Polly J. Adams's Blog, page 48
November 9, 2011
Cover preview: Touched, a tale of paranormal erotica
Now this was nice to come home to! The cover of my next tale of paranormal erotica.
November 6, 2011
What kind of erotica do I write?
Like most good things, erotica comes in many different flavours, and I've certainly turned my hand to more than a few of them.
One of the few guiding principles in my life is the belief that we should be open to experience and not judge those who behave likewise. I like to explore; I like to find out what works for me and doesn't, without prejudging it first. In my erotica, I like to write about that exploration, but it's also fair to say that I write about the kind of sex I enjoy, or at least have tried. Why would I do otherwise?
Areas like BDSM fascinate me, but aren't really my thing. I like the occasional spank, and I like to tie and be tied, but the whole sub-dom thing doesn't really float my boat. So while I have some lovely BDSM friends, I don't tend to explore it too much in my fiction. Or, at least, I haven't yet: as I say, I'm open to experience, and who knows where curiosity might lead me one day?
I like couples sex. I like the challenge of writing erotically about people who are in a relationship. I like illicit relationships, danger, people coping with being judged and living their lives accordingly. I like sex with men and women; I like group sex, but I'm not really that interested in boy-boy. As far as group sex goes, while two girls can work wonders on one man (and on each other!), there's nothing like one girl and two men, as featured in my story
Easy as One, Two, Three
.
And of course, where I say "I like..." this also means "I like to write about..."
I love to talk with my friends about sexual experiences, too, and where I feel able to I write about these (this mostly comes out in the Girls' Club series, and in my first collection of adult tales, You ). I'm very lucky to have friends that not only like to talk about the things I do, but encourage me to capture some of the anecdotes in stories.
Recently, my work has taken a surprising turn, too. With
Letting Go
I found myself writing a paranormal story about a woman who can't let her man go, even after she has died. I had never intended to write that kind of story, but it just came to me and demanded to be written. I'd like to write more of these: intense, steamy stories with a paranormal, gothic vibe.
And now, with The Virgin and the Three Brothers (coming soon), I've written a contemporary story based on classic fairytale ingredients: the rich daughter/princess having to choose between three suitors, guided by her father's PA/good witch. It's fun, and while lighter than some of my other stories it's still as explicit as ever.
In fact, explicit sex is one thing that is common to all of my stories. Some are simply stories about sex; others are more fully-developed stories, but still revolving around sex. I make no apologies for that: I write about sex. It's what I enjoy doing, and it's what my readers enjoy reading. Maybe that's one reason why my work seems to appeal to both men and women. I write what turns me on, and I'm a woman, so I assumed that would be my audience, but so far there seems to be a fairly equal split, which pleases me.
Might that change if I start to write stories that are tradionally more the preserve of female readers? All of my stories so far have been about relationships, and in my non-erotic writing I always tend to return to relationships. I can easily seem myself writing stories in the future that balance the two: erotic love stories.
Will these stories continue to work for men as well as women? I hope so. As I say: I'm open to experience. I hope my readers are too.
One of the few guiding principles in my life is the belief that we should be open to experience and not judge those who behave likewise. I like to explore; I like to find out what works for me and doesn't, without prejudging it first. In my erotica, I like to write about that exploration, but it's also fair to say that I write about the kind of sex I enjoy, or at least have tried. Why would I do otherwise?
Areas like BDSM fascinate me, but aren't really my thing. I like the occasional spank, and I like to tie and be tied, but the whole sub-dom thing doesn't really float my boat. So while I have some lovely BDSM friends, I don't tend to explore it too much in my fiction. Or, at least, I haven't yet: as I say, I'm open to experience, and who knows where curiosity might lead me one day?
I like couples sex. I like the challenge of writing erotically about people who are in a relationship. I like illicit relationships, danger, people coping with being judged and living their lives accordingly. I like sex with men and women; I like group sex, but I'm not really that interested in boy-boy. As far as group sex goes, while two girls can work wonders on one man (and on each other!), there's nothing like one girl and two men, as featured in my story
Easy as One, Two, Three
. And of course, where I say "I like..." this also means "I like to write about..."
I love to talk with my friends about sexual experiences, too, and where I feel able to I write about these (this mostly comes out in the Girls' Club series, and in my first collection of adult tales, You ). I'm very lucky to have friends that not only like to talk about the things I do, but encourage me to capture some of the anecdotes in stories.
Recently, my work has taken a surprising turn, too. With
Letting Go
I found myself writing a paranormal story about a woman who can't let her man go, even after she has died. I had never intended to write that kind of story, but it just came to me and demanded to be written. I'd like to write more of these: intense, steamy stories with a paranormal, gothic vibe. And now, with The Virgin and the Three Brothers (coming soon), I've written a contemporary story based on classic fairytale ingredients: the rich daughter/princess having to choose between three suitors, guided by her father's PA/good witch. It's fun, and while lighter than some of my other stories it's still as explicit as ever.
In fact, explicit sex is one thing that is common to all of my stories. Some are simply stories about sex; others are more fully-developed stories, but still revolving around sex. I make no apologies for that: I write about sex. It's what I enjoy doing, and it's what my readers enjoy reading. Maybe that's one reason why my work seems to appeal to both men and women. I write what turns me on, and I'm a woman, so I assumed that would be my audience, but so far there seems to be a fairly equal split, which pleases me.
Might that change if I start to write stories that are tradionally more the preserve of female readers? All of my stories so far have been about relationships, and in my non-erotic writing I always tend to return to relationships. I can easily seem myself writing stories in the future that balance the two: erotic love stories.
Will these stories continue to work for men as well as women? I hope so. As I say: I'm open to experience. I hope my readers are too.
November 4, 2011
Private Party: another preview
Here's another cover preview, for a new Girls' Club story. This one's the story of a friend of mine who arranged a private party to make up for her husband's cancelled stag do.I appear to be on a little roll at the moment. Having decided not to take part in NaNoWriMo (the national novel-writing month, where authors set out to write at least 50,000 words of a novel during November), I seem to be doing it in short stories instead. It won't last, though: I have too many other deadlines coming up soon. But it's been fun!
November 3, 2011
Cover preview: The Virgin and the Three Brothers
Here's a sneak preview of the cover of my next book:
[image error]
...a very adult contemporary fairytale about a girl who has led a sheltered life, but now must choose one of three brothers as her partner.
[image error]
...a very adult contemporary fairytale about a girl who has led a sheltered life, but now must choose one of three brothers as her partner.
October 24, 2011
Letting Go - a paranormal erotic tale (extract)
[image error]
She went to him in the night.
She heard him moving about the house, sounds drifting downfrom upstairs. The rush and clunk of water in the ancient pipes, the bang ofthe bathroom cabinet, the buzz of his electric toothbrush. She heard all ofthese things, her senses fine-tuned. Alone in the house so much during the day,somehow things had become sharper for her, more intense.
Some things, anyway. Others: dulled, blurred, indistinct.
By the time she reached the bedroom he was flat on his back,the lights out.
He hadn't bothered to draw the curtains and the room was litby the cold blue light of the half moon.
She paused.
The bed was like a landscape in the eerie light. A whitesheet was twisted, half-covering him. His body looked as if it had beensculpted from marble, only a slight rise and fall of the chest betraying theillusion.
She almost turned and left, but she couldn't.
She was drawn to him.
She had to be here.
She had to join him.
*
She lowered herself gently beside him, propping herself upon one elbow so that she could continue to study him.
His head was turned away from her, his dark brown hairlooking black in the moonlight, the stubble thick, several days' worth. Hischest was well-muscled, a thin covering of dark hair stretching from nipple tonipple, up to the notch where his breast-bones met, and down across a bellythat had once been taut six-pack but was now just a little more softly-defined.At his belly-button the hair thickened and then was lost beneath the whitetwist of sheet.
She reached for him, one finger, a long nail making gentlecontact with his chest. She pulled her hand towards herself, drawing the nailthrough his chest hair. He twitched. She hadn't expected him to be so well outof it, so quickly.
Her nail reached his nipple, scratched across it, and hetwitched again, opened his mouth as if to speak, then sighed, settled again.
She moved her finger back to the centre of his chest,dragged the nail down over his ribs, his belly, and finally pushed down beneaththe tangle of sheet.
There, where the hair thickened yet more, the side of herhand came up against the base of his cock. She pressed the flat of her handagainst him, teasing the beginning of his shaft, feeling it stiffen against herpalm.
She heard him moving about the house, sounds drifting downfrom upstairs. The rush and clunk of water in the ancient pipes, the bang ofthe bathroom cabinet, the buzz of his electric toothbrush. She heard all ofthese things, her senses fine-tuned. Alone in the house so much during the day,somehow things had become sharper for her, more intense.
Some things, anyway. Others: dulled, blurred, indistinct.
By the time she reached the bedroom he was flat on his back,the lights out.
He hadn't bothered to draw the curtains and the room was litby the cold blue light of the half moon.
She paused.
The bed was like a landscape in the eerie light. A whitesheet was twisted, half-covering him. His body looked as if it had beensculpted from marble, only a slight rise and fall of the chest betraying theillusion.
She almost turned and left, but she couldn't.
She was drawn to him.
She had to be here.
She had to join him.
*
She lowered herself gently beside him, propping herself upon one elbow so that she could continue to study him.
His head was turned away from her, his dark brown hairlooking black in the moonlight, the stubble thick, several days' worth. Hischest was well-muscled, a thin covering of dark hair stretching from nipple tonipple, up to the notch where his breast-bones met, and down across a bellythat had once been taut six-pack but was now just a little more softly-defined.At his belly-button the hair thickened and then was lost beneath the whitetwist of sheet.
She reached for him, one finger, a long nail making gentlecontact with his chest. She pulled her hand towards herself, drawing the nailthrough his chest hair. He twitched. She hadn't expected him to be so well outof it, so quickly.
Her nail reached his nipple, scratched across it, and hetwitched again, opened his mouth as if to speak, then sighed, settled again.
She moved her finger back to the centre of his chest,dragged the nail down over his ribs, his belly, and finally pushed down beneaththe tangle of sheet.
There, where the hair thickened yet more, the side of herhand came up against the base of his cock. She pressed the flat of her handagainst him, teasing the beginning of his shaft, feeling it stiffen against herpalm.
This story continues in the full ebook, Letting Go, available fromAmazon USAmazon UKSmashwords
October 22, 2011
Paranormal erotica, anyone?
[image error]
This one kind of crept up on me, all unexpected!
My main interest is writing contemporary erotica. Real people. Real places. Things that can and do happen.
It's not that I dislike other genres: I'm a big fan of traditional ghost stories, detective stories, thrillers, fantasies and more. It's just that I hadn't anticipated writing any at this stage in my career.
But then I had an idea for a ghost story. One rationale for ghosts is that they exist because they have unfinished business, they can't tear themselves away from our world after death. There's lots of scope in that to write a story of intense passion about the spirit of someone who just can't let go.
The story almost wrote itself. It's a love story, full of passion. And, of course, full of sex. I'm really quite pleased with it. And the icing on the cake: my publishing partners at James Grieve Press have come up with a gorgeously atmospheric, sexy cover.
Here's what it says at Amazon:
Amazon USAmazon UKSmashwords
My main interest is writing contemporary erotica. Real people. Real places. Things that can and do happen.
It's not that I dislike other genres: I'm a big fan of traditional ghost stories, detective stories, thrillers, fantasies and more. It's just that I hadn't anticipated writing any at this stage in my career.
But then I had an idea for a ghost story. One rationale for ghosts is that they exist because they have unfinished business, they can't tear themselves away from our world after death. There's lots of scope in that to write a story of intense passion about the spirit of someone who just can't let go.
The story almost wrote itself. It's a love story, full of passion. And, of course, full of sex. I'm really quite pleased with it. And the icing on the cake: my publishing partners at James Grieve Press have come up with a gorgeously atmospheric, sexy cover.
Here's what it says at Amazon:
She almost turned and left, but she couldn't.Letting Go is available from:
She was drawn to him.
She had to be here.
She had to join him.
She couldn't let him go.
Ever.
Intensely passionate and erotic... a story of love, loss and sexual abandon, from the author of You and Easy As One, Two, Three.
Amazon USAmazon UKSmashwords
October 19, 2011
Easy As One, Two, Three - an extract
Back in the changing room and God J's chest and arms hurtfrom that last machine!
She stripped, wrapped a towel around herself and took her washbag to theshower.
[image error] Hot water was good, and she stood there for a couple of minutes letting itwash over her. Eyes closed, she remembered his smile, and the way his t-shirtclung to his wiry, fit body.
She took a handful of shower creme and started to rub it over herself,lingering on her breasts. Her nipples were hard and she dragged her fingernails around them, then flicked them with her thumbs. Once, twice... over andover.
She wondered what he was like naked. Neil. His thin, hard body, tightlypacked with muscle. Hairy? Maybe just a few wisps of short hair down the centreof his chest and around the nipples, a thin tangle spreading down from hisbelly button.
One thumb still flicking a nipple, she ran her other hand down over herbelly, found her narrow strip of hair, felt the soft warmth. She pressed herfingers against herself, a steady pressure on her clit, her middle fingerresting gently between her lips.
What was his cock like, she wondered? Long? Broad? How would it feel in herhand? How would he taste?
She started to move her hand against her pussy, grinding her clit with thebase of her thumb while her fingers played with her lips, squeezing and pullingand occasionally dipping inside. God she was wet!
Maybe she would book a fitness assessment with him. That way she'd get awhole half hour of his undivided attention. The gym had assessment rooms justoff the main gym area where an instructor would weigh you, measure your bodyfat, your flexibility, your strength.
She would let him work her hard, do her best to please him.
And then she would ask him if there were any other tests. Anything else theycould measure.
He'd falter, look away, then back again, and there would be a spark of funin his eyes, a glint of mischief. "What kind of thing did you have inmind?" he would ask.
"Well," she'd say, leaning forward so that he couldn't help butstare down her cleavage. "I've been told that I have a suck like a thirstycamel. Can you measure that?"
He'd be taken aback. He'd lean away from her in his chair and laugh and fora moment she would be tempted to pass it off as a joke, but then she would seethe outline of his hard cock pressing against his tracksuit.
"I don't know," he would say. "I don't know how we couldmeasure that."
"I could demonstrate?" she would say, not letting him look away.
She would drop to her knees, run her fingers up his hard thighs, handsclawed, nails raking. She would find his stiff cock and trace its impressivelength with one fingernail.
Dipping her head, she would take the end of his cock through the thin fabricof his tracksuit trousers and press with her lips and tongue and then she wouldwork along its shaft.
His hands in her hair would surprise her and she would think he was tryingto stop her, trying to lift her head, but when she looked up at him she couldsee the urgency in his eyes.
She would hook her fingers into the waistband of his trousers and he wouldraise himself so that she could ease them down. His erection would be strainingagainst his small black shorts and she would pull them down, eager to get athim in the flesh.
Released, his cock would jerk upwards to lie hard against his belly, longand broad and so damned hard!
She would take it in her hands and hold it there while she licked at hisballs, and then slowly she would work her way along the shaft, lingering andnibbling and teasing. At its head, she would press her tongue against theunderside of his glans, the most sensitive part, and slowly start to rock herhead.
She'd be almost as desperate as him by then and she would raise her head andthen descend on his cock, feel it sliding deep into her mouth, filling her. Shewould take as much of it into her mouth as she could and then rise, squeezinghim in her mouth, dragging his aching cock through her wetness.
And... oh... she felt it building deep inside, felt the sudden rush of heatand pressure, the tightening as she rubbed at her pussy and flicked at a nippleand she was coming, hot and hard and wet in the shower, her mind full of Neiland his hard body and his cock buried deep in her mouth. Her knees nearly gaveway, it was so intense, and she had to lean against the wall of the cubicle,gathering herself, getting her breath back, getting her grip.
*
When J emerged from the shower cubicle, towel wrapped aroundher and her washbag clutched to her chest, gym bunny was there. Melissa.
She was wrapped in a towel too, her shoulders and arms glistening with waterdroplets, her short blonde hair slicked down to her head. J met her look, thenturned away, embarrassed, desperately wondering how much noise she might havemade, playing and coming so hard like that.
Would the sound of running water have drowned her out?
Did it even matter?
She glanced back up, smiled, nodded and headed back to her locker. Let gymbunny think what the hell she wanted. But God she felt better for that.
She stripped, wrapped a towel around herself and took her washbag to theshower.
[image error] Hot water was good, and she stood there for a couple of minutes letting itwash over her. Eyes closed, she remembered his smile, and the way his t-shirtclung to his wiry, fit body.
She took a handful of shower creme and started to rub it over herself,lingering on her breasts. Her nipples were hard and she dragged her fingernails around them, then flicked them with her thumbs. Once, twice... over andover.
She wondered what he was like naked. Neil. His thin, hard body, tightlypacked with muscle. Hairy? Maybe just a few wisps of short hair down the centreof his chest and around the nipples, a thin tangle spreading down from hisbelly button.
One thumb still flicking a nipple, she ran her other hand down over herbelly, found her narrow strip of hair, felt the soft warmth. She pressed herfingers against herself, a steady pressure on her clit, her middle fingerresting gently between her lips.
What was his cock like, she wondered? Long? Broad? How would it feel in herhand? How would he taste?
She started to move her hand against her pussy, grinding her clit with thebase of her thumb while her fingers played with her lips, squeezing and pullingand occasionally dipping inside. God she was wet!
Maybe she would book a fitness assessment with him. That way she'd get awhole half hour of his undivided attention. The gym had assessment rooms justoff the main gym area where an instructor would weigh you, measure your bodyfat, your flexibility, your strength.
She would let him work her hard, do her best to please him.
And then she would ask him if there were any other tests. Anything else theycould measure.
He'd falter, look away, then back again, and there would be a spark of funin his eyes, a glint of mischief. "What kind of thing did you have inmind?" he would ask.
"Well," she'd say, leaning forward so that he couldn't help butstare down her cleavage. "I've been told that I have a suck like a thirstycamel. Can you measure that?"
He'd be taken aback. He'd lean away from her in his chair and laugh and fora moment she would be tempted to pass it off as a joke, but then she would seethe outline of his hard cock pressing against his tracksuit.
"I don't know," he would say. "I don't know how we couldmeasure that."
"I could demonstrate?" she would say, not letting him look away.
She would drop to her knees, run her fingers up his hard thighs, handsclawed, nails raking. She would find his stiff cock and trace its impressivelength with one fingernail.
Dipping her head, she would take the end of his cock through the thin fabricof his tracksuit trousers and press with her lips and tongue and then she wouldwork along its shaft.
His hands in her hair would surprise her and she would think he was tryingto stop her, trying to lift her head, but when she looked up at him she couldsee the urgency in his eyes.
She would hook her fingers into the waistband of his trousers and he wouldraise himself so that she could ease them down. His erection would be strainingagainst his small black shorts and she would pull them down, eager to get athim in the flesh.
Released, his cock would jerk upwards to lie hard against his belly, longand broad and so damned hard!
She would take it in her hands and hold it there while she licked at hisballs, and then slowly she would work her way along the shaft, lingering andnibbling and teasing. At its head, she would press her tongue against theunderside of his glans, the most sensitive part, and slowly start to rock herhead.
She'd be almost as desperate as him by then and she would raise her head andthen descend on his cock, feel it sliding deep into her mouth, filling her. Shewould take as much of it into her mouth as she could and then rise, squeezinghim in her mouth, dragging his aching cock through her wetness.
And... oh... she felt it building deep inside, felt the sudden rush of heatand pressure, the tightening as she rubbed at her pussy and flicked at a nippleand she was coming, hot and hard and wet in the shower, her mind full of Neiland his hard body and his cock buried deep in her mouth. Her knees nearly gaveway, it was so intense, and she had to lean against the wall of the cubicle,gathering herself, getting her breath back, getting her grip.
*
When J emerged from the shower cubicle, towel wrapped aroundher and her washbag clutched to her chest, gym bunny was there. Melissa.
She was wrapped in a towel too, her shoulders and arms glistening with waterdroplets, her short blonde hair slicked down to her head. J met her look, thenturned away, embarrassed, desperately wondering how much noise she might havemade, playing and coming so hard like that.
Would the sound of running water have drowned her out?
Did it even matter?
She glanced back up, smiled, nodded and headed back to her locker. Let gymbunny think what the hell she wanted. But God she felt better for that.
This story continues with J's encounter with Melissa and two gym instructors in Easy As One, Two, Three, available from:
Amazon USAmazon UKSmashwords
October 14, 2011
The Girls' Club
Every so often we go for drinks and sometimes a bite to eat. Just a small group of us, rarely more than five or six, usually a slightly different mix each time.
Some of us have known each other since uni, others are more recent acquaintances.
We talk about all kinds of things, but at some point in the evening it always comes back to one topic. Sex. Lack of sex. Lots of sex. Good sex. Bad sex. Sex.
It's a supportive group, and it's fun, and it always gets downright steamy. Sometimes I wonder what people must think: that young couple at the next table, either blushing at some shared reference of their own or because they've heard J talk about her evening with two gym instructors earlier this week; the older ladies, powdered and dressed up and oh so disapproving of P, with her generous cleavage and her oh-so-appropriate use of the f-word; the leering wide-boys drinking Stella and craning to hear more.
The girls know I write, and up to now that's not been an issue. Mostly I write under other names, in genres other than erotica; sometimes a few snippets make their way into my work, but that's to be expected. It's a dilemma all fiction writers face: should we censor what we lift from real life? Should we protect the innocent (and not-so-innocent)?
But with sex it's different. It's more in your face, as it were.
We've talked about it lots, particularly since a friend persuaded me to start scripting adult movies a little over a year ago. Now that I've turned to writing erotic fiction it's become even more a topic we return to.
And recently I realised that, far from closing up and wanting to stop me from borrowing from real life, the girls are intrigued by the possibilities, drawn to them. The thought that I might write about their lives gives them a thrill. It turns them on. With at least two of my friends, I know that the prospect of me writing about their exploits has driven them to explore further, and deeper.
After some discussion, it emerged that, as long as I took care to hide identities, my friends wanted me to write about them and their lives.
The research has been fascinating. (I'm sure other erotica authors would agree with me that research is never a chore!) And some of the stories... Well, I'm having to make judgement calls: sometimes things that have really happened just don't sound believable. Truth really can be wilder than fiction.
I'm enjoying this. And it's Girls' Club again this evening. Now that the anecdotes are starting to flow I can't wait to hear what my friends have to say tonight.
Author's Note:
17th October 2011: the first Girls' Club story, Easy As One, Two, Three is now available, a story of how one woman's fantasy led to steamy encounters with a friend, and then two friends...
Some of us have known each other since uni, others are more recent acquaintances.
We talk about all kinds of things, but at some point in the evening it always comes back to one topic. Sex. Lack of sex. Lots of sex. Good sex. Bad sex. Sex.
It's a supportive group, and it's fun, and it always gets downright steamy. Sometimes I wonder what people must think: that young couple at the next table, either blushing at some shared reference of their own or because they've heard J talk about her evening with two gym instructors earlier this week; the older ladies, powdered and dressed up and oh so disapproving of P, with her generous cleavage and her oh-so-appropriate use of the f-word; the leering wide-boys drinking Stella and craning to hear more.
The girls know I write, and up to now that's not been an issue. Mostly I write under other names, in genres other than erotica; sometimes a few snippets make their way into my work, but that's to be expected. It's a dilemma all fiction writers face: should we censor what we lift from real life? Should we protect the innocent (and not-so-innocent)?
But with sex it's different. It's more in your face, as it were.
We've talked about it lots, particularly since a friend persuaded me to start scripting adult movies a little over a year ago. Now that I've turned to writing erotic fiction it's become even more a topic we return to.
And recently I realised that, far from closing up and wanting to stop me from borrowing from real life, the girls are intrigued by the possibilities, drawn to them. The thought that I might write about their lives gives them a thrill. It turns them on. With at least two of my friends, I know that the prospect of me writing about their exploits has driven them to explore further, and deeper.
After some discussion, it emerged that, as long as I took care to hide identities, my friends wanted me to write about them and their lives.
The research has been fascinating. (I'm sure other erotica authors would agree with me that research is never a chore!) And some of the stories... Well, I'm having to make judgement calls: sometimes things that have really happened just don't sound believable. Truth really can be wilder than fiction.
I'm enjoying this. And it's Girls' Club again this evening. Now that the anecdotes are starting to flow I can't wait to hear what my friends have to say tonight.
Author's Note:
17th October 2011: the first Girls' Club story, Easy As One, Two, Three is now available, a story of how one woman's fantasy led to steamy encounters with a friend, and then two friends...
October 7, 2011
How to sell erotic fiction: four easy steps
1. Write it. Write it as well as you possibly can. Don't write down just because it's erotica. Don't assume that people only want to wank to it so story and character and atmosphere don't matter so much: no one's going to jerk off to a story they don't engage with.
2. Publish it. Either through a conventional publisher, or do it yourself, or use one of the newly-emerging models that are emerging somewhere between the two extremes (although be sure to avoid getting ripped off: new publishing models mean new ways to con writers, a group that has always been easy prey for some).
3. Write more and publish it. Write it better than you did last time. Give your readers no excuse not to get turned on. Give them no excuse not to seek out your other stories.
4. Repeat.
Flippant? No, I don't think so.
Google "fiction marketing" and you'll find all kinds of advice about using social networking to promote your "brand", about careful tagging of your books at Amazon, about pricing and all sorts of other things. None of these are to be sniffed at: long gone are the days when authors could leave the marketing and promotion of their work to others.
But when it comes down to it - and particularly with erotica, it seems - one of the basic factors in success, other than writing excellent erotic fiction, is building up shelf-presence. Give your readers something to come back to when they've liked something you've read.
You might argue that this is all a bit rich coming from an author with only one book of erotic stories to her name (although I have lots of books to my other names!). This is a very good point. But just watch this space. I'd be a fool not to follow my own advice!
2. Publish it. Either through a conventional publisher, or do it yourself, or use one of the newly-emerging models that are emerging somewhere between the two extremes (although be sure to avoid getting ripped off: new publishing models mean new ways to con writers, a group that has always been easy prey for some).
3. Write more and publish it. Write it better than you did last time. Give your readers no excuse not to get turned on. Give them no excuse not to seek out your other stories.
4. Repeat.
Flippant? No, I don't think so.
Google "fiction marketing" and you'll find all kinds of advice about using social networking to promote your "brand", about careful tagging of your books at Amazon, about pricing and all sorts of other things. None of these are to be sniffed at: long gone are the days when authors could leave the marketing and promotion of their work to others.
But when it comes down to it - and particularly with erotica, it seems - one of the basic factors in success, other than writing excellent erotic fiction, is building up shelf-presence. Give your readers something to come back to when they've liked something you've read.
You might argue that this is all a bit rich coming from an author with only one book of erotic stories to her name (although I have lots of books to my other names!). This is a very good point. But just watch this space. I'd be a fool not to follow my own advice!
September 28, 2011
Resources for erotic writers
Here are a few of the links that keep me inspired and motivated. Web resources that help me with the craft of being a writer of erotic fiction, or which make me feel part of that community.
First and foremost, for me, is Twitter. I love it for the little snippets of other people's lives, from what they're working on and what they're selling to what else they may be up to, often in intimate detail! I'd love you to follow me, too.
http://www.internet-resources.com/writers/wrlinks-fiction.htm - this one is absolutely crammed with links to writing sites. You could get lost for days here!
For practical writing, there are lots of resources I use. One I like to dip into is dailywritingtips.com; it's full of useful guidance and thought-provoking material, from the basics to the quite specific. Among my favourite articles here are:
40 Twitter hashtags for writersWriting software34 writing tips that will make you a better writerOn erotic writing, how about these?
http://writinghood.com/writing-business/my-top-10-erotic-writing-tips/ - basic good writing advice, as well as erotic writing advice!http://www.cracked.com/blog/how-to-write-erotic-fiction/And finally, for all kinds of insights into the life of an erotic writer, and indeed, the erotic life of the writer, where would we be without blogs? There are far too many fine ones to mention, but here are some of the ones I follow:
Leota M Abel: http://onehandedreads.blogspot.com/Victoria Foxxe: http://victoriafoxxe.livejournal.com/Lexy Harper: http://lexyharper.blogspot.com/Amelia James: http://trashystreasures.wordpress.com/Rachel Masterson: http://www.sexstoriesx.com/Betty Midnight: http://www.bmidnight.wordpress.com/Sara Pierce: http://indierotica.blogspot.com/Sarah Salari: http://sarahsalari.blogspot.com/Jade K Scott: http://jadekscott.blogspot.com/Sidonie Spice: http://sidoniespice.wordpress.com/Mitzi Szereto: http://mitziszereto.wordpress.com/Sabrina Vance: http://www.sabrinavance.wordpress.com/Alexandra West: http://xandrawest.blogspot.com/Women in Lust: http://womeninlust.wordpress.com/
First and foremost, for me, is Twitter. I love it for the little snippets of other people's lives, from what they're working on and what they're selling to what else they may be up to, often in intimate detail! I'd love you to follow me, too.
http://www.internet-resources.com/writers/wrlinks-fiction.htm - this one is absolutely crammed with links to writing sites. You could get lost for days here!
For practical writing, there are lots of resources I use. One I like to dip into is dailywritingtips.com; it's full of useful guidance and thought-provoking material, from the basics to the quite specific. Among my favourite articles here are:
40 Twitter hashtags for writersWriting software34 writing tips that will make you a better writerOn erotic writing, how about these?
http://writinghood.com/writing-business/my-top-10-erotic-writing-tips/ - basic good writing advice, as well as erotic writing advice!http://www.cracked.com/blog/how-to-write-erotic-fiction/And finally, for all kinds of insights into the life of an erotic writer, and indeed, the erotic life of the writer, where would we be without blogs? There are far too many fine ones to mention, but here are some of the ones I follow:
Leota M Abel: http://onehandedreads.blogspot.com/Victoria Foxxe: http://victoriafoxxe.livejournal.com/Lexy Harper: http://lexyharper.blogspot.com/Amelia James: http://trashystreasures.wordpress.com/Rachel Masterson: http://www.sexstoriesx.com/Betty Midnight: http://www.bmidnight.wordpress.com/Sara Pierce: http://indierotica.blogspot.com/Sarah Salari: http://sarahsalari.blogspot.com/Jade K Scott: http://jadekscott.blogspot.com/Sidonie Spice: http://sidoniespice.wordpress.com/Mitzi Szereto: http://mitziszereto.wordpress.com/Sabrina Vance: http://www.sabrinavance.wordpress.com/Alexandra West: http://xandrawest.blogspot.com/Women in Lust: http://womeninlust.wordpress.com/
