Scarlett Parrish

A profusion of filthy books

2012-01-17T15:40:00.000Z

So, yeah, hi. I'm still alive. Were you worried about me? Whadaya mean, no?

Anyhoo...sometimes that four-letter word gets in the way: life. I've been pootling around on Twitter but haven't had all that much of a web presence in the past couple of months. I suppose I should do something about that.

So here I are. This post will just be a brief catch-up and hopefully soon I'll get back into the swing of 'proper' blogging.

First up, the cover art for the anthology in which my short story, Burn, appears:

Linkage will appear on this very blog when said linkage becomes availabubble.

Secondly, Stay the Night has gone third party.

It's available on Amazon UK here, Amazon US here and AllRomanceEbooks here. I'll add the links to my 'Books by Scarlett Parrish' page above, adding other links when I come across them.

Stay the Night has also just been released in print, so pootle off to the Total-e-Bound website and order yourself some hard copy, hardcore buttsecks. It doesn't look as if it's on Amazon UK or US yet, but when it is, I'll be sure to let you know.

I'm still awaiting my author copies so you'll have to wait for a signed copy giveaway there, but in the meantime, I've received author copies of two other print books.

My short story Temporary Position is part of the Tempting Temps, Volume 2 anthology.

It's available on Amazon UK here and Amazon US here. You can also order through the Total-e-Bound website here.

Last but by no means least, Daniel Fucking Cross is now available in hard copy. Yes, you can get your filthy mitts on DFC himself. Behold!

Amazon UK link -- Amazon US link.

I'll be staging giveaways for the above two paperbacks once I get my arse in gear and sort out what I'm doing with this blog in 2012! So much for me being organised, eh? I have guest posts to compose, giveaways to organise and...oh yeah, other books to write.

So wish me luck. The filth needs to keep coming. (Ooh err.)

Best recommendation ever

2011-12-14T16:29:00.000Z

This from @gingerkytten as she's known on Twitter, or "You filthy whore," as I call her often by email:

If it wasn't your intention to give me fucking hand cramps you shouldn't have written such sinful buttsecksing filth.

You can quote that on your webhole if you want.

Does that count as fanmail?

Celebrate St. Andrew's Day in style

2011-11-30T13:05:00.000Z

Fuck a Scotsman!

Or two.

I quit

2011-11-27T16:34:00.000Z

I hate to say it, but it's true.

Earlier this month, I turned in the manuscript of Burn, promptly developed a three-day migraine (during which time I lost my stomach lining, a lung and half a kidney through vomiting so hard) and decided this year, it was probably best if I just quit NaNoWriMo.

I despise the thought of giving up on something I've begun, so you can imagine how I mentally kicked myself for doing this, although of course, I saved the kicking until after the migraine.

Anyway, my reasons?

Due to various health problems and other difficulties, I fell behind with my projected word count and while it would have been possible to catch up if I'd had a couple of 5k-word days, I realised that wasn't likely, given that I haven't had a 5k day in months. To go from a very low daily turnout to several 5k days in a row? A lot of pressure to put on myself, and given that my head was already pounding, I decided I didn't need the added stress.

Maybe I could have caught up again if I'd pushed myself. Maybe those several 5k days in a row would have been possible. Maybe I am a quitter. But...*shrugs* I'm still writing. It's not like I've stopped completely. I've just come to realise I'm not going to finish the book I'm currently working on by the end of the month without developing seventeen migraines and having a nervous breakdown alongside. So, not worth the risk, healthwise.

I'm sorry and it's regrettable, but it's not the end of the world.

Jared Leto says so.

Yes, it's another writer writing about writing

2011-11-04T12:46:00.000Z

I haven't done NaNo for two years and as 2011 has been not-very-productive for me, I decided to sign up as a way of getting up some momentum. I hope.

At the start of this year I worked on pre-publication edits for A Little Death. I then wrote Stay the Night and Temporary Position, giving me an approximate fresh words total of 69k words. I'm not counting the work done on ALD of course, because I'm referring to first drafts only.

69k for the first ten months of this year. Pathetic, considering 2009's total was approximately 400k. You can see why I signed up for NaNo.

And...I'm cheating.

You're supposed to write 50k words on a brand, spanking new idea. Me? I've decided to complete a story which I've already sold and begun to write (yes, in that order) -- Burn. From the start of November, that needed another 11k words to meet my target. I'm making good progress on it.

After that, I'm going to work on a BDSM-lite novella with a target of 35k, which will bring me up to 46k in total.

So after I finish that, I'll write 4k of another story -- probably the already-started idea I had lined up for December -- and I'll be done.

Working on three separate stories, two of which I'd already begun work on, isn't following the rules I know, but I'm trying to think positively. As long as I get writing, that'll be an improvement on recent months. I'll have Burn finished, plus my NaNovella and I'll have made inroads on my next book (M/M vampires). I'll complete that in December, aiming to add another 30k or so to it.

My main goal (after meeting November's word count goal of course) is to keep the momentum going. Other times I've done NaNo, December has seen my word count drop considerably -- usually by half. It's normal for me to do 50k in November and 25k in December. That's still not a bad total, but I don't want January to see me write next to nothing. I want to maintain that productivity. 30k a month would be cool. That's half a novel going by erotic romance epublisher standards, or a complete novella.

That said, I need to leave myself room to work on my agent bait novel on the side, but we'll see how it goes.

Fingers crossed. And given that I wrote absolutely nothing yesterday (damn my social life!) I must get back to work. Wish me luck!

TEMPORARY POSITION now available

2011-10-31T12:00:00.002Z

TEMPORARY POSITION
M/F/M contemporary menage

Jess Ludlow thought she was agreeing to work on the shop floor, not all fours.

Jess Ludlow’s spent three months trying to pretend she didn’t kiss two work colleagues after a staff dinner. They might not all work in the same department store but they’re employees of the same parent company and these things have a habit of refusing to be forgotten. The biggest problem is deciding what she regrets more – kissing Tyler and Sebastian at all, or walking away.

Both men have a vacancy only Jess can fill. A staffing dilemma gives them the perfect excuse to draft her in, and a brief window of opportunity to convince her they have unfinished business. Tyler can sweet-talk her in English, Sebastian’s fluent in Swedish, so between them (which is where Jess belongs), they’re ready to pull out all the stops.

And the nipple-clamps.

###

Purchase from Total-e-Bound here.

You can't keep a good man (or Daniel Fucking Cross) down

2011-10-28T00:31:00.001+01:00

I recently had some news of Daniel Fucking Cross. Apparently he's so perverted, dirty, filthy, insatiable and smextacular he cannot be confined to mere ebook format and he will be released in print, soon.

Yes, you heard me -- okay, read me -- correctly.

Soon, yes, soon, oh lovers of The Crosspeen, you will be able to get your mucky paws on a hard, oh-so-hard, copy of the book of Daniel.

I'll blog links 'n' shit (<---my profeshnulisms, I haz dem. Please to behold) as soon as they become available but at a very rough guesstimate, early new year, maybe?

Mayhap I should have my author copies laminated to prevent fluid damage.

While you wait for the winged one's wang, here's the cover flat for By the Book. Click on the pic to embiggen its wondrous perversion.

What's the point (of view)?

2011-10-19T01:47:00.000+01:00

I've sold seven books and six of those are written in first person point of view. For whatever reason, I find it much easier, much more 'me' to write in first.

The only book of mine written in third person is Dark-Adapted Eyes, which will be released by Total-e-Bound next April. I wrote the first (scrappy) draft of it a few years back and put it to one side until I realised I was an erotica author. Then I sexed it up and managed to get a coherent storyline out of it. It's written in third, as I said, with each individual chapter being dedicated to one of the four main characters. I don't head-jump; each chapter is solely the narrative property of Cress, Fern, Gabe or Alex.

In first person point of view it's impossible to head-jump. That's one of the things I like about it.

But my favourite thing about first person is the 'truthiness' of it. Let me explain what I mean by that.

I've had some lovely compliments on my books, especially with regard to character development, but a few readers have said, "I wish I could have found out more about this character or that." Well...guess what? In first person, you can't just leap into someone else's head, examine their thoughts and motivations. It's impossible. (Okay, you can have rotating first person point of view, but up 'til now my first person books have remained in one head and one head only.)

Think about real life. Your thoughts might go a little something like this: "I'm hungry. Wonder if I should cook something proper? Nah, I'll just have a biscuit. Wonder what's on telly tonight? I should give so-and-so a call. I'll do that after I return all those emails."

How many heads are you in? One. But think about your friends and family -- you still know them, right? How? Familiarity. You're accustomed to their actions, patterns of behaviour and so on. You're never in anyone else's head and yet you still feel confident that you know these people, and can predict with some degree of confidence what they would do under certain circumstances.

So why do some readers think you need to jump into someone's head to get to know that character more intimately? I've already said you can't examine someone else's thoughts in first person, but you don't need to, to get to know them intimately. After all, you can't read your friends' thoughts in real life, can you? But you still know them well.

I've mentioned rotating first person but I can't think of a story I've written so far that would benefit from this. Mixing it up in such a way wouldn't add anything to my books -- in fact it would be cheating. I've seen it done well (and not so well) but in my case, there would be nothing to be gained by attempting to add another distinct character voice to the narrative. And that's the tough thing -- making multiple first person distinct enough for the reader not to be confused.

Dark-Adapted Eyes jumps from character to character, but the book's told in the narrator's voice, not those of the characters, so perhaps I can get away with it. I hope so. I very much prefer first person and while I wouldn't say I'll never write in third again, I feel much more settled in first. I actually wrote the first draft of DAE long before I wrote my first published novel, Long Time Coming, and saw no way to be able to adapt it into first when I revised the story.

In the case of my first attempt at writing a novel, I used third. On the rewrites, I moved to first and that was one of the things that helped the story to flow. That and adding a polar buttload of smex, of course! That book eventually became A Little Death and the main character, Mallory, was at the centre of the action. For a time I considered writing one section of the book inside Jonathan (her vampire lover's head) but decided it would be too jarring. I had to stay in Mallory's thoughts to make the book flow, so I had to figure out how to make a few 'problem' scenes work if I saw them through her eyes.

Dark-Adapted Eyes, on the other hand, has too many characters -- four main ones, as I've said -- to make this possible. The characters all know things the other characters don't, information is passed on to different people at different times, I had to show the dynamic between certain pairings within the overall group dynamic, so...third person it was.

Whether you're a reader or a writer (or both), what are your preferences of point of view?

STAY THE NIGHT now available

2011-10-17T19:19:00.000+01:00

STAY THE NIGHT
M/M contemporary erotic romance

Kit Blackman's anti-social facade cracks when a new co-tenant moves into his house - and bed - but unless he lets Steven in where it matters, Kit will end up sleeping alone. Permanently.

Kit Blackman is anti-social, insular and bad-tempered...and those are his good points. As well as an attitude problem, he's also got a how-will-we-pay-the-rent problem when one of his housemates breaks their third of the lease. If he wants to keep a roof over his head, he'll have to accept that Steven Kenton, a complete stranger, now shares that roof. Yes, the new housemate’s good for helping out with the bills but he also has the knack of putting Kit on edge with a few well-chosen words and lingering looks.

Kit’s is-he-flirting-with-me uncertainty doesn’t last long: on his first night there, Steven makes his intentions more than clear. He wants Kit, and he knows the feeling’s mutual. It’s in Kit’s nature to push away any man who shows an interest in him, especially when they live together, but he can only push so many times before Steven decides he’d be better off finding somewhere else to stay the night.

###

Purchase from Total-e-Bound here.

Also, the first published review is in already -- read what Mandi at Smexybooks said about Stay the Night here.

I make my own luck

2011-10-01T14:09:00.003+01:00

It's one of the subjects that comes up a lot in conversation between writers and I always allow myself to get sucked in to the debate.

I've been called lucky. On the face of it you might think that's a reasonable allegation. After all, I've had four books published, sold a further three and due to recent events it looks like I've been talked into writing #8 for a particular publisher. Lucky, right?

Wrong.

'Luck' suggests some kind of random alignment of the stars, which is complete bullshit. It negates all the work I put in to writing the books that earned me the attention of certain editors. These days I have editors approaching me rather than the other way round, but look at it this way -- I would not have earned their attention if I hadn't pushed through to writing 'The End' of Long Time Coming, Plus One and By the Book. That was the point of my career when I started coming to certain people's attention. After I'd already had three books published.

Putting my publication success down to luck is an insult to the time I put in writing my manuscripts and composing the submission packages (queries and synopses).

My books do not write themselves and publishers do not decide which books to publish with the use of a roulette wheel.

I've also been called lucky for being such a gifted writer. A compliment, again, you might think. I definitely do not take it that way. I wasn't sprinkled with fairy dust at birth. No giant celestial finger pointed from Heaven and bestowed upon me a perfect talent for creative writing. I wasn't born writing the way I do. I bloody well worked for it. Any talent I have is not a gift -- it's a damn reward.

It's also been suggested to me that I'm lucky to be writing erotic romance at a time when it's popular.

Um...no. I choose to write erotic romance (although not for much longer, I grant you). There is no luck involved here -- it's my choice. Free will.

Oh, I'm so lucky to have editors approaching me, aren't I? It's got nothing to do with the fact my work is out there, available to all. Nothing to do with people wanting me to write more of X, Y or Z based on my track record.

You know, it's funny. The harder I work, the luckier I get. The more work I put in, the better my writing gets and the more people notice me and, I'm glad, tell me they like what I do.

Was it chance that my first manuscript landed in the inbox of an editor who offered a publication contract? Did I merely catch her on a good day? Good God no; I caught her with a good book. Luck had nothing to do with it.

I wasn't lucky. I was ready.

Things I learned this week

2011-09-25T19:14:00.000+01:00

Either from experience or observation and sometimes on more than one occasion:

Pickled onion Space Raiders give me heartburn if I eat several packets at once. Which I never do. Much. Except for that one time I did.
People who ask "How are you?" never want any answer other than "Fine."
People who say they're your friend, aren't. If they were, they wouldn't be saying; they'd be doing. Same goes for people who say they want to be your friend. Stop saying, get doing.
James McAvoy could apparently take a shark in a fight because he has frickin' laser beams. IN HIS EYES. So sayeth Liz Silver.
One way guaranteed to make your intercom or door go is to put your head down for a nap. Actually, make that two ways -- slipping into a lovely, hot bath seems to work, too.
In the main, people are bastard-coated bastards with bastard filling.
The Tolkien Mafia will spit the dummy if you dare show disrespect to their Holy Book of Pernicious Goblinshite.
It's rarely a good idea to listen to what people say. Ignore that; look at what they do. Or fail to do.
Friendships are like teabags. Just add milk and-- No, wait. You never know how strong they are until they're in hot water.
James Purefoy is the hottest man alive, forever and ever, Amen. No comebacks, no returns, end of story, shut up.

"See? Told you. I'm the hottest man alive."

Flaming WHAT?

2011-09-22T22:44:00.000+01:00

Another blogisode so soon after the last one? Yeah, I'm on fire!

This is an extract from the book I'm reading at the moment. When I got to this paragraph, I snorted with laughter. You'll soon see why.

It's from James Joyce's Ulysses:

Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk towards Stephen in the shell of his hands.

James, James, James. You utter pervert.

Dracula has risen from the grave

2011-09-21T15:53:00.000+01:00

Or at least, Scarlett has blogged again. Yes, folks -- I am still alive. Did you miss me?

Not doing too well on the 'blogging more regularly' front, am I? Well, here's a brief catch-up:

The book I recently sold, Dark-Adapted Eyes, will be released on the 30th of April next year by Total-e-Bound. The contract's signed, but I haven't yet received my countersigned copy so maybe I'm jumping the gun a little in saying that, but it should be okay. Fingers crossed!

Healthwise, things haven't been too great. I'm knocking on a bit now, so it's obvious that these things will happen. ;) Okay, okay, I 'fess up. I put my back out. At the age of thirty-five! I'm only just getting back to normal, and by 'normal' I mean 'able to walk upright again'. Add a migraine to the mix and I haven't had a wonderful time of it lately...

Currently working on editing Temporary Position, which comes out on Hallowe'en. (Sounds so much better than saying merely the 31st of October, no?)

I've been tinkering with the idea of retiring from erotic romance at the end of the year, but that's probably a whole other blogisode of its own. I'm finding myself drawn to another genre and resisting certain restrictions which are typical of the erotic romance genre. I'm not a great fan of happy-ever-after endings; I much prefer happy-for-now, but it seems readers of erom prefer much more...shall we say...defined...endings, whereas my natural inclination is towards the ambiguous. Why? Real life isn't pat, contrived, or perfect. Okay, romance readers want the fantasy. I get that. But when your suspension of disbelief is put under great strain, well...

Maybe it's just me. But it's a matter I'll give more thought, and will definitely blog about at a later date.

Now what? I have a book to finish tinkering with and send back to my editor, so I'll get on with that. Meanwhile, let Jonathan entertain you.

Jonathan + Rhys + Meyers = OM NOM NOM.

In defence of ebooks

2011-08-31T12:36:00.000+01:00

So much for me blogging more often, eh? Well without going into too much detail, I've had Real Life Shit to deal with and yes, I capitalised those three words to emphasise how ver', ver' srs I are.

But I'm back for the first time in three weeks, in defence of ebooks. You wouldn't think I'd have to defend them again, owing to the fact I've sold seven of the buggers (of which more anon) but apparently so.

Just recently I've become hyperaware of the attitude that ebooks somehow aren't 'real'. They don't compare to paper and ink books that you can flick through, smell and touch. They don't have heft. You can't see the cover of whatever someone's reading if they're using an ereader. (Of course, if you want to see someone reading your book, you'd have to actually write something worth reading, but hey-ho...)

Does that make ebooks somehow 'not real'? Well, the number of people who work in the industry would say that's not the case. Writers, editors, publishers, cover artists, accountants -- are they working in the name of something that's somehow false?

I've noticed that the loudest protests come from so-called 'aspiring' writers. You know; the ones who hardly ever finish anything, and when they do it's utter crap, which explains why they're not published. They bitch about ereaders and ebooks to mask their own lack of publication credits and, dare I add, their own lack of bankable royalties cheques. These ones spend longer articulating why they're taking the high road of an agent-search for traditional publishing, than they do actually writing anything worth a damn.

So let's straighten out a few matters here, eh?

One: Ebook publishing is not 'easy'. If it were, I wouldn't have racked up any rejections on the way to publication. Admittedly I've only had eight knockbacks compared to seven acceptances, but still...that near 50/50 split shows you can't just bang something out and assume it'll be published. Or maybe I'm just a damn good writer.

As an addendum to the above point, I would ask you this, if you think it's 'easy' to get an ebook published: why haven't you done it?

Two: E-publishing and self-publishing are not the same thing. If you conflate the two in your tiny little mind, you are a dumb fuck, and yes, I would say that to your ugly little face.

To make it absolutely clear: I have never paid a penny to have my books published. Not a ha'penny, not a farthing, not a groat, a red cent, nor a bottle cap. Nada.

Three: E-publishing does not mean you will never hold a print copy of your book in your hands. Two of mine are available in print, and a further three will be so at later dates. As for the other two? Their print viability depends on sales and publicity and the decision made by the higher-ups at that particular publisher.

So, in conclusion I would say this: if you want to use your blog to sneer about ebooks, fine. I'll mop my tears on the royalties cheques I bank each month. I'll snigger at your ignorance from behind the print copies of my novels.

And I won't hold my breath for you to ever bag that agent you're determined will make you more of a writer.

No, dear. Only one thing makes you a writer: writing.

You ought to try it sometime.

n.b. And yes, I did say I'd sold seven manuscripts. Have a peek at the 'coming soon' page on this blog for more details. Shape shifter filth FTW!

Size is important

2011-08-10T18:21:00.000+01:00

I thought it was about time I started blogging properly again as opposed to just keeping this site for notification of when I sell manuscripts, or have new cover art pretties. You know, a vague attempt to be professional and all that. But then, I guess thinking people would be interested in anything I have to say on my blog is a separate kind of arrogance in itself.

One conversation that's come up recently in writing circles is that of size. Fnarr. Referencing my most recent sale, that of Temporary Position, I've gone from writing and selling five novels, to writing and selling a 16k short story.

Go read that again.

A 16k short story. Not a novella; certainly not a novel. Short. Story.

A while back I heard from a writer who was (rightly) excited about selling her first book, or as she had it, her first "novel". Turns out the word count was somewhere in the 40k region.

I've heard of other writers selling books of around about 20k words and claiming to be novelists.

Um...no. Just no.

Let's get one thing straight here: to be a novelist, you have to actually write a novel.

I'll be very clear: I am in no way dissing short stories (I've sold one) or novellas (love reading them; have a few outlined to write myself). What I am saying is this:

As writers, we work with words all day, every day. We search for the word, the phrase, the sentence, that cuts through all the bullshit and nails this, that or the next feeling, so the reader goes, "Yes! That! I know what she means!"

Should it not, then, be the case that we strive for accuracy when describing our own work? Why this aversion to calling things by their proper names?

And let's face it: if you sell a 20k book and say you've sold a novel, you're claiming to have done more work than you really have. That's just plain old dishonest. No matter how fast or slow you write, a 60-80k story will take you much longer to write than something one third or one quarter of that size. You're claiming to have done three or four times more work than you actually have. And that's an insult to real, you know...novelists.

That'd be like me selling a 75k-word book and telling people I've written an opera. Or writing a sonnet and telling people it's a ballet. No, no, no, no, no. Call things by their proper names.

Besides which, if I buy an ebook expecting to get a novel, and what I receive is actually a short story or novella, I'll be pretty pissed off as a reader and writer. Of course, price usually reflects book length before you even buy, but even so...it really rips my nips when people claim to have written a novel and they plain old haven't.

Does this make me a snob? No. It makes me a writer who, amazingly, wishes people would use the correct names for things.

Cover art: TEMPORARY POSITION

2011-08-04T00:04:00.000+01:00

I received this yesterday, but didn't want to blog about it and bump the announcement of A Little Death's availability down the page on release day.

So here it is, the cover art for Temporary Position, tentatively scheduled for release at the end of October. It's my shortest work yet, only 16k words, so a short story by my standards, not even a novella. Still, it's filthy.

It's what's known as a collection cover, the only difference being the individual titles and author's name. In cases where the story isn't a menage, the guy in the background disappears. With Temporary Position, he's there, so you know this involves M/F/M filth.

Specifically, a spitroast, nipple clamps and much filthy talk in Swedish.

Here's the blurb:

TEMPORARY POSITION
M/F/M contemporary menage

Jess Ludlow thought she was agreeing to work on the shop floor, not all fours.

Jess Ludlow’s spent three months trying to pretend she didn’t kiss two work colleagues after a staff dinner. They might not all work in the same department store but they’re employees of the same parent company and these things have a habit of refusing to be forgotten. The biggest problem is deciding what she regrets more – kissing Tyler and Sebastian at all, or walking away.

Both men have a vacancy only Jess can fill. A staffing dilemma gives them the perfect excuse to draft her in, and a brief window of opportunity to convince her they have unfinished business. Tyler can sweet-talk her in English, Sebastian’s fluent in Swedish, so between them (which is where Jess belongs), they’re ready to pull out all the stops.

And the nipple-clamps.

A LITTLE DEATH now available

2011-08-02T05:47:00.000+01:00

From where? Right here.

###

Seeing dead people is all very well...unless one of them wants to kill you.

To Mallory Sharpe, vampires are a fact of life. They exist, walk the streets, and for the most part mind their own business. As a second-year university student, she doesn’t pay the undead much attention until she meets Jonathan Cutler. He has needs, and blood is only one. The other, Mallory is more than willing to help him with. After all, he has but one rule: to never spend more than one night with a woman. He won’t get attached, or consciously put anyone’s life in danger.

Another vampire, Cian Ambrose, isn’t so troubled by conscience. Mallory’s fair game, a weapon to taunt Jonathan with. In fact, it might be fun to make her his grail, or living blood donor, and Cian Ambrose doesn’t take kindly to the word no. He hasn’t heard it often in his one hundred and fifty years and it usually results in the other person ending up dead.

So with Mallory’s tolerance for undead guys running very low, Jonathan has to re-gain her trust, stop Cian killing her, oh...and for God’s sake, not fall in love.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content and graphic language.

More Stay the Night smexiness

2011-07-27T15:07:00.000+01:00

At the start of this week I received the banner pack for Stay the Night. Only just getting around to whoring it now because I've been exceptionally busy but here it is, my banner, bookmark and postcard. Click on the pics to embiggen them.

I love how the banner focuses on Kit's waistband.

Think I'll have some of these printed out as a giveaway for when Stay the Night is released as a paperback.

If that postcard doesn't make you drool, you are probably dead and should stop reading my blog.

Guest author: Lucy Felthouse

2011-07-18T12:00:00.023+01:00

Who You Callin' A Fang Banger?

As a fan of most things vampire related, naturally I watch True Blood (as well as having read the books). An episode I recently watched (I'll be as un-spoilery as possible for those of you that haven't seen it yet) dealt with one of the human characters being shouted at and called names, i.e. "fang banger" for being with a vampire. The human's response was excellent – basically saying that regardless of whether their partner was a vampire or not, they were still a person with thoughts and feelings and they loved them regardless. They didn't care what anyone thought.

Despite the fact that vampires are fictional (...or are they?), there are definitely parallels to be drawn with that level of bigotry in life. For example, the 'haters' in True Blood dislike the vampires and think they're unnatural, disgusting, etc, etc. Some small minded people unfortunately think similar things about gay, lesbian, bi and trans people in real life. I'm not going to go on about how poor that is because each person is entitled to their own opinion.

What I am going to talk about is what a bitch I've unwittingly been to some of my characters. If vampires (and indeed, my story) were real, then Meg and Grace from BITE WITH HEIGHT would surely despise me. You see, Meg's a vampire AND a lesbian and without giving too much away, she and Grace get it together. So they'd be in major trouble if they were real, subject to name calling such as 'lezzer' and Grace a 'fang banger.' Oops.

But I don't feel too bad, really. For one, they're not real. And secondly, if they were, I'm pretty sure they'd take it with a pinch of salt just like the characters in True Blood. Both girls are real kick-ass chicks who won't take shit from anyone. And of course, with Meg's background, they'd be wise not to piss her off...

...and if you want to know what I'm talking about, you'll have to read the story, won't you?

*****

When Meg spots a young woman alone in the Pigalle district of Paris at night, she’s intrigued. She has to know her story and find out why she looks so sad and alone. After introducing herself, Meg realizes that she and Grace have a lot in common. But when they decide to go and grab a drink together, they discover a mutual love that could bond them forever.

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Noble Romance
Nook

*****

During Lucy’s first year studying Creative Writing at the University of Derby, she was dared to write an erotic story. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing and Xcite Books. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk/. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Cover art: STAY THE NIGHT

2011-07-07T21:47:00.000+01:00

STAY THE NIGHT
M/M contemporary erotic romance

Kit Blackman's anti-social facade cracks when a new co-tenant moves into his house – and bed – but unless he lets Steven in where it matters, Kit will end up sleeping alone. Permanently.

Kit Blackman is anti-social, insular and bad-tempered...and those are his good points. As well as an attitude problem, he's also got a how-will-we-pay-the-rent problem when one of his housemates breaks their third of the lease. If he wants to keep a roof over his head, he'll have to accept that Steven Kenton, a complete stranger, now shares that roof. Yes, the new housemate’s good for helping out with the bills but he also has the knack of putting Kit on edge with a few well-chosen words and lingering looks.

Kit’s is-he-flirting-with-me uncertainty doesn’t last long: on his first night there, Steven makes his intentions more than clear. He wants Kit, and he knows the feeling’s mutual. It’s in Kit’s nature to push away any man who shows an interest in him, especially when they live together, but he can only push so many times before Steven decides he’d be better off finding somewhere else to stay the night.

###

Available October 17th from Total-e-Bound.

Cover art: A LITTLE DEATH

2011-07-03T09:33:00.002+01:00

Cover art by April Martinez

A LITTLE DEATH
M/F paranormal erotic romance

Seeing dead people is all very well...unless one of them wants to kill you.

To Mallory Sharpe, vampires are a fact of life. They exist, walk the streets and for the most part mind their own business. As a second-year university student, she doesn't pay the undead much attention until she meets Jonathan Cutler. He has needs, and blood is only one. The other, Mallory is more than willing to help him with. After all, he has but one rule, to never spend more than one night with a woman. He won't get attached, or consciously put anyone's life in danger.

Another vampire, Cian Ambrose, isn't so troubled by conscience. Mallory's fair game, a weapon to taunt Jonathan with. In fact, it might be fun to make her his grail, or living blood donor, and Cian Ambrose doesn't take kindly to the word no. He hasn't heard it often in his one hundred and fifty years and it usually results in the other person ending up dead.

So with Mallory's tolerance for undead guys running very low, Jonathan has to re-gain her trust, stop Cian killing her, oh...and for God's sake, not fall in love.

###

Available August 2nd from Loose Id.

Back to work

2011-06-20T12:36:00.000+01:00

I've set myself a ridiculously ridiculous target for finishing Family Jewels. It's taken me a year to write 37k words of this work-in-progress, which needs around about the same number of words again to reach 'the end' according to MS Excel.

I've decided I'm going to finish it in a week.

Of course, when I say it's taken me a year to write that much, I mean I started the book a year ago. The work was spread over but twenty-three days, the last time I worked on it being last December, so it would be closer to the truth to say "37k written in twenty-three days spread over six months."

There's a chance I could bring it in around the 65-70k mark. A few of the scenes I've listed in the outline might not be entirely necessary, or at least could be incorporated into other chapters in a shortened form. I've read over what I have so far, and I like it. I like it a lot. I've just had the weekend to myself to dick around with other projects (of which more anon) and read and loaf about the place, but now it's Monday, and it's time to get back to work.

Wish me luck.

Anyone for a threesome?

2011-06-18T01:53:00.000+01:00

More good news; another sale this week. I subbed Temporary Position on Tuesday and sold it on Friday (I know, three whole days, I'm really slowing down lately) and it'll be published near the end of October. It's a short novella...I guess a short story, strictly speaking. Just over 16k words, and it's about a M/F/M menage. I do love me some threesomes.

This from chapter one:

And the end of that half-hour commute would bring my first meeting with Tyler Johnson and Sebastian Dickson in three months.

Maybe this time I’d be able to act like the professional I claimed to be instead of sticking my tongue down both their throats.

Disgusting, n'est ce pas? I know; I'm normally so demure, too!

So what am I working on right now? The BDSM novel I started a whole fucking year ago. I kept putting it down to edit other books and prep them for publication, then picking it up again to nickel-and-dime a few more pages out. Then I got caught up with Stay the Night and...well...kinda sorta totally lost the thread of the story.

But I read over the 37k I have of it so far this week, and I'm happy with it. It's got potential, and it's not trunked. Definitely not. I was always going to finish this; it's just a fact that I've allowed myself to be distracted by other projects.

Just like I have a M/M idea nagging the hell out of me right now, but I must...finish with...Devon Scott...*puff* *wheeze*.

He'll be so displeased if I lay him aside again.

Dirty books, aching heads and James Purefoy

2011-06-12T01:13:00.000+01:00

This is going to be one of those random "I haven't blogged properly in a while so here are some random thoughts," blogisodes, folks.
First up! The edits for A Little Death have been dealt with; well, this round anyway. I think the book goes off to the line editors next. Some strange, powerful and mysterious being will be giving Jonathan Cutler the once-over as we speak, I expect. No cover art for that or Stay the Night yet, but as soon as they appear and I'm given the okay, I'll spooge them all over this blog.

I've been working on a short novella for a few weeks now, Temporary Position, but don't take that as gospel. It may well change, and it's not a title I'm overly attached to. It was a mere working title that stuck. Anyhoo, it's a menage story and I hope it comes in at around about 15k words, but you know me and my nasty habit of writing long. Hell, StN came in at 52k as I recall and I started out aiming at less than half that.

There have been two causes of delays in my new-words output lately - deadlines on edits, which are part of the staple diet of any writer - and migraines, which bloody well should not be, but for me...they're something I've lived with for decades now. I lose approximately three days and my stomach lining at a time, and with two in the past fortnight, that means I'm missing a huge chunk of June so far. In fact it still feels like May to me.

Hopefully a trip to the G.P, a course of medication and a course of action that fucking works this time, will give me my life back. But I wouldn't count on it, knowing the N.H.S.

*whinge*

Right, where was I? Oh yes. This week's been chock-full of Purefoy. I watched every episode of Injustice this week, and Camelot this evening (King Lot died in episode two of the double-bill so there's no point watching any more of it). Naturally I've pre-ordered Injustice on DVD (released on Monday) and not just because of the presence of the Hottest Man in the Entire Universe, Fact (tm). It was intricately plotted, exquisitely scripted and very well-acted. Kudos to Anthony Horowitz.

The presence of Purefoy, as with any situation, helped. Natch.

Speaking of whom:

"Scarlett? You're going down."

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a menage smutvella to finish, my own fucking traitorous head permitting.

Happy birthday, James

2011-06-03T18:42:00.000+01:00

The hottest man alive is forty-seven years old today and I'd give him something very special for each one of those years, believe you me.

Express yourself...rapturously

2011-05-21T19:26:00.000+01:00

The rapture's supposed to happen today; did you know? Yep, it's time to make fun of all the religious folks who have beliefs which differ from yours. Come on, let's take to Twitter and Blogger to mock them. Later, when the rapture fails to occur we can point and laugh.

Or maybe not.

For the past few days I've seen a lot of rapture talk with some lighthearted banter accompanying it. I don't have a problem with that. What I do have a problem with is cruelty and ridicule.

For the record, I believe in God but I don't believe in the rapture, so I have no dog in this fight. I'm just more than a little confused as to why Christians who wait for the rapture to come are fair game, but a certain other group of people are off limits. Which group? Other authors.

I've recently been involved in more than one discussion online about whether or not it's good form to express one's opinion about any given book, genre or trope online. "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all," has been uttered (or typed) more than once, and a more irritating phrase I cannot imagine, unless it's "Let's listen to Mariah Carey's entire back catalogue until our ears bleed."

A fellow writer whom I won't name for reasons of her privacy (See? I can be discreet!) had this to say:

If people want to be rude I have no problem with that. Much better than carefully stage-managed little pronouncements.

I'm not advocating deliberate rudeness. What I am saying is, it seems to me that these days an awful lot of writers hold back from expressing their opinion for fear of...well, I'm not entirely sure? "Oh no; some people I've never met might decide they disagree with me?" Wow. That's...tragic. Imagine that. Fellow human beings having a different opinion, which they should never have expressed in public, according to some.

Me? I think if you say "I don't like such-and-such in erotic romance," (or whatever genre) it makes you look like not-a-clone. Someone who's willing to express his or her own opinion. Someone who, God damn it, has one. Because there are far too many people who are in danger of becoming anodyne sheeple due to their reticence. Dare I mention the word "Stepford"? Why yes, I do. Come on; you're hardly going to be ostracised by the entire writing community if you say "I don't like books where nipples pebble or pussies gush, soak, drench or cream." (Trust me, I've read all of the above in published work).

You're allowed to not like particular books. Honest! But, as I've said before, I'm not condoning rudeness. It's not a choice between "Rude," and "Shut the hell up." It's perfectly possible to express likes and dislikes without causing offence, or should I say without deliberately causing offence. And that's the key. You'll piss someone off no matter what you say...which is why, I believe, so many writers are afraid to say anything.

Lord knows why. My Tweetstream's about as classy as a drunk lapdancer snorting coke off a monkey's nutsack, and my follower count keeps climbing. I've had people contact me to say they've decided to read my books in the hopes that they will contain the same sarcastic-but-not-cruel-just-funny sense of humour I display online. I've lost count of the amount of people who have said to me, "I wish I had the balls to say what you say," and I don't even think I'm being that outlandish online! So, y'know...for every person your perfectly legitimate opinion drives away, two or three more will be amused or intrigued.

Some people have actually got work because of their willingness to be themselves online rather than obsessing about their apparent, deliberately-constructed internet personalities. I know I certainly have. It hasn't put people off from wanting to work with me, nor actively seeking me out to make that happen.

If I'm reading a book - and most of my reading material these days is erotic romance, though not always - and it makes me laugh, I'll probably tweet about it. "WTF is this? Twitching cocks and pulsing pussies?" I'm pointing out crap writing without mentioning the author or the book so as not to embarrass them publicly, or make myself look like an unprofessional bitch. If readers take it on, they'll maybe become a bit more discerning. It's not bitching; it's good-natured ribbing. Honesty. Expressing my opinion.

No, I don't have to.

Do you have to follow my tweets or my blog?

On the odd occasion I have actually named names, I'll admit, but I hardly think Charlotte Bronte's going to rise from the grave and zombie bitchslap me for saying I'd happily burn every copy of Jane Eyre in existence. I feel confident that John Boyne cares not a jot that The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas made me want to spork my own eyes out.

I'd rather express my dislikes because it makes my likes more sincere when I do mention them. Make no mistake, when I like a book, I tweet and blog about that too. It's not one-sided. Just the other day I tweeted, nay, raved about Ash Penn's Passing Time, which I read in one sitting and want to push onto every other reader who rates my opinion on this sort of matter. (Honestly. Please read it. Do. The ending was sublime.)

I trust people who are willing to say so-called 'negative' things because it gives their compliments more weight when they do arrive. If someone only ever says "I like this book...I like this book...I like this book..." and they eventually turn their attention to mine, I wonder, "Really? Do you really like my book or are you just scared to do anything other than toe the party line?"

No-one's gonna die if you don't like one of my novels, really. I mean, you might when I break into your house in the middle of the night with a baseball bat and a chainsaw, but hey, you deserve it for being a mean girl.

Of course, there will always be those who advise, "Don't say negative things on Twitter. It makes you look bad," but a thought occurred to me this afternoon. Such people usually make a big deal of keeping their bitching and whining for private discussions with friends and family alone. On the surface you might think that's controlled, disciplined and professional.

Me? I think it's hypocritical.

As I tweeted earlier: It would be far more noble (and difficult) to cease bitching at all rather than doing it behind closed doors, telling yourself that's okay. Only then would you be able to say you're truly 'not saying anything at all' if you can't think of anything nice to say.

I could list people; some authors, some not, who absolutely excoriate other people behind their backs then act like their best friends online. Okay, I'm rather taking my argument to extremes there, but I honestly see nothing worth emulating in this behaviour. There's no integrity in keeping your bitching for private conversation if it goes that far, if it's so two-faced.

Luckily such people are relatively rare in the publishing industry and word gets out about their behaviour eventually, but even so...kinda makes my skin crawl, y'know? Makes me wonder why publicly saying "I didn't like it when Author X wrote such-and-such," is not the done thing but deeply, deeply insulting people behind their backs is practised by some alleged 'professionals'.

My advice? Ignore the saying, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." That bleaches all the life out of your online presence. Nope, definitely don't set out to be rude. But don't fear expressing your opinion. You're allowed to not like any book you spend time and money on. Even mine. Ask yourself, "Would I say this to the author's face?" If you would, cool. If not, maybe your conscience is pricking you. Perhaps you should listen. It's entirely up to you.

And let me just say at this point, it's pretty dangerous to ask me, "Would you say that to so-and-so's face?" because chances are...yeah, I would. *grins*

And for the love of God, don't think whispering behind your hand or laughing up your sleeve about a book/author makes you somehow more noble. It doesn't. It makes you a hypocrite, and you will be found out. There are authors out there who have unwittingly blacklisted themselves at particular publishers or with certain higher-ups because of such behaviour. It's up to them to deal with the consequences meted out on their career.

So while I will no doubt offend some people with this blog post, I'm prepared for that. So far, it doesn't seem to have done my career much harm. Some folks disagree with my manner of presentation and others admire it. That's cool. There's room for everyone's opinion. Even if they're different.

Especially so.

Oh, and one more thing: it's okay to not believe in the rapture. But taking the piss out of those who do while saying "Mocking authors is bad?" That kinda makes your professional hat fall off. Mmmkay?

Behold my openings!

2011-05-15T17:56:00.000+01:00

Snerk.

Just for fun, here are the openings of my three published novels, two further sold works and my current project. Do they work for you? Are you hooked? If not, why?

Long Time Coming

The empty bedroom inspired nothing but relief when I peeked around the door. While I’d showered, Andrew Kincaid had left the building, possible confrontation too much for him.

A floorboard in the living room creaked, the television sparked to life and my heart sank. No such luck.

Plus One

Pink hair is an attention-grabber and there are certainly times when hair made of snakes and set on fire would be slightly less conspicuous.

And more appropriate.

Like job interviews for example.

By the Book

Cradling the receiver, I groaned. Another meaningless phone call from another staff member in another department calling the wrong desk about a problem I couldn’t help them with.

Someone cleared his throat on the other side of the counter. “Excuse me?”

Throwing “Just leave your books there and I’ll see to them,” his way, my breath caught for an instant as I looked up. For a moment I believed I’d been accosted by a diabolical visitation rather than a patron.

(Third-party sites' purchase links are also available on my 'Books by Scarlett Parrish' page, above).

A Little Death, due out this August:

Three things I learned from fucking a vampire: They don’t perspire.

They never come.

And it’s the closest thing to death I’ll ever experience.

Stay the Night, likely published in October but don't quote me:

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I was the only one standing and the only one with the balls not to come out with some congratulatory bullshit about how happy I was for the guy who was leaving us all in the lurch just because his girlfriend had a goldmine in her pants.

Burn, my current work-in-progress:

I had a list of goals, but for tonight, only one rule: no names.

And that's your lot. What do you think?

Why I sometimes want to set Twitter ON. FIRE.

2011-05-13T18:50:00.001+01:00

I've had a Twitter account for just over a year now and have been using it more in the past few months than I ever have before. Mainly because I've had more books published and it's an easy way to ~~whore my novels~~ interact with readers and other authors.

There are a few folk I chat with on a daily basis, whether it be about our latest works-in-progress or exactly what we'd like to see Jared Padalecki do to Bradley Cooper (God bless the internet!) and though it's a good place to exchange interesting links, photos and jokes, Twitter does have its faults.

You've got the Fail Whale which crops up rather more often than you'd like, but there are other niggly things that really boil my piss. Chief among these irritants is the habit of flooding my bloody tweetstream.

Please, for the love of all that is holy, give it a fucking rest. It happens three times a week and I don't want to have to trawl through twenty, thirty, forty tweets just to get something that isn't a bunch of pink 'n' perky recommendations of who's teh c00l3st!!!!111!!!one!!eleventy!1!

I'm not just speaking for myself here, but on behalf of a number of Twitterers (Tweeters?) of whatever stripe who are a tad more self-controlled than I as regards the matter, but it must be said:

We don't give a flying fuck about Mention Monday, Writer Wednesday or Follow Friday. We do not need a thrice-weekly listing of every fucking person you follow.

Seriously. If I want to know who you follow, there's an easy way to access that information. I click on your profile and from thence, to the list of people you're following.

Think about it. You're not the only person on my follow list doing this. Even one or two people listing fifty followers means in a matter of seconds, my laptop screen is flooded with pink URLs to people I don't care about because if I did I would already be following them.

Not only that but you then have to put up with the interminable "Thanks for the #FF!" tweets. Okay, people, someone recommended you on Twitter, you're grateful, but let's not assume you're anything special. The fact you're one name on a list of a couple of hundred scrolling across the screen three times a week proves that. I'd be more inclined to think you were a standout tweeter if you did stand out, but Mention Monday, Writer Wednesday and Follow Friday have become mindless laundry lists, rendered meaningless by repetition and volume.

I follow people based on liking their books, exchanging a few @-replies, searching them out myself. I like to think the people who follow me do so because they've interacted with me somehow, read my books, laugh at my tweets, know me a little, perhaps - dare I say it? - like me. Not because they mindlessly hit 'follow' because they're one of the sheeple.

Your flooding my tweetstream with name after name after name doesn't make me any more likely to follow them.

It does, however, make me more likely to unfollow you.

Blimey, that was quick!

2011-05-07T20:50:00.000+01:00

What a week this has been. Finished the first draft of Stay the Night on Tuesday, subbed it on Thursday, sold it on Saturday! I'm not sure how many times in an author's career they'd sell a book within forty-eight hours of emailing it off but even if this is the one and only time it happens, I'll take it.

I don't know when the book will be released but I'm guessing somewhere in the next six months. Don't take my word for it; I'll post more details here when I get them.

Maybe that was my reward for slogging over the same book for three months. Here's hoping the next book won't take as long to write, no matter how long it is.

Oh, speaking of length, not that size is important...*cough*...I may have said that Stay the Night would be a novella? Well, er, it's a wee bit longer than expected. The submission copy was 52,000 words long, so yep, I definitely write looooong.

Never mind. It just makes for more filth. And who can argue with that?

Jared sure wouldn't.

A happy ending

2011-05-04T00:26:00.001+01:00

Happy ending. Snerk.

May the fourth be with you!

Right, now I've got that over and done with...yes, yes, you can stop groaning now; please don't throw any rotten tomatoes or if you must, at least take them out of the tin...anyway, where was I?

Oh yes. Tonight (technically yesterday) I finished the first draft of Stay the Night. 52,873 words in total which isn't bad considering it was only supposed to be a chuffing novella. First 'new' material I've completed in probably a year or thereabouts. Since then I've edited and revised and reworked other books, got halfway through a BDSM/kink novel and dealt with contracts and publication gubbins.

No excuses; the lack of routine and, dare I say it, laziness, was entirely my fault. However, typing 'The End' on a manuscript I began in mid-February means I've turned a corner. Yes, three months for a novel of this length is an absolute age for me, but I got there in the end. And would you believe it, my final day working on the first draft of this book was my most productive. Well over 5,000 words on Tuesday alone.

Been bloody ages since I blogged as well, but would "I've been writing filthy, dirty manlove," count as a valid excuse? Ah, why not? I bet James would go along with that.

"Why yes, I am the hottest man in the universe. Bow down and perform an act of worship. And by that I mean blow me."

Win a signed (or singed) print copy of Long Time Coming

2011-04-15T15:30:00.001+01:00

Two years ago today I typed 'the end' on my first draft of Long Time Coming. It had taken me five and a half months to write 148k words (yes, really) and I marked the occasion by bursting into tears.

(Don't worry; the published copy is a much-more-respectable and easier-on-the-eye 85k words in total).

From there, it took just over a year to be published because instead of editing and subbing it right away, I worked on other first drafts and laid LTC aside.

Now, however, it's available from Carnal Passions in print and ebook format.

And if you're interested in finding out exactly why I burst into tears when I finished the first draft, Fiction Vixen herself picked up on the reason with this little section of her review:

There is an emotional build-up to the ending and I loved that. The final line in the book is like a long awaited emotional release where you can finally let out the breath you didn’t know you holding.

I'm really pleased if the reader picks up on that, because it's exactly how I felt when five and a half months' work came to a close, and, I'll freely admit, I was a little bit sad too.

The rest of the review appears here, and to mark my two-year Leo-versary, Fiction Vixen is giving those who leave a comment the chance to win a signed (or singed) print copy of Long Time Coming.

What are you waiting for? Go leave a comment, you dorty feckers!

Excerpt from TALK TO ME by Cassandra Carr

2011-03-29T15:58:00.000+01:00

Radio producer Jamie MacMahon is in over her head with ex-hockey player-turned host Drew Milan. She’s attracted to the man who earned the nickname “the Beast” during his playing days from the moment they meet, but he’s her boss and she loves her new job. She’s made plenty of mistakes with men and loathes the thought of being yet another plaything for Drew, a man who sleeps with women but doesn’t date them.

Drew doesn’t want to lose a great producer and knows Jamie deserves a real relationship, but can’t stay away from the sizzling chemistry they create every time they’re together. Jamie’s insecurities and the very real prospect of having to leave a great job if this thing doesn’t work out clash hard with Drew’s fears about opening his heart and the possibility of losing his first competent producer. Nothing's going to get resolved if one of them won't say it: "Come on, baby, talk to me."

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: D/s elements, fetish, spanking, strong language ("dirty" talk).

***

By the time the show ended and Jamie thought about how long it would take her to shut everything down for the night, then hustle herself off to the subway station and take the three different trains to get to her apartment all the way out in Brooklyn, she was truly afraid she would self-combust.

Drew ran out of the place like a bomb scare had been called in, so at least she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Nonetheless, Jamie waited a good ten minutes past when she was finished with her nightly duties, then made her way back to the small production room where she and Drew had recorded his promo earlier. She knew a copy of it would still be stored on the computer in the room, and after scooting in and shutting the door, she booted it up. She told herself she needed to check it one more time before giving it to the station manager tomorrow, but who was she kidding? She needed to hear him but in a safe environment. Where she couldn’t do anything stupid. She needed his voice to weave inside her, through her, like a drug.

The rough yet strangely melodic sounds of Drew’s voice drifted over Jamie as she leaned back in her chair. Closing her eyes, she pictured his face in her mind -- his to-die-for lips traveling down the length of her body, just as her hand was doing at the moment; his navy blue eyes, focused only on her as he brought her to orgasm… She reached the button of her jeans and eased them open, propping her feet up on the desk.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this at work, but no one was around, and if she didn’t do something to assuage this ache, she was likely to jump him the next time she saw him. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Fantasizing about the man was one thing; straddling his powerful, muscular thighs in the studio chair and offering herself to him was another. That thought brought another rush of heat to her pussy, and she moaned. She needed serious help.

At first she just teased herself a little, rubbing outside her panties, but it soon became too much. She needed relief too badly to continue to torment herself. As Drew’s voice continued to assail her from all directions in the small, windowless room, she pushed her hand down inside the waistband of her panties and through her curls until she found the damp center of her sex. The sweet smell of her musk wafted up to tickle her nose, arousing her even more.

Twirling her fingers as much as the constricting position allowed her to, she imagined they were Drew’s tongue instead. She let out a plaintive moan as the picture caused her juices to flow even more, soaking her fingers. Plunging two of them into her pussy, she pressed her thumb on her clit, craving the direct stimulation. Jamie gasped as shock waves of pleasure shot from her pussy through her clit and up her spine, her back arching. And through it all, Drew’s voice urged her to new heights.

***

Talk to Me is available for purchase at Loose Id, LLC hyuh. Cassandra's website be here and you can stalk/follow her on Twitter hyuh.

Author interview: Cassandra Carr

2011-03-28T16:31:00.000+01:00

I'm always happy to have fellow filthketeers on this blog, and as Cassandra Carr's first release with Loose Id, Talk to Me, was published this week, what better reason to tie her down and probe her about the way her dirty mind works? Especially as she's one of my co-Dirty Birdies!

***

Radio producer Jamie MacMahon is in over her head with ex-hockey player-turned host Drew Milan. She’s attracted to the man who earned the nickname “the Beast” during his playing days from the moment they meet, but he’s her boss and she loves her new job. She’s made plenty of mistakes with men and loathes the thought of being yet another plaything for Drew, a man who sleeps with women but doesn’t date them.

Drew doesn’t want to lose a great producer and knows Jamie deserves a real relationship, but can’t stay away from the sizzling chemistry they create every time they’re together. Jamie’s insecurities and the very real prospect of having to leave a great job if this thing doesn’t work out clash hard with Drew’s fears about opening his heart and the possibility of losing his first competent producer. Nothing's going to get resolved if one of them won't say it: "Come on, baby, talk to me."

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: D/s elements, fetish, spanking, strong language ("dirty" talk).

***

What inspired Talk to Me? How did you go about writing it?
The idea that someone could be seduced by someone else's voice is what started it all. Then I started thinking about who might have a nice voice and a radio host seemed natural. I wrote much of it over a three-day writing retreat. I went to a beautiful bed and breakfast and sat outside in the sun writing furiously on my laptop. It was heaven.

Which piece of advice has had the greatest effect on your writing?
Publishing is a subjective business. If your writing is good but it still gets rejected, you just haven’t found the right person for your story.

Which is greater - the joy of acceptance or the pain of rejection?
For me it’s the joy of acceptance. I don’t think I take rejection as hard as some other writers, quite possibly because of the advice above. I get rejected and I may be blue for a day or two but then I pick myself up and keep writing.

What's your loftiest writing goal?
As far as my career overall? To be able to contribute to my daughter’s college fund.

Which writer do you most admire? Which would you most like to emulate?
Maya Banks. I’d love to emulate her career. She writes for a couple of different publishers and in a couple of different genres. She’s prolific and consistently good.

Recommend a book not your own. - Any genre, from any year, for any age group.
A Newberry Award winner in 1979 and one of my favorite books EVER – Ellen Raskin’s The Westing Game. Even an adult would like this book, though it’s aimed about the 10-14yo demographic.

What one thing would you like to go back and tell your eighteen-year-old self?
He isn’t worth it. (They rarely are.) Also, don’t work so hard. Have some fun now because you won’t have time, energy, or money for it later. ;-)

What do you most love and hate about the erotic romance genre?
I love how it has taken off and is becoming more and more popular. I hate that people think it’s pornography and don’t take you seriously if they find out what you write. I always want to say, “I wrote a freaking book. Doesn’t matter what genre it is. I wrote a freaking book and got it published. What have YOU done lately?”

***

Talk to Me is available for purchase at Loose Id, LLC hyuh. Cassandra's website be here and you can stalk/follow her on Twitter hyuh. Come back tomorrow for an eye-bleedingly filthy excerpt from Talk to Me. If you don't, well, there's no hope for you.

Battle scarred

2011-03-25T23:05:00.000Z

But the only reason I've got a sore wrist is I've been typing so much this week. Honest. It's all completely innocent.

So earlier this week I had a lot on; chores and errands to take care of, wasn't getting much sleep...and I thought about all those times late at night when I was relaxed, a little buzzed, and the writing would flow. I wouldn't be tired exactly, just mellow. So, I thought, what if I tried fooling my brain into thinking I was relaxed, rather than dog-tired? What if I tried writing anyway? I could at least get 500 words out before bedtime, right? Maybe even a thousand?

Let's just say on Monday, when I was more tired than I had been in a long time, I got way, way more than a thousand words done, an occurrence which has...well, occurred...on a number of occasions this week.

God knows what's wrong - right? - with me and I have no clue why this is happening now but it appears I have my mojo back. Probably the desperate state of having deadlines looming, knowing that if I don't get these damn manuscripts dealt with, my reputation as a mature, professional individual will be-- All right, all right, you can all stop laughing now.

So. What's coming up? All I can say about A Little Death is that manuscript tweakery and revisionising is happening as we speak. At a very, very rough guess, it'll be released around about late summer, but that could change, and I'll be sure to let you know if/when it does, or if I hear anything more specific than that.

According to MS Excel, Stay the Night has reached the glorious 50% mark, a goodly chunk of that having been written in the past week. It won't take as long again to get to 'the end' because my writing's speeding up these days. The second half will be written with much more ease than the first, methinks.

What's my secret? Well, Previously I've always written while online. I switch on either of my computers, and the WiFi kicks in automatically. As an experiment, however, and on my friend Tiffany Reisz's suggestion, I hit the WiFi off button and tried to write 1,000 words in an hour. Did I? Oh yes. Made it in 40.

It seems stupendously obvious that switching off the internet = moar wurdz get writ, but there you go. I'd assumed it would have no effect on me because I'd always written while online before, but...I was stalling, much slower...a difference in my mojo necessitated a difference in my writing methods to nudge it back to life, right? It was a lighthearted experiment that showed great results, so it looks like I'm one of those writers who needs to get offline to get any work done these days. Because I type fast, I know I'll be able to check my emails or tweet a few times within 45 minutes or so, but that's what works for me. Yes, I could easily hit the WiFi button again, but that would be cheating - no-one else would ever know, but I would.

And when I see the numbers ticking over on my Stay the Night spreadsheet, well...I don't want to do anything to piss the muse off again.

James agrees.

Celebrate Saint Patrick's Day in style

2011-03-17T21:37:00.000Z

Fuck an Irishman.

Aidan Turner

Colin Farrell

Jonathan Rhys Meyers

Or three.

Allow myself to introduce...the Dirty Birdies

2011-03-16T22:37:00.001Z

Woot! That's another chapter of Stay the Night down. Those boys, they don't half enjoy taking their time. Or maybe it's me, still working to crawl out of this go-slow that's been affecting me for months. Still, paperwork involving the upcoming release of my vampire novel, A Little Death, has shoved its fangs into my neck. I received the countersigned copy of the contract this week, so it's officially a Loose Id, LLC book, and now I have the cover art and blurb forms to deal with. Always a fun part of the process. It'll be months before the cover art even exists, but in between times I'll have edits with which to occupy myself, and writing and selling other books.

Now. What do you think happens when nine erotica authors get together? The Dirty Birdies blog comes into existence, that's what, and today is the day of my introductory post, Allow myself to introduce myself: Scarlett Parrish (I know; witty as all get-out, huh)? Bookmark it, follow it, tell your friends, whore the blog, spread the word. Spread the filth, people - spread the filth!

Speaking of which, et voila: the hottest man in the universe:

Rawr. Well I fucking would.

The three R's

2011-03-12T02:17:00.000Z

Reading, riting, and rawr.

The first of those:

Every so often you read a book that makes you seethe with professional jealousy. The Siren by Tiffany Reisz is just such a book. No, it's not out for months yet, but I got to read it early because I are speshul.

Earlier by email I accused her of being the bastard love-child of Graham Greene and Anais Nin, which went down well. I'm not even going to tell you what the book's about (although because of the author, you'll know it's filth). Just go take a look at her site. Or even better, click on the link to The Siren at the top of the page for a cast list. *coughWesleycough*

The damn whore made me cry! And I think my 'favourite books' list has another entry. In one third of a century I've only added 36 books to this list. Make that 37, now.

More news on the book nearer the time of its publication, but I'll quit the fangirl squeeing for now, lest you barf all over the intrawebs.

And so to 'riting'.

I've been making slow progress on Stay the Night. Worked out a few issues I have with the book, and it's not the POV at all - can't be; I've written 'as a man' before, and I sold my first male-POV book to Loose Id, so I know I can do it. Tense? Nope; all my books are written in past. Material? I've sold four erotic romances, so it's not that, either.

Sometimes other matters get so deep into your psyche that you don't even realise you're looking at the world as a different person. Things happen away from the internet, or writing, or your job, family, health, whatever...and you try to carry on writing as if you were the same person you were, for example, a year ago. But you're not. Whatever issues you've had to deal with affected you so deeply that it's no use saying, "I used to write this much, in this fashion, so why am I stalling now?" Perhaps you don't have the same support system or social circle. Maybe you're resisting the quiet voice inside you urging you on to try something different in your work, and this resistance is what saps the joy out of your writing life.

Never let it be said I've been blocked. I've said time and again I don't believe in all that nonsense. No, the words are there; it's just that I've had occasions where I've not felt as much joy while writing as I previously had. When reading over a previous day's work, I couldn't tell the difference between my 'pulling teeth' pages and any that were written 'in the zone' (all too rare recently, as sad as that is). The problem isn't with my writing; it's never been with my writing. The issues I've had, have been with my perception of what I write as I write.

I prefer to write fast because that way I don't have time to second-guess myself. I'm hurtling towards 'the end' and before I know it, I'm there, and it's time to edit.

In the past six months I've had two novels to revise - not just edit, but revise - meaning chapters had to be reordered, new ones written, conversations shifted to other scenes and because of this, I was reworking already-drafted books, as opposed to coming up with fresh, zingy, new characters who made my heart sing with eagerness to find out more about them. I'm a commitmentphobe. I prefer the excitement and romance of a new book, to the workaday beating-it-into-shape process of revising and/or editing, which is why when I edit a first draft, I do it quickly, to get it over with. Sometimes, work is required at a deeper level, and this work has necessarily slowed me right down.

And when it comes time to get back to coming up with fresh material and characters, I find my first draft hat doesn't fit any more, or it does, but feels awkward. My writing is sluggish, rather than sprinting. I still get to the finish line, but it takes me longer and I feel a bit dozy as I travel. The 100m dash has become an obstacle course. Oh, I'll get there in the end. I know what needs to be written. I know my characters as well as I need to while writing each section of the book. It's just...lifting them over hurdles feels like running a steeplechase with weights tied to my wrists and ankles.

I guess this is what it feels like when certain muscles atrophy. They still work, but boy do they resist when you try to get them working again. It just takes time, regular exercise and pushing yourself a little harder each day. The only way out is through, after all. Half the battle is mental, so here's what I've learned:

Find out who your friends are, and cherish them. And by friends, I don't mean people who say, "Gee, Scarlett - everything you write is wonderful!" I mean the ones who are honest. Telling writers what works doesn't help their writing improve. Beat the shit out of them! Okay, me. Tell me where I fuck up so I can put it right. Don't be scared of offending me or tiring me out when I'm down - this is how I get better. This is how I give my first draft muscles the workout they so desperately need.
Just show up. Sit at the desk, even if you fidget for hours before you get down to writing. I never used to stick to a set routine because I didn't need to. However, to move from revising/editing back into free spirit, book-spewing wordsmith mode, I need to get my body to my office before my mind shows up. You'd think the rigidity of editing would have the same regulatory effect on my eagerness to sit down and write, but not so. The editing process itself was all the self-discipline I needed. When I'm coming up with new material however, there are no such restrictions. No rules, no boundaries, no self-discipline, unfortunately. There's nothing outside of me to make me get on with it. No deadlines, no outside pressure. Once I'm back to normal, I might not need to be so strict with myself. In fact I know I won't. For now, though, it's a case of 'fake it 'til you make it'. Or, 'build it and he will come' if you want to go all Kevin Costner on me. The muse has taken a bit of a holiday. I need to lure her back with dedication. Instead of writing 500 words here and there, it'll be better to write to set hours with word count goals, then she'll move back in and never leave me alone, until it gets to the point where words are flowing through me like water through a sieve. All of which might make it sound like "Scarlett, you're blocked." I'd disagree. The words are coming (in fits and starts); the sense of fun is not. Once I feel joy in my writing again, then I'll know I'm over this speed bump.
I've often said I work well with a deadline. This is true. I also write more when I'm answerable to someone. I had a conversation the other night with an editor about feedback, its importance, and how easy it's been for me in the past to allow myself to become addicted to instant feedback. I know I'm good enough to be published, so this isn't me wangsting about "Wah, wah, wah, poor me, I don't know if I'll ever sell this book." Perhaps it would be truer to say I like knowing I have someone waiting for each chapter as I write it. It's a kind of accountability, this having to meet someone else's expectations. For me, it works much better when it's someone I know personally. I think of them as a real nagging bitch of a person as opposed to a non-specific reader or passing acquaintance. It doesn't have to be someone who beta-reads. Just someone who reads, really. And someone who's well 'ard enough to nag if I don't come up with the goods. Small goals are good. Rather than "Send me a book in a couple of months," I respond better to "Send me a chapter every two days," or somesuch.
Also, Alexander Skarsgard is shit-hot.

RAWR.

He just is. Don't even lie.

Bad blogger is bad

2011-03-05T07:59:00.000Z

More like 'lazy blogger is lazy' but never mind; I'm here now.

So, what have I been up to? Aside from recovering from yet another migraine, I've had a brainthink about minor revisions to be made to A Little Death before publication. Moving a conversation from one chapter to another, tightening up other patches of dialogue, that should be all that's required. (And no, that brainthink wasn't what caused the migraine - I'm just genetically cursed in that respect).

What am I working on now? A M/M novella (please God, just a novella this time) called Stay the Night, of which more news anon, i.e. when it's finished and sold. As usual, I fretted that my outline didn't have enough plot points in it. As usual, even three chapters in, I'm writing long according to the dictates of my characters who have taken over. They're also sniggering at my determination to keep them around the 30k mark. Bastids.

I've recently read Cherise Sinclair's Master of the Mountain. I say recently, I mean finished it within the past few hours. There's nothing like some good BDSM-fic to while away a sleepless night when you're recovering from a migraine. And thank God for Ms. Sinclair. Far too much BDSM-fic is unsafe, certifiably insane and...not to put too fine a point on it...rapey. Not so here. Okay, I had a minor quibble with the fact Logan (the Dom) didn't discuss hard limits, but there was a safe word and he was otherwise caring and the sub, Rebecca, wasn't a whiny doormat, so no other complaints here. Oops, it sounds like I'm saying I enjoyed this book because of everything it wasn't, comparing it to the bad fiction I've read. Suffice it to say I definitely recommend this book. 60k words or thereabouts and I whizzed through it in nearly one sitting, while, I must say again, I was recovering from a migraine. It was that good. I've got the sequel, Master of the Abyss, on my ereader, along with Club Shadowlands (the first of the Masters of the Shadowlands series) so I'm rubbing my hands together in anticipation.

Which reminds me...in complete contrast to the above fangirl squeeing, I have a guest blog coming up soon regarding what I've dubbed 'rapey erotica'. A Twitter-buddy picked up on the fact this is one of my hot button topics and offered up her blog for me to rant all over. Whether that turns out to be a wise decision or not remains to be seen. Another Twitter-buddy and fellow author also asked if I'd guest on her blog, so I'll need to get the little grey cells working and come up with a topic. I wonder if she'd go for "How Hot James Purefoy is and Why I'm the Only Woman Who Can Make Him Happy"?

In other news, Jensen Ackles is hot.

Bite me

2011-02-25T15:32:00.000Z

Oh come on, what else could I say to announce the sale of A Little Death, my vampire novel? "Suck it?"

More news on that once the contract's signed and returned, but for now...I have another book to be getting on with, so occupy yourselves with a Jared:

The Science of Napping

2011-02-21T02:08:00.000Z

It's been a while since I blogged about anything personal - nearly three weeks if you don't count the mention of some good reviews for By the Book then the submissions call-out at Total-e-Bound. So what have I come up with today? Something important - nay, vital - to all true writers.

Napping.

The creative brain needs rest, and having to deal with accursed chores and paying bills and mixing with - *shudder* - fleshpeoples fair takes it out of you. I know when I have an early start in the morning, by noon I'm knackered, because I never sleep well at night. When the alarm goes off I could smash it up, but I use my mobile phone as my alarm clock, so I can't. I just drag myself out of bed and plan for my prompt return to it.

A combination of broken sleep and...well, more broken sleep, necessitates naps quite often in my world. The strange thing is, if I know I need to go out in the evening, naps aren't as restful as the ones I take when I have the rest of the day free. The pressure to go out and mix with fleshies stops me sinking into proper, dreamy, warm, restful sleep.

So my ideal conditions are thusly:

The rest of the day free. If I have an evening appointment, I'm under pressure to be wide-awake, bathed, changed, presentable...and napping tends to make me look a bit crumpled. So I prefer to know no other human being will see me for the rest of the day.
Fleece pyjamas. Don't ask. They're just better than any other kind of sleepwear. Why? Because I say so.
A bottle of juice by the bed. Sleeping through the day raises one's body temperature, which can lead to dehydration - my number one migraine-trigger. However, sometimes I just damn well need to nap, and as for the fleece pyjamas warming me up a little too much? They're comfy. So there.
Painkillers. Just in case, given the point above.
A dirty book. I like my ereader. I read a few pages just before napping, which makes for interesting dreams.
Usually a few hours' sleep is enough to take the edge off. Any more than that and I'm dozy, and in danger of headaches and migraines. It's never good to sleep too long when there's filth to be writ. Maybe that's why my night-time sleep is broken; I'm always thinking of my characters, who don't like me to be unconscious too long.

The best kind of naps send you off into some daydreamy/half-asleep headspace where scenes from your current WIP play out in your head, so you ~~crawl out of your pit~~ arise from your bed refreshed and raring to get back to work.

See? This is srs bznz. Every writer needs a nap occasionally. Jensen Ackles says so.

Open Call for Submissions from Editor Lisa Cox at Total-E-Bound

2011-02-15T16:21:00.000Z

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: MM, MF, menage novels/novellas

Open call for submissions in MF, MM and menage erotic romance. I'm particularly interested in contemporary romance, urban fantasy, suspense/thriller, comedy/humour and western/cowboys. However, I'll look at most genres as long as it's fresh, well-written and erotic.

Length: 10k-125k

Submit the first three chapters and a synopsis to submissions@totalebound.com. Submit the full manuscript plus synopsis for stories under 20k. Please include the following details in the subject line: "SUBMISSION: [title], [MF/MM/Menage], [word count], Editor: Lisa Cox"

Full details and submission guidelines available at http://www.total-e-bound.com/

New authors welcome.

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: "SUBSPACE ANTHOLOGY"

Subspace - Bondage/BDSM Anthology

Guidelines:

15K to 20K word count per short story/novella

Masterful men dominating their submissive women in the best possible ways! Your Dom must enable his partner to reach the psychological state (Subspace) in a BDSM scene.

Heat Rating: Burning/Melting (see our book rating info)

The Submission deadline is 1st June 2011 for release in November 2011

Submit the full story plus synopsis.

When submitting, please enter "Subspace Submission, [title], Editor: Lisa Cox" in the email subject line.

Free filth!

2011-02-10T22:15:00.001Z

Got your attention, huh?

Firstly, Mandi's posted a smextacular review of By the Book over on her blog.

Daniel has tattoos and wears guyliner and loves to drink and have sex. (Can I claim him?) Daniel is a great match for Reece because he flirts so unabashedly. Reece describes him as “a cocky little shit,” and he knows it! And he is so very, very naughty.

This is the second book I have read by Scarlett Parrish – and both of them have grabbed me immediately. I love her characters – I am greatly entertained by their sarcastic humor and wicked thoughts. Further, her sex scenes are very well done. The combination of really dirty scenes and my love for the characters makes her books very memorable.

The complete review can be found hyuh.

As if that wasn't enough, she also interviewed me hyuh. Make sure you comment for a chance to win a copy of the book of your choice from my backlist. There are also photos of James Purefoy, so it's definitely worth a read.

And while I'm here, I'll mention Fiction Vixen's review of By the Book:

What worked: Daniel Cross. The End. Ok, there’s more. Pretty much everything worked for me in this story. I think this is one of the sexiest love triangles I’ve read and I really enjoyed every minute of this book. The sexual tension, the emotional connection between Reece and Georgia/ Reece and Daniel, and Daniel’s heart breaking struggle to make it all work had me riveted.

What didn’t work: There’s not really anything that didn’t work that I want to point out. I really liked this book.

The complete review can be found hyuh.

Daniel Fucking Cross, taking over the world one blog at a time.

For absolutely no reason at all, here is a hairy Irishman:

Would you like some cheese with that whine?

2011-02-02T18:42:00.000Z

I’m a writer. I know; you’re shocked. But here’s the killer line: I’m a writer by choice. Oh sure, I was born with the compulsion to tell stories, an affinity with books, a feeling of coming home every time I stepped into a library, a book shop, a room lined with bookcases. But I choose to do something about it. No-one makes me sit down in my office chair every morning and bang away at the laptop until I reach ‘The End’. I only wish they did; maybe then I’d get to ‘The End’ an awful lot sooner.

It’s a really hard life, falling out of bed at whatever hour I choose, making a huge mug of tea and sitting at my laptop, still in my pyjamas if I can’t be bothered getting dressed just yet, and writing about romantic relationships with a sharp focus on their sexual dynamic. Especially hard to take are the occasional emails from people telling me how much they enjoy my books. And it’s a real kicker when I get a favourable review which in turn influences other people to buy one of my novels and read it themselves. Those four-star ratings are a real insult. Why aren’t they fives? Don’t they know who I am?

Sometimes the pressure gets too much for me and I’m forced to publicise the difficulties of my existence on this blog and Twitter. Every bead of perspiration is documented in exacting detail, just so you, my public, understand the tortures I go through to bring to you filthy, dirty books full of spanking and blow jobs.

Actually, wait, no...that’s bullshit.

I’m gonna tell you the truth right here, right now: writing is occasionally puzzling or challenging. Challenges are opportunities wearing a cloak of disguise. You might sit up and think, “Hmm, how do I write my way out of this one? Never mind; I’ll work on another scene until it comes to me.” But is this process difficult? Hard? Hell no.

What’s difficult about switching on a computer and making shit up? I’m not out there in the driving rain digging ditches. I’m not dressed in scrubs with someone else’s life literally in the palms of my hands. I’m not making decisions that could change the political map of my country overnight.

Yes, I acknowledge that literature can change the world, the pen being mightier than the sword. Oftentimes that occurs when the book is out of the author’s hands, when it belongs to the world. I’m talking about the bread-and-butter, day-in, day-out routine, schedule, workaday bollocks that boils down to nothing more than this acronym:

BICHOK.

Butt in chair, hands on keyboard.

Characters misbehave. They surprise you. They tangle you in knots mentally and emotionally sometimes. This is a good thing. It proves your characters are real. If you, the author, aren’t emotionally invested, how on earth can you expect the reader to be? I’ll say it again: this is a good thing.

Don’t complain when good things happen. It makes you look like an ungrateful diva.

If you feel compelled to do so and can’t (or won’t) resist? Quit. Seriously. Take your negative energy away from this thing which I love most. You’re poisoning it. Take up something which incurs less pressure for you. Say...brain surgery? No-one makes you do this. No-one made this choice for you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m lucky. I hate the concept of luck. I worked for this. I deserve it. I got to be here because of everything I went through back there. I love this job. It infuriates me sometimes but even then, even when I hate it, I love the very bones of it, every breath taken in the process.

I have no sympathy for writers who complain about how what are essential parts of this work. Find it hard it to come up with ideas? They’re all around us. Is it ‘hard’ to outline? Maybe your story isn’t ready to be told yet. Does your writing drag when you’re nearing the end of a project? The only way out is through. Is it difficult for you to find the time to write? There are 24 hours in my day; how about yours? Do you have a long, tailing-around-the-corner-at-the-end-of-the-street queue of characters and scenes which increase daily? Good. Welcome to my world.

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve sat here and grizzled over a character not doing as he’s told (lookin’ at you, Daniel Fucking Cross), a chapter not going the way I planned, a plotline doing a complete 180 on me. It’s surprising and exhilarating, this voyage of discovery, beautiful and terrifying. I mutter a bit, vent out loud but ultimately it makes me feel alive, this activity which is, every day, an act of creation. It’s a megalomaniac’s dream. Writers are gods of their own creation. We have entire universes inside our heads.

No writer will ever be talented enough to write a blog post, a Tweet, or an email which convinces me of anything other than this one true thing: writing? I choose you.

Guest author Rosalie Stanton on O.C.D.

2011-01-30T15:02:00.000Z

Fear Itself

Scarlett asked me to visit her blog and talk about OCD, and it's taken a while before I could decide what exactly I wanted to say on the matter that I haven't said already. Yet in this area, repetition is necessary. OCD is so stigmatized and misunderstood, such to the point I get irrationally angry whenever I hear people classify their “nit-pickiness” as OCD. Sorry, world, but wanting your pens stacked in a certain way or being addicted to hand-sanitizer does not make you OCD. To have the compulsion (stacking, checking, counting, washing), you must first have the OBSESSION. And no, obsession doesn’t mean it annoys you or you think about it more than once. Obsession means it’s in you, in your skin, something you know logically isn’t true somehow feels as real as your right hand. And while you know there is no sense in fearing something your body and mind rejects as false, you can’t get rid of the thought. The thought consumes you, devours you, and leaves you desperate for relief.

If you haven’t experienced something like this, you don’t have OCD.

In an effort to shed some light on my personal experience, I will say that I’ve had OCD for about twenty years. It first manifested after my parents’ divorce when I was seven, though the rituals and checking didn’t grow out of hand until I was nine or ten. I began worrying about the safety of my mother, to the point where I’d call or page her at the office hundreds of times a day to make sure she hadn’t gotten into a car accident, and if I didn’t hear from her immediately, I’d worry myself sick over her welfare. I also went through phases where I’d check the locks on every possible entrance to our home, certain that if I didn’t do it just one more time, I risked putting myself, my mom, and my little brother in danger. Those years are a little murky in my memory, but I believe these rituals were present before I started having textbook contamination fears.

Contamination fears are likely those people typically confuse with germaphobia. Yes, there is some overlap, so it’s clear where the stereotype originates. However, obsessive contamination fears may, at times, have nothing to do with germs. When I was little, my first contamination fear was I would die of lead poisoning. Why lead poisoning? Well, why not? OCD doesn’t have to make sense. I just heard about it one day, and immediately I feared I’d been contaminated. I stopped using pencils. I held my breath upon entering rooms where lead paint might have been used. I scraped my skin and checked my blood for black, blotchy spots. Eventually, my fears transcended into an all-out fear of death, and I went through the typical motions of washing my hands until they bled, covering my mouth, throwing out food I felt had been compromised, and generally making life hell for myself and everyone around me. Yet my fears were not limited to germs—they just happened to include them. Even now, though I haven’t experienced physical compulsions or contamination fears in years, I’ll still find myself obsessing over an ache in my tummy or worrying about cancer. Yet after my first of many meetings with multiple therapists, I realized I wasn’t going to die because I ate a s’more off a stick at a bonfire, and slowly, my symptoms subsided.

This likely sounds pretty open-and-shut. People with OCD are often associated with contamination fears, so this is what you’re used to hearing. However, my personal fears that have been most active in the last sixteen years or so had nothing to do with germs. Rather, a few months after my contamination fears dwindled, I became struck, and subsequently terrified, by the idea that I could kill someone.

I really don’t know how to explain this. It’s just a thought—a thought among many. People without OCD have these thoughts all the time. Maybe in traffic or at the grocery store, someone pisses you off and you think, “I’d like to run them over” or something to that effect. These thoughts are natural…but to the person who experiences violent obsessive thoughts, they mean something else entirely. They mean YOU ARE A BAD PERSON and YOU COULD HURT SOMEONE YOU LOVE and YOU’RE A DANGEROUS KILLER! IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME.

Imagine trying to tell someone you’ve had thoughts about killing them, but you don’t want to and you really don’t mean it. The thoughts eat away at you, keep you up at night. If you’re religious (which I was at the time), you pray routinely that your loved ones will be kept safe, and that you will experience some sort of relief. You push and shove and try to find a way out of the black hole in which you find yourself, only to discover you’ve been digging in the wrong direction. I had to have this conversation with my mother when I was around eleven, and as you might imagine, she did not react well.

You know why people with OCD react to violent thoughts adversely? Because it’s not them. People who fear their thoughts will never act on them, anymore than I, a lifelong sufferer of arachnophobia, would willingly walk into a spider nest. The very existence of the thought causes anxiety you can’t imagine, because you couldn’t live with yourself if any of your fears came to light, and you can’t live with yourself fearing they might. Recently, I started watching the A&E show OBSESSED. There was one episode when a young woman with violent thoughts was asked to place a very sharp blade against her therapist’s throat and hold it. The girl was terrified, but the therapist encouraged her to hold the knife as long as she could, even saying, “Come on, kill me.”

You can guess how this ended. The therapist walked away alive, and the girl realized she would never act on her thoughts. The therapist then said that people with obsessive violent thoughts of this nature—the sort they fear—are people anyone could trust their lives with, as they would never, ever act on their thoughts. This sort of exposure therapy, called CBT, is the most effective in treating OCD, and the sort I’ve employed over the last couple years. It differentiates between homicidal patients (those who enjoy or take pleasure from thoughts of violence) to OCD patients—those who would give anything to have the thoughts go away.

Now, contamination thoughts and obsessive thoughts are not the bulk of my OCD experience. I’ve had paranoid thoughts, homosexual thoughts, relationship-substantiation thoughts, and pretty much thoughts about anything you can imagine. No topic is safe when it comes to the obsessive-compulsive mind, and whatever you hold dear is liable to become a target.

People with OCD are not delusional. They understand their fears aren’t real, and that understanding, in fact, almost always causes more distress. After all, if it’s not real, why fear it? I felt the same way with all my obsessions. I wasn’t afraid of the answer being yes, I was afraid of the reasons why I had the thoughts at all.

So what do you do? I’ve dealt with this in some way or another for most of my life. Do I shut myself in? Do I lock the doors and hide? Of course not. In fact, were any of you to meet me, you’d never guess I was obsessive compulsive. It’s a part of who I am, not who I am. I take medication, I seek help, I own my disease so it doesn’t own me. If I feel myself spiking—that is, having a surge of obsessive thoughts—I calm myself down and embrace it. After all, how else do you beat fear? You make yourself not afraid. Turning around and running in the other direction did nothing but give my thoughts power. The more I tried not to think them, the more I thought them. Now, if ever my day has gone poorly, I let myself be obsessive. After all, I am allowed. I am an obsessive compulsive, and the way I react to stress is the way I conditioned myself to react. So yes, I will have thoughts. I will likely have thoughts, ranging from across the spectrum, for the rest of my life. Does that upset me? Of course not. I can’t control what I think, and it’s foolish to try. What I can control is my response and whether or not I let it control me.

Admittedly, my case is rather mild. I once thought I was completely isolated in my violent fears, but learned violent thoughts are among the most common in OCD. In my search for knowledge, I’ve seen some horrific examples of OCD. In fact, one of the groups I joined harbors more “at risk” obsessive-compulsives than I’ve ever met, and I find myself getting more and more annoyed with them because the same three people post the same three messages and none of them have the strength to fight for their mental freedom. This isn’t easy. It became easy for me because I fought my disorder and sent it crying into a corner. Even if it recuperates and attacks again, it won’t beat me. But this didn’t happen over night. I had some very, very dark days, weeks, and months. I fought myself every way I could, and the only reason I succeeded was because I worked at it. Just like dieting, there is no magical pill you take to wish this or any mental condition away. It takes time and effort, and you have to be an active participant in your recovery.

I know this post has been rambly, and a little redundant if you’re familiar with my blog. At any event, I open the floor for discussion and encourage anyone with questions to come forward. If you’re not comfortable speaking publicly, you can always reach me directly at rosalie.stanton@gmail.com. Other resources include:

http://www.ocfoundation.org/what-is-ocd.html
http://exposingocd.blogspot.com/
http://kinderbrainlives.blogspot.com/

I thank Scarlett for allowing me time on her blog.

Yours in mental health,

Rosalie Stanton

http://rosalie-stanton.com/
http://rosaliestanton.blogspot.com/
https://twitter.com/rosaliestanton

###

Rosalie is the author of, among others, Firsts and Possession from Loose Id, Dark Solace from Noble Romance and Moving Target from Lyrical Press.

Cross words

2011-01-25T22:07:00.000Z

Hurr hurr...didja see whut ah did thur? Cross words? Daniel Fucking Cross?

While pootling around Twitter this afternoon I stumbled across a link to a review of By the Book from Robin L. Rotham. I knew it would be favourable when she tweeted that she 'LOVED this book!' but, well, check out these quotes:

Those of you who read my sporadic posts know that I rarely make book recommendations. But every once in a while I read a book that just won't let go of me, that makes me say "God, I wish I could write like that!" -- a book that makes me feel I'm doing my friends a disservice by not recommending it.

By the Book by Scarlett Parrish is just such a book.

And:

The writing was absolutely lovely. The conflict unfolded so naturally, and the action and dialogue were so true to the characters that, although I was dying to know how it all turned out, I couldn't make myself skip a single word. (And that's saying something because I'm a champion skimmer.)

So I'm more than happy with this review, not least because Robin's multi-published with one of the 'Big 5', the five biggest/most prestigious e-publishers out there. (Yep, Loose Id is on that list, but I'm not multi-published there. Yet).

What else? Well, Plus One is now available in print, much sooner than expected. I received my royalties statement for January from Loose Id (no, I won't be discussing specifics in public) and I'm a chapter and a bit away from being done with my vampire novel.

So a pretty good day for me, all round!

Oh sod it, one more quote from the review (a link to which I have added to the appropriate page, above); why not? (Bolding mine):

Daniel (*fainting sigh over Daniel* I think only Scarlett Parrish could make me believe guyliner is the most intriguing thing ever) was an enigma to Reece throughout most of the book, and yet much of that was a result of Reece's own insecurity and inability to let go of his old expectations. Even though Reece was telling the story, it was like I could see in his words what he couldn't--the vulnerability hiding behind Daniel's swaggering veneer.

The complete review can be found here.

Overload

2011-01-22T02:15:00.000Z

I've just watched three episodes of Being Human back-to-back, plus disc two's special features, so that means tomorrow? Another three episodes (or two, and another on Sunday) before Season 3 starts on Sunday evening. I'm suffering from severe Aidan Turner overload at the minute. I say 'suffering' I mean 'enjoying mightily'.

Not forgetting the fact The Tudors starts again tomorrow night so it's a weekend of Irish mancandy for everyone, dahrlings!

I know, I know. It's shite. Historically inaccurate. Clunky dialogue. On-the-nose explanations of foreign phrases: "Fidei Defensor...? Defender of the Faith." Yes, thank you for explaining something all characters present would already know, thereby acknowledging the viewer, breaking down the fourth wall and ruining my suspension of disbelief, scriptwriters.

Nevertheless, I can justify my watching it in not even one word, but a picture, which paints a thousand of the little buggers:

Jonathan Rhys Meyers has a big...throne.

Om nom nom indeed.

Oh, you wanted writing talk? Um...yeah. Well. *cough* Despite pledging to write 50k words from mid-January to mid-February in an erotica writers' PorNoWriMo thingy, I'm way, way behind, so, uh...yeah.

Better get back to work. I have loads to do.

After leaving you with this:

Look into my eyes. No, not at my hairy chest. My eyes.

And really, in for a penny, in for a pound when it comes to hot Irishmen, right?

"They're always after me lucky charms. And yes, she is running out of caption ideas."

How this UK author got her ITIN

2011-01-19T19:04:00.000Z

For a few months now I've been chasing the elusive ITIN (Individual Taxpayer Identification Number) from the IRS and now I have it, I thought it would be useful to blog about the process. It might help other UK residents.

So. Back in August I sold By the Book to Loose Id and thought all I had to do was send them a polished manuscript and wait for les munniez to roll in. Ha!

Due to the way this particular publisher works when it comes to coughing up said munniez, I needed to prove to the IRS that I was a non-resident alien, specifically a permanent resident of the United Kingdom, even though I'm technically employed by an American publisher. If I didn't, my publisher would be required to act as a 'withholding agent' and withhold 30% of my royalties, pay it to the American tax man, and send me the remaining 70%. An American publisher pays my royalties, so until I prove my residency abroad, Uncle Sam takes his cut.

As if that wasn't enough, when the cheque eventually made it overseas to yours truly, I'd be taxed on 100% of my earnings - not 70%.

Reason enough to search out the elusive ITIN.

And this is how I did it.

Firstly, I had to let my publisher know I required a supporting letter. This is nothing more than a letter from them confirming that this person is contracted to Loose Id, and is a non-resident alien. You need the original letter, no photocopies or printed-out emails. Remember to ask them to send the letter snail mail.

The accounting department of Loose Id emailed me with a photocopy of the letter they'd be sending, along with .PDF files of forms W7 and W-8BEN from the IRS, with instructions for both. Bear with me; they come into play later.

After a week or so, the hard copy of the supporting letter arrived. Then comes the confusing part - filling out form W7. The .PDF file I received was 'editable' if that's a word, meaning I could type most of my details into the file and re-save it under another file name.

This is how I went about it, but remember the following is only applicable to UK residents. If you are from another part of the world, double check all details, especially the treaty number.

Tick box a: Nonresident alien required to get ITIN to claim tax treaty benefit.
Tick box h and write/type: 'exception 1 (d) royalty income' in the space provided.
Directly underneath this, remember to type in the treaty country: United Kingdom (I always spell it out just to be on the safe side) and the treaty article number: 12. Note this only applies to the United Kingdom. Different country, different treaty article number.
I filled in part 1a, my birth name. 1b didn't apply as my name has never changed.
Part 2, my address, is self-explanatory.
Part 3 I left blank, as I'd already filled in my address in part 2. My postal address is no different to my resident address.
Part 4, birth information: Remember to fill this in, in the American style. MM/DD/YYYY. Country of birth? Yes, the UK has individual countries, but don't put Scotland, Wales, England, Northern Ireland, whatever. You write what's on your passport - United Kingdom. You can be more specific where it asks for city/state/province if you so desire. I typed my specific country of birth and residence here.
Part 5? Are you male or female? Hopefully you know the answer to this one.
Part 6a: Country of residence? Again, United Kingdom. 6b Foreign tax I.D. number (if any): here I typed my National Insurance number. 6c I left blank. For 6d I ticked 'passport'. This comes into play later, so pay attention. 6e, I ticked 'no'. 6f and 6g I left blank.
I then printed out the entire document and signed it in the (amazing, this part) SIGN HERE space, added the date - again, remember, American style - and added my mobile phone number, as I don't have a landline. The code for the United Kingdom is +44. This counts as the first '07' of your mobile number, so if your number starts off 07123, you'd put +44 in the area code space, followed by 123, then the other six digits of your phone number.

That's form W7 dealt with.

I sent it, my supporting letter and my passport special delivery to this address:

Internal Revenue Service
American Embassy
24 Grosvenor Square
London W1A 1AE
United Kingdom

Why special delivery? It costs about £5 but the contents of the envelope are insured up to a value of roughly £100, and with my passport going walkabout, it was well worth it. It just wasn't possible or cost effective for me to travel all the way down to the American Embassy in London, so I had to do everything by post.

The envelope needs to be signed for at the other end, and you can track delivery online. There's no need for a covering letter; the presence of the W7 makes it clear why you're contacting them.

After around a fortnight, my passport was sent back, also special delivery, meaning I had to sign for it at my end.

Then I waited...

...and waited...

...and waited.

A few days ago I received a letter from the IRS Headquarters in Texas confirming they'd assigned me an ITIN. (The American Embassy send your passport back to you after confirming you're a UK citizen and resident, then forward the letter and W7 to the IRS). It took nearly three months, but was worth it in the end. Remember - this is all to ensure I get 100% of my royalties, instead of 70%.

Take a deep breath. We're nearly done.

I then had to fill out form W-8BEN, which the accounting department of Loose Id also kindly sought out for me and emailed me.

Part 1: Name. Self-explanatory.
Part 2: I left blank.
Part 3: I ticked the box marked 'individual'.
Part 4: My address. Easy.
Part 5: Mailing address, if different from above. I left this blank.
Part 6: U.S. taxpayer identification number: Here I typed the ITIN exactly as it appeared in the letter from the IRS: three digits, dash, two digits, dash, four digits. I ticked the box marked 'SSN or ITIN'.
Part 7: I left this blank.
Part 8: This asks for a reference number. Your publisher may or may not have one for you; it's okay to leave this blank as they can later add any reference or code they use for your files/details. This is what I did.
Part 9: I ticked 'a' and typed that I was a resident of the United Kingdom. I also ticked 'b' to confirm I had detailed my ITIN, above.
Part 10: Special rates and conditions. In the first blank space I typed 12 for the treaty article number applying to the UK. In the second blank space I typed 0 to indicate there should be a 0% withholding of my royalties. In the third blank space I typed royalties to confirm the type of income I'm referring to. In the fourth, where it asks for a reason, I typed Permanent resident of the United Kingdom.

I then printed out the form, signed it at the bottom and dated it, again, MM/DD/YYYY.

Actually I printed out two copies because I'm paranoid about one being damaged in transit or having coffee spilled over it or somesuch...and posted it (them) airmail to the accounting department of Loose Id.

And that is how I went about getting an ITIN and saving myself 30% of every royalties cheque from Loose Id.

And I have to give full credit to Ash Penn, fellow LI author and British national, who talked me through all of the above, in detail. It's not for nothing that I mention her in the acknowledgements of By the Book. I'd have gone mad trying to figure all of the above out myself, so again, Ash, thank you.

Vampires, a review and some Dick, oh my!

2011-01-16T20:46:00.000Z

Still working away on my vampire novel revisions. So much for it being a novella; the characters have decided I need to sex up the book and because of this it's going to shoot (snerk) way, way, way past the 50k mark. And my readjusted guesstimate of 55k. If it tickles 60k, then...I give in. I'll stop claiming I have any control over what my characters do.

I know, darlings. I'm so precious.

But! Dr. Spencer Flynn popped my reviewcherry earlier, or at least Mandi at SmexyBooks did after reading Plus One. The two halves of the book struck different notes for her, but she was very complimentary about my voice:

Plus One is the first book I have read by Scarlett Parrish and I really love her voice. The first half of the book is SO GOOD. Take this more awkward, mature math professor and pair him with a very mouthy (but not annoying) young adult who is also very nervous at this blooming romance, and their sex scenes just make me shiver. They are so well done – they are very dirty, and very erotic, but the actual characters themselves are so shy and nervous, that it is a great combination.

...and Lydia's social circle:

...when Lydia hangs with her group of friends to gossip about Spencer or life in general, it very much reminds me of Bridget Jones Diary, and her friends in a pub scene. They are all foul-mouthed (which I love) and had me cracking up in every scene.

Mandi wrapped things up with a huge compliment:

I definitely like Scarlett Parrish’s voice and will be seeking out more of her books.

The rest of the review can be found here.

Richard Armitage recommends you go read it.

He's got a gun. You probably shouldn't argue with him.

Guest author: Julia Knight

2011-01-10T22:18:00.000Z

Today we have the honour (*cough*) of a visit from Julia Knight, who apparently has another book out now or somethin' or nothin'. There's pirates in it. Oh yeah. Ten Ruby Trick, that's it.

Being a lazy moobag, she couldn't be bothered coming up with a topic herself, so I said, "What about a treatise on Van Gasp's winky?"

She said no.

Actually, what she said was, "His name's Van Gast, and I am not blogging about his winky!" Then she hit me with a sausage.

So, in an attempt to be mature - we all know how long that will last - I suggested telling us how Van Gasp went from a nebulous idea a to fully-fledged character, which she does thusly:

###

Van Gast started with two lines of dialogue, not even his lines. No, they were two lines from his girlfriend teasing him: ‘You know how I love a smart man. Any idea where I can find one?’

That was it, all I had except for the vague notion that they were conning someone and the trick involved rubies. Van Gast didn’t even have a name (you can thank my Old Man for that. Luckily he’s used to random statements like ‘Quick, I need a pirate name, now!’ It’s good for him, develops his reflexes.)

So, how did this nebulous idea turn into Van Gast, privateer extraordinaire, wicked with the ladies, can steal like a god and who eschews the sensible-but-boring in favour of the stupid-but-exciting? Good question….

From that nebulous beginning a lot of questions cropped up – who they were conning and why etc. I knew that Van Gast and his girlfriend Josie kept their relationship under wraps. They pretend to loathe each other in order to con people, and delight in teasing each other publicly. So the first part of the puzzle that was Van Gast came in his opening scene, and his relationship with her—that it is fun, flirty, bordering on dangerous and she’s never quite in his grasp. Josie isn’t the sensible sort of girlfriend to have, but she is the exciting one, yet the one he can’t pin down. Once I knew that about him, he grew and grew. I could hear him in my head. He was grinning mostly too.

But still, that’s not much to hang a book on, is it? No, that happened later, when I added his antagonist (who is also a protagonist whose antagonist is Van Gast…are you keeping up at the back?). Because before the book starts, Van Gast has done something a little silly—he’s unintentionally robbed the one ship that’s really going to get him into trouble. And it was the addition of the antagonist—Holden—who is every respect almost the polar opposite of Van Gast that let me carve out exactly what is was that was so important to Van. And then have Holden threaten to take that away.

In other words, what makes Van Gast the character he is, is what makes all the characters I love best to read—what they want, what they are prepared to do to get it, and what’s stopping them. Without Holden to thwart him and be his opposite, Van Gast wouldn’t be half the character he is. Without Josie he wouldn’t be anywhere near as fun, because it’s the relationships between them all that drives him.

Because in the end, Van Gast’s defining characteristic is passion—when he knows what he wants, he’ll let nothing and no one stop him, whether it’s a girl, his freedom or that diamond over there that no one seems to want….

###

Julia "Five-times-a" Knight blogs here and is also on Twitter. Proceed with caution.

Or you could just buy her book here, to discover whether or not Van Gasp gets his winky out.

Fiddling

2011-01-09T22:25:00.007Z

We're one week or so into 2011 and already I've decided to adjust my goals. No, it's not a failure. It's a readjustment.

I'm working on revising my vampire novella-that-became-a-category-that-became-a-novel and I'm finding it very difficult to add 1,500 words each day. I guesstimate The Artist Formerly Known as 47k will be somewhere around the mid-50s mark when I'm done, so that's only an additional 8k words. Five days' work.

It's now the 9th January. Why am I not done yet?

Ah well, you see, I'm not just adding chapters. I'm rearranging scenes, taking that scene from that character, dumping it elsewhere in the book and gifting it to another character, drip-feeding the worldbuilding stuff into a greater number of scenes to make it more subtle, line-editing even the chapters that ostensibly don't need much work, adding more dirty bits...

So I could work on the manuscript for hours at a time while only gaining 70 words all evening. And this has happened.

1,500 words a day is an admirable goal - when you're drafting, which I am not. I'm revising. Two completely different animals. Some days I gain words, others I lose words. Still others my word count stays the same but the book looks completely different. It's like a quickfire counterbalance act sometimes. "Hurry! Excise that chapter but slip this new scene in before the characters notice!"

I've decided to stick to the word count goal when I'm writing a first draft. When I'm editing or revising a manuscript, numeral targets aren't as useful as temporal ones, which is why I'm adjusting my goal to say, "1,500 words a day when I'm drafting, a deadline of two weeks when I'm editing or revising."

Which is a long-winded way of saying, "I want to get this novel done by the end of the 14th of this month, after which I'll move on to my next project."

Still working on the self-discipline and regular work schedule. Sometimes you get the day, sometimes the day gets you. But I'm working towards finding rules and a routine that helps me become more productive.

I'm sure Dick would approve.

Look into my eyes.

Interview and giveaway for BY THE BOOK

2011-01-08T16:37:00.007Z

One of Marie Sexton's characters, Cole Nicholas Fenton Davenport III ('Fruitcake' for short), interviews me today on her blog, linky hyuh.

There's also a chance to win a copy of By the Book if you comment before Monday when the draw happens, so be sure to do so if you fancy reading some filth.

For no earthly reason, here is a Dick. I like to think Cole would approve.

"Why yes, I am shit-hot."

Excerpt from GENETIC ATTRACTION by Tara Lain

2011-01-07T01:26:00.006Z

Another post from fellow Loose Id author, Tara Lain, you lucky people! Today, an excerpt from her just-released novel, Genetic Attraction.

Meet Roan...

###

The doorbell sounded. Goose bumps erupted. This was it. She hadn’t even had time to think of what to say to the boyfriend of the man of her dreams.

Fighting a giggle, she hopped up, wobbled a little, crossed the entry, and yanked open the door.

Jesus. Was this what people meant when they said “your heart stops?” She stared.

The man standing under her porch light almost didn’t seem real. She looked up into clear green eyes so heavily fringed with lashes, they looked like they were lined with kohl. And that mouth? Looking at it had to be a mortal sin in at least three major religions. Like female beauty somehow architecturally carved into a male masterpiece.

He extended his long, slim hand and said simply, “Roan.”

His hand was so warm. “I know.”

He smiled. Did the sun just come out? Dimples. And one of those shining white teeth was crooked. Maybe nature could only endure so much perfection and had to fight back with a tiny cosmic joke.

Yikes. She flew off her feet, and breath whooshed from her lungs as he crushed her against the silky fabric of his tux and the hard, slim body beneath. She managed to get her toes back on the ground and looked up at that exquisite face framed by silky black hair.

He beamed. “Hello, darling.” He dropped his head and kissed her, full on the mouth.

Far from a “howdy” kind of peck, the kiss was soft and lingering, with the slightest hint of a warm tongue against her lips. She fought not to whimper.

Gradually, and it felt reluctantly, he pulled back. “I think I’m your date for tonight.”

Only one thing came to mind. “Holy shit.”

From a few steps behind Roan, Jake started to laugh.

###

Tara can be found on Twitter, Goodreads and Facebook. She also blogs and has a website and you can contact her directly at tara AT taralain DOT com (no spaces, of course).

Guest author: Tara Lain

2011-01-06T04:11:00.002Z

This evening is Twelfth Night, the night when the holidays are officially over, Christmas decorations come down and we settle into cold, rainy January with its return to work and the inevitable credit card bills.

So what better way to cheer ourselves up than to invite Tara Lain over to this blog to talk about what she learned from writing her first Loose Id release, Genetic Attraction (purchase link here)?

All the cool kids had contemporary menage releases from Loose Id on Jan 4, y'know...

###

For 12th Night: 12 Things I Learned Writing My First Novels

Thank you, Scarlett, for inviting me to your site as we celebrate our mutual releases from Loose Id (that sounds a wee bit dirty, doesn’t it?). Since you guys celebrate 12th Night (in the U.S. we pretty much ignore it), I thought I’d share twelve of the lessons learned in the creation of Genetic Attraction as well as the books I’ve written since then. Here goes:

Heroes can never be too beautiful. I know it’s fun to have heroines that have a real-world quality sometimes, but heroes just have to be yummy (even if confused and angst ridden).

Menage is a very fun dynamic as long as all the participants have a real depth of feeling. I’ve written two m/m/f ménages and now am writing a m/m/m ménage. Same rule applies.
Deep point-of-view, where you are locked into the character’s thoughts, feelings and viewpoint completely, is the whole deal in creating a great story. The reader will feel cheated if the author doesn’t get it, though they may not know why.
All conflict is internal to start, but a great external villain can sure make a plot go easier,
I’m part plotter and part pantser (seat-of-the-pants writer). A plotser? I seldom write plot outlines, but I do plan out the story in my head before I write. The rest just happens.
I can write 2,000 words a day easily, and 3,000 or more if I push. Two to 3 thousand means I can still eat, sleep, and work.
Characters grab you and won’t let go til their story is told. I have three books in one series and there may be a fourth, because the characters just keep talking.
Ideas for stories come from everywhere. I created a ballet-themed collage for a friend for Christmas (in London) and it inspired me to write a story with a ballet dancer hero.
Writing sex scenes is fun, but you have to lock into deep point of view to show the feelings or it becomes all about hands and legs and body parts, especially in a ménage!

Writing a M/M/M ménage in third person POV is hell on pronouns! He, he and he. LOL.
Because I’m a nonfiction writer in my day job, I can only write fiction at night and on the weekends if I’m passionate about the story. I’ve discovered I have a passion for passion!
I’m so grateful to the world of independent, digital publishing for making it possible for writers of subgenres like me to find their audience and express their creativity.

I wonder what you all have learned from reading Scarlett’s books and other erotic romances this past year? Oh c’mon. Share. : )

###

Tara can be found on Twitter, Goodreads and Facebook. She also blogs and has a website and you can contact her directly at tara AT taralain DOT com (no spaces, of course).

###

Don't forget to check back tomorrow, when I'll be posting an excerpt from Genetic Attraction to whet your appetites for some filth to keep you warm this winter!

BY THE BOOK available now

2011-01-04T14:28:00.006Z

Danielgeddon has arrived!

Buy the book. You know you want to. There's mansluttery in it.

Available now from Loose Id, LLC - Purchase link here.

Click here to read an excerpt.

###

Two's company; three's allowed.

Reece Hutton conducts his life between the covers -- of books and beds. A librarian by day, in the evenings he's a man whose tastes are anything but vanilla. So when local writer Daniel Cross appears in the library one afternoon with the aim of doing some research, Reece has a hard time not noticing how attractive he is, or what feels like chemistry between them. They exchange a few words and Daniel's business card, an interlude which Reece puts down to networking rather than flirtation.

After all, he has his girlfriend Georgia to go home to and her best friend: a threesome to help his birthday go literally with a bang. Reece, being a gentleman (most of the time), has no objection to returning the favor, especially as his new friend Daniel seems all too willing to be their third for an evening. Georgia sees their triangle as nothing more than a temporary bit of fun but Reece...? He’ll eventually have to own up to breaking the unwritten rules of their relationship or close the book on a growing attraction to Daniel.

###

I especially love the bit my publisher added to the bottom of the blurb on the purchase page:

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Male/male sexual practices, menage (m/f/m, f/m/f with female interaction).

I hadn't realised By the Book was quite that dirty...

My lovely blog

2011-01-03T14:48:00.004Z

Danielgeddon happens tomorrow so before the excitement, bookwhoring, interviews and guest blog posts start happening, I thought we could do with a musical interlude.

That is all.

Goals for 2011

2011-01-01T15:18:00.004Z

These are my goals, and my goals are these:

I will write 1,500 words a day. At least.
That's my migraine minimum. If I fall short, I add the shortfall to the following day's total. If I go over, it doesn't buy me any leeway the following day. Each morning, the countdown starts again at 1,500 (plus any word debt from the previous day, which I will do my best to avoid).

Office hours.
I'll work 9am-12noon and 1-4pm on weekdays except in cases of unrearrangeable (that's a real word) appointments. If I want writing to be my career, I need to treat it like my job. And working six hours a day is a pretty lenient timetable when you think about it. 1,500 words in that length of time will be a walk in the park.

I'll also write on weekends, but according to my whim, rather than the clock.

No pyjama days.
I know. A weird one. But even on those occasions when I think no-one else will see me, it's still a good idea to keep up the grooming routine, make myself presentable. Why? Because I will still see me.

Read 100 ebooks (easy) and 100 print books (more challenging).
Self-explanatory. 2010's reading list was dominated by ebooks but that didn't stop me piling up the print books, which I need to start working through.

'Read 3, buy 1'.
To buy one new book, I have to have read three I already own, in the relevant format.
Read three ebooks to buy one new ebook, read three print books to buy one new print book. No crossovers, otherwise I'd whizz through three ebooks in a day and 'cheat' by buying a print book. Library and other borrowed books and beta reads don't count towards my totals. They're extras. No nutritional value, if you will.

Earn my cinema visits.
Finally, if I make my weekly total (1,500 words x 7 days = 10,500 words) I get to go to the cinema on a Friday evening. No carry-overs to give myself a head start on the next week - every Saturday morning, the counter resets to zero...or minus-numbers if I have a word debt. No overlaps, no cheating. If there's a shortfall, tough. No Odeon for Scarlett. Saturday morning to Friday evening, 10,500 words at least, end of story.

Course, if I write 15k over the weekend by some miracle, I'll be apples, but that's no excuse for slacking off the rest of the week. Like I said, no carry-overs. Each day I owe myself those 1,500 words. But to earn that cinema ticket, I'll just be looking at the weekly total, not how evenly-spread it is.

And yes, I have already set up the MS Excel spreadsheet to track my word count progress.

###

There we have it. What are your resolutions and goals for this year?

Goodbye to all that

2010-12-31T22:19:00.017Z

What else could I post on Hogmanay but a yearly round-up?

First up: a review of 2010's writing goals which were listed here, if you can stand to get through such a rambling post.

Regular working hours.
Fail. I had a couple of weeks here and there where I was disciplined, but an overall big, red X for me on this one.

Edit and sub Book #4 to a particular publisher and, all being well, send them Book #2.
Here I was talking about By the Book, which sold to Loose Id and is released in four days. Book #2 was Dark-Adapted Eyes which I'm thinking of trunking, rewriting or cannibalising. Not sure, yet. Hmm... *strokes chinbeard*

Use Book #3 as agent-bait.
Referring to Plus One here. I didn't sub it to agents at all! I decided to keep my name current, try to build a name for myself and sold it to Carnal Passions instead. It was released last month.

Five publishing contracts (for the purposes of this item, these contracts can be for novels or novellas).
Three, for Long Time Coming, Plus One and By the Book (purchase links on my 'books by' page above). Does a revise-and-resubmit on my vampire story count? Currently at 47k, it'll be well into full-length novel territory by the time I'm happy with it. So we'll say kinda success. Three and a half contracts.

Write four complete novels.
Fail, fail, fail.

Rewrite my trunk novel as a novella.
Win. Except, as mentioned above, it became a category-length book, and will grow still further during revisions. I'm confident of selling this in 2011.

Write 500k words.
Less said about this the better.

2009 was a writing year. 2010 was an editing year. 2011 will combine the two more evenly.

Read 150 books.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy. I bought an ereader (Sony Touch edition) in February so most of my reads have been ebooks, and those tend to be shorter than print books, but even so, 180 is a very respectable total. Favourite reads to be listed later.

###

So 2010 was the year in which I became a published author. It all kicked off on Monday, 8th March when Carnal Passions decided Leonardo Thomas Carson and his gay parakeet with Tourette's (yes, really) deserved to be splurted across the intertubes.

I still can't believe I got away with the parakeet thing, but hey, who am I to argue if someone shoves a contract up my emailhole?

In August I sold another two books - within four days of each other. By the Book sold first, but isn't out yet. Plus One sold last and jumped the gun, release-wise.

###

So, yeah. It's been a successful year, but I look back and see areas where I coulda woulda shoulda done better - primarily with regard to self-discipline. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining - ingratitude for one's achievements makes me want to hurt people, after all - but it's something to work on in the new year.

I could have been more productive if only I'd knuckled down and treated writing like a job as well as a career. No need to beat myself up, though. I've come a long way, baby.

###

Other highlights?

Discovering the wonders of Being Human. I say 'wonders'. I mean Aidan Turner. Regardez. I have Sue Laybourn to thank for me seeing the light. I say 'light'. I mean Aidan's lovely, lovely, lovely face.
Richard Armitage. What? Whaaaaat? I've only ever watched one episode of Spooks but it was a good 'un. I'm pretty pissed off at myself for only discovering the lovely Dick (fnarr) as his character was written out, but hey, that's why baby Jesus invented DVDs, right?
Getting cover art with mantitty from Christine M. Griffin. Although, having said that, Amanda Kelsey came up trumps with my first two pieces of cover art, for Long Time Coming and Plus One. It's not for nothing I am a total Kelsey fangirl.

I ranted about shitty BDSM fiction and will continue to do so for as long as it's a fetid carbuncle on the spotty arse of the genre. If any BDSM authors are offended by what I say in the posts entitled Consent matters and Instant dom - just add water! then they're perfectly welcome to either not read my blog, or stop writing stalker-doms who rape their subs and call it BDSM.

I also ranted about the difference between erotica and porn - and yes, there is a difference - and people who think it takes ages to edit a book.

But with a tendency to rant, comes a tendency to rave, and rave I did - about words and what they can do. Anais Nin's letter to the Collector. Why I love writing mottos.

I like to post something inspirational from time to time. Honest I do.

And I like to clear the shit out of my life at any time of the year, not just in December. Streamlining is a good thing and if it doesn't serve me, it's gone baby gone.

###

As I got my reading mojo back, why not talk about books I enjoyed? It's a given I'll say anything by Marie Sexton, with a (dis)honourable mention going to Strawberries for Dessert, because it's Cole's story, darlings. And yours truly has a mention on the dedication page.

And it made me cry both times I read it.

Samhain publications enjoyed this year included: Ship of Dreams by Reilly Ryan and not just because one of the guys on the cover looks like Joaquin Phoenix. I emailed the author to tell her how much I'd enjoyed it. She replied, which made me squee like a silly little fangirl. Fell in love with Arjen and Maikel from Aislinn Kerry's Blood and Roses. Cried like a baby at Lauren Dane's Always. I have a complaint about Scarlet Blackwell's Just Desserts and Second Helpings - they were too damn short! SH especially made me laugh out loud. Honourable mentions also go to Dakota Flint's Seeing You, K. A. Mitchell's No Souvenirs and Dawn McClure's Azazel. And yes, I know - most of these books are M/M, with the exception of Always and Azazel, that is. I love men who love men. Sue me.

The standout from Lyrical Press, for me, was Lux Zakari's Coercion. You won't regret buying and reading this.

And now to one of my publishers - Loose Id, LLC. Of course I'm gonna say this, but God damn I love their books. As soon as I started buying them...well, let's just say my bank account is much smaller than it would have been, had this publisher never come into existence.

More M/M! Kate McMurray's In Hot Pursuit was the shizzle, as was Ash Penn's Stray. (I mention Ash in the acknowledgements to By the Book as well - for all her help with my quest for an ITIN. Still waiting on that, still waiting...) And for the love of Christ, you have to read L. M. Turner's Resistance. I don't know anyone who's read this who hasn't loved it. And thank you, thank you, thank you, Cherise Sinclair for writing BDSM fiction that doesn't make me want to put my fist through a brick wall. I mean, I like pain, but not that much... Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. The Dom's Dungeon. Buy it. Read it. Touch yourself. But don't come, slut. It's not for nothing that I have three more of her books on my ereader and I'm itching to get to them.

Onto print books. Far fewer read this year than others. Why? Well. My ereader and my addiction to erotic romance.

But some paper-and-ink books I loved were Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why, Ian McEwan's Atonement, Mark Billingham's Sleepyhead and Camilla Noli's The Mother's Tale.

I also enjoyed Alison Weir's The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn, despite her complete 180 on the matter of where Anne falls on the virgin/whore spectrum. Perhaps because of this.

Another historical book I enjoyed, though a novel this time, was Suzannah Dunn's The Confession of Katherine Howard. I even blogged about it here.

The Power by Rhonda Byrne. Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I liked it.

I re-read Anne Enright's The Gathering this year and got a lot more out of it this time around, even if she did seem overly-obsessed with bodily fluids and genitals.

Mrs Fry's Diary by...well, Mrs Stephen Fry, made me laugh out loud. A very quick read, and most enjoyable.

And let's just say anyone who doesn't enjoy Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day is no friend of mine. The. Man. Is. A. God.

If you want to check out any of the print books I mention, I'm afraid you'll have to seek 'em out yourself. I'm not posting Amazon links because I despise that site and everything it stands for. I'm quite happy to take any royalties it earns me, but that's it. They're not getting any of my money, and will have to make do with any publicity this little section of my blog generates.

###

So that was 2010. I have goals in mind for 2011 but I'll save those for another post. To wrap it up, here are two of my favourite discoveries of 2010.

And a happy new year to you all.

Excerpt from BY THE BOOK: their first kiss

2010-12-30T23:13:00.007Z

Reece and Daniel's first kiss, taken from chapter seven.

This takes place right after Daniel's been talking about his smexy angel wings tattoo, visible on the cover.

Cover art by Christine M. Griffin

In this extract, he is, bear in mind, shirtless. Rawr!

***

"Shall I tell you why you’re so jittery?" Daniel bit his lip, paused as if wondering whether or not he should go on. Then he jumped. "You’re wondering if I’m going to kiss you."

"You what?"

"That wasn’t a denial." He took another step closer. "Well? Am I right or wrong?"

"Just because I…" I couldn’t handle the mocking in his eyes. He knew more than I was willing to acknowledge. "This isn’t… I mean I can’t…"

"Can’t you?" Daniel’s brows quirked. "What can’t you?" he asked with a taunting lift of his chin.

Mute and rooted to the spot, I silently bade him continue. Silently bade him stop. Please stop. Oh, there were a thousand and one reasons why this was a bad idea, and I couldn’t remember any of them.

Daniel moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, then reached up to my neck.

I shook my head without shaking it, moved it slowly from side to side, fighting to calm the maelstrom of thoughts and guilt and what-ifs in my mind. But each time I turned my head, even one degree, I moved under Daniel’s hand and the halfhearted attempt to say no, I can’t became a reminder of how much I wanted to say yes.

If Daniel’s hand hadn’t been on me, if he’d been standing only a foot farther back, if there had been more air between us, maybe I would have been able to breathe, but the slow back and forth of his thumb on my jaw hypnotized me into silent compliance.

"You know something," he murmured, inching closer, ever closer until even daylight wouldn’t get between us. "I’ve been wondering what it would be like to kiss you for a while."

Oh God, this isn’t why I came here, I --

"And you’ve been thinking of the same thing."

Every time you speak, I forget myself.

"We should do something about it." Daniel dipped his head, drew back, furrowed his brow, and I thought, surely he can’t be nervous; he’s Daniel Cross, but he wanted to make sure I was sure. Again he inclined his head, his thumb’s rhythmic back and forth slowing still further, and I couldn’t stop myself moistening my lips, whether in readiness for his kiss or simply because being close to Daniel made me nervous.

His hand on my waist made me jump, and the short path to its resting place on the curve of my hip blazed a trail of electricity. When I gasped, Daniel closed the distance between us by pulling me in closer, and in an instant I thought, no, he’ll be able to tell just how --

And despite the fact that we both wore jeans, he couldn’t hide how hard he was.

"I know you want this," he whispered, so close his breath warmed my skin. "Just let me…"

I’ve never kissed a -- Oh God. My resistance, such as it was, melted away when his bottom lip dragged over mine. The gentleness of the kiss was incongruous with his stubble. Though soft rather than prickly, it was a constant reminder that I was kissing -- or being kissed by -- a man. But I didn’t care because that man was Daniel.

He rested his forehead against mine, breathing deeply but slowly, and his mouth curved into a smile. Still cradling my neck with one hand, his fingers flinched, making my skin tingle. "There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

***

There. Daniel Fucking Cross in action.

He will be available in his naked entirety this coming Tuesday, January 4th, from Loose Id, LLC, right hyuh.

L.T.C. stands for...

2010-12-25T00:48:00.003Z

...Leo takes Christmas.

Sorry, it was the best I could come up with at short notice. Today - okay, yesterday, as it's now after midnight - I received the print copies of Long Time Coming which had been delayed due to bad weather conditions, postal depots having a backlog, etc.

Yes, I did the flick-and-sniff. Fresh paper and ink, mmm!

Yes, I read a few pages here and there and thought, "Hey, this is actually good." And there's nothing arrogant about that. Of course it's good - someone was willing to offer me a contract to publish it. Folks have shelled out to buy it. I've got a right to feel damn proud of myself.

It's pretty cool that I got to hold in my sweaty little paws, the print copy of my first published novel on Christmas Eve.

And this is why I write: something exists that wasn't here before I came.

Here's to much more filth being written, contracted, sold and enjoyed in 2011!

Long Time Coming is available in ebook or print format from Carnal Passions.

By the Book - cover art

2010-12-19T19:02:00.004Z

My cover artist was Christine Griffin, and the book will be available from Loose Id on the 4th of January.

*continues drooling over Daniel's tattoo*

My four

2010-12-19T16:04:00.004Z

Lia tagged me, blogwise!

1. Four shows that you watch:

Being Human (Don't pretend you're shocked).
Rome (Okay, it's finished now, but I have the complete box set).
The Tudors (Historically inaccurate, but Jonathan Rhys Meyers disrobes with alarming regularity).
QI (Or pretty much anything with Stephen Fry in it).

2. Four things you are passionate about:

The English language
Solitude
Honesty
Self-improvement

3. Four phrases you say a lot:

"Mightily!"
"I would do him so fucking hard." (No prizes for guessing...)
"Suck my fat one."
"A cup of tea would be nice."

4. Four things you’ve learned from the past:

I'm not willing to sacrifice my honesty on the altar of someone else's ego.
Just because something hurts doesn't mean it's not the right thing to do.
The only way out is through.
Always give of your best, whether you're submitting a manuscript or merely writing a quick note to someone, because dedication to getting things right will speak volumes for you.

5. Four places you would like to go:

Florence
Sydney
Paris
Dublin (Shut up, Sue).

6. Four things you did yesterday:

Worked on revisions for my vampire novel
Did the dishes
Squeeflailed over By the Book's cover art
Ate loads of crisps. (Productive day, obviously).

7. Four things you are looking forward to:

The menopause (No, really. I never want children so I can't wait 'til my reproductive organs get the message).
January 4th, 2011. Danielgeddon.
My next publication contract. It's coming. Oh, it's coming...
My next chocolate bar.

8. Four things you love about winter:

Sitting by the window watching electrical storms and snowfall.
Having an excuse for not leaving the house for days on end.
The year end coming up. Hogmanay always gives me a sense of hope.
Laughing at other people getting into debt over Christmas.

9. Four bloggers who should share their list of fours:

And because Lia does this on her blog and I want to be just like her when I grow up:

Currently Reading: Mrs Fry's Diary by Mrs Stephen Fry

Feeling Human

2010-12-14T01:40:00.005Z

Boy do I feel good after a highly traumatic time. My baby's come home! Yeah; I'm sad enough to be that attached to my netbook. It recently experienced the BSoD (that's Blue Screen of Death to any fortunates who have never had their machine put them through the wringer like this) and refused to boot up again, so into the computer hospickle it went. There were some problems retrieving the data on it, which I had religiously backed up anyway so I told the computer tech just to strip it, give it a lobotomy and I'd reinstall everything myself at home.

You do all back up your files at regular intervals, right?

Good.

It's not all been computer-based problems causing my blood pressure to skyrocket, however. No, a one Mr. Aidan Turner has also been responsible for me feeling a bit funny in the head and other bitz.

Thanks to Sue Laybourn introducing me to the TV show Being Human, I have been converted. I now see the light. For months now I've thought 'meh', but the other day I caught a link to an interview with The Turner, discovered something about him I hadn't known, and promptly emailed Sue to say, "He's Irish? Why the fuck didn't you tell me he's Irish?"

Yes. I am that fickle, easy to please and flighty. Sue me.

She blogged about the show here.

One quote from her blogisode:

BH is a compelling combination of brilliant writing and top class acting. The story carries humor, pathos, tragedy, darkness and light with no effort at all. There are moments that made me cry, moments that had me giggling helplessly and moments where all I could do was stare, open-mouthed, at the screen. I can't remember the last time a television programme has done that to me. It's also rare for something I've watched to linger with me long after the closing credits have rolled.

So it's not all about the eyecandy. Honest!

The other day when I was in town I thought about buying the DVD of Being Human as I had a bit of money to burn - yes, the advance cheque for By the Book HOLLA!!! Lo and behold, Seasons 1 & 2 as a box set, £25, thank you and goodnight Vienna. Only seen the first three episodes so far but I can confirm two things:

Aidan Turner is my new favourite Irishman (sorry Colin and Jonathan).
Everything Sue said about the show above, is correct.

I cried at one scene which didn't even have Aidan Turner in it and no, it wasn't because Aidan Turner wasn't in it. The writing, the acting, the atmosphere, everything about the scene packed such an emotional punch. George (the werewolf) and Annie (the ghost) sat by the window, talking about people they'd loved, people they'd lost and yes, Scarlett 'Cold, Black Heart' Parrish teared up.

The great thing about this show is it isn't all tragedy and it isn't all comedy; there's the perfect balance between the two which reflects real life...which is weird, given that it's about a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost...but anyhoo...

"I killed it."
"You killed it?"
"With...a shoe."
"You killed a pigeon with a shoe?"

Okay, you had to be there. Try this on for size:

"Tully's a twat."
"Yeah, but he's my twat!"
"Oh-kay...that probably sounded better in your head."

In short, I cannot believe it's taken me so long to discover such a refreshing, entertaining, intelligent TV show. Neither can I believe it took a recommendation from a friend who lived on another continent when she first saw it, but there you go. Better late than never, and this way I don't have to wait another week to see the following episode; I have all twelve on DVD and the new series, I am told, starts in January.

Which means the rest of my month will be spent binging on the loveliness of this guy...er, purely to catch up on Being Human before the new series starts, you understand:

Oh, it's a bind.

But I think I'll manage.

More Dick, anyone?

2010-12-05T16:11:00.000Z

Groovy

2010-12-04T23:56:00.005Z

For the groove is what I are in.

Months of writing next to no fresh material and what happens today? Just a few words shy of 3k. I've been trying to get back into Family Jewels for a while now. Tried a routine. Tried writing out of the house. Tried writing in different rooms in the house. Well, the stars must have been in the correct alignment today. Whatever it was, I ain't gonna question it. Chapter eighteen is now complete, and the novel is 50% done. That's as long as Devon Fucking Scott doesn't decide I need to add any more chapters to the outline.

*glares at male MC*

Anyhoo. Today also marks one calendar month until Danielgeddon strikes. And yes, I'm bouncing up and down with anticipation for my cover art. As soon as I receive it, I'll squeeflail all over this blog. As soon as I'm given the go-ahead, I'll post it all over this blog.

Aside from that, not much else to report, but I'm doing well. Feeling like a writer again. And here is a Shannon:

Random update

2010-11-27T22:25:00.005Z

I don't want to bump the Richard Armitage video down the page but I need to make an effort to blog more often, lest people think I've fallen off the intertubes and go into mourning.

*coughyeahrightcough*

Daniel Cross today enjoyed some more polishing. Just a couple of points here and there in the manuscript, whether or not to italicise this text for emphasis, insert a word here for clarity, delete that one as unnecessary. It took minutes, and he was done.

I hope.

So Danielgeddon is still on schedule for January 4, as the sidebar on Lia Booke's blog will attest.

Yep. Cross Bones, the Unofficial Daniel Fucking Cross fanclub, is in session. All of its...one...members are (is) squeeflailing in excitement by starting a countdown on their (her) blog.

You never know. Cross Bones may pick up a few more members soon. Hope so!

Still not back in first draft mode. I reckon I just have to put November down as a bust. However, I'm feeling a wee bit more optimistic about my chances of knuckling down and seeing 'the end' within the next few weeks. I aim to have Family Jewels in a state of readiness-for-submission by the new year. (By the end of December I'll probably regret saying that but hey, fail to plan, you plan to fail, right)?

Getting a lot more reading done, so it's not all bad. Thus far I've read 160 books in 2010 and my target was 150. One goal from way back in January reached, and well over a month early! Sure, most of those reads were ebooks which tend to be shorter than print novels, but I've well and truly got my reading mojo back.

Now, back to work for me!

After...Jared, who's been sadly absent from this blog of late.

GOD I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MAN WITH EYES AS BEAUTIFUL AS HIS.

This definitely says 'FIX', right?

2010-11-24T23:44:00.001Z

Spencer's here

2010-11-18T21:41:00.005Z

Not that I plan on covering my blog with "Hey - new book!" announcements each time one of my books appears on a new ebook-selling site, but allow me this one blog post for the release of Plus One. (I originally blogged about the cover art and blurb here).

Doctor Spencer Flynn splurted across the universe today, and now appears for purchase (the whore!) on the Carnal Passions website here, or on allromance ebooks right hyuh. As the book appears on other third party sites, I'll add links to the 'Books by Scarlett Parrish' page above.

The last word should come from James Purefoy, methinks:

Because I'm all heart...

2010-11-13T21:55:00.007Z

...I've decided to use my blog to introduce Tara Lain to the wonder that is Shannon Leto. She has a thing for men in eyeliner - guyliner, you could say - as evidenced by this blog post hyuh.

And no-one wears it like Shannon.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Scarlett; there's nothing altruistic about this at all. You're just whipping up some flimsy excuse to post photos of Shannon Leto in guyliner on your blog."

Well you'd be right.

Making the mundane extraordinary

2010-11-10T15:20:00.003Z

I had a conversation with a friend the other day about writers who make the mundane extraordinary and she said some very kind (possibly flattering) things about a scene in Plus One (published soon) in which Lydia waits at home for Spencer to arrive. She said, "Everyone who's been on a first date knows that feeling. The pacing, the clock-watching, the listening to the traffic outside."

That was good to hear (or should I say, read in the email), because it touched on one of my writerly ambitions, to write prose that makes the reader think, "Ah. Yes! I know that." When you write about the mundane, you don't have to be boring.

I have to mention Ian McEwan (again) at this point. I quoted part of The Child in Time in my previous blogisode but I recently read something else which blew me away:

Then the house was quiet but for the baritone hum of kitchen equipment.

Only one sentence, but the phrase 'baritone hum' made me sit back and think, "Wow. That's just..."

What I love about McEwan's prose is his ability to do just what I spoke about above. He makes the mundane extraordinary. He takes something everyday that we might otherwise ignore or pass over without much thought, and makes us say, "Yes. I know that."

Who hasn't sat alone in an empty house, silent but for that...what is it? Whirring? The buzz...no, that's not it. Ah! The baritone hum.

Books like this don't make me feel sad that "I could never write like that," which is defeatist. If you thought like that, you'd be as well giving up now, or else settling for mediocrity.

Every time I read a chapter, a paragraph, a sentence, that distills something indescribably familiar, something made bland by its perpetual thereness, into prose that sings, my heart leaps.

Coming out...

2010-11-07T13:39:00.005Z

...as a writer.

I'm guest blogging over at Dawn's Reading Nook on that very subject today. Have a look, leave a comment, send me hate mail, whatever thou so pleaseth.

I'll be right over here, reading Ian McEwan's The Child in Time. No-one will ever steal my heart from Kazuo Ishiguro, but damn, McEwan's good. I'd be seething with jealousy if I wasn't so awestruck by his skill.

When he was out he dreaded returning to the deadly alignments of familiar possessions, the way the empty armchairs squatted, the smeared plates and newspapers at their feet. It was the stubborn conspiracy of objects - lavatory seat, bed sheets, floor dirt - to remain exactly as they had been left. At home too he was never far from his subjects, his daughter, his wife, what to do. But here he lacked the concentration for sustained thought. He daydreamed in fragments, without control, almost without consciousness.

-Ian McEwan, The Child in Time.

It never rains...

2010-11-03T22:33:00.004Z

Bad blogger is bad.

I'm kept awake at night by the sound of everyone in the blogosphere sobbing at the delay since my last blogisode.

No, really.

Oh, all right then. Not at all.

So. This is what happens when you sell two books within four days of each other - you end up editing both on the same afternoon/evening.

I'd just returned the second round edits of By the Book when I was called upon to see to some tweakage of Plus One. All being well, this will be out in a week or two. BTB still on for January.

I needed something to give me a kick up the bum and get me back into first draft mode and editing two erotic romance novels in the same day has me itching to get back to writing fresh material. I've got punctuation marks and comment balloons floating before my eyes. I need a fresh 'n' clean MS Word docx - STAT!

Can also report that I made someone very, very happy today with the dedication to By the Book. While she squeeflails over Daniel Fucking Cross, the rest of the world will just have to wait until January 4, 2011.

I do hope Richard Armitage will keep you all happy in the meantime.

Want to get your hands on Leo?

2010-10-25T22:36:00.006+01:00

Well now you can.

Long Time Coming is available in print from Carnal Passions, right hyuh.

That should keep you perverts going until Plus One is released next month.

Piper Holt’s only after one thing: a man who’s only after one thing. Previous lovers demanded either subservience or her heart, neither of which are up for negotiation, so Leo Carson's attitude makes him her ideal match. Handsome, shameless and equally impulsive, he appears to want nothing more than a white-hot overnight liaison.

'Overnight' somehow develops into the entire weekend but come Monday morning, pride keeps her back turned and Piper walks away. Denying her own feelings doesn't mean that Leo has none though, and if she's going to atone for hurting him she'll have to admit the 'one thing' she now wants is the man she's in danger of losing forever.

###

I only live to bring you filth, dear readers. Only to bring you filth.

I'd rather be busy than bored

2010-10-24T19:48:00.005+01:00

...as I often say, and this week I got my wish.

I've dealt with the first round edits for By the Book and the edits for Plus One. The latter should be released sometime within the next couple of weeks. Daniel fans? Sorry; you'll have to wait until the new year. Any change and I'll be sure to let you know.

Being a UK-based writer with an American publisher, I'm still waiting on my ITIN, but my passport was returned safe and well so I assume that means the rest of my paperwork has been forwarded to the IRS. Now I just need to sit back and hope the good ol' American tax office comes through for me. More news on that as it happens. I'll probably do a dedicated blog post when I finally get my prize, for the benefit of other UK writers. (Actually I should say British writers as I would assume the exact details of filling in the paperwork would be different for those in Ireland; treaty article numbers and so on...I know. Snoreworthy but the details are important).

As for other writing? I crossed the 30k mark of Family Jewels this week and about bloody time too. I wrote the first word of this in June this year. June! I ask you! Sure, I revised BTB in that time, edited my vampire novella, also revised my shapeshifter novel...Still. A new first draft is long overdue.

Still undecided on NaNoWriMo. A surprising number of people I know aren't doing it this year. For me, personally, 50k in a month is no longer a challenge, if it ever was, so I'm in two minds. Added to which there's no way I'll be finished FJ by the first of November so it would mean abandoning Devon again while I see to another story. Sure, I could finish it and count those words toward my NaNo total, but that would be cheating in a sense. You're supposed to start a new project rather than continuing with an 'old' one. Yes, the whole thing works on an honours system but I see no point in signing up unless you're going to follow the rules and play the game that was originally intended.

I've changed my mind eleventy billion times in the last week alone and I'll probably continue to do so right up until midnight on the 1st November. At this moment, I'm leaning towards 'not', purely because I'm halfway through a project which I'm unlikely to finish before next month and I don't want to put it on 'pause' yet again, for the sake of a new book. Yes, I'll have deadlines and other matters to deal with in November, but those aren't really an issue. With some strict time-management I'd be able to see to my contractual obligations and bang out 50k words at least, but I've become the sort of writer who doesn't like having a backlog.

And that's exactly what Devon Scott has become.

He doesn't like it.

He doesn't like it one bit.

I, on the other hand, like James Purefoy. A lot.

Title change

2010-10-20T23:36:00.004+01:00

Today I received the good news that my favourite alternate title got the go-ahead, so what was The Devil You Know is now By the Book.

Ironically, this was the very first title the book had; I changed it to TDYK while writing a chapter describing Daniel Cross's tattoo (all will become clear when you buy the book, heh heh).

It seems my characters were correct after all. I should have listened to them. And back we go to their story's original title.

Also, Jared Leto is hot.

Consent matters

2010-10-17T14:19:00.008+01:00

Please feel free to pass around a direct link to this blog post, either on Twitter or by email. People need to get angry about what's happening here.

I've previously ranted about this topic here:

Instant dom - just add water!

Sadly, it's time for me to let off steam about this very subject again. Regrettable, but either no BDSM authors have read my rants, or they're not paying attention, because it's still happening.

Authors are still writing books about kidnap, rape and Stockholm Syndrome and calling it BDSM.

Think I'm joking? In recent weeks I've read novels and novellas containing such delightful scenes as:

Mistaken identity leading to the wrong woman being tied up but the guy is so good-looking she doesn't actually mind when he fucks her, and his cock's so big, and she comes, and he doesn't really hurt her, so it must be okay, right?
Women (because it's usually women in the books I've read) with submissive tendencies who meet guys who come over all "I ar dom," so they wilt like the delicate flowers they are in the face of such manly manliness and immediately go into 'blind obedience' mode.
A complete fucking rampant absence of safe words or pre-sexin' discussion of hard and soft limits.
A woman letting a man tie her up on the same day they've met, just because a friend said he seemed like a nice guy. We're not talking light bondage. We're talking heavy duty binding. With knotted ropes.

Now, you could justifiably say, "But Scarlett - if these books so infuriate you, why read them?"

My answer to that is threefold.

One doesn't know how good or bad a book is until one reads it and once begun, such fiction as I have described above becomes the ebook equivalent of car-crash-television.
It would be pretty arrogant of me to write BDSM fiction without actually reading any.
Some twisted, masochistic part of me is compelled to read this stuff just so I can pick out what's wrong - dangerously wrong - with the genre and warn people: THIS IS NOT WHAT BDSM IS.

Sounds like a crusade, huh? Well it is in part.

But who the hell am I to take such a crusade upon my shoulders? Oh, no-one special. Just a woman who recognises that although we're dealing with fiction, we should in no way perpetuate the myth that BDSM requires no safety measures. (Hell, if anything, it requires trust and intimacy of a level not found in vanilla partnerships).

If you're curious about the lifestyle, you'd have to be pretty damn foolhardy to take your guidelines from BDSM-fic, at least with the state the genre's in at the moment, but that's no excuse to drop standards.

I know. I sound judgemental, don't I?

You'd be right. I am. When I read books that say, "This is BDSM," when it would be more accurate to say, "This is sexual abuse, rape, kidnap or Stockholm Syndrome and a gross misrepresentation of safe, sane and consensual BDSM," I judge. Yes, I judge. And I weep.

I know there are people out there who have rape fantasies, who like it real rough and play with the perceived absence of consent. Am I judging such folk? Hell. No.

What really boils my piss is actual, real, violent, abusive rape - oh sorry; I mean forced seduction - appearing in fiction and the female main character being so overcome with lust for the good looks and sexual prowess of the rapist that she reasons, "Well he's not so bad, and hey, he's really good in bed, so even though he forced himself on me, it's okay. I mean, I'm only a woman so I don't know my own mind and it takes a real man to kidnap me, tie me to the bed and fuck me up the arse to show me I really do want my will to be subsumed to that of some random guy I've just fallen instantly in love with."

Aaaaand breathe...

If you have rape fantasies, discuss them with your partner, set limits, decide on safe words, talk about timescale, setting, level-of-roughness and so on? No problem. Go for it. Honestly. I have no problem with such play.

If you think that a woman being forced into sex is a romantic way to persuade her into the BDSM lifestyle? You are one very sick and twisted individual who is skirting the very borders of all that is safe, sane, consensual, moral, loving and legal.

CONSENT MATTERS.

Submissions call-out from Carnal Passions/Champagne Books

2010-10-17T02:45:00.002+01:00

This was just emailed out to all Carnal Passions and Champagne Books authors and we were invited to post it on our blogs and websites:

Carnal Passions – we are in need of m/m and m/f novellas and BDSM at the moment. We are also accepting other genres for our erotic imprint.

Champagne Books – we are in need of Sci-fi, Fantasy, Western Historical, Contemporary Romance, Paranormal and Steampunk at the moment. We are also accepting other genres for this imprint.

For both imprints, we are looking for something unique in the vampire sub genre. We are not looking for manuscripts that closely resemble the Twilight series.

Judy Gill is our Acquisitions Manager. Please put in your cover letter that you are responding to the submissions call put out by me*.

Champagne Books and Carnal Passions are e-book publishers. Please check out our submission guidelines. www.champagnebooks.com www.carnalpassions.com

*The 'me' mentioned being Kat Hall.

Plus One: cover art

2010-10-13T17:58:00.003+01:00

Something doesn’t add up...

Lydia's looking for a job not a lover, but after her interview at Saint Joseph's University, she ends up with both. There's a need for discretion despite her bright pink hair and Doctor Spencer Flynn's candy apple red Mustang; after all, she's an admin assistant now, he's a lecturer in applied mathematics and they work together. So they conduct their liaisons behind closed doors which is all right with Lydia; she's never experienced chemistry like it.

‘Discreet’ soon begins to look a lot like ‘secretive’ and a last-minute cancellation of a date prompts Lydia to rethink her role in the relationship. Braced for a break-up, she's amazed when Spencer confesses the secret he's been keeping all along. His loyalties are divided and when Lydia's attempts to hold on to his attention backfire publicly, she wonders if playing house with a mathematician is a zero-sum game...

Available November 2010 from Carnal Passions.

Title change

2010-10-10T22:32:00.002+01:00

Sunday evening and I've been struggling all weekend against a migraine. Edging with pain as opposed to pleasure. The worst of it seems to be over so fingers crossed this coming week will be a productive one.

Regarding books already contracted as opposed to the one I'm currently writing, the title of The Devil You Know will be changing before publication. Simply a matter of a similarly-titled book already being in my publisher's catalogue so to make both books easily distinguishable, the newer book's title changes. It's undecided as yet, but we have a shortlist of possibles, so will let you know as soon as I do and I get the go-ahead from my editor.

Devon Scott is still messing with the outline of Family Jewels but I think I have it more or less tamed. (Stop laughing, Devon). Certain events are set in stone; at least their order is. We can't have the black moment before the first kiss, for example. But I'm sure Devon won't be...er...tied down.

Wish me luck. I hope to get this book finished this month!

For no other reason than I feel like it, here's my current earworm. Thought I'd share. And who wouldn't enjoy a few minutes of Reznor?

Is it just me or is it hot in here?

2010-10-08T01:19:00.008+01:00

So Her Satanic Majesty, the Crown Princess of Buttsecks, the One, the Only Looooori Witt, got me outlining.

As if that wasn't bad enough, The Dom Devon decided to fuck my outline like it was cuffed to his bed and begging for the hot wax treatment.

*sigh*

While I was revising The Devil You Know and Dark-Adapted Eyes, Devon's book, Family Jewels, was put to one side. Devon Scott does not appreciate being sidelined, not even for Daniel Cross or a bunch of bisexual shape-shifters.

So, he sat back and gave the matter some thought. His author must be punished.

As such, I've spent the past few days reading over what I have of FJ, tweaking passages (fnarr) here and there to emphasise Devon's dommyness (that's a real word) and wondering how, when I first decided to write his story, I could ever not have seen that he's a top, Riley's Master, the one for whom she kneels, her Sir, her owner, a - her - dom.

Devon Scott being vanilla is as likely as James Purefoy waking up tomorrow and being ugly.

Unpossible, I think you'll agree.

Not content with such chapter-tweakage, Devon then decided to whisper things in my ear. "This is what's going to happen. You're not going to look at me. You're going to sit down and type. Don't question me, don't contradict me and never, ever forget, I own this book."

Quite.

Yesterday evening I went through my notes and outline, rearranging chapters, deleting some scenes, adding still others and somewhere along the way my projected word count for this book jumped from 50-some thousand to 65k.

Hmm. Not bad, but I'm askeered of what Sir will do to my outline at a later date. I have a feeling he's the type to let me feel safe then hit me with a leather flogg- er, I mean, few extra chapters.

I dread to think what he'll do to the editor to whom I eventually sub this book. He's already getting twitchy. "Me? Sub? That'll be fucking right- oh, you mean on sub? Well, I'm usually in a sub, but...just don't let them think they can tell me how to appear on the page."

Oh yeah. He'll be trouble. I bet he expects me to sign the contract "Scarlett Parrish, Devon's whore," and give him a cut of the royalties.

Bastard.

Anyway. Better get back to work. Sir calls.

Meanwhile, crash, crash, buuuuurn, watch Jared burn:

Another novel revised

2010-10-03T03:36:00.006+01:00

I should probably make an effort to blog more often - not because I think I have anything particularly astounding to say, but it's good to keep one's blog and/or website active. People need to know you're not dead, or anything inconvenient like that.

With that in mind - update! I've finally revised Dark-Adapted Eyes into something approximating submission standard, and boy oh boy am I glad that's done. It's been a bit of a journey to get here.

Years back, I wrote the first 50k of it, which I then abandoned. Ran out of steam, threw my hands up, gave in, surrendered. Discovered I was an erotica author, went back to it, added some smex, carried on with the characters, got to 'the end' at last.

It lay fallow for a year until I took it upon myself to edit it revisionwise, and it's taken me under two weeks to do so, which makes me wonder - why did I leave it so long? I guess because I've had so much else on my plate this year. Selling and editing other books, and my poor shape shifters didn't feature very prominently on my to-do list.

But dear God above, I hate editing. It's boring. The fun comes when you're discovering, not when you're polishing. For me, anyway. But it's done now. One necessary evil has passed, onto the next.

DUN DUN DUUUUUN.

The synopsis.

(Blarg).

My most recent shiny, shiny, new idea is being persistent. It has a confirmed title. I say confirmed. It may change. Two of the MCs have names. Scenes are tirelessly playing out in my head. Yep, this one's pretty high on my list of 'demanding ideas which I must write or go insane'.

Synopsis for DAE first, then finishing Family Jewels.

Again, I worry about running out of ideas. Again, I'm wrong.

James Purefoy, however, is always right.

A new timesucker and a new idea

2010-10-01T20:22:00.004+01:00

Aislinn Kerry is ebil.

That is all.

Oh, what? You were expecting a reason? Well, okay then. She sent me a link to 42goals, a site which I didn't even know existed an hour ago, but it looks like another timesucker and OCD-enabler. Charts, graphs, percentages, you name it. And given that it has a '42' in its title, I know of at least one other person who'd love it.

But enough of such nonsense. How goes my writing? Dark-Adapted Eyes is one chapter away from completion. I say 'completion'; that's without taking another read-through into account, but it'll be as near as damn it.

And oh, the joys of writing a synopsis...

Now, because I'm nearing the end of one project, my brain has decided to be helpful and drop a new idea into my life, conveniently forgetting the backlog/queue of other characters and stories which I still have. It popped into my head while I was out yesterday - premise, main characters, a couple of scenes and immediately felt at home, like, how could I ever not have known I was meant to write this book? In the past twenty-four hours it's gained a title, promptly changed it, pushed forward two of the MCs who now have names, and started that 'DVD player in my brain' thing whereby I space out and just...watch...scenes in my mind's eye.

And yes, Devon, I know. Once I'm finished with my shapeshifters I'll get back to your book. Don't worry. I was just telling my nice blog readers about my new, shiny idea. Don't look at me like that.

No, really.

Put the handcuffs down.

And the whip.

Devon...

*runs*

The four perverts of the erotipocalypse

2010-09-29T18:52:00.005+01:00

Namely Daniel, Spencer, Gabe and Devon from The Devil You Know, Plus One, Dark-Adapted Eyes and Family Jewels respectively.

I've dealt with the cover art, promo and blurb worksheets for The Devil You Know and was recently given a tentative release date. I haven't been forbidden from mentioning it in public, but I'll hold fire just now because these things can change. Suffice it to say Danielgeddon draws ever closer...

It's doubtful I'll be participating in NaNoWriMo this year simply because I have one book (Plus One) releasing in November and my deadline for the next round of edits on TDYK also occurs in that month, so while I could probably squeak past the 50k barrier, I'd be putting myself under a lot of pressure and at risk of migraines, so it's likely I'll give it a pass this year.

One never knows. I could be struck by a killer idea on the 31st October. Anything could happen!

As regards Dark-Adapted Eyes, I need to rejig one chapter, completely rewrite another, then I'm done - well, apart from the read-through, query and synopsis, but the bulk of the work will have been done. I groan about the synopsis but it never takes more than two days, all in. It's intense work, but over quickly.

Then it'll be back to Family Jewels. If I write like the wind, I might get all of the above dealt with by November, but I'd be jumping into NaNo with little if any down time in between projects and I like to catch my breath, so...

In previous years I've used NaNo as a way of disciplining myself, making myself write to a deadline, getting myself that much closer to a publication contract. Well, this November I'll have two to deal with, so I think that's a more than valid excuse for not participating.

There's nothing to stop me trying for 50k (or more) in December though, so we'll see.

So I've had a productive few days. Spencer and Daniel are that much closer to splurting over the intertubes. DAE is neeeeearly up to submission standard.

And I'm still dreading whatever The Dom Devon has in store for me when I return to Family Jewels. He's the type to demand his, er...pound of flesh...in return for me abandoning him and working on other projects...

How to make a sammich

2010-09-28T03:02:00.008+01:00

INSERT SCARLETT PARRISH HERE

Sorry. It's the only recipe I know.

I'm a glutton for punishment

2010-09-21T04:24:00.004+01:00

Because I'm an idiot, I've kinda sorta half-committed well all right then volunteered to edit my shapeshifter novel from last year (a year back? Already?) on top of everything else I've got going on. Well - I do often whinge about my lack of self-discipline when it comes to a regular writing schedule, so if this doesn't force me to knuckle down I don't know what will.

In the past two days I've managed to get a 126k first draft down to 101k. I was hoping for a final figure in the ball park of 75k but I can't see that happening. I've got approximately two thirds of the manuscript to mark-up with corrections, but can I lose another 25k words that way, especially when I need to add two scenes? I think not, but we'll see. If I manage to nickel-and-dime that much out of a manuscript by line-editing it, I expect prizes, plaudits and chocolate chip cookies.

Oh well. Looks like this will be one of my longer novels, then. Can't wait for the galleys and errata on that one.

Yes, I was being sarcastic.

But within hours of me making this departure from sanity, I received an email from someone who shall remain nameless called Lia, offering to beta-read said book when done.

Purely out of the goodness of your heart and nothing to do with a craving for more manlove, huh, Lia?

Aside from that, what am I up to? Well...there was a teeny weeny problem with Family Jewels which had been bugging me ever since I returned to its first draft. I'm big on making character motivations clear. I don't want readers to come away scratching their heads, wondering, "Why the hell did Character X do that?" If that's the case, I haven't done my job properly.

Buuuuut...there was a chapter late on in the book where Riley was supposed to do something and I couldn't figure out a way to make it look believable.

What does Devon do? Oh, now he steps in and says, "You've got the wrong person. I'll take care of this. Oh, but you'll need to re-jig a couple of the earlier chapters to lead up to me taking this action instead."

Well, thanks Mr. Scott. Thanks for not telling me this weeks ago.

Seriously, this guy is punishing me for dropping his first draft and working on revisions for TDYK. He's making me drag information out of him, information which he could have told me a while back and advised me to note down in readiness for my return to his book, but no. He's pissed off with me for 'cheating on him' with Daniel Fucking Cross and instead of saying "Okay, now you're back with me, here's what you need to know," he's...

He's crossing his arms, pouting, and refusing to talk about shit I need to know 'cause I'm the damn author.

Oh. He may claim he's smirking, but it's definitely a pout.

But that's not enough, dear readers. Definitely not enough for Devon Fucking Scott. As well as refusing to surrender vital information without a fight, he's also messing with my head by volunteering oh-so-kindly, suggestions for completely non-essential, frivolous I-swear-to-God-if-you-keep-making-me-add-chapters-to-my-outline-and-spark-off-other-plot-twists-which-take-this-damn-book-in-another-direction-and-extend-it-by-an-additional-10k-Devon-I-will-kill-you scenes.

And yes I do mean 'scenes' in the truest, BDSM-sense of the word.

I think this is why I'm allowing myself to be distracted by my shapeshifter novel. Devon's scaring me. Each minute spent working on another project is a minute he has to devise other ways to punish me, but...

...I's a-skeered.

I keep telling him, "Listen. Daniel's contracted. You're not. I had to work on him. I was legally required to. Deadlines, Devon - deadlines!"

But he's not having it.

*sigh*

Why do I do this to myself?

Writing mottos

2010-09-13T14:44:00.006+01:00

I already had an idea for this blogisode when I signed in to blogger and when I checked my dashboard, noticed this would be no. #200. No pressure to make it anything special, then!

Over the past few days I've noticed I collect writing mottos. Slogans that I scribble down in my precious Moleskine, a.k.a. BONER (Black Omnipresent Notebook of Erotic Romance) or write on a piece of card and pin to the corkboard above my desk.

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to share them here, then ask other writers what mottos and sayings they live by.

Write through the pain: A tad cheesy, perhaps, but I try to keep it in mind for those times I need to do something awful to my characters and my brain says "But I don't wanna!" Well, tough. If you protect your characters like that, you're God of your own universe, true enough, but you're failing to gift them with free will. Let them fuck up. Watch them do it. And grit your teeth while you write.

Of course, this also applies to taking your own experiences and putting them in a book. A painful break-up, a debilitating illness, any sort of emotional upheaval. There's a danger of coming across as one of those "But this is how it really happened!" writers if you go too far the other way. What I mean here is, don't report events exactly as they occurred; fiction must have a point. Real life rarely does. No, when you 'write through the pain' of using real life, you should take the emotions you felt, but tailor the actual events prompting them to your story. Not your life.

Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth. Kind of related to my above point. Don't report events, but tell the truth. Make the emotional impact on your characters real. Make the reader believe it. Don't give a laundry list of events and tell me, "This made X feel sad." Give me the truth of how he felt, why he took that action, the consequences he then experiences.

"Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures," as Jessamyn West once said. Give the reader something they can relate to, regardless of gender, age, religion, nationality. Tell the truth about being human.

Third, I recently re-read Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day and raved about it to...well, just about everyone I know. Naturally Lori was near the top of the list for people I forced to listen to my fangirl ravings. During the course of one conversation, I said something along the lines of "Ishiguro is an absolute master of subtlety and precision. He never overloads you with information. He gives you the bare minimum but the words he uses are perfect, perfect, perfect. Everything fits."

Hence my third motto, bolded above. It's common for writers to chant "Show, don't tell," and with good reason. Don't patronise the reader, nor spoonfeed them. That's where subtlety comes in. Never talk down to the reader - assume they'll 'get' what you're trying to say.

But balance that with precision. Don't be obscure. Use absolutely the closest-to-perfect word or phrase for the job. Cut deep, with a sharp blade. (Ooh, that's good. Motto #4 perhaps)? Leave little-to-no room for error in your work, nor in the reader's mind. Make him or her think, "Yes. Yes. I get that. I absolutely get it."

These two words might appear to be in opposition to one another at first. But really, they're not. One must be subtle to avoid patronising the reader, but precise in giving him all the information he needs to draw the correct conclusion about the story - and no more.

So. Those are my three current writing mottos. Do you have any, and how did you come to value them?

Honest

2010-09-08T02:19:00.005+01:00

I spotted this over at Stephen Parrish's (no relation) blog and it's too damn good not to ~~steal~~ re-post.

###

When he was two years old his family moved to Knob Creek, Kentucky when their farm in Hogdenville failed to support them.

When he was seven his family lost its title to the Knob Creek farm and moved to Indiana.

His mother died when he was nine.

When he was 18 his sister died in childbirth.

At age 21 he followed his family to Illinois in an effort to improve their desperate financial circumstances. A year later they moved again.

At 22 he became part owner of a retail store in New Salem, Illinois. It failed.

He was subsequently appointed postmaster of New Salem, until the position was eliminated.

He was 23 when he first ran for the Illinois state legislature. He lost. Two years later he ran again and won.

The following year his girlfriend died.

When he was 29 he ran for speaker of the Illinois House of Representatives. He lost.

He became engaged to a woman he met at a dance. Her family convinced her to end the engagement because they disapproved of him. A year later the two reconciled and married.

His wife became, in the vernacular of the time, insane.

At age 33 he ran for his party's nomination to the U.S. House of Representatives. He lost. Two years later he won the nomination and was elected to congress.

At the end of his term, by prior arrangement, he did not receive his party's nomination for reelection.

He then sought appointment as commissioner of the U.S. General Land Office. He was not selected.

At 41 his three-year-old son died of tuberculosis. Ten years later another son, age 11, would die of typhoid fever.

When he was 46 he ran for the U.S. Senate. He withdrew from the race to prevent a split in his party.

Three years later he ran again. He lost.

His next bid for public office, at age 51, was for the Presidency of the United States. He won.

Anais Nin's letter to the Collector

2010-08-31T23:14:00.002+01:00

"Dear Collector: We hate you. Sex loses all its power and magic when it becomes explicit, mechanical, overdone, when it becomes a mechanistic obsession. It becomes a bore. You have taught us more than anyone I know how wrong it is not to mix it with emotion, hunger, desire, lust, whims, caprices, personal ties, deeper relationships that change its colour, flavour, rhythms, intensities.

You do not know what you are missing by your microscopic examination of sexual activity to the exclusion of aspects which are the fuel that ignites it. Intellectual, imaginative, romantic, emotional. This is what gives sex its surprising textures, its subtle transformations, its aphrodisiac elements. You are shrinking your world of sensations. You are withering it, starving it, draining its blood.

If you nourished your sexual life with all the excitements and adventures which love injects into sensuality, you would be the most potent man in the world. The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. You are watching its little flame die of asphyxiation. Sex does not thrive on monotony. Without feeling, inventions, moods, no surprises in bed. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.

How much do you lose by this periscope at the tip of your sex, when you could enjoy a harem of distinct and never-repeated wonders? No two hairs alike, but you will not let us waste words on a description of hair; no two odours, but if we expand on this you cry Cut the poetry. No two skins with the same texture, and never the same light, temperature, shadows, never the same gesture; for a lover, when he is aroused by true love, can run the gamut of centuries of love lore. What a range, what changes of age, what variations of maturity and innocence, perversity and art...

We have sat around for hours and wondered how you look. If you have closed your senses upon silk, light, colour, odour, character, temperament, you must be by now completely shrivelled up. There are so many minor senses, all running like tributaries into the mainstream of sex, nourishing it. Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy."

Let's talk about sex #1 - Erotica v. Porn

2010-08-29T21:54:00.005+01:00

It's something erotica authors come up against with varying degrees of regularity. The P-word. The dirty word. Porn. "Oh, so you write porn, then?" Usually asked with a leer, waggling eyebrows and a joke about helping you out with your 'research'.

Some erotica writers would take offence at this. I am one. Why? Do I hate porn? Think it's evil? Believe it should be banned? Some of it's extremely distasteful, yes, but that's not my reason for objecting to people saying I write porn, or that all erotica is pornographic.

Let me explain.

I'm one of those who says there's a dividing line between porn and erotica. It's not the number of sex scenes that matters, nor the positions, how daring the couple are, hell, even if it's more than a couple - and yes; I've written a number of threesomes in my time. Buy The Devil You Know from Loose Id LLC, released around January 2011. Thank you. No, how I differentiate between the two is the purpose of the writing.

Porn gets the reader off. Erotica gets the characters off.

Every one of my sex scenes has a purpose. Every. Damn. One. I can sit down and tell you what each one is supposed to reveal about the characters, or how it moves the plot along. I'm concerned with the level of arousal of Piper and Leo in Long Time Coming or Lydia and Spencer in Plus One or Reece, Georgia, Daniel and Sarah (yes, really - threesomes, remember?) in The Devil You Know. Why do my sex scenes work? Because they all have a purpose beyond even getting the characters off. They do double duty. They serve the story. And yes, my books have stories.

I've occasionally heard other 'erotica' writers say they write porn, they're proud of it, and if you disagree, they get more than a little pissy about it, as if me claiming to write purely erotica is somehow an insult to them. Well, it works both ways. If you get to define your work, I get to define mine.

I've also heard - sometimes the same - writers allege that no sex scene can be superfluous in an erotica novel, because the whole purpose is to titillate the reader.

No, no, no, no, no.

I'm amazed that any published porn/erotica/whatever writer would say that. Absolutely stunned.

If sex could not be superfluous in this genre, no editing would be required. You could just throw in sex scene after sex scene and call it good. You wouldn't have to worry about character development or that pesky thing known as the story. I've deleted sex scenes from manuscripts specifically because they failed to progress the plot or reveal character. If it doesn't serve the story, it's excised. The fact you can't see the join proves the scene(s) wasn't/weren't needed.

Let's assume we have a 'sex writer' who believes there can't be superfluous sex in their novels. Let's assume the same writer believes they're writing to get the reader off.

That's where we differ.

I don't write porn; I write erotica. If anyone writes porn and takes offence at that, I can't help them. I also don't see how that's insulting porn writers, quite frankly. I'm just saying what I write. But if we take porn as that which gets the reader off, you're acknowledging the presence of the reader, and breaking down the fourth wall, which destroys the reader's suspension of disbelief.

I don't want to acknowledge the presence of the reader. I'm not interested in getting them off. I mean, if they go crack one off after reading the blow-job-in-the-kitchen-scene of Long Time Coming, then great. Shows it was a hot chapter (and I've had a few compliments on that one). But my sole intent is to show the development of Piper and Leo's relationship through their sex scenes. If I throw something in for the sake of the reader, I'm destroying the illusion that Piper and Leo's world is the only real one. I'm acknowledging it's all fake. I'm saying, "The reader is more important to me than my characters."

Don't get me wrong; I'm extremely grateful for each and every one of my readers. But in the moment, when I'm writing a book? I'm thinking of Piper and Leo. Or Lydia and Spencer. Or Reece and Daniel. Or, when I return to Family Jewels, Riley and Devon. I want to immerse myself in their world so I can make them living, breathing, real. I want people to read about them and say, "Yeah, that's true. I've felt that way. I get it."

I'm just trying to explore human nature and show how sex can be a catalyst for so many different emotions, and not just about having an orgasm. It can comfort, excite, arouse, disgust, frighten, amuse, bore you...and so many other states besides.

If my work was all about the wank fodder, I wouldn't be concerned with character development or believable storylines - and neither would my editors be. My publishers wouldn't specifically say no sex for the sake of it - we want a story too. Of course I write for publication, but I'm aiming at the erotica market, as I said, not the porn one. Porn is more about the reader than the characters and therefore less about the story than the five-knuckle shuffle.

I'm deeply offended by the notion that all erotica and its sub-genre erotic romance is all about the sex. Yes, there are some pretty spicy books out there, and sometimes sex is the story (which would make it pure erotica rather than erotic romance) - a case in point being Between Brothers by a certain 'Lauren Gallagher'. What I'm saying is, I'm more into writing about my characters' sex lives than trying to get a real, live person to go see Mrs Palmer and her five lovely daughters. If someone reads my books and has to go find their husband, like, now, that's a pleasant side-effect, but a side-effect is all it is.

But every single sex scene in every one of my books has a purpose. It moves the story along, or reveals character. The best sex scenes do both. Chapter fifteen of Long Time Coming is a personal favourite, to illustrate my point. It absolutely boggles my mind that there are writers out there who believe you can throw sex scene after sex scene into a manuscript because hey, you just want the reader to get horny, right?

Well, no. Here's how I want the reader to react.

I want the reader to believe the characters are horny. I want them to understand why they are. And I want the reader to care about the characters. And the only way to do that is to edit and refine the book so that every scene which appears - sexual or not - is deserving, and has a place and a purpose.

That, my friends, is why I will never, ever say I write porn, and why I will maintain to the last breath in my body that I write erotica, specifically erotic romance.

Harry the hamster

2010-08-29T00:31:00.000+01:00

Setting up a website

2010-08-24T19:36:00.006+01:00

I always said I'd set up a website once I'd sold my second book and proven to myself I wasn't a one-book-wonder. Then I go and sell books #2 and #3 in the same week.

However. The problem is I know nothing about setting up a website. Absolutely nothing.

So. Anyone have any suggestions for how to go about learning? Or even what sort of pages to have on my website once I set it up? Widgets, gadgets, whatevers?

Thanks in advance to anyone who cares to leave a comment or email me at scarlettparrish AT gmail DOT com. And remember to use language a five-year-old would understand!

For no good reason other than he's Shannon, here is...Shannon:

Books and a 'boon

2010-08-22T00:54:00.005+01:00

"Right, Clem. Get your hat and gloves on. We're going into town."

"Ook."

"Don't look at me like that. I have places to go, people to see and the last time I left you in the house alone I came back to find you in the middle of a heap of banana skins, puking everywhere."

"Ook."

I'm sure he's chuckling. He might have looked and felt like death warmed up but it's always fun watching someone else clean up your vomit, isn't it?

"There will be lots of people in town. And people mean...?"

"Ook!"

"Exactly. Faces to tear."

Within five seconds he's waiting at the door, wearing his little hat with the lacy veil, and his pristine white cotton gloves. Bless his transvestite arse.

First stop, the optician. See how I skilfully passed over the carnage that was the bus ride into town? It's best you don't know about how many people were maimed. Luckily, I wasn't one of them. Clem doesn't bite the hand that feeds him.

While I'm seeing about my new glasses, I try to ignore the screams of terror coming from another examination room. Once I'm done, I see Clem standing in the foyer, dragging seven faces knotted together behind him, wearing three pairs of glasses all at once.

"Oh, Clem. There you are. Do you know why there are two ambulances, a SWAT team and a man in a boiler suit outside?"

"Ook."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I heard some strange noises while I was speaking to the optician-"

"Ook."

"Well if you're sure."

From thence, the bookshop. I have literary constipation - I can't pass a bookshop. Every time I'm in town, I promise myself only one book. Okay, maybe two.

This time, I end up buying four.

"Ook!" Clem adds a tome entitled A History of Face-Tearing, 1536-1812, by a one Professor Stilton Cheeseboon.

"My God, Clem. Don't you think I've spent enough on you since you came to stay? Compensation claims, hush money and the like?"

"Ook." He looks sad.

"Oh, go on then. But on the proviso you don't maim the bus driver on the way home. It's dreadfully inconvenient having to find alternative modes of transport."

"Ook."

"I don't care how cool you thought it was getting a ride home in a police car. No."

"Ook." And now he's pouting.

But when it comes to Clem 'Boon, you have to show him who's boss.

Clem strikes again

2010-08-12T15:49:00.003+01:00

"Clem, we're gonna have to go into town."

The red-arsed harbinger of 'boon-doom crosses his arms and pouts. Was his tail actually forked last time I looked? Hmm. Must be a new-wave in primate fashion. How...devilish.

Anyway. He looks at me. And ooks at me.

"Ook."

See?

"I've had that bloody migraine to deal with and my bills have rather fallen by the wayside, so it needs to be done. You're already eating me out of house and home. I don't want to end up evicted from a flat that isn't there any more."

"Ook."

"Don't look at me like that. We're going. And I'm sure as hell not leaving you here on your own. Go get your things ready."

Five minutes later he appears wearing white cotton gloves and a flowery hat with a lace veil. He'd look so ladylike if it weren't for his huge red arse and those slavering fangs. And the tail.

Did I mention it's forked?

The bus driver's too horrified to protest when Clem demands we get on for free. I say 'demands'. I mean, 'tears the driver's face off'.

Then we get to the relevant building in town where I'm supposed to pay my taxes. Sadly, it's now an office full of people with gaping, bloody maws where their faces used to be. I say sadly, I mean 'fuck 'em all'.

On the way home, we spend the money we saved by not paying bus fares and taxes in a bakery. Clem's munching on a pink cupcake while I muse out loud.

"If I'd known you were in the mood for such rampant face-tearing, Clem, I'd definitely have looked forward more to this trip into town."

"Ook." Crumbs fly everywhere.

"Carnage is so much more fun than paying bills, don't you think?"

"Ook?" He stares up at me as if to say, bills? What need have I to worry about finances? I'm like the Tasmanian Devil with a moar worserer attitude.

"True. I suppose life's one long face-tearing holiday in Baboonistan, isn't it? Or Texas, where you will be heading back, soon."

"Ook." Is it my imagination or does he look a bit glum?

"Shall we go home, Clem?"

"Ook."

###

"Ook."

"What, again?"

Clem wants me to check my emails and last time he insisted on this, look what happened. Still, two publishing contracts in the space of four days? How likely is that to happ-?

"My God, Clem! What have you done?"

"Ook." He grins. A scary, scary sight.

"I...she...you...what?"

"Ook!"

You know, there's something serene about him. Maybe it's the zen air around him as he sews together all those faces he tore off earlier. Like a patchwork quilt, Ed Gein style.

"I...you...I've just been offered a publishing deal for Plus One!"

This 'boon's powers are...eerie, to say the lease.

"Good God - how am I going to organise this? Revisions for The Devil You Know and edits for Plus One. Two contracts to deal with, editing, cover art, promotion...I'll have to mainline caffeine for four or five months straight. And when am I going to get the time to make any progress on Family Jewels? And dear God, NaNoWriMo in November!"

"Ook. Ook." He laughs quietly to himself.

This 'boon. He'll kill me.

Perhaps that's the plan.

Am I destined to be a cross-stitched applique nobody on his patchwork quilt o' carnage?

###

I swear I just heard him on the phone to the publisher who has that third book I subbed...

Clem 'Boon - he is a-muse-d

2010-08-10T09:29:00.003+01:00

"Ook."

"Yeah, I know it's been ages since I blogged, Clem. I've been ill."

"Ook?"

"Bloody migraine again. Couldn't you tell from the way I've spent the past couple of days puking my guts up?"

"Ook."

"You think it's unpleasant? Think how I felt; bile dribbling out of my nose, puking so hard it felt like I'd spewed up a lung-"

"Ook!"

"Fine, fine, I'll shut up about it now. Anyway. Shouldn't you be making yourself useful? Alex sent you here for a reason, and that reason was not to eat me out of house and home. You're supposed to be a 'boon muse, garner me many contracts, bring me the fame and fortune I so clearly deserve. And what have you done? Bugger all. Well, besides tear the faces off a few neighbours, which was fun to observe, but-"

"Ook."

"Oh, right. You're gonna try to get me to check my emails again, with promise of the aforementioned fame and fortune? Listen, pal, I may be off my tits on migraine medication, but I'm not that spaced out."

"Ook. Ook."

"Right, right, okay. Well. If you insist. I need to check my emails anyway; no doubt they'll be building up after so long offline. You wouldn't believe how many I- holy fuck, Clem! It worked!"

"Ook." Clem sits back with a satisfied smile. At least, I think that's what it is. Have you ever seen a 'boon smirk? It's...unnerving.

"I've sold another novel - The Devil You Know!"

"Ook." Yup. Definitely self-satisfied.

"The novel I wrote about Daniel Fucking Cross, the bisexual manslut! The one who reasons 'every hole's a goal', and has an affair with Reece Hutton, yes, and buggers him goodwise, like."

"Ook!" Clem shift uncomfortably in his seat. He's got a huge red arse, and I swear it puckers.

"I know. I'm a pervert. I've written a novel about two men together. And sold it. Your muse powers work, oh wise 'boon!"

Clem's face begins to look like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

"I don't suppose you could do anything about the other two books I have on sub, could you?"

"Ook." Which, I think, translates as "Don't push it, bitch."

Oh well. One down, two to go, right?

Slavedriver

2010-08-01T07:53:00.003+01:00

"Ook." A finger prods me in the face. At least I hope it's a finger.

"Piss off, Clem. I'm dying."

"Ook."

"No, really. I've had a migraine on and off for two days and I'm-"

"Ook."

"So what if it's the first of August? I'm-"

"Ook."

Ah, that explains it. Clem's just reminded me of my plan to write 1,500 words a day in August. Alex must have informed him. That's why she's sent him over. He's my cheerleader until I settle into this routine.

Wow, thanks.

"Ook."

"Jesus, you red-arsed primate; am I to be allowed to make a mug of tea before you force me to my laptop?"

Clem crosses his arms. He's pouting. I've seen this before and it's not pretty.

"It's Assam tea."

"Ook."

Well that's settled, then. I make a mug of tea for each of us, then get to work. This month, Family Jewels, you are my bitch.

And I, apparently, am Clem's.

Midnight cowboon

2010-07-31T12:47:00.005+01:00

"Ook."

"Clem, I'm trying to sleep."

"Ook."

"Oh Christ, what is it now?"

"Ook."

He wants to go to the all-night garage for a box - yes, a box - of Mars bars. Thanks to Alex feeding him bananas laced with God knows what, I've been landed with a baboon with munchies. I'm a woman of the world. I know what a bad case of Lucy in the Sky with Bananas can do to you, but this is ridiculous. I'm working on resetting my non-existent sleep pattern, and this early into his stay, Clem's beginning to come down (good) and wants me to take him shopping (bad).

Taking a baboon out in public is never a good idea.

Nevertheless, I'm not scared of bad ones.

I pull on my jeans and 30STM sweatshirt, grab my bag in one hand, 'boon with the other, and off I - we - go.

"Ook."

"Yes, Clem, it's dark."

"Ook."

"No, no-one's going to get you."

"Ook."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Oo-"

"Shut-"

"-k."

"-up." I glare at him. As well as having the munchies, he's twitching a bit, and clearly paranoid. I'm beginning to think Alex didn't offer me temporary custody of Clem as a good luck charm. Rather, she's treating me as an all-expenses-paid 'Boon Boot Camp. Rehab for those with prehensile thumbs and big red arses.

Well, this is Scotland after all. We're sorely lacking in the former, but we have the latter in spades.

"Eleventy billion Mars bars, please."

The guy behind the glass screen looks at me as if I'm mad.

Make-up free, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt at this time of night. I very probably am.

Oh, and there's the distinct possibility he thinks I'm the one with the drug problem.

"Clem. Hop up on this ledge so he can see you."

Confronted with the sight of a just-coming-down baboon with a penchant for baring his arse, growling, and slavering all down the glass screen, the shop assistant duly shoves as many Mars bars at us as we can handle. Clem throws back seventeen straight away. All at once.

Woo. A baboon on a sugar high. Still, with any luck all that glucose will make his teeth fall out and he'll stop trying to bite random passers-by.

Actually, that's not so bad, given where I live and the tendency for most other people to be drunk.

I pull my debit card out of my purse but the very scared man behind the screen says, "No, no, that's okay. Just you, uh...take the chocolate bars. And the baboon."

"Got a carrier bag?"

"Just...haul the 'boon away from the window."

It takes some doing. A baboon sticky with melted chocolate? It's like a primate snack food version of superglue.

Once said baboon is detached, the man lifts the screen, throws a carrier bag full of chocolate at us, slams the window shut and mouths, "Bugger off!" at us.

So we do.

I suppose it's not so bad. Assault with a deadly 'boon and eleventy billion free chocolate bars isn't a bad haul for this impromptu 'shopping' trip.

Yes, we have no bananas

2010-07-28T23:20:00.004+01:00

"Delivery for Parrish?"

Uh oh. I've heard this before. It didn't end well. There was...carnage. There was mayhem. There was...a publishing contract.

So maybe it won't turn out too badly this time.

"Sign here, please," the delivery guy says.

"Gimme a minute." I slide open my phone and call Alex. She answers the phone, choking with laughter. There's a voice in the background singing, "Brains...buh buh buh buh buh brains..."

Hmm. Well if Fred's there, who's here?

"Scarlett?"

"WTF?"

"LOL."

"WTF???"

"ROFL."

"Look, STFU noob. Speak to me in English."

"I can't. I'm Australian."

"I'll send you some beer if you tell me WTF- uh, I mean, what's going on."

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"Ooh look, something shiny!"

And she hangs up. Bah.

I sign the delivery waiver, barely noticing the paragraph mentioning 'third party, fire, theft and banana insertion' and drag the crate indoors. There's a funny smell of...is that...

"Clem!"

"Ook!" Clem grins at me. Either that or bares his fangs. Or maybe he's just got wind, and believe me, in a baboon of Clem's genetic make-up, that's not pretty.

Actually Clem in BeneFit make-up isn't pretty, either, but his transvestite tendencies ought not to be mentioned here. *shudder*

"What are you doing here, Clem? Shouldn't you be taking your annual holiday in Baboonistan, land of the free, home of the huge red butts, dancing round your native flag?*

"Ook."

"Yes I do have three manuscripts out on sub. Who told you- Alex. Alex told you."

"Ook."

"But what's that got to do with you being- wait. You're being very calm. What's up with you?"

"Ook, man. Ook." And he raises a peace sign. Dear Lord. I have a stoned baboon in my house. Alex must have leant a bit heavy on the opium when she was lacing Clem's travel-bananas.

"Fuck."

"Ook!"

"Sorry, Clem, but this is unnerving." I call Alex again.

"Oh, he arrived safely?" She snorts.

"Explain why I have Lucy in the Sky with Bananas going on here."

"I just thought you could do with some...help. You know. Three manuscripts out on sub. You're a writer. You could do with a muse, right? Now you have one. A muse with a big ol' red heart-shaped ass."

"Point the first. I could have done with a muse while I was writing those books. Secondly, it was Fred who was my good luck charm last time. Thirdly, why is Clem chewing my wallpaper?"

"He probably thinks it's laced with LSB."

"LSB? You mean there really is such a thing as Lucy in the-?"

"Lovely, sexy bananas."

Christ. "This is just an excuse to offload a junkie baboon on me, isn't it?"

"No, no, of course not. [Crackle.] Honestly, I just thought you'd- [Interference.] -no speaka de Inglese, Herr Parrish. Je ne sais pas pourquoi."

"Alex. I know you're-"

And she hangs up.

And Clem's cutting his teeth on my bathroom tiles.

Alex, you whore. I will get you for this.

*Someone's face torn off and tied to a stick.

The ink's dry

2010-07-27T20:28:00.009+01:00

Haven't been blogging as much lately, but wait - I have good news! Don't get excited; I'm not going to say I've sold another book. Hopefully I'll be able to say that soon, though, as I have three manuscripts on sub. I'm hoping for the sake of my blood pressure, nerves and alcohol level that I sell at least one of 'em.

It feels good to have cleared much of my metaphorical in-tray. I still have a first draft from last year to revise, edit and submit - the bisexual shapeshifters one, but that's on the backburner just now until I figure out how to reduce the word count to a more respectable level (think I've done that) while still maintaining conflict and tension (remains to be seen). Too, I need to decide where to send it (haven't got a clue) and as for the synopsis, well...I've had enough of those to last me a very long time.

Now to get from revising/editing mode to first draft mode. Step forward, Devon Scott, star of Family Jewels and all-round pervert. He's been whispering in my ear ever since I completed my vampire novella, instructing me in the ways of the pervert. Being such a shy, retiring type, I was quite shocked at the scenes he suggested, but who am I to argue with one of my own brainpeoples?

I'll read over what I've written so far to re-acquaint myself with the story and plough through to the end. Give it a few days and expect to hear me whinging about how much first drafts do me in and editing is so much easier and pass me the vodka and why do I do this to myself...

In other news, I've acquired this book:

I'm sure there's a proper blurb for this novel. Oh, wait, yes there is - here, on the Loose Id website. Anyway, mine would go a little something like this:

Gays.
Inked gays.
The guy on the cover looks like Adam Lambert.

Speaking of whom.

Ladies, you need to watch this video.

And, uh...have some spare underwear to hand.

You're welcome.

I haz a famouse!

2010-07-23T11:54:00.002+01:00

I'm being interviewed today over at Dawn's Reading Nook. Go read.

And buy my book.

Another manuscript done

2010-07-21T17:36:00.003+01:00

Don't ask me how I did it but I've finished the mark-ups and edits for my vampire novella. In total it took me around two days. 48k words shrank to 47k, so...that can't be right, can it? Maybe it was a cleaner, tighter first draft and that's why it only took two days and lost only a thousand words. Yes, it's the shortest of my books so far, but let's double those figures. That's the equivalent of 94k words in four days. Phew.

Anyway. I'll take it. It's with four readers now and by this evening, no doubt will be with even more, so...yeah.

Time for a huge mug of strong tea, methinks.

And a Shannon.

Fantastic drummer, shite at helping me write the synopsis and query.

Never mind, Shanimal. Just you stand there and look pretty.

We all have our (Daniel) Cross to bare

2010-07-19T11:10:00.004+01:00

Hurr hurr. Didja see whut ah did thur?

I've got a bit more time to myself this week, thank God, and by 'time to myself' I mean 'time to dedicate to two undead guys who went on for a few thousand more words than I planned'.

Despite a busy few days, Daniel Fucking Cross is dealt with - his arse is tightened, prose polished, manuscript done. As done as I can get it, anyway.

So now, onto Cian and Jonathan, two vampires - one a psychopath, the other...not.

And have I ever mentioned how boring editing is? Yes, it has to be done. No, whinging doesn't get it finished any quicker. But yes, I will continue to moan every time I have a first draft to spit-polish, because misery loves company and I don't see why I should have to go through the process without making everyone else suffer too. I'm good like that. I like to share.

I'm aiming for 25 pages of mark-ups every day, which means I'll get to 'The End' sometime Friday. I won't be too surprised if that plan goes the way of all flesh, but it's something to aim for.

And that's about all I have to report. Another novel complete, one novella to edit...oh, and here is Wack.