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A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Nine

This entry is part 9 of 10 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

I’ve been trying to avoid sugary beverages. I failed at this yesterday. I went out with a friend and indulged in a Dr. Pepper with dinner.

It was freaking glorious. I also had a sorbet for dessert. Yep, it was glorious too. Don’t ask why we went to Baskin Robbins when it was far below freezing out. We live in Canada. We can handle it, okay?!

I tried to make up for it by eating healthy rabbit foods today, but I undid my efforts by smothering the greens in garlic Caesar dressing. Yes, yes it was also glorious. I even added spicy Portuguese chicken to it.

That means the only thing that’s helping me get through Fifty Shades of Grey today is a cup of Earl Grey tea.

This is not going to end well.

Yesterday, we endured Ana losing her virginity to Christian Grey. As far as losing virginity fantasies go, Ana made out pretty well. And now I feel really dirty and want a bath.

I just realized there is an entire bag of cookies next to me.

This is not going to end well.

I’ll limit to three cookies, okay? Just three. I’m taking them out and I’m setting them next to my tea. I am moving the bag of cookies far out of my reach. In the kitchen. Because if it’s in the same room with me during this, I will lose my dignity and eat them all.

Okay, the cookies are safe in the kitchen. I might need to rethink the title of the book. “Fifty Ways RJ Lost all Self-Respect and Dignity.”

Fifty Shades, Fifty Ways… close enough, right?

Anyway, Ana has identified that Christian is domineering and sad. I guess there are two elements of his personality? This makes me wonder if Ana is establishing what Christian’s characteristics are because she doesn’t have any of her own…

Chapter Nine

The writing in this book is so terrible. I’ve already nibbled at a cookie in order to get through the first paragraph.

Share in my misery, those of you who are reading this in order to spare yourselves from some of the more frightening elements of this book:

Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes. It’s a beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Christian Grey is fast asleep. Wow, what a view.

Dear fans,

If I ever write a book at this level, please take measures to ensure better quality. Draw pictures of me covered in gasoline and lit on fire. (Please do not cover me in gasoline or light me on fire, whether or not I have been doused in flammable liquids first.)

Then again, I do not write erotica. I often avoid romance in my stories, too… although Blood Diamond has romance. And things like kissing characters. May I suffer spontaneous combustion if I do not earn a ‘Still a Better Love Story than Fifty shades’ badge.

Ana is now worried about Kate, because she hasn’t checked in.

Ana, you dipshit, you are an adult. If you want to fly to Seattle and be bed buddies with someone, you don’t need to check in. Really, you don’t. Free country and all. Be bed buddies with whomever you want. I mean, you spent the past few chapters plotting and scheming to get into his pants no matter what.

Enter really long and tedious section where nothing happens. She explores Christian’s space while he is sleeping, and decides her next big thing in life is to make breakfast.

At this point in time, her subconscious is having a conversation with her, and I’m seriously wondering whether or not it might be time for one of those responsible people in her life (wait, there aren’t any) to make a phone call to a good shrink.

I mean, this woman has an Inner Goddess, after all–there’s obviously something not right going on. Maybe she started with four brain cells, and the other three got together and committed murder, leaving her sanity permanently checked out of residence…

Why are there only two cookies left?

Apparently at some point Ana started dancing in the kitchen while wearing one of Christian’s shirts, and thus gives him an ass wiggling show, but I somehow missed it amid the lifeless descriptions of the state of the art kitchen. Which is described, simply, as a state of the art this and that, leaving me to mourn for the injustice done to this kitchen.

At least use an induction range–or something. Something. Come on already. I feel like I’ve been robbed, and I’ve spent some two pages reading about her making pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

Christian is awake by the time she’s done doing some of the things she’s doing in the kitchen. I’m suitably impressed that she isn’t numbering among the things being done in the kitchen at this point, frankly.

Ana, of course, wants more sex. I’m sighing over here.

And there goes another cookie. Damn you, book. Look what I’ve done, I’ve devoured that defenseless but delicious cookie. But hey, you didn’t make me do it, I chose to do it–and that’s the difference between fantasy and reality. Things in one’s head versus being done.

Don’t devour defenseless but delicious cookies without their consent. (It consented the instant it came home with me. And I paid, fair and square! These cookies are proper prostitutes. Don’t judge us!)

Christian, apparently, jumped right into dominance without a single instance of vanilla sex. I have one cookie left. I’m deliberating whether or not I want to eat it or throw it across the room in general frustration.

This is just a fantasy, this is just a fantasy…

I want to light all of the characters in this novel on fire. Does this make me a bad person?

Ana wants to talk to Kate about sex, Kate is screwing Christian’s brother, so Christian isn’t exactly cozy with the idea of that. I can’t blame him. He doesn’t want his family to know he’s into bondage, apparently–real issues, yo. Because how awkward?

Note to self: Leave the fuzzy cuffs and leather straps out where my mother can find them next time she’s over. Plant a camera, wait for the fun. I bet her expression will be priceless.

(Hi, Mom!)

Anastasia, you’re a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a real joy to stand here and gaze at you.”

This is one of the saddest things I’ve read in this book, because it’s so true to life. How many women do you know who really just want someone to tell her that she’s beautiful? This is the sort of fantasy that should be a reality–and people are so stuck up on their fucking media perceptions and stereotypes that pretty girls are told they’re ugly because they don’t wear a 34 B bra, fit into a size zero pair of jeans, and have a body fat score over zero.

How many of us ladies and men hang our heads because we are ashamed we don’t fit the perfect image society demands we fit?

Yeah, I understand that one–and people tell me I’m pretty fairly often, but I can’t see it.

All I see is my chubby little belly and my big butt. (My husband, however, disagrees with my personal assessment. I’m also fortunate enough he’s fairly frequent in his disagreements, even when I’m complaining that I might need to get new jeans soon…)

I’d like to make a note that I’m actually complaining about needing new jeans because they’re developing holes in inappropriate places. He doesn’t mind.

I wonder why.

Note to self: I need a bath like Christian Grey.

At this point, they’re taking a bath together because Ana decides she wants to go forward with basic training. Christian decides to take it easy on her because she’s probably sore. There’s sex. I’m cherry picking a few interesting tidbits for presentation to my spouse… if we ever end up in a bathtub large enough to accommodate such deliciousness.

What? Did you seriously think I wouldn’t be snapping up the few good ideas from this book? You’ve got to be kidding me.

GAH, the inner goddess is back, and she really enjoys oral. I did not, ever in a million years, want to read that. I need brain bleach, and I need it right now.

And of course, being an erotic fantasy, Ana is apparently good at her basics. Personally, I was waiting for her to get startled and take a bite, but I guess that’s not really all that sexy, is it?

At this point, Christian has asked her again to be his and agree to the contract. At this point, she has nodded to his inquiry with an added ‘trust me’ attached.

They have sex (of course)–Christian states it’s her reward for her taking such good care of him…

… and then his mother decides to visit.

Of course.

Because the super millionaire Christian Grey can’t manage to keep his mother out of his house. Sigh.

There is a reason you shouldn’t give your mother your house keys. This is one of those reasons. That, plus once you let them in with their own set of keys, they will never leave.

I love my mother dearly, but I’m not giving her my house keys. Sorry, Mom!

The erotic is, as expected, poorly written. There are some cute things I might be interested in trying, so I’m not walking away completely traumatized. That’s something, right?

Also, this is a fantasy, and please do not judge any of the bondage (or light bondage, as the case currently is) by this book. It’s pretty wrong.

Also, Ana’s a terrible submissive. I can’t tell this now. (That’s part of the Dom / Sub thing, if you’re wondering–there can be terrible doms, but there can be terrible subs, too… and outside of negotiations for a scenario, submissives who don’t do what they’re supposed to are… not good submissives. The whole point of being the submissive is to be obedient to the dominant. Ana’s already shown she’s going to have problems with this element of the relationship in their opening. She gets excused this time, though… because she’s still learning. For some reason, I don’t expect her to fulfill the submissive’s part of the relationship.)

But, this is Ana I’m talking about here… I shouldn’t have any expectations at all. Geeze, stupid me.

I ran out of cookies halfway through the chapter, by the way. My tea has seen better days, too.

I’m going to go mourn for my emotional purity, which has been thoroughly violated by this book.

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Eight

This entry is part 8 of 8 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

We meet again, Fifty Shades of Grey. Yesterday, you won, forcing me into consuming enough ice cream to kill a horse. I’m determined to make it through without a single bite of sweet, frozen goodness. I have a bowl of soup instead, serving as both my lunch and comfort food.

Last night, I decided to descend into the dark depths of the movie trailer for the book. It was a compilation of all of the various trailers.

I have nothing against the actor playing Christian Grey, but I do not find him at all attractive. I wanted to reach through my monitor and rip his hair out. I hate his hair. I hate his hair.

The lady who plays Ana is really pretty, though–and she seems really nice from the few interviews I’ve watched of her. Also, she has gorgeous, sultry voice. Ten out of ten for her casting. That said, I won’t see the film. Christian Grey is supposed to be smoking hot, and I just didn’t view him as smoking hot.

He just doesn’t wear a suit as well as other men… and I love men in suits.

Oh well.

When I last left off, Christian Grey was rather annoyed that Ana was a virgin, slipping rather dramatically out of character. I mean, really? Really? It’s like all of the characters in this book are incapable of using their heads, ever.

I have lost all hope.

I’m rather sad, right now, that I do not have any Triple Chocolate Drama left. I have a feeling that I might need something a little stronger to get me through this.

As usual, there is discussion of trigger subjects in this review.

Chapter Eight

Ah, Christian Grey. You’re something, aren’t you? And Ana… we aren’t on speaking terms right now. Go away. I’m still mad you haven’t died in the hardware store. I’m also wishing the bicyclist had squished you.

“May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?”

“Of course I have.” I try my best to look affronted. Okay… maybe twice.

“And a nice young man hasn’t swept you off your feet? I just don’t understand. You’re twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You’re beautiful.”

Stop lying, Ana. You haven’t been kissed in your life, except when you avoided being raped thanks to Christian Grey. You hadn’t even held hands. Lying, unreliable, poopy-headed narrator.

Maybe twice? By who? Your mother?

Your mother doesn’t count, sweetheart.

Christian Grey has a habit of running his hands through his hair. I’m running my hands through my hair. Do you want to know why? So I can grab a big handful of it and start yanking. Who needs hair anyway?

Aaarrrrrgh.

So, at this point, Christian Grey offers to take Ana’s virginity. He’s asking her very up front to let him make love to her. Ana states she thought he didn’t do ‘making love.’ He’s, apparently, making an exception.

At this point, he’s said he doesn’t want to enter a contract without her having at least some idea what sex is about.

My brain hurts.

Oh, hey, there’s sex in this chapter. What do you know?! At this point, Ana has made it pretty clear that she came with Christian with the purpose of getting into his pants one way or another. Damn, she’s treating him like he’s some piece of meat. I guess it’s a good thing that he wants her as bad as she wants him.

This is so much a fantasy. Please don’t take this seriously in the real world. They’re different, you know?

(And yes, I’m fully aware of how sensitive those who have been abused will be to this entire sequence. Once again, I’m going to be very direct: This book wasn’t written for you. It was written for those who fantasize about things like this.)

Oh, well, it seems like the entire chapter, save for the first page or so, is dedicated to Christian taking Ana’s virginity. I’m… just going to say this much:

This is erotica on training wheels, driven by a drunk three year old on a sugar high. It’s… I… this…

I’m not seeing the abuse in this story. I’m seeing a stupid young woman who has absolutely no realism to her whatsoever and a male who is used to getting what he wants. It’s perfect fantasy material–since there’s a lot of girls who would love to be taken to bed by a… gifted… man. Let’s face it, I know a lot of ladies who didn’t enjoy themselves once during their first time, let alone Ana’s three times. (Or more? I stopped counting because the writing was so beneath my normal quality standards that I was barely able to get through it.)

In the real life, well… I wouldn’t much care for this, personally. But this isn’t the real life. It’s a freakin’ erotica novel. These sort of fantasies are totally allowed.

I really don’t think most women are like Ana Steele in terms of how easy it is for her to enjoy herself. Yet another fantasy–and that’s fine.

You might be wondering why I didn’t showcase any of the writing from the erotic bits?

Let me tell you why: Drunk three year old riding a bike with training wheels.

It’s probably kinky as hell for those who haven’t read good erotica before. I’m almost tempted to link to a compilation of truly good erotica so there can be some points of comparison. Some of the stuff out there is just amazing.

And the type of thing you might want to print out, take to your bedroom, and whisper sexily in your partner’s ear.

The truly sad part of all of this is the fact that I am only a third or so through the book.

I will promise you this: If I ever get around to writing a book that includes an actual romance arc, it’ll be better than this. It may not include sex (I don’t write it) but it’ll have an actual romance arc.

I don’t even try at romance typically. Blood Diamond has some, though–and I’m determined that it will be far, far better than this.

I will earn my ‘Still a better Love Story than Fifty Shades/Twilight’ badge, okay?

If you like this sort of thing, carry on, carry on. The only thing I can say is that I have read worse, which honestly disturbs me on many different levels.

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Seven

This entry is part 7 of 8 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

Ah, Monday. We meet again. I see you have already started your shenanigans, presenting me with Chapter Seven of Fifty Shades of Grey. Well, I’m countering your lack of storytelling prowess and broken plot devices with a bowl of rice, pea, and lentil soup.

Yeah, just go suck on some of that, Fifty Shades of Grey.

I’m on day two of cutting out sugary things from my diet. I’m pretty sure this is going to result in me spewing rude things at this novel as I go to read it.

For those just joining me on this horror show thinly disguised as erotic literature, Ana is on a quest to get into Christian Grey’s pants as quickly as possible, after having recently lost her hand holding virginity and dodging a rape by one of her friends, who I’ve taken to calling Scum Sucker.

So far, the only thing abused has been my intellect and self dignity.

We aren’t going to talk about what I did to that tub of ice cream yesterday, okay? It’ll never be the same, especially not after I dig it out of the freezer promptly after I finish this bowl of soup. That’s approximately a minute and a half from now.

Mr. Triple Chocolate Drama will see you now, Mrs. Blain.

As always, this post will be full of rude things, potential trigger subjects, and so on. Read at your own discretion.

Chapter Seven

Previously in Chapter Doesn’t-Include-Sex, we were treated to descriptions… terribly boring and mind-numbing descriptions. I’m now being treated to a wall of text about the description of this room. I hate you, Ana. You can use fancy words to describe things, but you can’t manage to walk without trying to kill yourself. Why aren’t you dead? Why couldn’t the hardware store have finished you off?

It’s suede, like a small cat-of-nine-tails but bushier, and there are very small plastic beads on the end.

There are six massive paragraphs with descriptions like this, although this one is the one I’m showcasing, as I had a big spoonful of Triple Chocolate Drama in my mouth, which I promptly choked on.

I read it as “It’s suede and smelled of cat piss.” I think this is due to my brain announcing, rather authoritatively, that this is a pretty pissy way to describe a flogger.

Cats of nine tails are not bushy. They’re not… I mean… Damn. There’s nothing at all bushy about a cat of nine tails. They’re often pretty sleek and not much more dense than a whip.

Maybe she meant feather duster? Maybe?

And Christian has just made the offer to make Ana his bitch. I’m not going to sugar coat this in the slightest. And of course, Ana being Ana, has already decided she’s going to say yes, despite the hundred and ten alarm bells going off in her head. I think she had to rub together two of her three active brain cells to pull that one off.

The only things offensive I am finding in this book so far include Ana’s lack of self preservation, her downright blatant stupidity, and the quality of the writing.

I don’t feel Christian manipulated this stupid woman at all. She’s been trying to get in his pants quite actively for two chapters. No one deserves to be a victim. Let me state that right here and now–no one, no matter how stupid their behavior is.

But damn, right now… this is a guide of what NOT to do when picking your new male companion.

No, Richard, you may not read over Mommy’s shoulder right now. And no, you may not have a single bite of my Triple Chocolate Drama. It’s all mine.

“Eat!”

“No. I haven’t signed anything yet, so I think I’ll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that’s okay with you.”

His eyes soften, and his lips turn up in a smile.

“As you wish, Miss Steele.”

Ana’s two brain cells are putting overtime, I see–probably trying to make up for the third one, which has taken up residence somewhere between her legs.

At this stage in the chapter, Ana is grilling Mr. Grey about his love life, particularly in regards to the number of women he has had prior, whether or not he has hurt any of them (a rather direct yes being the answer), and things of this nature.

He even states, as he’s showing her the contract, that the rules are subject to change.

I don’t believe this is manipulative. I believe Ana is too stupid to figure out what sort of situation she’s gotten herself into. This is a fantasy, this is a fantasy, but in my fantasies, I practice the art of defenestration, targeting those who lower the global IQ average by several points.

I am now out of Triple Chocolate Drama. Fuck. Look what you made me do, Fifty Shades of Grey. You made me consume just over 400 ml of chocolate ice cream death.

Repeat after me: This is a fantasy. This is a fantasy. It is not real. That is why it is a fantasy.

In short, don’t do this shit in real life, folks–not unless you’re actually aware of what you’re getting into, and that you and your partner fully agree to it.

This is where they are verbally discussing the agreement and making changes to the terms of said agreement.

Ana informs Christian Grey that she is, indeed, a virgin. He seems quite put out with this fact. This is the first time I’ve seen Christian Grey step quite so out of character. Apparently he prefers his women well used before he gets them?

Christian, Christian, Christian, it should be pretty obvious that she’s never been with someone before. This is Ana. You’re smart. Act like it. Of course she’s a virgin.

The chapter ended with the revelation that Ana is a virgin.

This has been the shortest chapter to date, and I needed half a tub of ice cream to get through it. At least there was discussion of sex between them? And these contracts are absolutely ridiculous and hilarious.

While there are some cultures of bondage that do this sort of thing, please don’t believe all bondage is like this. It really isn’t.

The only problem I’m really having with this book so far is Ana. Seriously. That, and the terrible writing.

Dear Hardware Store,

Stop goofing around already, and do something about this! So many chances, and you’ve let them all escape from you.

Love,

Me.

I want more ice cream.

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Six

This entry is part 6 of 6 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

Normal people would be spending their Sunday evenings relaxing. I can’t do things the easy way, can I? As I’ve finished torturing myself (and triggering my allergies) and I’m not quite ready to get back to real work, it’s time for a play by play of Fifty Shades of Grey.

As always, there will likely be offensive or triggering things in this post. I’m not going to pull punches over what I think. That’d defeat the whole purpose of doing this little exercise, right? Right.

So, before I begin actually reading, I was thinking. I know, I know–dangerous stuff, thinking.

I have a lot of feminist friends. Some of them are men, most of them are women. Some of them I get along with, in terms of world views, many of them I do not get along with. It’s not a subject I’ll talk to many about, as my views often do not coincide well with the views of others.

That’s okay–really, it is. Every generation has a different opinion on gender equality, be it in the workplace or at home.

I’m going to be very upfront about this: I do not view myself as a feminist. I don’t view myself as misogynistic either. I’d rather just head for cover when the two groups clash. If I had to put a label on myself, it’s as an egalitarian. This is not feminism, by the way. It differs. It can differ significantly, especially as a broad group of feminists support women being brought up at the same time men are brought down. I don’t agree with that at all.

Groups should never be brought down, in my opinion.

But anyway, back to Fifty Shades of Grey.

Here is a recap of the story for those who are just joining me on this… adventure.

Ana Steele, the main character, is a clumsy lady who had never held hands, let alone been kissed. She’s recruited to go interview Christian Grey, the sexy rich powerhouse of a man from the next city over, all thanks to her ultra rich friend Kate, who got sick right before the interview.

I don’t know how Ana hasn’t died from tripping and falling into things at this point.

Anyway, her interview with Christian Grey is a horror show, but this sophisticate decides he wants to get into Ana’s pants, and heads all the way up to where Ana lives to do a photo shoot. He also buys her three gloriously expensive first edition classic novels. (Christian Grey, you can do better than Ana. Come visit me, and bring those books with you when you come.)

At this point, she has several men wanting to also get into her pants. Jose, who is currently nicknamed Scum Sucker, attempts to rape her the first time that Ana gets drunk. She hadn’t had any alcohol ever in her life before this point, too.

She faints in Mr. Grey’s arms. He takes her back to his hotel and buys her new clothes and panties and bra and things like this. He gets her into an elevator and gives her quite the kissing. It’s technically her second kiss now, since Scum Sucker was trying to violate her at the bar. (P.S.: If it hadn’t been for Mr. Grey, she would’ve been in Scum Sucker’s bed.)

Ana has no self preservation. She needed Mr. Grey to save her from a bicyclist, since she was so distracted by having her hand-holding virginity taken that she couldn’t walk straight.

Anyway, Ana is about to move to Seattle, and Mr. Grey has invited her for an evening to show her what being involved with him curtails.

She accepts his offer.

And thus begins…

Chapter Six

I typed chapter six as chapter sex originally. I almost kept it. The closest thing we’ve gotten to erotica was when Ana wanted to be kissed, and Christian hesitated before they got into the elevator, where he decided to give her what she wanted, albeit rather roughly.

Come ooon, chapter sex. You can do it!

He hasn’t mentioned the outburst of passion that exploded in the elevator.

This sounds horribly messy. The passion exploded! This is the sort of wince-worthy writing that makes me wonder what possessed me to do this to myself.

That’s sentence three of this chapter, in case you’re curious.

Reading, reading… sighing, and shaking my head over the things the other characters are having in the background, and that we haven’t gotten yet in this book: sex, and apparently, lots of it.

Kate’s got a new name: Bunny.

Yes, for that reason.

For the record, I really don’t care who sleeps with who when and where, but at this point, if I were reading this for kinky funtimes, I would have curled in the fetal position and fallen asleep.

Maybe I should rename this to Chapter Sex People Other That Ana Are Getting. No? D’oh.

I read my way through a bit, until I get to this…:

“Anastasia,” he muses. I scowl at him, but he ignores my expression. “What happened in the elevator – it won’t happen again, well, not unless it’s premeditated.”

If I’m hit on the head with a “this is how we’re showing it’s consented instead of rape’ stick again, I am going to take this book and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m undecided if Rabbit or Ana will get the book. I’d give it to Scum Sucker, but he’d probably like it.

In short, writing skill seems to be optional in this novel, relying on telling, telling, and telling in order to do the job of showing and maintaining suspension of disbelief.

We’re meant to believe that Christian Grey is doing things to Ana she wants. Words are supposed to speak louder than actions in this case. That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.

“Christian is taking me to Seattle this evening.”

“Seattle?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you will then?”

“Oh, I hope so.”

“You like him then?”

“Yes.”

“Like him enough to… ?”

“Yes.”

Damn, woman. I could have sworn you had just graduated from hand holding this week. Now you’re all ready to go all the way, aren’t you?

I have a healthy respect for people who are either too shy or whatever to not get involved sexually with people. I’m totally cool with it. Ana has thrown down the gauntlet here. She’s telling her friend how much she wants to get into his pants.

This is why you should already be dead, Ana. You lack common sense and self-preservation skills. You also are so unreliable as a narrator that I want you to shut up. Please?

Chapter Sex, you’re failing me, come on. At least try to give me something by the time this is done, okay?

P.S.: Ana told Christian, quite directly, that she was into being roughly taken, per the elevator scene from Chapter Five.

At this point, I went to my freezer, grabbed a tub of ice cream, and also acquired a spoon. I think I’m going to need this to get through this chapter.

“We need to make sure you’re simply irresistible for this evening,” she says with determination.

Oh no… this sounds like it will be time consuming, humiliating, and painful.

“I have to be at work in an hour.”

Sure enough, Bunny dresses Ana up for her job at the hardware store.

Yo, saw blades, lumber piles, and miscellaneous assortment of dangerous doodads and doohickeys, I’m paying well for an ‘accident.’

Apparently Bunny can perfectly shave another woman, do her eyebrows, and a fully exfoliating buff treatment within one hour–all to perfection. I cry bullshit.

That sort of pretty is time consuming–very, very time consuming.

I guess this is why it’s a fantasy.

I also have the José issue. He’s left three messages and seven missed calls on my cell. He’s also called home twice. Kate has been very vague as to where I am. He’ll know she’s covering for me. Kate doesn’t do vague. But I have decided to let him stew. I’m still too angry with him.

Wait, you’re angry with him? You’re actually angry with Scum Sucker? You, Little Miss Should Be Dead From Stupidity, haven’t so much as paid an iota of attention to Scum Sucker. Even when Christian Grey pointed out Scum Sucker’s sins, you were too busy wondering what it would take to get him to kiss you–or wonder how to get your hands in his hair.

:attacks her ice cream rather viciously.:

I hope the helicopter crashes, you stupid woman.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am of the opinion that this book is actually a subtle set of guidelines on what not to do as a woman in the real world.

My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently.

Your what is doing what? I can’t even believe this. Since when did you, utterly innocent, intensely stupid, and master-level clumsy so-and-so develop a serious case of narcissism?

Death by crashing helicopter is now too good for you.

Well, you know what my inner Goddess demands?

More fucking ice cream.

I’m not even thinking about bringing Richard in on this. It might lower his IQ, and he’s a freaking stuffed animal.

400 ml of ice cream later, I put the tub away. I might get diabetes if I try to read this book with ice cream readily available.

At this point, Christian Grey is showing off is night-time flying skills. I’m already ready to be out of the helicopter, as the cabin gibberish is exactly that: gibberish.

I’ve been in a privately-owned helicopter, with a pilot who has the night time flying license. I’ve also flown in a helicopter taking off from a proper airport. I was seated directly next to the pilot, and pilots use a different channel in their headset for communicating with the tower.

There is zero way Ana could have heard this chatter unless her headset was configured incorrectly. This is done specifically to prevent unnecessary chatter from passengers on the important channels–the ones used to clear flights for take off, for example.

I hate this book. I hate this book so hard.

Chapter Sex, you’re a failure. All I got out of this was Christian Grey’s requirement to sign an NDA to keep his sexual life private and his confession of having a playroom–and that he won’t sleep with her until she’s informed what she’s getting into. Once again, informing the readers via telling that this is all done with Ana’s consent.

I think the rest of the planet, excepting Ana and Christian, got laid in this chapter.

Oh, by the way. That NDA she signed? She didn’t even bother reading it. Christian asked her to read it. She refused, saying she wasn’t going to talk anyway.

He could have written “I, Anastasia Steele, do hereby agree to be the toy of Christian Grey, from now until my death” and she would’ve been happy to sign it.

Can this woman possibly get any stupider? Christian even asked her to read it. He made a point of this.

:Sighs:

The only good thing about “We wish this was accurately named Chapter Sex” is the fact that it is now over.

P.S.: I was ready to eat the novel if I had to put up with so much as one more word about the helicopter flight. Which, by the way, involved Ana undressing Christian Grey with the powers of her mind, pretty much.

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Five

This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

So we meet again, Christian Grey. I’m returning to Fifty Shades of Grey with a lot of mixed feelings. Most of them involve wondering if Richard will be able to save me from my ultimate demise, or if I’m going to need to rely on Wishful and Magic (new names required…) to assist me in overcoming the latest attack on my sanity.

In my review of Chapter Four, I blew my top over several things. I’m really trying not to hold high hopes for five–or any hopes for five. I’ve come to the grudging acceptance that I simply won’t find good writing within the pages of this book.

I’m tempted to rename this series “Fifty Shades of Grey Matter” as a reflection of the number of times I’ve hit my head against my desk. For sake of convenience, today I will be hitting my head against a stack of Moleskine journals lined up on the shelf beside me.

I have a cup of tea–this is my second cup of the day, actually–and I’ve just finished working on a scene of Storm Surge. Hopefully this is a better set up than yesterday, when I foolishly decided to start my day with reading this book.

I have plans to work on Blood Diamond after I’m done with this chapter–a reward for surviving this endeavor. I’m making an assumption I will survive.

Richard, Wishful, and Magic are watching me rather intently as I settle down to see if this book actually contains erotica.

This is my most serious review of this book so far. While there is some humor, there isn’t much. Don’t worry, I expect my sense of humor will be restored in time for Chapter Six. There’s so much material available thanks to this story’s terrible writing quality.

But, I felt it was important to cover the serious things in this chapter. They’re, well, more important.

Warning: Trigger Subjects in High Quantity Present In This Review
Chapter Five

I have chosen… poorly.

It’s very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed.

I just wasted the past two minutes of my life dramatically reading the above line. It went something like this, by the time I was finished:

It’s very quiet.

The light is muted.

I am comfortable and warm…

IN THIS BED.

Yep. Welcome to my brain space. Have a pleasant stay.

I’ll try to take this a little more seriously now, promise.

Okay, that took me all of two sentences to turn me into a liar. Well shit. Following the above example text, our lady protagonist opens her eyes, feeling quite good about being in a place she does not recognize–and she’s totally happy like that.

The delayed reaction takes a bit to kick in, but at this point, I’ve lost all hope.

If I woke up somewhere I did not expect, panic is the first thing to happen. By panic, I mean, leap out of bed with no regard for whether or not I have clothes on, squealing, and probably grabbing something like a sheet should I discover an unclothed state.

This typically means I fell asleep on the couch, and I had launched myself halfway across the den before realizing I had been reading a book and nodded off.

Way to go, Ana. You have bottomed out your self-preservation meter. I didn’t think it could go any lower.

This woman should be a case study of everything not to do in order to survive.

Okay, so, to address something in the book that’ll likely trigger folks. In this scene, after Ana throws up, and has been kneeling outside, probably in her own vomit, Christian Grey takes her back to his hotel room after she faints in his arms.

I’m going to point out some things here: First, one of Ana’s friends tried to rape her in the previous chapter. There is now an established cause for concern–and a reason not to leave her with her so-called friends. Yes, Kate included.

Christian has no idea if they’ll take care of her–or if she’ll become a real victim of rape–a rape he had just spared her from.

So, he ends up taking off her jeans and socks (because who wants potential vomit in their bed?)

When Ana asks if they did anything, this is Christian’s reply:

“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,” he says dryly.

Ladies and gentleman, this is the exact opposite of abuse. It’s respect for a woman’s body when she has no conscious control and is beyond the point of decision making, which at that point, Ana is beyond.

I have no idea of the circumstances of later in the novel, so I won’t comment there… but frankly, if all men were like Christian Grey in this specific situation, rape levels would be sufficiently lower.

Removal of the pants, in this situation, I do not classify as rape or abuse. I consider it a preservation of sheets. Sleeping in anything that may have even remotely come into contact with vomit sucks.

And he left her shirt as is proper. And the things beneath the shirt and jeans.

:quiet claps:

Oooh, oooh, I’ve seen this line from like every single rant about the abuse of Fifty Shades of Grey I’ve read. Trust me, it’s a lot of them.

“Well, if you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn’t eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk.” He closes his eyes, dread etched on his lovely face, and he shudders slightly. When he opens his eyes, he glares at me. “I hate to think what could have happened to you.”

Christian Grey, in this same chapter, in this same scene, has stated, “I like my women sentient and receptive.”

While he’s possessive–and in certain doses, totally a legitimate thing to desire in a fantasy (which this is)–he’s alrady stated he wants consenting females.

That’s the distinguishing point here: Consenting females. Consenting. To agree to.

Willing. Receptive.

Partnered together… it’s pretty obvious to me that the lady about to get a spanking for having no self-preservation skills is in a consenting relationship.

This just doesn’t hold water for me.

And frankly, she’s so freaking helpless I hope that Christian can spank some self-preservation into her. How is she not dead?

This is the pursuing of a very common fantasy–one where the woman is cherished, protected–and yes, spanked when she does something pretty fucking stupid.

I stepped out in front of a porsche when drunk once. I scared the daylights out of my husband and his cousin. (I obviously did not get squished.)

If he had wanted to spank me for that, I would have allowed it–heaven knows I deserved it for nearly getting myself turned into a pancake. (But, here’s the thing: Consenting.)

This is a fantasy. Maybe you would not consent to this, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with women or men being turned on by this sort of thing.

Are people reading this like they do the bible, picking and choosing the paragraphs that best suit their needs without keeping in mind the context of the scene these paragraphs are in?

And why aren’t people complaining about every Harlequin novel ever? I mean, there’s almost always a scene where the male hero ‘takes’ the female despite her protestations and lamentations. Like Conan the Barbarian, except written for women.

Richard, Mommy needs a hug.

“If you’re looking for your jeans, I’ve sent them to the laundry.” His gaze is a dark obsidian. “They were spattered with your vomit.”

I called it. I totally called it. Eat that, book!

Just don’t eat vomit, that’s just yicky.

Unless you’re into that, but hey, I won’t judge–just don’t do it around me, please?

Oh, hey, Ana is starting to have kinky thoughts. What do you know? There might be some erotica in this book after all…

I’m going to point out, at this point in time, that Ana is so unrealistic as to be laughable, and that this is so obviously playing to every fantasy ever that this book should not be taken seriously.

It should be taken as a steamy romp–a terribly written one, and thus far not at all arousing for me–but an indulgence. Something meant to tease at fantasies.

In the real world, after narrowly dodging a rape, most women are not going to react be being omg get in bed with me right now despite having only graduated from hand holding very, very recently.

were looking up at me – all kiss me, kiss me, Christian,” he pauses and shrugs slightly, “I felt I owed you an apology and a warning.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Anastasia, I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of man, I don’t do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear from me.” He closes his eyes as if in defeat. “There’s something about you, though, and I’m finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you’ve figured that out already.”

I’m going to point this out right here: Christian Grey is the most honest man I’ve ever read about in this regards. He’s driving around in a blunt mobile. This is playing to lots of fantasies, but you know what?

This is giving it straight up. Those who have suffered through abuse are very probably going to cry foul and manipulation. But, I’m going to say this in Christian Grey’s favor.

I’ve had run ins with abusers, usually from the perspective of one of those fighting to help the abused escape…

… and not a single one of them has warned their victims of what is to come. Why, they’re hearts and flowers kind of men, often portraying the perfect relationship, trapping their victims in satin, lace, sugar and spice and everything nice. This doesn’t describe every abuser, but it’s a stereotype for a reason.

Christian Grey is giving Ana the option to consent or not. It’s her choice.

The girl is an idiot and has no sense of self preservation. I mean, she’s stupid. She’s a waste of air. I hate this woman with the burning passion of a thousand suns. She represents a lot about society I can’t stand.

But, you know what? James does a very good job of hitting in and honing in on a lot of very, very common fantasies–especially among women. (I do not know enough about men’s fantasies to make any judgement in that regard. I do not have the appropriate equipment.)

It’s poorly written, yes–very much so. But it really touches down on common fantasies.

Think about it, there’s a reason why Harlequin novels almost always include at least one scene where the man takes the woman–typically using some form of force or coercion to do it. These books are written for a very common fantasy interest among women.

Just because you may not approve of it doesn’t mean it’s not there. So long as it remains a fantasy (or consented to), what’s the problem? The people who assume that a woman’s inner fantasies match what she wants in the real life need to suffer my mental imagining of Scum Sucker’s fate–gender appropriate.

Consent, folks. That’s the name of the game. Consent.

In fantasies, consent is sometimes optional. That’s why it’s a fantasy.

In reality, it should be the case, always.

Okay, here we go! I made it to the end of the chapter!

Quick recap before I make some comments. The whole chapter takes place in Christian’s bedroom in his hotel. He proposes to show her his little kinky world. She asks him to kiss her. Scene set up. He doesn’t want to, not without educating her first. She’s upset.

In the elevator (revisiting a few chapters ago when a couple was making out in the elevator) Christian then decides to take Ana up on her offer and kisses her. He’s a bit rough…

… and she likes it.

She gave consent, yo, about the time she dared him to kiss her. Yeah, he picked the timing around the same time he said fuck the paperwork.

Kinda kinky. Not erotica yet, but definitely kinda kinky.

This is one horribly written book. This is really not my sort of erotica. I mean, yeah, dude, I’ve read it. This is about as far from good erotica as it gets. But, yeah–totally plays into some kinky fantasies.

And I’ll be taking some notes for later–who knows, maybe I’ll find something I do like. The husband probably will not mind some… research.

And I think that about covers this novel’s popularity. It’s kinky. It offers women (and men) ideas for their consenting relationships. It lets people delve deeper into their sexuality. Because it’s so damned popular, already established norms in fantasies are just coming to the surface.

Fifty Shades of Grey isn’t popular because it’s bringing anything new to the table.

Fifty Shades of Grey is popular because it’s saying it’s okay to be aroused by these sort of things.

And it is. It really is.

If you’ve been abused, please avoid this book. This is not for you. This is not written for you. It’s written for wo/men who want to imagine this sort of thing in their head in a safe zone–in their head.

It’s written for wo/men who might want to bring this sort of thing into their consenting relationship.

The world can’t be sterilized, and that includes fiction–and in that, I fully throw my support behind Fifty Shades of Grey.

Carry on, new readers of erotica. This is not the real life.

This is just fantasy.

I say enjoy. I haven’t seen anything yet that constitutes as abuse in the context this book was meant to be taken.

Except for one thing: Scum Sucker’s attempt at raping Ana. Because you know? Christian had it right.

If he hadn’t come to her rescue, she would have been in his bed, and Ana had said no.

That’s rape.

(And while rape fantasies are legitimate as a fantasy source, this is being written under the assumption that all readers understand that this does not condone rape in any stretch of the imagination. Whatever you want to fantasize about is your business, but it should stay a fantasy.)

Random Rambles: Author Finances Really Suck

Investment. Business. Writing. Money.

This stuff sucks. Being a professional, at times, likewise sucks. Trying to produce a good product, a product I can be really proud of–and a book that people enjoy reading–is bloody difficult. It’s tiring, too. It’s hard.

Writing is hard, damn it. It’s hard, and I want to survive and thrive at it.

Surviving and thriving are two totally different concepts. Survival, meeting the very minimum requirements to keep moving forward, is hard enough. Thriving, having the ability to survive plus do things like pay for food, still feels like some far off dream.

I’m barely able to survive, and it’s enough to drive me up a wall. If you’re looking for me, I’m perched up on the ceiling somewhere, or clinging to an overpass, kind of like one of the unfortunate characters from the original Blood Diamond cover concept.

Yeah, that concept picture. Let’s take a good, close look at it. I wasn’t supposed to start working on Blood Diamond until early 2016. Yet here I am, probably 10% into the book–maybe less, depending on how long it works out to be. But either way, this book is getting a lot more of my time than it should. At the rate I’m going, I’ll finish it in the next few months.

I have no way to pay for this. It’s entirely possible that Blood Diamond will sit in the shadows, completed and awaiting final editorial, without me being able to pay for it until its original planned publication date. That’s the problem with just surviving.

I can’t just slide in a project willy nilly. My editorial staff and cover artist could fit it in, but I have earmarked the funds to pay them for other work first. I have to plan how I spend my royalties carefully, because I use those to pay for things. I’ve already talked to my editorial staff. I have a ‘floating’ slot available, just in case I could afford to slip in that beloved play project.

I planned around my love of working on side projects and my ability to finish what I start.

That doesn’t mean I have the money to pay for it. Ah, poor pride, it’s crying in a corner.

When surviving, I don’t have the flexibility to slide in an extra project–and I made a promise. I promised I would finish other books first. Storm Surge releases April 14. The royalties I make from it will pay for Zero, Project Zeta, and Rider of the Sun Horse. Rider of the Sun Horse will be my next released title. The royalties from that will pay for Zero and Project Zeta.

It’s a vicious circle; I can’t earmark funds for Blood Diamond until I have made enough money to cover Rider of the Sun Horse, and so on.

This is an important part of business and planning, actually. It’s how to stay in the black.

You do not spend money you do not have. I do not have the money for Blood Diamond. This means I shouldn’t be working on it, but let’s face facts here: I work best when I can reward myself working on a project I want to work on. I use these projects to reward myself for working on what I need to work on. Writing a novel is hard work. The final editing and transcription phases of the process is very hard on me. It’s frustrating. So, when I have a project I simply love working on, it makes my job a lot easier.

Writing isn’t easy–it never was. I love it, but it’s a lot of hard work, and working on a project I really enjoy makes the work go by faster, easier, and ultimately better.

When I’m happy or excited to work on the play project, which I don’t allow myself to work on until the necessary work is done, I end up doing a better job on my necessary work.

It works out really well for me.

But it leaves me in a bad place. At the rate I’m going, I’ll have Blood Diamond ready for editorial around the same time that Storm Surge releases. In theory, I could have it edited and ready for release by May or June.

I simply can’t afford to do it. I made promises I intend to keep. I’m not against adding the extra hours to the day to make Blood Diamond happen, but I can’t–not without the sales on other books to make it work out.

I can already hear people asking why I can’t do this–why can’t I just shunt a project aside for Blood Diamond? Witch & Wolf is my better selling series. Why can’t I just use the money from the other projects to support Blood Diamond?

That’s not how life works. That’s not how I choose to run my business.

I can’t spend money I don’t have. Here’s a breakdown of the big costs–the things I can’t live without when producing a novel:

$700, approximate, for editorial
$200+ for cover art
$100 general other expenses

It’s about $1,000 on the nose to produce a novel, excluding any promotion, which I’ve mostly cut from my budget altogether to allow me to funnel all of my royalties to paying for my expenses.

Surviving, not thriving.

So, I did some math. In order to pay for Rider of the Sun Horse, I need approximately $800 in royalties (I’ve already paid some) from my novels. I started my marker with my February sales–when Storm Surge became available for preorder. Once Rider of the Sun Horse is paid for, I can use the royalties for other things. Half of what is earned beyond my basic expenses goes to the household. Frankly, I’ll be astonished if I earn out the $800 in three or four months of sales at my current sales rate.

That hurts, but there’s nothing I can do about it, beyond hope that I somehow manage to get a boost from somewhere. I’m going to be doing a March promotion to see if I can revitalize my novels while I’m waiting for Storm Surge’s release.

I’ve already paid for Storm Surge, so I’m currently banking to pay for Rider of the Sun Horse. I’m paying my staff in advance as I have the money. So, as soon as it hits my bank account, it goes to them. We track how much I’ve prepaid so we know if I can keep my publication schedule on track.

Once Rider of the Sun Horse is available for sale or preorder, the royalty counter starts again. I pool all of my titles together to ensure that I can pay for the next title.

If I were thriving, all I would have to do is route half of the excess earnings to Blood Diamond. Unfortunately, I’m at the stage where all of my royalties are going to pay for my production costs. Right now, I’m not even able to contribute to the household. I’m surviving, not thriving.

I knew this would be a real risk of writing full time. My husband is also aware of this. We’re both hoping and praying one of my novels takes off and gives us both a much-needed boost.

Winter Wolf didn’t get the boost we were hoping for. It hurt–it didn’t have the success of Inquisitor. It hasn’t done badly, but it wasn’t done well either. That’s a painful admission for me.

Someone on facebook suggested that I use a crowdfund to pay for Blood Diamond. I already did that; I had a campaign specifically for the Witch & Wolf novels. It paid for Winter Wolf in full. It paid for the cover art for Blood Diamond and Silver Bullet. That’s it. The rest is on me. I’m really grateful for the help, but it doesn’t change facts:

Unless my books sell, I simply can’t do it. I can’t funnel $700 out of my household expenses to pay for it.

It’s frustrating, but this is the business of writing. So, it’s entirely possible I’ll end up sitting on Blood Diamond unless Inquisitor and/or Winter Wolf have a sudden surge of sales. (I do tend to ear mark funds for a series by the earnings of the series–so if Inquisitor or Winter Wolf had a huge surge in sales, I would detour/earmark funds from that surge of sales to Blood Diamond–I acknowledge when fans speak out by buying a title.)

It’s just frustrating, so terribly frustrating, because I have so much I want to do, but it’s going to be difficult at best to accomplish it all.

And no, I won’t release a novel without paying for proper editorial. I can’t do the work on my own with the quality I need. Been there and done that with The Eye of God. I will never make that same mistake again–I relied too much on myself for The Eye of God, and not nearly enough on the editorial staff that has really, really helped my later books shine.

/End Whine

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Four

This entry is part 4 of 4 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

On some mornings, like this one, the only thing my sleep-muddled brain can handle is reading. While Fifty Shades of Grey isn’t what I’d considered great reading material, it’ll do. I don’t have coffee this morning. I have tea, and since it isn’t the caffeine in coffee that makes coffee so much fun, I expect this is going to be amusing for all parties involved.

If things don’t make sense during this reading, you now know why. But you know what? Bleeeeeep. Let’s have some fun, shall we?

I would like to make a note that I don’t write erotica; I don’t often write anything sexy, either. Last night, I was writing a somewhat sexy scene in Blood Diamond. No sex, but sexy. At least, in some weird and demented Fenerec way.

Long story.

Maybe I just wanted to prove I could write a tasteful, sorta steamy scene that actually made the plot and characters move forward. (But hey, while I’m talking about my books, you should totally go buy one.)

Onward, friends!

I’d like to make a second note that I’m listening to Manners Maketh Man from the Kingsman soundtrack. This could prove interesting.

Warning: This chapter discusses a lot of potential triggers. If you can’t stomach the discussion of the difference between fantasies and reality, abuse, and subjects therein, please skip this review.

Chapter Four

At the end of chapter three, Ana had her hand holding virginity thoroughly eviscerated by Christian Grey. That dastardly man! Dastardly! How dareth he?

When I last left off, she decided that she was all sorts of ready to upgrade her love light from recent hand holding virgin to wanting our love interest, one Christian Grey, to put his mouth all over her.

Cue the last remnants of my sanity going poof. Richard looks a bit worried. He’s an Alpha Fenerec, after all, and I haven’t purchased a Nicole for him yet–so he’s stuck with me. I’m so sorry, Richard.

Here we go. I’m nervous. Hold me.

Kiss me damn it! I implore him, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by him.

Can I go home yet?

Hold your horses, Ana! You’re going to make all the uptight conservatives start squealing about how hand holding is the way to the devil at the rate you’re going. This is why we can’t have nice things.

“Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you,” he whispers. What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown up at him, and my head swims with rejection.

Aaaahahahahahaha… Aaahahaaa. Even Christian Grey knows he’s a bad boy and that Ana’s about two hundred years behind the rest of the world. Is rejection a shark?

I have this figured out! Ana and her rejection are left shark!

“That idiot was riding the wrong way. I’m glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit down in the hotel for a moment?”

Dear Christian Grey,

It is with a heavy heart I write to you today, but I fear that you have been led astray by the doe-eyed Anastasia. Please run the other way as quickly as possible. Please don’t shudder on her behalf, it will simply make what I intend on doing to her far more painful to you.

I have upgraded Ana from a flaming defenestration with a landing in front of a speeding truck to strapping to rocket boosters aimed for space to make certain that future generations are not contaminated by this terrible lack of reality.

Also, here is where descriptions help. Cyclists… typically… are bicycles. You know, common, often seen around Portland area? They have two wheels and are powered by a human. Using their feet, except in some rare circumstances.

Next time, Mr. Grey, just toss her out in front of it. Maybe she’ll learn next time.

Beware of bicycles! They’re kiss me dangerous!

Moving on.

Oh god, so, they’ve gone ways… and oh god, shes crying in the parking garage. She’s crying next to the Mercedes in the parking garage.

I’m the one who did it! In the garage with a lead pipe! In the parking garage with the lead pipe!

Richard…

Mourning something that never was – my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

Ana, if you could read my mind, what a tale my thoughts would tell. Let me give you a clue: It involves fire.

Fluffy pink unicorns dancing on raaaainbows, fluffy pink unicorns dancing on raaaaiiinbows.

RJ SMASH.

I have never been on the receiving end of rejection. Okay… so I was always one of the last to be picked for basketball or volleyball – but I understood that – running and doing something else at the same time like bouncing or throwing a ball is not my thing. I am a serious liability in any sporting field.

Girl, there needs to be an insurance policy specifically catered to you because you are a threat to you and everyone around you. You also are insufferable. You know what? A rocket is too good for you. Die from a thousand paper cuts under you fingernails. I hate you.

Christian Grey, you need rescued. Please follow me if you want to not die.

“Then why have you been crying? You never cry,” she says, her voice softening.

Are you fucking serious? Are you seriously fucking serious? This Ana, this… utterly incompetent, never-hand-her-hand-held, annoying pain in my ass doesn’t cry? This… female who can’t even handle walking through a door without falling on her face doesn’t cry?

I. Cry. Bullshit.

Someone send me a copy of this novel in paperback so I can light it on fire. Is that too much to ask?

:Insert hair pulling and screaming here.:

“I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist.” It’s the best that I can do, but it distracts her momentarily from… him.

“Jeez Ana – are you okay? Were you hurt?” She holds me at arm’s length and does a quick visual check-up on me.

“No. Christian saved me,” I whisper. “But I was quite shaken.”

I’m crying. I’m sipping at my tea, crying. There are legitimate tears stinging in my eyes, all because of the above section of dialogue. If you wanted to know what the sound of someone’s soul breaking is, it’s a mix of a whimper, a whine, and a long exhale–too broken to even count as a sigh.

I was right. It was a bicyclist. All of this… oh my god.

I don’t think even you can help me anymore, Richard. I’m so, so sorry…

“What do you mean?”

“Oh Kate, it’s obvious.” I whirl round and face her as she stands in the kitchen doorway.

“Not to me,” she says.

Is it so much to ask for some consistency, Kate? Just a little? Oh, wait, a new chapter must mean a new lease on life.

You just told her in the previous chapter that Christian Grey was bad news, Kate. Have you forgotten? I hadn’t. I was even considering allowing you to live.

In my mind, you are now tied up, attached to a stick, and left dangling over the La Brea Tar Pit. May a chicken peck you to death, slowly.

This is not the worst book I have ever read, but it’s definitely the first book I have read in a long time that has made me consider a career in mad scientist villainy–or applying to become an evil minion.

Is it bad that I wish the erotica had started in chapter one or two? Simply to spare me from how incredibly useless Ana is?

I’m sorry, but no. I’m all for the fantasies of acquiring that super sexy rich badass hunk of a man, but holy crap I do not know a single woman so utterly useless as Anastasia. Not a one.

So, ladies, please fantasize about Christian Grey doing all of the things, including and not limited to holding your hand. But please, you’re so much better than this.

This book hurts me.

I might even get drunk! I’ve never been drunk before.

I thought Ana could not possibly be more sheltered, and then this happens.

For the record, there is nothing wrong with not drinking. I didn’t get drunk until I was 18, the legal drinking age for where I live. There’s also nothing wrong with being chaste or celibate.

But this level of ‘innocence’ without a damned good reason or background–including religion–is just so over the top as to be contrived for the sake of playing out an entirely unrealistic fantasy.

Remaining pure for a partner is one thing, but this is just beyond anything normal or realistic. If there is anything abusive about this story, it is the fact that Ana was created as this clean slate with no life to her whatsoever.

No wonder those who have come from abusive situations are so up in arms over this. Ana is written to be entirely helpless, defensive, and incapable of any form of self defense. She isn’t a person, she’s a vessel for fantasies, and nothing else.

Sigh.

I need Tums.

At this point, Christian Grey has just sent Ana three first edition novels that I’d considering setting cars on fire for–and I don’t even like that branch of literature. Dear sir, they’re wasted on Ana. Send those to me.

Please?

Oh, look. Kate and Ana are moving together to a condo in Seattle. Where Christian Grey lives. How entirely unsurprising. Of course, considering I doubt Ana has any capability of living on her own–let alone surviving for ten minutes without a caretaker–I guess I should be relieved? Ana doesn’t need a degree, she has Kate! Her own personal rich lady version of Christian Grey.

Sigh.

Why isn’t Ana dead? Why has she not died yet?

Drunk Ana calling Christian Grey is fucking hilarious. Seriously, I’m dying. Poor Christian. That poor guy, seriously–poor guy. Sir, you could have just about any woman ever. Why pick Ana?

But I guess that’s maybe wherein the fantasy lies?

Even the should-have-died-at-her-job Ana can land the hunk.

That said, it’s time for serious talk.

“You know I like you Ana, please.” He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head. Holy fuck… he’s going to kiss me.

“No José, stop – no.” I push him, but he’s a wall of hard muscle, and I cannot shift him. His hand has slipped into my hair, and he’s holding my head in place.

“Please, Ana, cariña,” he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet – of margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.

“José, no,” I plead. I don’t want this. You are my friend, and I think I’m going to throw up.

“I think the lady said no.” A voice in the dark says quietly. Holy shit! Christian Grey, he’s here. How? José releases me.

Thank you, Christian Grey. Thank you.

This, ladies and gentleman, is probably one of the most accurate descriptions of the risks of going to a bar as a college student ever. This is also too damned common, and too damned pervasive in society.

Poorly written, but EL James just got a few points for using a very real and frightening problem in our society.

Good for you, Christian Grey, for reacting as he did–because he knows just what can happen in the big bad world. If this were the real life, I’d probably forgive him for using his rich stalkerly powers to track her cell phone and find her, saving her from the very real risk of rape.

Is his ability to get to her dangerous? Stalkerish? We knew he was in town. We knew he was in town for her, but this is a fantasy, not the real life.

The short answer is yes, it’s dangerous and stalkerish–if this were the real life. It’s not. It’s a play by play of a woman’s sexual fantasy. In this common fantasy, women want saved, rescued, desired–treated like a Princess by the man they lust for–even if that man isn’t necessarily the world’s best Knight in Shining Armor.

Then they want dominated. Because well, it can be really, really hot. There’s a reason people want to be the submissive in a bondage relationship.

Christian Grey fits the role well, I’ll give him that.

This isn’t abuse and it’s not condoning abuse. It’s fantasy, definitely. A bit creepy of a fantasy, in my opinion, but fantasy all the same. In short, Ana was created to be the ultimate Mary Sue–a character so bland many people can imagine fitting in her shoes. She’s a paper doll, someone who can be exchanged for the reader–because let’s face it, most readers are more three dimensional than Ana.

For the record, Nice Guy Jose just got dick punched to death in my head. And he’s no longer Nice Guy. He’s been renamed Scum Sucker. Fuck off and die, Scum Sucker.

I’m going to confess this right now: Of all of the characters in this book, Christian Grey is the only one I have any form of liking for.

If there’s anything abusive about this book so far, it’s Kate and the rest of the people Ana knows, for not being true friends and giving her half a clue on how to survive in the real world. That’s what friends are for, and these folks aren’t it.

Oh, of course he did. How is that possible? Is it legal? Stalker, my subconscious whispers at me through the cloud of tequila that’s still floating in my brain, but somehow, because it’s him, I don’t mind.

And because I can’t leave well enough alone, it’s time for my stalker rant! One of the common things I’ve seen ranting about Fifty Shades of Grey is that it’s all about stalking and manipulation, and that the book is a crime against women.

Ana is a crime against women, but I digress.

This is an erotic fantasy fiction. Get over it. Yes, those who have come from abusive situations are going to trigger like fuck all over this.

Abuse is real. Abuse is terrible. It’s demeaning, it’s wretched, and abusers of either gender need to be dealt with.

But there’s nothing wrong about a woman or man wanting to fantasize about being stalked. There’s nothing even wrong about a man or a woman fantasizing about being dominated or taken control of in a fantasy erotic scenario.

It’s only a problem if someone acts on it. Don’t take away another man or woman’s fantasies because you can’t handle what turns him or her on.

It doesn’t mean s/he wants raped or abused. He or she should never be abused.

But there’s nothing wrong with him or her enjoying the fantasy.

Will this chapter ever end? I’m afraid to keep reading. I might suffer an ulcer or an aneurysm at the rate I’m going.

“Drink,” he shouts his order at me.

The moving lights are twisting and turning in time to the music casting strange colored light and shadows all over the bar and the clientele. He’s alternately green, blue, white, and a demonic red. He’s watching me intently. I take a tentative sip.

“All of it,” he shouts.

This is one of those situations where some are like, he’s so bossy and so and so. Have you ever been this drunk before? He’s doing the exact right thing, in case you’re as sheltered as Ana. If you’re that drunk, water can make a huge, huge difference.

A life-saving difference, actually.

And yes, I have seen articles referencing this as abuse and manipulation. Overreactions. Geeze.

And of course Ana faints at the end of the chapter, where she’s portrayed as being the best drunk dancer ever as she can somehow manage to keep up with Christian Grey.

Wait. I reached the end of the chapter?

Richard, we made it, Richard! We made it!

And there’s no erotica yet.

Sigh.

After all of this, there better be at least some decent erotica in this book somewhere.

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Three

This entry is part 3 of 4 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

I know I read chapter two earlier today, but I’m taking a most-of-a-day off, so I’m doing things that amuse me–including reading Fifty Shades of Grey.

Despite the painful quality of the writing, I’m actually having fun writing this play by play review. I write exactly what I’m thinking about. I’m not worried about making it pretty, artistic, or useful for readers. It’s not my standard review.

While I was challenged to do it, I’m having fun.

So, for those of you new to this review series, this is meant to be fun and funny–I’ll talk about real issues too, though, as they crop up. I’ll probably pun and make bad jokes, too.

I’ll also make comments on whether or not I feel the story is abusive. Your opinion will not be my opinion.

Chapter Three

The start of chapter three seriously confused me. At the end of chapter two, she mentions needing to phone Kate. The chapter opens up with the phone call, and there are absolutely zero cues on how she’s doing this phone call. It isn’t until later I learn Ana actually has a cell.

Damn it, would it have been so terribly difficult to set up the scene? Gimme a break. I want to know what’s going on, not try to figure out how she’s getting in touch with her roommate.

Things like this annoy me–I like knowing where I’m at in a scene, how characters got there, and so on. This stuff throws me right out of a book. She could’ve been on a pay phone for all I knew, or standing right next to her boss.

Oh, well. Anyway, that is something that always bothers me when I read–when an author skips these little details. I like them, okay?

At this point in the story, there are three contenders for Ana. I guess this is a common enough fantasy, wanting to be the center of a bunch of romantic attention, wanted or otherwise. So far we have Boss Guy, Nice Guy, and Christian Grey. Boss Guy doesn’t seem too bad, pushy, but eh. Whatever. Describes most of the men I’ve known who have flirted with me that I didn’t marry. That is, all of them.

I obviously attract the wrong sort. Good thing I double-dog dared my husband to propose to me. Challenge accepted, right?

Next up is Nice Guy. He was friend zoned not ten words after he showed up in the book, so what can I say? I might attract the wrong sort, but she doesn’t know what the right sort is.

Christian Grey is the stereotypical good catch, except a bit bad boyish and sleazy, which some girls do consider a good catch.

I can’t say I’d want any one of these men, except as potential eye candy.

So, off this crew goes for a photo shoot. I’m just shaking my head. Christian Grey has a press media kit, complete with photos, because mega money. So many plot holes, so little time.

Maybe I should give up trying to make sense of this. Let’s just forget how the real world works! Squee! Bye, real world, bye!

José, Travis, and I are traveling in my Beetle, and Kate is in her CLK, since we can’t all fit in my car.

You’re an ass, Kate. I’ve been in a car just like yours, and you can fit five or six damned comfortably, plus fit a pony in the trunk. Why the hell didn’t everyone go in the Mercedes? You know, to impress the must-be-impressed Christian Grey?

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Grey.” She shakes his hand firmly without batting an eyelid. I remind myself that Kate has been to the best private schools in Washington. Her family has money, and she’s grown up confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn’t take any crap. I am in awe of her.

Duuuuuuhhhh. If she owns an executive’s Mercedes, a $500,000… she came from money. She’s a bossy, rather unlikable so-and-so, who throws the incompetent under a bus. How much more telling must I put up with? Sigh.

RJ, accept it. Accept it, accept it. This is not going to magically change. Pretend you’re not going to be talked down to the entire novel.

Kate, I don’t suppose you can go and maybe get hit by a car on the next page, could you? You could have driven the group to the hotel in your Mercedes instead of making everyone else ride in the Beetle.

I guess not, eh? Damn, just my luck.

“Ana, there’s something about him.” Her tone is full of warning. “He’s gorgeous, I agree, but I think he’s dangerous. Especially to someone like you.”

“What do you mean, someone like me?” I demand, affronted.

“An innocent like you, Ana. You know what I mean,” she says a little irritated. I flush.

Okay, Kate. I’m giving you a get out of death free card. You have half a brain. That said… you’ve been stalking this guy for how long to get the funding and interview? And you’re just figuring this out?

Maybe I won’t give you that get out of death free card. You should know better–you should have known better in chapter two.

Come oooooon, is it too much to ask for a consistent character?

You, dear cast, all have more holes than my mesh pot strainer. I think Christian Grey is the only character who is consistent at this point, and he’s arguably the bad guy!

Come here, Richard. Mommy needs you again. Yeah, you’re such a good little Alpha Fenerec. Yes, yes, you are…

Ahem. Excuse me.

I think I have upgraded Kate from being tossed under a bus to hoping for a good defenestration. I will amuse myself by fantasizing how to end their lives in the pages, directly related to how much they annoy me. The more elaborate the plan to kill them, the more annoyed I am with their existence.

Entry level is being tossed under a bus. Defenestration is level two.

A girl’s gotta have fun somehow.

Here is a play by play of my reactions to this text:

He’s still holding my hand. I’m in the street, and Christian Grey is holding my hand. No one has ever held my hand. I feel giddy, and I tingle all over.

Quick inhale.
A quiet, pained groan.
Keyboard is shoved back.
Forehead is smacked into the desk once, twice…
Several long-suffering sighs.

Note to self: Smacking one’s forehead into an Ikea desk with two inch thick wood surface is painful.

Okay. Sigh. She’s how old again and she has never had her hand held? She’s supposed to be in university. This would work if Ana was fourteen. I hate unrealistic things like this. Is she some hardcore religious fanatic? Why has this character never held hands with someone?

Jose and Paul have been hunting her. Men will sometimes take hold of a girl’s hand even when she’s not…

Just like this.

Also, if you’re in the street, maybe you should crawl out of the pavement and get on the street instead. Gaaaah.

This hurt me on some deep level.

Richard, Mommy needs you again…

I have to get away from him. I walk forward, and I trip, stumbling headlong onto the road.

“Shit, Ana!” Grey cries. He tugs the hand that he’s holding so hard that I fall back against him just as a cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street.

All I can think is ‘Why aren’t you dead, Ana?’

Defenestration while on fire, to land in front of a speeding bus.

Christian Grey gets points for saving the idiot Ana from herself. Maybe I should start tracking the number of times she should have died from her clumsy ways. Sigh, sigh, sigh.

Being fair, I love when I’m reading a cheesy romance and one of the pairing rescues the other. I really don’t care if the boy rescues the girl or the girl rescues the boy. I eat that stuff right up. I love it. I love the whole cheesy rescuing of damsels and manlings. I love it, precious. I also love when characters rescue themselves.

But this? This stuff just hurts me. At least give me a scenario where ‘I am so incompetent I can’t walk’ isn’t the reason for a rescue being needed.

Why don’t we just put her down on her knees clinging to his leg in the classic romance cover. At least then there’d be some general satisfaction. I love this sort of stuff in a cheesy romance, but this is just a sad, sad example of it. It’s so sad my cheesy-romance-o-meter isn’t even budging from empty. I have a ‘high-pitched squeal’ marker on the cheesy-romance-o-meter. This sort of thing usually triggers it.

Sigh.

Give me a break, book. Just one break. Come on. At least make her need rescued because a drunk driver is weaving all over the road–or someone is so sky high from pot that he can’t control his car. Not because she can’t handle walking.

:Insert heartbroken wailing here.:

And for the first time in twenty-one years, I want to be kissed. I want to feel his mouth on me.

Don’t hurt yourself, little girl. You barely graduated from hand holding. Heaven forbid you upgrade from hand holding to kissing in the same chapter.

Ana, please. Come on.

I understand the lure of wanting to be involved with someone–to be rescued when rescue is needed, to have nice, strong, sheltering arms. Nice, muscular, toned arms… mhmm. Oh husband person! Your wife lady requires your sexy arms~!

Ahem.

But being serious–yeah. This is a common fantasy. Damsel in distress being rescued by someone who wants her? Yeah. I’m in on that. Shamelessly so. I’m especially into when the men need rescued. Because hooooooooooot.

But that’s what this book is about–that’s the appeal. It’s touching bases with very common fantasies. There is nothing wrong with that.

Here’s my Verdict on Chapter Three

No abuse. No stalking. Possessiveness? Sure, it’s there in high amounts. But frankly, he’s your stereotypical bad boy–a bad boy with a taste for bondage.

He’s a fantasy–and he’s a very common one, especially among women who have not come from an abusive relationship. Let’s face facts here. It’s very common for women, especially sheltered ones–or ones who are treated well by their partners–to think about things like this. To be wanted to the point of possessiveness. It can be a turn on, it can be kinky.

In the real world? Not healthy.

But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a BDSM scenario like this. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a guy or a girl to like reading this material. Will it trigger people who have been in abusive situations?

Definitely.

But does that mean there can’t be an audience who enjoys this sort of thing? Absolutely not.

:Shrug.: Read on, ladies. Christian Grey is a fantasy–and so long as he stays a fantasy and BDSM scenario, carry on. Carry on.

If this were the real life, this would be potentially very, very dangerous. But it’s not.

It’s a fantasy.

A Play by Play Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey, Chapter Two

This entry is part 2 of 4 in the series Fifty Shades of Grey Play by Play

For the sake of disclosure, I am reading and writing this part of the review without any more than a sip or two of coffee. At least I’ve caught up on sleep.

Going into chapter two of Fifty Shades of Grey, I’m not really all that hopeful, truth be told. I don’t think I’ve gotten so numbed to the telling and bad writing to be able to approach this without flinching a bit.

I’m going to try, because I want to find out for myself if this book is nearly as abusive as a lot of people are saying–and if it’s really that bad.

So far, though, no signs of actual abuse, and I have read worse books… there’s a lot of time for this novel to take the worst book I’ve ever read trophy, but it hasn’t earned it quite yet.

Disclaimer: These are my reactions to the book as I’m reading. I’m weird, so some of my reactions may not be normal. If I am acting normal, please tell me so I can give myself a slap on the wrist.

Chapter Two (I need more coffee for this.)

I have one thing in common with Ana, at the start of Chapter Two. Her flight or fight reaction is very similar to how I react when I see an action flick. She’s making a prey response, which I find interesting.

At least she recognizes her reaction is completely irrational.

What I don’t like is that she’s irritated at Kate again. Yeah, girl. If you had half a brain rattling in that skull of yours, you would have known to ask at least some questions. And Kate, if you had half a brain rattling around in that skull of yours, you wouldn’t have left such an important interview to an incompetent.

They’ve both made stupid decisions for this, and they should both know better, seeing they’ve made it to their senior year of university.

Also, I know someone who owned a Mercedes very similar to the one described in chapter one.

It cost him $500,000.

I’ll just leave that there as a baseline for why I think Kate/Ana’s room sharing and this entire situation is ridiculous–and leaving me questioning why Kate would trust Ana with such a valuable vehicle.

And why Kate, who views this interview as soooo important, did not leave this with someone of equal competence… like a college professor. Because seriously, this interview involves a major university donor.

The higher ups would not be pleased leaving it to a flake like Ana.

Whhhhhyyyyyyyy….

I need more coffee.

He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, but why should he? Again, I’m irritated that Kate didn’t give me a brief biography.

That means you, Ana.

While cruising along the I-5, my mind continues to wander.

The above section is to draw your attention to the sort of consistency and quality issues riddled throughout this novel.

I check the speedometer. I’m driving more cautiously than I would on any other occasion. And I know it’s the memory of two penetrating gray eyes gazing at me, and a stern voice telling me to drive carefully. Shaking my head, I realize that Grey’s more like a man double his age.

Okay, the above section just baffles me. I mean, really? It goes against every possible human reaction. People who are pissed off usually drive faster, and Ana is kinda pissed off. I mean, the telling is one thing… but she’s in a freaking Mercedes luxury executive’s sedan. Have you ever been in one of these things? I have.

You could do 100 mph and feel like your’e doing 30. They have glorious engines, they have such a smooth ride… and they’re sleek. Oh are they ever sleek. They’re gorgeous vehicles. No, I do not buy into this, book. Argh.

Contrived bits of telling and submissive foreshadowing which doesn’t even work very well. Argh.

Argh, Argh, Argh.

:Drinks some coffee:

As I hit the I-5, I realize I can drive as fast as I want.

:Proceeds to spit coffee. Cleans up mess.:

:Slaps forehead: I can’t literally even right now.

Also, you were already on the I-5. You never left it. Did you just pull over, get out of your fancy Mercedes, and smack the pavement? I bet it learned a lesson there, Ana. Good job.

Dear Friends,

You challenged me into reading this as punishment for quitting my editorial job, didn’t you?

I hate you until you buy me coffee.

~ RJ

As a side note: The references to Vancouver seriously confused me for a bit since I live in Canada. No biggie, but I keep having to think United States instead of Canada. Heh.

So, at this point, Ana has made it back to Washington state and Kate is feeling bouncy better.

Why am I not surprised? I’m actually disappointed. If Kate was still feeling mostly under the weather, I might have been at least a bit more sympathetic. Miraculous recovery, however, annoys me. Oh well.

The characters at least try to cover up why the interview was so damned sloppy. Of course, I don’t buy into it, but to be fair, I was lost on the entire interview arc about the time I put any thought into it whatsoever.

If Ana had gone along to keep Kate company, and Kate had taken sick at the place, I could have seen this working brilliantly. But no, it didn’t work like that. I wish it had, because on a long car ride like that, company is nice–and Kate vomiting all over the place of interview leaves a damned good reason for the second person in the car to be the one doing the interview.

This is the editor in me complaining, by the way. This is the sort of alteration I would have suggested to make this scene really work (for me, at least.) And as a bonus, it would get rid of the damned hair thing at the beginning, which STILL drives me nuts because it’s written in a way where Kate always does Ana’s hair instead of a one off–at least, that’s the impression I got while reading.

I’ve worked at Clayton’s since I started at WSU. It’s the largest independent hardware store in the Portland area, and over the four years I’ve worked here, I’ve come to know a little bit about most everything we sell – although ironically, I’m crap at any DIY.

Wait. What? This woman works at a hardware store and has for four years? She works at a hardware store, and she’s so unbalanced and clumsy…

Oh my god, how can she work at a hardware store? She’d… she’d get herself killed. She’d die. She’d freaking die. She would die because she’d stumble into a rack of saw blades, and she’s so unlucky, the caps would come off. They’d cut her to bits. She’d bang into the lumber, and the whole thing would come down and squish her.

She can’t walk through a door without tripping.

Coffee, coffee, Mommy needs you, coffee.

Richard, you too. Mommy needs you. Come to Mommy, Richard.

P.S.: Meet Richard. Yes, I named him after the character in Winter Wolf. Here’s him next to my favorite coffee mug.

When I can no longer handle the circumstances of something I’m doing, I rely on cute little stuffed animals to see me through. I’m allowed. You want to know why? Because I’m an adult, that’s why!

After a quick cuddle with Richard and some coffee, I think I’m ready to try this again.

 

“I doubt that, Ana. Come on – he practically offered you a job. Given that I foisted this on you at the last minute, you did very well.” She glances up at me speculatively. I make a hasty retreat into the kitchen.

She did? What universe is Kate from? Never mind. Forget I asked.

RJ, stop expecting sense from this book. Stop expecting anything from this book. You might enjoy it if you stop expecting things, like sense, from this book. Treat it like a cheesy porn flick, one that forgot it was a porn for the first thirty minutes.

Maybe I should turn this into a drinking game. Wait, better not. I’m a light weight. Instead, I will read the text, out loud, as described. It goes something like this:

“You, fascinated by a man? That’s a first,” she snorts.

:Snorfle: You :snerksnort: fas–:snort:–inated by a ::snort:: man? That’s :snort: a first, :snort:

I tried snorting the entire line of dialogue. It just doesn’t work. Really funny, though.

It would have worked if it was written, “That’s a first.” She snorts.

Having fun with dialogue tags, take one.

I think the coffee is kicking in. Hi, coffee.

“Oh, Ana, it can’t have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you.”

Taken with me? Now Kate’s being ridiculous.

This entire book is ridiculous. At least she spelled ridiculous right. That word is ridiculous, and I rely on spell checker to fix it for me. That word has my number.

It’s ridiculous.

This scene ended with Ana–I think–asking Kate if she wanted a sandwich? What? What? What? Where did this sandwich come from?

If you’re in the kitchen anyway, and randomly making sandwiches for people, I’ll take one. Please.

Once we’ve eaten, I’m able to sit at the dining table with Kate and, while she works on her article, I work on my essay on Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Damn, but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century.

I thought, for a second, that you were talking about yourself, Ana. You almost made me snort coffee up my nose.

I am sparing you the commentary of a section where time goes by and nothing happens. Well, except Ana’s mom happens. She has the classic read-minds Mom-o-Meter thing going on. That said, why would anyone, Ana’s mom included, think Ana got herself a man when everyone in this book–ever–has made it very, very clear Ana has the dating capacity of a rock? At least, that’s what I feel from the internal monologues and from Kate.

Ana’s mom, either stop smoking or start sharing. I need whatever you’re on.

Enter Jose. Sorry for the lack of accent on the e; too much work. This is the point of the book where I have lost all hope for Ana.

Jose seems like a pretty nice guy, and not I would be stupid enough to friend zone. Good men are hard to find, Ana. Haven’t you learned this yet? You’re in university. This should be been learned by now, considering the high number of stupid college boys out there.

Oh boy. Hi, Christian Grey. We meet again. I’ll give you credit, Mr. Grey… if Ana’s narrative is to be believed, you’re delicious enough to eat in your casual clothes.

Point to EL James; Ana’s still a toaster strudel, but she managed to get a semi-sexy description without wasting words. The guy is hot.

Now, I’m going to talk about the one key thing a lot of people have been ranting about–stalking. I’m going to be bluntly honest with this one: Yeah, stalking is so not good. But, when someone crushes on someone else, it is very common behavior. Almost every girl I have ever known ever–myself included–has participated in some form of stalking or another when scoping out a delicious piece of male to hunt.

It’s a part of current society. Doesn’t make it right, but it happens all of the time for both genders. Stalking can, yes, be even as little as scoping out where someone works to get a glimpse of them.

Go ahead and deny it all you want, but both genders do it. The degree Christian Grey is doing it? Yeah, slightly over the top, but… he’s ultra rich. He can take the day off work to make the drive to check out the lady he’s interested in.

Visiting the workplace of someone you’re interested–who has a job that allows it, such as a hardware store or McDonalds–is pretty common fare.

This instance and this instance alone I do not have a problem with. It’s practically a part of the dating game. I’m pretty sure it’s in the Lady’s Guide to Selecting a Male. I have a copy somewhere. But seriously, I don’t know of anyone who hasn’t done this sort of scoping out of an interesting person of the opposite sex. In modern times, most folks do their game planning, which often involves a mild form of stalking, via facebook. (Get with the real world, Ana. Do you really not use the internet??!)

Glorious day! The end of chapter two has arrived!

Christian Grey is about as subtle as a train on fire hurtling down the tracks. Ana is about as oblivious as a rock–or a burnt toaster strudel.

So far, Christian Grey has a possessive attitude, and I can’t deny the fact that women–myself included–want to feel wanted. It’s very appealing to feel wanted. That sort of thing is, I think, hardwired into human beings–the need and desire to be a part of a group or couple.

Christian Grey fits that bill very well. Ana is also the sort who has no self-esteem, and it doesn’t surprise me that she’s taken aback by this guy. He oozes that primitive male possessiveness.

At the risk of pissing off all of those who hate Fifty Shades of Grey and everything it stands for, at this point–not abuse. Sure, he’s a bad boy, sure he doesn’t like other men around someone he’s crushing on at the moment, but frankly… welcome to the dating scene.

Go to any bar and you’ll see this exact sort of behavior. It’s predominant in too many single men on the hunt for a woman.

Not necessarily right, but frankly, it’s true to life. It’s true to a lot of experiences, and I see absolutely nothing wrong with a woman playing out the fantasy of being truly desired or wanted in a submissive sense.

Up to chapter two, while I think the writing is completely abyssal–far worse than the huge, scary, creepy eyes of my Beanie Boo trio–I can’t say there’s anything in here that trips my trigger yet.

And I was looking for it. But I’m being fair to the book. Sure, it’s crappily written, but it plays out a very common fantasy among women: being wanted and desired by a hot, wealthy, and powerful man who is fully capable of taking care of her.

I can understand how people would be hooked on this book at this point. Am I hooked? No, not really. Not at all, but I’ve read good bondage erotica–with proper story set up.

This book isn’t good bondage erotica… but it plays very well to a very, very common fantasy.

It’s fanfiction bad, but I came in expecting the writing to be terrible. I’m (mostly) trying to forget about how poorly written the book is. It’s not working, as evidenced by the need for coffee and lots of love from Richard, but there you have it.

Too bad that it’d be stalkerish and rude to send the author a book on proper bondage… I have a really good one on my book shelf; it’s designed for beginners seeking to understand the relationships between doms and subs, and I have a feeling it would have done her a lot of good to have read it before writing this novel…

And yeah, I have books like that. I used to work in the adult industry in a marketing department. I know a lot of people who are into the culture. Of course I’d have books like this.

I don’t like judging people or their lifestyles, not without a damned good reason–and I figured if I had so many friends involved in the BDSM community, I’d pick up a few books to understand what it was all about.

There’s a lot involved in the BDSM scene, but I’ll just bring up one point for now. Scenarios are laid out in advance to make certain it keeps to pleasure without becoming trauma. BDSM should never traumatize either the dom or the sub.

The culture is as varied as the people participating in it–just like readers, really.

Understanding Self-Publishing: a Beginner’s Guide to Retailers, Vanity Presses, and Surviving as a Self Pubber

Surviving as a professional or as a hobbyist in the publishing industry is hard. It breaks far more people than it makes. There are a lot of things new authors need to know to avoid being scammed. There are a lot of things new authors need to know to have a chance to get lucky.

I’m writing this to help beginners understand some of the critical parts of self-publishing: the actual publication process. Retailers are the lifeblood of a self-publisher. Retailers are places like Amazon, Barnes & Nobles, and similar stores. They are how your book reaches your audience.

Starting out as a self-publisher can be pretty tricky–and murky. People are intimidated by dealing with retailers, so they turn to publishers. This is the foundation of traditional publication; authors work with the traditional publishers, signing their rights to the publisher in exchange for their work being edited, cover art being made, marketing being done, and books being placed predominantly with retailers.

Self-publishers have to do this all on their own. There’s no one to help pick a cover artist, an editor, or watch out for scams. There’s no one to help determine which retailers are good choices.

This is where the vanity press comes into play. Vanity presses are presses who are out to take advantage of those who want to be published. In short, they charge a fee to get a book created for sale. Depending on the vanity press, they may or may not actually distribute the book. They might use a website where users can order copies of a book on demand.

Lulu is a great example of a vanity press. It, unlike many of its peers, actually has a good reputation. You’re charged by copy for the book–when you buy, and only when you buy. This is how it should be. Createspace is another example of a legitimate vanity press. However, Createspace links into Amazon’s system, which makes it a self-publishing retailer in addition to being a vanity press. You never pay up front for the right to have a copy of your book printed. You pay when you have the book printed. It’s covered in the total sale price of your title.

This is known as print on demand publishing, and it is a self-publisher’s best friend. Createspace’s integration with its Amazon storefront makes it an exceptional one for self-publishers. There are other print on demand services available for self-publishers that also tie into major retailers.

The waters are pretty murky when it comes to vanity presses versus retailers. In some cases, they’re the exact same thing. In other cases, the vanity press is a great way for you to spend money on a package without your book actually making it to a retailer. Vanity presses can be a hive of scum and villainy, and unless you take steps to educate yourself, you’ll get burned–badly.

Let me help you educate yourself. Preditors and Editors is a great site for identifying publishing houses; the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s good for learning about traditional literary agencies as well.

Here is an example of an entry from Preditors and Editors:

Accurance: Not recommended. Concerns received from authors and expressed, for example, in this thread. A fee-charging publisher.

This highlights a major problem in the publishing industry: fee-charging publishers. In the standard author-publisher relationship, the publisher picks up the risk of signing the author. The author never pays a cent for the work done to make their book publishable. Fee-charging publishers are no better than vanity presses–they’re equal on the scam meter, frankly.

Yes, I understand the lure of wanting to be published. But, if you’re going the self-publishing route, you do not pay a vanity press for the honor of publishing your work. That’s a scam.

If you’re going the traditional route, you do not pay a traditional publisher for the honor of publishing your work. That’s a scam.

There’s a huge difference between hiring for a service and paying to publish.

This is where it gets murky, quick.

So, in order to demonstrate the differences between a service and a scam, I’m going to have to go into all of the nitty gritty details on what is needed to publish a novel. This may not be a complete list–I am creating this list based on what I do when I publish a novel. Your mileage will vary. You’ll have to decide for yourself what is right for you.

Cover Art

Cover art is a necessary part of a book; it is what you use to lure readers into checking out the description, ultimately getting them to read the sample and (hopefully) buy your book. There have been many debates on whether authors should make their own covers or hire professional designers.

Either way, cover art is necessary. There is nothing wrong with hiring a cover artist. In fact, I recommend it. I find a good cover will pay for itself, given time. Here’s a post on how I work with my cover artist, and here’s a post on how I work with my typography designer. Here’s another post covering my very first experience with Chris Howard.

Paying for cover art isn’t a scam–just make sure you know exactly what rights you get when you buy the cover. Some artists and designers will only allow you to use the art for your book, not for any supplementary usages, including advertisements and banners.

Editorial

There are many types of editorial, including developmental, line/copy, and proofing editorial. The point of editorial is to make your story as strong as possible. While there are some folks really good at self-editing, I’m not one of them. I hire two to three different editors for each novel I do. My developmental and copy editor is the same person. Once she chews through my story, it goes to one or more proofing editors.

It’s better to fix the mistakes before release than to have to do so after release.

Editorial is a legitimate business expense. I typically earmark at least $700 for editorial for each novel project.

Traditional publishers do not charge editorial. Some retailers, like Amazon, offer some editorial services.

For a self-publisher, editorial is paid out of pocket long before the book ever reaches the compiled, formatted version.

Vanity presses often try to lure unexpected authors in by offering editorial services and then surprising their victim with high charges and expenses prior to publication.

Retailers do not charge for the right to publish your novel. They take a cut out of your royalties. They never charge for the right to sell your book except out of your royalties.

Sites that charge to place your book predominantly in front of customers are either scams or promotional venues. More on this later.

Copyright

This is something you can handle for yourself as a self-publisher. It’s something like $60 to register your copyright. Don’t sell your copyright to anyone if you’re a self-publisher. YOU give the rights to copy to retailers–and you should control the rights of your story, which means you have the ability to revoke the copyright whenever you want.

Beware of the fine print. Smashwords, for example, has a two week period of time to exercise your demand to remove your story from their affiliated retailers. They do not necessarily guarantee to obey your copyright demand. See this post for more information on what happened to me when I had to fight to get them to remove one of my novels from distribution.

Formatting

Formatting is pretty important. It’s the interior design and layout of your novel. I use scrivener’s compile function, modified to my needs, to build my basic files for submission to the various retailers.

This is a legitimate service. Formatting can be free, if you choose to do it yourself. It’s a little persnickety, but it really isn’t terrible. I’ve gotten my method down to requiring five whole minutes from start to finish for formatting. Yes, it can be that easy.

Formatting can cost anywhere between $10 (for a template you fill in yourself) to $1,400. $1,400 was the fee I was quoted for the creation and execution of a template from a book design company.

In my opinion, you should never pay more than a few hundred dollars for a custom template and interior design of your book. A professional worth their salt can easily do this work in a day. That said, it can take longer if you’re writing non-fiction or if you have a lot of unnecessary mark-up in your novel.

This is a legitimate service, but know what you’re paying for. Many companies will charge a lot of money for something you could probably do given four hours and some patience. Think about that really carefully.

There are loads of resources online to help authors get their novels formatted.

Createspace is an excellent source for how to format for print, too. Print formatting is much harder than ebook formatting. This is important to know, as print formatting is what usually costs a lot more.

Paying Upfront for Publication

There is nothing legitimate about paying to have your novel submitted to retailers. Nothing. Zip, zilch. Retailers get a royalty cut for listing a book. For example, Amazon charges 30%. The author (or publisher) receives 70%.

Now what is legitimate is the taking of a cut from a distributor. A good example of a legitimate distributor is Draft2Digital. Draft2Digital sends your files to their retailers. When you sell a copy of your book, Draft2Digital receives the appropriate royalty amount. Let’s make an assumption that the royalty for the sale is 70%, as it is with Amazon.

Let me make this clear: A distributor is a person or group who distributes your works to retailers. They’re a middleman. They’re paid middlemen, too. Good ones, such as Draft2Digital, only get paid when you’re paid.

Distributors sometimes charge fees to distribute to retailers. This is very murky at best for a self-publisher. Considering the number of free distributors out there, don’t take unnecessary risks, in my opinion.

As payment for handling the distribution of your title, Draft2Digital will take a cut. For the sake of this example, I’m going to use 5%. So, Draft2Digital would take home 5% of the royalty earned while you take home the remaining 65% of the 70% royalty earned by you and Draft2Digital. (These are made up numbers. The numbers depend on the retailer and the royalty they pay out.)

This is how working with retailers and distributors should work.

However, there’s an exception to this: the bulk orders of printed books. They follow different rules. If they’re distributing to major retailers, and books are returned or marked as destroyed, you’re still paying for the service. I won’t delve into the details–I don’t use these types of services, but there are many legitimate big-name printers who do this. It can be legitimate, but you want to make certain you’re working with a reputable company in the major retailer distribution systems.

This is complex. I looked into it once, and I gave up after I got a severe headache.

Identifying Retailers vs Scammers

Now that I’ve gone over some of the nitty gritty, I’m going to discuss the issue of vanity press scammers and legitimate retailers.

Amazon is a legitimate retailer. Barnes & Nobles is a legitimate retailer.

Publish America is a well-known scammer vanity press. Here is the start of Preditors and Editors entry:

American Star Books / PublishAmerica (aka PA, aka AmErica House): Conflict of interest. Also runs literary agency. A vanity press with a poor contract. Numerous writer complaints. Author mill and plagiarist. Strongly not recommended. Rated F by the BBB. “A royalty publisher capable of offering publishing contracts to all varieties of authors. Royalties paid, no fees ever charged, no agents required.” Claimed in an Associated Press article that it pays an advance up to $1,000.

Publish America, to my knowledge, really doesn’t charge fees in advance, but… it’s bad news. This is just one example of the dangers of vanity presses.

You can lose your copyright. Yes, you can sell away your copyright, and you might be in a serious legal battle to get it back.

Beware of vanity presses. Many will have clauses in their contracts requiring you to sell your copyright away–and once you do that, it takes a lot to get it back.

Don’t get caught in a trap. Check every available resource you can for the reputation and standings of a press or retailer before you publish. Contracts are binding. That’s why traditionally published authors work so hard to get an agent.

When you self-publish, you are your own agent, and it would be wise that you never, ever forget that fact. The only person who can protect you from the big bad wolves of the world is you.

That’s why I only work with retailers directly or with Draft2Digital. Draft2Digital delivers as promise, charges no fee, and takes a cut from my royalties earned. It is in their better interest to do well by me, as my loss of revenue is their loss of revenue.

When you pay a fee to be published, they’ve already made their revenue. They take no risks. Never forget this.

What if I want a full-serviced vanity press?

I’m going to use Createspace for an example of how a vanity press can get you started with self-publishing, taking a lot of the load off your shoulders. While I wouldn’t use this service–I cherry picked my staff–it’s possible to pay a fee for services while preparing to publish.

Note: You’re paying for services, not the right to publish and distribute to retailers.

Here’s what Createspace offers:

These are legitimate services. They may not be as high of a quality as I like, but they’re legitimate services. I’ve heard decent/acceptable things from the work done by Amazon on these packages.

They’re reasonably priced. You won’t be saving a lot of money, but you won’t be ripped off either.

But seriously, if you have questions about what a full service stop for vanity publication, ask Createspace to call you. Their reps are super nice and will take the time to answer your questions. I’ve put them to the test a while back–maybe that’s changed since I made my call to ask some questions, but my experience was good.

What Createspace doesn’t do is charge for the rights to publish. They simply charge for the services rendered to get your book up to standards for publication.

Ultimately, the quality of your novel is your responsibility.

A Quick Recap

The things To Do when self-publishing:

Pay for Services or do it yourself (Editorial, Cover Art)
Research your Retailers/Distributors/Vanity Press (Pred-Ed)
Know your Contract (Don’t give away your copyright.)
Understand your Rights (Copyright, royalty payments, etc.)
Read. Learn. Understand. Educate yourself about publishing.

The things To Not Do when self-publishing:

Pay for Distribution
Pay for Retailing (There are no shelving fees on Amazon. They’re paid in royalties.)
Sell/Giveaway your Copyright
Pay a Fee for the Privilege of Publication