Harper Bliss's Blog, page 42

My Ten Day Challenge – Day 3

I made it home in a rather messy state around 2 a.m. last night, but managed to awaken quite refreshed at 9 a.m. this morning. (My liver’s had a lot of training. It knows how to purge quickly and efficiently.) I started my first session at 10.30 a.m. after some strong coffee and two litres of water. To my surprise, my brain was not resisting too much, and I easily produced 1200 words by noon.

After going out to grab some lunch and re-watching a bit of The Fall (I can only watch it in the day time. If I watch it in the evening the nightmares come!), I sat back down at my computer around 2.30 p.m. and wrote another 1200 words. At four I had a Skype date with Mrs Bliss, and now I’m writing this blog post.

I would have been happy if I’d only managed 500 words today (so easily pleased, these days), so I consider 2400 a success. I have another dinner to go to tonight, though. And a drinks party before… But, meanwhile, the novella is going well.

Earlier on Skype, I told my wife that I think it’s going to be a rather dramatic and lesbian one (as if there are any others). Now that I’ve fully established the two main characters, one of them seems to have a pretty dark secret in her past. Let’s just say, it’s going to be fun to work through that… (Lesbian processing alert!)

This novella is written in the same style as the High Rise series, meaning alternating third person points of views. It’s set on the tropical Thai island of Samui and the sunsets make for a lot of brooding but hot moments. The first few thousands words are always more of a search, but now that I’m past that and I know where it’s going to go (and how I’m going to get there) in my head, the fun begins.

Let me end this with a big thank you to all of you. Writing these daily blog posts has made me realise how incredibly lucky I am to be able to do this job (which, to me, is the best job in the world.) (And not even a job, really.) ♥

The numbers:

Day 1: 1000 words

Day 2: 3600 words

Day 3: 2400 words

Total: 7000 words

P.S. I’m a guest on Lisabet Sarai’s blog today, talking about I Still Remember and you can win a copy!

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My Ten Day Challenge – Day 2

One is never too old to learn, I guess. Today I learned that when I get up, just use a little bit of brain power to perform some basic morning tasks, and start writing immediately without faffing about on the internet for at least an hour while drinking coffee, I can get so much done.

I got up at 7 and started writing at 7.30 a.m. I had some errands to run this morning (and I had to leave the flat for a little while in order to not go insane) and by the time I left around 10, I had written 1300 words (which were all written before 9 a.m. I must add, but then I had to catch up on Facebook and the crazy vortex of internet gossip, so yeah.)

I did all my errands on foot, which took a bit longer, but October in Hong Kong is gorgeous and finally allows for some casual walking as opposed to frantically-wiping-away-the-sweat walking.

I was back at my computer by 2 p.m. and with a few short breaks in between wrote until 5 p.m., which resulted in another 2300 words. That’s a grand total of 3600 words today. Not bad at all considering I was out of the house for a big part of it.

So, today was an excellent writing day and I know exactly what made the difference with yesterday. As old-fashioned as it may sound, the key factor here was sleep. The night before I slept badly, still adjusting to sleeping alone, having too much room in the bed (which is quite ironic since our bed is way too small and I always end up on my wife’s half when she’s here).

The conclusion is the following: in order to reach my word count, I need to sleep well. In order to sleep well I need to NOT sit on my lazy backside all day (quite hard when you’re a writer suffering from internet addiction.) I knew I had to do something to tire my body as well as my brain last night. I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I did 100 push-ups, so yeah. (*)

Anyway, I’m ‘quite’ confident I can meet my goal, if I can have some big days next week. I fear the worst for this weekend, though. I’m going to a dinner party at a friend’s house tonight and this particular person firmly believes that from a single bottle of wine one can only serve three glasses. (Yes, most of my friends are borderline alcoholics, but it’s what we call the Hong Kong Lifestyle.)

I know from experience that a hangover equals zero words written, but we’ll see. I’m cutting myself some slack though because, well, I don’t really know why.

Until tomorrow (hopefully!)

The numbers:

Day 1: 1000 words

Day 2: 3600 words

Total: 4600 words

(*) Disclaimer: these push-ups were performed in the course of an hour and not in one go.

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My Ten Day Challenge

So, here’s the deal. Mrs Bliss (aka the wife) is abroad for the next ten days. “Fine,” I said. “Finally some peace and quiet around here. I’ll take the opportunity to write a hefty novella!”

Practically, this translates into 30.000 words in ten days, which, in turn, makes a neat 3000 words per day. Without spousal distraction (aka watching Downton Abbey together) it should work. 3000 words per day is nothing too heroic and once I know where I’m going with the story, it sounds rather doable.

For motivational purposes (aka procrastination) I’m going to keep a public record of my progress on my blog. (Yes, I’m very much inspired to do this because of Dean Wesley Smith’s Writing in Public blog posts!) Don’t worry though, I won’t bore you with the details of my life on days that I haven’t managed to write any words (which may actually be more interesting days since I won’t spend them behind the computer, but alas…)

Today was day one and here’s what happened.

I woke up at 6 a.m. because I’m a morning person the bed was too empty. I do tend to work better in the morning though, as my brain seems to fry after dark (which is very early in Hong Kong.) I sent some e-mails and caught up on all the celebrity gossip. (Yes, I think Jamie Dornan is an excellent choice. No, I didn’t finish the book(s), but I do want to watch the movie.) I wrote a guest blog I had forgotten about and drank this.

Writer essentials #1

Then, I faced this.

The blank page… oh, horror.

As you can see, the working title for this novella is Summer’s End. The page didn’t stay blank for long, but it didn’t exactly fill up very quickly either. I had a vague idea for this story, but no character names or background yet so I spent some time figuring that out. By lunch time I had amassed a staggering amount of 500 words. No worries, I thought. I’ll catch up after lunch (aka watching the finale of The Great British Bake Off.)

But, because I’d woken up so early, I felt as though I had deserved a nap. After my nap I once again excelled in my domain of expertise: procrastination. (Oh, how doing laundry can seem so appealing at times.) I finally sat back down to write around 3.30 p.m. and managed another 500 words. Then the internet was there and I felt I had missed out on everything again and I went on a click frenzy and landed in the time warp… and then my brain started to fry, so I decided to write this blog post instead.

The final total for today is 1000 words. Not a disaster because the beginning of every new story is always a bit hesitant. I know I’m a slow starter and today was more about sitting down and figuring out the story, which, in between procrastination, I did manage to do. But I do hope tomorrow will be better in terms of word count, if not, I fear the worst…

I’ll keep you posted!

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Hump Day Hook: I Still Remember (3)

This week’s Hump Day Hook is yet another snippet from I Still Remember. It takes place on the massage table, just as things start to heat up…

Her fingers knead the flesh of my back and shoulders. Up and down they roam for minutes on end and—despite myself and the feverish thoughts crashing through my brain—I’m about to reach that state of zen-like calm, of shutting off the world and just returning to myself. But then it happens. Her finger brushes against the side of my breast, which protrudes a bit as I lay on my belly.

Amy doesn’t apologise, she simply continues, but it feels as if my life has just changed considerably. As if the world has shifted and new possibilities have been born. This happens all the time during massage therapy, of course. The number of times Raj has accidentally brushed his fingers along my breast equals the number of times I haven’t cared an iota about it. But the furtive skating of Amy’s finger along my skin there feels more like a promise. An opening. Maybe a declaration.

Both of her pinkies glide along on either side now, and I never before realised how sensitive my skin is there. Maybe this is just the way she does her job. Or maybe she has a few buried emotions rising to the surface as well.

Every time her fingers dip a little too low, a flash of heat tumbles through my bones, all the way from my spine to my toes. Goosebumps have made way for hot flashes and then—oh no—an involuntary moan escapes me. I snap my mouth shut as soon as it happens, but it’s too late. I’ve given myself away. I lay there dying a little bit, my face pressed into a hole, my eyes fixed on Amy’s toes. Her nails are painted a deep red and—I may be losing my mind by now—it’s the most beautiful colour I’ve ever seen.

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Hump Day Hook: I Still Remember (2)

This week’s Hump Day Hook is another snippet from my newly released novelette I Still Remember. As this story deals with revisiting a teenage crush, it contains a few flashback scenes and this is one of them.

We’d been swimming in a small pond behind Amy’s house. It was cordoned off from their garden by a bunch of pine trees and, as the afternoon progressed, the sun dipped away behind the trees, leaving us with early evening shadows. We were wet from the water and the sky was the colour of summer: blue streaked with soft yellows and dashes of pink I never understood. The colours that would forever remind me of Amy.

It was the height of my crush on her, a few weeks before we’d leave high school forever. All my energy went into trying to keep my eyes off her as she adjusted her bathing suit while we let the last of the heat dry our skin. I tried so hard not to look at her that all I did was stare in the distance.

“What’s wrong, Eli?” Amy playfully pinched me in the side, catching me by surprise. I swathed her hand away as if it were a vile mosquito, quickly regretting my impulsive reaction. To mask the turmoil ripping me apart inside, I shot her a quick grin before rolling on top of her and pinning her arms above her head.

I stared down at her, every cell in my body tingling. Her dark eyes smiled up at me and a surge of something I couldn’t control swelled inside my gut. I closed my eyes for a second and saw what was going to happen next. I was going to lean down and kiss her. I saw myself do it on the back of my eyelids. I could almost taste her lips and smell beyond the heady mixture of sun and lotion on her skin.

When I opened my eyes, it seemed as if hours had passed, but it was still the same Amy squirming below me on the grass. It was the same pond giving away its summery sparkle to the falling darkness. Amy’s eyes were still the same mocha brown and her hair the same shock of wild curls, but I had changed. I’d never come so close and suddenly I realised it was the closest I would ever get.

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NEW RELEASE: I Still Remember

I, I still remember

How you looked that afternoon

There was only you

I Still Remember by Bloc Party is one of my favourite songs because of the simple, pure and direct emotion the first lines evoke every single time I listen to it. One day I was walking down the street with my headphones on, listening to a random playlist, when it came on, and instantly I felt it again. A connection to the lyrics and the melody and the immediate nostalgia the song provoked, and I knew I wanted to capture that emotion in a story. That bittersweet feeling of reminiscing about the first teenage crush that mattered, the one that changed everything and, perhaps, made you realise something about yourself. That’s what my new novelette I Still Remember is about.

While this story definitely breaks my record of erotic scenes per book, it’s also fiercely romantic and every sexual act has a strong emotional root. I enjoyed writing it so much and I can only hope that joy found its way onto the page. It has all my favourite elements: lesbians, nostalgia, a massage and lots of feelings. (But no blouses open at the throat this time, sorry. ;-p)

Here’s the blurb:

Successful news anchor Elise returns to her hometown after running away from a love she couldn’t understand nor act upon twenty years ago. When she bumps into her old best friend Amy, the one she had to get away from, all that was left unspoken bubbles to the surface and they revisit the past in more ways than one.

And you can get it from these retailers:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon DE

Amazon CA

Smashwords

All Romance

Direct from author

buy

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Special Guest: Alison Tyler

Admittedly, I’m one of many erotica authors who tend to read non-erotica books for relaxation purposes, but, when Alison Tyler‘s Dark Secret Love was released, I more than happily made an exception. I read it as I got back from Belgium and was suffering (as I always do) from a severe case of west-to-east jet lag (the worst). Needless to say, it did not help me sleep, at all. For several nights in a row, I stayed up until four devouring this book. It’s that good. Why? There’s the biographical aspect, of course. (But more on that later from Alison herself.) When the empress of erotic literature writes a book about her sexual journey towards submission, I want to read it. (It’s only human nature.) Then there’s the simple fact that Alison can pack so much emotion in a single sentence, my mind gets blown at least three times per page.

I know most of you stumble onto my blog looking for lesbian erotica, but trust me, you don’t want to miss this one. Dark Secret Love is literary erotica of the absolute highest order that will have you on the edge of your seat and wonder (more than once): did this really happen? Now let’s hear what Alison herself has to say about her love of memoirs and writing ‘truth’.

Like Pouring Cream

By Alison Tyler

I didn’t actually know I was addicted to memoirs until I looked at my bookshelf once and thought, “Oh, my god. I’m addicted to memoirs.” Moab is My Washpot by Stephen Fry. Wrecking Crew by John Albert. Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain. Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl. The Prizewinner of Defiance Ohio by Terry Ryan. The Time Bandit by Andy and Johnathan Hillstrand. These are battered books I return to repeatedly. They help me. They whole me. I don’t really know how. I don’t really know why.

How much of what you write is true? People ask this all the time. Sommer Marsden recently tackled the question in a post on this topic. The fact is, I do often put truth into my fiction. But in Dark Secret Love, I have to say, I put fiction in my truth.

And you know what? Truth is hard.

On the night of our first date, as we walked through the darkness near my house, he stopped and pressed me up against the side of a parked car. “What’s your secret fantasy?” he murmured, so soft against my skin. “You can tell me, baby. You can tell me anything.”

My goal, my dream, my deepest desires have always rested in taking it. Lowering my head, gritting my teeth, and bearing the pain, the humiliation. But I couldn’t tell him that. I stared at him in the glow of the streetlight, and then looked down. Brock instantly tilted my face to his. “When I ask you a question,” he said, his voice more stern now, “I expect a response.”

A delicious chill ran through me.

I hadn’t needed to say a word.

Brock understood. He was on me in a heartbeat, and he never let up.

There were days I had to wear long-sleeved shirts to cover the evidence that I’d spent part of the weekend cuffed to his bed. There were days that I couldn’t sit right in class, that I stared up at the board, or tried to focus on the discussion, but saw nothing, heard nothing.

He made me talk eventually. I didn’t get away with coy glances, with wishful, wistful expressions. He tied me down and asked his questions, and he forced me to answer every single one.

I was on that date. Oh, seventeen million lifetimes ago. I was that girl with the man who knew. Nostalgia can hit me when I smell smoke because of him. No, I don’t want to go back. I would never go back.

But truth—finding your truth, sharing your truth—is hard.

Yes for this series, I added the fiction, like pouring that stream of pure cream into your coffee. Of course, my readers will know—I take my coffee black.

Alison Tyler has written for publishers including Cleis, Harlequin, Black Lace, Plume, Masquerade, and Go Deeper. Her most recent novel is Dark Secret Love. The second in the series, The Delicious Torment, will be released in January 2014. Visit alisontyler.blogspot.com for 24/7 caffeine and snark.

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Hump Day Hook: I Still Remember

Obviously, I’m very fond of all the stories I write but, sometimes, when it feels as if I don’t have to write it, as if the story is basically creating itself and all I have to do is pound my fingers on the keyboard and let it flow out, a special one comes along. That’s how it felt when I was writing I Still Remember. It’s nostalgic and hot (I broke my record of lady-loving scenes per story!) and it’s my wife’s new favourite. Here’s a snippet for today’s Hump Day Hook. I Still Remember will be released next week. (Send me an e-mail if you want an ARC in return for an Amazon review.)

“Eli?” Amy’s voice never really suited her until now. It was always the voice of a grown woman with endless legs, strong hands, and pronounced collar bones.

“Sorry. Miles away.” I take the cup of tea she hands me and, awkward as I feel, sip from it immediately. The tea is scalding hot and I burn the tip of my tongue but I don’t say anything.

Amy looks at me over the rim of her cup while she, wisely, blows on it to cool the liquid. Her eyes radiate a softness I don’t recognise. But we are different people now, even though I feel myself slipping into my teenage skin again—and adoring Amy silently. Me, of the endless chatter on TV, the never-ending banter I’ve made a career of. A few minutes with Amy and I’m sixteen again.

“Why don’t we get on with it.” She places her cup on a small table next to the chair she sits in, one leg folded over the other. She looks at me, her eyes almost watery now, and in that one glance I see it. In that instant, I realise she always knew. “I give a mean massage, even if I do say so myself.” She erases the moment with a quip and a smile and I don’t know what to think.

The words ‘massage’ and ‘Amy’ seem to flash in my mind in big red letters. My brain can’t process the two of them together, as if it has neatly shelved any physicality away from the memory of Amy.

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My To Do List

I’m back in the lovely (finally less humid) SAR of Hong Kong. I’m rather jet lagged at the moment, but nothing a few cups of coffee in my own private mug won’t fix. After spending two very noisy but giggly weeks with old friends, family and the cutest little nephew on the planet (everyone says that about their own nieces and nephews, right?), I’m ready to get back to ‘work’ (is it work when it’s so much fun and orgasms get dispensed so easily?) Also, did you know that in less than three months it will be Christmas again? Some days, it feels as if I’m still recovering from last year’s festivities…

Here’s what I have planned for the last quarter of 2013:

- Getting my new novelette I Still Remember ready for publication. I finished the first draft before I left but the story wouldn’t leave me alone so now I have to add a bit more sexy goodness to it. I do have a cover already. (It looks rather instagram-ed, but it’s not. It’s just nostalgic.) I Still Remember should be out by mid October and I may want to try doing a blog tour for it. If you have a blog that likes lesbian erotica, do let me know!

- A few people have written to me to let me know that they love my stories so much they wished they’d be a bit longer (which is really a great way of putting it. Thank you!) I Still Remember will already be quite a bit longer than my other novelettes, but, for Christmas, I want to give you a story long enough to really sink your over-worked teeth into. The plot is already percolating in the back of my mind (cougar alert!) and I want to write this ‘petite novel’ (which is just a posh way of saying lengthy novella) during a ten-day time span when my wife has to go back to Belgium. I will be tweeting and Facebook-ing (and maybe even Instagram-ing) about this so you can follow my progress. The idea is to write approximately 4000 words every day while the missus is away. (This is a lot for a pathological procrastinator like me!) But, of course, more on that when the time is nigh.

- Around Christmas Ladylit will also release another mini-anthology with stories from the same amazing authors whose tales appeared in Sweat.

- In between we will also be looking for a new apartment and moving house AND move the Harper Bliss/Ladylit/A Hotter State ‘desk’ out of the corner of our bedroom (not that it’s not inspiring) into a proper office.

- Time permitting, I’d also like to release a 12 piece short story collection bundling all the stories I have out (and have the rights to) plus a few new ones before the end of the year.

- Well, I think I’d best get cracking!

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Victoria Blisse’s 100th Sunday Snog!

What better reason to celebrate than Victoria Blisse’s 100th Sunday Snog? Not only is it a joyous occasion, but kissing is also one of the greatest joys in life. Celebrations without giveaways are, of course, not festive enough, so I’m giving away a free copy (ebook – any format) of my novelette A Hard Days Work to a lucky commenter. The snog excerpt below is from A Hard Days Work as well. Enjoy! And don’t forget to kiss someone today.

After what feels like three hours of running, but must, in reality, not be more than a good thirty minutes, I’ve fallen behind a little. It gives me a good view of Amanda’s flexing calves and sculpted shoulder line. Her right arm is a bit wider than her left, indicating hours of tennis practice.

Then, all of a sudden, she stops. I breathe heavily when I reach the secluded spot she chose to halt our run at. My white tank top is completely soaked through and the muscles in my legs tremble.

“Are you all right?” she inquires. Her brow is coated in sweat, but there’s no sign of a blush on her face. “I didn’t mean to go so fast, but sometimes I stop thinking when I run and I just go for it.”

I take a few deep breaths. “That wasn’t five miles, was it?”

“No.” She plants her palms against a tree and starts stretching her legs. “I made an executive decision to cut our run short.”

I arch up my eyebrows. “Oh really? Why’s that?”

“Come on, stretch,” is her only answer.

I take position at the other side of the tree. It’s thin enough to not obstruct too much of my view. Amanda’s top is sufficiently drenched for me to see how hard her nipples are. I mimic her stretching movements, which gives me a good excuse to keep my eyes on her.

“Turn around,” she says. With one step she’s by my side. “With your back against the tree.”

Heat radiates off her body. My skin crackles when her palms connect with my shoulders. Her fingertips dig into my flesh and I instantly know this is not some special sort of stretch. This is foreplay.

“Quick question,” she breathes into my ear. “Can I kiss you now?”

In a flash, my hands move to her neck and I pull her close. A storm brews in her eyes in the instant before she closes them, the moment before our lips touch and everything changes.

Desire rips through me as her stiff nipples crash against my chest. We’re about the same height and the pressure of her breasts against mine while she lets her tongue slip inside my mouth for the first time, is enough to make my knees buckle.

The air around us is suddenly heavy with moist heat. The sun disappears behind a building in the distance, casting a sudden shadow over us. I want all of her at once. I want to tear off her wet clothes and fuck her right on the spot.

Do join the other snoggers over at BlisseKiss >>

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