Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Do You Shave Your Kitty?? Sex talk for romance 101.

So did you think I meant your cat, or did you 'get it'. There is a distinct language in romance writing when it comes to the naughty bits, and believe me there is mucho discussion between writers over what works and doesn't work. Sad to say yes, we read things that are out there and sometimes cringe, sometimes laugh, and sometimes just do the 'wtf?' head shake. And occasionally I read something I wrote and wonder, what, the hell, were you thinking?

Shaved kitty does not mean go round up your cat or the local cat lady's favorite feline and give it a go with your Wahl hair clippers. It means, in polite romance sex language, is your pussy bare? I admit for the longest time, the "p" word as we call it made me cringe every time I wrote it. It's a very common and not impolite word in the romance genre, because, well let's face it, when you start using clinical words like vagina and penis, it just does not evoke hot and steamy. Most of us in the world of more erotic romance are well versed in the uses of 'cum vs. come' or how to pepper our down and dirty scenes with a variety of descriptions. You can only have so many cocks in your paragraph, you know.

You might think it's fun to figure out ten ways to describe the male anatomy, but really, do you know how hard it is to figure out that many ways to describe his dick in a complimentary, and not comical way? It's not as easy as you think! Same for the women, which I again, admit, I have a bit of trouble with. We all know the "C" word is just forbidden. I mean, if you read / hear the word cunt come out of my vocab it is NOT because I'm trying to get you hot and bothered. Sadly, most of the descriptions I find from the '101 ways to say vagina' list just make me laugh. Which brings me to...

Wow, really? Love stick, velvet rod, snatch, box, nether lips. Yep, all in print. The ones that still evoke an 'EWWWW!' when I see them are oozing and pussy juice. Umm, just ick. I want to lose myself in the story when I read, and if you are reading mine. I am pretty sure all of those words are going to break me right back into reality as I read them and throw up in my mouth.

I've cataloged the bad side of this process because, well, we all have tons of excellent examples of how it's done right. Which is what I aspire to and why you will never read the words 'pussy juice' in my work. If you do come and find me and smack me on the back of the head and ask me "What, the hell, are you thinking?" then smack me again for good measure!

Ta til next time when we discuss all the weird things I learned at Lori Foster's Reader Author weekend. SO much fun!

Mwuah. EM

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Why, yes, I can go to work Naked.

Ok so it's true, on certain days when school is in and all under aged spawn have been shuttled off to their destinations I could, technically work naked. The glamorous life of a writer, no? Uh, no.

I'm sure you can conjure all kinds of scenarios to make working naked sound wonderful, many that involve some of the very characters I have created in some interesting positions. Yeah, not so much when I'm home, the laundry needs done, and I realize it's Monday and I didn't put the recycle bin out. Ask my neighbors how working naked would go if that were the case. "Hey Mrs. Crane, nice morning!" Yeah. And then the police arrive.

Really it's just a point of while something may sound good it's not always as great as it seems. Yes I LOVE being a writer, even the boring part where I write really inane articles for a regular paycheck while waiting for that magical day when I can live off just my fiction royalty checks. I do get to set my own schedule. I do get to spend time with my boyfriend during the day which helps because we both have odd schedules. I do get to attend my kids school functions, and I made it to all my son's Lacrosse games this year, no work interference. On the other hand, when I'm tired and not so in the creative mood, I have to make myself crawl out of bed and work. Cause, you know, the bed is right there. I could sleep. For just a little while.

That makes the point of the downside of working for yourself and being a writer. Discipline. There is no lounging naked writing hot steamy love scenes watching the pool man (Sorry...I don't like boys!) in the sun with no shirt. For one, reality check, our pool is an inflatable thing that while not tiny, is very much my four year old's domain. There is laundry, calls to make, blogs to write, dishes to do, homework to monitor.

Yeah, I could go to work naked, but really, I wouldn't likely do that any more than you would!

Kisses - E

Saturday, May 28, 2011

He, She and the I, We....Plus a Sale!!

Ok, first, the cool book lover holiday weekend sale news! Hop on over to All Romance ebooks and get 50% off!!! You can really clean up and get a lot of books added to your TBR pile with this sale.

So this morning I'm talking with my S.O. and I suddenly came upon a realization you'd think might have hit before now. I'm wondering if it's just me, or maybe is this a universal male / female thing. I realized that in my life anyway males tend to think more in the "me / I" frame of reference, while I and I'm thinking many other females think in the "we / they" point of view. It was something to the effect of me considering weekend plans and pretty much most things that have to be planned out like who needs what done and when and where in the we frame of mind. Such as, "ok he has to do this, I need to do that, WE could make it work by..." etc. Then it hit me the words that usually reference his frame of thought are "I have to....or what are you...?" Then I went back and thought about my previous marriage. Yep, same thing. I'd get up in the morning taking into my line of thought everyone's needs and plans and I'd get from my ex "I have to do this, I'm going to do that.." Course, in his case, it never took anyone else into the factor hence, he is the EX. That, is a whole other story.

As women I see us blogging and posting all the time about our own personal things but also more in regards to our families, our S.O.'s and how everything we do relates to that in one big string. Do men do that? Or are they oriented more towards an individual train of thought? Not to say they don't consider us or the kids in their plans or day to day whatever, this is more a point of how our minds work, from an individual stance or a group stance, which I think is more common to women.

Ok let the opinions fly, and here is another question, how do we write our men in our novels or like to read them? Do we play them true to nature, or change it because, well, we're writing them how we want them to be and we CAN!


Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Random Things

I have a goal to post a blog once a week. Hey, it's still this week!! Today seems like a good day, I have a rant. Today we have, Stupid STUPID, cosmic weirdness, and I'm so freaking tired of people complaining!! (Which...I'm about to do, but we'll call it bitching, so...)

You really can't fix stupid, but would we want to? I mean, would it improve things if we did? Probably not, because, well, there has to be a balance to things, right?
Today amongst the odd things that I ran into making me want to pack my ass right back home not long after I got out in the world, was a guy driving straight for me on a 4 lane highway, another one who turned on his blinker as he came down the road towards me, and luckily I knew better than to pull out of the driveway I was leaving because he DIDN'T turn, and...someone who backed out into the road while I was turning out of a different driveway, and she saw me, just didn't seem to care. Ok, so stupid drivers. Not just plain stupid.

On to creepy and weird. A guy come up behind me in the checkout lane at Walmart (I know..I know, but it's a necessary EVIL!) and ask me if he could pay for my things with his bridge card (food stamps) and I give him the cash. Ummm. NO! Idiot. Really?? Right in the line, with the cashier looking at him like, are you kidding?? As if I would?? Made me want to hide my three year old in front of me, he wasn't exactly trustworthy looking. I started to get a little pissy and really thought about letting him have it, then a visual of him following me to my car slammed my filter down over my mouth. Probably a good thing. As soon as he left, Miss Karma reminded me I really was not in ok-ville as another guy got in line behind me and was unloading his cart literally OVER my shoulder. The woman in front of me hadn't even put all her bags in her cart yet. My stuff was on the belt, he was reaching OVER my shoulder to put his stuff down, and talking to himself.

About this point, I was wondering where the camera was, or when Rod Serling would start to let me know I was in the Twilight Zone.

I have left Walmart to just get the HELL out of that place often, but not quite as fast as I retreated today.

As for the complaining, well. There is a difference between bitching, which I can do with the best of them, and constantly vomiting all your life's drama out at everyone to get attention. Puh-leeeze. Life sucks! It's fucked up, painful, often weird, sometimes surreal and funny as hell, but it sure as shit is not easy.

On the other hand, I guess I take it as a good sign that I'm one of the ones people gravitate to for strength and support. I know there are very few I lean on for that kind of thing, and it sure isn't the ones who spend their time moaning about every little problem (half of which they unwittingly how life sucks, so I know which category that puts me in, and it's not the whiny one. Least I hope not. Get over yourselves, people!! Come on, what fun would it be if you didn't have drama? Ha, they wouldn't have anything to do.

Final random thought for the day, and not even bitchy or pissy...does it make ground baloney more refined if I put it on Ciabatta bread?

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Just For Fun...

I don't post nearly enough on here, I know. To remind myself I actually can write now and then, since it seems like life is getting in the way of me accomplishing as much of that as I'd like I was reading through files on one of my faves. This is a piece of work I'm dying to finish and publish. In the meantime, enjoy a little chat between two of my to die for, literally, Alpha heroes. (And's unedited).

“The Greeks can suck my dick, Fage.” Ford said, a demonic chuckle rumbling in his chest.
He pictured it, blond fucking gods kneeling in the dirt in front of him. Hell, that wasn’t even good enough. “Come to think of it my dick would be too good to touch their lips, fucking clothes whores. They’re like a god damned soap opera from another planet.” He voice dripped venom, the tone that it took when he was in a state like this would have terrified any human within ear shot.

Fage was nonplussed. “Yeah, well, much as you like that glorious little cock of yours--”

Ford threw a left and at Fage, almost sent him sprawling in the dirt but he ducked it, laughing. He stood, looking his baby over.
“Don’t scratch the paint, Ford.” He warned with a leering smile.
Ford shook his head, almost grinning. Fage tolerated Ford’s little outbursts, he was after all Themis’ son, and charged with weighing both sides of every argument. He took his job to the extreme at times, letting things drag out for eons for his own amusement. He may have been forced by the Fates to balance things, but Fage, was himself no moral innocent. He was always entertained by Ford’s antics, Ford knew well, and even looking like some punk kid Fage had a heritage older and deadlier than his own.

Fage, pretty much, liked to play with Ford.

“Whatever, rice burner boy. When you gonna trade that fucking toy for a real ride?” He gestured towards his gigantic black powerhouse of a Harley.

“That tank on wheels?” Fage shook his dark shaggy head, settling back down against his Hayabusa.

“Don’t think so, I don’t like to drag ass when I’m being hunted.”

“Yeah, you call my cock tiny again and I’ll make that little piece of plastic there go poof, and I ain’t talking about your dick.” He smiled at Fage, a nice, fanged, menacing smile.

Fage laughed. “Stick your bones back in your mouth, fang boy. Back to the Greeks. You can’t afford to piss ‘em off this time, they’ll pull some strings and you’ll be suffering some twisted up immortal curse they love to dream up so much. You really want to die every day, or have your guts eaten every day, or never have sex, or…”

“Got it. I fuckin got it. No, I don’t wish that shit even on you. Won’t have to.”

Ford cocked an eyebrow on him.Wait for it…

“Why?” Fage’s eyes lit up, ready for something juicy.

“Love it when you’re predictable, Fage. I have a secret weapon.”

He cringed a little at the thought that Nix was a weapon at all, but she was, even fledgling and barely tested, still trying to figure out what power she even had. She was like his little black box in this mess. Push a button and boom. Bye bye, greeks, bye bye, soap opera in the sky. He could dream, anyway. In truth it would merely balance the power, and they would have to reveal her to do it, but if it came to that…

“You gonna spill, or what?”

“My mate.” He let that drop like a stone in a pond.

“Your WHAT?” Fage jumped to his feet, leaned forward and peering into Ford’s face.

“Get back outta my face, asshat.” Ford hissed.

“Just looking to see if there was a demon shadow in those eyes. Ford Gabriel, does not, would not, should not, ever have a mate.”

“Yeah, well, I do.” Ford muttered.

“Get the fuck outta here. No shit?” Fage’s mouth hung half open.

“No shit.”

“Where the hell is she? What’s her name?”

“Jesus H., Fage, nosy much?” Ford’s face tightened at the attention. “She’s…not here. She’s got her own things to deal with right now.”

“Oh, I get it, she’s a butterface. You’re hooked up to a woman got hit with the ugly stick.” He was laughing his ass off.

Ford grabbed him by the throat. Fangs out, face not a hair away from Fage’s, he snarled. “She, is none of your god damned business.” He released him, shoving him backwards.

Fage looked slightly less than bothered by Ford’s little display. He wasn’t exactly known for his cuddly nature himself.

“Fine, whatever. Guess you don’t like being mated. Sucks to be you, man.” He turned, grabbing his helmet. “I’m out, I unlike you, love the feminine side of our little balance scales, and I intend to spend some time wrapped around some curves other than asphalt tonight. Think about what I said, man. Whatever your mate has that can help, we need it, and we need it quick. We are going to have demons crawling up our asses on every continent, and if we don’t get a handle on things, this is going to turn into Chaos’ wet dream of a mess.” He slid onto his bike, the sleek black machine rumbling more like a muscle car than a rocket between his powerful legs. He gave him a slight nod of his head, shot off, and pulled a wheelie at about 100 mph, just because he was Fage, and he could.

“Show off.” Ford muttered. But he was smiling. He actually liked Fage. If like meant he wouldn’t kill him on sight, or would tolerate his company for longer than necessary to exchange information. He had actually spent time with Fage hunting. That was saying something.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Monday, January 3, 2011

Coffee Time Romance Book Brew

Come visit me today at Coffee Time Romance Book Brew and win a copy of Brotherhood Of Fire. Great interviews with lots of authors, excerpts and the theme is "Uniforms That Protect Us". YUM YUM!!

(Just click the Coffee Time logo to the right or paste the link below in your browser to get there).