Jamie DeBree's Blog, page 67
March 7, 2011
Weekly News & Goals - 3/7/11
It's two weeks 'til spring, and I've got mixed feelings. I am so ready for warm weather it's not even funny, but at the same time, I hate daylight savings time (creature of the night here), and warmer weather means more stuff to do in terms of house/yard work. Which is really only solvable one way – by making enough money to hire other people to do all that work outside I don't want to do. That's not going to happen this year. *sigh*
In any case, I'm getting a late start (as you can see), but hopefully I'll be caught up tonight and can keep up with the rest of the week. We have a *ton* of stuff going on around here this week…check it out.
This Week on The Variety Pages
Tuesday: Ch. 52 of The Biker's Wench
Wednesday: Author Interview – Craig Lancaster (literary mastermind)
Thursday: Sex on the Page – Instructions Not Included
Friday: Ch. 53 of The Biker's Wench
Saturday: Excerpt from The Chosen by Shay Fabbro (fantasy)
Don't forget to stop by Carol B's blog on Tuesday for her "Instructions Not Included" post as well…
If you're interested on how I chose my business name and the snakish portion of my logo, join me Thursday at Beyond the Words , my publishing/marketing blog.
Most of you probably know I write in several genres. I've got a new short story out as of last week under my Trinity Marlow pen name called The Entertainer. If you like the spicy bits in my romantic suspense novels, you might want to check it out – it's .99 cents, and approx. 20 pages. The blurb and purchase links are available at Brazen Snake Books . If you don't like the spicy bits in my rom. suspense titles (or are sort of "meh" about them), this probably isn't the story for you. 
And last but not least, because it's easier for me to remember to write a newsletter weekly rather than monthly, Variety News will be going back to weekly issues, one every Sunday. Not only do subscribers get discounts on my books, but I'll be including some character profiles and the occasional excerpt, plus you get the weekly schedule a day early. You also get more in-depth reports on my WIPs, if you're interested. Apologies to those of you who prefer not to get a weekly email, but this is easier for me.
Goal Reports
I still wasn't back at top-speed last week (annoyingly enough), but I did manage to keep up with my serial chapters, and get the short story published, and one crit done. I also got my business site updated (crucial with a new release), and caught up my newsletters and one of the promised guest blog spots taken care of. On the personal front, I finally got my nails done, which feels awesome, paid some bills, and failed miserably on the sleeping part (as usual). Who has time to sleep?
I've got a ton of stuff going on this week, but it's all of my own making, so I can't complain. The biggest thing is that I'm just 15k away from "The End" on The Biker's Wench, and this is the part where I get antsy, and just want it finished *yesterday*. I have no patience at all for endings, which is kind of dangerous, really, so I need to really focus on finishing this draft as soon as possible. I think I can have it done in two weeks if I spend some extra time daily working on it, so that's a big goal for this week. Incidentally, the serial draft will continue to be posted at the same speed – with any luck, the completed story will be out to beta readers before the serial draft finishes up online.
Goals for the Week
Writing
- 6 serial scenes (Yes, I am crazy. Why do you ask?)
- As many extra words as possible for TBW
- 1 crit
Business
- Order business cards (thank goodness I still have some…)
- Catch up 2 interviews & send out
- Market 3 currently available books
Personal
- Clean house
- Work on some financial stuff
- Finish getting well (dang cough)
So that's the news around here. My question for you this week – do you like to read short stories? If so, what kind (genres) do you read?
And of course – what's happening in your world? **Please note - comments take a few moments to appear. Refresh the page to view new comments.
March 5, 2011
On the Bookshelf: On the Big White Oak by Corrine Coleman
Adam had been watching Khloe. She was playing with the little boy. It
was poignant, for it reminded him of his childhood – with Marian.
Every time Khloe would try to put a puzzle piece in the wrong spot, the
boy, Alec, would explain to her why it was not correct. Adam found it
funny that Khloe seemed to be learning from the boy, but continue,
stubbornly, to place the pieces incorrectly.
He observed Delia interacting with them. She seemed lost in the puzzle
herself and was not very good at it. She was smiling - her hand frequently
touching Khloe's – sometimes Alec's. Every few minutes she would look
back at him and catch him watching her. She wanted him to watch her,
now, in this moment. Why?
More than once, Khloe got up to grab Michael's hand and show him
what she'd done. She used to do this with himself. Only recently, he
noticed that behavior begin to diminish. Michael was becoming close with
her – very close. He wondered what this meant.
Delia laughed, then, and his attention was turned back to her. So happy,
she was, to be playing with these children – as if they were her own. And
her beauty seemed perfectly suited next to the little girl who was just as
pretty. What a perfect match they seemed – as mother and daughter. But
they weren't. Delia would never be a mother.
He had been a bit short with his wife, lately, impatient. He found himself
getting annoyed at the little things. She didn't do much all day – had
she always been so boring? The thought wasn't very nice, he knew, but
it irked him that he worked so hard and she did nothing but spend his
money. She spoke of going back to school or work – but didn't take any
initiative to do anything. Sometimes, when he came home from work
and asked her how she spent her day, she truly didn't have an answer.
The other night she told him she purchased a flower pot. It still stood on
the counter, not potted.
He felt guilty, now, about his feelings. He didn't know where they were
stemming from. He loved Delia, greatly. All that he had done for her! He
had given up his dreams of a family. He had given up his own daughter. And
sometimes, lately, he wondered if she were worth it? Was he so blinded by her
beauty that he disregarded everything else? Maybe he was searching for the
other qualities she possessed, qualities that made her who she was.
He scolded himself, Adam, you're being unfair. Delia was a good woman.
Good and kind and always thoughtful of others. She loved him dearly and
took good care of him and their home.
He heard Michael beside him, talking about something to do with his
shop – and he nodded to prove he was listening. But he was watching his
daughter, afraid that he was losing her. Isn't it your own fault?
"So Adam," Rosa called from across the room – her eyes intently focused
on him, "How's work?"
Sometimes, he wondered if she knew. If, maybe, Marian had told her. She
wouldn't do that. She doesn't like to let her down. '"Work's fine, thank you,
Rosa," Adam answered quickly.
Marian brought the cake out, then, and everyone stood up to sing Happy
Birthday. Michael lifted Khloe up to help her blow out the candles.
Everyone was smiling. Everyone, except Adam.
Later that night, Delia came in from the kitchen with a glass of wine for
him. He preferred beer – she knew that – but still, she managed to bring
him wine, as if that action could force his taste buds to change their
minds.
"Thank you," he said, sighing. He leaned against the couch, watching her.
She smiled at him and sat beside him. She wanted something.
"What is it?" he asked her and she shrugged.
"Nothing. Do I need a reason to sit beside my husband?" And she kissed
him on the cheek, moving closer to him. She wants to make love, he
thought. He decided he wanted to, as well. Surely it would relax him – if
the wine, itself, didn't.
He caressed her hair and she searched his eyes. With the exception of two
times – the first time and the first time since the hospital, Delia never made
the first move. Signals, she gave, but she would never simply grab him
or begin undressing him. She hinted around the subject and waited for
him to come to her. He moved his body on top of hers and she lay back,
beneath him.
He unbuttoned her blouse and felt her body begin to writhe. It was familiar
– he knew exactly how to touch her. Within seconds her bra was off and
he was pulling down her pants. One leg, then the other. Always the same
– and he was inside of her. She moaned, softly, and he kissed her, his mind
on other things. When it was over, she was elated and smiled up at him,
noticing his demeanor. "What's wrong?" she asked and he smiled back at
her, dressing.
"Nothing, sweetie, why do you ask?"
She shrugged, "Did you...?" and she was asking if he had finished. He hadn't
– and it was unusual, because no matter what, he was always able to.
"Yes, of course," he said, but she wasn't convinced and her expression was
changed. He turned the television on and she snuggled close to him. He
put his arm around her, pulling her near. This felt nice.
"Adam?"
He turned to her, "Yes?"
"I've been thinking about it – and I was wondering, do you still want to
adopt?"
Adam was a bit taken back by the question. Did she?
"Why do you ask? I thought the subject was closed," he said and she
shrugged.
"I've been thinking about it – and, it's not the ideal solution. Adopting,
that is. Not to me, at all. But it's selfish for me to say the subject is closed.
If you want to adopt, Adam, I'm ready to talk about it. I know we would
be great parents."
Great parents. A great father. He shook his head. "No. I don't want to
adopt," he said simply and she seemed stunned. Tears began filling her
eyes, but she didn't cry.
"You don't?" she asked and he realized, with his honesty, he had shaken her.
Surely she'd be wondering a million things now, simply because of this.
He held her hand, softly, "I'm happy as we are," he said trying to take the
edge off of his words. He kissed her.
She seemed to think of it.
He continued, "We have a good life," and he believed it, "We do things.
We go out. We make love whenever we want. It's very romantic, if you ask
me. We can travel."
"But we really don't – travel, that is," she said, then. "Adam, can I ask –
what made you change your mind?"
He looked at her, shrugging, "I never made a big issue about adopting,
Delia."
"No, but you did mention it. More than once. And I know you – you didn't
push it because of me. If I had said yes then, you would have jumped at
the chance. What's changed?"
Adam shrugged, "We're older now, Delia. I don't think I have the
patience."
"It wasn't that long ago, Adam."
Was she trying to start an argument with him? She doesn't want to adopt,
so what's the difference if he does or not?
"Delia – I suppose seeing Marian with Khloe, it made me realize how much
work it is – to raise children. Not that we couldn't do it – it's just, I'm content
as we are. You and I – that's enough. Do you not agree? Are you unhappy?"
and he turned it on her, a little, disapproving of his tiny manipulation.
She ran her fingers through his hair, "Of course I'm happy with you,
Adam. I was just wondering," and she was silent for a moment and began
watching television. Adam flicked the channels, "Would you like to watch
a show?" he asked her.
"You would tell me, right," Delia said then, "If you ever change your
mind?"
Adam kissed her, nodding, "Of course. We're still very young," he said,
then realized he had contradicted himself. First he had said they were older,
now they were very young. He knew she had caught on to it, but she said
nothing and they didn't speak of it the rest of the night.
Available at: Amazon |Barnes & Noble
Connect with Corrine Coleman: Web Site
March 4, 2011
Serial Novel: The Biker's Wench, Chapter 51
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7| Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 |Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13| Ch. 14 |Ch. 15 |Ch. 16 |Ch. 17 |Ch. 18 |Ch. 19 |Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25| Ch. 26| Ch. 27 | Ch. 28 |Ch. 29 | Ch. 30 | Ch. 31 |Ch. 32 | Ch. 33| Ch. 34 | Ch. 35 | Ch. 36 | Ch. 37 | Ch. 38 | Ch. 39 | Ch. 40 |Ch. 41 |Ch. 42 |Ch. 43 |Ch. 44 |Ch. 45 |Ch. 46 |Ch. 47 |Ch. 48 |Ch. 49 |Ch. 50
The Biker's Wench
Chapter 51
"You scared her," Monica said a couple minutes later, following Harley down the cold, dark passage. Her nose wrinkled at the strong, earthy scent, more prominant here than in the other tunnels. The walls seemed closer too, and the flashlight beam barely illuminated the rough path ahead. She shivered.
"It isn't the first time, and probably won't be the last," Harley said, never breaking stride. "She can handle it."
Monica stumbled over an uneven patch of earth, reaching one hand out to steady herself on the wall. The surface was sharper than she'd anticipated, and she felt the rock dig into her skin. "Ow." She wiped her hand on her jeans, walking right into Harley's back when he stopped short. "I just don't think she should have to handle it. You didn't have to be so--"
"So what?" He turned, holding the flashlight up like a torch, providing too little light to do any good. "I've known Veronica a lot longer than you, darlin', and she'd be insulted if I changed on account of her." He played the light over Monica's body, scanning up one side and down the other. "What was 'ow'?"
She shook her head. "Just a scrape on my hand, nothing important." She held her hand out, palm up so he could inspect it, surprised when he put the box he held on the floor so he could hold her fingers steady. Nervous, she shifted from one foot to the other, his silence putting all sorts of bad thoughts about what might be on the wall in her head. "I tripped, and used the wall to keep from falling. Is that okay? Something I should know?"
He raised her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss in the center. "No, sorry. I should have warned you the tunnel walls are rougher on this side of the ranch. We haven't done anything with these just because of how different the rock is here. You're okay then?"
She laughed. "Of course. I'm fine. Really." He leaned closer, and for a moment her heart raced as she thought he might kiss her, but he bent to pick up the small box, and turned to start walking again. "What's in the box?" she asked, paying close attention to the ground as she followed.
"Old survalliance stuff." He paused, leading her into a side tunnel that felt even smaller than the first one had. "I got a video recorder and a voice recorder - just in case the video fails for some reason. They're both digital, so when we're done we can just take the whole thing to the authorities." He stopped in front of a metal ladder attached to a wall, and shined the flashlight overhead. Monica could see a square wooden door above.
"We're going up here?"
Harley nodded, handing her the box. "Let me climb up and make sure there's nothing over the door." The ladder wasn't very long, and Harley was pushing the wooden slabs up soon after. Monica expected to see light from the crack he opened up, but it was just more darkness. Harley shoved hard, and one side of the door flew up and to the side. He reached down for the box and then climbed up the rest of the way. Thirty seconds later Monica climbed up into a very tidy storage room lined with shelves and racks of clothing.
Swinging the door back into place, Harley secured it. "This way," he said, moving to a door at the far end of the room. He pulled it open and bright, blinding light streamed in. Blinking hard, Monica squinted, unable to see a thing.
"It's about time you guys got here," a low, unfamiliar voice rumbled.
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March 3, 2011
Sex on the Page: Sample "Hot" Scene
Welcome to another post in our series about writing sex! This week we're posting samples, and Carol posted a beautiful "mild" sex scene on Tuesday - if you haven't read it, you really should go check it out. Today I'm sharing an excerpt from Tempest - needless to say, this sample is a bit warmer (though I suppose that depends on who's reading...I don't think it's too spicy, in the grand scheme of things).
The purpose of this scene seems to be to relieve tension when the reader comes into it. My purpose in writing it though was to crank the tension between them up several notches, to acknowledge their growing need for each other, and shortly after (not shown) it serves to complicate their relationship further.
Jake chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through her neck as he kissed the spot just under her ear. "She's right, Charlotte - we need this, and while I'd really like to take my time exploring this luscious body, that's going to have to wait for later." He loosened his grip, turned her to face him and carefully placed her arms around his neck. He leaned in, his gaze so full of heated passion that Charlie nearly melted right then and there.
When his lips met hers, she couldn't stop the trembling that shimmered through her body. She hung on tightly as he nibbled at her mouth, barely registering his fingers at the waistband of her shorts. Then his hand was inside her panties, rough fingertips circling her sensitive bud as he pushed her shorts off her hips. He dipped one long finger into her wetness, then another, catching her cry in his mouth.
Charlie let her hands slide down over his broad chest, her fingers mapping the planes of his muscles all the way to the clasp of his pants. She opened them, nipping along his neckline as she reached inside, wrapping her hand around his cock. He was big, smooth, and oh-so-hard against her palm as she stroked him base to tip. She groaned as he slid his fingers out and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He carried her to the rock wall and leaned her gently against the face of the cliff. Holding her tightly with one arm he shoved his clothing out of the way with the other, entering her in one long, smooth thrust.
Charlie's head dropped back, her body thrumming with the intensity of unexpected emotion. She felt his lips on her chest, moving up her collarbone and over her neck, on the tip of her chin. She lifted her head, eyes closed as she waited to feel his mouth against hers once more.
"Open your eyes, Charlotte," he breathed, and she did, slowly, afraid of what she would see. He pulsed inside her as she met his gaze, shocked at the intensity staring back at her. "You're mine, Charlotte - when this is over, everyone is safe and we're off this damn mountain, it might take a while to get things sorted out. But I'll come to you. Promise you'll wait for me - that you'll give whatever this is a chance."
Charlie felt tears spilling slowly down her cheeks as he stilled, waiting. The request was so formal, and yet so primal. He was claiming her, marking her for his own, and instead of being insulted by it she found herself longing to belong to him. She wanted to believe that he wanted her, would still want her after all was said and done.
"I'm yours," she whispered against his lips. He rewarded her with a crushing kiss and began to move within her, sending spirals of pleasure rushing through her body. Charlie let her eyes close again, giving herself over completely to the feel of his lips moving down her neck, his body locked tightly to hers. She felt whole, as some part of her she hadn't even known was missing had been restored. Moving with him, she matched his movements as she gave herself over to passion.
Her body tightened as his thrusts came faster, more insistent. The tension wound stronger, exploding out from her core with a shocking intensity as she felt him come inside her. Then she was floating, all of the tension draining away as she collapsed in his arms. He hugged her against his chest, kissed her neck and then set her on her feet, making sure she could stand on her own before he turned away. He pulled his clothes together, then got her shorts, bending over and holding them for her to step in. Charlie's eyes teared up at yet another display of tender caring from this normally detached macho man. She buttoned up, and he tugged her gently over to sit by the fire.
"I'll go get Adrienne," he said, his voice raw and husky. "We should get moving again soon."
If you write sex scenes, what was the purpose of the last sex scene you wrote?
Next week: Instructions Not Included
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Ravenmarked Contest Winners!
And the winners are.... (chosen via Random.org)
Pippa Jay Shay Fabbro Brooklyn Ann
Congratulations, ladies! Amy will be contacting you shortly to send you your books (or a coupon to Smashwords).
March 2, 2011
Guest Post: Romance in Fantasy by Amy Rose Davis
I don't consider myself a romance writer. And to be completely honest, I don't consider myself a romance reader. I don't have anything against them, and the ones I've read, I've mostly enjoyed. I just don't really seek them out.
But the strangest thing happens when I sit down to write: Romance shows up.
I write fantasy, and I think it's completely possible (and sometimes expected) to write a compelling fantasy novel without a shred of romance in it. Fantasy has enough tropes and conventions to fill a small castle library, so finding ways to move plot forward and develop characters is not a difficult thing. There's really no need to weave in romantic story lines. And yet, I do. Almost every time.
I see romance all over the place. Romance, love, sex, lust, and passion are deeply entwined with life. If I write about humans (or fairy/human hybrids, or angelic creatures with human characteristics, or soul vampires, or whatever), those primitive drives and desires are going to show up.
Jennifer Roberson introduced me to true romantic themes in fantasy way back when I read her Chronicles of the Cheysuli series. The entire series was a dynastic epic with strong romantic overtones, because the whole arc involved marriages and offspring that would fulfill prophecies. Some characters got their HEAs, some didn't. Some married and had children, but kept their true loves on the side as paramours. Some fell in love where they least expected it. The whole series was brilliant in weaving romance, love, lust, and desire with the overall arc of fulfilling prophecy.
Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series had a strong romantic theme as well, and at least in the first few books, it worked really well. Goodkind carried it to the nth level, in fact; the main character's undying devotion to the woman he loved actually saved the world from a tyrant in Wizard's First Rule.
George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books have plenty of sex, but not so much true romance. Where romance and love do occur, Martin is the master of keeping his characters from their HEAs. I can't think of a single couple who is living "happily ever after" in his world at this point. I don't think every couple in fantasy should have a "happily ever after," but it would be nice if a few in Martin's world could.
Which leads me to my perspective on romantic fantasy… I don't automatically write happily ever afters for my characters. I write a lot of "happy for nows" or "happy-ish, but we've got some issues." In Ravenmarked, of the three main couples, only one gets anything close to a "happily ever after," and that's a minor couple. But as I said, at least someone is happy. And I won't say much except that I think it will work out for them. He's a decent guy who doesn't mind all her nonsense and thinks a woman with power is sexy.
But I do think that the overtones of romance are as important in epic fantasy as they are in romantic suspense or paranormal romance or any of a variety of genres. And I think that romance in any genre should be true to life—that is, give some people a happily ever after, some a happy for now, and some a… well, whatever other option there is.
I've read fantasy novels that seem to try to avoid romance and even sex altogether. Not even YA fantasies—just fantasies where it seems the author preferred not to think about that. And I've read fantasies where romances went from zero to married in an eyeblink, and I thought, "wait—what?" Unless the marriage is arranged, show me how they got from A to Z, please. I want to know why they care about each other.
So when romance emerges in my fantasy, I don't avoid it. I embrace it. When my hero Connor realizes that the irritating little church girl is actually quite pretty and has a stubborn streak that he finds oddly appealing, I want to share that with readers. When my heroine Mairead sees that Connor is a rake, but a damn sexy rake, I want to show readers how conflicted she feels about her chastity and upbringing when this really amazing guy starts getting a little closer to her. And when Connor gives Mairead her very first kiss ever, I want to show readers that even though nothing much happens, for Mairead, everything changes. When Mairead lies very still trying to quiet her thumping heart, I want readers to fan themselves and say, "Wow. That's romance."
It doesn't matter so much whether the hero swings a sword or runs a corporation or works as a personal trainer. It doesn't matter if the heroine is a woman with a past or a destiny. Put people in their natural environments, and romance will show up.
Amy Rose Davis is an independent epic fantasy author. She lives in Oregon with her husband, Bryce, and their four children. Bryce provides comic relief, editing, and inspiration, and regularly talks her off the various ledges she climbs onto.
Amy is an unapologetic coffee addict, but her other vices include chocolate, margaritas, and whiskey. She prefers cats to dogs (but houses both), loves the color green, and enjoys the smell of new pencils and crayons. She has eclectic tastes in friends, music, and books, and is as likely to watch 300 as Becoming Jane.
http://www.ravenmarked.com/
Amy has generously agreed to give away *three* digital copies of Ravenmarked to one lucky commenter each. Simply leave a comment below before midnight tonight, and I'll announce the winners here tomorrow morning. Please make sure you leave a valid email with your comment (it won't show up in the comment itself) so I can get a hold of you if you win.
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March 1, 2011
Serial Novel: The Biker's Wench, Chapter 50
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7| Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 |Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13| Ch. 14 |Ch. 15 |Ch. 16 |Ch. 17 |Ch. 18 |Ch. 19 |Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25| Ch. 26| Ch. 27 | Ch. 28 |Ch. 29 | Ch. 30 | Ch. 31 |Ch. 32 | Ch. 33| Ch. 34 | Ch. 35 | Ch. 36 | Ch. 37 | Ch. 38 | Ch. 39 | Ch. 40 |Ch. 41 |Ch. 42 |Ch. 43 |Ch. 44 |Ch. 45 |Ch. 46 |Ch. 47 |Ch. 48 |Ch. 49
The Biker's Wench
Chapter 50
"Who is he?" Monica asked, careful to keep her voice low. Veronica and one of the other girls had shown her a few easy ways to get loose if someone grabbed her, and on the way out of the gym the harem girl had paused, her attention drawn to a man working on a piece of equipment across the room. He already had an audience of three other giggling beauties, and Veronica shook her head, turning back to the door.
"That's Chance, the handyman. As you can see he's quite...popular." She pulled Monica into the hall. "We'd better get back to my dressing room before Harley figures out I forgot my phone. There will be hell to pay if he's looking for you."
Monica hurried behind her, grinning at the way Veronica had changed the subject. "So you and Chance..."
"No." She fitted the key in her lock then held the door open for Monica. "I don't date guys bigger than me," she clarifed, still holding the door open. She smiled wryly, winking at Monica as footsteps pounded down the hall toward them. "Not quick enough, I guess." Harley skidded to a stop in front of the door just then, breathing heavily as Monica raised an eyebrow at him.
"Miss me?"
In two steps he was in front of her, dropping a box to the floor as he pulled her tight to his chest. His lips descended, delivering a punishing, possessive kiss that made Monica's head spin. She grasped Harley's neck, running her fingers through his hair as she gave him the reassurance he obviously sought. When he pulled back, he glanced over his shoulder at Veronica.
"Why didn't you answer the phone? I thought something happened..."
Monica reached up and turned his head to face her. "We just forgot the phone is all. Veronica was showing me a few protection moves in the gym, and--"
Harley frowned and stepped back, leaving Monica to miss the warm contact. "You left this room? I told you to stay here. What if someone had seen you?" He turned around. "And what were you thinking, taking her out there, showing her moves? She's got a gash in her head, dammit - what the hell were you thinking?"
"Whoa." Veronica put both hands up. "I was thinking she needed to stay awake, and this little room wasn't cutting it. Laura and I demonstrated some moves for her - she didn't actually do anything but watch. And you never said not to leave the room. So just cool it. Everyone's fine."
Monica saw Harley's fists clench. Apparently Veronica did too, judging from her tense muscles and the way she tried to back up. Only there was no where to go, and she pressed herself tight against the door, eyes narrowed in a cold stare. Monica stepped in front of Harley, putting a hand in the center of his chest.
"That's enough. Calm down, both of you. I'm fine, nothing happened. Did you get what we need, hon?"
At the endearment, he looked down, the tension slowly leaving his body as he nodded. He glanced over her shoulder. "You and I will talk later." Looking down at Monica, he bent to pick up the box he'd dropped earlier, and grabbed her hand. "We have to go. Now."
Veronica opened the door, standing well away as he pulled her forward. Monica shrugged as she went past, relieved when Veronica winked at her. The door closed and she jogged after Harley down a long hallway and two flights of stairs into a dark basement. He unlocked a door underneath the stairwell and ushered her into the tunnels once again.
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February 28, 2011
Weekly News & Goals - 2/27/11
You're probably aware by now that I succumbed to a serious head cold last week, which was a rather unpleasant experience I do not recommend if you can help it. My apologies for missing Friday's chapter of The Biker's Wench. The story continues as usual on Tuesday – thanks for waiting.
This week, it's back to business as usual with a very full posting schedule around here. Some fun stuff coming up for you, including a guest post and giveaway by fantasy author Amy Rose Davis on Wednesday, and two sample sex scenes from Carol & I on Tuesday and Thursday for the Sex on the Page series. I hope you'll join us – I think it's interesting to see how very different Carol & I approach sex in our respective genres.
This Week on The Variety Pages
Tuesday: Chapter 50 of The Biker's Wench
Wednesday: Author Interview/Giveaway – Amy Rose Davis
Thursday: Sex on the Page – Sample Scene from Tempest
Friday: Chapter 51 of The Biker's Wench
Saturday: On the Bookshelf – On the Big White Oak by Corrine Coleman
Chris Brett posted a lovely review of Tempest on his blog yesterday, along with an interview with me, so check that out at The Pirate's Bounty . If you're interested in winning a print/ebook combo of Tempest, I'm giving one away over there, so leave a comment and your email address. Or just stop in to say hi, and see who my hero is.
And if you're interested in my sales stats for the last couple months, stop in at Beyond the Words on Tuesday.
Goal Reports
Thanks to that stupid cold, about the only things I got done last week were the short story (which I'll be releasing this Friday), and more sleep (because I really, really needed it to combat the cold). Otherwise, it was pretty much a wash, which always annoys me. I'm looking forward to getting caught up again, even though it will be a chore.
Goals for the Week
Writing
Edit, format & upload The Entertainer for release Friday.
5 new serial scenes
Crits for 3 people
Business
Update BSB site with new release info.
Send out 2 newsletters
Order business cards!!
Catch up on an interview & other requests I couldn't get to last week.
Personal
Catch up manicure (one week off, and I've got broken nails everywhere)
Sleep enough to finish healing
Catch up personal finances (today's payday)
That's what's going on around here this week – what are you up to? Anything fun, or are you playing catch-up too? **Please note: comments take a few moments to post. Refresh the page to view.
February 26, 2011
On the Bookshelf: The Butcher's Boy by Michael Robb
From Chapter 4
As soon as he caught his breath Michael went to find Oliver. He wanted the hole boarded over so that he never had to go back there again.
His mom headed him off in the house before he could talk to Oliver though, and her concern over his cut and his filthy state landed him in the bathtub. He spent the afternoon being pampered and tended by Doctor Mom and her tackle box full of first aid supplies, while Steve, Oliver, and the movers finished their business.
Michael fell asleep downstairs and only roused briefly when Steve carried him up to his new room. Lucy looked uncomfortable with that, but Mom scowled to keep her in check.
Michael dreamed that he was in the old lady's yard again, only this time she raised her broom stick up high like and lurched off the porch toward his hiding place. When he turned to run he tripped and fell over a tangle of roots. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get back to his feet, and when the crone was upon him her face twisted into a ghoulish snarl. Her maw gaped wide exposing rows of sharp pointed teeth. The broomstick transformed into an axe, the heavy blade slicing through the air right at his face. Michael woke with a start just before the axe cleaved his skull.
He was freezing. The room was icy, so cold that he could see his breath when he exhaled. This alarmed him and he sat up in bed looking around at his unfamiliar surroundings. His first instinct was to feel for Lucy. She was there nestled against his hip and sleeping soundly. Then Michael looked down at the foot of his bed where a figure stood eyeing him curiously.
It was a boy of about the same age and stature as Michael, but this was no ordinary child; it was a wavering ghost of a boy. Michael would have screamed but his throat was too dry.
There was nothing threatening about the ghost's gaze, but Michael was no less terrified because of it. The apparition reached a hand toward him and Michael scooted back, waking Lucy. The ghost looked as if it were about to speak, but the dog snarled and snapped at it.
"Billy…" the ghost's eerie voice sounded just before Lucy shot through its smoky form and sent it swirling away into nothingness.
Angry and confused, Lucy recovered from her crash landing and went into a frenzy of barking and sniffing.
Michael realized it wasn't cold anymore. In fact it was sweltering. He was struggling to breathe and couldn't peel his eyes away from the spot where the ghost boy had just been standing.
Mom burst into the room, her eyes taking in everything.
"What is it?" she asked. "What happened? Are you two all right?"
Lucy yipped in response as Mom came to Michael's side and pressed her palm against his forehead.
"Oh baby, you're burning up," she cooed. "You must have had a fever dream. Will you be all right while I go find some Tylenol?"
Michael nodded, but he wasn't sure if he would ever be all right again. He knew he hadn't been dreaming, and so did Lucy.
Available at: Amazon |Barnes & Noble |Smashwords
Connect with Michael: Web Site |Twitter
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February 24, 2011
Sex on the Page: Porn vs. Erotica
Warning: This discussion will feature frank talk about graphic literary descriptions of sexual acts. If you are under 18 years old, or offended by frank discussions of a sexual nature, do not read further.
Drawing the line between pornography and erotica is, as with anything in literature, a very subjective thing. While we can perhaps agree on a general description of each, one person's emotional attachment is another person's cold encounter, so it's not something that can really be definitive, in my opinion.
The point of both pornography and erotica is to arouse/stimulate the reader. Porn does that through very visual means, while erotica appeals on an emotional level. Whether words or images, porn is always graphic. Porn is meant to arouse the instinct to mate rather than the emotional connection between two people - physical stimulation is the primary goal. Men typically prefer porn to erotica due to the very visual, instinctual nature of pornography, because they tend to be more visual overall. Pornography needs no plot or story – the very act of sex is the story.
In contrast, the primary goal of erotica is to arouse the mind, thus arousing the body. Erotica does not have to be graphic to be effective (though it can be and often is). It's different from romance in that while the characters have an emotional connection, it's not always love – it can simply be a strong attraction, or lust, but there is story, a plot that develops the attraction between two (or more) people. There is no requirement for a "happily ever after" (HEA) at the end, though plenty of erotic stories do include an HEA.
For an example of my definitions of porn vs. erotica, I'm going to share part of a draft scene from the erotic short story I just finished. I rewrote it into more of a porn scene so you can see where I personally find the differences. Your opinion may be different, of course.
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Here's the original draft scene from The Entertainer (erotic romance):
Running her fingers through his hair she arched up as he laved at a hard nipple. The action sent electrical impulses straight down to her core, and she squirmed, her clit begging for attention. As if he could read her mind, he reached between them and pressed a finger against her heat, fanning the flames higher.
"More. Please." She wiggled against him, frustrated by the barrier of her jeans and panties. Then the pressure was gone, and she nearly cried out in frustration.
He kissed her lips, smiling against them as his fingers worked at the button of her pants. "Shh...it's okay. Patience, sweetheart." Leaving a trail of kisses down the center of her body, he moved lower until he could shimmy the offending clothes off her hips and onto the floor. Fabric rustled and Brynn let her legs fall open as she waited for him to return. Not disappointed for long, soon she felt his fingers tickling up between her legs, pushing them apart as he stepped between them. A finger traced her inner lips, smoothing over and around lubricating her with her own cream. Then she felt his breath on her core and time all but stopped as his tongue licked her most sensitive nub and sent her nerves soaring.
She reached down to run her fingers through the thick curls on his head as he pushed one finger inside her. She moaned low as he worked in and out, adding a second finger to stretch her passage. His tongue swirled round and round, sending her higher and higher, as his fingers pumped in and out, bringing her closer to something she'd never quite been able to grasp.
Then he turned his fingers just so and curled the tips at the same time he sucked down hard on her clit, and the world exploded into a million different colors as her whole body spiraled out of control.
And the same scene, rewritten with a more porn slant:
Running her fingers through his hair she arched up as he tongued a hard nipple. She squirmed, her clit throbbing with need. He reached between them and pressed a finger between her legs, swirling it around fast, the rough denim biting into her labia.
"More. Please." She wiggled against him, pressing her mound harder against his hand. Then the pressure was gone, and she nearly cried out in frustration.
"You want more?" He kissed her lips, his tongue demanding entrance as he ravaged her mouth. "I'll give you more." He moved away, his fingers diving into her waistband to shimmy the rest of her clothes off her hips and onto the floor. Brynn let her legs fall open as she waited for him to return. Soon she felt his fingers sliding up between her legs, pushing them apart as he stepped between them. A finger traced around her hot, wet pussy, lubricating her with her own cream. Then she felt his breath on her clit, and time all but stopped as he licked and nibbled at her inner lips, his tongue pushing inside her tight entrance.
She grabbed the thick curls on his head as he pushed one finger inside her. She moaned low as he worked in and out, adding a second finger. He spit on her clit, his tongue moving the lubricant around as he thrust his digits in and out of her tight hole. Her inner muscles clamped around them, moist sucking noises punctuating his every motion.
Then he turned his fingers just so and curled the tips at the same time he sucked down hard on her clit, and she arched high, screaming his name as the orgasm rippled through her body.
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I'm the first to admit I'm not good at writing porn, because I normally prefer erotica, personally. But I think you get the basic idea – very frank terms, and very little emotional connection between the characters. Porn is raw, and often messy. They're on screen solely to have sex, and it doesn't really matter if they have a relationship or not. In erotica, the sex is an integral part of the story, but still moves the plot along in some way.
So now you know my basic definitions for porn and erotica – are yours different? How do you distinguish between porn and erotica?
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