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

Updates, New Releases, NaNoWriMo, Etc

New Releases

What a summer its been! When I wasn't hot and sweaty in the kitchen (from canning, I swear :D ), I was tapping it out at the keyboard. I've been lucky enough to be included in some really fantastic anthologies, recently released from Go Deeper Press. Cannot even tell you how excited I am to have my name included in the byline with the likes of Rachel Kramer Bussel, Kristina Lloyd, Tamsin Flowers, Raziel Moore, Sommer Marsden, Lana Fox, Kyoko Church and many others.

Shameless Behavior and Dirty Little Numbers are both available from Go Deeper's website and from Amazon. 

Read my author interview here. It was really fun to do. :)

What Else Is New

If you haven't found me yet, I'm also over on Facebook, and spend more time there than blogging (sorry), so if you haven't liked my author page, do so and leave me a comment if you're so inclined.

NaNoWriMo

Already have a farm, a one-year old, a day job, and writing obligations, so I figured why not try for 50,000 words in a month too. (Yes, even my friends know I'm crazy.) For motivation, I'm going to try and post 100 words of the count here every day, so stop in, cheer me on, and if you're a fellow NaNo writer, leave a link to your writing and I'll return the favor :)

In Sum...

Writing is a wonderful, fulfilling, at times difficult and frustrating experience but its well worth it to work with such awesome people and be around such positive feedback. Always have fun, because when you're not, it means you're doing something wrong.

Until next time, keep smiling, it'll make them wonder what you're up to.

Story Recommendation

As a book reviewer, I've read waaaaay too much sci-fi/fantasy, until the genre became so flooded with werewolves and vampires that I had to retreat to biography and memoir just to get my head back on straight. But this blending of erotica and shapeshifting is perfect. Character needs to come before the magic. Magic is background. Just because you have a cool magic system won't make me care as a reader. Just my two cents though. Anyway, if you're a sci-fi/fantasy fan, or even if you just like erotica, here's a great piece of fiction.

"If You Were Perfect" by Ian D. Smith

Connected Sex

I’ve been struggling lately in what to identify myself as. There’s the whole “labels are subjective” mentality, but if you exist in the world chances are you’ll run into labels. And if you write, you’ll run into a lot of them. For instance, “what do you write about?”

I’ve been saying that I write about “relationships,” which is my healthy euphemism for “sex, sex, sex.” But that’s not all I write about. I’d like to say I write porn, because that’s simple and trashily elegant, but the problem is, I don’t write porn. I write about the relationship between two people, or more, who are having sex with the sex as an extending arm of the relationship. I am not, I repeat, not a romance writer. I don’t use tasteful euphemisms for sex. If my characters fuck, I want to say they fuck, not “she succumbed to the swell of desire as it washed over her like a spring ripe tide,” or some such. If that’s what you write, great. No beef with that. But it’s not me.

I wanted to say that I write intellectual erotica, but that’s not strictly right either. While my training is in writing literary fiction, honestly, I never really got the point of being literary. I mean, yes, literature has its place. And there’s some really amazing stuff out there. There’s also just as much stuff that I read and never had an f’ing clue as to what was going on, let alone how to critically analyze it. (Mostly the Southern and South American writers, but Romantic poets are guilty too.) In my mind, readers need to get what you’re writing about. Hard books should be hard, but if you’re writing erotica, the only thing that should be rock hard is your characters and your reader, not your prose. I have a difficult time getting my lady wood on when I can’t figure out what the hell is going on.

So literary erotica was out.

As is genre erotica, sci-fi/fantasy, mystery, western. I can incorporate these elements, because it seems like that’s what good fiction is doing right now. But if I read another stereotypical vampire/werewolf/succubus gang bang, I’m going to… I don’t know, give up reading as a hobby and stick to burning my nipples while canning or something. (True story.)

Again, if the above mentioned gangbang is your bread and butter, by all means. It’s just not something that I want to do.

Then one day, while I was at my day job and listening to a podcast, (After Dark Radio with Ande Lyons) I realized that what I’m writing about is connected sex. I always thought connected sex was bullshit, until after my last breakup when I started sleeping around rather a bit more than I should have, but found, to my surprise, that when I let go of the desire to have a relationship or anything really meaningful with the guy I was screwing, and instead just enjoyed him for who he was as a person, sex became really enjoyable. Then I met my partner and he and I had the most amazing connection that definitely carries across into the bedroom. Like we just get each other, in just about everything, and have been there for each other through some truly awful shit. And through it all we’ve felt, for lack of a better word, connected, and inspired by one another.

Before, I might have been in a unique situation, because I’m still friends with most of these guys, like can still sit and have a beer together to this day. But it was all positive and made me realize that some relationships, while there’s a connection, might not be meant to last forever. And, amazingly, that’s what I write about: that connection between people, either for a moment or the rest of their lives, that’s what fascinates me and drives me to get out from under the covers in the warm circle of my love’s arms, and go write about other people having sex. Because I don’t write just about relationships, I don’t write porn, I don’t wax literary, I’m not drawn to genre, but I do write about people having engaging, connected, meaningful sex, even if that connectedness and meaning is ephemeral. Sometimes that is what we need too.

Happy reading and writing and keep smiling, it makes them wonder what we’re up to.