Archive | August 2004

Biting The Bullet

Since I had reached the point of maximum procrastination with the home wrecker story, I decided that I had to either sit down and do some major writing in order to have it submitted by midnight tomorrow, or I had to pass on it and seek out another venue to submit the story. The only problem with the latter is that the story still isn’t much more than a vague structure in my mind and a few pages of notes and dialogue. If I passed on submitting to the anthology, there would be little else to motivate me to finish the story.

Then I had an epiphany of sorts… well, not so much an epiphany as an evloution of the story in my mind. Part of the difficulty in writing it has been the fact that no matter how I drew the characters, wrote the dialogue, envisioned the plot, the story seemed so Lifetime Movie-ish. That definitely wasn’t the vibe I was going for and I couldn’t think of a way to portray the story in a believable, yet creative way. Then it came to me that I should/could write the story using a series of letters between the characters and clippings from their town newspaper. I had email included but the story felt more like it was set in the 50’s or 60’s where they did more traditional letter writing.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull this off by tomorrow, so I went ahead and asked the editor for an extension. I haven’t heard back from her yet and I don’t know what to expect, but I’m hopig for a yes. I would fully understand a no, though.

The past few days have consisted of more of the same, jotting down more ideas, working on old ones, yielding nothing solid so far. I made a small to do list, with some deadlines fast approaching since I don’t want to be in this position again, having a story to tell, with little time to tell it. It just does the craft such a great injustice… all those ideas gone to waste.

Yeah, I’m kind of tired. Rambling. I need tne holiday bad.

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So I Don’t Forget

He asked for a hug, a simple embrace that would have otherwise been harmless, yet when he pulled me to his chest and my cheek briefly lay against his, a shiver coursed through my body and I pulled away or else he would feel it. He would look into my eyes and see everything I couldn’t say.



I inhaled his scent, etched it into the furthest corner of my memory. I imagined kissing him, silencing all protests within myself and pressing my lips on his in what would be the softest kiss, one that would leave my lips, dart across my tongue and slip inside my body.



And then I walked away.

Giddy

…and excited and proud… and a little star-struck, too.

Contracts are always good. I received mine for Naughty Spanking Stories From A to Z today. The editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel, sent it through email. The story of mine that’s included is called Bend. You may recall my excitement when she asked me to submit something for this one, and the big fun I had writing it.

Anyway, here is the table of contents and a little of what she had to say about it:

“I have pasted the table of contents below, and the foreword was written by Violet Blue. It’s turned out to be a fabulous collection that I’m very proud of and excited about!”



Naughty Spanking Stories From A to Z Table of Contents



A Passion for Learning by Michelle Houston

Bend by Tenille Brown

Cops by Kate Dominic

D is for Denial by Catherine Lundoff

Every Good Boy Deserves Favors by L. Elise Bland

Fancy Pants by Barbara Pizio

Gift for Santa by Tsaurah Litzky

Her Beautiful Long Overcoat by Bill Noble

Inventory Control by Sage Vivant

Just a Spanking by Thomas Roche

The Krankeit Treatment by Simon Sheppard

Lucky by Elle McCaul

More, Please, Sir by N.T. Morley

Naughty Boys Report Here by Christopher Pierce

Only a Woman’s Touch by Debra Hyde Pigtails and

Pony Rides by Michele Zipp

Quiet Evening at Home by Lisabet Sarai

The Recession Spankologist by Jonathan Ames

See Dick Deconstruct by Ian Philips

The Shortest Skirt by Tanya Turner

Unlike the Others by Xavier Acton

A Very Naughty Girl by Sean Evans

White Tigress, Scarlet Stripes by Sacchi Green

X2 by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Yenta of Spanking by Darklady

Zoo Prowlers by Marcelle Perks

Bonus Stories : Natalie by Michael Hemmingson and You Want That Spanking by Rakelle Valencia

It’s thrilling to be in the company of so many authors who have been around so long and who put out such a wonderful body of work.

And in spite of all the part-time work, I’ve been doing a lot of scratching in my little notebook, especially the Trinidad story. Yes, I’ve lost focus from the Home Wrecker story yet again, but I hope to spend quality time with that one over the weekend.

So, a good day all around…

Pick Me Up

I heard from a writer friend of mine who I had contacted a little while ago. She used to run an erotic ezine that featured a couple of my stories and I had trouble finding it. I had wanted to point a few friends to the stories, but the ezine is now defunct. But here is what my writer friend had to say about me sharing my work:

“tell ‘em all to buy your chapbook! the editor of thenow-defunct erotic e-zine ‘candy apple’ thinks it’s EXCELLENT! ;o)”



She was one of the buyers of the few chapbooks of my stories my husband and I printed and put out a couple of years ago. Actually, the two stories that she put up on her site came from the chapbook. It only had about eight stories in it and we were mostly testing the waters. Shortly after we starting selling them, though, I got all paranoid and self-concious about it and wanted to redo the whole thing so we stopped. Now that we’ve been talking about doing it again, but better with a lot more stories, I’m more excited about it. It’s good to know that someone enjoyed that slim, raw version, though.

The story ideas have been coming fast and furious lately, so fast that I can hardly get them down quick enough. Yesterday I was in my car and didn’t have a pen handy and I had to call my husband and get him to email me some words so I wouldn’t forget an idea I had. I’m thinking these will be stories for the to be renamed, redone collection if I can ever find the time to work on them.

I also think I have an idea for the travel anthology. It’s sort of inspired by this guy from Trinidad I used to know. I had a big time crush on him and he flirted a lot with me, but I think I might have been dating someone at the time, so it never went anywhere. I used to fantasize about him taking me to Trinidad for the holidays to meet his family. Anyway, I took that fantasy and ran with it, and a story is born.

So, I’m trying to hold on to the fire, this new passion I have for completing the redone collection.

I enjoyed two days of no part-time work and spoiled my children a plenty, but today it’s back to the grind.

Simple Pleasures

The Writing:

No new rejections, or acceptances for that matter, but received a publishing agreement on Thursday for Glamour Girls. Signed it and sent it back out Saturday morning.

Hubby and I decided to let a few people sample What It Looks Like From The Outside, people who aren’t friends or family, people who regularly read the genre and would give it a hard, honest critique. I think I’m in a good enough place with it to be able to hear the words “this needs work” or “it got boring here” since that’s the stuff I need to hear, not “oh, it’s so good.”

He converted it to PDF last night, right around the time I got a few ideas to spice up the plot and bring Rational’s story together, something I had struggled with from the beginning. I have to admit that looking over his shoulder, seeing it in semi-book form made me a little excited. I skimmed a few sentences in the prologue and even thought to myself: “That’s pretty good.”

Maybe it was distance that I needed, time away from the novel to be able to look at it in a new light and come back to it with an open mind.

I found a call for a new anthology that I’m interested in. The deadline is a ways away, but I have an idea for it already and want to get cracking on it as soon as I finish the home wrecker story and get back to Beauty for the sex and death anthology.

At Home:

I’ve been wanting to walk out on my part-time job. It was a challenge this weekend and I was feeling like it so wasn’t worth it and I was missing my kids something awful. I pushed through it, though, but getting through the holidays is my goal, if I even make it that far.

The full-time job hasn’t been a picnic, either, but I don’t really have a choice there. I have to do something.

Hubby cooked dinner yesterday so I could spend time with the kids after working all day. I gave them a bath and we rocked them to sleep. They woke up bright and early this morning. I think it was so they could see me before I left for work.

I guess that’s all for now. Back to work. Always work.

The Rejected

Got a rejection fron fishnet mag yesterday for my story, The Evolution Of A Stalker. I was a little disappointed but I do realize I hadn’t done much research on the publication before firing off my submission. I probably could have done more tweaking to the story as well.

When I told hubby about the rejection, he mentioned that I could just include the story in my own collection, which was what I had been thinking. Then he said why not put all the rejected stories in there, but I wouldn’t do that. First of all, how could I put a story intended for Hustler next to a story intended for an anhtology of cowboy erotica? It could be an eclectic collection he said, but I still say no. It would be too all over the place and I don’t want to just throw the reected stories in there just to have somewhere to put them. After all, stories do get rejected for a reason. Even the ones that would fit with my others as a collection, I would want to go through them again to make sure they are the best I can make them before putting them out there. Meanwhile, here’s a sexy snippet of The Evolution of A Stalker:

Disclaimer:



This excerpt contains sexually explicit material. If you are under the age of 18, or if you are offended by such material, please do not continue reading.



And furthermore:



I wrote this. This is mine. Ask before reprinting.



Her phone rang and she grabbed the cordless that sat on the counter. I watched her expression go from breezy and cheerful to tense and angry. She muttered sharp words through clenched teeth and slammed down the phone.

“That’s how I treat my bill collectors, too.” I put it out there to break the tension, to act like I wasn’t quite all up in her business, that I understood we just met and it was none of my fucking business.

“No. That was my stalker.”

And she said it as simply as if she were describing her brother or her cousin. I swallowed hard and glanced toward the door, sliding my shoes closer to me with my feet.

“You want some iced tea with your sandwich, Caesar?”



“Uh,” I began, bending over to put my shoes back on, “you got anything harder than that?”



“Harder, harder…” I heard her mutter as she opened and shut cabinet doors in the kitchen. “I have a little vodka,” she said finally.



“Yeah, yeah, that’ll work,” I said. “Two shots on the rocks, please.”

‘Wow, that’s a mighty strong cocktail for the middle of the afternoon, Caesar,” she said, pulling down two tumblers.



“Yeah, well, I’m on vacation.”



I heard the clink of ice against thick glass and the splash of liquid making contact with it. She came into the living room and placed both glasses on the coffee table.



She sucked her teeth. “I thought I told you to get comfortable.”



“Well, I was, but then I figured I better not in case I gotta get out of here real quick.”



She narrowed her eyes. “Are you tripping about that phone call? Because if you are, then you shouldn’t be.”



“You mention casually that you have a stalker and then you tell me not to worry about it? I don’t think so.”



“Oh, calm down, Caesar. He’s not coming over here. He stopped coming by after I told him I bought a gun.”



I spit the mouthful of vodka clear across the table, spraying the carpet and curtains. “You own a gun?”



“No, I don’t really have a gun. I just told him that so he would stop bothering me.” She sucked her teeth and went into the kitchen and snatched a towel off the counter and handed it to me.



“I see that worked out well,” I said while wiping up my mess.



“Oh, you have no idea. But I don’t want to talk about him.”



She reached for my crotch and rubbed. And while I thought there was no way I could achieve a reasonable hard on with the thought of some dude sitting outside her apartment with a gun in his lap, I felt myself rising and the sweat started pouring from my temples.



“See, isn’t that better, Caesar? Um… Caesar, Caesar, Caesar,” she whispered in my ear. “I just love saying your name.”



She nibbled the lobe of my ear, all the time rubbing my crotch and pulling her hand along the length of my dick through my pants. And, no longer satisfied with that she unzipped my trousers and pulled it out. It lay against my thigh throbbing and she watched it, mesmerized.



“Um, um, um,” she said.



I reached for her like a child wanting to touch a shiny toy but she stopped me with her own hand and grabbed mine in her own, guiding me the way she wanted me to go. She straightened my middle finger and turned my hand palm side up and guided me to her slightly hairy box. She ran my finger up and down her clit, folding her lips and squeezing her eyes tight against the pleasure she was creating for herself with my hand.



My wrist was limp and she used my hand as a dildo pushing my fingers in an out, up and around until she was slick with anticipation. Then she pushed my hand aside and straddled me, sliding onto my dick slowly and precisely, kissing me fiercely whenever I opened my mouth to speak.

With her knees pressed into the cushion of the couch and her arms wrapped tightly around my neck she rode me like I was a mechanical horse and whenever I moved she pressed down harder until I was still and she could do with me as she pleased.



She pushed my head back with a finger against my forehead and her tongue wet my neck from side to side. She flicked it like a snake against my Adam’s apple and sucked it like a nectarine. A swift swerve of her pelvis rendered me speechless and I sat starry eyed with my mouth wide open. She bent her head and grabbed my chin and slipped her tongue inside, sliding it over my teeth, brushing against the insides of my cheeks, sucking on my tongue.



She gently bit my bottom lip and she lowered her hands down my chest where she pinched my nipple, to my belly button and finally to my balls where she caressed them in her palms until my ass rose two inches off the couch and my toes curled enough to grab a patch of the carpet and I exploded inside her and nuzzled my head between her breasts.



She roused me from my lethargic state by tapping the back of my head.



“Hmm?” I managed, my eyes still closed.



“Call me when you want to hook up again,” she said.



I reached for her hips. “But I’m already here and I want to hook up right now. Do I still have to call?”



“No, but I have a job to get back to. I’m not the one on vacation. Besides, I want to take a little nap before I go back to work.”



“Napping is cool. I just need ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go again.”



She tilted her head as if pondering this proposition. “Nah. Maybe in a few days, though. Come by the library if you miss me. I’ll read you some more T. S. Elliot.”



And she lifted herself off me so swiftly and suddenly that my dick fell out of her and landed with a wet thud against my thigh. I watched in utter amazement as she bent to retrieve her clothes and walked naked to her bathroom and turned on the shower.



“Can I join you?” I called from the living room.



“What did I say?” she returned.



“I know, I know,” I said more to myself than to her and pulled my boxers and my trousers back over my hips.



I picked up my wallet and keys that had fallen out of my pocket and headed toward the door.



“So, I’ll call you then?”



“Yeah.”



She was in the shower now and I imagined the hot water beating against her breasts and belly, her hair curly and wet and I was hard again, my dick pulling tight against my trousers. I hurried out the door and into my car, the taste of her lips on my lips, the feel of her skin on my fingertips, the warmth of her insides all over me.

“Damn,” I said out loud, and turned the music up.



Excerpt, The Evolution Of A Stalker, Copyright 2004

Baby Steps

I’ve gone and let myself get exhausted again. I left work early because I was sick and, well, tired. I slept for three hours on the couch, woke up in time enough to go to my part time job and felt like I could have slept even more.

I always feel so spent after finishing something, even somethng so tiny as Home (2,000 words). I just feel like I need to close my eyes for a minute, put the pen down, turn the PC off and just chill. I’m starting to think I need to retreat, to just step back from all of it for a while and come back a little later with a second wind, more energy, and many fresh, new ideas. I’m feeling like I’m pumping out stories in mass production lately and it may be effecting the quality of the writing.

However, I still want to work on the Homewrecker story. I may sacrifice entereing the spanking story contest in order to pull it off and not go insane. We’ll see how I handle concentrating on just one project for a bit.

I received word that I’ll be receiving a publishing agreement for my story in Glamour Girls soon. So, that’s a positive.