Writing vs. Distractions

Fated Bonds Cover Final fix attemptHello 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.


An Angel Has No Memory by Peter Tupper

Memory FinalSo 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

Native Hearts by RaeLynn Blue

ImageHi 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

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Native-Hearts-RaeLynn-Blue-ebook/dp/B00IAUKEIU