Amber Lin's Blog, page 8

Cover Reveal: Giving It Up

I am SO EXCITED, because I officially get to share my cover for Giving It Up with you. Yay, yay, yay!

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I love how it’s dark and gritty and raw and urban and sexy, all of which matches the book. I think what I’m trying to say is: yay!

Pinterest and Piracy

I saw someone mention on an author loop that someone was selling (ie. Pirating) their book through Pinterest. That is not really possible, and so I wanted to give a brief overview of what Pinterest is and isn’t, and how that relates to piracy.

[image error]Pinterest is a site to share and discuss pictures you find online. In the same way you would use twitter to share pithy thoughts or facebook to share updates, Pinterest is for sharing photos you find online. If you’re familiar with tumblr, it’s a similar idea except that tumblr displays the pictures (and posts) chronographically, while pinterest is setup only for pictures and has better categorization/display features.

There wouldn’t be a way to sell anything through the site. Pinterest does keep a link back to the website where the picture was taken from (like as a source), so that might be Amazon or Goodreads, etc. In some cases it might even be a pirating site, but it’s that pirating site that’s doing the pirating. In general, if people are pinning your book that is a Very Good Thing. It’s like a mention on someone’s tweet stream, it means they are recommending your book and another person may come along and choose to buy it. Free publicity = good.

By the way, I am seeing more authors get on Pinterest to make “inspiration” boards. We are encouraged to do so, sort of. It’s the hot new social media outlet! Promote yourself! Pimp your books! But the copyright issues surrounding Pinterest are messy. I’m not a lawyer, and I have only a cursory understanding of this stuff. While the site does link back to the source, that source still may not have permission to use it, nor do you.

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Man candy posted on publisher Crimson Romance's Hero pinboard.

Basically, if you feel very strongly about copyright infringement issues, best to just avoid Pinterest altogether. But then, you also shouldn’t be using source-less pics online (man candy, anyone?) If you get very upset about people pirating your book, then you should probably not be using Pinterest or posting those mancandy pics, etc. Same idea – unauthorized use and distribution.  All the same arguments you could use to explain away why it’s okay to use those pictures (but it’s free exposure! But I wouldn’t have paid for the rights to use them anyway, so no lost income!) can be used to justify pirating your book.

What a fabulous lead-in to the fact that I use Pinterest. I do. I like it. It feeds my love of pretty visuals and my anal organizational tendencies, all at the same time! I am not really sure whether it’s worked from a marketing POV (especially since my book isn’t out yet) but I kinda doubt it. Pinterest is something I do for fun, like growing a flower garden for myself to enjoy, and others may come along to see it if they like.

If Pinterest crashed and burned based on the copyright issues, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’m not expecting that since they do the same as tumblr. They can just say it’s the responsibility of the pinners to verify copyright, which of course none of us do. The internet, and social media in particular, is all about sharing information at very rapid speeds. It’s inevitable that that social media will clash with intellectual property rights, as the law struggles to contain or catch up with social media.

We, all of us, have to decide where we want to sit, from the front row, very strict, or in the back, among the women (and men) of loose copyright virtue. I am trying to sit somewhere in the middle. I’ll let you know how that goes

What about you? Do you use pinterest or tumblr? Are you thinking about it? Do you post “Man Candy” or other pics without the rights? How do you think that compares to piracy?

LYRICS: I know it’s not much…

I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song, and this one’s for you

- Your Song by Elton John

Listen >

Why I Read Happy Endings

If you’ve got a kid, chances are you’ve read him/her the classic Make Way for Ducklings. A daddy duck and a mommy duck go looking through the city for a place to lay their eggs. They setup in a lake, which seems to work out fine. But then the eggs hatch, and the ducklings cause quite a traffic jam as they walk through the streets. So the upstanding policeman makes a crossway for them, and everyone lives happily ever after!

So yesterday, I’m at my dad’s house eating lunch. I look out the window and see two smallish green ducks waddling by. I do a double-take, and wow, like 10 little ducklings are running behind them. Now, there is a lake in the neighborhood, but to get here they would have had to go near a very busy road with many lanes. And they seem kinda lost, just marching to the back of the yard and then huddling in a corner.

I’m thinking we’ve got to do something, so we call the city first, hoping they have some duck-handling staff who can cart the brood back to the lake. No, they say, they aren’t going to do anything. Next we call animal control, who says they specifically do not handle ducks. This takes a while and as my dad is on the phone, the two adult ducks fly up to the fence and look around. I think they were a bit confused about how to cart their kiddos to water, but then they flew away! Maybe they gave up (they seemed kinda young for adults, so this might have been their first go-round) or maybe they were going away to strategize and come back? That part’s probably wishful thinking.

My cat took a bird captive in our house a couple years back, so I knew about a wildlife rescue center in the city. I called in and they told me that since the parents left I had to bring the ducklings in. They need heat and food, and the adults have no way of bringing back food (it has to be foraged) even if they came back, so this has to happen or they will die. Did I mention my 4-year-old was feeling really needy right about then and felt the need to instruct me that as his mother I should be holding him to make him feel better? Eek!

Anyways, I got a box and went to the back for the ducklings. Already there seemed to be less of them, and as I advanced, they all ran through the fence to the neighbors – oh no! So I get the neighbor to open his gate (they all have these metal gates that are locked) and go back there, but they run back through. Okay, this time I close it off and go back to my dad’s yard. And they all run through the other fence. Ack!

Hijinks ensue as I run around like a crazy person. We had all the neighbors out and hunting for ducklings. I even had one guy in particular come to my aid, which would have been a fabulous meet cute if this were a romance novel and I weren’t married and he weren’t whatever, I don’t even know.

But here’s the thing. We found TWO of them. Two ducklings out of ten.

We really, really searched for the rest, but they had scattered throughout the backyards of the neighborhood. And they were so tiny! Here are the two we found:

I felt really bad about the other ducklings, still do. This started off like Make Way For Ducklings but ended… not so perfect. I did take the two ducklings to the wildlife center and they were very sweet there, so I’m sure they will take good care of them. However, there are still many ducklings missing and those two confused ducks flying around. Bittersweet, at best, which is real life.

I have heard some weird theories by people who don’t read romance (or particularly appreciate a guaranteed happy ending) about why I might like them. I must be stupid with an adolescent worldview. Sigh. I read one idea was that said the mores of our society dictate marriage or commitment so strongly that we need that to justify all that smexing. While I don’t agree with that (for me) that’s at least a thoughtful attempt.

But the truth is I see enough sad endings in real life. It’s not that I can’t handle dealing with bad endings, because I have done so plenty of times in my life. I don’t need to turn to fiction for that.

When Dialogue Is Too Realistic

Dialogue is a funny thing. Most often I hear people advise to make it sound real. We don’t want stiff or formal in speech.

“Hello, Jenny.”

“Hello, Greg.”

“It is a nice day today. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Ah.”

But the opposite of stilted dialogue is not perfect dialogue. Instead, the opposite is a kind of realistic vernacular that is uncomfortable to read.

“Hi… Jenny.”

Jenny mumbles something unintelligible.

Greg grunts.

“Oh, I meant to tell you…”

“What?” Greg asks.

Jenny looks up distractedly. “Um…er…crap, I forgot.”

Unfortunately, that last one actually happens to me. Guess which character I am? Mmm hmm.

It’s not stiff or formal, but it’s still not good. That was my problem when I started writing. I would get so involved in the scene in my head that it would play out like real life. And I would justify it that way, too. Good dialogue in fiction is this happy medium. I can’t say I’ve mastered it lately, but the way I improved is to read a lot of dialogue. Not just read it, take it apart.

“Hi, Jenny.”

She looks up. “Did you happen to find anything in your car?”

“What should I have found?” Greg asked, dangling a slinky pair of panties from his finger.

Jenny gulped.

This is the kind of dialogue that is common in books. We jump from the intro straight into an inciting incident. Whether she would normally answer back a greeting in real life, we don’t really care.

Then a question is answered with a question. Not like this always has to happen or anything, but a simple yes or no is not usually going to suffice. Unless you’re trying to make a point that the answeree is stoic, but the point is it all tells the story. Every line should move the story forward and give us a clue to the character.

Recently I read Miranda Neville’s The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton and I loved it! What a perfect example of fantastic dialogue. SO witty.

One of the downsides of learning all this story structure stuff is that I automatically pick things out of books. Ah, look, establishing empathy. There’s the call to action. Yes, the point of no return! But in this book I was so amused by their interplay that I barely noticed any of that writerly setup until it snuck up on me. It was really quite masterful and I highly recommend it.

Do you have any dialogue tricks I can steal and use for my own? Have you read a book recently with fabulous or witty dialogue?

Quiet moments, big shifts

Some big changes have happened recently. My book is getting published, for one. There are other things that have happened in the past couple of months related to my family and the day job. At each juncture I have taken an internal survey. Amber, I say to myself, this is a big-fucking-deal, how do you feel?

But change isn’t always accompanied by fanfare. My 4 year old came up to my the other day and said, “Hey, mommy.”

I said, “What do you mean, mommy? You call me mama.”

He laughed. “I’m not a baby, silly.”

I blame pre-school for this. Evil, evil pre-school, where he learns words like “mommy” and the wonderful phrase “stop it”, which he is prone to yell even if no one’s doing anything.

Another such quiet moment happened earlier this week. Sherry Thomas, of whom I am a massive fangirl, is coming to speak at my RWA chapter in November. *cue happy claps* But the thing is, my manuscript needs some help now, not later. Okay, realistically, probably I’ll have a brand new manuscript that needs help later too.

So when I found out she was speaking at the Austin chapter next week, I figured I would go. Just like that. I thought, I’ll drive up there by myself, attend the meeting, sleep at a hotel and drive back in the morning.

Okay, that doesn’t sound so impressive, maybe, but it was a big deal for me. For one thing, the hubs and I have been attached at the hip for, oh, the past ten years. We HAVE separated for certain events but only when it was mandatory (due to business travel or something like that) (and also one break up period which will not be discussed) (it was a long time ago!). Anyways, this is the very opposite of mandatory.

The other thing I realized was how very serious I’m now taking my writing. I avoided labels in the past. I wasn’t concerned about whether my writing was a “hobby” or a “career”. I even managed to sign up for RWA 2012 without realizing how seriously I am now taking this writing thing. Apparently the trip to Austin tipped the scales.

What I’m trying to say is that they grow up so fast! Babies and manuscripts, I guess. There. I have tied these subjects together with a knot. *pulls tight*

The Aftermath Of Becoming Agented

It’s been a couple of months since I signed with my agent. Initially there is a lot of hullabaloo. OMG, an offer! Celebration! Scrambling to notify the other agents and wait for responses. Introspection. And not just any old kind, frenzied introspection. Acceptance. MORE celebration!

And then it’s quiet.

Oh, I talked to my agent, of course, but for the most part, writing life goes on. Every day, I must find the time, work up the energy, dig into my creativity, to write a couple thousand words and hope they don’t suck. Writing is a very solitary pursuit, and that didn’t change just because I have an agent.

I still work with my critique partners. I still blog, I still tweet.

I started to feel a certain pressure, though, like I should suddenly have 10 manuscripts all finished and polished and wonderful. It didn’t come from my agent, who has been very sweet the entire time. I just look around at all these authors I admire, and the thing is, they’re on book 25. They are talking about backlist and branding and career and long tail and their editors (plural). In fact, there is often a marked difference in quality between their debuts and their current work, to the point that their debuts are tucked in the back corner, never to be read again except by a few die hard fans.

And I was so proud of my one book, there.

Though I didn’t recognize it at the time, I was something of a “senior” in the current class of writers. I had my finished manuscript with some contest finals and positive feedback from industry professionals. I had my little query list with a decent number of full requests.

Without quite seeing myself that way, I strutted those twitter halls with my letter jacket and picked on gently encouraged the underclassmen. Then I graduated, to much pomp and circumstance, from high school only to find myself dumped, unceremoniously, in college.

This is the fishbowl, this waiting place between contract signage and publishing, and even through the first book. Then there’s the sophomore book to contend with, the one they say will make or break your career. And after that? Well, then there’s all the other books I’m going to write.

So I’m feeling very small right now, eyes wide and wondering. That’s the aftermath.

Writer’s Voice and a Choir of Orgasms

I love voice, always have. Before I started writing, I didn’t know what that meant. I would just say, I love so-and-so’s writing. Or, I love everything so-and-so writes!

I once read a quote from Simon Cowell about Kelly Clarkson: “Kelly can sing the phone book.” That’s how I feel about certain authors, like they could write any genre, any plot, and I’d love it.

A great voice can make a story, whereas an interesting story with a bland voice will always be just that: bland. Voice encompasses everything from POV and tense to sentence structures to word choices and more, but hell. That’s so….technical.

What better way to show voice, to really feel it than by example?

So I thought about various books with strong voices, but there was a problem. They would all be describing something different. Plot, setting, characters – all different.

And then hit me, like a wave of pleasure. Oh wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I meant to say was that I realized the perfection example: the orgasm! The moment of climax! La petit mort! There’s a reason why we have all these names for it: because it’s almost indescribable, really. I say almost, because of course, it is described, quite frequently.

Welcome to the orgasm showcase. Or, since we’re analyzing voice here, you might call it the choir of orgasms These authors are all describing the same thing, but they do so quite differently. Pay attention, there’s a quiz later (no joke).

There is a mix of romance and erotica, a mix of male and female climaxes, a mix of sub genres: historical, paranormal, contemporary, etc. Although a sex scene might go on for pages, I tried to include only the passage that included the exact moment of climax and cut the scene right after. Check out word choice, sentence structure, explicitness. Even the length varies: it’s all voice!

So, without further ado, enjoy:

Orgasm 1:

Then she shifted her weight again and kissed him, her mouth warm, her tongue hungry. He lost all control. He kissed her back with the gentleness of an avalanche. His pelvis lifted from the bed despite all her exhortations to stay still. And he came hotly, endlessly, whispering incoherent words of relief and gratitude as he kissed and kissed her.

Orgasm 2:

I didn’t tell him to wait anymore, because I couldn’t speak. Moans I didn’t recognize as my own rose from me with increasing volume and wrenching, twisting spasms of pleasure curled inside me. I writhed under him, feeling him explore every nuance of me with shocking intimacy. My hips arched helplessly, and an aching emptiness inside me grew with each stroke of his tongue. I was being pushed to an edge I’d never experienced before, and it approached faster and faster. Bones increased the pressure, ratcheting up the intensity, and when his mouth finally settled on my clitoris and he sucked, I screamed.

Orgasm 3:

Dimly, he was aware of Ethan’s mouth covering his cock again, sucking him deep and tonguing his jerking shaft. And then the crisis was on him, and he was powerless to stop it. His buttocks tensed and flexed, and his pelvis rocked hard up against Ethan’s lips, thrusting as deeply into the other man’s mouth as he could. He threw back his head and cried out, long and hard, as the unstoppable rus of semen needled up through his cock like a hot, bright wire, shooting from the pulsing tip to splash in violent spurts against the back of Ethan’s throat.

He could feel his whole body convulsing in a powerful orgasm that seemed to go on forever. His channel contracted and convulsed around Ethan’s wicked finger, and his cock jerked and shuddered with the force of each eruption. Reflexively he arched his back and pulled hard against the shirt, letting his hips piston forward again and again as he shot fiercely into Ethan, felt the other man’s throat muscles work his shaft, milking it, as he swallowed.

Finally David lay still, his limbs suffused with languor, his body trembling and twitching in little aftershocks of pleasure.

Orgasm 4:

He stayed with me and surged over and over for the final few seconds until I could join him.

I did. And, again, I screamed.

But what was different about this time was that, though I wanted the release, I didn’t need it. The attachment I’d begun to feel had more to do with an emotion that defied physicality, however pleasurable.

Love?

Love.

Orgasm 5:

Cord pulled his cock out of her mouth and curled his big hand around her smaller one, pumping them together as he aimed and came on her chest. He groaned and closed his eyes, lost in bliss, but he sensed her studying every spurt, gauging his every reaction. Not clinically, but with the intention to learn exactly how to please her lover.

His hand fell to his thigh. He sagged to the cushions. Talk about a fucking mindblower.

Orgasm 6:

I leaned back, hips out, fingers clawed into her ass, holding her against me like some cum-receptacle as my ass flexed and body twitched in powerful contractions, sending my semen shooting in hard, houvy gouts deep into her quivering belly, one after another, each one accompanied by a burst of mind-shattering ecstasy. I could picture the hot white seed splattering her soft pink insides and dripping from her tissues, coating her with my thick ejaculate, and the image just brought fresh bursts of cum boiling up from my balls.

Orgasm 7:

She closed her eyes and opened her body, offering solace and love to equal his own. It hurt after all, but she hid it well, grasping his head and pulling it down for a deep kiss within which she disguised a soft moan. But soon the moan was dictated by pleasure instead of pain. He took her to the tallest tip of a tree, where she poised – a graceful bird at last, trembled upon the brink of flight, then soared for the first time. Becoming one with the sky, she called his name, twisting, lifting, reborn.

 

Now for a quiz! We’ll call this the Where’s Waldo of Orgasms.

Among this bunch there was a historical (one Victorian England, one WWII American), a contemporary erotica, a paranormal, one that can be termed women’s fiction/literary – can you tell which is which based on the voice?

There are a few “first time”s in the mix, can you spot it? One of them features a May-December couple (older man, younger woman), can you find it?

The answers are below… don’t scroll down if you don’t want spoilers!

 

 

 

 

1. Not Quite a Husband by Sherry Thomas (historical romance set in Victorian times)

2. Halfway to the Grave by Jeaniene Frost (paranormal, her first orgasm)

3. The Trap by Indigo Wren (contemporary M/M erotic romance, first time with a man)

4. According to Jane by Marilyn Brant (women’s fiction/literary with romantic elements)

5. Cowgirl Up and Ride by Lorelei James (contemporary western erotic romance, May-December)

6. A Good Student by Elliot Mabeuse (BDSM erotica)

7. Morning Glory by LaVyrle Spencer (American historical, her first orgasm)

So… how’d you do? Were there any that stood out to you and what did you like/dislike about them? Which one did you like the writing best? And possibly a different one, which one was the hottest (read: most arousing) for you?

Lucky Seven from ASKING FOR IT

Hello party people! Ms. Dryden, of the Del Dryden variety, tagged me for Lucky Seven. Kate Meader did not tag me, but we’re not going to talk about that.

All this means I’m going to share an excerpt with you from Asking For It. A specific one: page 77, down 7 lines, and 7 lines/sentences long. That manuscript is currently in edits with Loose Id and will be released in July. July!

And so:

He took me to his bedroom upstairs. I tried to psych myself up. Please him, pay the dues. But all I really wanted to do was have sex with him. I wanted to rip off my clothes, and his. And in my craziest thoughts, I wanted to push his face down between my legs and tell him to do that thing again.

But I just stood there in his bedroom, like I’d never been inside a man’s bedroom before, which was almost true.

He turned down the sheets, but when he glanced back, his eyes softened. “Come here.”

There we are! And now I get to tag 7 people…. I’m trying to think of seven people who I haven’t seen tagged yet, but I’m possibly failing at that. It’s tough! This world, it is small, after all.

1. Annabel Joseph

2. Jennifer Lowery

3. Tori St. Claire

4. Sadey Quinn

5. Casea Major

6. Kitty DuCane

7. Gina Danna (inaugural post, maybe?)

Ta da!

Daddy Porn: Won’t someone think of the men?

A couple weekends ago, I saw the movie John Carter. There’s just no better way to say this: I hated it. I found the costuming and special effects, while beautiful, to be so fake looking, and the acting to be stilted, dialogue stilted. It was so cheesy, and this is coming from someone who actually watched and enjoyed the original Star Trek series!

And another that bugged me was that the female lead: her make up was always flawless and her hair looked fresh from the salon and of course the skimpy clothes, even in the middle of a desert (but no sunburns!). This total lack of realism kept me from enjoying the movie.

So we’re walking out at the end, my husband and I, and I’m getting read yo tear into this movie, like seriously. But turns out, my husband liked it! He thought it was “pretty good”. He thought the special effects “seemed okay”. And, wonder of wonders, he did NOT mind the scantily-clad woman with her perfect make up and perfect hair. She was…. wait a minute, I’m not sure he actually answered that one.

Smart man.

Well, this got me thinking. And, as thinking is wont to do, that led to other things, like conclusions and labels.

See, I don’t find any artistic value in the movie. But that girl… we can all agree she is hot, right? So, *think think*, you know, I’m going to say that ONLY VALUE that movie has is for sexual arousal. This seems totally reasonable to me.

I mean, I can see from all this online hullabaloo in the “science fiction community” that plenty of people do, in fact, find artistic value in this movie. Or, wait a minute, action and adventure community? Is there such a thing as a space opera community!? Gosh, I don’t know, but that’s not going to stop be from passing my giant wang of judgment over the proceedings, oh no!

But they SEEM to be mostly men. Perhaps it would help to generalize them as Male Cubicle-Dwellers of the Flyover States? Whatever. They enjoyed it! They want to discuss it! They want to see a sequel. All of this having little-to-nothing to do with sex. But clearly they are wrong, because I did not see the value and everyone knows I am the Lord of Art.

So, clearly John Carter is porn.

Also, backwards generalizations are always true. If one science fiction movie is porn, then it only stands to reason that ALL of them are.

That is how I came to the conclusion that science fiction is porn.

And not just any porn, mind you. That girl was way hotter than that guy! She spent all her time in skimpy outfits made of leather and sheer materials! She had the emotional complexity of a door! The guy got to have all the fun! No, this is not just generic porn for generic human creatures, this is Daddy Porn. Not StuffHerFull.com, not SuckMyRod.com. No, dammit, this is porn for men.

And this concerns me, because this poor male protagonist, oh my! He was attacked, repeatedly! With spears and swords and alien limbs! This is actual violence against men! (Disclaimer: If you stretch the word “actual” to include “fictional”)

Clearly this is not only morally degrading but also dangerous! We have to do something! Someone rally something! We can’t have menfolk thinking for themselves!

This is my call to action: please join me in my quest to rid the world of science fiction. (It might just be easier to ban all fiction. Put that on the agenda for the town hall meeting.)

Someone think of the men.

Sources:

It’s All Porn To Me: One Man’s Review of 50 Shades of Grey (New York Daily News)
Will Fifty Shades Of Grey Make ‘Mommy Porn’ The Next Big Thing? (Forbes)
Dr. Drew: 50 Shades is Actual Violence Against Women
The entire rest of the internet.

Real Disclaimer: This entire post is my satirical play on the 50 Shades/Mommy Porn debacle. Except for my lack of enjoyment of the movie, that was real. My husband not minding the pretty girl – also fact. The rest of it though: total farce.