Laura Roberts's Blog, page 76

Horny Hump Day

Happy Horny Hump Day!

This week’s 3-sentence snippet is from my book 69 Sexy Haiku, which is now available as an audiobook narrated by Mike Paine:

Panting for more? Grab a copy of 69 Sexy Haiku from your favorite bookseller to find out what happens next — and stay tuned for next week’s Horny Hump Day!

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L’Air de Panache: Signature scents for fictional characters

Describing scents can be a tricky business. Though I love certain smells – including freshly cut grass, baking bread, and old books, to name a few – it can often be hard to explain what those things really smell like when you’re trying to set the mood.

Last night I was watching The Grand Budapest Hotel, and thinking about Gustave H.‘s signature scent, L’Air de Panache. What does this cologne really smell like? It’s described as a strong smell, one that lingers, and many of the hotel’s guests are seen sniffing after the famed concierge glides past. The bottle also reads “pure musk,” which suggests something earthy, masculine, animalistic.

Oddly enough, Wes Anderson had this fictional cologne made into a real scent, courtesy of the French parfumerie Nose (though it seems they have run out of the limited edition already). The English description is quite comical:

“A tonic and lively Eau de Cologne sublimated in head notes by aldehyde which adore his most dear customers, and supplemented with a touch of intrigue symbolized by the green apple. A heart of Jasmine Sambac flower, Grasse’s flower, and rose sweared by the most refined dandies. To finally discover the ‘Panache’ of Mr. Gustave H., a return to the wild forest and animalic and greedy notes. I love you!”

The Nose website lists L’Air de Panache as belonging to the woody and citrus families, both of which I enjoy. My only real concern is with the base note of patchouli. Hippie stank, no thanks.

So now this whole thing has got me pondering a signature scent for my Parisian PI, Venus Delmar. She’s a classy dame, after all, and Parisian women are known for their style. What would be a good match for a woman who’s got a Glock 36 stashed in her garter, but needs to remain in the shadows as she stalks her prey?

On second thought, Venus probably just scrubs with a nice French milled soap and keeps it simple, sweetheart.

Have you ever chosen a signature scent for any of your fictional characters? How did you decide?

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Phoning it in for Father’s Day

Yesterday was Father’s Day, so I called my dad to say hi and see what he was up to. Of course, I completely forgot that my parents’ phone line has been out since last week, so no one picked up!

“Hello? Hello? Anybody home?!”

This is actually a recurring problem on their farm, as the phone company apparently doesn’t bother to bury their telephone cables at a proper depth. Given the fact that much of the cable seems to be buried beneath the gravel driveway that leads from the nearest main road up to their house, and given that gravel easily washes away during heavy rainstorms (or simply from regular use), the cable is frequently exposed, leaving it at the mercy of random farm equipment.

Basically what I’m trying to say is, every few months, the phone lines get cut accidentally at my parent’s house, which is kind of a pain in the ass. Especially since it’s their business as well as home phone.

Personally, I would be wigging out on the phone company to either bury the cable properly or just string the damn things up on poles already, since the problem is turning into a fairly clockwork farce at this point.

The thing I really don’t understand about the whole situation is that my parents recently authorized the phone company to construct an enormous cell phone tower on their property, yet customer service remains dismal. Wouldn’t you think that if you did the phone company such a huge favor, they’d at least have the courtesy to make sure your phone was always in service?

Before I realized that the phone was still out, however, I thought my dad must be on the line trawling eBay for some kind of mechanical bits and pieces. You see, one of his favorite hobbies is purchasing used cars, trucks, motorcycles and assorted parts from their auto section in order to drive my mother crazy. He once purchased a truck with a cherry-picker basket from someone in another state, and went to pick it up in person. The windshield was missing, however, so he decided to don a welder’s mask in order to protect his face while driving the truck home.

A passing state trooper was not particularly impressed with my dad’s total disregard for the lack of standard windscreen, but I still think it was a pretty ingenious move. I’m pretty sure the ticket cost less than towing the truck home, too!

Thankfully, my parents have finally escaped dial-up hell and don’t have to rely on their phone line to access the Internet anymore, so my mom was able to inform me, via Facebook, that the phone was out and that she and my dad (plus my sister and her husband) were going out to dinner for Mexican food after a day spent baling hay.

Ah, the wonders of technology.

Anyway, I hope you all had a pleasant Father’s Day weekend, whether you chose to spend it with your family or not. As for me, I spent my Sunday doing twice the amount of work I thought I was supposed to be doing, so in the spirit of balance, I’ve decided to take Monday off to work on my novel. Stay tuned for another installment of The Case of the Cunning Linguist, coming soon!

Now tell me: What’s the funniest thing your dad has ever done?

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Throwback Thursday: I was Lisa Simpson

Inspired by my previous post about BFFs and the novel Your Perfect Life, I thought I’d share a little “Throwback Thursday” story about some of the co-authoring my BFF, Jenna, and I did back in junior high.

Jenna and I were considered “gifted and talented” students, at least in the realm of Language Arts (known to most adults as “English Literature”), so we were placed in the more advanced track along with our small group of fellow nerdlingers. Much like Lisa Simpson’s A+++ pulling up the score of her entire elementary school in “Lisa Gets an A,” we were viewed as the magical unicorns tasked with keeping the district funded and therefore stocked with such dispensibles as Home Ec, Industrial Design, and even the Band and Orchestra (yes, we had both!).

Shamelessly reappropriated from “The Lisa Simpson Book Club”

As a result of our geekitude, we had an encouraging teacher who frequently allowed us to draft some totally absurd stories and present them to the class as video projects, rather than turning in traditional essays. Many of these videos were modernizations of classic tales, including a particularly hilarious take on Steinbeck’s impressively depressing novella The Pearl.

I’m not sure why, but I swear I read this book at least three different times throughout my educational career. It seemed to be a favorite in our middle-to-upper-class school district, perhaps because it’s about the negative results of coming into wealth. Yet we were never assigned any other Steinbeck books, such as his Pulitzer Prize-winning The Grapes of Wrath, or even the drama crowd-pleaser Of Mice and Men, which I find perplexing.

Anyway, in our “updated” version of The Pearl, instead of capturing the largest pearl ever spit up by an oyster, our downtrodden family discovers a magical genie lamp in a junk shop, and receives three wishes. Naturally, they wish for a huge lump sum of cash, to immediately end their monetary difficulties, but the byproduct of the wish is that the IRS shows up on their doorstep demanding more than half of it in taxes. A pretty cutting economic commentary for a bunch of 13-year-olds, no?

Things quickly spiral out of control for the family, with a similarly unhappy ending (no spoilers, in case YOU haven’t read this thing three times by now), but the real kicker was my inexplicable cameo as The Terminator, in which I wear aviator sunglasses and hold a Super Soaker, intoning “Ahhhhh’ll be bahhhk!”

Eat your heart out, Schwarzenegger.

Despite what you’re probably thinking, this wasn’t even our craziest book-to-video adaptation. No, that credit goes to our take on the mythological musical battle between Greek god (and lyre enthusiast) Apollo and flute-playing Pan. Just picture a tinfoil lyre, represented by the strains of a Casio keyboard; two girls in bedsheet togas (one of which may or may not have been a printed sheet with Smurfs on it); my beginner flute-playing skills; and a dirty-blonde pageboy wig thenceforth dubbed “the Apollo wig” for use in all future productions, and you’ll get the gist.

In addition to our cracked modernizations of classic tales, we also penned a few original stories, including “1, 2, 3, GO!” — the story of a girl who grows to loathe this ubiquitous phrase and demands that her parents and teachers replace it with something else, only to discover she misses it once it’s gone. Awww.

Obviously, these are juvenilia probably better left in the attic to gather dust, but I still think my BFF and I could come up with a pretty awesome book if we thought about it. After all, we grew up in the 80s and have watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Clue about 9,000 times apiece, two films that’ll teach you just about everything you need to know about successful screenwriting. Surely something good must come of that?

I love The Lisa Simpson Book Club

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Horny Hump Day: Fucking Anais Nin

Happy Horny Hump Day!

I’ve joined a weekly blog hop for authors that post 3 saucy sentences each Wednesday. Simple, straightforward, sexy. So without further ado, here are 3 steamy sentences from my short story “Open Letters to Famous Writers” (featured in the Book Lovers anthology):

You did take my breath away, with stories that had me touching myself the way I pictured one day touching you, as your dirty words splashed from your painted lips. You were my first contract come, Anaïs. And you’ll always be the best, even now that I’ve got a stable full of talent to trot out every night.

Panting for more? Grab a copy of Book Lovers from your favorite bookseller to find out what happens next — and stay tuned for next week’s Horny Hump Day!

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Of BFFs and “Your Perfect Life”

Wow! Last night I attended an online interview with the two authors of the debut novel Your Perfect Life, Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke. This is the second author interview I’ve virtually attended, courtesy of Booktalk Nation, and I have to say it was quite inspiring.

Co-authors Liz and Lisa are childhood friends, just like the main characters of their book, Casey and Rachel. The basic premise of the book is that after attending their 20th high school reunion, these two BFFs wake up having physically traded places just like in all those awesome teen movies like Freaky Friday, 18 Again! and 13 Going on 30.

Seriously, is this book screaming “summer reading” or what?

I really enjoyed finding out how these two ladies worked together as writers (they each took one character, using a dual narrator setup, but ultimately admitted that since they’ve been friends for so long, they’re “the same person”), and I even got a chance to ask them what their favorite “trading places” movies were. (Freaky Friday rules supreme, although they differed on whether they preferred the Jodie Foster original or the Li-Lo remake.)

After getting to know a little bit more about these native San Diegan co-authors and their book, I decided to jump in and purchase a signed copy. I asked them to dedicate it to “Jenna & Laura — BFFs,” given the subject matter, and hope to share the book with my own childhood pal once I finish reading it.

Now the only question left is, how do I get my BFF to co-author a novel with me?

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Beat that case of the Mondays with “Aux Champs-Elysées”

Drinking my coffee this morning, I’ve got Paris on the brain. That’s a good thing, given that my WIP is set in the City of Lights!

Here’s my Paris mug, keeping the caffeine flowing:

And this is the song currently playing in my head:

Not too shabby for a Monday. What city would you like to be transported to today?

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Josephine Baker and the saucy postcard story giveaway

As a writer and stationery addict, I’m always looking for new ways to satisfy my lust for snail mail. So, naturally, I joined Postcrossing — a global postcard exchange site — a couple of years ago. It’s a pretty addictive hobby, and a simple one, too: you request an address, and then send that member a postcard. In return, you receive another postcard from a totally different member. You register your cards, based on codes given along with the member’s address, and get to keep track of all the countries you’ve sent cards to and received cards from. You can also upload images of the cards, favorite the ones you like best, and the more postcards you send, the more you get.

Neat, right?

Recently I received a super cool postcard from a fellow erotica author in the Czech Republic:

Josephine Baker postcard from the Czech Republic

Interestingly enough, this is my second Josephine Baker postcard, although it’s the first one I’ve received through Postcrossing. The first was sent by a friend of mine from Facebook, Brian S. Roe. Here’s the card he sent:

These two hot postcards combined have given me an idea: sexy postcard stories written on actual postcards and mailed around the world!

So, here’s the idea:

Anyone who wants a sexy postcard story gets one.
All of the stories will be spicy, but not dirty enough to get you into trouble with your significant other, boss, co-workers or the postal service’s indecency laws. (Think innuendo, not graphic displays.)
All postcards will be handwritten by me and sent to the mailing address of your choice. (Offer valid globally, wherever you can receive a postcard from the US. So, probably not North Korea. Sorry, Kim Jong-un!)
Offer of one free postcard story good until my postcard supplies run out (or December 31, 2014 — whichever comes first)

Want to receive a postcard? Just say so in the comments below. I’ll use the email address you specify in order to get in touch with you privately, so you don’t have to post your home address on the internet for all the world to see. Then, all you’ve got to do is sit back and watch your mailbox.

Sound like fun? Let’s play!

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Racing the Eiffel Tower

I haven’t accomplished everything on my To Do list today, but at least I can say that I jogged to the top of the Eiffel Tower in 21 minutes and 17 seconds.

“Eiffel Tower Style” photo by Flickr user Jerome Bon

Theoretically, anyway.

See, my gym has a stair-climbing machine, and one of its programs lets you choose from a variety of “famous stairs.” After discovering last week that the Empire State Building was too short for my desired 20-minute warmup, I chose the Eiffel Tower instead.

The Eiffel Tower’s total height is 1,063 feet tall, or about 81 stories. That’s a pretty good climb, right?

Although my Eiffel Tower “run” today was only in my mind, I have actually visited the building in real life and had the pleasure of walking down the stairs from the observation deck. I’m not sure I’d want to run up them, though; not only are they quite numerous, they’re also made of the same “puddled iron” design as the rest of the tower — which means you can see right through them all the way down to the ground below!

Definitely not something you’d want to do if you’re afraid of heights.

But if you do visit the Eiffel Tower, you’ll get a fantastic view of Paris — which is partially why I decided to give my Case of the Cunning Linguist detective, Venus Delmar, an office in the most recognizable building in the world. What better way to solve crimes than by pondering the city’s souls from on high?

A view from the Eiffel Tower’s second floor — “resting @ the eiffel tower” photo by Flickr user looking4poetry

Finally, an interesting historical tidbit for you: In 1906, 120 people actually raced up 730 of the Eiffel Tower’s stairs to the second floor. The winner of the race made it up in 3 minutes and 4 seconds. Sacre bleu, c’est très vite! (Holy blue flames, Superman, that’s fast!) Guess I’ll have to work on my time if I want to keep up with the vertical racers of the early 20th century.

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Hump Day Reviews: Book Lovers, edited by Shawna Kenney

Is it odd to review an anthology in which one of your own stories appears?

Yes.

Am I going to do it anyway?

Also yes. Kind of.

So, as you may or may not already know, earlier this year one of my short stories, “Open Letters to Famous Writers,” was published in the Seal Press anthology Book Lovers: Sexy Stories from Under the Covers, edited by the inimitable Shawna Kenney.

The book includes stories about a wide variety of authors and their literary characters, and the heat level ranges from mild to explicit. There really is a little something for everyone.

One of my favorite stories is former Playboy Playmate Izabella St. James’ “Playmates at Play,” which describes a fun literary fantasy that takes place at Hugh Hefner’s infamous mansion. Though I’d never read any of St. James’ work before, this quickie definitely made me want to read her memoir, Bunny Tales, for more of the inside scoop on Hefner and his honey bunnies.

Another hot little number is Jeremy Edwards’ “Whom.” You may remember Edwards from last week’s Hump Day Review of his award-winning erotocomedic novel of old-time radio, The Pleasure Dial. Suffice to say that this guy knows how to turn up the heat with panache.

Finally, if you’re longing for a sweet, succulent taste of my story — which combines my bookish lust for Oscar Wilde, Anaïs Nin, Henry Rollins and Leonard Cohen all into one sultry package — here’s a brief excerpt to whet your whistle:

 Dear Anaïs Nin,

I have a confession to make. Those dirty little stories you’ve been writing for your patron? The one who always tells you “less art, more sex”? That’s me.

For the rest of my kinky confession, grab a copy of Book Lovers at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound, or Powell’s in the U.S., or at Indigo for my Canadian friends.

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