Daisy Harris's Blog, page 45

The Emperor's New Clothes: On the Release of Kindle Singles and the Rise of E-Everything

I've always related to the child in the story, The Emperor's New Clothes. In it, said kid can't figure out why everyone around him sees something that isn't there. I can't remember how the story ends, but I know from real life people hate the poor dufus who points out the obvious. Especially when said person shines a light on facts no one wants to believe.

In 2005, no one wanted to hear that it might not be a good time to buy a house. My family thinks I'm a loon when I talk about climate change. Similarly, whenever bloggers report trends showing that e-books are overtaking print, commenters always cry foul.

While I agree that sales data can be spun a number of ways, the data kinda obviously show that e-books are gaining momentum. And given that, objectively, print sales are declining, it stands to reason…

And this is where people insist on seeing The Emperor's New Clothes. Print books smell better! You can read them at the beach/in the bath/etc. Paper has something to do with apple pie, social justice, the republican party, and abstract concepts of right and wrong.

Print MUST survive, because it's like…um, "better."

Lately I've been thinking about story length and e-books. I prefer to read shorter stories in an e-format than I do in print, and I've been wondering whether the e-shift will engender a trend towards shorter works. Harlequin Spice Briefs, for example, are great for a Sunday afternoon read. Plus, I've noticed several publishing houses run lines for short stories– Nocturne Bites, Lust Bites, etc. Similarly, Ravenous Romance standardizes it's books to a short-novel length and sets it's pricing at $4.99 per book.

So when I saw Kindle's new platform for cheaper, shorter-length non-fiction (aka Kindle Singles) today, I felt vindicated– but also frustrated.

No one wants to hear that e-books will spark a movement to shorter, cheaper books. Sure, the success of Spice Briefs and Lust Bites illustrates the market demand for brief reads. Of course, time and again readers state e-books should be cheaper and argue they won't spend over $4.99 for an e-book from a new-to-them author.

But why listen to numbers, facts, and market research, when 90,000 words at $9.99 "feels" so much better? That stupid Daisy Harris! Doesn't she realize that 90,000 words is a book length dictated by the almighty?

After 38 years living on earth, I've come to realize I'm incapable of seeing The Emperor's New Clothes. I can't force myself to believe something just because I'm supposed to or everyone else does. And because I'm an effin' idiot, I can't stop myself from acting like the kid in the story.

The emperor is naked. He just is. Oh, and in a few years everyone will read e-books.

Sneak Peak! Cupid's Arrow from My Sexy Valentine Anthology!

Looky, looky! It's an excerpt that even members of my immediate family could read! Wholesome.

This sneak peak comes from my story, Cupid's Arrow, in the Sizzler Editions 2011 Valentine's Day Anthology, MY SEXY VALENTINE, available NOW. Buy it here! (It'll also be available on Amazon this weekend. But, shhhh… don't tell anyone I told you!)

**********

So which of you fuckers wants to fall in love?

Cupid Zaleski scanned the twenty-somethings milling around Kirkland's waterfront. Then he rolled down the window of his jacked up Ford F-250, aimed his modified dart gun at a guy with Bieber hair, and sent a tiny arrow sailing at the doofus's ass. He snickered when it met its mark.

Bieber's eyes bugged out. They all did at first.

But I can't love him/her! I just can't!

The pathetic chant of the newly cracked-out. Cupid might have liked to pull over and park– watch the show as the guy realized he was infatuated with his brother's wife, or his gym buddy, or whoever else he'd harbored a passing crush on.

Of course he might just fall for the first woman he saw.

Cupid pulled to a stop behind a line of cars at the intersection and used the opportunity to cock his gun and send a few more well-aimed shots. No one noticed of course, his job was pretty damn easy now that his shit could be cloaked. He fired the blue and green plastic pistol like he was playing Halo, but made sure not to hit any two people too close together. Dosing a crowd drew unwanted attention unless he was at a rave, and the 90's were long over.

Fifteen marks down, he rolled forward a car length. Already his victims looked around with those stupid fucking dazed looks. Unfortunately he still had another 5000 or so to go before midnight on Valentine's Day.

With an elbow on the steering wheel so he could keep his gun trained on the sidewalk, he snatched the cigarette from behind his ear and pinched it between his lips. Another car pulled through the stop, and Cupid gave it a little gas while he reached in his pocket for his lighter.

He lifted his hips from the seat to get his hand past the denim, and his fingers met plastic. He pulled the Bic out, but the thing slipped and Cupid took his eyes off the road to see where it had fallen between the seat and the divider.

Sound exploded, glass smashed, but Cupid's truck kept moving at 5 miles per hour until he hit his brakes. He searched the street in front of him, but didn't see anything blocking his way. The only evidence that he'd hit something was the gawkers on the sidewalk.

He reached to the floor beside the seat, grabbed his lighter, sparked the cig in his mouth, and then opened his door. If he didn't already need a smoke, he sure as hell did now.

Stepping down from the drover's seat, Cupid spotted it– the cutesy Volkswagen Beetle he'd hit. He chuckled. He hadn't hit it so much as driven halfway over it so the front end of his truck looked like a Doberman trying to bone a Chihuahua.

Internet Diet Diary: Day 2

I started an internet diet yesterday. I've decided to turn off my computer's wireless during "business hours" each day. By that, I mean the hours during which I normally get writing done– 10:30 am till about 6:30 pm.

The reason? I've been binging. What started as an honest desire to be more interactive devolved into an obsession that stopped me from actually doing what I'm supposed to be doing: aka writing! The problem with social media, blogs and the rest is there's always more one could be doing: another post to read, or comment to reply to. There's always more promo one could do, or opportunities I just don't want to miss.

But none of that is writing. (Well, the blog posts are writing, but not the type I can sell.) Like most writers, I get anxious and sweaty when I'm not producing words. Words=happy. Books=money (in theory at least.) So if I want to be happy and make money, I need words.

In order to do that, I need to reign in my attention.

More than just time, the internet sucks my attention, and even more importantly– my emotions. I can't believe how much energy I can waste on stupid things like that Chinese Parenting article or some upsetting video on YouTube. Without access to the web– I would never know those things existed, and I'd probably be a lot happier as a result.

Already, my diet has yielded good results. Yesterday I rewrote a problem chapter. Today I'm halfway through another chapter. My mind is clearer, my thoughts more focused.

Maybe after a couple more days I'll manage to not "cheat" by checking mail and Twitter on my cell phone.

Happy Birthday To ME!

So it's my birthday, and to celebrate I'm going to do 80's karaoke this evening with my kids. Because I'm just that cool.

As for my writing life…can I get a do over on January? I swear, this month is getting away from me and I have little to show for it. Maybe it's having two releases only a week apart that's killing me, or that my husband is out of town for 3 weeks, but I've already broken pretty much all my New Year's resolutions.

So when February 1st arrives, I'm going to pretend it's actually January 1. At least that's my plan today. Because it's my birthday, and if I want to bend the laws of time and space, I will!

Cheers!

Stacey Espino on Cowboys, Cowboys, and More Cowboys!

Why settle for just one?

Today I have a guest post by the lovely and talented Stacey Espino. Besides being a fellow Siren author, Stacey chimed in on one of my recent posts where I stated I'd never write contemporary. "Never say never," she said. To prove her point, she offered to explain to me the awesomeness of cowboys. I've never written a cowboy story to date, but after reading her post, I must say I'm tempted…

*****

Why Cowboys? Well, for one, women love them, can't get enough of them. I'll be honest, I never gave them much thought when I started my writing career. I never read a cowboy book until I started writing for Siren-Bookstrand Publishing. Now I've read a bunch of my friends' westerns. My first published book was about Demons—hot, sexy Demons…but not cowboys. I love, love, love reading paranormal romance, so I wrote what I enjoyed because writing is an escape for me.

My cowboys are hot! They have bodies to die for and a "don't f*ck with me" attitude. Most are damaged, afraid to let go and love a woman. They're not afraid of hard word and getting dirty. Think faded blue jeans, cowboy hats, thick leather belts, ripped abs, and golden skin…sigh.

I said I'd never write a ménage, swore I'd never do it. But it's so true that you can never say never. Once you do, it's almost guaranteed to come back and slap you in the face. One day I decided to have a little experiment, a personal writing challenge. Could I write a convincing ménage? Could I embrace my dark side and get raunchy enough to hit the Sextreme Heat Level? So I wrote my first ménage book, Saving Grace. It was my first attempt, so I wasn't totally comfortable with multiple partners yet…which is why Grace ended up with only one man. My comfort zone again.

I let it all go when I wrote Damaged Cowboys, one of my most loved books by readers. I surprised myself at how much I enjoyed creating a world filled with hot cowboys, ménage sex, and a country setting. It brought me back to my childhood days (minus the foursome sex). Next came Cowboy Domination, and my newest, Catch Me If You Can.

I started writing cowboys because they were in demand, and writing is my career. But once I started, I couldn't stop. They're just as bad-ass, dominant/alpha, and muscled as a Demon in a paranormal. The difference? They're real. The fantasy is that much more believable because western romances are usually contemporary.

I'm working on a sequel to Saving Grace at the moment. It'll have multiple view points, rather than one, and focus on three characters from the first book. It's fun revisiting that world as an experienced ménage writer. It's going to be a wild ride!

Thanks for having me, Daisy!

And thanks for visiting, Stacey!

Five Reasons to Read Erotic Romance Today!

1. Your husband or boyfriend will thank you!

Studies show time and again that women who read romance have better and more active sex lives than women who don't. But what if you don't wan't to have sex with your husband? I promise you, after reading one of my books, you will.

2. E-Readers make reading smut discreet and fun!

You could be reading Foucault, or Harry Potter. No one will know.

3. A way to rebel!

Remember when you were a teenager or college student and you snuck Anne Rice's Beauty series into your classes? Well now you can do the same with your Nook at a PTA meeting!

4. An everyday escape.

Let's face it– none of our lives are all that exciting now that we're married, have kids, and are saddled with a mortgage. But what are you going to do, leave your husband and run off the the Caribbean with a guy named Nico? Of course not! It's way cheaper and far less emotionally taxing to read romance! All the excitement, none of the divorce lawyers!

5. Because you deserve a break!

When was the last time you did something fun, just for you? And I don't mean going to the gym or cooking a favorite dish, I mean something frivolous and selfish? We wives and mothers take precious little time to ourselves, and you know what? Too much of that behavior and we turn into sourpusses. Have some fun! Cheap, meaningless, imaginative fun!

So I welcome, encourage, and implore you: try erotic romance today! Your husband, your kids, and most importantly, your vagina will thank you.

In Defense of Staring into Space

Writers like word counts. This I have discovered in my brief experience as an author. I've gone through phases with my words per day, sometimes aiming high, sometimes low. Last summer and fall I had a 1000-word-per-day-minimum rule. It was OK.

But lately I'm taking a different tack. I contracted my first few books without giving a lot of thought to marketing or planning or bookkeeping. So when the end of the year hit, I realized I had a million things to do and I should probably get around to doing some of them.

I got up a new website, I paid bills and filed, I got a few guest posts set up. I wrote a free-read. In short, I have done *nothing* about writing a new book to sell in several weeks. Heck, a lot of writers I know would have written a whole book in that time!

Yesterday, I planned to get back in the saddle with a re-write of my WIP from last fall. I meant to hunker down, re-write a chapter a day till I was done, revise, and send. Then start a new book. Like a good hardworking author.

But my kid was sick, and my husband was out of town. And y'know what, I just wasn't feeling it. So I didn't.

I've noticed lately that sometimes the longer I want to start a project the faster I manage to write it. More importantly, the longer I allow a story to gestate in my mind, the better it is! So instead of hunkering down when I had a couple hours to myself yesterday, I had a scotch and stared out the window.

I didn't take notes, or search online, or draw maps. I just imagined stuff that might be cool. I pictured the story, the characters. I tried out ideas without committing them to paper. As a result, I came up with a BADASS idea. In fact, I was so excited about said idea I called my agent about it, and she said we might be able to pitch and sell it based on a synopsis or partial.

It was an effin' awesome idea. Really, I'm still squeeing.

And I never would have allowed myself that level of imaginative freedom if I had forced myself to get words on paper.

There's a time to hunker down, and a time to stare off into space. How do you find the balance?

Ten Things I'll Never Write

In keeping with my negativity theme of late, I decided to make up a list of things I don't write, won't write, and at this minute think I'd never write. Granted, if you asked me two years ago if I'd ever write romance, I would have shouted, "Hell no!" so clearly my declarations aren't worth the screen they're written on.

Still, I needed content and this is what I came up with.

So here we go!

1. Young Adult

I don't know if I thought like a young adult when I actually was a young adult, and I certainly can't get back in the mindset now. Or perhaps "don't want to" is a better term. Heck, adolescence was bad enough the first time around.

2. Contemporary Romance

Contemporary romance is not my thing. If I were to branch out from paranormal romance, I'd more likely land in urban fantasy than in another sect of the romance genre.

3. Inspirational

Ick. I have nothing against religious folks, but people talking about God too much creeps me out. Oddly, I find religious beliefs more private than peoples' sex lives. So much so that I wish our politicians would stop sharing their religion with me all the time. I'd rather hear about their latest blow job.

4. Historical

Too much research.

5. Amish

Too much research

6. BDSM

OK, I'm not 100% sure about this one, but probably not. My reasoning is thus: I like my romance-novel sex to be fantastical. BDSM isn't fantastical– I could actually go out and do it if I wanted. Clearly, I'm not that motivated, since I haven't gotten around to it– y'know in between tweeting and writing smut and all.

7. Poetry

I promise you, my readers, I'll never attempt to publish a book of poetry. Unless it's naught limericks. Or song lyrics set to the tune of Copabana.

8. Mysteries

I can't stand mysteries, have no interest in them. I particularly dislike them if there are police involved. But then again I'm not a fan of CSI or those other crime drama shows.

9. Gardening

I lurve reading gardening books, but could never imagine writing one. They're sure pretty though!

10. Sweet Romance

I can't write love without sex and I can't write sex without love. To me, the two are irrevocably interconnected.

What about you? Won't don't you write? What could you never even consider?

Ten Things I Hate in Erotica

I know I'd catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but who the heck wants more flies? I know I don't! Certain trends have been annoying me in erotica lately. Since I'm feeling ornery today, I thought I'd list them, in no particular order:

Look at the size of it!

1. Menage à millions

I'm tiring of the menage trend. Not all menages. Some are great. In fact, I just read a good one (Behind the Duke's Door) this weekend. However, precious few men want to share their women with a horde of other dudes. My disbelief only stretches so far.

2. Cock worship

How much detail do I really need to have about the hero's dick? Seriously. If I look back on the men I've seen naked in my life I couldn't pick their peens out of a line-up.

The placement of the veins? The shape of the head? The detailing? Meh, who cares?

3. Shock as titillation

It's 2011. Nothing shocks me!

I come across things in erotica from time to time and say, "Huh, I didn't know you could do that." However, those instances fascinate me on a scientific level, not a sexual one.

4. Autobiography

My skin crawls just thinking about it. If you love it, good on you. Me hates!

5. Exposition at the time of orgasm

Have you ever read a story where a character at the pinnacle of climax starts thinking about their mom? Or dad? Or experiences in high school? Um, yeah.

6. Heroines who screw without feeling (or think they can)

Engaging in intercourse with a person changes your feelings about said person, for women at least. That's part of what makes sex so dangerous, and exciting. When a heroine screws a guy and has no feelings whatsoever about it, I lose faith in her self-awareness.

7. Double standards

The unspoken cliche that heros need to be stallions and heroines virgins pisses me off no end. Men who fuck everything that isn't nailed down are not normal. They have issues, or at the very least something to prove.

Similarly, thirty-something females don't stay virgins for no reason.

They need a reason! Not a sorry-ass, circumstantial reason– an effin' serious, heavy, emotional reason! That reason could be deep and abiding religious faith. I'm not against that! But the happens-to-be-a-virgin-at-thirty thing is dumb. And sexist.

8. Born-again virgins

This cracks me up! I keep seeing stories in which the heroine has not had sex in X number of years, and hence is "like a virgin." *Cue Madonna*

9. Word repetition

I once read "ass" five times on a single page of erotica. No one needs to hear "ass" that many times. "Ass" looses it's "ass"-ness with repetition. G-d created euphemisms for a reason. Use 'em!

10. Bad writing

I can roll with just about anything if it's well-written. Blood play? Sure! Menage with 100 guys? Of course! Born-again virgin heroine and her enormous-cocked stallion hero? Awesome! But if the writing is bad, all I see is the flaws.

Here endeth the rant. Stones have been placed nearby for your convenience. Hurl them at your leisure.