Masturbation Monday: Naughty Hottie for Christmas

All I want for Christmas is a Naughty Hottie, so I thought I’d share a super hot story with you to give you a little taste. Enjoy this Masturbation Monday short story.


Naughtily confiscated from Pinterest.

I turned to head for a table far from the bar, only to almost crash into the hottie I had lusted over every time I saw him the past few months. He was a new coworker and younger, by at least ten years, than me. Every time I saw him, my eyes wandered. There was no stopping it, so I didn’t. I let them linger. I traced his cheekbones, the muscles I knew were hidden beneath the thick sweater, all the way down his long legs.

When I looked up, pausing on the full lips that quirked up into a smile, I finally finished and met his stormy eyes. They were an icy gray with flecks in them that made them appear like shattered glass. The effect of his eyes could mesmerize me if I weren’t careful. I didn’t want to be careful.

“My apologies.” I tucked my crappy light beer into the crook of my arm, the same way I would if this were a busy bar or dance floor. “I didn’t splash on you, did I?”

“No, we’re good.” He took a sip of his own crappy light beer. I wanted to put my hand on his chest and feel if his sweater was as soft as it looked. He cleaned up so well. I was used to seeing him in ripped up jeans or sweats, tank tops or thick hoodies. It all depended on the time of year. I wanted to see him naked. Just the thought made me lick my lips.

“Well, Merry Christmas,” I took off towards the table I’d staked out with other coworkers. Ben elbowed me as soon as I sat down. I wouldn’t be cold the rest of the time I spent at the party because there was now a fire lit inside me. Embarrassed, I hid behind Ben once I sat at the table.

“What was that about? Should I be jealous?” He looked me over. I saw the eyebrow raise and the concerned lines form.

“No…” I sighed. I had rules, stupid rules, about coworkers. No dating, no sex, hell it was rare to go out for a casual drink with coworkers. I took a long drink from my beer and then the table was called to get food.

When I came back with my plate, hottie was sitting in the empty seat next to me. I glared at Ben with squinty-eyes, sure this was his doing.

Ben shrugged, shook his head, proclaiming his innocence. I had no idea what to think. I closed my eyes for a long moment and then dug into the food on my plate. Ben came back. The people around our table were all joking and chattering away. Sarcasm and gossip flew between us. We all laughed and sometimes got really loud.

The waiter cleared plates, empty beer bottles, and glasses. I sat back, comfortable with the people around me. The hottie, too. He was quiet, but funny. I could feel his eyes on me now and again. I didn’t expect to feel his thigh press against mine, but it was there.

It wasn’t long until we were the only ones left at the table. Others went to chat and mingle some more, to look at the gifts they’d won and to make trades. Hottie, whose name was actually Drew, leaned over to speak in my ear. There wasn’t any way I’d hear a whisper with the band playing ridiculously loud. “Any chance you want to get out of here?”

The thrill that went through my center speared me in such a way I thought when I got up there’d be a puddle on the chair. I nodded. I finished my beer, then stood and we walked the perimeter of the room to make it look like we were heading back towards the bar. Walking right by it, we headed for the coat room.

Before I could grab my coat and put it on, he had the door shut and blocked with a high table. He pulled me into his strong arms and smiled down at me. I slipped my fingers underneath his sweater to find soft, supple muscles. Before I flicked my thumbs over his nipples, his lips were on mine and our tongues danced. The feeling of his facial hair against my face ramped up my desire.

For the first time ever, I was glad I had dressed up for the party. I never wore dresses or skirts, but tonight, I’d chosen a skirt. Drew pressed me up against the outside wall and he slid my thong out of the way. Within moments he was sliding his way inside.

“Fuck, your tight,” he whispered against my neck. He nibbled me there and I bit my lip to keep from giving us away by moaning. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and shifted myself slightly, helping him slide all the way inside.

We both groaned as if everything were right in every way that very moment. Drew kissed me again and we bounced together, flesh slapping as we clamored to reach the high we both craved. As his fingers dug into my thighs, I leaned my head back, craving the feel of stubble and lips against my neck. He obliged, easily guessing what I wanted.

It didn’t take much longer before we were bouncing harder, panting with a loss of breath, skin dampening with desire. My eyes slid closed and fireworks cracked behind my lids as I exploded inside. My lips, pressed against his shoulder, were muffled as I moaned my pleasure into his muscles. Drew grunted as my muscles spasmed around him, squeezing tighter, faster around his length.

Another orgasm rocked me and then I felt him join me. Drew was so hard, his fingers dug so deep I knew there’d be finger-sized bruises in my skin. He pushed inside harder, sped his rhythm up as he lost control.

Pressed against the wall, I held on tight with arms and legs wrapped around him. It took a few moments for us to catch our breath. He lowered me down gently and I straightened my skirt. His eyes stared into mine, all soft and warm while he zipped his pants up. “That was fun. Wanna come home with me?”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about rules… sometimes they’re meant to be broken.


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please come visit others to see what they’ve shared!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

Sharing is Caring: Crack of Dawn by Amber Skye

If you enjoy raunchy lesbian reads, then you’ve got to get your hands on Crack of Dawn by Amber Skye. It’s currently available on Amazon and is enrolled in Kindle Unlimited. Enjoy this supremely hot excerpt.


“You appear to be tied up at the moment girly,” Fiona breathed in my ear as she continued her buttery strokes to the tender flesh of my rump. “I’ll untie you if you like, but then you’ll have to leave my home, never to return. It’s your call. Do you want to be free or do you want to be owned by me?”

She ran her tongue along my neck, into my ear, and swirled it several times before blowing warm breath on me that made me shiver.

I whimpered and she smacked me hard on the ass, causing me to moan audibly. She followed my moans with two more strikes, making me bite my lip instead of crying out. When I remained quiet, she began to slowly stroke my ass again and kissing my ear.

“All you have to do is ask, young lady. Just say the words and I’ll untie you,” she teased. “Or you can see what I have in store for you.”

“Please, Fiona, don’t untie me.” I couldn’t believe the words that came out of my mouth.

Suddenly she twisted me around to face her, my jaw firmly gripped in the vice that was her hand.

“What did you call me?” she asked.

“Fiona,” I pouted. “I called you Fiona.”

She gripped my jaw tighter and brought her face within inches of mine. I noticed her hair was cleaned up, combed, and pulled back into a pony tail. Her breath was minty fresh, and she looked as pretty as a peach.

“You will call me “Madam” and only “Madam” from this point forward. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Madam,” I said in a low voice, averting my eyes from hers.

“Good,” she replied.

Then she ran her delicious tongue into my mouth, providing me with the most glorious kiss I’d ever had. Our tongues danced and sparred. I went to wrap my arms around her, forgetting that I was bound. I was momentarily disoriented again, but her kiss was so delightful that I soon lost myself in her. Then she rolled me back on my side, smacking my ass roughly as she did. It stung and burned, filling me with both fright and a horny curiosity of what Madam had in mind for me.

Then, all of a sudden, I felt an intense pressure inside my asshole. A slick, smooth object entered me, filling me up inside and momentarily taking my breath away. I gulped and gasped.

“Oh, Madam,” I whispered. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m training your ass to please me. Don’t you want to please Madam?”

Referring to herself in the third person caused me to shiver with desire.

“Oh, yes, Madam,” I breathed. “I want to please you so much.”

Then her tongue whipped over and around my buttocks, kissing, nibbling, biting me roughly. The dampening in my pussy was palpable; I suppose she knew this would happen. She immediately ran a long finger inside my hot box and chuckled at the gooey, wet sounds produced by her probes. I was soaking wet. Deftly, she reached down and undid the ropey restraint on my ankles, freeing my legs. I was on my back now, a bit in discomfort as I lay on my bound hands. Then she pushed my legs over my head, giving her unabated access to my sex. She devoured my cunt with her mouth, electricity firing through my body with each flick to my engorged clit. Simultaneously, she ran the object rhythmically into my tortured asshole. I could see enough of the phallus to realize that it was a moderate-sized, glass butt plug with which she probed my hole. She was a pro. The thrusts with the plug matched her tongue-lashings to my clit, and then she would pause briefly and pop my bottom hard with the acrylic hand mirror she’d kept handy. The combination of the three sources of stimulation overwhelmed me, and I was gushing cum from my pussy in no time. Again, the sensation was nearly more than I could take. When I screamed and begged her for mercy, she wadded my panties and shoved them into my mouth, muffling my cries.


Amber Skye is a lesbian erotica writer living in the Southeastern United States. She enjoys relating her sultry, sexual experiences with her readers through her tales of steamy, girl-on-girl action. Amber’s characters encompass a wide range of women: from the hot college coed and the girl next door to the attractive older woman and everything in between.

You can find more from Amber Skye on her Amazon Page. You can also follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

Adventures in Writing: Listening to Your Surroundings

Overheard Bits & Pieces

Confiscated Cuteness from Pinterest

I’m sure I’ve mentioned at some point or another that I keep a handy OneNote file with things I overhear. Bits of conversation that catch my attention and make my muse wake up and take note of her surroundings. (Think of a Meerkat keeping lookout.) The people around you, the conversations that don’t concern you, are a gold mine for things you can use in your writing.

Especially if you write naughty erotica or steamy romance. Double-Entendres are your best friend. Even typos in a text message (which are huge online if you didn’t know) can be a source for hilarity in any kind of story. (Unless you’re writing horror, which then it might be misplaced somehow if you use it at the wrong time….)

Either way. Tune in now and then. Eyes straining when you stare at the monitor? Close them and perk up your ears. Something that appears innocuous could be the next thing that makes your head explode with ideas.

Even listening to audio books or reading books, of any genre, including non-fiction, can be a source for inspiration. Don’t like how an author phrased something? Figure out how you would do it differently. Then think about it again. How you can make it better. How you can add a twist and a turn or a whole entire plot behind the one little change you made because you disliked a phrasing. There are so many things, so many ways that you can take something you dislike and turn it into something that becomes beloved. (I do this with my daughter. If she complains about what I made for dinner, in my head I change it to “thank you for feeding me.”)

I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from. Keep up a file that you type the random things you hear. Is a coworker being a little on the rude side to a customer? Write down some of the snarky things they say that are making your ‘oooh, they’re being awfully rude’ antenna rise. You can use that as inspiration for several things. Frienemies, mainly.

Use the sarcastic one-liners from your kids or that coworker that annoys each and every person. They can be a catalyst in some way. Perhaps some sarcastic thing they say sets your character off in a direction they never thought to go. Perhaps it’s the last straw and they snap. It’s these little details that create a better, richer story. It’s going beyond the five senses and into the psyche of your characters. WHY did they snap when someone was trying to be funny? Did it bring up some ugly past memory or perhaps reminded them of someone they lost?

I listened to this one book and — it was so awful that I ended up not wanting to finish it. I forced myself through it and I am so glad that I did. Not because I ended up liking it (I didn’t) but because I learned how badly an author can do something and use it to make me a better writer. Yes, my posts here are sometimes (more often than not) scatterbrained. I feel that my free-flowing thoughts that I share should be completely different from my writing. I want to attract you in long enough to get your attention and make you say ‘oh wait, is she talking about this or this down further?” which will, hopefully, draw you out to comment with your own ideas and experiences being a writer.

Regardless, keep your eyes peeled for interesting sights, keep your nose aware in case there are any interesting scents, your ears perked for what can be turned into juicy tidbits of fictional gossip, and well… I don’t recommend touching your coworkers but you can put something sweet onto your tongue to help keep your mood in a good disposition. And then look past that.

Someone came to me and told me straight out that they were in a grumpy mood. I didn’t ask why, but I did commiserate with them and then asked my muse what was possibly going on that caused a grumpy mood other than the weather. Don’t forget to visit with your creative department if you have one. They are always full of crazy, weird, and zany ideas. Now, go out there and keep notes on the conversations around you. It might just lead you to your next juicy story.

Sizzling Nibbles: Fit to be Yule-Tied

How will Maxine and Josephine deal with an intruder in their remote cabin? Read on to find out just what kind of punishment they’ll hand down. How will Liam handle these two feisty witches?


{You can listen to “Fit to be Yule-Tied” on DirtyBitPodcast!}

“Are you sure about this? I think it’s going a bit too far.” Maxine eyed Liam as he struggled against the bonds. Liam’s back was up against a pole, his wrists bound behind it. We’d made him spread his legs and tied his ankles to stakes. There was no way he’d be getting free.

“I’m sure. After a night of this, he’ll learn his lesson.” Josephine had a wicked smile on her face. The sliver of moonlight lit up her eyes, giving them a bit of an evil glint. Without another thought, she turned and headed back to the cabin half a mile west of where we’d bound the intruder. “The Goddess will take care of him and we’ll grab our camping gear. We’ll keep a bonfire going and that way he won’t freeze to death. Okay?”

Still unsure, Maxine reluctantly nodded her head. Liam was a big man, half a foot taller than Maxine, broad-shouldered, with hard muscles. Tattoos covered his arms, chest, and back. Prison tattoos Josephine had said. He looked hard when he had broken into the cabin – but now he looked desperate. Almost scared. The cool wind blew his long hair in his face and he tossed his head like a horse does when a fly is being a pest.

Maxine followed Josephine back to the cabin to gather things she knew they’d need that Jo wouldn’t think to get. They both returned a half an hour later to setup camp. Maxine dug a little hole in the sand for the bonfire while Josephine setup their cots and then gathered firewood and kindling.

Once camp was settled and the bonfire flickered hotly in the dark, Josephine pulled out her craft tools. Maxine watched on, a wrinkle in her forehead showing a slight amount of distress that had wormed its way inside. She tried to push away the fear, but it latched on like a leech. Most people who practiced the Old Religions were hacks, but Josephine had some kind of spark. She could make things happen and when Maxine was there, it only got stronger and weirder.

Josephine chanted quietly under her breath as she went through the motions of drawing the circle, calling on the elements. Liam struggled even harder and looked like an animal caught in a trap. When he started howling and screeching like a wild animal, Maxine sat on her cot and pulled her knees to her chest. She couldn’t take her eyes off Liam. She watched the way the firelight glistened off his skin and the way it glowed showed he was sweating bullets. The fact that he was naked had nothing to do with why Maxine couldn’t stop looking at him, but the warmth growing inside had nothing to do with the bonfire.

Maxine held herself tight, then tighter. Her heart pounded in her chest and felt like it was going to burst out at any moment. Finally, Josephine closed the circle and the feeling of insects crawling on Maxine’s skin vanished. Even Liam calmed, hanging a bit from his ropes, trying to catch his breath. His eyes still rolled wildly. Anytime they looked at Josephine he flinched.

“It is done. I’m strangely exhausted. I’m going to sleep. Maxine, please keep watch.” Josephine curled up on her cot, carefully drew the blanket over her and was out cold within moments. It was the one thing that Maxine was jealous of when it came to her friend, her sister-witch. Maxine always had trouble sleeping, the dreams and nightmares that plagued her kept her tossing and turning.

She was determined to see the night through.

***

Liam ached everywhere. His wrists felt like they’d never recover from the rope burns. His legs felt abused and weak. Breaking into the lone cabin in the middle of the desert was looking to be the most stupid move he’d ever made. All he’d wanted was some food and water, but when he’d been caught, he got violent and now he was trussed up like an animal.

The woman that was forcing this slept peacefully. He glared at her. He had to get free. Looking over at Maxine, he wondered if he could convince her that he wouldn’t ever do this again. Instead, the woman’s eyes were closed. Growling out of anger, he struggled again, but then she was there, in front of him, her nose almost touching his.

“Be calm.” Instantly, his body went limp. Maxine stood there, but her eyes were closed and her mouth hadn’t moved. There was a glow about her and he had no idea what to think. Inside, he was panicking, but outside, nothing about his body would respond.

Maxine, but not Maxine, caressed his face, his neck, down his sweaty chest. The women had tied him here, naked. Like an animal. Maxine’s hand continued down his body, following the lines of his abdominal muscles. The only movement he could make was to breathe. “You are a gift from my daughters. You’re to be my Stag. I’m not sure if you’re worthy after you attacked them the way you did. But you are strong and I sense a loyalty within your soul. I shall have you.”

Liam groaned in pleasure, the way she ran her hands along his arms, massaging and healing the aches and pains of his recent torment. But the healing went deeper the longer she touched him. He felt things inside resolving themselves, his soul felt less broken and battered. His mind cleared from the past abuses he’d suffered. It was as if he were being remade.

Laughter filled his ears and Liam couldn’t believe that it was coming out of his mouth, it was his voice. Cheer filled him and he felt uplifted in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a child. Whatever was inhabiting Maxine had somehow fixed him.

“Much better, yes?” The voice Liam heard was inside his skull and it freaked him the fuck out, but he felt as if he’d been exalted somehow. He nodded to whatever being inhabited Maxine’s form. When she stepped back, the smile went away. She didn’t go far, though. Using Maxine’s hands, she undressed the body she’d taken over.

His eyes roamed over Maxine’s flesh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman and now, in this weird fucked up way, he might be about to get laid. With a snap of fingers, Liam’s bonds vanished and he felt to the sandy ground. “Come lay with me, my Stag.”

Fear enveloped him but didn’t stop his cock from becoming engorged. He felt as if she might have something to do with just how hard and ready to spurt he was. Maxine stepped to the center of the circle. Clover sprouted from beneath her feet to form a soft bed. As she knelt, she spread her legs wide.

“Come lay with me, now.” Something flickered and Liam felt something inside push him towards the woman. He didn’t need the prod, he was more than willing to plunge himself into her as much and as hard as she desired. Liam fell to his knees before this Goddess and she pushed him onto his back.

As she mounted him, a trickle of fear niggled in the back of his mind. Maxine, with the glowing skin and closed eyes, slid down his shaft until their hips met. Liam groaned and began pumping up into her, bouncing her up and down on top of his rugged body. Her hands grabbed his shoulders and he grabbed her hips.

The Goddess pulled him up with strength he wouldn’t believe and he sucked one pert nipple into his mouth. Pleasure engulfed him, moans of the Goddess filled his mind, driving him mad with both desire and insanity. Her hands fisted in his hair and he sucked harder on her breast.

As they rocked and bounced their way to bliss, the glow around Maxine grew in brightness. Liam had to close his eyes but that wasn’t enough. He used one hand to cover them, a scream leaving his open mouth as he exploded deep within her body.

***

Maxine awoke, the sun breaking over the ridge. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, soreness in places there shouldn’t be any made her pause. She was cold and realized why when she saw her clothing scattered on the ground. Liam was gone. Maxine looked up, some movement drawing her eyes to the top of a ridge where a huge White Stag stood proud. Fear trickled through her as she felt his eyes on her. The stag dipped his head as if he were acknowledging her, then headed down the other side.

Attempting to breathe, Maxine looked over to Josephine, but she wasn’t there either. Her cot and sleeping bag lay empty. Swallowing hard, she stood and gathered her clothing and whatever else she could carry.


I hope you enjoyed this Sizzling Nibble for the holiday.

Blessed be and do no harm.

You can listen to “Fit to be Yule-Tied” on DirtyBitPodcast!

A Penny for Your Thoughts: The New Year Resolution Trap

Prolific

A friend of mine found a way to have a New Year Resolution without actually making resolutions. Instead of saying “I’m going to exercise more.” or “I’m going to spend less.” or “I’m going to learn how to do {insert wishful thinking here}.” you choose one word to help you grow throughout the year. Last year she chose “Enough”. In doing so, she learned how to say “I’ve given enough of myself.” and “I am enough. We are enough. This is enough.” I took this in another way to apply to my writing. My word for the year was “Prolific”.

I had meant to write a post about it, but it’s in my ‘dead post’ folder, ironically enough. However, I do feel that I have been prolific when it comes to writing. I’ve participated in 24 Masturbation Monday posts. I’ve published thousands of words in short stories. I’ve written many posts and I couldn’t tell you how many tweets. I’ve written countless emails and participated in private chats. I feel that I have been prolific in my writing this year compared to last year.

And now it’s almost time to choose a new word. This kind of scares me because Prolific has been such a great word. While I didn’t do anything special with it, like create a background to remind me (since more often than not, I never see my desktop wallpaper), or even put it on a post-it note, I could’ve done more. I had plenty of lazy weekends and lazy weeks and ‘I’ll get to that tomorrow’ moments.

Am I being hard on myself? Yes. And no. If I wrote 750 words per day this year, I’d have 273,750 words. Oh wait, this was a leap year. Make that 273,500 words. That’s 6 novels I could’ve written (45,000 word range). That’s 70 short stories. (4,000 word range). Or 10 novellas (27,450 word range).

So, am I being hard on myself? Absolutely. I could’ve done so much better if I had done as little as 750 words a day rather than 0 words for several days or 0 words for lazy weekends. Instead of choosing a word like Prolific for next year, I’m going to look into something that can encompass more than just writing. I have no idea what that word will be yet or what my goals will be for 2017 (hahahaha.. goals?), but I do want to be taken seriously as a writer. Which means I need to start writing every single day, just like I intended when I created this website originally with the name Write Every Day.

What do you do when it comes to New Years? Do you participate in creating Resolutions and if so, do you keep to them? Do you wish to join me in choosing a Word to represent what your goals are for the year? I promise, it’s not so harsh when you fall off the word wagon as it is when you fall off the resolution wagon. Share your thoughts in the comments or write a post and share the link.


Another thing my friend says is when things get complicated “Do the Next Right Thing” which is excellent advice when you’re swamped or overwhelmed or being slammed and have to figure out what the fuck do I do now?

Masturbation Monday: Memories of You

Oh this super short Masturbation Monday entry could be taken a couple of ways and I’m going to let you, that’s right YOU, decide. It could be a the end of a relationship, or the loss of a partner, or something else entirely. Either way, I hope you feel the deep abiding love.


When I woke, my hand was already wrapped around my hardened shaft. The dream had been so real, so vivid. The memories hit me hard. The way her lips felt against mine, how I could feel her mouth curve up as we kissed. Her nails scoring my flesh as she rode my body like a maniac. Sounds of flesh slapping and her moaning combined with the way she soaked every inch.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it was inevitable. People have to sleep or go insane, but I thought I was already there. I followed through, remembering her whispers in my ear asking if I liked the way she did something or if she should do it another way. My toes curled as pleasure swept through me. Memories of her tangy scent filled my mind so strongly I could almost smell her there with me.

A groan fought its way from my lungs and out of my mouth. I clamped my lips shut promptly to keep from being heard. Eyes shut tightly, her laughter fluttered through my mind as thoughts of her kissing her way down my body caused muscles to tighten. I pinched my nipples hard, wishing that her teeth were clamping down on them with just enough pain to set me off.

The way her long chestnut curls would drag along my skin, tickling me and making me twitch with heightened desires. When the memory of her mouth wrapped around my cock hit, I couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to hold back and blasted my load all over my stomach. Sweat broke out on my skin and I kept wanking, kept yanking, until the last little drop.

Laying there panting, I fought the memories, tamped them down, shoved them into a box to seal away. At least until I woke again with her name on my lips and the feel of her nails against my skin.


In case you’d like to hear the song that inspired this story.


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please come visit others to see what they’ve shared!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

Adventures in Writing: Cheesy Christmas Movies

Cheesy Movies Abound when Christmas comes around!

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/169236898469042289/

Confiscated with Love and Hilarity from Pinterest.

And more often than not, I end up watching them. They are so cheesy that you can’t not watch them. Sometimes, I laugh, sometimes I want to cry, and other times I just shake my head. There are Bingo cards for Christmas movies. Did you know that? I didn’t. I bet there are drinking games that land people in hospital, too. Easy on the eggnog, sweetie.

However, more often than not, a writer can learn from these cheesy holiday movies. There are so many people who LOVE these movies, and don’t get me wrong, I may cringe occasionally, but I know that I can learn something from them. Here’s what I’ve noticed so far:

  1. The heroine is always the one who’s overworked and underappreciated and moved from her small town life to the big city. Pick a big city, any city, they’ve all been featured. Just kidding. Usually, it’s New York or Los Angeles from what I’ve noticed because… obviously there aren’t any other big cities in America that can turn a small town girl into a jaded holiday Scrooge like they can….
  2. There may or may not be a guardian angel involved, figuratively or literally. You have your actual angels because the heroine has died or gets to repeat the day until she gets her life back on track such as groundhog day or is sent back in time when her life was perfect. Then you have your angels that make them realize there’s more to life or Christmas than what they think, there’s more to what’s going on with their partner than they think. Sometimes the angel is there to earn their wings.
  3. She left the man of her high school dreams for the big city because she had dreams. Or perhaps they broke up for some reason. Either way, they were the talk of the town back then and had everything going for them, until some perceived slight sent them in opposite directions until something draws them back home.
  4. If not 3, then there’s a current partner who is jealous of the high school ex-boyfriend who’s still living in the small town and still has big love for the fish… er woman who ran away to the big city. They may end up reunited because the current partner ends up being an ass.
  5. If not 4, then they are thrown together somehow, the ex high school love, or the ex fiance, whatever the case may be, until they fall madly back into love with each other and work things out to get engaged or married and live happily ever after.
  6. If there is an ex-high school love, or a forlorn guy from high school that had/has the hots for the heroine, and the heroine is engaged or with a partner, there will always be hilarious jealous sniping between the two men. The heroine may or may not witness this intermittently. When she does, when it gets to the “OMG, this guy of mine is ridiculously jealous and has gone off the deep end…” she’ll toss his ass to the curb and run off with the guy who truly loves her when she realizes what a jackass the guy she’s with truly has become (or always been).

I’ve also noticed that if there are any gay relationships, it’s always a friend of the heroine or maybe the brother of the hero. It’s also never a lesbian relationship. It’s also a very small part. They’re only there to lend a shoulder or a helping hand when something goes wildly off the tracks to bliss.

Don’t get me wrong, the stories are good, if cheesy. They make people warm and fuzzy and fill them with hope to find true love or renew their own love. And, you can learn from them as a writer. You can take the cheesy story and make it a little bit higher of stake. You can add some hot steamy sex scenes. You can shred these and mash them together. Perhaps write your own Christmas Fuzzy Love Story about a lesbian couple. Perhaps one of them hasn’t come out to their family and are afraid they won’t be accepted. Maybe their Christmas Wish is to be accepted for who they are and that their family will welcome their partner with open arms.

I’ve also noticed there are more non-white people in these movies, which is a blessing. With everything always being so very white, it’s definitely noticeable and definitely a plus. What are your favorite cheesy Christmas movies? Or do you avoid them altogether in favor of something else? If so, what do you watch or read to avoid cheesy holiday movies?

Behind the Scenes

All the Thoughts

I’ve been making little updates here and there. I switched the slider over to Random to have some fun. I figure since the first five posts are right here on the front page in all their glory, maybe people want to read other things that haven’t seen the light of day lately.

Making that change showed me how many posts needed to be updated with Featured Images and so forth. I haven’t added tags to all of them, but I’m not going to worry about that too much for older posts. I have been working on some posts, but I’m not happy with them. I’m not sure if they are dead posts or just not there yet.

Television and Writing

I watched the Victoria Secret Fashion Show. I followed the Tweets for the hashtag #VSFashionShow and was happily surprised while being disappointed and appalled at people. Victoria Secret models work hard to look the way they do. They workout. They are fit and healthy. They eat whatever they want unless they don’t want to have a heavy exercise regimen.

People were saying things, the usual things. Like eat a sandwich or cheeseburger and along those lines. Then you had the people who were emotionally hammered because they didn’t look like that. And then you had the jokesters saying they were eating pizza or ice cream and with lots of happily crying and laughing emojis. Then you had the random person take a photo of themselves fake-drinking a bottle of bleach. The lid was on the bottle. I’m sure they were doing it as a joke, being funny, but it didn’t feel funny to me. This young, pretty girl took this photo and it made me wonder how many people saw that and thought dark, horrible thoughts about themselves because if this pretty girl is joking about it, what chance do they have?

There are too many people hung up out there on outside image. If you aren’t thin, you aren’t pretty. If your thighs touch, you’re fat. If this, then that. It’s sad. It’s the state of the world.

I also started writing a post about how erotica and porn aren’t the same. I still believe that. Erotica, to me and some others I’ve chatted with, means everyone is happy, sex is consensual, everyone gets off, no one is being exploited. Porn, to me, means someone is being used in a way that makes me make that ugh face. I’ve watched porn to get ideas for positions or to verify something about an idea. I much prefer the films at www.FrolicMe.com – and that’s not just because I’ve written for them, it’s because you can tell everyone is happy and delightful and having a good time. No one is being forced into something that makes them uncomfortable and it shows. Just my two cents.

More Television, More Writing, Calls and Classes

Other things going on… I’m still working on Flashed on Friday for the 7 days of sin series. I need to write my 1200 word submission for the Big Book of Submission. I am thinking of also writing for the Sexy Librarian’s Dirty Thirty – it depends on how I’m doing after all this other writing. I’ve also signed up for Rachel Kramer Bussel’s last Between the Sheets class. Yeah… I’m freaked out and elated all at the same time, but when I found out it was the last class, I couldn’t pass it up. That starts in February.

I binge-watched Lethal Weapon on Sunday and have fallen in love with the show. I take back everything I said about it. Riggs is the type of guy who will get Roger home to his family and I love this version of Roger and Trish. I enjoyed them in the movies, but the way they are written in the show as a power couple really makes me happy. I think they need to have more sex, though. (Just a thought on how Trish teases him so…)

I also started watching Westworld… and holy fuck that show is fucked up. That’s the only way to describe it. I plan on finishing the first season this weekend. I never read the novel it’s based on, but it makes me wonder and I may have to just to see if it’s as fucked up as HBO has remade it or not. Curiosity and all.

Well, that’s all that’s going on. It’s Thursday so that means the new inspirational post will be coming out for Masturbation Monday and Supernatural is on tonight. I hope you have a smutty day.

Masturbation Monday: Full Holiday House

How do you feel when your home has been run over by people for the holidays? Are you filled with happiness and laughter at all the jokes, stories, and tippling? What if the house was so full you couldn’t breathe let alone take care of your needs?


masturbation-monday-week-118

I couldn’t get away. The house was filled to the rafters, or so it felt. Every room had two or three people sleeping in them. Hot water was in short supply. The holiday craze, I called it. I had invited a handful of people like me – people who didn’t have any family to go home to, single people who didn’t want to face their relatives again, those who couldn’t afford to get there. Those handful ended up being an extra twelve in my little Cape Cod house. I had two bedrooms and the top floor I’d renovated into a studio. People had brought sleeping bags. Sleeping bags!

Regardless, they’d also brought food and toiletries. They brought laughter and companionship. It truly was good for the soul not to be alone on the holidays, at least for me. I may drink a little too much, laugh a little too loud, but when people were around me I didn’t spiral down into the dark place I kept tightly locked up.

While having people around for the holidays was wonderful, there was also the issue of finding a few minutes alone. A few minutes to breathe. To not listen to the same story again. I only had a few more days to go and then classes would resume, college life would be back in full force. I had talked everyone into playing a drinking game. Halfway through, no one noticed that I hadn’t opened a new Twisted Smirnoff. Drinking clear alcohol meant you could switch to water when everyone else was trashed.

Everyone was passed out cold. I slipped into the bathroom and took a long, deep breath. Freedom. After locking the door, I stripped my pajama pants and panties off. I slipped into the shower and leaned just so against the wall. My fingers slipped between my legs and I went to town. With my free hand, I pinched my nipples and squeezed my breasts. I sunk my nails into my thigh. I clamped my lips together to keep the moans muffled. My eyes closed and my head pressed back against the tile. Heat flooded my center and shot out to the rest of my flesh. Temporarily sated, I relaxed. Hopefully, it would keep me through the next few days.


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please come visit others to see what they’ve shared!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

Sharing is Caring: Featuring Dr. J

Here we go my lovelies! Another awesome erotica author worth your precious reading time. Meet Dr. J. She’ll tantalize you with a little bit of teasing and a lot of hot, naughty sex. Please enjoy this Excerpt from Topping You included in the perma-free anthology Women on Top.


womenontop“Mr. Lewis, your desires are clear. I’ll take care of crafting the details of this experience for you. You will receive a confirmation email upon the scheduling of your event. Before you leave, I have one more item of business.”
“Yes?”
“I need to photograph your body, naked.”
“Is that so?”
“We want a record of your body’s appearance in case there is any question after your session—an insurance policy so to speak.”
“You’re saying, no photographs, no service?”
“That would be an accurate statement.”
“You intend to do that now?”
“If you don’t mind.”
Dane Lewis stood and slipped off his dress shoes while Ms. Lyons came around the desk with her camera phone. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and unfastened the cuff links before removing the shirt. He sensed that his little strip tease was generating some response from Ms. Lyons and was amused and pleased that when he stepped out of his trousers in full commando, his cock was erect, and he smelled arousal in the air.
“Shall I pose?” he said in a teasing voice.
“Uh, no. I just need front and back pictures.” She clicked a picture of him and his erection. “Turn, please.” His tight ass became the focal point. Two sounds caught his attention. A tiny moan escaped from Ms. Lyons, and then a sound like a chair moved and scraped behind the window.


brapurplebeads-100x100-1mbBio: Dr. J. arrived at her writing career after being a condom packer, sex educator, sex therapist, and finally a college professor of human sexuality. Using her vast knowledge and experience of sexuality and the mind, she continues her education efforts to integrate positive sexuality into the human experience through her stories. She writes within the Romance and Erotica genres. Living the island life on the Atlantic coast, Dr. J. plays petanque, knits, and supports all the visual and performing arts of the area.

You can find Dr. J on the following Social Media and Author Sites:

TwitterFacebook | Amazon Profile | Smashwords Profile | Website

Random Facts About Dr. J.: I am crazy about the acapella music group Pentatonix- PTX. My flip flop collection is outrageous. I have skied the Tasman Glacier in New Zealand. Purple is my go to color. I am a TRUE LEO.

Check What’s Up: Lazy Days

What’s been happening offline.

(Or, excuses for having two Masturbation Monday posts in a row.) 

Yes, I still feel quite bad about having two Masturbation Monday stories in a row. I feel lazy that I haven’t written anything else for the blog, but I promise there was writing! I finished a short story and submitted it to the call for Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 3. I know they get a ton of submissions and have to narrow it down, but I’m truly hoping to be included. Wish me luck!

I also plan to write something for the Big Book of Submission, Volume 2 and that deadline is literally around the corner. While many of the things I write here at the blog are short for Masturbation Monday and Sizzling Nibbles, it’s become increasingly difficult to write short. Which is not a bad thing because the goal for me is to transition into erotic romance. However for the BBoS, the story has to be 1200 words or less. How to choose the words?

In other news, I’ve finished 7 seasons of Gilmore Girls and finished season 1 of Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life. I thoroughly enjoyed A Year in the Life. I enjoy the fact that things in Stars Hollow haven’t changed, at least not too much. Things are still crazy and dramatic with goofy characters. I still wonder if Kirk ever moved out… I don’t remember it being mentioned.

Watching television is fundamental to writing. The same thing with watching movies and reading books that are both in and outside of the genre in which you write. You can learn how to write fast-paced, drama-filled, over-the-top emotional dialogue from watching Gilmore Girls. Although, it seems they’ve slowed down a bit for the new show. The only one truly speaking just as fast and just as judgmental is Paris Gellar. She hasn’t slowed down one bit. It makes me wonder what she truly thinks of Rory since they were so competitive through high school and college.

Sorry, I don’t want to give too much away if you plan to watch and haven’t or are still watching the old GG before the new GG. Back to the news.

I still have Flashed on Friday from the 7 days of sin series to work on. However, it’ll be on hold until I finish my submission for BBoS for obvious imminent deadline reasons. Thanksgiving was good. I don’t celebrate, I don’t host, I don’t go anywhere. I stay at home making it one less person out there on the roads. I prefer being at home watching tv, movies, reading, or writing (usually all four). Holidays for me lately are quiet time. No drama, no crazy, no crying children, no yelling adults, no one drinking too much to deal with the people around them.

Now, you’re tilting your head wondering ‘WTF is up with her? Holidays and family drama are perfect for writing fodder!’ 

True, they can be. I just prefer staying away from it. I overhear all kinds of drama at work and can utilize tidbits from that in my writing if I need to amp up the tension. I just dislike drama. On top of that, I’ve been accused of causing drama, which is interesting being as I tend to keep my mouth shut. Not entirely sure how silence and a raised eyebrow causes drama, but there you have it. (My raised eyebrow must have a mouth all its own that screams out drama-laden obscenities and sarcasm.)

Christmas and New Year’s will also be spent mostly alone. I’ll open presents and have breakfast with my daughter and her boyfriend, and then they’ll go spend time with his family or doing other things. It’s a nice routine. I enjoy a good start to the morning and then having the rest of the holiday to concentrate on other things.

I’ve also updated the Fix-It Fast Series book page in case you haven’t seen that yet.

Have you ever used family drama in your own writing? If your family knows you write and your pen name, did you get caught using family drama as fodder? If so, did it cause tension and more drama in your personal life? Share your thoughts in the comments about using personal experiences (with details and names changed to protect the innocent, of course) in the comments.

Masturbation Monday: Orgasmic Awakening

Normally, I wouldn’t post two of the same type of content back to back. However, binge-watching Gilmore Girls, the holiday, and writing a story for the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year Volume 3, I’m a little behind. Enjoy this super short hot story for Masturbation Monday! Lucid Dream or Astral Projection? You decide.


 

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The weight on top of me felt divine. Most people might feel claustrophobic or trapped, but not me. I felt safe and secure. A loan moan escaped me, muffled by the pillow and darkness. Stubble and soft kisses brushed along my shoulder, neck, and back again. I moaned again, intentionally.

Hands slipped beneath me, pinching nipples and squeezing breasts, back and forth, pinch and squeeze, pinch and squeeze. I couldn’t squirm, couldn’t move, could barely breathe from the overwhelming need to climax. The edge was right there. He was teasing me, holding me on the edge, moving in a rhythm that defied the gravitational pull of the climactic edge. Digging my nails into the sheets, my moans begged and pleaded for release.

A chuckle, a brush of fingertips along my side, down my thigh. There was another person in the bed. I turned my head and shock ran down my spine. A man I could barely see in the sliver of light was stroking his cock. My mouth watered. I tried to shift but a quick change in rhythm had me caught in a web of orgasmic bliss.

The man beside me moaned as he clutched his length, speeding up his strokes, until streamers launched from the head of his cock. One thick glob hit my cheek which caused me to soak the thick cock inside me as my cunt sucked hard and fast, pulling him deeper inside.

Hot breath engulfed my neck as my partner panted, then began moaning as he plunged into my heated, soaked pussy. I came again, almost screaming, with pleasure.

Moments later, I woke, one hand sticky and wet between my legs, the other clutching my breast with nails. The dream was vivid that I could almost smell the sweat and ejaculate from the men. I rolled over, flipping the dim light on that wouldn’t hurt my eyes. I saw claw marks dotting my left breast from my own nails. I grabbed my dream journal and started scribbling the details I remembered.

I was a skeptic and had never believed in lucid dreaming or astral projection before. I needed to confer with the two guys who had been training me over the past two months to see if they had the same experience I just woke up from. If so, it was a whole new realm of sexual exploration open to the three of us.


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please come visit others to see what they’ve shared!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

Masturbation Monday: Retrieval Mishap

Welcome to another entry for Masturbation Monday! I hope you’ve enjoyed the short stories I’ve shared here and that you’ll continue to visit. This story “Retrieval Mishap” goes along a bit with this week’s inspirational gif. A bastard ex-husband sends in a retrieval expert to get his signed Babe Ruth baseball. It’s not where it’s supposed to be and … well, read and find out what happens.


masturbation-monday-week-116I watched as I took slow, deep breaths, through the slats of the closet door. I had watched and waited for three weeks before pulling this job. I would’ve waited another three weeks but the husband was adamant that I get his signed Babe Ruth’s baseball back right fucking now. I added another twenty-five percent onto my fee. I was still shocked that he agreed to it. The idiot was really freaked that she was going to sell it before he could get the courts to divvy up their property.

So, here I was, stuck in the fucking closet on a Tuesday fucking afternoon. The last two Tuesdays had proven perfect. Unfortunately, the pattern hadn’t kept. For the last two weeks, I’d been watching Sasha as she left for work, ran errands, and returned home. I had detailed notes. Now I was a fuck-up away from being caught.

She’d come home not ten minutes after I finished searching the rest of the house for his precious baseball. It hadn’t been in the office where he told me, but I could see it from the closet. It was sitting on top of the dresser. Sasha stood in the center of the room, a hand on her hip, her head cocked slightly to the side as if she were listening. And she probably was listening. For signs of an intruder.

The locks were easy to pick. The house alarm had been laughingly simple. But now there she stood, sure she’d heard someone. I knew there wasn’t a scent trail. I had no cologne, no scented soaps, no scented laundry detergents. She must have heard the closet door slide closed, but perhaps not. She hadn’t checked in here yet.

Sasha shrugged, shook her head as if clearing her mind. The strawberry curls bounced as she shed her suit jacket and tossed it to a chair. Then came the blouse. She stripped off her work pants as if she knew someone was watching. Sasha bent – folded herself in half almost as she lowered the waist of her pants. I gulped, my mouth opened and I took a breath. A loud breath according to my ears.

In moments, she was stark naked. Her skin was that pure alabaster. It looked like cream, smooth and freckle-free. I couldn’t believe it. Not a freaking mark. I rubbed my chest when I realized my heart was pounding like an out of control drummer.

Sasha rubbed her breasts, a thoughtful look on her face. They were full and the nipples perked right up. I licked my lips. I shouldn’t be watching this. It was stupid. I should close my eyes and go into a meditative rest. I should wait until she’s gone to grab the ball. What if she wasn’t leaving anytime soon? Unless she had already eaten, I was fairly sure I wouldn’t be stuck in the closet all night.

I couldn’t stop watching though. My eyes wanted to take in every inch of her. I had wondered if she was a natural strawberry blonde and the proof was right there, trimmed neatly between her muscled thighs. Harley had warned me she was an excellent shot and I had seen the targets downstairs stuck to a cork board to prove it.

Sasha rubbed the back of her neck, then slid her hands back to her breasts. She pinched her nipples and I wondered if she was biting back a moan with the way her teeth sunk into her lower lip. I wanted to bite her lip and her nipples, her neck and her thighs. My pants were getting uncomfortable. She wasn’t close enough to hear me breathe but she may be close enough to hear me adjust myself. I needed her to move further away.

I tried to focus better on my breathing to control my cock but it wasn’t having any of it. When Sasha stepped closer to the closet, I almost gave myself away by rearing back. Years of hard-earned self-control kept me from moving, kept me from breathing. Then she paused, snapped her fingers as if remembering something, and walked back to the dresser.

She bent over and I unzipped my pants. My cock felt much better now that it was free of the tight confines. I wanted to suck, lick, and bite her on that white ass of hers. I wanted to know how many smacks it would take before turning cherry red. Probably not that many. I wondered how many smacks she could take before begging me to stop.

She pulled out a box from the bottom drawer and set it on the bed. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but her moans drove my pulse through the roof. I was breathing harder now, but she was all the way across the room. My cock pulsed with need while I watched. I wrapped my hand around my cock and squeezed rhythmically.

When Sasha turned around, she had nipple clamps on. I almost lost my load on her closet door then and there. I clamped my lips together and breathed in deep. The scent of her detergent filled my sinuses and I breathed out slow, counting as I went. I hoped not to sneeze because that would be bad.

When she laid back on the bed, heels on the edge, thighs spread wide open, my heart tried to fly out of my chest. She caressed her thighs and rubbed her hips, which caused her legs to widen even more. After a few moments, she put her hand in the little box and pulled out a toy. “Oh, yeah, now we’re getting somewhere.” I barely breathed.

She turned it on and placed it against her pussy, pressing it where her clit hid. A moan that sounded like relief swept through her. I watched as her pussy grew moist and started to glisten. The sounds coming from Sasha grew louder, I could see her head thrashing back and forth, the nails of her free hand dug into her thigh. I stroked faster as she slid the toy down and fed it to her sopping wet hole.

The nipple clamps came off one at a time. Sasha was thrashing on the bed, moaning loud enough to annoy the neighbors if any had been home. She rocked back and forth, nails digging into her side, her breast, and back to her thigh. I grunted, biting my lower lip and coated her door in white streams. I placed my arm against the door jam and watched while she caught her breath. Sweat had soaked through my t-shirt. I kept watching as she calmed and put my clothes back together.

Sasha stood and cleaned her toy. Everything went back into the box and then she bent over showing off that apple-bottom ass again to put it back in the bottom drawer. I watched while she walked over and paused in front of the closet. I held my breath and stared at the nipple I could see through the slats. After a few moments, she continued into the bathroom and closed the door.

I heard the shower turn on and music followed. As soon as I heard the change in the water, I slipped out of the closet, strode over to the dresser and grabbed the Babe Ruth ball. As I left the bedroom, I heard the bathroom door open and I froze on the stairs trying to listen but I couldn’t tell where Sasha was in the room. Taking a chance, I went as quickly as possible down the stairs and out the back door.

I pulled out my cell phone and texted the bastard that I had the ball. I’d wait a few weeks and keep watching Sasha, bump into her a few times, and then ask her out. Sometimes what someone tossed away was another person’s treasure.


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please come visit others to see what they’ve shared!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

A Penny For Your Thoughts: Cliches and Tropes

You’ve heard ‘that’s been done (or said) a million times already’. However, the reason that tropes and clichés work is because they’re cliches and tropes. 

You just have to find your own unique way of twisting them. Think about it… every sitcom has zingers and one-liners. Look at 2 Broke Girls compared to Mike & Molly compared to Mom. While the storylines are different for each show, they have the same type of running jokes. They have romance, struggles, and comedy. They’re all family-type shows; even though Caroline and Max aren’t related, they, and their coworkers and neighbors are like family. Plus all the episodes about Caroline’s father, and the running jokes about Max’s mysterious father and non-caring mother. I actually hope to see an episode of her father showing up one day. I’d love to see what she’d have to say to him.

Mike & Molly shows how hard it is to fall in love when you’re overweight. They show how difficult it is to struggle with addictions to food and shopping. They show you how expensive it is to move out on your own. 2 Broke Girls shows how difficult it is to live in a big city, how you have to work several jobs to attempt to make ends meet; and how difficult it is to deal with life in general when a family member has ended up in jail by scamming billions from others. Mom shows you what I would consider a little more realistic view of addiction issues. How every single day is a battle not to fall off the wagon. And then having to go through your children (and grandchildren) who are predisposed to these addictions starting to test the waters with alcohol and weed.

Then look at the cop shows. You’ve got CSI (NY, Miami,Cyber), Criminal Minds, NCIS(and LA and NOLA), among others.

They’re troped up to the gills. Someone dies. The cops do their initial legwork, cue the geek heroes to match fingerprints, DNA, and find out what obscure tidbit of info will find the killer! Chase scenes, possible shooting, perhaps an injured main cast member! Catch the bad guy – or not if it’s an Arch Nemesis that takes a season to catch. Ending with the moral of the story or everything will be okay scene, credits. People love or hate procedurals, they really do. In a way, you can even think of Supernatural as a procedural with Paranormal Elements thrown in, except instead of catching the bad guy, their looking up how to kill the monster if it’s not already known.

These types of shows give you enough character background, enough history, and little details that you fall in love with their strengths, quirks, and more.They hook you into the show. It doesn’t matter how many times a main character screws up – unless they go ultimately evil (and if you’re a Supernatural fan, you probably love the villains, too) then you hope for everything to go right.

Look at your Political shows such as Madam Secretary and Scandal.  

Two completely different shows, both swimming in deep waters when it comes to Washington DC and the many things in the dark we don’t know about. In real life, people beg and plead for transparency, but do they really truly wish to know the details? Look at Blacklist. All about people who are so evil, so horrible, that the government will deal with another just to wipe them off the face of the planet, or put them in jail.

Did you know that Criminal Minds bases their show on true stories?  

They have to water them down so that they can be aired on television. And if they didn’t, not only would they not be able to air them, we probably wouldn’t leave our homes after seeing the gory truth.

I use these shows to learn more about writing. Yes, I’ve mentioned it before: that you can learn to write better from watching television and movies. Just don’t be like me, where you get sucked into the show and then binge-watch it, and forget all about the writing. You can learn how to convey emotions through facial features and gestures. You can learn fighting scenarios.

You can learn different ways of pissing people off.  

Have you ever watched Scorpion? Walter tends to piss people off without meaning to, or even trying. Sometimes, I feel he does it on purpose (truly the CHARACTER most likely doesn’t even realize it), but more often than not, he has no clue. The rest of the team doesn’t let him off the hook though. They explain to him why what he did or said is hurtful or wrong. Walter apologizes – but does he ever really learn?

There are reasons why these tropes have worked for as long as they have. Just like Cons, it’s really hard to create a new trope. It takes years upon years for something to become cliché. But that’s not going to hobble a good writer. A good writer can take a cliché, they can take a trope, and twist it. Give a bunch of kids pipe cleaners and tell them to use their imagination. You’re going to get several different versions of twisted pipe cleaner art.

People flock to websites with weekly prompts and those that use the prompt all come up with a different story for it. Don’t toss away a cliché story idea or throw out a trope simply because it’s been done a billion times. It hasn’t been done the way you’d write it, with the characters you’ve come up with, in the setting you create. So pick up that cliché, grab that trope by the short and curlies and figure out ‘what can I do with you?’

Every Genre follows the same set of rules.

Because they kind of have to. That’s why there are sub-genres. Pick up a romance book by any author and you’ll find that there’s a Happy Ever After. Pick up any Sci-Fi or Fantasy book and I bet there’s some kind of conflict that leads to war. Pick up a Western and there’s probably a saloon and some fancy dancing ladies. There’s nothing wrong with this, these things are there because readers expect them to be. If you don’t give them a happy ever after (or now) in a romance, then they are going to want to burn your book. So, yes, follow the genre rules, but twist them to your own character, setting, and plot needs.

What you come up with might just be extraordinary. Sometimes you crush it and other times you nail it and feel like you’re walking on cloud nine. Share your thoughts in the comments. What clichés and tropes have you worked with and made unique?

Beware of Scams: Cover Designers — Nicci Haydon

I’m sharing this because people need to know. There are so many out there willing to take advantage of a new author and it’s sickening. Authors need to step up more and share both the good and bad experiences with both self- and traditional-publishing. Whether it’s an editor who won’t get back to you, a cover designer that doesn’t have the experience they claim, or a publisher that completely ignores you – let someone know. Write a post somewhere, whether it’s on your own site or as a guest post, a reddit or KBoards. Share the issue. You don’t need to share the names publically. Just let people know that they need to do their research.

It’s time we banded together and helped each other. Honestly, there’s enough success out there to go around. Helping each other means better books, better covers, better money, and futures for each of us. Don’t let someone scam you just because you didn’t know any better. Do your research. Ask other authors for input – but don’t badger them if they don’t want to share. It is their right to keep things close to heart when it comes to these things.

Have you had a good or bad experience? Share it in the comments or link to a post for others to read it.

Learn from my mistakes.

via Beware of Scams: Cover Designers — Nicci Haydon