Today's topic: When the Hero is really the Heroine.
Sounds a little confusing, no?
One of the core dictates of the romance genre in general is that there is a Hero, and he 'saves' the Heroine, but what happens when this dictate gets tossed on it's ear and the Heroine is the one saving the day? She's the one seducing the Hero, and the one telling the Hero what's good for him -- and no, I'm not talking about the Heroine who blithely goes her own way while the Hero looks congenially on because he knows she's going to come a cropper and he will swoop in to save her from ruin. I'm talking about the Heroine who has the power, the will and the way to show the hero just what she wants, and demand he give it to her.
Now, I quite like reading these stories, find them empowering even, but I'm told they just don't sell. Apparently romance readers in general want the man in power and the woman subdued by him, the opposite just doesn't work. Why the hell not, is my question? Women want to let go, they say, want all their daily responsibilities taken off their shoulders as the man 'gives' them release. On a personal note, I've never felt so not in control of my life as when I was forced to become a SAHM -- then to let a man come in and tell me how it's going to be after all that? Oh hell no!
A big strong man at my beck and call - oh yes, that could work in my ideal world!
How say you all?
Mar 29, 2008
Author Interview: Eden Rivers
Author Name: Eden Rivers
Year started writing for LI: 2008
Titles: Nature’s Pentacle (March 25 ’08), Strange Sabbats (coming soon)
Web Page: http://www.edenrivers.com
What genre do you write in, and why? :
Erotic romance, mostly paranormal. I also write straight paranormal and urban fantasy under a different name. Why? Just what interests me, I guess.
How much time do you spend writing every week? :
Countless hours. I write full time.
What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :
Gosh, that would be back in grade school! It was about a flower goddess. Guess my pagan roots came out early…
How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? :
When they make my husband blush!
Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy? :
No comment.
Favorite candy while writing? :
Chocolate!
Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :
A fantasy.
What inspires you to write? :
Everything! Dreams, thoughts, conversations, memories, books, music… The list is endless.
What music inspires your writing? :
Depends on my mood, anything from rock, to Celtic, to classical, to international…
Plotter or a Panster? :
I go both ways.
Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? :
No cat. But my mini poodle begs to get in my lap when I write.
What is your most embarrassing moment as an erotic romance author? :
I guess just dealing with other writers who aren’t open to the genre, and fielding questions like, “But do your children know what you do?”
Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? :
In my office, which opens onto the kitchen, while dinnertime chaos and homework chaos happens in the background. And I do it all the time. Sigh.
When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? :
Force myself to sit down and type till it starts flowing again. Pure determination!
Any outrageous liaisons in your past?
Caught “parking” off a deserted road by the police during high school, with my then boyfriend, who’s now husband. Most embarrassing moment in my life.
Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? :
Not telling, but it’s really, truly outrageous!
What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? :
Eggplant parmesan and red wine in a restaurant styled like an old fashioned private library, in Door County, WI, on my honeymoon.
What kind of books do you read for fun? :
Any great fiction!
Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? :
My life couldn’t possibly be more different from my stories--well except that I’m pagan like many of my characters.
If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? :
No idea.
Soulmates? Do you believe? :
Nope. Fun in fiction, but in real life marriage is about hard work, love, common interests, communication, compromises, and sticking out the tough times.
Sex with anyone famous? :
Nope.
Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? :
Cake. No soda. Herb tea.
Mar 27, 2008
It was a dark and stormy night
In the comic strip Peanuts, Snoopy works often on his great American novel. It always starts out with the title words to this post. (*trivia note* A very famous book does start out in just that way. Can anyone name it? For a prize of course :). )
First lines are vital to a story. After all, the reader makes a decision to either stop or keep going. If an author snags the reader’s interest in that first line, they might just have them for the whole book.
There are many ways to start a book from dialogue to action. What’s best? Depends on the story and the type of tale you’re telling.
One recent line that drew me in, “This month my name is Mary and, apparently, I'm as contrary as the nursery rhyme.” It's from Broken by Megan Hart. It drew me in immediately to this woman’s world. I hadn’t read the back blurb so made it that much more thrilling to figure out what was going on in those initial sentences.
Another good one: From Raine Weaver’s “Incubus,” “It was the kiss of the night wind through the open window that first attracted her."
So, what’s the best first line you’ve read of a book? Can be recent or in the past. I’m curious to see what’s grabbing interest.
Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
http://www.mechelearmstrong.com/
http://www.melanylogen.com/
First lines are vital to a story. After all, the reader makes a decision to either stop or keep going. If an author snags the reader’s interest in that first line, they might just have them for the whole book.
There are many ways to start a book from dialogue to action. What’s best? Depends on the story and the type of tale you’re telling.
One recent line that drew me in, “This month my name is Mary and, apparently, I'm as contrary as the nursery rhyme.” It's from Broken by Megan Hart. It drew me in immediately to this woman’s world. I hadn’t read the back blurb so made it that much more thrilling to figure out what was going on in those initial sentences.
Another good one: From Raine Weaver’s “Incubus,” “It was the kiss of the night wind through the open window that first attracted her."
So, what’s the best first line you’ve read of a book? Can be recent or in the past. I’m curious to see what’s grabbing interest.
Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
http://www.mechelearmstrong.com/
http://www.melanylogen.com/
Mar 26, 2008
Them's Fightin' Words
On Monday MAN, OH MAN: Writing M/M Fiction for Kinks and Ca$h goes live at Fictionwise And while the book is not being published through Loose Id, I did interview Loose Id authors, editors and the amazing Treva Hart extensively, so I thought it might be all right to share a snippet.
When I was researching this book, one of the complaints I repeatedly heard from readers and reviewers had to do with the lack of believable and meaningful conflict in M/M fiction. So today I thought I'd give you all something to fight about.
Okay, you’ve got your characters. It’s time to think about how you’re going to tell their story. Story = Plot.
When we start talking about conflict and goals and motivation — the building blocks of plot — a lot of writers get that glazed look on their faces. So listen up. Next to character, the single most important element of your book is the plot.
A story is not made up of random things happening. That’s called real life; it doesn’t always make for good fiction. Let alone happy endings. No, the events or scenes of a story evolve naturally — organically — from earlier events or scenes. They have to make sense, they have to be there for a reason — you’re not just filling space between sex scenes. And in order for these events or scenes within your story to make sense, you have to plan them. (This is why an outline is such a good idea.)
The way it works is that each event or scene will complicate the situation between your protagonists a little more. The divide between them will seem to grow wider and wider with each scene or event. Conflict and problems and frustration will rise right along with sexual tension and attraction. Your characters are falling deeper in love — whether they like it or not — while the obstacles between them mount.
Now, you might be thinking that this is the opposite way it should work. There are plenty of obstacles to any two people building a life together, and you’ve got two great guys who, in theory, should be perfect for one another. Isn’t your job to swiftly move them around the potential roadblocks and get them together? Of course it is, but getting them together is called the ending. Your story is over at that point. So unlike real life, your job isn’t to smooth the course of true love starting on page one. Your job is to create enough problems and obstacles to make up a story about how these two met, fell in love, and finally worked out the differences between them so they could have a Happily Ever After. It’s called telling a story.
That said, plot is where storytelling gets tricky for a lot of M/M writers, even those currently selling stories. Conflict, in particular, is a weak point for most M/M writers. Yep, the majority of M/M writers do not understand the difference between genuine conflict and contrived bickering between characters. If you can master this concept, you’ll have an edge over your fellow writers.
There is no story without conflict.
Conflict is the clash of your characters opposing goals and motivations — their hopes, dreams, ambitions, and desires running headlong into someone else’s fears, insecurities, plans, and prejudices. So, yeah, your characters may squabble about a variety of things, but the squabbling needs to result from something more dramatic and fundamental than he’s a neatnik falling hard for a slob — not that the Odd Couple dynamic can’t work; it’s the stuff of romantic comedy, but at the heart of those differences should be something profound.
In far too many stories, the only conflict or obstacle to the lovers’ happy ending is the external conflict provided by the genre plot: amnesia, competing for the same job, marrying for money (or to hide sexuality), a tornado or a tidal wave. That’s fine as far as it goes — but it doesn’t go very far. Obstacles have to be complex enough to believably keep two smart, rational, well-suited men apart from each other — and this distance has to be emotional as well as physical.
A competently executed romance plot combines external (situational) and internal (personal) conflict.
An example of external conflict would be found in my novel Fatal Shadows when Homicide Detective Jake Riordan suspects bookseller Adrien English of murder. That’s an external conflict supplied by the plot. Jake’s suspicion is a barrier to his growing awareness of and attraction to Adrien. Another potentially final barrier is that Adrien in being stalked. An HEA is contingent on his survival. Both of these are external (situational) conflicts and complications.
External conflicts are relatively easy to resolve.
The real barrier to Adrien and Jake’s happiness is Jake’s conflicted feelings about his own sexuality. Jake is a closeted cop, and he has no intention of leaving the safety of that closet. That’s an enormous obstacle to finding an HEA with Adrien. It is an internal (personal) conflict driven by Jake’s personality and character, and it dogs their relationship throughout the course of the series.
Usually the most intense and dramatic conflicts will be the internal ones. But — please take note here —
You need both internal and external conflict in order to write a satisfying romance.
One detail: remember not to cook up conflict so destructive or insurmountable that you’re unable to resolve it believably within your allotted timeframe. The reader will work with you, but you’ve got to do the heavy lifting. Some of this has to do with pacing. If you throw a gigantic and disastrous point of contention between your characters in the final third of the book, you’re unlikely to be able to resolve this without rushing — something readers resent. The successful working out of problems and differences is part of what readers find so emotionally satisfying; if you cheat them on this, they won’t believe in your HEA – or even your HFN (Happy For Now).
Romance is character-driven. Romance is all about emotion. So the best conflicts are going to be emotional ones — character-driven ones. Typical issues driving internal conflict include trust, control, self-image, sexuality.
In itself, Gosh, he’s cute but he’s a vampire! is not enough conflict. Not for fiction, anyway. Real life, yeah, that could be complicated. Remember, fiction is not real life. Fiction is bigger — and better — than real life. The best fictional conflicts result in one protagonist fighting himself and his attraction to the other protagonist. So our plot becomes Gosh, he’s cute but he’s a vampire — and I’ve sworn my life to destroying all vampires. This time it’s personal.
It’s got to be personal, or else the conflict devolves into nothing more than heated intellectual debate, and your characters spend pages bickering. That gets old fast. We expect mature, intelligent, strong-willed people to disagree, and to work their differences out. Your challenge is to make it difficult for them to work those differences out. Take a subject like the outing of public figures. A lot of gay men disagree on whether it’s right to forcibly out public figures; that’s an intellectual disagreement. But suppose one of your protags is a reclusive, closeted actor, and the other is a crusading reporter for a gay magazine. Now they both have something to lose. Now it’s personal — and painful.
And the main reason it’s painful is because of a little something called sexual tension. Sexual tension is the physical desire characters feel for each other but are prevented from acting on because of all that external and internal conflict. The main ingredients are physical awareness — sexual attraction — and conflict.
Questions or comments?
Mar 25, 2008
On Writing Nature's Pentacle
Here I am, after months of hard work, release day! Nature’s Pentacle is a red hot paranormal erotic romance. When witches use sexual energy in a rite to mend the shattered environment, the forces set in motion carry them into a vortex of loss, a sizzling ménage, and finally, to the love they never imagined they’d find.
When beginning a manuscript, some authors develop their characters first. Others work out the plot, and character development follows. With Nature’s Pentacle, the entire book began as a vivid image of the sexual rite at the start of the story. I saw the pairs of witches coupling within the outline of the giant pentacle, felt the urgency of the rite, sensed their anxiety, saw the drought ravaged forest surrounding the clearing where the witches gathered.
From there, I went on to develop Lena and Matt’s characters. Next, I created Kenji, the third member of the ménage, and then I started crafting the plot. But all this began with a vivid image that popped into my head one night as I was trying to fall asleep. Here’s a summary of the story that image engendered:
When Lena and Matt join other witches in a forbidden rite to heal a shattered environment, Lena's roommate talks to the press, plunging their lives into chaos. Forced to flee vigilantes and a witch with a sinister agenda, they're drawn to each other despite Matt's ties to Kenji, the witch who rescued him from a troubled past.
Reluctant to accept Matt’s love, Lena fears her dark family secrets make her an unsuitable partner. When she's kidnapped following a rite to calm a hurricane, the ménage she's become entangled in is the least of her problems. Escaping danger is only the first step if Matt and Lena are going to pull themselves out of the freefall that follows losing everything they thought they wanted.
I sat down and wrote the first chapter, the rite of the pentacle, in under an hour. From there, the entire manuscript came tumbling out over the course of eight weeks, one scene after another. Some stories are so determined to tell themselves, my muse handcuffs me to the computer, stands behind me, whip in hand, and only lets me up for an occasional meal or a few hours of sleep. Nature’s Pentacle was one of those manuscripts.
I hope you enjoy reading the story, because I sure had fun writing it!
Eden Rivers
www.edenrivers.com
Mar 24, 2008
Hot Topic - Sex while in separate rooms
Phone sex.
And, of course, cybersex it's more technological sister in arms (or should that be spread legs?)
Is it cheating on your spouse? Or no different than taking yourself in hand in the shower if you're feeling the urge and no one else is around? You'll notice a lack of visual or 'porn' stimulus being mentioned -- that's a whole other topic for a different day -- but what makes many, if not most people take the leap that interaction with a living breathing person who's a room, a State, even half a world away is cheating or adultery in every sense of the word?
Is it purely that: Interaction with a living person versus the obvious flat celluloid imagery of 'porn'? I never been one to be down on a partner for watching 'teh pornz', it would be a lot like the pot calling the kettle black in my house, but I'd admit I'd feel disappointment if my partner took up calling phone sex lines or cybering with a stranger -- in good part because he can do that with me for free if only he'd asked *evil grin*.
Then of course if you run with the potential of phone or cyber sex in storyline, there is quite a reversal of how loving over the airwaves is seen. In fact I've read some amazing phone or cyber scenes that break open a character, potentially much in the same way BDSM can unlock the repressed emotions of either the submissive, or even the Master or Mistress. Although I do realise that comparision might be felt as a little of a stretch by many, I'm sure, and of course between people who are ultimately, single. Big difference that, being single and not.
So, what's your take on it?
AnneD
And, of course, cybersex it's more technological sister in arms (or should that be spread legs?)
Is it cheating on your spouse? Or no different than taking yourself in hand in the shower if you're feeling the urge and no one else is around? You'll notice a lack of visual or 'porn' stimulus being mentioned -- that's a whole other topic for a different day -- but what makes many, if not most people take the leap that interaction with a living breathing person who's a room, a State, even half a world away is cheating or adultery in every sense of the word?
Is it purely that: Interaction with a living person versus the obvious flat celluloid imagery of 'porn'? I never been one to be down on a partner for watching 'teh pornz', it would be a lot like the pot calling the kettle black in my house, but I'd admit I'd feel disappointment if my partner took up calling phone sex lines or cybering with a stranger -- in good part because he can do that with me for free if only he'd asked *evil grin*.
Then of course if you run with the potential of phone or cyber sex in storyline, there is quite a reversal of how loving over the airwaves is seen. In fact I've read some amazing phone or cyber scenes that break open a character, potentially much in the same way BDSM can unlock the repressed emotions of either the submissive, or even the Master or Mistress. Although I do realise that comparision might be felt as a little of a stretch by many, I'm sure, and of course between people who are ultimately, single. Big difference that, being single and not.
So, what's your take on it?
AnneD
Mar 21, 2008
Do you time travel, too?
I've been time traveling this week, and it's been a hell of a ride! I blipped from 1910 to the end of the Universe with the Doctor and hung around the Regency with Miss Austen Regrets. Then I experienced the 21st century atop a time rift with Torchwood.
Most of my stories are contemporary with a paranormal element or two thrown in: werewolves, witches, telekinesis, telepathy. But I must admit I had fun writing The Men on Mars. It was completely out of my element--a futuristic set on Mars and the Moon. It took me back to the first time I saw Star Wars and to this paper I wrote in the second grade on flying cars and to my science fair project: The House of the Future. It's fun to think of new technology and new governments. Or blend in the old.
I actually started writing The Men on Mars after a Firefly marathon.
Another element of time travel, though, is the fish out of water. Whether you travel forward or back--what will be different? What will remain the same, timeless? And how would you cope with those differences? I was once working on a story where a Regency man comes to the present time. What would he make of TV? How would he rationalize it to himself? What would he make of our toilets and dish washers?
You can tell I'm a writer when I go off on a tangeant of What Ifs.
So tell me, do you time travel? Or do you like to keep your feet grounded in the 21st century? And if you do venture forth to other decades or centuries, which are your favorites?
Most of my stories are contemporary with a paranormal element or two thrown in: werewolves, witches, telekinesis, telepathy. But I must admit I had fun writing The Men on Mars. It was completely out of my element--a futuristic set on Mars and the Moon. It took me back to the first time I saw Star Wars and to this paper I wrote in the second grade on flying cars and to my science fair project: The House of the Future. It's fun to think of new technology and new governments. Or blend in the old.
I actually started writing The Men on Mars after a Firefly marathon.
Another element of time travel, though, is the fish out of water. Whether you travel forward or back--what will be different? What will remain the same, timeless? And how would you cope with those differences? I was once working on a story where a Regency man comes to the present time. What would he make of TV? How would he rationalize it to himself? What would he make of our toilets and dish washers?
You can tell I'm a writer when I go off on a tangeant of What Ifs.
So tell me, do you time travel? Or do you like to keep your feet grounded in the 21st century? And if you do venture forth to other decades or centuries, which are your favorites?
Mar 20, 2008
Where do you get your ideas?
For a long time I would laugh whenever I heard a writer complain of a reader asking this question. I stopped laughing the day it happened to me. I was on holiday in Tuscany in a hotel largely taken over by British visitors. I avoided the conversations involving work and questions of what everyone did for a living as long as I could. After all, when on holiday why talk about work? I also strongly feel that a person isn’t necessarily shaped by what they do for a living. If a person is lucky enough to make their hobby their career, then perhaps there’s some truth to be found in how a person earns their income. However, many people work in jobs they detest. They do what they need to do to pay the bills, and have to regulate what they love to do to hours outside of the office. This applies to most writers, but that’s another subject.
So, when a woman asked me what I ‘do’, sheer devilment took hold of me and I said “I’m a writer.” This is the truth and it’s closer to who I am than anything I’ve had to do keep a roof over my head or put food on the table. Her eyes positively lit up.
“I’ve never met a writer before,” she said. “Where DO you get your ideas?”
And right there I found myself speechless. Totally unprepared, I had no idea how to answer her. In truth, there is no definitive answer to this question. The truth is that ideas come from anywhere and everywhere. You will get an idea from something someone said, something you read, or something you saw. You might file an event away and it won’t be until days, weeks, months, sometimes years later, when something else occurs, and then your mind makes a connection so that suddenly you have a story.
I don’t know if everyone has this ability to make seemingly random connections or if writers are simply people who are aware of this skill and choose to use it. In any case, writers appear to see the world a little differently. People often accuse writers of living in a fantasy world, and yet many writers appear to see the world as a stark reality. Writers see all the good and bad in the world for without conflict there is no story. They are always cataloging information in their minds or on paper to use at some undefined time. Writers also play the ‘What If’ game.
Perhaps the easiest way is to show by example. Take my m/m contemporary book “Snow Angel.” Check out this page at Loose-Id to read the prologue that the publisher chose as an excerpt. The prologue was primarily the whole basis of my story. I saw someone walking along a road and mistaking a person’s identity. I thought ‘what if’ I created a brother and sister with similar features and this guy grabbed the wrong person?
With “Uly’s Comet”, which was the start of my Swithin Chronicles trilogy -- the third book scheduled for the beginning of April -- I simply saw a man sitting on a bench in open parkland and a thief about to creep up on him. I had no idea as to the identity of these characters, or the thief’s sex, let alone their sexuality. Then a few weeks later, I was looking through a baby-naming book in search of a name for another completely unrelated project, and I came across a word: Shavar (meaning Comet). At once, I knew the identity of the man sitting on the bench as well as why he sat there. I then asked myself questions as to what could be different about his race. I created the Swithin who freely take lovers of either sex. That idea filled in the missing pieces. I would set a few rules that the Swithin prince had to live by then lay temptation in his path. One reader remarked that the comet books are a cross between Prince and the Pauper meets Arabian Nights. The comparison hadn’t occurred to me until someone brought it to my attention, but it makes me smile and laugh.
There’s a school of thought that you can write a story from someone just giving you a few unrelated words. Maybe even a single word. The flash fiction pieces the Loose-Id authors write here proves the theory. You can also write from a title only. My very first published short story came from a five-word title.
So, the simple answer to where writers get their ideas from is anywhere and everywhere. However, there’s nothing simple about it. There’s a reason they call life stranger than fiction. Ideas bombard us every day. A writer is someone with the ability to see where worlds collide and people or events connect in new, interesting, and unpredictable ways. Happy Reading!
Sharon Maria Bidwell
aonia - where the muses live
http://www.sharonbidwell.co.uk
http://www.myspace.com/aonia
So, when a woman asked me what I ‘do’, sheer devilment took hold of me and I said “I’m a writer.” This is the truth and it’s closer to who I am than anything I’ve had to do keep a roof over my head or put food on the table. Her eyes positively lit up.
“I’ve never met a writer before,” she said. “Where DO you get your ideas?”
And right there I found myself speechless. Totally unprepared, I had no idea how to answer her. In truth, there is no definitive answer to this question. The truth is that ideas come from anywhere and everywhere. You will get an idea from something someone said, something you read, or something you saw. You might file an event away and it won’t be until days, weeks, months, sometimes years later, when something else occurs, and then your mind makes a connection so that suddenly you have a story.
I don’t know if everyone has this ability to make seemingly random connections or if writers are simply people who are aware of this skill and choose to use it. In any case, writers appear to see the world a little differently. People often accuse writers of living in a fantasy world, and yet many writers appear to see the world as a stark reality. Writers see all the good and bad in the world for without conflict there is no story. They are always cataloging information in their minds or on paper to use at some undefined time. Writers also play the ‘What If’ game.
Perhaps the easiest way is to show by example. Take my m/m contemporary book “Snow Angel.” Check out this page at Loose-Id to read the prologue that the publisher chose as an excerpt. The prologue was primarily the whole basis of my story. I saw someone walking along a road and mistaking a person’s identity. I thought ‘what if’ I created a brother and sister with similar features and this guy grabbed the wrong person?
With “Uly’s Comet”, which was the start of my Swithin Chronicles trilogy -- the third book scheduled for the beginning of April -- I simply saw a man sitting on a bench in open parkland and a thief about to creep up on him. I had no idea as to the identity of these characters, or the thief’s sex, let alone their sexuality. Then a few weeks later, I was looking through a baby-naming book in search of a name for another completely unrelated project, and I came across a word: Shavar (meaning Comet). At once, I knew the identity of the man sitting on the bench as well as why he sat there. I then asked myself questions as to what could be different about his race. I created the Swithin who freely take lovers of either sex. That idea filled in the missing pieces. I would set a few rules that the Swithin prince had to live by then lay temptation in his path. One reader remarked that the comet books are a cross between Prince and the Pauper meets Arabian Nights. The comparison hadn’t occurred to me until someone brought it to my attention, but it makes me smile and laugh.
There’s a school of thought that you can write a story from someone just giving you a few unrelated words. Maybe even a single word. The flash fiction pieces the Loose-Id authors write here proves the theory. You can also write from a title only. My very first published short story came from a five-word title.
So, the simple answer to where writers get their ideas from is anywhere and everywhere. However, there’s nothing simple about it. There’s a reason they call life stranger than fiction. Ideas bombard us every day. A writer is someone with the ability to see where worlds collide and people or events connect in new, interesting, and unpredictable ways. Happy Reading!
Sharon Maria Bidwell
aonia - where the muses live
http://www.sharonbidwell.co.uk
http://www.myspace.com/aonia
Mar 19, 2008
Mar 17, 2008
Hot Topic - Let's talk about hair
The long and short of it: today's topic is Hair.
Fabio - the historical romance writers ultimate cover hunk - he works the long mane and muscles like nobodies business. Thank God he never stooped to the mullet - the romantic kiss of death. But what about us girls (and guys) that like the idea of a man 'high and tight' - maybe just the tight factor. And then there are those men who are bald and proud of it (Bruce Willis and Jean-Luc, err... Patrick Stewart anyone?).
Then of course you move from the head to lower regions - Chests and underarms, then lower still with shaved genitalia. Shave or not to shave? Neatness versus looking prepubescent smooth? Ahhh... the options!
Then of course you move from the head to lower regions - Chests and underarms, then lower still with shaved genitalia. Shave or not to shave? Neatness versus looking prepubescent smooth? Ahhh... the options!
Mar 16, 2008
Historical Romances ~ with a Twist
I love history. I love romances. I cut my teeth on historical romances and I'm thrilled to hear that readers want more of them. In "The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon", history played an integral part of the story/romance. But of course, I had to add a paranormal twist. ;~p
Although "The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon" takes place in the present day, it's grounded in the past with visions, dreams and journal entries from the Renaissance during the time of Lucrezia Borgia.
I researched the heck for this story. I recently counted the number of individual websites I'd placed in my folder for the Borgia Book as I called it ;~D. the number was an amazing one hundred and fifty plus! They included everything from dress, food, perfume (vital to the story), music, politics, geography, stolen Nazi art, dance, the papacy, orgies, plane travel, security systems, floor plans for the castles, topography of the area around Ferrara, Italy and - the find of the century - I tracked down a multi-page geneology chart of the d'Este family including, of course, the most famous person to marry into the family: Lucrezia Borgia. All this to make the history and setting come alive.
I think this research paid off. Here's a recent note from a reader that I cherish:
You do a wonderful job with the settings in your books. It is one of the reasons I enjoy reading them so much.
Thank you, Cherie. Hearing this from a reader makes all the research worthwhile.
So, tell me, if you could visit any period of history, when and where would you go?
"The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon" is available at http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=410
Watch for more paranormal erotic historical romance coming from me this year.
Although "The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon" takes place in the present day, it's grounded in the past with visions, dreams and journal entries from the Renaissance during the time of Lucrezia Borgia.
I researched the heck for this story. I recently counted the number of individual websites I'd placed in my folder for the Borgia Book as I called it ;~D. the number was an amazing one hundred and fifty plus! They included everything from dress, food, perfume (vital to the story), music, politics, geography, stolen Nazi art, dance, the papacy, orgies, plane travel, security systems, floor plans for the castles, topography of the area around Ferrara, Italy and - the find of the century - I tracked down a multi-page geneology chart of the d'Este family including, of course, the most famous person to marry into the family: Lucrezia Borgia. All this to make the history and setting come alive.
I think this research paid off. Here's a recent note from a reader that I cherish:
You do a wonderful job with the settings in your books. It is one of the reasons I enjoy reading them so much.
Thank you, Cherie. Hearing this from a reader makes all the research worthwhile.
So, tell me, if you could visit any period of history, when and where would you go?
"The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon" is available at http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=410
Watch for more paranormal erotic historical romance coming from me this year.
Mar 13, 2008
Winner - Caitlyn Willows's Blog Contest
And the winner of a free download of INTO THE LAIR is Christina.
Christina, please email me at caitlyn@caitlynwillows.com and let me know which format you'd like, and I'll send the ebook your way.
:) Caitlyn
www.caitlynwillows.com
Christina, please email me at caitlyn@caitlynwillows.com and let me know which format you'd like, and I'll send the ebook your way.
:) Caitlyn
www.caitlynwillows.com
How Do You Choose A Book?
For publishers and authors this is the million dollar question: What makes a reader select a book? Logically, the person best able to answer would be the reader. I decided to start with myself. So, what makes me choose a book to read?
I've discovered my method of selection is basically the same whether I'm online, in a bookstore, or on Amazon. I receive newsletters from several epublishers regarding new releases. With the click of a button I can see cover, author name, and blurb, even read an excerpt. If the cover art catches my attention, I'll read the blurb on the back. If I like the blurb and the subject matter, I'll read the excerpt. If I like that, I purchase. My Amazon purchase method is a little different. In that case I already know what I want and simply search and buy (or place on the wish list for someone to buy for me). I generally won't buy fiction in a brick-and-mortar store. Those are the places where I browse for research books.
So...what about you? How do you choose a book? Comment here today and be eligible to receive a free download of my paranormal erotica, INTO THE LAIR. I'll select the winner at the end of the day. :)
I'm looking forward to your responses!
Caitlyn Willows
www.caitlynwillows.com
I've discovered my method of selection is basically the same whether I'm online, in a bookstore, or on Amazon. I receive newsletters from several epublishers regarding new releases. With the click of a button I can see cover, author name, and blurb, even read an excerpt. If the cover art catches my attention, I'll read the blurb on the back. If I like the blurb and the subject matter, I'll read the excerpt. If I like that, I purchase. My Amazon purchase method is a little different. In that case I already know what I want and simply search and buy (or place on the wish list for someone to buy for me). I generally won't buy fiction in a brick-and-mortar store. Those are the places where I browse for research books.
So...what about you? How do you choose a book? Comment here today and be eligible to receive a free download of my paranormal erotica, INTO THE LAIR. I'll select the winner at the end of the day. :)
I'm looking forward to your responses!
Caitlyn Willows
www.caitlynwillows.com
Mar 11, 2008
Irish Dreams - Available now
I am so thrilled to share with you, my story - Irish Dreams.
Sex therapist by day, erotic lucid dreaming sex kitten by night, Eryn can't understand the driving need to find her dream lover. Sure the dreams are hot, and the man is even hotter, but as a modern woman, she's not supposed to allow hormones to rule her.
When a trip to Ireland brings her face to face with the man of her dreams, though, she throws caution to the wind and submits. But what happens now that it's no longer a dream?
I really had a good time writing this story and bouncing ideas and back and forth with my friend Eileen. I also love the reviews I've received for this story!
Irish Dreams by Michelle Hasker is an erotic thrill ride filled with intriguing characters and an excellent plot. Simply put, it's HOT and I loved every minute of it.
(thank you Beth at ParaNormal Romance Reviews!)
Sex therapist by day, erotic lucid dreaming sex kitten by night, Eryn can't understand the driving need to find her dream lover. Sure the dreams are hot, and the man is even hotter, but as a modern woman, she's not supposed to allow hormones to rule her.
When a trip to Ireland brings her face to face with the man of her dreams, though, she throws caution to the wind and submits. But what happens now that it's no longer a dream?
I really had a good time writing this story and bouncing ideas and back and forth with my friend Eileen. I also love the reviews I've received for this story!
Irish Dreams by Michelle Hasker is an erotic thrill ride filled with intriguing characters and an excellent plot. Simply put, it's HOT and I loved every minute of it.
(thank you Beth at ParaNormal Romance Reviews!)
EXCERPT: "Hot to Trot", to be Released April 1!
HOT TO TROT BY BARRIE ABALARD, COMING APRIL 1 FROM LOOSE-ID!
Exes Patti North and Dylan Decker adore each other. Her problem? He cheated. His problem? Her temper. Fixing things will take more than spankings and hot sex, though that’s a good start.
Patti’s afraid to let Dylan back in her life, but, broke and desperate, she takes a job at the company he co-founded. Still lusting for him, she also yearns for some old-fashioned attitude adjustment—that is, a good spanking—over Dylan’s lap. Being childhood friends, they share memories and values. But Patti feels she can’t trust Dylan, and that pisses her off, which leads her to act rashly—and that pisses him off.
Dylan works at convincing Patti that he’s really changed and ready for monogamy. Hot spanking and sizzling sex erupts between them repeatedly, only for something to break them apart. A climactic scene in “Hot’lanta” that has Dylan spanking Patti for her temper leads to his claiming her back door. But can this contentious, lusty romance end happily?
HOT TO TROT, set in the sometimes funny-weird world of Boston high-tech, tells the story of two exes who still adore each other—and still annoy each other—more than any other twosome on the planet.
GALLEY EXCERPT FROM HOT TO TROT BY BARRIE ABALARD. COPYRIGHT 2008 BY BARRIE ABALARD. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
By the time six rolled around, I was as tired as a hound after a day’s hunt. I packed to go home, figuring I’d do a little work-related reading after dinner. A software worker’s job never seems to end -- there are always new releases, new deadlines, or new must-have features to incorporate. I considered the amount of time I would have to put in every day to do my job properly -- more than eight most days.
I wanted to start taking night courses that would lead to a graduate degree in Human Factors in Information Design. My resume would look fabulous with a master’s degree, and the topics interested me. But working for a start-up, even a reasonably established one like DD Technology, meant you didn’t keep banker’s hours. Finding time to groom and ride Flash would be difficult enough, let alone taking on the challenge of grad school after hours. I know, we software workers are usually paid well and have some perks that lots of industries don’t have, such as flex time, working from home, decent insurance, and so on. But believe me, we work for it.
My boss Dave was still in his office with the door closed, but Bonnie and Betty’s cubicles were vacant. I was trudging out of my own cube when Dylan phoned.
“Ms. North, I think you’d better report to my office.”
His distant tone made me shiver. What had I done now? “Yes, sir.”
I hurried down the halls, a little worried that he’d found a peach tree nearby. His door was closed. I knocked.
“Yeah?”
I poked my head around the door. “You, uh, called me?”
He stood, toying with a mean-looking wooden ruler. “Sit down.”
I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He walked around his desk to perch on its front edge, two feet away, and loomed over me. He whacked his palm with the ruler while he spoke.
“What we have to do, Ms. North, is find the underpants.”
Huh?
“Do you follow me?” Dylan asked.
“Not really,” I said. Has he gone totally nutso?
“You mean you don’t watch South Park? I figured you for a fan. You always liked Beavis and Butthead.”
He kept smacking the ruler against his hand. That, plus talk of underpants, made me hyperventilate.
“Nuh, no, I watch South Park sometimes, but I don’t follow you. Underpants?”
“You didn’t see the classic episode featuring the underpants gnomes?”
I could only stare. He must have finally flipped.
“Y’see, hon, these guys called the underpants gnomes sneaked into kids’ rooms at night and stole underpants, because the gnomes had a plan: find underpants and make a profit. However, they were hung up on exactly how to get from underpants to profit. Basically, the entire episode was a wacky lecture about capitalism. At any rate, you and I know how to get from underpants to profit. What we don’t know is how to find enough underpants to sell.”
I stood. “Dylan, excuse me for saying so, but what the hell is this all about?”
Wagging the ruler in my face, he ordered, “Sit down. I’m not done.”
I sat, bottom twitching in fear. He was definitely on something weirder than coffee. I sniffed a little, trying to detect a telltale odor on his breath.
“So, as I was sayin’, we need to find more underpants. In our case, it means more features for the latest version of our bread-and-butter product. Would you like to help with the effort?”
“I, uh, guess so.” I thought I smelled bourbon. Maybe he was a little drunk. Best to humor him.
“It’s settled, then. I’m going to add your name to the list of employees who meet once a week to brainstorm how we can make the product better for our customers. More underpants to sell means more profits. Right?”
“Uh, whatever you say, sir.” Nah, smelled more like bourbon mixed with paint thinner. Maybe gin? But when the hell had he started drinking gin?
“In the brainstorming meeting, you can feel free to trash the product all you want. I won’t be there.” His grin split his face in two, and the penny dropped.
“Dylan, is this impromptu session your way of punishing me for my faux pas in today’s project meeting? Scaring me to death, talking about underpants, and waving that ruler around?”
“Were you afraid I might use this ruler on you, with or without underpants?” He smiled like a fox inside a henhouse when the farmer’s not home. I swear, in another minute, he’d begin licking his chops.
“Wasn’t that the idea, to get me to think that?” Anger began to simmer inside me.
“Oh, yes. And it worked.” He laughed for a moment, then said, “You looked ready to bolt any minute.”
I stood, psychically spanked and privately oh-so-thoroughly humiliated. I forced bravado into my voice. “Well, I wasn’t that scared. Mostly, I thought you had gone around the bend.”
“Crazy?”
“Of course. All that talk about underpants and profit. Really.” I sniffed to punctuate my statement.
He aimed the ruler at my derriere. I jumped out of the way, and he laughed again. “Now, you’re upset, the way I was upset earlier. That means we’re even.”
I was halfway to the door when he said, “Listen, I have a proposal for you.”
His expression was full of longing. I began to feel less upset with him for the trick he’d played on me, but I wasn’t about to let him know that -- yet. “Yeah?”
“Call me crazy, but I think we can have the best of both worlds, kind of like we did at lunch today.”
I smiled. “You mean you want me to dump water on you?”
He suddenly found the markings on the ruler intensely interesting. A shy Dylan was a new-to-me Dylan. “Actually, I was thinking more like I could spank you now and then. You know, because it used to be so much fun. And hot, it was hot, like at lunch.” Now his gaze lasered into mine. “What do you say, ’Cakes?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to shake my tits in his face and laugh, telling him to dream on.
But, oh, brother, having Dylan again in that way, well, beads of sweat popped out on my brow at the thought. No one was beating down my door to offer me a spanking or sex or anything else delicious. Hmm.
“Um, and how would we keep this -- activity -- separate from work?” I found the strength to ask. God knows how.
He groaned. “Hell, I don’t know. If you say yes, we’ll find a way. I promise. And I’ll make sure I’m never the one to do your performance reviews or have authority over your status here, promotions, firing, whatever. I’ll stay completely away from areas involving your career. Just let me spank that wonderful ass of yours on a regular basis.”
With that, he dropped to his knees, singing out, “Pleeeeaaase,” his palms pressed together in supplicating prayer.
I giggled. “You’re a hoot, Dyl. You always were.”
“I’m serious about this. Will you?”
I looked into those damned green eyes of his, thought about how hot spanking got me, and of how hot his spanking got me, and of how long it had been since I’d had a proper one, with all the bells and whistles. The lunchtime swats didn’t really count.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, then said, “All right.”
He cleared his desk faster than anyone I’d ever seen, literally pushing most of the stuff onto the carpet with two sweeps of his arm. “Lock the door, sugar, then c’mere, and bend over the desk. I don’t have a good chair for over-the-knee. I’ll put that on my list of things to acquire in the next twenty-four hours.”
I did as he ordered, a lump building in my throat while I threw the lock and walked to the desk. Bending over and placing my palms on the surface, I said, “And, um, exactly what are you going to spank me for?”
He smiled, the kind of not-nice smile he always wore when he intended to get medieval on my heinie. “I think humiliating the hell out of me in today’s meeting would be a good reason.”
I felt my pussy contract. Wet already, and ready for action. “And what are you going to spank me with?”
“Oh, how about…the ruler?”
“Ahh!” was my gasped reply. Flat, wooden things are my favorite, next to a nice, hard palm.
He peeled up my skirt, slowly, as a tease. I heard him make a sound of approval and knew he liked seeing me in the thigh-high stockings instead of pantyhose. Then he hooked his fingers into my panties at the waist.
“Ms. North,” he said, using his most exaggerated drawl, “you know, darlin’, that I always, always, discipline naughty young ladies’ tender areas on the bare.”
I closed my eyes and let his words take me away while I waited for the kiss of the wood.
When the ruler landed on my sitting area, the sting was worse than anything he’d meted out at the restaurant. “Jesus H!” I cried out.
He whacked me again, this time searing my upper thighs. Oh, I hate having my thighs spanked. I hate it so much, and yet, I felt about three whacks away from coming. “Owww, no fair, no thigh spanking.”
“I think, after what you pulled in the meeting, you have no right to talk about what’s fair, Ms. North.” His voice dipped into a growl, and my pussy squeezed again. God, this man was the total package -- great spanker, great fucker, and the best head-trip giver I’ve ever experienced.
Three more times, hard and fast, the flat wood punished my seat. By then, I was bouncing on my toes, moaning from the smart and the arousal.
He walloped me another three times, in the same place, and damned if it wasn’t starting to really, really hurt. I danced a little more, bouncing my butt up and down in a vain attempt to ease the sting. I knew better than to throw a hand back to rub the pain away. Doing that always earned extra swats from Mr. Decker.
After that, I kind of grayed out with lust, as the ruler tattooed my bottom. Damned if he wasn’t awfully good at spanking the same place over and over, the way he always had been. The thought that I might still be a little sore the next morning from such treatment, well, mmm, it enhanced the experience, the whole damn hurtin’-so-good experience.
“Patti,” he whispered just before he laid his fingers on me between my legs. I moaned and twitched my pelvis, hoping he’d take it to mean yes.
“Ohhh, ’Cakes,” he said, and then the touch of a quick, hot tongue between the folds of my pussy took me away. I spread my legs as wide as they would go and pressed my front onto the desk while he made love to me, licking lightly at first, then licking with more pressure, and finally sucking my clit between his lips.
This son of a bitch, I thought, gives the best head I’ve ever had.
By the end, I was fucking his mouth until, with hot rockets shooting through my veins and my pussy on fire, I damn near passed out from the orgasm. While my shooting stars faded, he walked to his chair, sat, and gave me a look. I knew what that look meant. It’s a good thing I like to suck cock.
With my skirt still hiked to my waist and my panties around my ankles, I hobbled to the chair and knelt. “Sure I can’t talk you into a fuck?” I asked, looking up at him in an adoring-slave way.
He shook his head. “God, don’t tempt me. We shouldn’t even be doing this.”
“You knew what you were starting when you offered to spank me.” I let my tone be singsong, as if I were scolding him.
He looked at me over the tops of those nerdy glasses, grumbling, “Just suck my damned cock, Ms. North. And you’d better be good at it, or you’ll get another taste of the ruler. Or maybe even my belt.”
My nipples, which had been stiff ever since he had asked me if I wanted a spanking, puckered so hard they ached. He smiled. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear that clingy sweater -- with that bra -- to work again. I can see your nipples plain as day.”
He reached down, tickling each one once. “You bastard,” I breathed, feeling my pussy come alive. “Don’t touch them unless you plan to fuck me.”
He sat back in the chair, perfectly relaxed except for the enormous hard-on tenting his pants. “Ooo, Little Miss Well-Spanked is threatening me. I’m soooo scared.”
I wanted to shake him up a little, make him reveal how turned on he was. So, I moved my mouth to his zipper, and pulled it down using my teeth.
His expression went from smug to shocked, and I could see his cock pulse through the fabric while I tugged on the zipper, taking my damned sweet time. Once it was all the way down, I put my mouth to the opening and used my tongue to find his shaft.
“Jesus Christ,” he said when my tongue touched him for the first time, and I smiled. I’d finally shaken the composure of Mr. Decker. With his cock still technically inside his pants, I nibbled my way to the head, teasing the hole.
“Ms. North,” he moaned, “you’ll suck my cock now, or, honest to God, I’m going outside and finding a nice tree switch to take the skin off your behind -- and off your thighs, too. And, after that, you’ll still have to suck my cock.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I smarted off, but I recognized Dylan’s don’t-push-me-further voice. He would go outside, find a switch, and flay me alive with it. I know, because he did, once. I’ll never call his bluff again, not when he’s talking switches, which I truly do hate, and not with the sort-of-hate-even-though-it-turns-me-on kind of hate.
I started to reach for him, so I could take him out of his pants, but he said, “No. Use your mouth, with your hands clasped behind your back. And you’d best remember that tree switch.”
I obeyed. It took me a minute or two to fully get him into my mouth without my hands to help, but once I did, I Hoovered him.
He fucking adored it. I know he did, because he put his hands on my head so he could move it himself, all the while fucking my mouth. He was treating me like his little spanking slut, and it took me back, God knew. Dying to touch my pussy so I could come again, I kept my hands firmly clasped behind me. When he was in Mr. Decker mode, and threatening the switch, it was best to obey.
Not to mention it felt so goddamned good to obey. My head trip was in the stratosphere.
He cried out, so loudly I started. I swallowed every drop of his cum while he bucked his hips for a very long time. After he removed his hands from my head, eyes closed, he smiled. “Good girl, Patti. Very good. Now, run along home and take care of your sore behind, before I reconsider and go find that tree switch.”
“But I was good. I did everything you asked.” My protest was pro forma, part of the fun.
He patted the top of my head. “Have a nice night, Ms. North. Go on home and jerk off while fucking yourself with your biggest dildo and dream about my enormous cock. I know you want to.”
I did exactly as he ordered me to, butt delightfully, uncomfortably sore on my ride home.
GALLEY EXCERPT FROM HOT TO TROT BY BARRIE ABALARD. COPYRIGHT 2008 BY BARRIE ABALARD. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Exes Patti North and Dylan Decker adore each other. Her problem? He cheated. His problem? Her temper. Fixing things will take more than spankings and hot sex, though that’s a good start.
Patti’s afraid to let Dylan back in her life, but, broke and desperate, she takes a job at the company he co-founded. Still lusting for him, she also yearns for some old-fashioned attitude adjustment—that is, a good spanking—over Dylan’s lap. Being childhood friends, they share memories and values. But Patti feels she can’t trust Dylan, and that pisses her off, which leads her to act rashly—and that pisses him off.
Dylan works at convincing Patti that he’s really changed and ready for monogamy. Hot spanking and sizzling sex erupts between them repeatedly, only for something to break them apart. A climactic scene in “Hot’lanta” that has Dylan spanking Patti for her temper leads to his claiming her back door. But can this contentious, lusty romance end happily?
HOT TO TROT, set in the sometimes funny-weird world of Boston high-tech, tells the story of two exes who still adore each other—and still annoy each other—more than any other twosome on the planet.
GALLEY EXCERPT FROM HOT TO TROT BY BARRIE ABALARD. COPYRIGHT 2008 BY BARRIE ABALARD. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
By the time six rolled around, I was as tired as a hound after a day’s hunt. I packed to go home, figuring I’d do a little work-related reading after dinner. A software worker’s job never seems to end -- there are always new releases, new deadlines, or new must-have features to incorporate. I considered the amount of time I would have to put in every day to do my job properly -- more than eight most days.
I wanted to start taking night courses that would lead to a graduate degree in Human Factors in Information Design. My resume would look fabulous with a master’s degree, and the topics interested me. But working for a start-up, even a reasonably established one like DD Technology, meant you didn’t keep banker’s hours. Finding time to groom and ride Flash would be difficult enough, let alone taking on the challenge of grad school after hours. I know, we software workers are usually paid well and have some perks that lots of industries don’t have, such as flex time, working from home, decent insurance, and so on. But believe me, we work for it.
My boss Dave was still in his office with the door closed, but Bonnie and Betty’s cubicles were vacant. I was trudging out of my own cube when Dylan phoned.
“Ms. North, I think you’d better report to my office.”
His distant tone made me shiver. What had I done now? “Yes, sir.”
I hurried down the halls, a little worried that he’d found a peach tree nearby. His door was closed. I knocked.
“Yeah?”
I poked my head around the door. “You, uh, called me?”
He stood, toying with a mean-looking wooden ruler. “Sit down.”
I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He walked around his desk to perch on its front edge, two feet away, and loomed over me. He whacked his palm with the ruler while he spoke.
“What we have to do, Ms. North, is find the underpants.”
Huh?
“Do you follow me?” Dylan asked.
“Not really,” I said. Has he gone totally nutso?
“You mean you don’t watch South Park? I figured you for a fan. You always liked Beavis and Butthead.”
He kept smacking the ruler against his hand. That, plus talk of underpants, made me hyperventilate.
“Nuh, no, I watch South Park sometimes, but I don’t follow you. Underpants?”
“You didn’t see the classic episode featuring the underpants gnomes?”
I could only stare. He must have finally flipped.
“Y’see, hon, these guys called the underpants gnomes sneaked into kids’ rooms at night and stole underpants, because the gnomes had a plan: find underpants and make a profit. However, they were hung up on exactly how to get from underpants to profit. Basically, the entire episode was a wacky lecture about capitalism. At any rate, you and I know how to get from underpants to profit. What we don’t know is how to find enough underpants to sell.”
I stood. “Dylan, excuse me for saying so, but what the hell is this all about?”
Wagging the ruler in my face, he ordered, “Sit down. I’m not done.”
I sat, bottom twitching in fear. He was definitely on something weirder than coffee. I sniffed a little, trying to detect a telltale odor on his breath.
“So, as I was sayin’, we need to find more underpants. In our case, it means more features for the latest version of our bread-and-butter product. Would you like to help with the effort?”
“I, uh, guess so.” I thought I smelled bourbon. Maybe he was a little drunk. Best to humor him.
“It’s settled, then. I’m going to add your name to the list of employees who meet once a week to brainstorm how we can make the product better for our customers. More underpants to sell means more profits. Right?”
“Uh, whatever you say, sir.” Nah, smelled more like bourbon mixed with paint thinner. Maybe gin? But when the hell had he started drinking gin?
“In the brainstorming meeting, you can feel free to trash the product all you want. I won’t be there.” His grin split his face in two, and the penny dropped.
“Dylan, is this impromptu session your way of punishing me for my faux pas in today’s project meeting? Scaring me to death, talking about underpants, and waving that ruler around?”
“Were you afraid I might use this ruler on you, with or without underpants?” He smiled like a fox inside a henhouse when the farmer’s not home. I swear, in another minute, he’d begin licking his chops.
“Wasn’t that the idea, to get me to think that?” Anger began to simmer inside me.
“Oh, yes. And it worked.” He laughed for a moment, then said, “You looked ready to bolt any minute.”
I stood, psychically spanked and privately oh-so-thoroughly humiliated. I forced bravado into my voice. “Well, I wasn’t that scared. Mostly, I thought you had gone around the bend.”
“Crazy?”
“Of course. All that talk about underpants and profit. Really.” I sniffed to punctuate my statement.
He aimed the ruler at my derriere. I jumped out of the way, and he laughed again. “Now, you’re upset, the way I was upset earlier. That means we’re even.”
I was halfway to the door when he said, “Listen, I have a proposal for you.”
His expression was full of longing. I began to feel less upset with him for the trick he’d played on me, but I wasn’t about to let him know that -- yet. “Yeah?”
“Call me crazy, but I think we can have the best of both worlds, kind of like we did at lunch today.”
I smiled. “You mean you want me to dump water on you?”
He suddenly found the markings on the ruler intensely interesting. A shy Dylan was a new-to-me Dylan. “Actually, I was thinking more like I could spank you now and then. You know, because it used to be so much fun. And hot, it was hot, like at lunch.” Now his gaze lasered into mine. “What do you say, ’Cakes?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to shake my tits in his face and laugh, telling him to dream on.
But, oh, brother, having Dylan again in that way, well, beads of sweat popped out on my brow at the thought. No one was beating down my door to offer me a spanking or sex or anything else delicious. Hmm.
“Um, and how would we keep this -- activity -- separate from work?” I found the strength to ask. God knows how.
He groaned. “Hell, I don’t know. If you say yes, we’ll find a way. I promise. And I’ll make sure I’m never the one to do your performance reviews or have authority over your status here, promotions, firing, whatever. I’ll stay completely away from areas involving your career. Just let me spank that wonderful ass of yours on a regular basis.”
With that, he dropped to his knees, singing out, “Pleeeeaaase,” his palms pressed together in supplicating prayer.
I giggled. “You’re a hoot, Dyl. You always were.”
“I’m serious about this. Will you?”
I looked into those damned green eyes of his, thought about how hot spanking got me, and of how hot his spanking got me, and of how long it had been since I’d had a proper one, with all the bells and whistles. The lunchtime swats didn’t really count.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, then said, “All right.”
He cleared his desk faster than anyone I’d ever seen, literally pushing most of the stuff onto the carpet with two sweeps of his arm. “Lock the door, sugar, then c’mere, and bend over the desk. I don’t have a good chair for over-the-knee. I’ll put that on my list of things to acquire in the next twenty-four hours.”
I did as he ordered, a lump building in my throat while I threw the lock and walked to the desk. Bending over and placing my palms on the surface, I said, “And, um, exactly what are you going to spank me for?”
He smiled, the kind of not-nice smile he always wore when he intended to get medieval on my heinie. “I think humiliating the hell out of me in today’s meeting would be a good reason.”
I felt my pussy contract. Wet already, and ready for action. “And what are you going to spank me with?”
“Oh, how about…the ruler?”
“Ahh!” was my gasped reply. Flat, wooden things are my favorite, next to a nice, hard palm.
He peeled up my skirt, slowly, as a tease. I heard him make a sound of approval and knew he liked seeing me in the thigh-high stockings instead of pantyhose. Then he hooked his fingers into my panties at the waist.
“Ms. North,” he said, using his most exaggerated drawl, “you know, darlin’, that I always, always, discipline naughty young ladies’ tender areas on the bare.”
I closed my eyes and let his words take me away while I waited for the kiss of the wood.
When the ruler landed on my sitting area, the sting was worse than anything he’d meted out at the restaurant. “Jesus H!” I cried out.
He whacked me again, this time searing my upper thighs. Oh, I hate having my thighs spanked. I hate it so much, and yet, I felt about three whacks away from coming. “Owww, no fair, no thigh spanking.”
“I think, after what you pulled in the meeting, you have no right to talk about what’s fair, Ms. North.” His voice dipped into a growl, and my pussy squeezed again. God, this man was the total package -- great spanker, great fucker, and the best head-trip giver I’ve ever experienced.
Three more times, hard and fast, the flat wood punished my seat. By then, I was bouncing on my toes, moaning from the smart and the arousal.
He walloped me another three times, in the same place, and damned if it wasn’t starting to really, really hurt. I danced a little more, bouncing my butt up and down in a vain attempt to ease the sting. I knew better than to throw a hand back to rub the pain away. Doing that always earned extra swats from Mr. Decker.
After that, I kind of grayed out with lust, as the ruler tattooed my bottom. Damned if he wasn’t awfully good at spanking the same place over and over, the way he always had been. The thought that I might still be a little sore the next morning from such treatment, well, mmm, it enhanced the experience, the whole damn hurtin’-so-good experience.
“Patti,” he whispered just before he laid his fingers on me between my legs. I moaned and twitched my pelvis, hoping he’d take it to mean yes.
“Ohhh, ’Cakes,” he said, and then the touch of a quick, hot tongue between the folds of my pussy took me away. I spread my legs as wide as they would go and pressed my front onto the desk while he made love to me, licking lightly at first, then licking with more pressure, and finally sucking my clit between his lips.
This son of a bitch, I thought, gives the best head I’ve ever had.
By the end, I was fucking his mouth until, with hot rockets shooting through my veins and my pussy on fire, I damn near passed out from the orgasm. While my shooting stars faded, he walked to his chair, sat, and gave me a look. I knew what that look meant. It’s a good thing I like to suck cock.
With my skirt still hiked to my waist and my panties around my ankles, I hobbled to the chair and knelt. “Sure I can’t talk you into a fuck?” I asked, looking up at him in an adoring-slave way.
He shook his head. “God, don’t tempt me. We shouldn’t even be doing this.”
“You knew what you were starting when you offered to spank me.” I let my tone be singsong, as if I were scolding him.
He looked at me over the tops of those nerdy glasses, grumbling, “Just suck my damned cock, Ms. North. And you’d better be good at it, or you’ll get another taste of the ruler. Or maybe even my belt.”
My nipples, which had been stiff ever since he had asked me if I wanted a spanking, puckered so hard they ached. He smiled. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear that clingy sweater -- with that bra -- to work again. I can see your nipples plain as day.”
He reached down, tickling each one once. “You bastard,” I breathed, feeling my pussy come alive. “Don’t touch them unless you plan to fuck me.”
He sat back in the chair, perfectly relaxed except for the enormous hard-on tenting his pants. “Ooo, Little Miss Well-Spanked is threatening me. I’m soooo scared.”
I wanted to shake him up a little, make him reveal how turned on he was. So, I moved my mouth to his zipper, and pulled it down using my teeth.
His expression went from smug to shocked, and I could see his cock pulse through the fabric while I tugged on the zipper, taking my damned sweet time. Once it was all the way down, I put my mouth to the opening and used my tongue to find his shaft.
“Jesus Christ,” he said when my tongue touched him for the first time, and I smiled. I’d finally shaken the composure of Mr. Decker. With his cock still technically inside his pants, I nibbled my way to the head, teasing the hole.
“Ms. North,” he moaned, “you’ll suck my cock now, or, honest to God, I’m going outside and finding a nice tree switch to take the skin off your behind -- and off your thighs, too. And, after that, you’ll still have to suck my cock.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I smarted off, but I recognized Dylan’s don’t-push-me-further voice. He would go outside, find a switch, and flay me alive with it. I know, because he did, once. I’ll never call his bluff again, not when he’s talking switches, which I truly do hate, and not with the sort-of-hate-even-though-it-turns-me-on kind of hate.
I started to reach for him, so I could take him out of his pants, but he said, “No. Use your mouth, with your hands clasped behind your back. And you’d best remember that tree switch.”
I obeyed. It took me a minute or two to fully get him into my mouth without my hands to help, but once I did, I Hoovered him.
He fucking adored it. I know he did, because he put his hands on my head so he could move it himself, all the while fucking my mouth. He was treating me like his little spanking slut, and it took me back, God knew. Dying to touch my pussy so I could come again, I kept my hands firmly clasped behind me. When he was in Mr. Decker mode, and threatening the switch, it was best to obey.
Not to mention it felt so goddamned good to obey. My head trip was in the stratosphere.
He cried out, so loudly I started. I swallowed every drop of his cum while he bucked his hips for a very long time. After he removed his hands from my head, eyes closed, he smiled. “Good girl, Patti. Very good. Now, run along home and take care of your sore behind, before I reconsider and go find that tree switch.”
“But I was good. I did everything you asked.” My protest was pro forma, part of the fun.
He patted the top of my head. “Have a nice night, Ms. North. Go on home and jerk off while fucking yourself with your biggest dildo and dream about my enormous cock. I know you want to.”
I did exactly as he ordered me to, butt delightfully, uncomfortably sore on my ride home.
GALLEY EXCERPT FROM HOT TO TROT BY BARRIE ABALARD. COPYRIGHT 2008 BY BARRIE ABALARD. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Mar 10, 2008
Hot Topic - Body Image
Today's topic: Body Image
The world revolves around our body image and how we see ourselves. From the stick thin girls (and guys) that think they are too fat, to the jovial plus sized who decide to enjoy life no matter what their weight, our world is a melting pot of size and colour. Black women who can shake their big booty are prized, yet a white woman of the same proportions is fat. Big, tall, muscled white men are ooh'd and ahh'd over, yet their coloured counterparts are often feared. Why is BBW a sub genre when the majority of women are over a size 12 -- why can't that feisty kick arse heroine in the skin tight leather be a size 16 instead of a size 2 five-foot pocket rocket? Why is it always the women in romance are down on their self image -- guys can be just as uncertain about their appeal, or is that verging on the wimpy hero even if it's realistic imo. I've got lots of questions today, huh?
These are only just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to body image -- lets hear some of your questions and views. Tell us how you'd like to see body image genre tropes turned on their ears...
The world revolves around our body image and how we see ourselves. From the stick thin girls (and guys) that think they are too fat, to the jovial plus sized who decide to enjoy life no matter what their weight, our world is a melting pot of size and colour. Black women who can shake their big booty are prized, yet a white woman of the same proportions is fat. Big, tall, muscled white men are ooh'd and ahh'd over, yet their coloured counterparts are often feared. Why is BBW a sub genre when the majority of women are over a size 12 -- why can't that feisty kick arse heroine in the skin tight leather be a size 16 instead of a size 2 five-foot pocket rocket? Why is it always the women in romance are down on their self image -- guys can be just as uncertain about their appeal, or is that verging on the wimpy hero even if it's realistic imo. I've got lots of questions today, huh?
These are only just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to body image -- lets hear some of your questions and views. Tell us how you'd like to see body image genre tropes turned on their ears...
Mar 8, 2008
Author Interview: Melinda Barron
Author Name: Melinda Barron
Year started writing for LI: 2006
Titles:
The Tygers Series:
Sweet Vibrations,
Sweet Perfection,
Sweet Silence
Sweet Awakening.
Tales of the Magician 1: The Captive One.
Tales of the Magician 2: The Lost One.
Graceful Submission.
Graceful Mischief
Web Page: http://www.barron-chronicles.blogspot.com/
What genre do you write in, and why? : Paranormal, BDSM
Paranormal because I love things that are off the charts and out of this world. BDSM because I love the exchange of power between two, or three, people.
How much time do you spend writing every week? : Forty plus hours
What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) : Stories when I was a teenager. Then, the first ones published were during high school journalism class.
How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? : If it makes me warm while I’m writing it, then it’s done well.
Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy? : LMAO… um, no.
Ever been told, Um...sweetie, that's not how it works? : Yes. My answer: Prove it.
What one word best describes your toy collection? : Eclectic
Favorite candy while writing? : M&Ms
Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? : One of my main characters, who wouldn’t let leave it alone.
What inspires you to write? : The desire to create, and to entertain, and to make the voices in my head happy.
What music inspires your writing? : Depends on the scene. Classical music, and classical rock work most of the time, though.
Plotter or a Panster? : A bit of both. I plan things out in my head, and don’t put things onto paper until I’m sure where the story is going, but I never write down an outline, just draw character sketches of my main players. Still, the book I started in my brain is never the same as the book I finish.
Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? : Well, I have two, and they take turns sitting next to me, and then rising up on their hind legs and batting at my arms with their forepaws.
What is your most embarrassing moment as an erotic romance author? : When my older brother googled me and then called and said, “Is this you? Did you write this?”
Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? : Sitting poolside at a hotel, with people wanting to look over my shoulder.
When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? : I play a round or two of Luxor, and think, “how would she/he handle this?”
Any outrageous liaisons in your past? : Um, a few, weg
Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex?: A photographic dark room
What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? : Fruit, cheese and bread on a blanket in a bedroom…. Naked and feeding one another
What kind of books do you read for fun? : Romance, mystery
Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? : My real life is very boring. My fantasies, however, …. Stand back
If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? : Don’t tailgate me, unless you really mean it
Soulmates? Do you believe? : Oh yes, very much so. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to.
Sex with anyone famous? : Wouldn’t you like to know …
Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? : Cake, diet Coke, coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon
Mar 7, 2008
The Laminated List
Who’s on Yours? Orlando
As submitted to the Urban Dictionary by Bob Rauscher on
A list of the top 5 people, usually celebrities, with whom you could have sex with without repercussions, if the opportunity arose, regardless of whether you were in a relationship or not.
In other words, if my DH saved
So – regardless of your relationship status, if you were stuck in an elevator with Mr. X or Ms. Y, who would you jump in a hot second?
Keep in mind that the list doesn't really have to be laminated -- if yours does, I don't need to hear about it -- so you can change it any time. Here are my current favorites:Keith Olbermann. His voice. His face. His clothes. His big giant brain. Oh, yeah, I’d hit that.
(Did I mention I’m kind of a political junkie?)
Keith Szarabajka. I know you don’t know who he is unless you watched Angel. But he’s hot!
Matthew Gray Gubler. Which is shameful, really, because I’m old enough to be his mother. Or to teach him a few things.
Bill Pullman. In the right age group, multi-talented, aging very nicely, and so damn charming!
Robert Lansing. If he wasn’t dead. Say, the 1980’s Equalizer Lansing. The face, the voice … and damn, watch his hands some time!
Okay, so now that you know way more about me than you probably wanted to – fess up! Who’s on your list? C’mon, it’s Friday, you know you want to tell!
Mar 6, 2008
What Makes a Story Worth Reading Twice?
When I pick up a new book, I do so knowing I have much less than a 50-50 chance of finishing it.
Some I can't force myself to read past the first few pages, whether because it's a poor excuse for a story or because it's poorly told. By the bottom of page three or four, the author's voice and reality are solidified in my head. If I'm standing in the bookstore, this is where I pause to decide whether to buy the book. I am not great at predicting which stories I will read over and over, and push into the hands of friends and strangers. The more pressing question is whether I'll end up regretting having spent any portion of my life reading this.
Some books that pass the three-page test end up being those I wade grimly through, skipping half a page here or a chapter there, and struggling to the end in search of any clue that this will have turned out better than I'd hoped. This is often the fate of a book some friend liked, or by a previously enjoyable author who has hit the wrong note. Or even, I reluctantly admit, a book too complex and multilayered for the amount of mental energy I currently have available. After hearing it praised enough, I might start over. Sometimes on the second attempt I'm caught up in the current, delighting in what I'd missed previously. More often, I find myself chewing my way through the reading equivalent of one of those movies remembered chiefly in terms of seat hardness.
Then sometimes a book catches me up from the start and carries me along well enough to feel like a keeper; when life interrupts, I set the book down with every intention of coming back. But when the opportunity arises, I will look at my bookmark, judge how eager I am to immerse myself in that story as opposed to how much work it would take, and pick up something else instead. The unfinished book hits the shelf--or, more often, the giveaway box. As with a book I've skipped through, the book might get a second chance. But this time I'll be analyzing it: What works? What sags? What should have been handled differently? Why did I put it down and what makes it worth finishing this time?
I'm sure all readers can immediately name books they tried to like. The more difficult factor to identify is what stopped each book from being likable.
With the price of books, and the increasing rarity of my scraps of "spare" time, I make quicker and harsher judgment on what is worth reading. Which brings into focus the other side of the equation. What makes a story worth reading, and what makes the rare jewel of a story worth re-reading?
If you can put your hands on three books you've read repeatedly, can you put your finger on what makes each of them worth revisiting? Is it the same factor in all of them? Or the compelling lead male character in this one, the style of humor in that one, and the hmm-worthy philosophy in the last?
Being read is the primary compensation a writer receives. If we could identify and prioritize the factors that produce a story that is worth reading twice, what factors would we name, and how important--relative to one another--is each of them? What do you think?
Amber
Visit http://www.shapeshiftersinlust.com/ tonight!
Some I can't force myself to read past the first few pages, whether because it's a poor excuse for a story or because it's poorly told. By the bottom of page three or four, the author's voice and reality are solidified in my head. If I'm standing in the bookstore, this is where I pause to decide whether to buy the book. I am not great at predicting which stories I will read over and over, and push into the hands of friends and strangers. The more pressing question is whether I'll end up regretting having spent any portion of my life reading this.
Some books that pass the three-page test end up being those I wade grimly through, skipping half a page here or a chapter there, and struggling to the end in search of any clue that this will have turned out better than I'd hoped. This is often the fate of a book some friend liked, or by a previously enjoyable author who has hit the wrong note. Or even, I reluctantly admit, a book too complex and multilayered for the amount of mental energy I currently have available. After hearing it praised enough, I might start over. Sometimes on the second attempt I'm caught up in the current, delighting in what I'd missed previously. More often, I find myself chewing my way through the reading equivalent of one of those movies remembered chiefly in terms of seat hardness.
Then sometimes a book catches me up from the start and carries me along well enough to feel like a keeper; when life interrupts, I set the book down with every intention of coming back. But when the opportunity arises, I will look at my bookmark, judge how eager I am to immerse myself in that story as opposed to how much work it would take, and pick up something else instead. The unfinished book hits the shelf--or, more often, the giveaway box. As with a book I've skipped through, the book might get a second chance. But this time I'll be analyzing it: What works? What sags? What should have been handled differently? Why did I put it down and what makes it worth finishing this time?
I'm sure all readers can immediately name books they tried to like. The more difficult factor to identify is what stopped each book from being likable.
With the price of books, and the increasing rarity of my scraps of "spare" time, I make quicker and harsher judgment on what is worth reading. Which brings into focus the other side of the equation. What makes a story worth reading, and what makes the rare jewel of a story worth re-reading?
If you can put your hands on three books you've read repeatedly, can you put your finger on what makes each of them worth revisiting? Is it the same factor in all of them? Or the compelling lead male character in this one, the style of humor in that one, and the hmm-worthy philosophy in the last?
Being read is the primary compensation a writer receives. If we could identify and prioritize the factors that produce a story that is worth reading twice, what factors would we name, and how important--relative to one another--is each of them? What do you think?
Amber
Visit http://www.shapeshiftersinlust.com/ tonight!
Mar 5, 2008
Flash Fiction
Today's Words are:
Verklempt (or ferklempt) or vague
Today is a twofer, since for some reason I have the word verklempt on the brain, but it's one of those words that for most dictionaries isn't a word.
Mar 4, 2008
Eye Candy is out!!
I am so excited to announce the release of my latest novella with Loose ID. Eye Candy is the second in my candy series, which started last May with my story, Man Candy, and then continued with the short story, Candy Man, this past October. I can't wait to hear what you all think of it.
Amanda Young’s Eye Candy
Previous Book: Man Candy
Previous Book: Man Candy
Genre: LGBT Erotic Contemporary
Length: Novella
Love is a fool's game Jake Remora has no intention of ever playing again. He works hard, plays even harder, and leaves a string of easy lovers in his wake. Having his first lover move home and resurrect long-dormant emotions is the last thing he ever expected...or wanted.
Just as things reignite between the lovers, a new scandal of sexual impropriety arises. Past and present collide in a clash of rumor and speculation, jeopardizing any hope of a shared future the two men might hope to build.
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, dubious consent, male/male sexual practices.
Mar 3, 2008
Hot Topic - Spicy or sweet, sex with a...err, cherry on top?
Today's Topic:
Spicy or sweet, sex with a... err, cherry on top?
We all need to eat, right? But should we be eating while we're having sex? (no oral sex pun intended!) Drips of honey, phallic shaped carrots, squishy fruits and sticky chocolate - there's something to suit everyone's taste buds. But is foodie sex a turn on or a turn off? Is it a bit like sex on a beach -- it sounds all romantic until a crab bites your ass and the sand creeps into places you really don't want sand creeping when there's some friction going on?
Mar 2, 2008
Science Fiction Sexuality, human and alien
Back in 1969, a song soared and became the number one hit. The first words were, “In the Year 2525.” Lots of good ideas and possibilities in that song from popping pills to change your thoughts to test tube babies, virtual reality sex and letting machines do all the work for you while your body atrophies.
Two early pulp SF heros, Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon showed a future with rocket ships, robots, ray-guns, alien invasions and various alien races fighting to rule the universe. Shark men and hawk men were featured in both series. Too bad they didn’t explore the sexual possibilities. I always wanted to know how the hawk men made love.
George Lucas was a fan of the Flash Gordon serials, and once wanted to adapt them to the screen. Dino De Laurentiis, who owned the rights, wasn’t interested in Lucas' interpretation, so Lucas wrote Star Wars, which borrowed liberally from the serials. The opening expository roll-up that appeared in episodes of Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe became the now-famous opening crawl of each Star Wars episode. Flash Gordon and Dale Arden inspired not only Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia, but also their parents, Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala. Creatures from the snow world of Queen Fria in the Flash Gordon series provided the inspiration for the famous Tauntaun from Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back.
There were two sexual parody movies created, Flesh Gordon and Flesh Gordon Meets the Cosmic Cheerleaders. Needless to say, neither movie did a very good job of exploring the sexual possibilities implicit within the series.
Right now, there are tons of new Fantasy titles out that explore the sexual themes within vampires, werewolves, witches and demons. But when it comes to Science Fiction books, well, that’s where I believe we need to have more sex as a natural and normal part of the characters’ daily lives. After all, no matter if it’s three thousand years into the future or even a hundred thousand years, people and aliens will still need to reproduce.
I want it all, exciting adventures, mysteries, the solving of homicides, mining asteroids, spaceships bringing spacers and traders to new world, psychic phenomena, advances in genetics and physics, new forms of space travel and the emotional and physical roller coaster of sex, love, relationships and family. Instead of giving me the same old, same old stories about a prince and princess of two opposing planets who fall in love despite their differences, give me new stories looking at the daily lives of individuals in the future as they struggle to survive, find a lasting relationship and raise a family.
And, just because the most predominant cultural system on Earth happens to be the heterosexual monogamous marriage, doesn’t mean this type of relationship should apply to everyone, alien and human in your Science Fiction stories. Explore the boundaries there also. Look at cultural evolution and try and extrapolate the way our social beliefs may change and evolve during the next centuries. After all, look at all the changes we’ve experienced during the last four centuries, starting with the American Revolution and change from a monarchy to democracy to equal rights for blacks and women.
Who knows what the future will bring? Especially when you look at the fact that in the present time gays and lesbians are struggling to achieve legal recognition and benefits for committed and long-term relationships. One of the reasons I wrote Christmas Noir and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun with hermaphrodite characters was because I wanted to explore the concept of hermaphrodites as the last minority struggling to achieve equal rights on Earth.
Plus, when formulating cultural beliefs for aliens, I also believe that it’s a good possibility that their standards for personal relationships may be entirely different than ours. Don’t be afraid to go out of the box when creating the cultural and social beliefs for your aliens.
C.J. Cherryh does an excellent job of showing cultural evolution in her books. The trading families on the spaceships have evolved into a matrilineal descent system that’s the direct opposite of the traditional patrilineal system on the space stations. She explores human and alien interactions in her Chanur and Foreigner series. In the Chanur series, she extrapolated group marriage for the hani patterned after the lion prides we know on Earth. For the Stsho, she extrapolated an alien species that changes sex because they suffer severe personality and hormonal fragmentation triggered by danger and stress.
Thank you. I hope today’s blog gives everyone a few new thoughts and ideas to contemplate about human and alien sexuality in Science Fiction.
Barbara Karmazin
www.sff.net/people/selkiewife
www.myspace.com/barbarakarmazin
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