Daisy Harris's Blog, page 37

Check out My Design SKILLZ

Ok, fine…I have no skillz. But I'm still proud that I've been working on my Lust After Death info sheet and banner. I cheated and had my husband do my Love-Bots ads because I was on a deadline. But, I wanted to share them all with you because I'm so effin' proud!!

(Background– I've had a mental block against graphic design for ages now. I don't need to become good. I just need to get to where I can make my own romance trading cards and such.)

So…here's what I've got…

Banner:

Ad:

And info sheet! See? I'm so dang organized!

LAD infosheet

Freakin' Awesome Friday: Sunshine Edition

Hey guys! I've decided to launch a weekly spot to talk about all the things that make Fridays fabu! Of course, I have kids, so the weekends aren't necessarily easier than the weekdays. But Friday happy is infectious. And IT'S SUMMER!

1.SUNSHINE

It was sunny yesterday, and I gotta tell you—that sh*t is better than Prozac. It's supposed to be sunny again for the next week or so, and that's friggin' awesome! Yay, sun!

2. NOT HAVING JURY DUTY

My poor editor Grace has jury duty next week. It's moments like these that I remember how lucky I am. I've NEVER been called for jury duty. (Knock on wood.) I'm fairly certain I'm on a list somewhere labelled, "Not qualified to pass judgement." And since I have no jury duty, I can enjoy SUNSHINE!!

3. STUDENSTEIN!

The sequel to Lust After Death is mostly done…really, really, like 99% done. The lovely Saritza Hernandez is doing a final read-through for typos (because I am the queen of typos) and then it's off to Grace for editing. Of course, Grace is in jury duty. But I have faith in her ability to act crazy enough not to get picked.

4. Fan Mail

I got the nicest piece of Lust After Death fan mail the other day. Incredibly sweet! The readers make this writing gig worthwhile, and readers like that who put the spring in my step, and the bounce in my fingers. Yay, fan mail!

5. Graphic design

I'm going to learn to do rudimentary graphic design if it kills me. I put in several hours yesterday to messing with GIMP, and…I'm getting there. It's better than it was…though I still have a long way to go.

I'm learning to make banners…getting better!

6. Promo

Okay—I know Promo was one of the things I complained about only three days ago in my Too Stupid To Live Tuesday post, but now it's Friday, I have a new outlook! In the next few months, I'm gonna be a promo machine! Why? Because I have a whole slew of Love-Bots books I wanna write, and Id' like it if a lot of people read them.

And they're good. But no one will know this unless they hear about them.

So yay promo! And yay sunshine! It's amazing what a little vitamin D and a little reframing will do for a girl.

Guest Post by Lucy Felthouse: Why Am I Still Writing Vampires?

Firstly, I just wanted to say a big thank you to Daisy for having me on her blog today – thanks, girl!

Now, onto answering the question – why am I still writing vampires? My latest release, BITE WITH HEIGHT, is a f/f vampire erotic romance, set in the beautiful city of Paris. But why, you may ask, am I still writing vampires when there's so much vampire stuff out there already and other topics like angels and demons, and zombies seem to be becoming popular?

Well, the answer is very simple. Yes, there are new genres popping up here, there and everywhere, and that's excellent. People always want something new and fresh and I myself like a good fallen angel story. But I'm still writing vampires because I want to.

That's not to say I won't write a zombie tale at some point – who knows? But right now my girls Meg and Grace have the beginning of their tale out there in the world and they're yelling at me to continue it. And I will – I want to. Feedback seems to indicate that people are enjoying their story. So while I've got the drive, determination and love of the story, I'm going to write it. Personally, my work comes out much better when I'm really into it, so I'd prefer to pen my vampires while my enthusiasm is rife, rather than making myself write an angel or a zombie story because I feel I should.

Besides, despite some comments to the contrary, I don't think people are getting bored of vampire stories. As a reader, I'm certainly not. And as a writer, I'm not either. The story that was begun in BITE WITH HEIGHT leaves much more to be told, so I'm going to do it. I may not be the hippest kid on the block for writing in such a populated genre, but I'm sure happy. And when I come up with a cool plot for an angel, demon or zombie book, I'll write it – because I want to. And not a minute before.

*****

BITE WITH HEIGHT blurb:

When Meg spots a young woman alone in the Pigalle district of Paris at night, she's intrigued. She has to know her story and find out why she looks so sad and alone. After introducing herself, Meg realizes that she and Grace have a lot in common. But when they decide to go and grab a drink together, they discover a mutual love that could bond them forever.

Buy it here!

*****

During Lucy's first year studying Creative Writing at the University of Derby, she was dared to write an erotic story. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing and Xcite Books. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Too Stupid to Live Tuesday: Not Enough Hours in the Day Edition

1. Time

I hate time. Because I don't have enough of it. I can't find enough hours to write books, promote books, take care of kids, cook, clean, and still call my mother every once in a while. I need at least 6 more hours in each day. And yet, when I'm waiting to hear back about something (like a book I submitted, or a house we put in an offer on—no we didn't get it, thanks for asking though), time slows to a lurching crawl. Damn you, time! Who made you the boss of me?

2. Marketing

Here's the thing about marketing and promotions—many awesome authors say you don't have to do it. Write awesome books, they say, and lot of 'em! Don't waste your time with guest-posts, trinkets, and paid ads. Just write, write, write! But I wonder—if the author in question wasn't promoting, how would I be reading the article/guest post/etc in which they're saying they're not promoting.

Dude, you are promoting *right now!* (Yes, I totally blew your mind.)

Nevertheless, I hate marketing my work. I'd much rather say nice things about other peoples' books than my own. So moving forward I'm not going to market at all. At least for a little while. I wanna know if it makes a difference one way or the other. In the meantime I'll just write awesome books and see if anyone reads them.

3. Paper

The paper-is-better-than-ebook argument is so 2009.

4. Global Warming

I'm gonna go ahead and call it: global warming has f*cked up my summer royally. Sure, maaaaaybe it's not global warming. Tell that to the people living through 105 degree days without air conditioning. Here in Seattle, global warming was slated to make it wetter, not hotter. I didn't believe them! How, I asked, could it possibly get wetter!

Well, it did. And it sucks. The only summer suckier than this summer was last summer. I hoped global warming would turn

No house for you! Your bid came in too late!

Seattle into Northern California. Instead, it's making us into Southern Alaska. Oh gee, thanks global warming! #yousuck

5. Real Estate

Oh real estate, you fickle bitch! I looked five years for a house in our neighborhood with an office with a separate entrance in our price range…and you provide one. But you put it on the market while I was out of town. And someone else bought it. You dangled the home of my dreams in front of my nose, only to snatch it away. If prices go up in the next 6 months, real estate, I'm going to hunt you down and bust a cap in your a$$! (That is, when I figure out how to bust a cap.)

And here, dear readers…to make you feel better. A little fuzzy, fuzzy, cute, cute!

Too Stupid To Live Tuesday: Whiny Kindle Edition

Stupid #1: The Kindle Ads

So while I've been out at the beach in Long Island visiting my family, Kindle appears to have launched an ad campaign. A Too-Stupid-To-Live ad campaign.

Now, normally I think Amazon is genius—and that's not just because I live in Seattle and I receive dividends in the form of better home prices and local economy for saying so. Amazon led the way to interwebs book buying and brought ebooks mainstream. Sure, ebooks existed before Kindles…I guess. But in 2008, when I bought my Kindle off craigslist, I wasn't aware that I could read an ebook without one.

More than any other company, Amazon made ebooks palatable to the average reader. The problem is this—people are buying iPads. But that's not really the issue. The problem is that people are reading on the Kindle app, not the Kindle itself. And once people realize they're reading on an app, they'll realize the device they're reading on is an Apple product.

And hey! Doesn't Apple have something nowadays?? What is that thing called again…oh, I know! iBooks!! iPad is not Amazon's enemy, iBooks is.

The ad campaign is dumb because it's not even addressing what Amazon actually wants to do—which is keep people buying from Amazon! instead, Amazon is whining and snarking about being able to read the Kindle in direct sunlight. Because, yeah…the average gadget buyer didn't already know you can't read a backlit device in bright sun.

…because none of us have learned this from our cell phones.

Dumn, Amazon. Dumn, dumb, dumb. Oh, and by the way—sand gets in the Kindle's page turning mechanism at the beach. You're welcome.

2. The "But eBooks Can't…(blank) Argument."

I'm getting sick of people trying to come up with excuses for why they can't read ebooks. If you prefer paper books, if you despise change, if you really, really *want* to read paper, I can't stop you. But I wish bloggers and book pundits would stop trying to manufacture reasons for ebooks' inferiority.

Today I read a blog post that cried, "But you can't bend over the page!"

Well. 0.o As if Kindle wasn't stating the obvious enough in it's "you can read it in sunlight" ad.

No, you can't fold a page. Why? Because an ereader, or device with an app, is NOT MADE OF PAPER!! It is, however, thinner, lighter, and more convenient than a giant pile of paper books. And in life, dear readers, you cannot have everything you want. Deal with it.

3. Cat Pee.

What the frak is up with cat pee!! You can't get rid of that smell to save your ever-lovin life! When we purchased our house, I noticed that the front porch smelled a bit like cat pee. I overlooked this, thinking that once the cat was gone, the smell would dissipate. No such luck. In fact, we've since torn down the porch and built a whole new one, but the scent lingers. I swear, it's in our walls.

Effin cats.

4. JFK

The airport, not the former president. I flew out of there the other day and felt like a refugee trying to escape a war torn country. Honestly, I would have been glad to arrive anywhere that was not New York, even with only the clothes on my back. I half expected to be given a new name when I touched down in Seattle, and to be carted off to work in an industrial-revolution-era factory.

5. Borders Nostalgia

I can't remember the last time I went into a half-decent Borders. Oh yeah—it was circa 2000 in Kona, Hawaii. That was a nice Borders. Since then, every one I've been to had all the ambiance of an Office Depot. Walking into a Borders in the past few years gave me a sick, slightly embarrassed feeling—partially embarrassed for the people working there, and partially for myself for having made the mistake of stepping through the doors, and then feeling so guilty that I felt like I had to buy something.

And I felt this way for years before I knew the company was in trouble. It was like watching an injured animal die and slow and painful death in the middle of the road. I'm not entirely sure I can be sad when the poor thing is finally out of it's misery.

And there you have it folks. My five Too Stupid To Live stories of the week. What're yours?

Too Stupid To Live Tuesday: Erica Jong Edition!

Okay, I'm a day late. not a great start to a "regular" blogging day, but frak it. It's my blog and I'll run late if I want to. Anyhoo– lots of stupid this week. Where to start?

1. Erica Jong

Dear Erika Jong,

Your daughter doesn't parent differently than you did because she doesn't want to have sex. She raises her kids differently because she thinks you were a bad parent. I'm sure the poor woman has been trying to protect your feelings for a while now, not cutting off your lame-ass rants about how people in their thirties can't possibly be having sex because they breastfeed. But, since you're not *my* mother, I can tell you this: Being raised in a crib or playpen sucking a plastic pacifier and nursing from a silicon teat wasn't all that it's cracked up to be.

If you suspect people in their thirties don't like being touched, perhaps you should consider it's because people went out of their way not to touch us in infancy.

And we have plenty of sex, thank you.

Oh– and by the way– Generation X'ers have lower divorce rates than Boomers. And studies show we value family more. BOOM!

2. Minivans

Why the frak do minivans have to be so gigantic? The Colt Vista my parents had in the 80's was tiny compared to today's models. And when the Mazda 5 first came out it was hella smaller than it is today. I'm not buying one until they get smaller. So there.

3. The "Romance Novels are Bad for You" Crowd

Another day, another anti-romance article. *Yawn*

Apparently, romance novels cause everything from divorce to obesity to depression. But I ask this– why aren't there more article condemning the evil of cars? Automobiles cause obesity, urban sprawl, global warming, and are the leading cause of death in people ages 12–25. Not to many people think about giving up their car because it's bad for them.

Yeah, the two are totally unconnected. I was just making a point.

4. Heat+Humidity

It's so fraking hot here in New York that one of the kids at my daughter's camp thew up form heat exhaustion yesterday. Effin global warming! Stop driving your damn car!

5. Law Suits

So my kids' camp requires all campers to wear sneakers and socks every day. Not sandals. Why? Because they're scared of someone falling down and their parents suing. This is the dumbest thing on the planet, since in 95 degree weather with 100% humidity, kids are way, way, way more likely to get heat stroke (leading parents to sue) than they are to fall down and break a limb.

I told my kid she doesn't have to wear socks today. Fight the power.

Six Sentence Sunday: LUST AFTER DEATH

Today's six come from my newest release, LUST AFTER DEATH, available from Ellora's Cave NOW!

His look dared her to argue, demanded she slink to her corner and cower.

Well, Josie had done enough of that with Adam. "If you just explained to me what you were trying to do…" Her voice rose and she struggled to find the right words, but Bane's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He dragged her hand to the juncture of his thighs and pressed her palm to the ridge along his fly. Only this time she knew what lay beneath, and what he meant to do with it.

Larb Gai, Mutherf*ckers!

See how mellow?

I live in Seattle– land of temperate rainforest, hiking, rock-climbing, vegan potlucks and ultimate frisbee. I'm from New York. (Actually born in Miami, but lived in NY from age three onward.) New York boasts kick-ass pizza, aggressive drivers, high-stakes investing, and way-too-competitive tennis. Much as I love the motherland, I cannot in any way, shape, or form handle the level of competition. Everything in New York is aggressive– the newscasters, radio personalities, heck– even the baristas. Okay, fine– not the baristas. Seattle baristas would wipe the carpet with NY baristas' assess.

The exception, however, proves the rule. Seattle is way, way, way less intense and competitive than New York. In fact, the constant one-upmanship of New York is one of the reasons I left. Who wants to feel like a loser because they don't earn $250,000 a year? Or fat because they're a size 8?

Me, I prefer a slower pace. Some might say I'm…anti-competitive. My kids often complain they don't like "winning and losing" games. Yes, I've trained them to believe all games can be played without separating victors from vanquished. My brain is a very free-to-be-you-and-me place.

Most of the time.

Ach! So stressful!

Now there are a few things Seattle-ites do better than New Yorkers. Yes, coffee is one. Software is another. We're subtle in our attack, more passive-aggressive than aggressive. We win, but in sneakier ways. And one of those ways, I've discovered, is potlucking.

Cascadia (Oregon, Washington, British Columbia) is all about the potluck. I've been to parties at the homes of relatively famous folks and still been expected to bring a dish. Egalitarianism rules the day; a hippie mentality reins. The fact that many of the people basting tempeh in a balsamic reduction work at Amazon or Microsoft doesn't diminish the earnestness of their efforts. But make no mistake– this is potlucking with some crazy type-A bastards, who'll move your serving dish off the center table in a heartbeat if you can't hold your own!

So, without even meaning to, I've stepped up my game. Truth is, I like to cook. And much as I feel disadvantaged sometimes since we don't shop at Whole Foods, I feel I've done the best I can with the resources at hand. I rock a salad; I own a lentil. I do things with tofu you can't even imagine.

Hence, when invited to a casual potluck here in New York while visiting family, I decided to play it close to the chest. I made ground meat and peas-an old Madhur Jaffrey dish. Sure, I made it with lamb and not our usual ground beef, and yeah I coupled it with spiced rice, not plain basmati. But…nothing fancy. *grins wickedly*

I cleaned the floor with every supposed "cook" at that effin potluck! People are walking up to me still today asking what spices I put in the recipe, apologizing if they didn't taste it. They heard good things, they say. Folks that weren't even invited know about my cooking.

I canz make all the shiz-nit!

No, I answer, no– I don't play tennis. But when it comes to Indian cooking, y'all can suck my c*ck.

There's another potluck this Monday night. And this time, I've abandoned any hope of remaining humble. I've already ordered the injera bread two day air. None of the folks here have even heard of Ethiopian food. No idea where the frak I'm going to find berbere around here, but I'll grind cloves myself in a coffee grinder if I have too. I'm about to open a can of potlucking whoop-ass the likes of which the tri-state area has never seen.

Because I don't like winning-and-losing games. Except when I win.

Lust After Death: Sex…With Zombies!! (Not as Gross as it Sounds)

So I've got a release tomorrow. An AWESOME one. Lust After Death is my rockin' zombies novella and the first in my love-bot series. Here's an excerpt to whet your appetite…for love.

Oh, and before I forget, here's the buy link!

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: LUST AFTER DEATH

Copyright © DAISY HARRIS, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

The windows hovered a good two feet above his head, long, horizontal rectangles running the length of the house. He searched for a nearby rock or tree, hell maybe even a ladder, but all he found were a few empty milk crates in the scrabbly weeds at the side of the house. Bane lifted one in each hand and positioned them in front of a window. Hearing voices the next room over, he snatched the cartons up and placed them on the rocky ground. Then Bane climbed on top and craned his head to peer inside.

He heard a man's angry voice, but Bane couldn't see over the windowsill. He jumped down, stumbling a little on the landing. Then Bane grabbed another crate and climbed up again, balancing as best he could on the uneven surface of river rocks and weeds that surrounded the house.

The scientist towered over the girl while she huddled in a corner of a bathroom. She wore a torn hospital gown, and her thin, pale hands rubbed at her slim arms.

Bane gripped the ledge with one hand while snaking the other around his hip to grip the handle of his pistol. The doctor kept his back to the window, and Bane placed the gun's barrel against the glass, calculating a shot that wouldn't risk hitting the girl.

The man gestured between her and the tub. Water ran, steam curling above the surface. The stein said something, but Bane couldn't hear what. The guy—Adam Friedman, Q-ter had said his name was—threw up his hands and stalked from the room.

Bane exhaled a low, growling breath and replaced his gun in his pocket and his hand on the windowsill. He readied to jump down and watch the guy from other windows, but the girl stood and damn near looked right at him. He froze in place, watching her wipe tears from her eyes.

She peered down at her wet fingers, confusion etched on her angelic face, and then she gave her digit a tentative lick. Eyes wide with surprise, the girl fed her finger farther into the bow of her mouth.

Ho-ly shit! His body sprung to attention, his nerve endings strung taut as a bow.

Feeling like a peeping tom, Bane looked away from the window, assessing the pebbles below his crates and a nearby bank of leaves and weeds he could land on quietly. Then he gave a last glance through the window and noticed her hand caressing the water's surface.

A fascinated smile played at her lips. Damn, she was beautiful, and not in some fake plastic surgery and programming way. She was fresh, shiny, new—like she held the keys to paradise.

Fuck, he was drunk. The crates wobbled underneath him and Bane let go of the windowsill with one hand, readying to jump. Really, he was leaving.

Her ivory hand slid up her hospital gown and tugged at the tie. The blue-striped, papery material sank from her shoulders to the floor, revealing a pale, slender body that seemed to shimmer under the bright bathroom lights.

Bane bit his bottom lip to stop from groaning out loud. His hips bucked forward of their own accord. The crates tilted to the side and he grabbed at the windowsill's metal edging to right himself. His arms supported his weight and he trapped the top crate between his legs and pulled the pile back under his body, desperate for one more look. By the time he righted himself, the girl had turned her back on him to step into the tub.

If he'd thought the front of her was nice… Her back was long and delicate, her ass spectacular. Goose bumps rose on her skin and he could almost imagine the feel of them under his fingertips. The girl must have wondered about the water's temperature, because she bent forward at the hips to test it.

His right hand dropped to cup the bulge in his pants. He was a douche and a pervert. And he would jack off to this image for the rest of his undead life. Which, now that he thought about it, would only be a few more days.

Gritting his teeth against his guilt, Bane curved his fingers around his cock and stroked. The girl had tried to sit with her back to him, but realized the faucet poked her and turned around. Now he got to watch her breasts bob in the water. Nice.

She picked up a bar of soap and her eyes widened. Normally Bane hated how newbies wondered at every damn thing—but this girl didn't look stupid. She looked kind, excited, happy. The bar slipped out of her hands into the water and Bane watched as she dove head-first to find it. His hand left his dick to grab at the metal. He worried she might not know enough not to breathe under there.

Her head popped up again and she flipped her ebony mane from her face. A grin split her face. Damp curls of hair framed her cheeks, tangled at her shoulders, licked at her collarbone. She giggled and rolled the soap in her hands. Her eyelids fluttered as she smoothed the cream over her arms and up the long column of her neck.

Bane's fingers traced over his lips as he watched her soap her body. He held his breath, silently urging her hand lower.

She obliged, skimming over the curve of her breasts before sliding her touch down her belly. Her palm dipped below the water and he lost sight of it, but her eyes fell to half-mast and her lips parted. When her arm reached farther, the girl's eyes pressed tight as her mouth made a shape like an O.

Fuck! His legs swung out from under him and his fingertips barely caught on the thin ledge. Bane hung there for a moment, wondering whether to drop to the ground or pull back up. Despite his better judgment, he wedged his toe into a crack in the concrete wall and angled his body to push his torso higher until he once again peered like a letch through her window.

He shouted, finding her face right up to the glass. Her mahogany stare met his—surprised, curious, but not frightened. One corner of her mouth curled up into a lopsided, cherubic smile. She reached out a hand to the window and traced his face. When her fingertips covered his lips, her other hand reached up, stroking her own mouth.

Bane lost his grip, and with a winding thud, fell flat on his ass.

Too Stupid To Live Tuesdays: The Launch!

So I need to get better about blogging regularly. Sure, I blog often, but I don't have regular topics. Hence, I'm starting one now. It's my Tuesday rant-a-thon where I read the New York Times, or listen to NPR, or take out my earbuds in Sturbucks and find dumb sh*t to laugh about publicly. Some folks say you should never go negative, but…meh, some folks say lots of things. And I've never been good at taking advice.

Without further ado, too stupid to live Tuesday!!

1. Mitt Romney

I don't see Americans voting in a Mormon president. I could be wrong about this, but…I don't think I am. The PR's everywhere– both for Mitt and for Mormons in general. (There was a huge "We are Mormon" billboard in Times Square last week.) While I know and like several Mormons personally, there's one truth here that everyone's ignoring…

People HATE when you knock and their door and try to get them to do things, like say, convert to your religion. I know this because I used to do phone surveys where I'd cold-call people. Folks despise that shit. No one who ever received a call from me would consider electing me president.

2. The Green Lantern

WTF is that movie about? No effin' way would I spend $7 for the chance to see Ryan Reynolds take off his shirt. I've *heard* there are plenty of shirtless pics of la Reynolds floating around the interwebz. No need to see him nekkid with green backlighting.

Homoerotic…but not in a good way.

3. TSA

I don't even know where to start. Does it seem to everyone else like TSA is trying to stop people from traveling? The experience of air travel has become more and more humiliating so that I imagine some time in the near future people are going to give up altogether. Probably for the best considering how much fuel planes consume.

I've had two enhanced pat-downs in the past year, both times because I was stupid enough to wear overalls. Neither time was as sexy as I'd hoped.

4. Gold-Plated Chain-Link Fences

So I heard about the existence of gold-plated chain-link the other day. I can't tell whether it's too-stupid-to-live or too-awesome-to-be-believed. Clearly, this product is aimed at rappers and drug lords, but is it weird that I totally want one? Unfortunately, in my neighborhood you'd be begging to be robbed if you put one of these fences up.

Though, if we lived in a slightly more downmarket neighborhood, we might be able to pull it off. Because then passersby would assume we were packing semi-automatics and skeery rottweilers. Hmmm…maybe I'll ask Santa…

And for #5, I list a Too-Awesome-To-Live Article in New York Times Magazine.

This op-ed acknowledges the benefits and drawbacks of strict monogamy in marriage, in light of the recent Wiener scandal. And it quotes Dan Savage, one of my favorite people of all time.*

The font is the best thing about this cover.

Having been born in 1973, I'm from a more promiscuous time. One of the bestselling books the month I was born was Open Marriage. And wow, have things swung the other way since then! But this article gave me hope that people will open up a more frank discussion of the challenges of monogamy. Personally, I'm crazy monogamous and probably wouldn't take a lover even if my husband didn't mind. But I'm thrilled that folks might think more broadly about adult sexuality within the confines of marriage.

Go read. It's awesome. And a lot less stupid than most things.

*I wanna be Dan Savage when I grow up.