Feeding the Girl Within

I love to read (and write) all types of love stories.  I like dark and angsty, I like drama mixed in, I like paranormal and even the highly erotic and taboo with sex-dripping off the pages in puddles.  Where the orgasms of the characters involved vibrates so intensly I can feel it in my fingertips as I turn the pages.  This feeds the grown woman in me.  The one who's been-there-done-that, or wishes she could (or had) been-there-done-that.

Every once in awhile, however, I like to feed the inner girl within myself.  The one that encapsulates romance with the old-fashioned fairy tales of love everlasting and nervous anticipation.  Don't get me wrong - I'm not talking all innocence or anything.  (Hell, I discovered a Chic magazine when I was only ten years old - I'm not talking about the fashion one, either.  My blindfolds were off a loooong time ago, and I like it that way. *saucy grin*)  No, I'm talking about stories where you can't help but sigh as you read the developing love between the two main characters and when they finally, finally, finally entagle themselves in bed, you smile for them, for the absolute rightness of their joining. 

I recently fed my inner girl and she is dancing in fulfilment inside.  Eloisa James recent book, A Kiss At Midnight, is absolutely splendid.  James is an autobuy for me anyway, but her recent book is a true pleasure if you're up for a change in pace of storyline.  As she states, this story is a true fairy tale, taken from the idea of Cinderella.  The heorine, Kate, is forced by her evil step-mother to masquerade as her step-sister.  She meets the handsome prince and yes, eventually falls in love.  Mix in a menagerie of animals, little "rats," as they are affectionally called, a glass slipper, and lovemaking that makes you place your hand over your heart, and you have your little girl fairy tale all grown-up. 


Give it a try.  If you like historicals, you'll love this new one from Eloisa James!  

Is this Cool or What! [Otherwise known as Stream-of-Consciousness]

Oh man, my thoughts can waver too easily sometimes.  I opened my blog intending to find a picture of a crowd of people, indicating how many times my head becomes so full of ideas and characters that are all hollering for me to "pick one" to focus a story line around.  Then this picture pops up and wow - my previous thoughts derail and I'm all into this chick. (I'm sorry, this picture is removed. It was an animated portrait of a gypsy, spinning in swaths of colored silk, dancing with a sword.)

What her story is, who she is, why she's a gypsy (or dressed like one ... hmm ... ).  My mind instantly conjures up scenarios of how she came to be where she is and who she's running from ... or maybe she's hunting for someone.  I already know that she is an expert swordswoman and that passion burns in her body.  Passion yet untapped for the perfect man for her as well as passion in her, I was going to say mission, but that's not ringing true for me when I look at her.  When I see her move in my mind.  No, she's in her situation by accident, or by a tumbling series of events that is beyond her control.  Let's see ... she does know how to belly dance.  I'll make her outfit intentional.  Perhaps she's tops in her particular brand of dancing and she was scheduled to perform when simultaneously there are shady dealings going on in the back of the room, or nearby.  Or perhaps it'll be a classic switch scenario where she was supposed to show up at one location but got the address wrong, or the address was given to her wrong ...

The sword is not her own but someone else's.  Or it was a decorative piece that she picked up when the situation turned deadly with the sub-plot.  Or someone thrust it into her hand.  Maybe it is hers and she uses it as a prop in her dancing (I've seen that before and it's really cool).  Yeah, that would make more sense if she does know about swords to have her own.  She keeps it sharp not only for the extra thrill to give her audience the "danger and sexiness" of her performance, but also as self-preservation.  She's been hit on before and has learned to defend herself.

Ah, now I digress to imagining her hero.  He'll be tall and dark (handsome? Of course. :)  I don't know, but personal preference usually has me choosing a darker figure as a hero.  But darker fits for what's swirling through my head.  Maybe he's a good guy trying to bust whatever is going on with the subplot. Maybe he's a part of the deal but internally disagrees with the way things are going down.  A bad guy with a conscious.  Is he taken with the gypsy dancer right away, watching her with hooded eyes from the shadows while she dances, not knowing how she's captivating him?  Or does he blow her off initially, his concern more on the deal that's going down?  No, I like that he's taken with her.  The lithe way her body moves and sways.  Her perfection in her control and the bone-deep sexiness with every pop of her hip and sway of her arms.  She is like sex molded into form and it makes him distracted, something that usually never happens.  And the flash of the sword as she dances with it, balances it, moves it as though it is a natural extension of her body. 

Maybe when the "deal" goes to hell faster than anyone would have thought, the dancer keeps her poise but begins to back off the stage when her way is cut off.  He is torn between taking care of whatever happened where he is and wanting to save her, but is amazed - even though in hindsight he shouldn't have been - at the way she deftly handles herself and remains out of harms way.  And when harm does come her way, how she slices and sways her way out of danger.

Whew.  I think I made my point after all.  Out of the crowds of people and ideas swarming through my mind, SHE has chosen to jump the highest to make herself known to me.  She is already taking a more solid shape in my thoughts, her story invading my waking moments until I can hash through them on paper (or, ahem, on screen). 

All writers begin in different ways.  This is an example of mine.  I don't always work this way, but I love it.  The challenge, the "who's out there," I call to my inner self.  And then the progression.  Like a corporate brain storm, to let myself be free and open to a story yet untold, to let myself see where the characters take me without hemming them in right away.  It's the most exciting ride ever.

Categorically Speaking...

From grade school, we learned that books are categorized.  Usually by a general theme and then by the author or editor.  It makes life easy to be able to go anywhere, for print or even ebooks, and know that if you're in the mood for horror, look in the horror section.  If you want a book on how to make balsamic chicken, go to the recipe section.  And if you want a love story, go to the romance section.

As a serious reader for many years, especially of the latter genre mentioned, I do know there are a ton of sub-genres within the broad spectrum of romance - and even erotica.  You have your suspense, your paranormal, your multiple partners, for example.  This is still refreshing and even easy.  Sometimes I bet you wish the rest of your life could be so easy to peg.  I know I do. 

What happens, however, when - as a serious reader - you want more than just a thriller to read?  You want to explore a new author, but not just any new author.  Let's say your life is dying for a little laughter.  You want nothing more than to snuggle down with a glass of wine and a love story (or two) that will make you smile and even laugh out loud!  Hey, guess what?  It's hit-or-miss time.  There is no definitive way to tell you if the ensuing story will make you laugh, cry, shiver or shock.  Okay, maybe I'm going overboard.  There are readers' reviews and maybe the blurb can give hints to the emotional content, but it's not always that precise. 

There is nothing I can do about the bookstores out there, but that's okay.  I have my own hovel of books, both print and e-pub, that I can swap around and order them in their own new category - Emotion. 

A Guilt-Free Break

Ya know, there are days where writing is a breeze.  The ideas are there, the story line is flowing, your characters are practically tripping over themselves to get your attention first.  Those days absolutely rock!

Then there are the times when you're stuck.  Or the characters have suddenly turned cold-shoulder or they decide to do something that is completely ridiculous and you fight to reign them in.  Those days suck. 

Recently, I ran into several of these less-than-creative days.  Each day I'd sit down and struggle or moan and stamp my feet.  If I didn't write I'd feel guilty because I know I should have put something down, but I simply stalled out. 

I ran to a friend and gripped how the writing was not going well.  She suggested I simply take a "vacation."  Yes, just take a break.  Take a couple or few days and don't sit in front of a blank screen, don't try to think of any stories, don't struggle.  Don't write.  And don't worry about it; it'd be okay.

So I let myself back off.  I read without guilt that I should have been writing instead.  I enjoyed exhaustive time with my kids, I simply let go.  

It didn't take long.  Within a couple of days, the struggles I'd been having cleared right up.  But I didn't race off to the computer yet.  I forced myself, by this time, to leave off the writing for another day or two and I let the ideas, the voices, swirl around in my head until, like the little ball in a roulette game, the ideas settled down just where they were supposed to be.  At that time, I raced to get myself set up to type away.  And write I did, and am still doing.  

I tend to fall into the push I hear from every writer I admire:  write, write, write.  Although I subscribe to this philosophy, I've learned that sometimes I have to allow myself a slight adjustment:  write, write, write, break, write, write, write, break.

Every writer finds his or her own rhythms for good writing.  I'm glad I'm working on finding my own.     

Irritation!

Aagh!

You know, I take my time when I look for a book to buy. I'm making an investment and I want to make sure I have a good return on my investment, i.e. I will enjoy the story. I become naively upset when my purchase yields, well, crap. This does happen from rare time to time so you would think I'd just pfft and toss the wasted story over my proverbial shoulder, right? Maybe it's the writer in me, but no, I get upset. And it's a selfish, jealous upset.

I've been trying for awhile to be published, and I will continue to try until the day (and from then on) when an editor contacts me back with something in the form of "we want you!" I work hard on my stories and on my edits. I cast vulnerability to the side when my stories are critically critiqued. I rewrite and make new edits, and my rejection letters are beginning to turn into a pile. But that's okay with me. I know I'm growing as a writer and I am determined.

But let me buy a book where I can hardly finish the story due to unidentified pronouns, mixed up time lines and confusing as hell sexual positions and it makes me madder than a stirred up hornets nest.

God bless the author, I try to tell myself. I really don't think I'm upset with her as a person. She's no doubt been in the same position I'm in where she's toiling away for publication. Then she gets a lucky shot with some publishing house. Now this is where the disgust really comes to play. How can any sane editor or publisher be okay with putting out a work that is, in a nutshell, confusing?

The story I just made myself finish, because I bought the damn thing, sounded good at first. If I am not distracted by the writing, I can let almost anything go. It was obvious this author worked hard on the first chapter of her book. Beginning with Chapter Two, however, I began second guessing my purchase. By the time I made it to Chapter Three my eyes popped open with disbelief. I went back to check the author's name and the publishing house and they were both legitimate (not complete unknowns, in other words). Considering I was less than one third through the book, I shook my head then proceeded to plow through to the end.

My suspension of disbelief now evaporated, I scanned past the endless sex scenes that took up too much of my time figuring out (were they both on their knees upright or laying down? Wouldn't she drown if she went down on him while he sat in a tub full of water? These kinds of things). I laughed out loud at the pretentiousness of the dialogue (a scullery maid saying things like "uprooted myself," "be that as it may," "summarily"), and I became amazed anew that in less than 12 hours, a young, virginal woman - did I mention this was an historical - willingly gave herself to not one, but two men, complete strangers at that, and even begged to try - and enjoyed - anal play! C'mon. Fantasy is one thing, but there has to be even a modicum of realism for me to fall into the tale.

Still, I don't hold it against the author. I am no hypocrite as I'm not published myself. I am no doubt working through my own hideous errors that some editor out there is squinching her eyes and saying "Please God, how can I tell Ayla to not quit her day job!"

And this is why I am not too upset that my stories have not seen the light the publishing day. When my stories are out there for the reading public, I want them to buy with confidence that they will have one hell of a story in their hands (or kindle or nook or ereader...). The right editor and the right publisher are out there for me.

Somewhere...

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

Don't know if this is going to work or not, but I am tired of the same ol', same ol'. I've wanted to change my blogs appearance, but alas, I am short of funds to hire a professional, so computer-challenged me attempted to dig in there and do it myself.

I suppose it's alright. I am having a difficult time, however, figuring out what "tab" means as opposed to "tab background," and other such given names. Then I take a look-see and I think, "No, I wanted those words to be a different color." Unfortunately, I don't know what the term is for the given group of words so I have to pluck around the different choices. In the meantime, I end up screwing up another part that I had just right.

No, I am not mad. Actually, I'm laughing right now. God loves computer literate people. Really. I'm just not one of them. Never have been and I don't see myself as ever being one, either. I have a friend that tries to tell me to just "go here," and "input this there," and "html," this and "code" that. My eyes cross. Literally. They make it seem soooo easy.

Oh well, I'm going to leave the ol' blog as-is for now. I've been wrestling with this thing for near an hour (disgusting, isn't it?) and I'm exhausted. Plus, I feel a mite guilty because I've neglected my writing for tonight.

Wait though, I am writing, aren't I? Okay, so it may be cheating to say my blog post is my writing for the night, but some days you gotta let it go and give over to the change . . .

For Mom's

May all Mothers out there
have a great and beautiful and wonderful day today!