NaNo Day #8

There’s not just one reason that I hate romance novels. For one thing, they disappointed me. You have the romance, you get the guy, game over. Except when the guys are only in it to have sex with you and vanish. Or not talk. Or pretend it didn’t happen. See, romance novels led me to believe that a guy was supposed to have feelings for you and fall in love with you.

Not so.

So that was my first real heartbreak. Not boys, but realizing that the romance novels I loved so much, that I read devotedly, lied.

Word Count: 18,535

NaNo tease Day #7

We’d been involved with Sabrina on and off for two years. She’d taken a couple breaks from our ménage to pursue relationships with other men, and the occasional woman. When those relationships ran their course, she called us. Once, she’d asked to invite her boyfriend to play and Sean and I accepted, but he’d been a little too freaked out for a second date with the four of us. It’s swinging if you swap wives, it’s poly when the two men get busy, and the boyfriend had been a little too homophobic for that. Sabrina was currently single though, and with my birthday coming up, Sean had decided on the perfect way to torment me about it.

“Everything I do to you, I’ll do to her,” he said. “And it’ll make you crazy because you’ll know exactly how it feels, exactly what you’re in for. But if you move, if you make a sound, or if you touch yourself, I’ll just keep touching her and you’ll have to wait.”

It was a simple word: wait. It’s also a four letter word. I hate waiting. I’m terrible at it. I get impatient and change lines at least twice at the grocery store. I ignore Sean when he points out that if I’d stuck with the original line, I’d probably be done by now. So for him to tell me that, to lay that stipulation on it, to put all the pressure on me and my patience, that was worse than waiting for the first blow. The anticipation I could usually deal with, especially when he tied me down and forced me to wait. But to do it of my own volition? Oh now this man knew how to tease me.

Breaking the Rules

So I didn’t set out to adhere to all the rules of NaNo. In fact, other than 50,000 words toward a novel, I didn’t know there were any hard and fast rules. My main goal was to get words on paper and push past the word count block I've had. So in that way, I’ve already won. Keeping it up for a month? That’ll be the true test. I’ve also learned that I can’t just write fiction. I have to get all the junk out of my head first, recap the day or write about events as they happen, and get the gunk out of the pipes so when the fiction does come, it doesn’t get bogged down in all the soap scum and hair balls of meaningless emotions and crap that tend to clog up my writing drain. In short, I have to clean the sink trap of my brain daily. Since my life is pretty undramatic, I should probably feel weird about this. Do I? Not really. It’s not any stranger than having to have a cup of tea and a black cat on your lap before you can sit down and write. And if cleaning the pipes gets me to word count more days than not? Bring it. And gods help my son if he ever starts reading the old rough drafts. He might find out more about his dad’s and my romantic life than he ever wanted to know!

Anyway, for more on breaking the rules, there’s a wonderful post at http://blog.patrickrothfuss.com/2011/12/nanowrimo-epilogue/.

And before I forget, here’s a clip from today’s writing stint. Enjoy :)

As he reduces her to the same well-pleasured puddle of desire that he can so easily reduce me to, I whimper with frustration. I can feel my panties growing increasingly sodden—not wet, drenched—and I ache for his mouth, her mouth, anyone’s mouth, sucking my clit; or for his cock to pound out the aching desire throbbing through my lower lips.

He hears the sound and his eyes flash as they make contact with mine. He ceases in his endless teasing of [her] neck, upper back, and shoulders and instead reaches around and thrusts a finger into her wet pussy. He uses his other arm to haul her tight against him when her knees buckle.

I bite my lip, determined not to make another sound. He’s doing this to punish me, to make me wait for it, to make me want it so badly I can’t stand it. And I do, I want to cry, I really do. I want your cock in my cunt, I want your teeth to sink into the flesh at my shoulder, I want your palm to crack over my ass, raising red marks and the rush of heat and tingles that follow. I want I want I want…

But instead I bite my lip and wait, because for every thing I want, there is a price. And I am willing to pay it. The waiting will only make that first blow so much more sweet.

NaNo Catchup

All right so, worst blogger ever :-p I honestly forgot that I promised to post snippets every day. So here are a few to get us back on track. Enjoy!

1.

I loved when she tugged me down the bed by my hips, forcing her groin against mine. She’d strip off my shorts with her mouth following, kissing, licking, teasing its way to my delta, then kissing and nipping across my thighs before settling in with one teasing stroke of her tongue over my throbbing pussy. I’d arch against the bed, aching for her, and still she’d tease me, licking her, nibbling here, until she finally set to her work with diligence, working my pussy over with the thicker part of her tongue, then thrusting a long finger into me, touching my G spot, making me explode into a star burst. At least that’s what I saw when I came, bursts of light as if stars rained down, as my lower body shook and clenched. And I came back down to earth, I’d reach for her and let her cradle me in her arms. I’ve always had this idea that that’s what love is like.

2.

My husband is a big man, a quiet man, a good man. His hands are big and scarred, tough but gentle when they reach for me. I could ask for a less serious man, a more well-liked man. But this man, my man, is the one for me. Even if my father does look daggers at him from across the table at family suppers. In my father’s day the Saxons, my husband’s people, were still a threat in these islands. The Roman legions had departed, draining like water out of sand away from our shores, leaving the broken tribes to defend themselves against these strange warriors who lapped against our lands like tides, before finally overrunning us and assuming our lands and herds. As the Romans once did.

3.

He didn’t say anything, just ran his hands over my body. I came alive under his hands, my skin burned as if a fire had been lit within me. I dropped my head back, luxuriating in the exquisite sensation of his body meeting mine.

And then it happened.

He sat up, guided me off him, then settled himself behind me, positioning me on all fours. He gliding his hand up and down my back, feeling all the curves of my strong back. As his hand ran over my ass, he grabbed a big handful and grunted. For a moment, cold air rushed to cool the heated spot he’d made with his hand on my flesh, then a loud crack, followed by the hot sting of pain as his palm cracked across the skin of my bare ass.

4.

We’d even gone out on a few socials and gone out for drinks with our dates a few times, me with Jeremy, and Claire with her flavor of the… Week? Month? I didn't know her well enough to speculate, but on the last outing when she’d brought a female instead of a male occasioned many raised eyebrows and discreet nudges between Jeremy and myself. And when we stripped each other naked at home that night and I lay on my belly clutching the rails of the headboard for dear life while he thrust into me from behind, we whispered all the things we would do if Claire were in bed with us.

5.

I help her up the steps, holding her up when she trips over the warped floorboards. She mutters something and sags against me, so I sweep her up in my arms and carry her inside. The house isn’t tidy, but it’s clean enough and smells of unwashed dishes and baby. I use my foot to clear the clean laundry and box of diapers spilling folded rectangles from its’ half-open flaps off the couch and lay her there.

“What was that?” I say when I hear her muttering.

She opens her eyes and looks directly at me.

“It should have been you,” she says. “It should have been us.”

Her words gut me.

There’s nothing I can do. My throat is too tight to say anything.

So like so many times in our relationship, I don’t say anything. I kiss her forehead and I leave.

Review - Dark Secret Love by Alison Tyler

In my opinion, this book simply can't get enough rave reviews. It was hands down my favorite literary erotic novel of the year. (I also read Fifty Shades this year, but luckily I don't grade on a curve.)

Actually, the best review for this came from a friend of mine, who I loaned Dark Secret Love to. The following is paraphrased but it captures most of her sentiments.

It just brought out this part of me I didn't know I had. Like I don't want to kiss the end of anyone's cane or anything or get tied up, but some of the things the character was thinking and what she said, I've always struggled with how to say things and she helped me get it out. Like I communicate better with my boyfriend now than I've ever talked to anybody, because of reading this book.

She and I have been friends for almost three years and this was by far the most positive I'd seen her about men and love in general. Not sure there's a more positive endorsement for this work than that. :)

The NaNo Jitters

I think every writer has this, at least those insane enough late one night after too many glasses of wine to jot down their information and think, “50,000 words in a month? That’s not so bad. I can do that.” Then comes the harsh light of a cool fall morning, with frost on your windshield and the baby screaming, and suddenly it punches you in the gut—panic. Sheer and utter panic. Mixed with morning-after regret. “50 thousand words in a month? WTF… I haven’t even written fifty words this week! Unless typing the title for the review of Fifty Shades of Grey actually counts as fifty words…”

And the NaNo Jitters have set in.

Mine hit even before I finished the sign up form for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I have a day job, a young child, a farm, and other writing obligations. I also devote time every day to fitness and cooking and keeping house and spending time with my Spousal-Type Creature. There’s a lot of hats there. But one of my favorite mantras right now is from the well-known writer Elizabeth Gilbert. And that is “creativity is the art of showing up.” (To hear more about this idea, check out her TEDtalk.)

I have a lot of time to think during my day job. So I had time to reflect on this meditation. There’s many ways to approach this. But at its heart, it means that showing up every day and putting in the work of creativity, eventually you’ll train your muse to show up. NaNo might be an extreme way to train your muse, but you know what? Its 30 days. 30 days out of the 365 days in the rest of the year. You can do anything for 30 days. And it’s good to shake things up, to change your routine, to push your comfort zone, and to check out the limits of what you think you can do. 

We’ll call this the “better to have loved and lost” phenomenon. Some people go their whole lives without challenging themselves, without pushing their physical/mental/emotional limits. Are they any happier than someone who does challenge themselves and push their limits? I’d take a venture and say no. A life unexamined, a life without risks (within reason, don’t do anything crazy like jump off a building hoping to land safely, I’m talking about word count here, that’s pretty innocuous), is no life. There will always be that regret, that niggling feeling that you could have done more. I can’t speak for everyone, but I wouldn’t want to live with the feeling that I could have tried harder. 

So to all of you NaNo writers, take a deep breath and know we’re all pulling for each other. And we’re all writing the same way, one word at a time. Even if some days if it’s like searching for the next word with two hands and a flash light, if you keep showing up, if you keep writing, you keep challenging yourself. And none of us should ever stop doing that.

Are you a NaNo? Stop by and add me as a buddy, let’s help encourage each other! We can do it! http://nanowrimo.org/participants/axalee