C. Desert Rose's Blog, page 7

Book Release! :D

Hello and welcome! Today we are celebrating the official Book Release of “Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet” by Adonis Mann and Synful Desire, as well as “H.E.R.: Handy Extended Release” by Synful Desire.

Blurb:

When love simmers sweet and passion simmers smooth, rhapsody is efficacious rapture.

Tommy and Spencer were meant for each other, that is, until a serendipitous encounter proves to be an enormous revelation. Will Luke, Tommy’s childhood friend, serve to change the tide?

Kesha has finally told Teresa about her feelings. The only drawback is Teresa’s engagement to Chris. Will Kesha bask in the bliss that only Teresa can bring, or will Chris get in the way?

Come feel the ardent emotions which steam under a silky surface with Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet .

Available at Amazon.com
Blurb:

Erotic

Never underestimate the steam of a hot caffeinated beverage infused with the flavor of imagination. Wake up your senses while savoring “Kona”.

Experimental

A simple ad gives a curious skeptic a lot more than he was bargaining for. Check out the hair-raising experience while combing through “Tresses”.

Entertaining

Darbi has her share of bad luck. She is unexpectedly in job purgatory and has no chance of ever getting a promotion. Her online dating profile sat months without any responses. Why should she continue?

As she signed on to delete everything entirely, three responses catch her eye. All are different but each has something about them which makes Darbi want to meet all three. Ade appears to be the guy next door. Boyde looks like a supermodel. Choise looks like the rugged type.

When all is not what it seems, Darbi has concluded that her love life is mating with her job status in purgatory. Will anything come in handy to turn her luck around?

This version of “Handy” includes an epilogue, as well as Darbi speak.

Erotic, Experimental, and Entertaining—All come in Handy when experiencing a Good Release.

Available at Amazon.com

Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet & H.E.R. Blog Tour

This blog post contains Adult Content. Thanks!

Hello Everyone. Today, I’m so blessed to have two incredible talents gracing my blog with their words.

I’m so happy to present you all with a Special Guest Post by Adonis Mann and Synful Desire, during this, the Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet & H.E.R.: Handy Extended Release Blog Tour.

First up, Mr. Adonis Mann who is here to tell us a little bit about his writing process.

Hello Rose, readers. :)

I find it interesting when writers speak of their independent writing processes. You see, for a long while I’d no clue that such a thing even existed. I do realize that in the end it is sort of funny that I wouldn’t have known, yet, if a person were to put themselves in my position, they’d know why.

I’d like to share a short yet true story with you.

Once upon a time I was just a man that had many stories floating around in his head. Stories that I yearned to share with people and hoped that they would enjoy. One day, I chose to write them. So I sat at my computer, opened up a word application and immediately was transported to the place that whispered to my mind’s eye. The entire world that surrounded me became invisible and all I could see, feel, hear and experience was the now tangible world that my psyche was envisioning.

Just as swiftly was it came, the characters came to life, and I, Adonis Mann was no longer myself, but the characters that spoke to me. It was as though I’d usurped their body’s and was now living their lives. I was no longer me, but them.

So began the whimsical encounter that was my writing style.

Now, what made this more intriguing was that as I’d never actually told/written a story before and the incident was so innate, that I was under the assumption that it was this way for everyone. I’d not realized that it was exclusive to me. I had no clue that that was the birth of my “writing process”.

With that said, when I write a story I only have one goal in mind. It is to tell the story that my characters are whispering in my ear. Once I’ve succeeding in doing that, then my day (and in turn, my writing process) is complete.

A prime example of this is “… and we”. The day that I wrote this story, which in fact is my first story, was the day that my “writing world” came to life. Following is an excerpt of “… and we”.

Excerpt:

The bittersweet sizzle of my tongue against her scorching hot nipple was like a droplet of water on a searing hot piece of coal. It sent a tiny shock wave of electric revelry coursing through me; from the tip of my tongue to the edge of my indulgence, which at that very moment was battling to come free of its confinements. By this point, I could feel that it was red with throbbing need to feel the slick warmth of her inner cove.

She hummed deep in her throat as the delightful sensation tickled her erect pink nub. She liked it—I licked it—it was fantastic.

Gripping it between my teeth, I grazed it, running it through them. She moaned again. “Mmmm.” She was a vixen for pain, this one.

From behind, I felt his hands caress my back from bottom to top, and top to bottom. He puffed his satisfaction. He enjoyed watching—he was fond of participating even more. “That’s right Papa, take her!” He commanded in a sensual, sing-song voice. It was a combination of horniness and ravishment—a male siren.

Lifting my other hand to her awaiting breast—one unoccupied by either mouth or hand—I fondled it too, pinching that nipple between my fingers, knowing that she enjoyed the olio of indulgence and pang. She was a rarity, the sort that happily mixed business with pleasure, and pleasure with pain. A sexual phoenix.

He was wanton. Libidinous was his desire.

All of this was the foreground of a masterpiece night. The three of us, a room full of passion, pheromones and testosterone—a banquet for coition. The recipe for magnetism which would produce a night full of carnal merriment. Three covetous souls with each other. A cocktail of absolute perfection.

And perfect it was…

In “… and we” the walls of my reality crumbled and what took their place was Ronan’s world and the pleasure in which he was indulging.

For my short story “Let’s Play on Valentine’s Day”, I’d been doing a lot of thinking on that day. Most of it, fun, entertaining thoughts. And, what seems like out of nowhere the story was born. In this case in particular there is no main character. In all truth, the main character is the reader. I wanted to transplant the reader into the story much like I’d been transplanted there. Thus, a fun story full of wordplay was born. Following is an excerpt.

Excerpt:

Shhh … Yes, you. Silence. Say nothing. Just come here. Come close. I have something to share with you. Close your eyes. I don’t want you peeking. All right, now … stick out your tongue. Let this glide across it. Feel the silky texture. The smoothness. The softness. Can you feel that? Can you?

Good.

Now, here, smell it. Can you smell its deep aroma? The natural muskiness that it contains? Does it make the hairs on the back of your neck stand? It does, doesn’t it? Yeah, I know it does.

Good.

Shhh … Nope. Don’t say a word. Just keep your eyes closed and imagine how soft it is on your lips, how it seemingly melts on your tongue, how it disappears into a puddle as thick as sin and as delectable as lucid juice.

Mmmm.

Just the thought alone causes a certain heat to accumulate in between my thighs. My personal juices start to flow at the mere idea of how this feels to you. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Ever present and delicious.

I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Ohh, I have an idea. Let me blindfold you. Here, stay still.

Allow me to tie this around your eyes. Yes, I know it’s pink and red—it’s Valentine’s Day. What did you expect? Yes, indeed. It’s satin too. It has to be special don’t you think? Mhm. I thought you’d agree.

There. Is that nice and snug? It is.

Good.

Now, how about this? Can you feel this as I graze it across your lips? The texture has changed a little, hasn’t it? It’s a bit firmer. A little harder now. Oh yes, yes it is a bit bumpy. I’m so glad you noticed that all on your own. Well done.

No, no, no! Do not bite down. Biting is not allowed. Lick. Yes, that’s right. Just lick it.

Just like that. Mmm.

That, in essence is my writing style. Thank you for having me. Best regards to you all. :D

Next, the one and only Synful Desire talks about similar subject matter. Desire, please take it away.

Um … what! I know my response is probably going to break all the rules set in place for writing but here goes. When I write, I don’t have a set goal whatsoever.

Yeah, I know the old saying: “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” Yet, my unpredictability has resulted in some wonderful stories.

Like the great comedian Kevin Hart, “Let me explain.”

One day, a few years ago, I was enjoying a very good cup of coffee. It was a cup so good you could just smell the freshness of the coffee beans—reminiscent of those feelings when you see someone that you have a fondness for, even fantasies about. This enjoyment was something I had to capture on paper.

That was how “Kona” was born.

There are also moments when there’s a deadline set to get things in to my publisher. Although there are some writers who can carve out time in their day and crank out material within that time frame successfully, I am what you call “I’ve got to feel it” type of writer. In other words, if I am not feeling inspired, I can’t put it on paper. For me, it’s better for me not to write the words, since I’m going to think they are garbage and chunk them anyway in edits. Why give myself extra work?

The downside to my method: the moments when the 1st deadline comes, then goes … the 2nd deadline comes, then goes … and so on, and so forth.

The release of my novel is a prime example of a deadline being set, then reset, and reset again. Yet, with Convoluted Prism, there were a number of factors besides not having the oomph. My brain tends to sizzle with other thoughts that have to go on paper. Like, you don’t understand! Like, at that very moment as I’m thinking it … go on paper. Next thing you know, that becomes the spotlight … similar to the way I can go from wanting a dark shade of pink on my fingernails to a bright shade of orange.

In the meanwhile, here comes my publisher: Desire, um, about Convoluted?

Oops.

It also happened in the case of “Alan, Fay & Demona” the first Prelude of Prism. The original date set for it was sometime in September but there were a few things which got me distracted and I couldn’t quite get there. One of those things was deciding that I was going to write a story for Concordant Vibrancy 2 after all. It was highly random, since originally I thought I wasn’t going to participate.

One day I was chatting with my co-author on Simmer: Smoothe & Sweet Adonis Mann and we were discussing, out of all things, bellybuttons (or lack thereof). The strange nature of the conversation lingered, and a premise began to form that related to the theme of Concordant Vibrancy 2, which is “What force drives your spirit”? Over 5,000 words later, “Return to Hues”.

Yes, “Alan, Fay & Demona” finally came into fruition—this past November as a matter of fact and a lot longer than I believed it would be … over ten thousand words.

That is another wacky thing about me. The ideas in my brain are always a longer word count than I calculate, although no one else is ever surprised at the length. Well, I never said math was my strong suit.

Now, about this character business.

As far as realness, the foundation of the majority of my characters (“Return to Hues” is the exception) is realness. My philosophy: The more relatable the character, the more enjoyable the story is for the reader. Even the characters that I create as over the top gorgeous have a real component about them.

For example, the character that embodies my sense of fashion and attitude would be Darbi from Handy. She knows what she wants and doesn’t want in a guy, nor is she ashamed to let this be known to anyone. Her time, particularly how she wants to invest her sexual pleasures, is precious—short changing that element is not part of her menu.

Excerpt from “Handy” part of H.E.R. (Handy: Extended Release)

A few minutes passed. The crunch of romaine letters and the clattering of silverware against china bothered Ade. “Darbi please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Something, anything.”

“Let me finish my salad first.”

“You sure you don’t want anything else Darbi? It’s on me—anything you want.”

Darbi was so tempted to have a strong drink but she still had work to finish. She started to think the main reason why Ade always chose the back dining area was because of his shame. Little things entered her mind. One would be his difficulty in driving certain vehicles. With Ade’s size, he probably had to invest in a huge truck/SUV or get chauffeured everywhere he went. He would have to purchase two airline seats for comfort. Plus, the looks others would give Ade no matter where he was.

Before, Darbi had never considered herself a vain person. Yet discomfort greeted her at every turn. If she did take the chance to know him in a romantic way, could she conjure up desire for him? Darbi’s lust was wrapped up in the Ade of old. This current Ade did nothing for her. Even worse, her mind started calculating how she would get past that massive gut to reach his equipment. His being on top was definitely a no-no. How would she mount him?

Darbi caught herself in mid-retch. She rushed to the bathroom. Chunks of apple vinaigrette dressing, half chewed croutons and lettuce blended with the toilet bowl water. She flushed the toilet and emerged from the stall. After rinsing with her travel sized Listerine mouthwash, she reapplied her lip gloss. Darbi couldn’t do this. No matter how shallow it looked, she knew in the long run she wouldn’t be able to get past his current look.

When she returned, Abe looked alarmed. “Darbi I almost sent someone in to check on you. Are you all right?”

She pulled out a ten dollar bill and placed it on the table. “No I’m not all right. This isn’t going to work Ade. I had a right to know what you looked like before we met.”

Ade’s face flushed with irritation. “Don’t you understand? This is the reason why I didn’t, because I feared you would react this way.”

Ade flung the money back at Darbi. “Keep your money; I told you it was my treat. I could have easily just kept talking with you back and forth on line for a bit longer. I wanted us to meet. You seemed like a nice lady. I prayed you would be different. But you’re just like the rest, Darbi!”

Darbi scooped up the bill and shoved it back in her purse.

“I’m sorry but I don’t do well with liars.”

“Answer me this Darbi. If I was the hot hunk of years ago, would you even be leaving right now? Even if every other thing out my mouth was a lie, would it matter to you if I was your hot idea of a fuckable fantasy?”

Darbi was stunned silent.

I also try to challenge myself in developing complex characters. Complex, in the sense where a reader feels like cheering in one breath and throwing one’s hands up by the next segment. Sabrina, the main character in Delectable Things is a prototype of complexity. Even when hinting at her horror stories with relationships here and there, one is not quite sure whether to really like her or shake your head.

Excerpt from Delectable Things

Chapter One

Disjointed

“Sabrina,” Mildred called, “Mr. Torrance would like to see you in his office before you go on your lunch break.”

“Okay.”

Sabrina pushed her lengthy blonde bang away from her face. She wasn’t too concerned, though. She had been asking for a raise from Mr. Torrance, her boss at Joynt Enterprises, for some time now.

After two years, she felt that it was long overdue. She stayed after hours on many nights, helping Mr. Torrance close up big acquisitions and contracts. She even helped him out on a personal level, giving him certain favors when he asked for it. No one put a gun to her head and forced her. She did it because she wanted to and because she really cared for him. She knew that he also cared for her because he would always tell her as well as shower her with gifts.

All this had been going on for about a year and a half. For the first six months, they had contoured to the employer-employee relationship. She had seen Mr. Torrance as a mentor, a person she could learn a lot from. She admired his business savvy and his enthusiastic attitude towards the business world.

Mr. Torrance, at first, had seen her as a confident, efficient secretary who was excellent in preparing things in an orderly, timely manner. As time progressed, Mr. Torrance began altering his perception: seeing her as a beautiful, desirable woman.

She never would forget the first time that they had to stay after hours. She wore a lavender two-piece suit, and her skirt had a deep slit to expose more than a hint of tanned thigh. Maybe it was the licking of her lips or the curvature of her ass when she bent down. Whatever the case, they were soon on top of Mr. Torrance’s desk—skirt hiked to her waist, silk thong tossed on the floor, and his condom covered manhood thrusting deep inside her.

The first time it happened, he apologized, saying that it was unprofessional and that it would never happen again. She said it was okay, but only because she wanted more of his unprofessional behavior. It had been eons since she had been with a man. She had sworn off men for four years to explore intimacy with women. She’d broken it off with her girlfriend at the time she had started her job at Joynt—Mr. Torrance was the very fuel she needed to get back on track sexually.

So she kept teasing him at the workplace; with V-neck tops that showed a hint of cleavage, closely fitted pants, mid-thigh skirts, his favorite perfume—until he caved in to his desires for her and they started dating. He advised Sabrina not to leak this to any of the employees, and she had done well with keeping the secret.

Well, except for one time. Veronica had spotted her as she left his office. Veronica had been working at Joynt for five years, and they had become pretty good friends. Each time Veronica inquired if she was messing with Mr. Torrance, Sabrina could always cover her tracks.

That night, however, about three months back, Veronica had to pick up some paperwork at the office and that’s when she caught Sabrina. Sabrina hadn’t gotten the opportunity to calm her shoulder length hair or smooth some of the wrinkles from her outfit. Anticipating Veronica’s inquisitive nature, Sabrina invited Veronica out to lunch the following day and told her everything. Veronica swore to keep things a secret. Other than Veronica, no one else knew of her and Mr. Torrance’s love affair.

Wow! Would you look at the time? I have a medi-pedi appointment that I’m running late for. Thank you so much for having me. Toodles!

Well, that was tons of fun! Thanks for stopping by guys! Love you both!

Meanwhile, dear readers, take a look at these book trailers.

The Dating Game, C. Desert Rose’s Style

Hello and welcome to a Special Edition of the C. Desert Rose blog. This post was inspired by a Fan Question. I was asked:

“If Fate’s Endeavor were a dating website, what type of ad would you put up? Would your ideal match be an angel or demon or something in between?”

I’m not sure if you all know how old I am, but I’m more than 30 and less than 50, so suffice it to say that I’m no spring chicken any more.

During my childhood my mother used to watch “The Dating Game” every day. She’d never miss it. Which to me was sort of odd, because she was married to my father. Nevertheless, I was transfixed by the game show and watched it regularly with her.

So, I chose to take the above question and flip it up a bit. With that said, welcome to …

The Dating Game with C. Desert Rose!

Announcer: Hello ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to The Dating Game! Today, our bachelorette is the very talented Miss C. Desert Rose; author, artist and all out good person. You may know her from places such as The Fate’s Endeavor, and Concordant Vibrancy. Rose, please come on out.

Announcer: Hello, Rose, welcome. Please have a seat.

Rose: Okay! :D

Announcer: Rose, today we have 3 very amazing bachelors for you to interview. I have a feeling that you’re going to have a hard time choosing which bachelor to take out on a date.

Rose: Oh, okay. * giggling *

Announcer: First, Bachelor #1 is from the land of The Middle Ground. He’s known as The Messenger, and The Guiding Light. He’s got a wee problem with anger management, but that by no means takes away from his majesty and magnificence.

Announcer: Bachelor #1, please say hello.

Bachelor #1: Hello, human.

Rose: Umm … :| Hello …?

Announcer: Bachelor #2 is from “down south” … ehem … He enjoys things such as inflicting pain on the innocent, tormenting the needy and rebelling against the Higher Sources.

Announcer: Bachelor #2, please say hello to Rose.

Bachelor #2: Hello, petty human female, I shall destroy you. I pray you enjoy your eminent death.

Rose: Mmmm-K.

Announcer: Last, but certainly not least, Bachelor #3 is a native from The Pelican State, and loves Jambalaya and Beignets. His best friend is from the other side of the world, but they get along famously. Bachelor #3, please say hello to Rose.

Bachelor #3: Hey.

Rose: Hi!

Announcer: Well, Rose, now that you’ve met our 3 bachelors, please go ahead and ask them your questions.

Rose: Bachelor #1, given the opportunity to cook me a meal, what would it be and why?

Bachelor #1: We’ve no need for sustenance.

Rose: Umm … Okaaaaay. :| Moving on … Bachelor #2, same question.

Bachelor #2: I shall feast on your flesh on a skewer, roast it in the blazing inferno of hell, while you watch. You, shall eat nothing.

Rose: :o :| Mmmm-K. Alrighty then. So, Bachelor #3, same question.

Bachelor #3: Well, I’m not that good of a cook. But, I make a hell of a campfire hare. You may want to bring along some salt, though.

Rose: Oh, okay. :D Alright, Bachelor #3, I absolutely love romantic nights by the fireplace with a bottle of wine, a cozy fleece blanket and a good book. If you were a flavor of wine, what you would be and why?

Bachelor #3: I think I’d be a Pontchartrain Vineyards Zydeco Rosato. Mostly because it’s neither red nor white, it’s indigenous to Louisiana and it’s got a full body with a sweet and mellow flavor.

Rose: Wooh! Did it suddenly get really hot in here? *wipes sweat off of forehead* Bachelor #2, same question.

Bachelor #2: I shall tear your fingernails off one by one, and dip them in blood red wine, then I shall sip it with gusto and spit them out into your face.

Rose: Bachelor #1, same question.

Bachelor #1: I do not reply to trivial, insignificant human metaphorical questions. I refuse to be your wine, or anyone elses.

Rose: Well, I see.

Announcer: Great! Well, Rose, you’ve asked some interesting questions and gotten some interesting answers. But, the time has come, which bachelor will you choose? Viewers, let’s see who Rose will choose after these messages.

Announcer: Welcome back to The Dating Game. We’ve reached the most important part of the game. Rose, has to choose her date. Rose, will it be Bachelor #1, Bachelor #2 or Bachelor #3?

Rose: Nice!Rose: I already know who it will be. First, Bachelor #2 I only have one thing to say … Ritalin! And, LOTS of it.

Rose: Bachelor #1, One word …

Rose: Mr. Announcer Guy, I choose Bachelor #3.

Announcer: Wonderful! Well, first let’s introduce you to the bachelors you did not choose.

*Cue Music*

Announcer: Bachelor #1 resides in “If Death Should Love Me” and is the commonplace villain, only not. His favorite pastime is tormenting Azriel and anyone Azriel loves. Gabriel, can you please come out here?

Gabriel: Damned be you and the seed of your womb. I shall not prostrate myself before a foul human. *flies off indignantly*

Announcer: I see … well, alright. Ehem, Bachelor #2 resides in “Demoness Enchanted”. His name is Azazel and he is content with being the preferred minion of the darkness. Azazel, please come out and say hello to Rose.

Azazel: *Walks out cordially and takes Rose’s hand. Places a soft kiss on the back of it.* Greetings. I yearn to rip your arm from it’s socket and slurp the juices of your vitality from its veins.

Rose: *pulls her arm away slowly* Mmmm-Kaaay! Like I said, Ritalin.

Azazel: Fair well, in due time I shall see you in the pits of hell.

Announcer: Well, that leaves Bachelor #3. Bachelor #3 is NOT from Fate’s Endeavor, but I will go out on a limb and say that we are thankful for that. Bachelor #3 lives in the 1940’s, loves swing music and the Mardi Gras. Nethanyel, please come on out and say hello to Rose.

Nethanyel: *Walks out, places a soft kiss on Rose’s cheek and hugs her tenderly.* Hey.

Rose: *giggling* Heeey …!

*Cue Music*

Well, thanks for visiting us today on The Dating Game where a love match is actually just like a game!

Newly Released, Today!

Today we celebrate the Official Release of “Spaded Truths 2: Life-O-Suction” by Queen Of Spades.

Blurb:

Truth has no expiration date.

A second helping of Spaded Truths has arrived in the form of Life-O-Suction. Seasoned with a rich blend of prose with poetry, this follow up explores the human condition with a simmering of stimuli that lingers long after one has reached the end.

Disclaimer: Some of the content may not be suitable for those under eighteen.

EXCERPT:

Keloids

The discovery of land that already has inhabitants should be a mockery,

Not facts taught in schools and made a national holiday.

Just like some of the greatest minds didn’t have skin of alabaster

But hues of cinnamon to dark chocolate, not discovered until way after.

The genocide of Jews is seen as diabolical: accounts well documented.

I mean no disregard or comparisons on any injustices inflicted.

My people’s assassination is an everyday phenomenon,

Yet too many people flip through channels

While waiting for Scandal or Empire to come on.

Spaded Truths 2:
Life-O-Suction
Available on Amazon Kindle & Paperback
Buy it now!

The #Holidays

Happy Holiday’s Everyone.

Yep, they’ve started already. Doesn’t it seem like just yesterday we were in this holiday rush? Well, I feel that way at least.

I woke up today reminiscing on my youth and what they holiday’s were like when I was a child. And, in a word, they were magical. The holiday’s was the one time of the year when I got a much needed hiatus from the craziness and utter dysfunction that was my family.

When I say that my family life was crazy, I mean it. It! Was! Insane! To learn more about it, read THIS.

One of the things my mother did in order to make sense out of her psychotic existence was turn to religion. Suffice it to say that religion turned out to be more of a prison than it was freedom. The denomination to which my mother turned was one that believed that EVERYTHING was sin. From watching television, to reading any book that wasn’t the bible, to shaving your legs and wearing makeup (and these were the least of the so called “sins”). EVERYTHING about that religion was servitude.

So, to make a long story short, I was indoctrinated in all things “Christmas” as per their interpretation. What I would learn several years later helped in freeing myself of the metal clutter that said religion created. What I learned, taught me that ignorance is NOT bliss but captivity.

Through many years of study I learned that the story of Jesus was just a regurgitation of many others before it which were nearly identical in myth.

There was the story of Horus from 3100 BC, an Egyptian god.
And, Buddha from 563 BC, the Buddhist myth.
As well as Mithra, an ancient Zoroastrian deity from 2000 BC.
Krishna, a Hindi god from 3000 BC.
And also, Osiris another Egyptian deity from 2500 BC.








You can learn more about then HERE.

Yet, TO ME, the Holidays had always been something more. TO ME, the holidays transcended all religious beliefs and tapped into the human heart and mind.

If you’ve ever wondered why Abuela (Grandma) was such an important character in “If Death Should Love Me“, it was because in MY life, my Abuela was one of the most important people.

SIDE NOTE: I had a reader complain that my heroine, Sophia, was “obviously me“. I was like, “Duh! Who doesn’t mold certain characters after themselves to one degree or another?”

“Write what you know” right? Or so they say.

Anyhow, during the holidays my family got together, all differences were set aside and love was the most powerful and important thing. It was the gift that bound us, and the person that made it happen was my Abuela. During the holidays togetherness was the theme that interwove through us, and united we became no matter how many disagreements we had.

Throughout my childhood, it was solely during the holidays that I felt complete, and that feeling lingers to this day. If I am not spending the holidays with the people I love, then I am not happy. This has little to do with religion, but everything to do with faith. Faith, in that during this time of year all family controversy can be set aside and for that one time we can just be loved and give love.

With that said, no matter what your reason for celebrating, and no matter what holiday you celebrate, I bid you the best, most peace filled, most miraculous and loving holiday ever. Enjoy every second of it next to those whom you love, because life is too short to let it melt away.

From ALL OF ME, to ALL OF YOU!

Rosie

That #FanQuestion Moment

So, with the increasing volume of Fan Questions, I figured that I’d make a banner for said occasion. Maybe even give it a name. Probably something like “Sessions with C. Desert Rose”.

Oh, wow! I kind of dig that! :D

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first ever (not so first, really) “Sessions with C. Desert Rose”.

BOOM! Banner! :D Lol

Anyhow, on to the question. I was asked:

What are the biggest criticisms readers have about your writing? Do you think they are valid?

First off, I’ll start with the latter part of this question. This is because I find it a tad bit more relevant, as well as relative.

What do I mean by that?

Well, validity is in the eye of the beholder, just as opinions are relative. The secondary part of this question speaks of just that, “Personal Opinion”.

Everyone that gives their opinion does so because they believe their points are valid, however askew those points might be from fact.

These things are not interchangeable; opinion, validity and fact. They typically go hand in hand. A person gives his/her opinion, portraying that opinion as fact, and later on seeks validity for said opinion.

For example:

Person One: That ball is red!

Person Two: Not it’s not, it’s pink.

Person One: Actually, pink is in the “red family” therefore, it’s red.

Person Two: While you have a “valid point” the “fact” is that the ball is not red, but pink.

Person One: Well, at least you saw my point. Thanks.

What most people express about what they do not so much like, in regards to my works, is the style.

Yes, that’s right. The style.

I like to think that I have a style all my own. But, before I get into that, I have to say a few things which revert back to what I was initially speaking about.

Just because your opinion says that my works “style isn’t right”  by no means makes it a fact. If you need to find validity in your opinion, then that’s fine. However, you won’t get that confirmation from me. In the realm of style, it’s all a matter of perspective.
Contrary to popular belief, NOT EVERY AUTHOR has to fit into this preordained template of writing style that society has concocted.

Now, that that’s out of the way. Allow me to elaborate a little bit about my style of writing.

Like many authors, my characters whisper in my ear and narrate the story that they want me to tell on their behalf. Like many authors, several of my stories are in first person.

Here is where my style differs from other authors.

I write the story exactly how my character narrates it. I listen to their words intently; the pitch, the emotion, the passion or lack thereof, the personality. Then I take all of these things and write them exactly how I see them.

Azriel, for example, is a character that is centuries old. While his words are few, they have a profound power. This translates into him, many a time, using one word sentences. Sometimes two or three worded sentences.

Here is an example of that.

EXCERPT

Bed two.

The doctors, the running, the yelling. The focus on bringing her back, futile. It was incredibly sad to say that she was just a child. A baby. Five years of age. Why did ‘fate’ find it necessary to take her? She had yet to even commence to live. It was not my choice. I merely followed orders.

Her soul was lovely, just like a little girl’s should be. A soft pink. Like a princess, I mused. Beautiful. “Come child.” I extended my hand so that she would take it.

“Where am I going?” She asked. The innocence in her voice was heart breaking. Or would be, if I had a heart.

“I’m taking you to a safe place. Somewhere where you will never feel pain again. You will be happy there sweet child.”

“Cindy,” she said. “My name is Cindy.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Her smile seemed as though it could quite literally light up the room. “Well Cindy, do you see that very pretty light just there?” I pointed.

“Yes.” She responded with bright eyes.

“Walk into it. Go on child. Pretty Cindy.”

In the above excerpt you can see how powerful Azriel’s words are. Short and sweet.

YET, many so called Editors would dub this as incorrect because it does not follow the EXACT rules of “Editorial Engagement”. Some sentences may seem choppy to certain people, however in my mind, that is exactly how Azriel told me it should be, because THAT is his pattern of speech. Who am I to argue?

I often think that Editors (and other authors that consider themselves editors) want to extract the originality, soul and personality of a character, all in the name of the work being grammatically correct.

To them I say this;

A work CAN be grammatically correct and still possess the characters independent personality.

Here is what I am trying to say—it’s the “Catch 22” of first person narrative—there are too many of you not giving leeway to character personality. You are TOO fixed on it being “correct” that you fail to hear the character’s voice.

At any given moment, if my work were a 3rd person narrative, then I would comply 100% with ANY Editor in regards to grammar and punctuation! That’s a guarantee. As a matter of fact, my most recent novelette, “Nethanyel’s Lady Lune” is 3rd person narrative and the syntax is immaculate. Why? Because in 3rd person narrative it’s up to the author to tell the story from an outside perspective, which gives no room for the character to show his/her personality throughout the narrative. In this predicament, the character only has his/her dialogue to demonstrate their persona.

Yet, very few times, if any, do you encounter a person that speaks with 100% proper grammar. So, in first person writing, I think that it’s important to show that.

I know not of a single person that says (when speaking aloud), “I am going to go to the store.” Usually, it’s more like, “Hey, Imma go to da store.”

I say all that, to say this; my personal style stays true to the characters independence and demeanor. If that makes it editorially/grammatically incorrect in some aspects, then I’m perfectly okay with that. I see it like this; I am being true to whom the character is telling me they are. Nothing more and nothing less. Why? Well, because I wouldn’t want someone to portray me like something/someone I’m not. So, I doubt my characters would want me to do that to them.

Here is what I am trying to say, as well as my answer to the fan question.

You out there whom call yourself “ Literary Editorial Experts “, please, remove the rod from your anal cavity and give “CREATIVE WRITING” a break from once!
If you’re so much better than me, then show me what you got! Write a story in 1st person that won’t depict the characters as robots, but shows their true independence and temperament.
Yes, people often complain about my “writing style”, believing that their points are valid just because they say so. Do I think they are valid? Not so much.

Well, that’s is for this installment of “Sessions with C. Desert Rose”. If YOU have a question you’d like to ask me, email me: cdesertrose1@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you.

Or, hey, why not just comment below? It’d be great to hear your thoughts.

Toodles,

Rose

Just Out by Synful Desire!

Title: Alan, Fay and Demona: Preludes of Prism 1

Author: Synful Desire

Publisher: All Authors Publishing House

Genre: Contemporary Fiction based on True Events

Release Date: November 17th, 2015

Blurb:

What happens when passion blinds reason? The ardent fire of desire meets the shocking and harsh blows of reality in this Prelude of Prism. The convoluted relationships of three individuals morph into a rainbow of disarray.

EXCERPT:
FAY

4:08 AM

It was that moment when it hit home. My life was to be forever altered. The realization poured over me, as wet as the bottom bedroom sheet became. I almost screamed, first believing it was done. However, when I discovered the substance was just water, my fright tapered off slightly.

The bag was already packed. The telephone numbers already on standby. Now for the tough part: waking up the man—no, young boy—responsible for this predicament.

“Alan wake up.” His response was a moan, the wrinkling of his nose and switching from lying on his back to on his side, away from me.

Agitated, I slapped his face. He bolted upright ready to retaliate but lowered his hand as soon as he realized it was me.

“Fay what the hell d’ya hit me for?” He slurred.

“We’ve gotta get to the hospital! My water broke.”

Alan sprung into action. He notified the hospital, trying not to show his panic as he loaded the prepped satchel into the car and guided me into the passenger’s seat.

 

Guest Post by Queen of Spades

Hello Reader!

Thanks, as always, for stopping by. Today I have a special Guest Post by Queen of Spades, whom I asked to drop by and talk to us all a bit. I’m happy to present you all with an inside look at Queen experience with NaPoWriMo.

Queen, after you…!

My experience with the Poetic side of WriMo

C. Desert Rose, thanks for allowing me to Guest Post on your blog. Today, I’d like to talk about my adventures with the Poetic side of WriMo, but first let’s give a bit of background on the Novel side of WriMo, if you will.

Image courtesy of National Novel Writing Month

At: http://www.nanowrimo.org

The month of November marks National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). In short, it is an annual Internet based creative writing project that challenges its participants to write 50,000 words (the minimum number of words for a novel) from November 1st until 11:59 PM on November 30th. The main goal of NaNoWriMo is to get people writing and keep them motivated through the process (Source: Wikipedia).

I do applaud those who are participating in NaNoWriMo. In fact, I will be the one doing the cheering.

Yet, this isn’t the type of WriMo I have previously anticipated in.

There is another type of creating project of this same magnitude that I participate in—the poetry equivalent, called NaPoWriMo. This occurs in April, to coincide with National Poetry Month. The goal for NaPoWriMo is similar—to write thirty poems in thirty days.

I did not participate this year (more on why to be revealed later)—I did a different spin on honoring National Poetry Month—but I have done it in the past. Through it, I have learned quite a few things, which may or may not be different than what story writers experience.

(1) The first rendition may not be the best rendition.

The majority of the poems I write in 30 day challenges tend to be freestyles. Meaning, I just go with whatever thought is in my head without doing the whole edit as I write. Sometimes, the end result is something worth bragging about; other times, it’s something you wouldn’t even tell your mama about.

What do I do in that case? Do I tamper with it or leave it be?

Well, it depends.

If it’s a poem I think I want to include in a collection, then I come back to it. However, I wait until after the thirty days and edit in terms of flow (obvious syntax goofs I tackle on sight). If it is really one that won’t go beyond the pages of my notebook or my online journal, then I just leave it be.

(2) Everyday writing can get exhausting.

There are so many claims touted when it comes to everyday writing. One of the main statements is that everyday writing decreases and can eliminate writers block. To others, there’s no such thing as writer’s block.

From my own experiences, the everyday writing hypothesis isn’t accurate all the time.

Also, for me, writer’s block is a thing.

My pen is definitely more fluid when I can write about what I choose (freestyle) or something I’m familiar with. Yet, there wouldn’t be much of a challenge if one isn’t taken out of her norm. For example, let’s say the following was an assignment.

Day 9: Write about Star Trek in the form of a sonnet.

From the surface, one would think that given the subject matter and the form of poetry would be an advantage.

However, if I’m struggling to write even a few words in general, the addition of a topic I’m not exuberant about only compounds anxiety as opposed to taking it away. It takes extra energy to write when there is a block, and if I look at the finished product immediately, I tend to chunk it in the trash.

Or, even worse, I got so exasperated to the point where I’d feel like skipping a day and just end up writing two entries to make up for it the next day.

(3) The percentage of content that sees the light of publication may not be as high as originally projected.

In the thirty day challenges I’ve taken over the years, I have found that on average, only three to six poems a year make the cut for publishing contention. Usually, I hold on to the hope that at least half of what I write during the NaPoWriMo craze is what gets seen. Over the years, my percentage has been adjusted from 50% expectancy to 30% expectancy, and even with that, one may not get there.

(4) At times, it was more stressful than fun.

I’m the type of person who likes reaching my goal, so I do feel bad if I don’t achieve what I set out to do. On top of that, I also am a “wee bit” of a perfectionist.

In 2014, the writing of thirty poems in a month got somewhat stressful and my best work didn’t come into fruition. That led to my decision to take a bit of a hiatus and not do it for this year.

During this hiatus, something interesting happened. I was able to write lines and stanzas that did not feel forced. No, it wasn’t always every day but it was frequent enough to where I knew for certain there weren’t any restraints mimicking a block of any kind.  Soon, I had enough poetry for two projects.

One was the joint venture I did with M.J. Holman entitled Waves to Light.

The other is my poetry collection coming this December—Spaded Truths 2: Life-O-Suction.

Does this mean I won’t be doing NaPoWriMo anymore? We will just have to see what April 2016 will bring.

Queen, thank you so much for stopping by. It’s always a pleasure to have you.

Toodles my dearies.

Come get a S.K.A.R.: Just out!

Title: Simi’s Komma: Amplified Reminiscence

Author: Da’Kharta Rising

Publishing House: All Authors Publishing House

Genre: New Adult Dark Drama

Release Date: Friday, November 13th, 2015

Papyrus is a small town that’s not a fan of anything different. Here we meet four long time friends.

Hiphen is known for being highly observant one. Rod is known as the go with the flow type. Point is a tomboy of sorts that takes action and asks questions later. Simi is the leader of the squad who has a maturity beyond his years.

When transfer student Komma Plush arrives, Simi takes it upon himself to show her the ropes of a new town yet at first Komma is highly hesitant. What follows takes Simi on an incredible journey that not only threatens his friendships but also the balance of Papyrus.

S.K.A.R. not only takes into account the previously released rendition of Simi’s Komma but fast forwards to follow the life of the friends and the town.

Why? Because some scars never heal.

Welcome to Papyrus

Two evergreen trees sat on either side of Sentence Avenue. In front of one of the trees was a blue-gray marble sign. Shiny gold words were embossed on the sign’s surface. It read: Welcome to Papyrus.

Papyrus was like any small town. Sentence Avenue was the one major street. If one was to ask a local for his address, he may not be able to tell you the name of his street. He’d probably say “two roads off of Sentence” or he would name a landmark just on the outskirts. Sometimes, even the GPS would get confused. That was a testament to the small construction of Papyrus.

No one would have taken note of this town if it weren’t for what occurred. There has been so much speculation—the main one being motive.

Did things really have to turn out this way?

No, Hiphen wasn’t featured on Dateline NBC. No money was offered by any magazines (tabloids included) or any enticement of a book deal. The record had to be set straight by someone who was actually there and knew the people involved. Hiphen was that connection. It is for that reason alone he granted me permission to share his story with the world.

This is where my intro ends and his story begins.

Come savor the drama.

Read “S.K.A.R.” by Da’Kharta Rising.

Dealing with Frenemies

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

So, what thousand am I thinking of?

I received a Fan Question and I find it very imperative to answer, only because when I read it, I immediately put myself in his shoes and thought to myself, “Rose, what would YOU do?”

Here is the question.

Hi Miss Desert Rose,

I have a question for you. My best friend and I are both writers and we submitted manuscripts to a publishing company. I got accepted; he didn’t. I did ask him if this would impact our friendship in anyway. He assured me that it wouldn’t.

I’d kept an open line of communication with him and expressed some of the things I faced with the work during the publication process because he said he was still my friend.

After my work got published under the label, he expressed an interest in reviewing the work. Soon months went by but I didn’t hear anything from him. Each time I asked, he would cite that he was busy or that he was working on it.

Finally, I get the review back and certain language in his thoughts felt like low blows.

I know that critical reviews can be just as helpful (if not more helpful) than rave reviews, but I can’t help but feel betrayed. What should I do, if anything?

Dominic

Dominic, you are not alone. MANY of us have gone through similar situations.

In order to best answer your question, I think that I really have to put myself in your shoes. So, for the sake of replying, I’ll address this question as if it were me.

~ My Thinking Face ~

You know, I like to think of myself as a good person. A decent person. I like to be happy for others’ successes, and always take time out to pat people on the back when I think they’ve earned it.

The same, however, can’t be said about some people. SOME PEOPLE, are vindictive, cumbersome, egocentric, assholes.

Yes, I know that was a bit harsh. Sorry. But, it’s the truth.

Sometimes, people become so self-invested that when things don’t work out their way, they make it a point to attack those whom have acquired the success they have not. The worst part of it all is that they do so behind the farce of “a friend”.

They are called “Frenemies”.

Per the Urban Dictionary it is:

Frenemy
An enemy disguised as a friend.
“What do you think about frenemies?”

“I say, keep your friends close, and your frenemies closer”

In THIS market, you’ll find that a lot. More than most people care to acknowledge.
What the frenemy does is follow your every move as though they are invested in your achievements, just so that once you’ve gained it, they can be the first to pummel your self-esteem.  Most of the time they do this by slandering the trivial. They will take inconsequential details and create an issue out of it just to make you and those who work with and for you feel like shit.

I might talk about her a lot … as a matter of fact, I’m certain I do. But let’s look at Stephenie Meyer, the author of the Twilight Saga. I can guarantee that at least 50% of the bad reviews she got on her books had everything to do with people that were envious of her success. They took trivial things, like a missing comma, or italics, and made a thing out of it, just to make her look like a bad writer. Yet, THAT DIDN’T STOP HER BOOKS from becoming prosperous and eventually being turning into movies, did it?

The function of the frenemy is to tear you down. Why? Because in tearing YOU down, they build themselves back up. They have to feel superior to you at all times in order for them to feel good about themselves.
But, in the end, what does this accomplish.

NOTHING!
Well, nothing, that is, except for them making themselves out to look like asinine mules and little green envy monsters. In the end, it is those people (the frenemies) who wind up alone, surrounded by foes and decidedly unsuccessful.

I realize that I still haven’t answered the question, bear with me. I’m getting to it. LOL
Let me get my “Ophra, SMH Gif” …
How would I act?
Honestly, it’s hard to say. I might be fuming at first. Like, habanero hot. I’d probably be ready to reach out and punch someone. Of course, I wouldn’t act on it. I’m not the retaliative or vindictive type.

You see, I don’t mind a critical review from an angle that one realizes comes from an honest place. I mean, if you really hate the book, then that’s fine. Hate it, by all means.
Yet, if you’re talking junk about the book because you’re just being an ass, that’s a whole other level of stupid.
What’s that term they use nowadays…?



Trolls/Trolling, methinks.

That is to say, being a prick on the internet because you can. Typically unleashing one or more cynical or sarcastic remarks on an innocent by-stander, because it’s the internet and, hey, you can.


So, what would I do?
Short answer; nothing.
Long answer …
Although, I would probably be fuming from the initial cretinous comments—only because I know where they are really coming from—I would do nothing. I will not put my character and reputation on the line just to give the frenemy the pleasure of basking in the grief he/she brings. Basically, I’d let him/her dig their own graves.
Meanwhile, I would keep my head held high, because you know what? At the end of the day, I ACCOMPLISHED what he/she couldn’t.
Period.
FRENEMIES BE DAMNED!
Dominic, keep doing what you’re doing. Keep pushing forward and hold your head high, because the point is—and in the most laymen terms possible—your friend is being a hatter.

Tah-tah,
Rosie :D