Y’all, my big sis has combined two of my favorite things: her Frankenstein smut AND #benedictcumberbatch . Check it out…. and go follow her blog!
Originally posted on lucybluecastle:
Y’all, my big sis has combined two of my favorite things: her Frankenstein smut AND #benedictcumberbatch . Check it out…. and go follow her blog!
Originally posted on lucybluecastle:
Hello boys n’ girls! Today I’m welcoming author H.C.Playa to the blog today to talk a little about writing versus distractions– a post we all need to be reading. Especially ME. She’ll also be telling you a little about her new book from Inkstained Succubus, Fated Bonds.
Writing vs Distractions
As a writer, one question I get is, “How do you balance writing and distractions?”
There isn’t one magic method that works for everyone. I know that isn’t what you want to hear. Sometimes life pulls you in ten different directions. We all have responsibilities. At the end of the day, the difference between the author and someone who dreams of being an author is that the former not only makes time to write, but writes. I’ll say something else you may not want to hear. Self-discipline plays a big role, but there’s more to it than that.
For me it’s about desire and passion. Which fires me more, playing a game of Bejeweled or writing a scene? Writing can be hard. When you are there with your character as they go through the hells you create, it can drain you almost as much as real life sometimes. It can also be exciting and uplifting. I can’t really claim that perusing social media or clicking another round of bejeweled does much beyond numbing my brain. I’m as guilty as the next person of falling prey to the distractions of the internet and life in general.
I’m a divorced mother of three kids. I have a house full of furry critters. I have a significant other. I’m in graduate school. I even have hobbies, read, and watch television now and again. It would be very easy to say I’ll write later, when the kids are older, when life is less chaotic, when I have a better job, etc. I started writing when I was a stay-at-home mom of two toddlers and an infant. If I had waited, I might never have even discovered what I’m capable of achieving. As a mother, I can promise that life never gets less chaotic. The day it does, I know I’m doing something wrong.
I may not write every day or have the best-weeded garden (okay, it often gets overrun with weeds, but I grow great herbs!), but I follow my passions, of which writing is one. If writing is your passion, pursue it. DO IT. At the end of the day, if you really want something, be it writing, a degree, whatever, you will find a way.
As a treat, here’s an excerpt from Fated Bonds, my newly released novel:
Light glimmered ahead and she spotted a flash of movement. She poured on speed and crashed through the brambles and bare branches which half-covered the mine entrance. She blinked twice to adjust to the anemic sunlight of winter. Martez’s black leather jacket made an easy target among the barren winter trees and brush. Gotcha, you murderous little asshole.
Tala closed the distance between them with swift long strides. Martez glanced over his shoulder, spotted her, and his hand went in his jacket. Tala halted and aimed her gun at his head. A mere handful of steps separated them.
“Hold it, Martez.”
Martez stumbled to a stop and looked back over his shoulder again.
“Go ahead. Give me a reason to pull this trigger.”
Dark eyes evaluated her and then his hands slowly came up to rest behind his head. He sank to his knees on the ground.
For one long moment Tala considered killing him anyway. Her hands shook with the rage that burned inside her. She stalked closer, a wild animal scenting an easy meal. She circled and looked him in the eyes. He remained still, a rabbit cornered by a fox. She could do it. A telltale bulge betrayed the shoulder holster and the weapon under his jacket. She knew enough to make it look legit. Internal Affairs wouldn’t look too hard; they weren’t sympathetic towards cop killers.
You can find Fated Bonds on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or order from InkStained Succbus. Also, feel free to check out my blog (hcplaya.wordpress.com), find my on Facebook (HC Playa), or follow my on Twitter (@HCPlaya). If you’ve read the book and liked it, consider leaving a review on Amazon.
So I’m reading all these really interesting new books lately from friends and I’m really excited to share them with everyone. I came across “An Angel Has No Memory” and I thought it was worthy of sharing with all of you. The author, Peter Tupper, was kind enough to come over to The Belle and tell us a little about his new release!
Greetings. My name is Peter Tupper. I’m a writer and journalist in Vancouver, BC, and I’m here to tell you about my new book, An Angel Has No Memory, published by Inkstained Succubus.
The woman– the Asset– the Toy– turned to face her, focussing her entire, though limited, attention. “Good day, Ms. Chung,” she said.
“Hello, ah, Gold,” Rose said, on edge. She knew about the Fulfilment House’s Assets, people who had agreed to have their bodies surgically reshaped into images of beauty and strength, and their brains augmented with millions of dollars worth of hardware, so their memories and identities could be erased and reprogrammed depending on the assignment: anything from sex worker to lawyer to assassin. She had seen images in the parent corporation’s advertising, but she’d never been face to face with one.
This one smiled at her with the tranquil, uncaring expression of a happy child. There was no complexity in there, no resentment, no hidden agenda or angry judgement waiting for her to make a mistake.
In An Angel has no Memory, Rose works as a programmer for Assets, people who can be programmed with whatever personality and skills are needed for the assignment. In between assignments, the Assets are kept in a child-like amnesiac state, and live in a carefully controlled environment where they exercise and do simple art. (If you notice a resemblance to a certain Joss Whedon television series, please keep it to yourself.)
Rose deals with the anxieties and frustrations of her job by pretending to be an Asset in their blank state, even stealing a set of Asset clothing and wearing it at home. She finds relief in being like a child or doll, separate from everyday life and the demands of being a person, and being cared for by others.
This is similar to the BDSM practices of submission, ageplay or petplay: stepping away from our society’s injunctions to be capable and responsible at all times. What people find puzzling and disturbing about masochism is the way it goes against the assumption that everybody wants to be more powerful, more free. Masochism is fundamentally perverse, but it meets the needs of the masochist, not only for suffering or for a lack of responsibility, but for recognition by another.
Going to an even further stage is disability pretenders, people who fantasize about being paralyzed or that their limbs are amputated. It’s more than just the physical state of disability, or the fantasy of such. Functionalist sociologist Talcott Parsons identified what he called “the sick role”, in which the sick person is exempt from social obligations and not responsible for their condition, but must comply with medical authority and try to get well. Those who aren’t deemed sick are considered hypochondriacs or malingerers, and are effectively cheating. The sick role has its rewards.
When I was a kid, I went through an odd week when I really wanted to have a hearing aid, like the guy I had seen on a PBS kids show. Bear in mind, this was back when hearing aids were boxes bigger than a first generation iPod, with visible wires connecting to big earpieces, and you had to wear it on your chest to pick up people speaking. It made the wearer’s deafness extremely visible. I made myself a toy version with some string and a bit of wooden train track, and wore it for a while, then got tired off it. These days, hearing aids are much smaller, able to fit into the ear canal, and people who use them are less visible or even invisible. I doubt a modern hearing aid would have had the same impact on me; it wouldn’t have been visible enough.
In Lars von Trier’s film The Idiots (1998), a group of mentally and physically sound people gather to pretend to be a commune for people with severe mental disabilities. They go on expeditions into spaces like public pools and supermarkets where they twitch and drool. Even “the idiots” themselves don’t agree on why they are doing this; some want to shock the bourgeoisie, others see it as self-exploration and creative expression, others want a break from regular life. At least one member of the group really can’t cope with “real life”, further complicating the issue.
In Chuck Pahlaniuk’s Fight Club, the narrator attends support groups for people with incurable physical illnesses, partaking of their unconditional acceptance and support, because he cannot acknowledge he is depressed and lonely.
In Vicki Hooks’ erotic stories of amputee pretending, which sometimes combine with transvestism, the protagonist’s apparent disability does not lead to social isolation, but instead to friendship and romance.
Even the TV series Glee had a character who faked a stutter to avoid social interaction, and another who claimed self-diagnosed Asperger’s to excuse her obnoxious personality.
If masochism is fundamentally a need for recognition by another, then it would make sense that a person would voluntarily take on the role of the abject, the sick, the disabled, the weak, the primitive. This performance simultaneously sheds their old identity and creates a new one, one that is “special” and visible.
The problems start when you remember that some people can’t leave the “sick role” when they feel like it.
You can find Peter on the Web at http://www.petertupper.com
Hi there, kittens! I know, its been a while since we were together. It’s my fault, really. I’ve been writing books. But I wanted to take the time this week to give you a heads up on a new, steamy read from a great author and a good friend, RaeLynn Blue. Her new release, “Native Hearts,” from Mocha Memoirs Press, is a perfect read for Valentine’s Day! AND… until February 28th, you can get it for just 99 teensy little cents. Here’s a little blurb to whet your appetite…
Lee Stone didn’t want a heart-shaped box of boring chocolates for Valentine’s Day. She didn’t want a trip to Vegas. She’d been there and done that. What she longed for was one Valentine’s Day that didn’t invite tragedy and chaos. The last three years with her boyfriend, Tank Begaye, had been host to a blizzard, a fire, and a heart attack. For once, she wanted to spend the day nestled in her lover’s arms.
Tank Begaye had weathered the long-distance relationship with Lee for years. Now, he meant to make her a permanent fixture in his life—as his wife. Avoiding the cliché Valentine Day’s proposals at restaurants and public landmarks, Tank knew exactly where to go—his family’s Hogan, deep in the heart of the Navajo Reservation. Surrounded by his ancestors’ spirits, he would ask Lee to join their family’s circle.
Sounds like a hot read to me. Just the perfect thing to warm me up on a cold winter night. Now, just click the link below and be amazed! Later babes…
Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC: http://mochamemoirspress.com/native-hearts
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-nativehearts-1416555-149.html
So I was all set to write up my review of The Hobbit (aka How Benedict Cumberbatch Laid Waste to My Ovaries) and then I made the mistake of opening MSN news. A headline reads, “Gillian Anderson Inks Sci-Fi Book Deal.” This catches my eye. I’m a fan of the X-Files and I think Ms. Anderson is a fine actress. My immediate thought is that maybe she’s always wanted to be a writer and had this manuscript lying around her house since college and she never got to do anything with it because life and the entertainment industry got in the way. Maybe now that her career has slowed down a bit, she finally got the chance to polish up that book and submit it to a publisher. Maybe she had published some short stories in her youth that were really good and they just went unnoticed. Good for her!
According to the article, she’ll be writing with a co-author (a real writer who will do the majority of the book most likely) to develop a new series to go with Simon & Schuster’s new speculative fiction line Simon451 (clever, huh? they just discovered that speculative fiction was a thing). She says that she’s looking forward to her venture and that she feels that she has the perfect background material to do this. That she “enjoys writing” but has never allowed herself the time to do it.
Brace yourselves, this next part gets loud….
NO! I do not accept this. It does not compute. Let’s make one thing very clear: writing a book is hard. Despite what Amazon and those self-pub vanity press banner ads tell you. Writing is a talent that NOT EVERYONE HAS. Even those of us who write genre fiction. It is not easy, it is not a fast track to fame and fortune. Simply “enjoying writing” is not good enough. You can “enjoy” making a grocery list. You can “enjoy” telling your kids bedtime stories. Writing, real writing, having INTEGRITY as a writer means you love it. You do it because you have to. Not because you were on a sci-fi television show twenty years ago and you’re an aging starlet who needs a shot of adrenaline in your career.
Do I blame Ms. Anderson for this? Hell no. I blame Simon and Schuster. Poor Ms. Anderson is being used as a cash cow. There are thousands of good authors out there. Authors whose prose is so clean and so breathtakingly beautiful that it makes me cry. Authors who write across a variety of genres. Authors who write every single day and turn out book after book but can’t manage to get noticed by the upper echelon of publishing because they’re too busy giving book deals to Snooki and sci-fi pinup girls. These are authors who shouldn’t be struggling to make a living. I even have examples (other than myself): Lucy Blue, Tally Johnson, S.H. Roddey, Stephen Zimmer, Michael West, Selah Janel, Crymsyn Hart, Nicole Givens Kurtz, Debra Glass, Steven Shrewsbury, James Tuck, John Hartness and COUNTLESS OTHERS who are hovering under the radar. Writers who write because they love it, not for a paycheck. And certainly not to be a whore for a publishing house.
I also blame society. Us. We the readers. Its a shame that P.T. Barnum isn’t alive today, he’d make a fortune. It seems that the only thing we’re interested in these days is the freakshow. The publishing houses, movie industry, music industry, etc. keeps heaping shit on to our plates and we keep lapping it up like its the best thing we ever ate. Fanboys that still masturbate to their posters of Agent Scully will buy her book by the truckload and Simon & Schuster will make a sack full of money off of her whether its good or not. And as an author it makes me physically ill. As a lover of art, it makes me physically ill. Almost as ill as people being able to quit their day jobs writing dinosaur porn and lactation romances.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Ms. Anderson will turn out to be a great writer (not that we’ll ever know because of her co-writer. i wonder if his name will be in big, glossy letters on the cover). Maybe she just missed her true calling. Maybe Snooki really is an intellectual whose been hiding her light under a bushel all these years. Doubtful, but stranger things have happened.
Okay. I’m going to climb down off the soapbox and go back to browsing pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch on Pinterest. As I suspected, that’s much better for my mental health.
Yeah, I know. I’ve gotten to where, on my blog at least, I’ve been talking a lot about my other interests. And I hope that’s okay. I hope that’s a contributing factor as to why I’ve had a serious upswing in my followers and traffic to my quaint little blog. The fact is, I’ve gotten to where I hate reading the same things over and over on every writing blog that I follow. I’m going to list some topics and… stop me if you’ve heard them…
* Where do you get ideas?
* How to get the most bang for your marketing buck?
* Various sex topics (BDSM techniques, positions, sex toys, etc.)
* How to get published.
* I hate/ love social media.
I bet they sound pretty familiar huh? Yeah, me too. And everyone has the same old answers. So recently, I just decided, fuck it. I’m going to blog about stuff that interests me, stuff that I observe, things I see online or on television, music… whatever. Now don’t worry… I will still pop up with little pearls of wisdom about my writing, my process and of course my books (duh… I’m a whore just like everyone else). And I always try to tie it to writing in some respect. After all, pop culture inspires the hell out of me. So coming up this week, I will post my hot and heavy, drooling review of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug entitled: How Benedict Cumberbatch Laid Waste to My Ovaries.
And speaking of Mr. Cumberbatch, I have to make some noise about the weirdest thing I saw on the internet via Facebook on Sunday. Y’all know that I am a fangirl. I admit it. I’ve even come out in defense of Fanfiction (scroll backwards in the posts, you’ll find it). My Pinterest and sometimes Facebook feed are awash with my little obsessions. I livetweet about Sleepy Hollow and American Horror Story and I’m sure that I’ll be livetweeting about BBC’s Sherlock in a couple of weeks (any of you in the UK, if you give me spoilers before Jan. 19th, I’ll kick you til yer dead). Anyway, I digress.
On Sunday, I was reading a blog post that was relating the story of a Q&A done right after the screening of Sherlock, Series 3, Ep.1: The Empty Hearse. The Q&A panel was “moderated” by Caitlin Moran, a fairly well known writer/interviewer/some might say feminist. The long and short of it is, Ms. Moran thought it would be a laugh to have the show’s stars read a fanfiction aloud to a crowd of many. I haven’t watched the Q&A in question because I’m avoiding any spoilers of any kind, but from what I hear– it was pretty damn uncomfortable for everyone. For one thing, the hot rumor is that she told the actors that it was not explicit. Apparently, her definition of explicit was not shared with the class and it quickly descended into a Brokeback Mountain kind of uncomfortable (remind me to tell you sometime about that). Anyway, from what I understand, the actors were good sports, though they did politely scold her for the pointless endeavor that kind of lessened what should have been a serious discussion. But of course, just like with anything “fandom related” (insert dramatic music here), that was just half the story. The real story is the… what’s a good word to describe it… RABID twitter/ tumblr battle that ensued in the aftermath. In fact I think we could call it “The Q&A: The Desolation of Twitter” (see what I did there?)!
Now I’m in some fan groups. I’m on Twitter. I wouldn’t say I have my finger on the pulse of the “Collective.” I can just observe when their eyes are dilated (hidden obscure references abound). And lemme tell ya, it got a little bit out of hand. People ridiculing fanfiction, people ridiculing slash fanfiction, people ridiculing feminists… honestly, the Twitter board I saw yesterday read like a girls’ locker room throw down over the captain of the football team. So what do I think about all this? As if anyone cares…
1.) Essentially, the actors in question (Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, in case you’ve been under a rock this year), had their say and have moved on with their lives. We should too.
2.) Bullying and mudslinging from both sides is just stupid. Take off your sheet, put your big girl pants on and be fanWOMEN, not fanGIRLS. That goes for you too, Ms. Moran.
3.) The writer of the fanfiction had nothing to be ashamed of whatsoever. She’s a good writer and should be proud that she’s brave enough to put herself out there for strangers to read.
4.) You guys know what I write and I’ve had to read it in public before. They were my own, original words and it still made me blush. Putting unsuspecting people on the spot like that is just cruel. And also seems to diminish what they do. I’m just sayin’– all the artists in that scenario were insulted.
5.) Everyone makes mistakes and looks like a big ol’ donkey butt every now and then. Granted, they don’t usually do it in public in front of international stars, fans, television executives and journalists… but we do act like cunts from time to time. I’m sure that the world isn’t going to fall apart any time soon just because this was Ms. Moran’s turn.
All righty, then…so yeah, the blog. I’m going to try to do some updating this week. My shows are in hiatus for the holidays, so nothing on that. But I’m sure I can find something to talk about. Probably mishaps with tree decorating, the recipe for the best fudge ever, more fangirling… no, fanWOMENing. OK, I’m not sure that’s going to catch on. It’s kind of awkward…
Hi kittens! I’ve been so busy the last month. The holidays… writing… fangirling… it’s all just been too much. But I wanted to let you all know that I haven’t forgotten you. Tonight I appeared on “Nice Girls Reading Naughty Books” with Bernadette Walsh. It was an awesome experience! We talked about writing and television and husband bashing– it was great! I thought I’d leave the link here so you could go and take a listen later on!
<div style=”font-size:10px;text-align:center;width:400px;”>New Books Internet Radio with <a href=”http://www.blogtalkradio.com/bernadettewalsh” rel=”nofollow”>Bernadette Walsh</a> on BlogTalkRadio</div>
In other news, I’m off to tweet/ fangirl about American Horror Story: Coven. If you aren’t playing along, you should be. It’s great, snarky fun and isn’t that what America is all about? Coming up on the blog: holiday recipes, holiday shopping HELL, premature squee-ing about BBC Sherlock and news about upcoming releases!
Stay sexy, kids!