Random thoughts on our impending doom and everyday life, courtesy of a Romance Writer who occasionally feels the need to talk like a Sailor.

Wednesday, 27 June 2012

Why you want to drag the Alpha Male back to your cave...

Biologically down through the ages, heterosexual women have leant towards certain men in the tribe. Certain barrel chested, brawny, wide shouldered, rugged looking men. Yeah. Well. Fact is, if another tribe was coming at you with spears? You’d want Conan to hide behind too (Jason Mamoa that is, not Arnie).  You’d want a man who can hunt and throw spears and beat his chest and sh*t. A man who is going to make other men think twice before asking you what you’ve got on underneath your furs, babe. Breed with a big strong guy and you’re more likely to have big strong baby’s who are in turn more likely to survive. So that’s the sheer body type side of things. But what about leadership and a bunch of those traits? That steely look in his eye. The ability to think clearly and quickly in emergencies. His ability to make others trust him with his low gravelly commanding tone of voice. Human beings survive or not in societies and leadership traits establish the pecking order in said societies (duly noted that in said tribe, if you’re mated to the Kennedy of the tribe then that makes you the Jacki, doesn’t it?).

So that’s size and pecking order in the tribe covered but there’s also a third element to the alpha male’s allure. And that is the random elusive something special that is found to be desirable in that society at that point in time. Something that makes other people envious. Money? Access to resources? The size of his tackle? Body hair? Back then in the tribal days body hair was certainly important(ever heard of the Silverback Guerilla?). Is a beard attractive? The classic picture of the alpha male is a bearded male in both of the above circumstances (give or take the Guerilla). In tests done, women give more respect to a bearded man and yet our society does not prize beards. Conundrum indeed.
So why doesn’t it just work that way in real life? We don’t all desire the Alpha male. He can be a stubborn, over-opinionated, interfering type of guy when it comes right down to it. There is documented proof that men with more upper body strength are more likely to believe that force is the way to solve dilemmas and also have a greater sense of self-entitlement. And yet we continue to moon over them in Romancelandia. I know I do. Love a masterful male. Tell me what to do you sexy beast. No - wait - stop! Respect my rights and make me coffee and cup cakes! And drop the kids at school while you're at it! Hurry on you big hairy thing! Damn it. It's all so confusing.

The other interesting thing to notice is that it looks like human beings are wired to fall in love with diversity as well. So some particular traits just don’t do it for some people and there is no deeper reason except that we are predisposed to fall for the girl with the green eyes or the guy with the smexy times voice. And that is one of the features that normally presses back in real life against our desire for the alpha male or the perfecto girlfriend. She actually just doesn’t have those special traits that make that one person stop dead in their tracks. Survival of the species maybe?

While the overwhelming amount of romance novels offer the audience an alpha male, do you need to give them something more? That secretive third element again our reader is hopefully pining for. A tortured hero with a complicated past? A man willing to put others before himself? A brave soul who can love with his whole heart and isn’t adverse to the odd bit of kinky f**kery behind closed doors? A long coat and a cheeky smile (you know I'm thinking Tardis but not mentioning it, right)? What sexy trait draws you in? Come on, share with me. I won’t judge. Much.

P.S. This has been part of another inebriated discussion with my Husband. If I choose to deny any and all parts of it in the morning then that is my legally wedded right.

Monday, 25 June 2012

Rachael Johns makes people cry... or, a look at Jilted.


I don’t like to speak bad of people, or at least not publicly. There’s enough of that out there without me adding to it. And whilst I have no actual proof that Rachael Johns kicks puppies in her spare time (In fact I’m 110% sure she doesn’t. From my interactions with her on twitter she’s always come across as an intelligent, generous human being who probably stoops down low to tickle their plump little bellies.) But the fact remains, Rachael Johns does in fact make people cry and she doesn’t even feel bad about it. And I quote here:

*evil laugh*

Yes. That’s what she tweeted me when I told her of my intent to out her in this review. Can you believe the audacity? There was actually more to it but context is rarely important.

On to the book... Ellie Hughes left our small-town hero, Flynn Quartermaine, standing at the altar a decade back. She scurried off to the city and became a big deal on a soapie, breaking our poor boy's heart in two. Now she’s back to nurse her injured godmother and a whole lotta people are not so happy about it. Why did she break Flynn’s heart? They were the ultimate teenage sweethearts, making out here, there and everywhere, so what the heck happened? Does it even matter anymore? Flynn is more than willing to let it all be water under the bridge and get on with life but small town gossip is not so kind.  When circumstances throw the two back together again all those smouldering, smoky embers roar back to life. Can the ill-fated lovers make it work or will secrets get the better of them?

Jilted is, in a word, ‘charming’. Rural Lit is making waves of late, gaining popularity fast. If you haven’t read any before but are a fan of the happy ever after then  you should definitely give this book a go. It’s very Australian in a really fun way. I found myself chuckling (when not weeping bitterly and shaking my fist at the sky) over the various characters. A lot of them felt like familiar territory which I really enjoyed. Ms Johns has a lovely way about her and tells the story beautifully. The smexy times scenes do pretty much end at the bedroom door but we’re left with absolutely no doubts as to our couples loved up state. There's a definite, satisfying happy ending but you'll shed a couple of tears along the way. Buy it. Be charmed. You won’t regret it. 

To find out more about Rachael Johns and her charming book... 

This has been another Australian Women Writers 2012 Challenge Book Review. To find out more about this most excellent endeavour please bang the button to the side.

Sunday, 24 June 2012

Six Sentence Sunday...

Welcome to another Six Sentence Sunday! Some happy time news today, my book has been given a release date and a new title. 1st of October and ‘Flesh’, respectively. This one is my novel length tale of life after the Zombie apocalypse as opposed to the short and novella I’ve been sharing with you. You can find the first chapter on the tab just above if you’d like a taste. One day I’ll get back to writing about things non-zombie, but that day is not today.

So, back to the standoff from last week as our hero and heroine face each other down the length of their guns. She just commented that it looked like they had a failure to communicate...

   “I’d say it was closer to a Mexican standoff.” A neatly trimmed beard covered half his face making reading him a problem. He was tall, well built; she couldn’t have over-powered him in days of yore. Today it was right out.
   No way was she putting down the gun.
   “Those don’t tend to end well in movies,” she said.

Friday, 22 June 2012

A look at Tonight, My Love by Tracie Sommers...

Right then, let’s get back to banging the drum for Australian Erotica. Up today we have a Spice Brief by Tracie Sommers. Spice Briefs are short story to novella length and designed to arouse. This one came out a couple of years ago and I had heard it mentioned a few times around the traps. There’s a reason for that, it’s really damn good. It is sexy and surprising and takes you places you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to go but have the potential to delight. And oh my Lordy, the ride. I loved it.

It takes place around about the time of Jack the Ripper in London’s Whitechapel. Married couple, Andrew and Isabelle, are looking for a whore to spice up their night. As you do. Andrew invites his wife to choose one and she happens upon the fetching Franny. Now Franny is reluctant to join them in their carriage at first, what with all the murderous happenings going on, but the lure of hot food and good coin soon wins out. So off they take the young woman home to bathe and titillate her. And then some. Any hesitation the girl might have had about the Mrs’s joining in is soon a distant memory. Here follows a F/F/M sex scene that will blow your mind. Steamy doesn’t cover it. My hat is off. I’m not kissing anyone’s feet, but let’s just say this short definitely left an impression.

You can find out more about Tracie and her books here...

This has been another review for Australian Women Writers 2012 Challenge. Bang the badge on the side for more information about this most excellent enterprise.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

In defence of foul language...

Please take the 18+ warning seriously and be elsewhere. Same goes if you're easily offended by bad language...

There have been some discussions of late regarding the use of swear words in writing and social media which interests me. I’m not convinced every second word on Facebook or Twitter needs to be 'fuck' but I do feel this word has its place and I get a little riled up when people dismiss it out of hand. Same goes for the rest of the naughty word hoard. And maybe this is a sensitive subject for me. Say, in the way that censorship is a sensitive issue for anyone with something to say. I believe that if you don’t use swearing, you risk not being authentic. Let’s look at the arguments...

1.       Does not using swear words water down your character?

Remember the film, ‘On Golden Pond’, where the teenager swears and keeps using the word ‘bullshit’? And Henry Fonda’s crotchety old bugger tells the kid it’s a good word? The word acts as a link, bridging the age gap between these two characters. Henry Fonda’s character is a tell-it-like-it-is person who sees much bullshit around him and is more than happy to label it as such. The use of the word strengthens the portrayal of that character and the commonality he shares with a jaded teenager. You couldn’t have told the story without the swear word; there is simply no translation of ‘bullshit’ that would have served the same purpose.

Let’s take a character called Bob. Now, our mate Bob is a Marine (because I write romance and we like our Marines, yes we do) stamping the ground, grumping and groaning because he gets shot in the left buttock. We’ll even make it friendly fire to really rub salt in the wound.

Careful or he's gonna smite you.
“*)#%$#@^&!!!” said Bob to his friend Reg who just accidentally shot him in the arse.

So, what do you imagine that ‘%$#@^&’ to be? Hmm? If Bob just yodels and yowls and hisses then we’re not exactly being true to that character, are we? We’re showing his anger and extreme discomfort, but we’re also slapping a gag order on him. If I’ve picked up that book because I want to read about Bob the Marine, then I don’t want him in measured doses. I want him shown in bright, sparkly rainbow colours that speak of truth and depth of character. I want him to be believable, reacting appropriately to whatever the story throws at him.

2.       Is swearing in theme with what the book is about?

In erotic tales, if your characters are already getting up to steamy, kinky type action operating outside the norms of etiquette and acceptable public acts then the swearing will just be a part of that. So much so that misuse of the right words can be jarring for the reader.  His  ‘male member’ might be his ‘throbbing manhood’ but if you can’t also call it a cock or a dick then you should maybe not be writing what you’re writing. Terminology matters.  Purple prose has been the death of more racy romances than you can imagine. ‘Heat seeking missiles’ and ‘stallion meat’ have no place in books of any worth. Or any other books written. Ever. Or on dirty alley walls. And we’re past the ‘quivering bosom’ stage, aren’t we? Because frankly, if they’re quivering, you need to put on a sports bra and be done with it.

3.       Is swearing in theme with the world that’s been created?

In Deadwood the characters were mostly rolling with a more polite society’s archaic, flowery language – but to counter balance this we had the various whores and nasty types enjoying the lawless atmosphere there. If Deadwood is defined as the place law does not touch then it would have been inauthentic to pussyfoot around the way the populace of that world would talk. The leader of the Chinese community of Deadwood, Wu, only knew two words of English,  ‘Swearengen’ and ‘cocksucker’. But he could put across a wealth of meaning with just those two words.

Ever watch ‘the Wire’? It was a wonderful show dealing with inner city crime and the police task force trying to reduce same. Well, there was a certain scene commonly known as the ‘murder investigation’ scene where the word 'fuck' was said thirty-eight times. It is pretty much the only word said and in so many different contexts that the one word leaves you no doubt as to exactly what they’re talking about. That’s not lazy writing; that extraordinary writing. And you can watch it here if you don't believe me... 

How’s about inventing a language to circumvent the colourful language barrier? Firefly did it with zest by spouting Mandarin. Battlestar Galactica also had their own curses.

4.       Is it just a cheap kick?

There is a genuine reason a writer would use these words; they have clout. While overuse in the wrong context can be facile and annoying (who hasn’t been to a rock concert where every slurred line of speech is abundant with naughty words and the crowd cheers wildly throughout). How cool! And edgy! And shit!? But equally well, it’s pointless and over used. So yes, swearing has its limits. It can get well hackneyed.  In one episode of Game of Thrones the word ‘cunt’ was used four times in different scenes. By the end of it we were all rolling our eyes. Boring! So no, don’t throw it around with giddy abandon. It can get stale. In Game of Thrones it started to stick out as cool word of the week as opposed to a tool for conveying character and mood. In Deadwood, Calamity Jane would have dropped the c-bomb four times in a single scene but it never stuck out as unnecessary. It was her word and it reflected her character.

But to rule it out completely is to limit your writing.  Shakespeare might have eschewed such words but Harold Pinter put them in their place, and rightfully so. (Of course, Shakespeare also invented half the English language so I dare I say, the rules do not apply. If you have that sort of license you don’t need to swear.)

One of the main arguments against swearing is that if it is not usually used in that context and in that type of story-telling then it can jump the reader or the audience out of the story. The reader will be startled, shifting from being in the world you’ve created to thinking about the author using a particular word. In other words, you’ve lost them baby. The continuity in whatever magic you made that had them turning the page is cut. Respect your audience.

In all, there are reasons to be careful in your use of offensive language, but to rule it out completely is stupidity. There are important reasons especially based on authenticity to character, to story and world for using such words.

Monday, 18 June 2012

Alien Sex... or, a look at Galactic Inferno by Mel Teshco

When a mother-ship load of big burly male Aliens unwittingly unleash a nasty virus upon mankind, accidentally killing off just about everyone apart from a few random human females, there’s only one answer. Repopulate! But there’s more to this tale than Alien sex. (Though rest assured the Alien sex is awful good and hot and well worth the wait.) Ms Teshco nicely shapes an almost empty world for us where survival is the key, but love might just be the answer.

Ally is stumbling around Sydney in shock with her beloved dog Bonnie at her heel. She's doing her best to avoid ‘the eyes in the sky’ looking for survivors just like her. Her memory is patchy due to the virus and the death and destruction surrounding her would be enough to do anyone’s head in. But there are more than just Alien hotties on the hunt. Feral dog packs now roam the streets and these puppies have developed a taste of human flesh. Renate, one of the hated Alien race, rescues our heroine from certain death care of just such a dog. What does the Alien want? (Apart from to Repopulate! that is.) And why does Ally feel such a strong pull towards him? Is it Alien mind tricks or something more?

Galactic Inferno is a fine release from Ellora's Cave, and if you haven't read any of Mel Teshoco's books before then you're in for a real treat. Her heroines are genuine and likeable, everyday women. It’s easy to put yourself in their shoes and walk a while, indulging in the adventure of a life time and a spot of practising repopulation methods. Her heroes, on the otherhand, are all that is hot and good in this world. Or other worlds, as the case may be.  The relationship that evolves between Ally and Renate is swift but heartfelt and very believable. And steamy. Mondo steamy. Because Inter-World relations are important after all. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it.

You can grab Mel's books through her website...

And here's a copy of an awesome interview with her from the other day...

This has been another Australian Women Writers 2012 Challenge review. You can hit up their website for more booky goodness by banging on the button to the side of the screen. Do so. Now. Please.

Sunday, 17 June 2012

Six Sentence Sunday...

     Welcome to another Six Sentence Sunday. This week we're starting on something new, another girl gadding about Post-Zombie-Apocalypse because that's how I roll. She was just doing a little re-stocking of supplies in a Chemist when a big brawny non-zombie stranger  appeared. And aren’t those the best kind of strangers? Yes indeed. Will they become fast friends or will they shoot each other? We shall see…

     The man cleared his throat and her rifle jumped in her hands. He wasn’t small, the action was warranted.
     “I have no intention of hurting you,” he said. “But I have no intention of getting shot either. I’m not putting down the gun until you do.”
     “Seems what we have here is a failure to communicate.”

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

How to take that spanking and come back smiling!

Life is full of rejection. From the sly little ones, like...
“That’s an interesting shirt you’re wearing.”
“Oh. Nice.”
“Isn’t that cute.”
Through to the big juicy ones, like...
“You smell weird.”
“Good God, you suck.”
“No. I don’t want to marry you. And stop following me around.”

A man standing a field, waiting for his spanking. Obviously.
Yes. We’ve all been there. And if you’re of the writerly persuasion in some sense, you live there all the damn time. Don’t you? Well? Admit it! Yes, you do. Because there’s always another put down lurking around the corner. You know there is. It's probably even skulking. Let me over share with you now. Please. It’ll be cathartic for me.

On Saturday a snappy little short story that I was quite keen on went before a new friend of mine. A published author. Let’s code name her ‘Dragon Lady’ for the sake of this re-enactment. She loved the voice. She loved the story. Glowy warmth was a buzzing inside me but I wasn’t really surprised by her adoration. Everyone it had gone before previously had liked it too. And then she hit me with this. 

Dragon Lady: There is no emotion in your sex.
Me: WTF?
Dragon Lady: Yes. Sorry.
I was stunned. No emotion in the sex? Are you serious? The guy just battled zombies to be with her! What does a guy have to do to say he cares? I ranted, I raged, I drank somewhere in the region of four to five Silver Tequila’s with a dash of Guava. Just enough to give me a crystal clear perspective on the situation. And it did. Dragon Lady was wrong. So wrong, she couldn’t even see how wrong she was. She was simply that wrong. Wrongness leached from her. A lot like the black inky goop in that Florence and the Machine video, the one where she’s at the ice-skating rink.

My husband nodded and made all the right noises. (My husband is untold amounts of sublime and I have no idea how he puts up with me. Case in point.) Eventually, three hours later, I decided to sit back down in front of the story and actually look for myself. Vaguely, if you were twisted and wrong, you could perhaps have thought my super cool hero only battled zombies and climbed the side of the building to get laid. Perhaps. But not really. Though sorta. So I layered in some stuff. You could call it emotion, I suppose. It consisted of a bit of a hint here and there with regards to how he felt about the heroine. Before and after and while doing the deed. So there, take that Dragon Lady! Mwahaha! Emotion. Done. Feeling untold amounts of justified I emailed it off and waited with grand impatience. She loved it! Perfection! We’re best friends! We’re going to try critiquing for each other more often and we’ll sit together at the Awards dinner at conference! Huzzah!

Now, let’s look more closely at the various stages of rejection. 

1.       WTF?
2.       Where did that come from?
3.       They’re wrong.
4.       Probably jealous of me or something.
5.       Yeah, bet they are. Jealous of the genius inherent in my MS, “Mark the Lonely Goat Herder’s Erotic Self-Adventures”. Based on a true life story and everything!
6.       I knew it.
7.       But what was this bit that they wrote? That bit over here?
8.       Doesn’t make sense.
9.       Or does it?
10.   Sh*t.
11.   Head meets desk. Damn. They’re right.
12.   WTF do I do?
13.   Abandon ship. Quick! Stick it under the bed! Run! Hide!
14.   No. Wait. Hang on. Maybe there is hope. Maybe if I tweak here and there.
15.   Work ass off and actually incorporate some of the criticism.
16.   Emerge with shining MS clasped tight in your hot little hands. All the better for your having opened your mind and been willing to admit maybe you don’t know everything!

Alright, I’ve gone on long enough. Critting is hard to give and even harder to take. I don’t think I do either particularly well. There is much yet to learn. How do you do?

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

Lust Plague by Cari Silverwood... or, a look at the fine art of crossing Zombies, Steampunk & BDSM.

Airship Captain Kaysana is about to have a truly crappy day. The Lust Plague, capable of turning people into raping, torturing, murderous Zombies has infected her ship. (I could stop at this point to make all sorts of puns about her going down with the ship but I won’t. I’m attempting to be more grownup like that.) So, anyways, Kaysana is attacked by a slavering hoard hell bent on torturing and eventually murdering her in a kinky-town fashion. Who’s going to rescue her? Because someone has to!

Cue the entrance of our hero, Sten, a Frankenstruct (Isn’t that the coolest word you’ve seen in a long time?). A monolith of a man who has a Hulk like temper he keeps under control via the use of meditation and Zen suchlike systems. Now, Sten is Alpha Dom to the core and a real rough and rugged charmer. I dare you not to adore him. And our Sten has a great, big thing for the usually buttoned down Captain (I’m allowed one pun, surely...). This unlikely duo of elite Airship Captain and sub-human Frankenstruct are going to have to don goggles and team up  together to stop the plague and save the day.

 Now, I have to admire any Author willing to go so crazy cross genre with the Zombie love.  And Ms Silverwood does it with style and then some. The writing is fabulous and the characters spell-binding. Sten the big brute being the perfect example. He has a wonderful sense of humour. Don’t you love a man with wit? A nice dry dash of sarcastic humour to pull everything into perspective? Yes, Sir-ee. I don’t usually read Steampunk. It’s not really my thing. But this book hooked me well and truly. It deserves all sorts of ‘rollicking good romp’ and ‘steamy sexy times’ labels slapped all over it. The world building is intriguing and the BDSM contained within is handled by deft hands indeed. Add to this that Ms Silverwood is a home grown talent and I am one happy camper. 

This has been another review for the Australian Women Writers Challenge 2012. If you haven't checked out their great site yet then bang on the button to the side. Go on.

Sunday, 10 June 2012

Six Sentence Sunday... smoochin goodness.

     Happy Sunday and welcome to the last snippet between Natalie and Angus. Next weekend we might kick off with something new. You see there’s this other poor girl who’s been busy trying to survive the zombie apocalypse and she’s in a world of trouble. We might catch up with her and see if we can’t fandangle a happy ever after somehow.

  But for now… the kiss. Have a great week!

     Coherent thought sailed straight out the window. He smashed his lips to hers. Shoved his tongue into her mouth. There was nothing smooth or controlled about it. Natalie made a noise beneath him and it might have been laughter but he was too busy to care. Too taken up with kissing her, deep and wet.

Friday, 8 June 2012

Wherein I apologise for objectifying certain people...

It’s recently been brought to my attention that objectifying people is wrong. Really, really wrong. Because beautiful people have minds too. Personalities. Stuff. You know what I mean. So I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise.  You could say it’s part of the Act Appropriate mantra taken from the last post I did on etiquette. 

Now, some schools of thought believe that objectifying or surveying certain people purely with regards to sexual intent is harmful. It’s possibly bad for you baby. It’s also possibly demeaning to the person involved. On the other hand, to see someone sexually and to appreciate their physical appearance is not necessarily to believe that they don’t have other facets to their personality. That they lack intelligence or a life worth living outside of being a sexual object. Maybe it cuts both ways, hmm? 

There are no doubt situations wherein people are so obsessed with seeing a particular person in a sexual frame of mind that they cease to realise the person exists outside of this. But equally of course there has to be some space for appreciating people’s physical beauty and sexuality not least because we all do it with our partners and potential partners. There would presumably be something wrong with our relationships if we didn’t do so. 

So it can’t follow automatically that perceiving someone as beautiful and sexually attractive is to forget that they have other dimensions to their character. It’s also not to say that there isn’t art within the sexually charged shots. You can find the image of a person sexually attractive because that picture tells you something about that photo that appeals to your sexy time side.

Wednesday, 6 June 2012

Etiquette by me... because stranger things have happened.

My husband won’t tell me what to write about on my blog. I don’t know what his problem his. Something about my interrupting him in the middle of his busy important work day when he is on a deadline and overstressed and blah blah blah. Aren’t we all? He’s refusing to discuss my favourite TV or movie or whatever random bit of crap currently holds my attention courtesy of the internet. He apparently doesn’t care. Rude, much? I know! Like marriage was meant to be easy. As. If.

Birthday boy or not, hogging the cake is way uncool, Rodney.
Therefore, we shall discuss manners. It could have been priorities and my husband’s lack of them, but for now let’s roll with manners. Due to the rise of Email and Facebook and Twitter and every other damn mode of communication we have at our finger tips, manners has become a bit of an issue. Who do you follow on Twit? What if they don’t follow you? What if they’re having a conversation with someone and you’ve had the funniest darn one-liner of all time appear in your head and are just dying to insert it? What do you do? What? WHAT? #convointruder only gets you so far. The lines are blurred and the honest answer is – I don’t know. When does friendly become stalker painful? What if you’re following someone and they don’t follow you back? What to do? And humour, it’s a bitch and it doesn’t always carry well, no matter the amounts of ;) attached.

The propensity for us to curl up into our paranoid, self-obsessed, anti-social geeky little shells is high given the stresses inflicted by the abundance of chat thrust upon us. And let’s face it, for writers at least, the introversion thing generally rings true. Social graces aren’t always rocking and rolling. Or maybe that’s just me. It’s probably just me.  See – PARANOIA!!! F*ck it. Go forth with good intentions and learn when to back off. Hopefully. But here are some things to think about...

Be Generous – If someone @’s you then reply. Unless you’re the President of the United States or Neil Gaiman... you know what I mean. Go on, it won’t hurt you to make friends. Much. Or it shouldn’t.

Think Twice – I could perhaps benefit from this one. Because that joke about cat poop I just put on Facebook, well... I don’t think it’s going to go over so well. But it made me laugh... but then there’s your audience to consider. And perhaps good taste. Oh well.

Act Appropriate – There was an interesting debate going on about the content of blogs and such like being G rated across the board. Umm, no. But do be a dear and give a warning. And remember, there are times and places. Potty humour aside, maybe the F-bomb doesn’t belong on Twitter and FB. I dunno. Are you going to peeve more people than you impress? Should it matter? What if you’re some free radical crazy boozing it up and having a blast? Well? So go for it. But remember, if people are tuning you out then thems the breaks. Have you considered the well bred * insertion into your language? I think it looks cute. I really like it. Yeah, M*t*er F*c*er!!! Or perhaps the abbreviated WTF? Consider.

I’m not telling you to express yourself in ways that are untrue to your wholesome loveliness. I’ve been accused of being crass on more than one occasion. But it can pay to think about what you’re putting out there. We’re all learning on the fly, this is the truth. And if you’re online in a professional capacity then it’s worth contemplation. I myself have an L plate stuck to my forehead and maybe this was all to get it straight in my own head, but I hope some of this has been of use.

One last hard definite for people of the writerly persuasion...

Don't send nasty crap to Publishers or Agents when they reject you – It makes me sad that this even needs to be stated and yet I keep seeing it coming up time and again. Don’t do it. Pointless. Unprofessional. And maybe the catharsis is not so helpful if you just vent and jump up and down and wave your arms and sh*t. Maybe you should take some time and figure out if there was actually something to what they said. You never know. But if you can’t take rejection then boy are you in the wrong business. This applies to book reviewers and competition judges too. You will never please everyone and not everyone’s going to love you. Walk away.  So they didn’t get your tortured tale of torrid love between the Billionaires Undead Virgin Bride and whoever. Move on! If you can’t think of anything nice to say then thank them for their time and leave it be. Or better yet, say nothing.

Sunday, 3 June 2012

Six Sentence Sunday...

Alright, apologies for my absence last week. I was off at a writing retreat and the internet was dodgy. You’d be amazed how much work got done due to that fact. Or perhaps not...

Now to end the will-she-won’t-she going on between our poor long suffering Angus and the capricious Natalie.  I actually left out a few lines but I figured we’d dallied here long enough. Next week I’ll even lay a big smooch on you just to round things off.

Have an awesome Sunday and start of the week! Thanks for dropping by!

“I mean, I want to have sex with you.”
Natalie’s eyes darkened and her mouth opened, but she said nothing for the longest time.
He could have choked on the silence.
Then her soft hands cupped his face, drawing him in. And God, he wanted in. More than he could remember ever wanting anything, he wanted inside of her.