I embarked on writing "I Do," it was like an epiphany. I had to dig really deep to put some of those words down on paper. I'm a blunt person, but this story required not only that I lay it all out, but I do it in such a way that I didn't take sides. I had to let the reader experience it and come to their own conclusions. I couldn't go with cliches either. I had to get inside the characters' heads, both good and bad, to show their actions and their reactions from a place that was real, a place that was believable. Writing took on an intensity and a meaning that it never had for me before and if I thought writing was fun before, well shit, I had no idea.

This is the only novel I've written that had me bawling as I typed. It's the only one that affected me emotionally long after I shut the computer off and left my characters for the day. Why? Because it forced me to touch a place inside of me that most of us like to keep hidden away. It also made me examine the motivation for both good acts, and those that seem so heinous and cruel that we believe they can only come from a place of darkness. To think that society shares the blame in these acts is something we'd rather not face. I Do is not a story for the meek or for the easily offended. It is not a story you can read while lying on a beach somewhere catching some rays. It's (hopefully) a story that makes you reconsider the words "it's none of my business". Of course, it might be 500 pages of crap. I won't know until it's out there with readers.

So, I want to share with you a few scenes from "the novel that sealed my fate" as writer and the novel that taught me that I can write. Before that, I really didn't believe I had any ability. The writing is far different in I Do than it is in most of my other work. I'm not sure if that is because I felt so strongly about its message or because it was such a long and involved story to write, but it is definitely different, IMO. Can you still hear my voice in it? You be the judge.

Excerpt #1

Grandpa patted the bench. "Come on, it's time we got to know each other. Don't be so damn shy."

Hayley shuffled to the bench, a voice in her head screamed at her to get away from him, but she didn't want him mad at her, so she sat as far away from him as the little bench would allow.



"I don't know." Hayley just wanted to be out of the garage. The smell of oil and wood gave her a headache and it was cold.

He slid closer, so that his leg touched hers. "Your mom and dad, they just ignore you. I see you looking at me though, begging me to pay attention to you."

Hayley looked at her hands, watching his wrinkly stained fingers as they moved from her hand to her knee. She stiffened. A funny warmth washed over her. Suddenly she wasn't cold anymore, but still she shivered.

"You want to be my special girl?" He moved his hand up her leg, just above her knee.

Hayley moved away, but he followed.

"I don't know."

"No one else is going to want you or care about you like I will. You're not the prettiest of girls, too fat for that. You have a job in life, all girls do, but I can show you how to be more special than the rest of them." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Hayley wanted to cry, but terrified of angering him, she stayed rooted to the bench.

"You'll be like your mother, all girls are, good for nothing but fucking and babies. Might as well be good at it."

His words hurt, made her chest ache as though he'd hit her. She knew what fucking was. Devon's friends talked about it all the time. She didn't want to do that. It sounded awful.

"Stand up."

Hayley stood, her legs trembling.

"Now, what we do here is our secret. Got it?"

Excerpt #2

"What about your grandfather?" Jane asked. Hayley felt a chill creep over her.

"Grandpa Barry?"

"No, Grandpa—"Jane glanced down at her book. "Warren. What is he like?"

Hayley stared at her hands. Why was she asking about him? "I dunno. He's not really my grandpa so I don't see him a lot."

"No? Amy says you go there every Sunday."

Hayley remembered what her mom said and focused on giving as little as possible away.

"Amy lies. I told you that." If her dad knew…Hayley shivered, she wouldn't hurt her dad by telling anyone about Grandpa Warren.

"Are you ever alone with him?"

"Never." Jane's eyebrow went up and Hayley mentally kicked herself for answering so fast. "I mean, he doesn't like Devon and me, so why would we be alone with him?"

Jane smiled. "I'm sure he loves you both."

A lump formed in Hayley's throat, she wanted to throw up at the thought of Grandpa Warren's 'love'. "No, he doesn't. They only like Amy and Jacob. Me and Devon aren't their real grand kids. They told us so."

Jane frowned, a little wrinkle creasing her otherwise smooth brow. She looked different when she frowned, the warmth in her eyes vanished. Hayley felt a smile tickle the corners of her mouth. She didn't like that. It must not fit with what she wanted Hayley to say.

"Why do you think Amy would do this? Why would she tell me that people hurt her when they didn't?"

Hayley shrugged. "I dunno. Probably because she got in big trouble and Daddy was going to find out and she hates my mom."

"I don't think she hates your mom, she's a confused little girl."

Hayley snorted. "She's not confused about anything. She's evil. She only cares about herself."

Jane shifted her notebook and flipped through the pages. "I think we've gotten off topic here. I need to make sure you'll be safe, and that's why I need you to be as honest with me as possible, no matter how much you want to protect your parents. Do you understand that?"



"Yeah, and I'm telling you the truth." Her tummy felt hot and she wanted to scream at this woman to make her stop asking these questions.

"Okay, but can you promise me something?"

"Sure," Anything to get out of this chair, Hayley just wanted to go home.

"If you think of anything, or you remember something that may have happened that would be important, you tell your principal and he'll call me."

Hayley stood. "I won't. I've told you everything. Can I go now?"

Jane's eyes looked sad, as though she felt sorry for Hayley. She could keep her pity. Hayley didn't need it. A whisper fluttered through her brain that said Amy might have told them about Grandpa Warren. Part of her was angry that he'd lied about her being special, another part, a bigger part, was relieved at the possibility she wasn't alone. She didn't feel so bad knowing she wasn't the only one who let him do those things.

Is that why Jane asked these questions? Did Amy say Grandpa Warren touched her? Was she lying about that too or did he really do it? They won't believe Amy now, because she lied so much, but they might believe Hayley. Her chest tightened, the urge to tell Jane everything burned inside her but her mother's voice echoed in her head. She couldn't do it.

Excerpt #3 (the last, I promise)

 "You've been drinking enough."

"So it's okay if your dad does it but not me?"

"It's not okay for either of you. I hate it, and I hate how you two act. How's your hearing, Mom? Which side is it? Still not better?"

Dana's face reddened, and her hands trembled. "That was an accident. You don't know what happened between us or why; you've had nothing to worry about in your whole life, Hayley. Don't judge what you can't possibly understand."



"Nothing to worry about? Are you kidding me?"

For the first time in her life, Hayley's temper turned to her mother. She stood. Her body shook, and tears sprung to her eyes. Hayley wanted to shake her, to make her see what everyone else saw. They were a laughing stock. She hated how people whispered about her parents, about Amy.



"Mom, all my life I've seen you happy like, what, two maybe three times? You're always stressed out, you're always banged up and you never ever see the good in anything. How do you think that affects me?"

"Hayley, I'm happy."

"Bullshit. What happens when he finally kills you, Mom? What happens to us? Don't you think we know how bad it gets? We can hear you. Every time we've heard you guys. He's got a problem, and so do you. I'm sick and tired of seeing you sick and tired. Don't you want more than this? Don't you want to feel good?"

Dana stared.

Hayley waited for her to speak, cringing at the stricken look on her mother's face. Why couldn't she just shut her mouth?

"You must hate me," Dana finally whispered. "I didn't think about you guys that way. I thought I was doing what was best for you. God, I don't even know what to think anymore."

Hayley sat on the chair closest to her. "Jesus, Mom, I don't hate you. Why would I hate you? I just don't understand how a person can live their life like this. Why do you let everyone hurt you?"

"I don't let them."

"You do. Dad, your family, everyone. People whisper about you guys, they say things right in front of you and you do nothing."

"What do you want me to do? Punch them? That's not a solution. Better to ignore them. They might lose interest."

"No, it's better to defend yourself, to tell them you won't put up with it." Hayley drew lines on the table with her finger, frustrated, tired, and sorry she ever said a word.

"You're wasting away. I don't know why. What's food got to do with any of this? Do you think if you disappear then they'll leave you alone?"

"No, that's ridiculous."

Dana shook her head and turned away. She picked up a plate from the dish rack and put it in the cupboard above. The hinge was loose and when she closed the door it hung open just a little. "I don't know why I do it. Sometimes it's not about what you want or what you need, not when you want to have a family. I can't explain it so you'd understand. I just want everyone to be happy, and you'll see when you find someone who loves you that it's not always black and white. I can't change who I am, even if it's pathetic. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Mom. You're always sorry."



##

And this is Suzy Sunshine, signing off.  

Remember When Writing Was Fun?

Okay, I'm going with something light today that requires little thought, because we've all had enough doom and gloom. Let's take a break from the nightmare that is today's publishing industry and I'll tell you a story.



Sit down, grab a blanket, snuggle up close to the fire Clive's got blazing over there. We've got hot chocolate too. The "special" stuff is in the red thermos and the regular, non-alcoholic stuff is in the blue.



Ready? Good. So my youngest has been writing songs and stories forever. Recently every time her best friend comes over to play, she persuades her to write a story or act out a play she's written. It's priceless. This morning I opened my laptop to find their latest work, which they've submitted to Mom's Publishing Company. I couldn't resist sharing it. She'll kill me later but it's worth making you all smile.



Here is it, unedited and completely original.



Lola and Destiny's Jorny

by K.P. and J.E.



Once opan a time there were 2 girls tht were bffs they went for a walks and they found a portal and they were walking some more and they found a dog it was a girl dog named sparkle and they were walking and they went in to a store they bot beds for there 3 brothers and 4 sisters and they bot a bed for the dog and we bot a morior we are going to rent an apartmunt and they got free beds at the ampartmunt there were water beds we got to keep them for our lives.



We walked around town and we met 2 cute boys ones name is Dalton. Dalton is Lolas boyfriend Destinys boyfriend is Michale



The End



This took me back to when I was Ken's age (7) and I used to scribble away for hours. I'd get carried away in my own head, imagining all the directions a story could go. I'd imagine these grand places, usually somewhere back in time, with elves and witches and Prince Charmings...sigh.



I needed this today. I used to at least try to pound out short fiction daily. Even if it was crap, the point was just to have fun, piss around. Exercise my imagination. I'd spend ten minutes, an hour, two hours; didn't matter. Just that I had fun doing it. Often these daily games turned into something more, fleshing out a vague idea into a novel.



This little story, with it's almost total lack of punctuation and simplistic plot that went nowhere made me smile. It reminded me why I write. Publication? Yeah, I want it. Does it matter how? No. I want to write. I want to be read. I want it to be fun again. Just for a little while. Thanks to Ken and her friend, I've got my wish if only for a short time.



What do you do to make writing fun? Or is fun the right word? How do you keep that spark alive? You know, the one that giggles maniacally at the idea of a solid day to yourself spent creating.



I challenge all of you to write for fun today. I don't care what you write. Just do it. Something that makes you giggle maniacally. Then, share it. Let me know if you share online. I want to giggle with you.

I Like Sex. Get Used to It.

I'm experiencing the review-syndrome. You know when you put a book out there and you get really great reviews, really bad reviews and some scratch your head reviews and you try not to take them personally and be all philosophical about it but really, you're dying to claw someone's eyes out because they just don't get it, but you know you can't because that would be unprofessional and reputation-ruining so you just sit at home, pulling up those reviews again and again and again…right? You know that syndrome, right? It's not just me? Cool.

We've been very lucky so far to have received some really awesome reviews of the Writer'sCompanion. I'm not talking about the star ratings, because to me they're meaningless in most cases. I like to read what readers have written. This is where you learn the real dirt. Almost all have been detailed and honest, pointing to both what the reader did like and didn't like and I have to say, in most cases, I've been pleased and agreed with all that was said.

Yesterday though, I read this review of the companion, accompanied by a 4 star rating:

This ain't a book - it's a tome!



An extremely useful tome. :)



Have not read this cover to cover (mainly because some topics I'm not yet ready for), but it does live up to its promise of being THE go-to reference for Writing.



This is great, isn't it? Well, turns out that this review had a "but"…

(One slight point - IMHO, the examples written by co-author Renee Miller contain too much sex, and not only her examples, but other statements in here. Nothing is too racy or salacious - and I am no prude - but I honestly think this book could be improved by a "G" rating instead of "R/NC-17". It's for this reason alone that I'm knocking off a star - and this is just MHO.)



Now, I'm going to do what every author/agent/publisher advises authors to avoid doing. I'm going to pick apart a review on my book. Why? There are several things that can be learned here. I learned a few things and so can you.

But first, can I just say that I never imagined getting such a comment based on a handful of excerpts of my work? Can I say that? I hoped to get such "this woman is dirty and salacious" comments over the content of an entire novel—not a few lines here and there. I should add though, that I looked up the word salacious just so I could define it accurately here, and I have to say that "arousing or appealing to sexual desire or imagination : lascivious" and "lecherous, lustful" sounds about right. Not when describing the content of the Companion, but when describing me. So, she isn't totally off the mark.

Second, the Companion is not and was never written with the intent that it be placed in the hands of a child. It is written for writers, serious adult writers who want to improve their craft. Is it possible some of those writers might not be adults? Sure. But the content, including the excerpts, is no more racy or salacious than most YA fiction out there.

I'm not angry about this review, so I don't want anyone to think I'm about to attack a reviewer. No, I'll save such things for assholes and idiots. This woman is neither of those things. But her review brought me back to a pet peeve of mine. Her last comment was kind of like getting kissed and then backhanded for your trouble, and it reminded me of how subjective reading really is, and that reviews are simply opinions. Nothing more.

Let's begin by examining just what an "R" and "NC-17" rating means, shall we? These are not ratings typically used in publishing (to my knowledge) but rather in film or television. But I get what she's saying, sort of. She's linking those ratings to the level of nasty in my examples. Why is she wrong? I'll tell you why.

R ratings imply that the work in question contains some adult material which includes adult themes, activity, language, intense violence, nudity, drug or alcohol abuse or other elements generally considered to be inappropriate for a child under the age of 17. However, children aren't "banned" from R movies. They simply require adult accompaniment. But most parents are not going to bring their kids to an R-rated movie or let them watch an R-rated television show. NC-17 on the other hand contains these elements and other adult content that is completely and totally too adult for anyone under 17. You go to a theater and try to accompany your kid into an NC-17 movie and they're going to kick your ass back out. No children admitted. Period. The two are different ratings and honestly, do not apply to the Companion. I'll give you PG. Definitely. Not R or NC-17.



Okay, we've got that out of the way. The Companion contains no explicit sex, violence, language or depictions of drug abuse or any other kind of adult situational shit. Carlos barely let me have any profanity at all. (I did slip one or four in there when he was experiencing a weak moment.) There are some aberrant behaviors described but we keep sexual references to a very subtle level. Okay, so the purple prose section is somewhat racy, but to lay that content at my feet alone?

There is this example we used to show readers what might be too purple:

He dragged her roughly against his rock-hard body. She felt his manroot pressed against the soft recess of her secret place.

"What did you say?" he queried, raising a chocolate brown brow.

"I said I hate you." She spat, bravely attempting to extract herself from his impossibly powerful grasp.

His gaze, now an azure blue, meandered down to the porcelain skin of her heaving bosom. Tears stung her eyes as she endured his loathsome scrutiny. Vile; he was the most vile, obstinate, arrogant creature she'd ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on.

"No you don't hate me at all." His generous lips curved into a derisive grin. "You want me, and you despise yourself for that fact."

But it's not attributed to me or Carlos. Just an example. Readers don't know who wrote that section and we don't use examples from my work there…so I'm not sure how I'm the racy one. (I did write that particular example, by the way. Maybe this reader is psychic. Creepy.)

I think this is as "racy" as it gets in the examples attributed to me:

Each time their eyes met, the naked hunger in his gaze made her want to climb over the bar and drag him off somewhere private. Hell, she'd have probably settled for the alley outside. She'd lived long enough in denial and she couldn't fight anymore. Why would any sane woman fight Wade anyway?

Leaning over the top of the computer, Kristina traced a finger across the python tattoo that coiled around his right arm.

He shook his head. "You're asking for trouble, little girl."

I guess whoever finds the Companion to be a lewd little books full of sex and raciness should not ever, under any circumstances, NEVER read anything I've written. Nothing. It'll just offend and shock you and you'll be forced to describe that horrific experience in a review.

Okay, so I guess this review did irritate me, but not because she considers the book too adult for kids. I don't really care about that. We didn't write the Companion for children.

What irks me is that I was singled out as the dirty mind in this venture. I'll have you know Carlos is much more creative in the dirty department than I am. He's as salacious as they come and you know, I think you'd be surprised to know which racy content is actually his. I also don't like that some people reading that review may believe that it's just a book full of porn or a poorly disguised reference manual on the art of intercourse. Boy, won't they be disappointed when they race out to buy it.



This is a good lesson though, both as a reader and a writer. Don't put too much weight in a reviewer's words. If you obsess over one person's opinion, you'll drive yourself bonkers. If they're critiquing writing ability or plot, sure I think most often the reviewer hits it on the head and writers should take notice. If they're raving about the book saying it was "unbelievably awesome" or something along those lines, you have to be a little wary. It's likely to disappoint if other readers if they go into the book expecting the same wow factor. Maybe it is awesome in terms of plot, but others might find the writing mediocre or the characterization flat. (Yes, it is possible someone will find your writing mediocre and flat. I've admitted it, so should you.)

On the other hand, when a reviewer rants about the awfulness or the explicit content of the book in such vague terms, you have to take that ranting with a grain of salt. I've noticed that many reviewers who prefer "clean" fiction or "Christian" fiction, for some strange, masochistic reason like to pick up general adult fiction and then act all scandalized when it contains profanity, violence or sex. It's adult fiction, folks. What the hell do you expect it to contain? Characters that shit unicorns and butterflies or relationships that involve holding hands and sharing good old fashioned pecks on the cheek after church? Please.



Before I go, I want to add that the rating is not in any way annoying to me. She gave us 4 stars despite the nasty unnecessary sexual content I put in there. That's great. But honestly, we've received a 3 star review that I was more proud of. The reviewer conceded that she hadn't read it cover to cover, but she also pointed out what she gained from the parts she did read and that's all I hoped for in writing this book with Carlos. I wanted writers to find something valuable inside. Every writer loves the 5 star reviews, I'm no exception, but now and then, take a look at the lower ratings. See what the reviewer is actually saying. Don't get all caught up in the numbers. We're writers. Read the white space. This is where we learn to become great writers.



And I am not a pervert. I just play one in my books.

Living on the Edge...which is more interesting than titling this as "My Week"

Angry Owl.
Hello, you beautiful people. How's shit? Good? Good. Me? Well, you know. Meh.

This weekend I've had work plagiarized and I made cookies. Here, try one. They're Granny's recipe. My favorite. Chocolate macaroons. Mmmm. Clive's made some margaritas too. Oh, you must take one. He pouts when you don't. Now, let's talk about my week.

Ever seen those article directories that advertise "read articles for free"? Yeah, don't read the articles there. In most cases, these directories steal articles from sites where authors rely on people going to the original site for income. They work like adsense, where their income depends on how many times someone reads their articles. I'm one of those authors. A site called Swebit, which I really hope is removed from existence soon (we've contacted Google and many of the plagiarized authors have taken further steps) appears to be using some type of feed to upload articles from sites like Suite101 and other content sites. If the site doesn't direct you to the site that actually owns the article, it's a fucking asshole site that is stealing the hard work of others.

With Panda being a giant pain in a freelancer's ass, this is particularly annoying. Google now rates content sites as "low quality" so these articles rarely float to the top of a Google search. Yet, this site, which contains only "content mill" articles, shows before the original sites (which actually own the content and published it first) in a Google search. Explain this to me you big fat annoying Panda people.

Anyway, that was only one annoyance. Four of my articles (that I know of) swiped by people who don't seem to have even a basic grasp of how to write anything. Lovely.

Plagiarism, I'm told, should be seen as a form of flattery. No. It's not flattery. They aren't stealing my work because it's super awesome (Although it is I tell you, it is!). They're stealing it because they're too damn lazy to write something themselves. Period. Just leave my shit alone. I don't' need flattery. Thanks.

In other, more interesting and not so angry news, I've submitted Dirty Truths to Harlequin's "So you think you can write" contest. No, it'll never win because it's not the typical romance. I know not all romance is formulaic. Don't get your panties in a bunch. But as a Harlequin reader of old (my mom still reads them and I take a gander now and then to see if anything's changed—it hasn't) I know that they like their stories to fit a certain formula. My idea of romance doesn't fit that. I'm not sure why I submitted it. Just seemed like I should. I had one of those "feelings" and when I ignore those, I always regret it. I'm sure they'll be like "Well, sure she can write, but this is horrifying and wrong. It hurts our romantic hearts! This character divorces her husband, sleeps with a married man (and oh, that scene in the bar is downright…) and then she tries to help a murderer get off (in more ways than one)? And this Thomas is really a dangerous man. He needs to be locked up, but she makes him…likeable. The rules of happily ever after have been broken left and right here."

True, but it's all in the name of love. If Harlequin had any balls, they'd totally publish it because this is the romance we all wish we could live…except for the psycho ex-husband part…and maybe the severed finger would make me reconsider. I'd totally buy it.

While I wait for Harlequin to say "no thanks" I'm editing False Prophet—okay, I'm thinking about editing it. I keep pulling it up, reading where I left off and then I set it aside to do other work. But I will edit. Then, I'll send it on to beta readers. Really. I must. Then there's this paranormal-erotic-weird-humor-thing WIP that I've almost finished. The ending is not sitting right with me. I haven't written it entirely because I feel like it's…blech. And you know what? I think this for every damn novel I've written. I always hate the ending. It takes me twice as long to write the final two chapters as it does to write the entire novel. Why is that? I don't know.

Last, I'm toying with a new outline. Yes, I've got a file full of shit I've outlined and should start working on, but this idea is just nagging at me relentlessly. Time travel. I know it's been done but I think I could write something awesome. (Don't we all?)

I've always secretly loved time-travel stories in any genre. The idea that one could go back in time, knowing what we know now is just…awesome. Also, I'd love a hero from another time period. I don't care that showers, toilet paper, and good soap might not have been invented. I like the dirty boys…unless they have lice. Did they have lice? Was that a common problem? Did people even realize that those bugs were a bad thing? Ew. No lice.

Anyway, the question is how do I do it? No time machine. That makes me cringe. I'm thinking magic. But what kind of magic? Research. I know. I hate research but it seems to like me very much. If any of you has an idea…

In case you're wondering, yes I'm out of my funk. Screw the querying. I'm done with it. I'll submit to small publishers that feel are right, but I'm quite disheartened by agents at the moment. I've discovered another one that has opted to go with the "agents as publishers" model, only this one has opted to forget the royalty and just charge fees for everything. Makes me nauseous and pissed off. Whatever. They must do what they must do to survive in this insane industry and I guess some feel that jumping on the self-publishing bandwagon and milking it for all it's worth is the way to go. Me? I think there are other options, but what do I know.

I'm moving on. Bigger and better.

The Writer's Companion is chugging along and we've gotten great reviews so far. I no longer feel nauseous mentioning it to people because I finally believe it is good. (I had this crazy oh-my-god-who-do-we-think-we-are-people-will-hate-it moment in time but that's over now) Carlos and I worked damn hard to produce a book that would be useful and that would help improve any writer's skills and I'm proud of that work. Now, if you could get this crazy Spaniard to stop with the damn ideas that I can't resist agreeing to, that would be great. Thanks.

I have other projects keeping me firmly in Loony Land for the foreseeable future, so I'm sure opportunity will show up soon enough. What kind of opportunity? The fun is in not knowing.

And you all? What's your week been like?

Chasing Rainbows

First, I've lost some followers. Hmmm. Was it the NaNo thing? Oh come on. Oh well, more booze for the rest of us.



Well, the last (at least I hope it's the last) of my rejections came creeping into my inbox last week. It was unexpected, because I assumed that after the months of no reply, I'd been rejected anyway. And it was the best and worst rejection I've received yet. Best because it was very personalized and they took the time to tell me exactly what they didn't like, proving that they did read at least part of the manuscript. And worst because they described the manuscript as "little more than a detailed synopsis". Ouch. It hurts just writing that.

Do I agree with what they said? In part. Most of what they didn't like about it is subjective and I can shrug and say, "Whatever." The bit about detailed synopsis, well…I had to take another look to decide. The conversation in my head went something like this:



-The first chapter stinks.

-Yes it does.

-Worse than Kurt after hockey and wing night at the Fare and Foul.

-But the second chapter is good. Why not start there?

-Because the first chapter is necessary for the second and third…isn't it? Well it sets the tone.

-Damn it, Renee. You don't need to set the tone. It should be present from the first lines. What the hell were you thinking? Make it work without the first chapter.

-But I like the first chapter. It's good.

-But it contains neither of the protagonists. Why bother? It begins with a character that dies. What is that about?

-I don't know.

-Of course you don't. Fuck, you make my brain hurt.

-Wanna get some chips or something?

-Yeah. I'm done with this shit.

-I think we've got cookies too.

-Yeah? Chocolate chip?

-Oreos.

-Oreos are gross.

-You're an ass.

-So are you.

And then it happened. That psycho bitch that lurks in the deepest, darkest part of my brain found her opening.

You suck. The manuscript sucks. Why did you even send this out? Hell, everything you've written is boring as shit. You're not special. You're never going to publish unless you do it yourself. You've been lying to yourself this entire time. This "author" dream is a fucking joke. You could be out working and making a decent living instead of chasing rainbows or saving pennies for a stupid editor so you can do it yourself. God, you'll never learn will you? Just keep on trying to achieve the impossible.

Yeah, that bitch. I had a day or two of what you could call utter depression and then the real me, the one who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to step on/crush anyone to get it, came out to play.

First, the manuscript can use some work. Manuscripts can ALWAYS use more work. That's not something that should shock me. Second, I am an author. I've published short fiction, over 1000 articles (that someone else paid me for), and that little book Carlos and I wrote, which is doing well so far. Just because I haven't achieved my primary goal does not mean that I suck, it means I haven't been chasing the right rainbows.

The rejection still stings and I'll probably wince every time I read it. Oh yes, I'm keeping this one. As I said, it's the best and worst I've gotten so it should be framed so that on the day I achieve my goal, I can burn the fucker right on top of the rest of them.

What to do now? I've been thinking over this whole "traditional" publishing goal. Why do I want it so much? What's wrong with self-publishing? Do I have a choice?

I do.

I will not self-publish my fiction just yet. But I am giving up on the agent search. I don't feel that with the way the industry is at this moment I'll be able to find an agent no matter how kickass my writing is. (And I'm not saying it is kickass, but it doesn't suck either.) Also, I don't think I need one at this time. True, an agent is the key to getting the big publishers' attention, but what can I do with that right now?

Instead, I'm looking at small presses while I research this new growth in self-publishing. My mistake for a very long time was in thinking a "real" contract meant print and possibly digital. Obviously that's just a retarded way to think. I haven't even scratched the surface of what's available to new authors in the e-publishing industry. And what an opportunity wasted.

A very good friend recently reminded me that I have been focusing on the wrong things. (Thanks, Katrina.) In my head it's been agent, publisher, book, agent, publisher, book. No deterring from that path. I've sent out about 300 queries. 300. Three-zero-zero. Do you know how much damage that many rejections can do to an ego? It can crush your soul to pathetic bits of nothing. (And I have a pretty healthy ego most of the time.) Never once did I consider that maybe my approach was wrong or maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the right path to take. I was adamant that I NEEDED an agent. But again I come back to the question; Do I?

When I make plans, goals, etc., I tend to forget to adjust them now and then. I mean, nothing stays the same, right? It stands to reason that occasionally, you should look at said plans and change them accordingly. Duh. This industry has changed drastically in the past few years. Sure, when I started writing, my plan made sense. Now? As a "new author" I can't succeed with this approach. Not before I reach 40 anyway. Hell, who am I kidding? I'll be in diapers and putting my teeth in a damn jar on the nightstand before it happens with the path I've been on.

My biggest weakness is my impatience. I want what I want and I want it NOW. This process has been really hard because of that. It's been several years since I "decided" that I wanted to publish my writing; years that I've wondered many times if that was the right decision.

It was and it is.

You all have inspired me in different ways. Some of you I know well, have inspired me personally, others I know just by the comments you make here on The Edge, but you've inspired me through those comments and what I read on your blogs. So I'll ask you and I really want to know what you think: After two years of hammering on agents' doors and trying to publish traditionally, am I crazy for giving up that dream? Or do you agree that there comes a time when something just isn't working anymore and you have to abandon it?