Saturday, July 30, 2011
is my favorite line from the five heart review of Schooling over at Sizzling Hot Book Reviews. For some reason, that little string of words just made me smile! Plus Schooling is up in the right hand sidebar for book for the book of the month poll. So if you read it and loved it go click that button for me, baby! Ooooh...wait...do it again...
That's the spot. ;)
Friday, July 29, 2011
has summed up my whole week and made me laugh so hard i cried my eye makeup off. so...i thought i'd share. happy friday! i start drinking in two hours and fifteen minutes if anyone wants to come say cheers!
on a few of my titles for your Kindle via Kindlegraph.com I think I added:
Learning To Drown
We Kill Dead Things Zombie Exterminators #1
No Guilt Zombie Exterminators #2
(((and hey yeah! I just turned #3 in today!)
Coupling: Filthy Erotica for Couples
Gritty: Rough Erotic Fiction
If you want my chicken scratch (at least the electronic kind) you just go and request it. If you have a title you want signed and it's not listed, contact me and I'll see what I can do.'
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I'm behaving and buckling down. (eesh). So I have this: an image from my brain the last lines I wrote in my current book.
“Is it wrong to want you more than food right now?” he asked, looking like some beloved villain from a comic book in the crazy light. “Is it wrong that all day all I’ve had in my head is the memory of fucking you?”
Meager but hey...I am sneaking in to say hi. "Hi"
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
*gasp* I love the feel of it in my hand (*snort* yes, am being deliberately dirty).
Yay! pretty contributor copies for Gritty!!!
Comparison. Wanderlust smushed between Gritty and Learning to Drown
I love a good sturdy book that can stand up for itself.
But seriously. It will be shrinking. There's large print and then there's redonkulous. I'm gonna drop it to a 10font and probably shrink it by a few hundred pages. (And drastically lower the price). Lord.
Something about this guy makes me feel like I'm in high school again. I had teachers like him!
I have some really nice reviews to share but am currently banging out some wordage and am too lazy to root around and find where I have all these little nuggets of kindness stored. So for now, just say it with me, people:....DENIM!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
It seems all these little things I don't let get to me have all banded together today to bring me rage. And yelling. And anger. And then on top of it I finally got something settled that I've been trying to settle for over a year and in the settling of it, my heart was just simply fucking demolished. It hurts sometimes to realize how very little you are worth to certain people. And the breaking of said heart just fucking pissed me off to no end because I felt stupid on top of sad.
I am recommending the man fit me with the above for his safety and the safety of our offspring. At least for today. By tomorrow I will realize how lucky I am and I should really just shake this shit off.
But for today, I just had a young man (who I had previously screamed at...but he actually did deserve it...but still...) wiping his mother's face with tissues. Of course he was smearing my mascara and making me look like a raccoon but that was basically to make me laugh. Because he is a clever, clever (and amazing) boy.
Tomorrow will be better. But for today, I hope you are faring better than self.
Bright side: almost 2K of new book and the best family ever.
Monday, July 25, 2011
into my book. I love this book! I love these characters. I love the setting and I get so excited to open the document and continue on with the story. I love all my projects but once in a while one feels super special and that's how I feel about this one.
I figured along the way I'd post pictures of some of the things that show up in my book. Those random little real touches you find in books along the way.
I just now wrote in milk glass. I don't collect it or seek it out but somehow I always come across it and buy it at flea markets and festivals and church bazaars. So here is a picture of milk glass. Tada! (LOL)
Hope your Monday's good. We are currently having thunderboomers :)
Sunday, July 24, 2011
shall be walked...if we can rouse him. It's super cool today! It's only 95 as we speak. You know it's a sad state of affairs when you consider 95 and humid "cooler". Jeesh. Off we go. Want to walk the dachshund now before he goes from just a hot dog to a cooked dog.
Happy Sunday. If you didn't win today, don't give up hope! I plan to do a zombie giveaway soon. One as a guest blogger and another one right here. So if zombies, lots of sex and excitement are your thing, stay tuned. :D
Saturday, July 23, 2011
but for some reason not showing me in the first four authors is my beloved...My dirty little bookie wook. Gritty.
Wooohooo! You can now get Gritty: Rough Erotic Fiction on Amazon.com in print. P-R-I-N-T! It is almost exciting enough to make me forget I have sneezed roughly fifty times today and am possible flirting with TDSC: The Dreaded Summer Cold. That's SUMMER and not SOMMER.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Don't know how long it will take to show up on Amazon.com but Createspace now offers Gritty: Rough Erotic Fiction in print. Print! woohoo.
Soon, I will order author copies to send. But for now, I am wiped from a few hours of activity. What beats being sick, period? Being sick in the summer during a heat wave. bleh.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
for Alison Tyler very recently, I found this picture highly amusing. Though the thought of mint there scares me to death. Heh.
I'm working on a new book, started today, we are still flirting with each other, this book and self. So that's your blog, folks. A strange could-be-read-as-dirty mint tin picture I forgot I had taken until I just stumbled over it.
Don't forget to enter my book giveaway. Below, below...down below! ;)
Sunday, July 17, 2011
I'm bored. Don't ask how. I have no clue. It's been a nice laid backish weekend. Baking (GF oatmeal raisin butterscotch cookies yesterday, GF pecan biscotti today). There've been walks with the man and the wiener, reading, gardening, homemade red sauce, working out, writing (almost done zombies!) and watching Warehouse 13 season 2 with my minions. But I am bored-ish.
So, I'll give away a book :)
If you'd like a chance to win a nice shiny paperback copy of Learning To Drown just send an email to hot4sommer [at] yahoo [dot] com and put PAPERBACK GIVEAWAY in the subject line, your name in the body of the email. I'll choose a winner next Sunday.
You'll need to be willing to give me your mailing address if you win. And if you'd like to see some of what's being said about LTD go here to Goodreads.
Happy Sunday. Almost dinner time. It's a meatless day but I made veggie red sauce w/GF pasta and the man made some kind of fried corn cake pita-ish thing that I cannot pronounce or spell but man, we sampled one and, whew...GOOD!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Ah today...turned in the book that has been seriously kicking my ass. And then...this...*sigh*. Available at ARe, Smashwords, Bookstrand right now. I am working on Kindle and will be moving on to print when time allows. Yay! (Isn't Willsin's cover just so yummy?)
Like I said that book was kicking my ass. I had some serious tension going on. And at about two o'clock I had already worked out. Which meant, I either had to drink wine right out of the box or...candy run:
But I couldn't resist getting some of nature's candy too...
And then the mail came and tada! Galley for Gritty! (again isn't Willsin's cover yummy?). And that is a celebratory glass of wine because I had finished the final of that book that would not die...
And here is the back. She's as sexy going as she is coming, no? Heh. That was a sweet ass joke...cause it's the back...never mind.
I plan to try and veg out a lot and only write some this weekend. Kind of come down off the crazy week. Anyone have anything exciting planned???
Thursday, July 14, 2011
I was stripped, redressed in a complementary paisley dress (my dress accented Jack’s) and white go-go boots.
I'm posting one of my favorite snippets ever because I am trying to work on this final, restless and basically have a bee in my bonnet. LOL. So here's a giggle (I hope) on me.
From CALENDAR GIRL by Sommer Marsden
I put the breaks on when we rounded the stage and Jack reached for the backstage door. ‘Wait, wait! I can’t. I can’t!’ I could feel tears pricking my eyes and my heart was damn near ready to burst out of my chest.
‘You can. You really can. You’ll be great. You just need to relax,’ Jack said softly. He talked to me the way one would talk to a spooked horse. Smart man.
‘I can’t,’ I whispered, tugging harder.
‘What was Mom drinking the other night?’ he asked me, completely shifting gears.
‘Mom. What was she drinking the night she climbed in my cage?’ Lisa looked up, shocked, opened her mouth to speak. ‘Later,’ Jack said. ‘Long story.’
‘Long Island Iced Tea. Why?’
Bubbles came passing through. Tonight she was a vision in shocking lemon yellow with disco ball earrings and jewel-encrusted stilettos. ‘Bubby! A LIT! And make it snappy. We have a nerve emergency.’
‘Be right back, baby,’ Bubbles yelled and hurried off.
‘A LIT?’ Lisa asked.
‘It’s a bar full of men in drag and horny men and curious men and women too. We need to abbreviate as much as possible. It’s like ... a hospital.’
‘Yes, Jack,’ I giggled. ‘That’s exactly what it’s like. A hospital.’ I snorted but then Bubbles was filling my eyes with shocking sunshine yellow and thrusting a tumbler at me.
‘Drink this. You’ll be fine, honey.’
I took a sip. ‘I don’t think this is going to work.’
‘You have to driiiiiink it,’ she said and tipped the cup so the sweet liquid flooded my mouth. It didn’t even taste alcoholic. Which is why they were so damn dangerous. He tipped about half the tumbler into my mouth, forcing me to spit or swallow. Age-old dilemma. I swallowed.
A warm kind of euphoria flooded me almost instantly. ‘You can do it,’ Jack said again, hustling me up the three steps. He took the offered tumbler of liquid courage and hauled me backstage.
Lisa followed behind, taking in every sight and sound of the backstage scene.
What happened next was a blur. I kept sipping my drink and watching the literal crew of men who rushed at us. It reminded me of a pit crew at a car race. I was stripped, redressed in a complementary paisley dress (my dress accented Jack’s) and white go-go boots. An immense green wig and the makeup ... well, I can’t even begin to describe it. When the crush of burly half-in drag men stepped back, a stranger stared back at me.
I turned to find Lisa and found my doppelganger, only her wig was hot pink. Dear God. We looked like candy-coated sixties sirens. ‘Wow,’ she said.
Anxiety curled in my belly but it was swiftly battled by the effects of my drink. ‘Wow is right,’ I said.
Jack came in, clapping his hands like a headmistress and studied us. ‘My, oh my, you are no drag queen but you are fetching. Good to go, then. We’re on in five.’
‘In five minutes I’ll be racing across the parking lot,’ I said and shifted from foot to foot like I had to pee.
Jack shook his head and handed me the glass. ‘No you won’t, because I’ll tackle your ass. Drink.’
Nowhere to run ...
I was in hell. This was hell. This was what Dante wrote about in the Inferno. I stood behind my gyrating brother with one of my best friends at my side. Her hot pink wig shook as mine shimmered around my face, plastic strands of lime green hair invading my mouth and sticking in my frosted pink lipstick.
You’re no good for me ...
Jack was lip syncing the shit out of this song and Lisa and I were doing our best to do a good job with the Vandellas backup bits. I missed my queues, ran long and basically willed the stage to open up and swallow me. My dress was a bit too big as it had been sewn with a large-ish man in mind. My boots were so big my feet had slid forward and I was teetering as I did my grand hand gestures. My wig was slipping and my fake lashes were poking my eyes. How did they do this? Why did they do this?
Lisa’s wig slipped sideways and she grabbed it on the downward slide. We glanced at each other and my anxiety took the reins. All I wanted to do was run like the wind. A gaudy sixties streak of hair and white leather boots.
Instead I shook my shoulders and tried to keep up. Then I made the colossal mistake. I jumped a bit too high and stumbled in my boat-sized boots and the whole fucking house of cards came crashing down. My hair slid forward, tangled in my rhinestone eyelashes and then slipped down the front of me like reanimated lime-green road kill. I snatched it when it hit waist level and just held it there. Lisa’s eyes widened and when I heard the snickers from the packed audience, I looked down. Only to realise that my lime green hair now resembled lime green pubic hair. Without thinking, I tossed the damn thing over my shoulder and the audience laughed for real this time.
Inside I shook and shivered, but I kept shaking my groove-thing until Jack did his final dramatic flourish. He turned to me, seething. Lisa turned to me, laughing. I just turned and ran off the damn stage like my ass was on fire.
Jeffrey was on me before the curtain stopped swinging. He was valiantly trying not to laugh, after all it would make his eyes tear and then he’d run his makeup. ‘Girl ... that was the ...’ He shook his head, biting his lip. ‘No words. I have no words. Now, I’m on. You want to do backup?’ he asked, before cracking up again.
‘Stuff it, Cloville,’ I muttered.
Jeffrey kissed Lisa and told us to wait for him. She went out to watch his performance and I stood there wondering where the fucking pit crew was to get me out of all this crap. A steady stream of people were approaching Jack and I waited. There would be venom spilled when he was done addressing the masses. When he finally came back to me, I held up my hand. ‘I know, I know. I ruined your show. I’m sorry. I told you not to take me up the–’
‘Are you kidding? They loved it! Everyone is saying the same thing. So funny. So vaudeville. Good to see the humour back. Merritt! You were a hit!’
I shook my head. ‘Don’t even say that.’
‘Say what?’ Here was Lisa again, her bright pink wig perched precariously atop her own dark hair. Jeffrey came down the back steps and we all stood there like some gaudy flock of birds.
‘They loved her!’ Jack told her.
‘Of course they did,’ Jeffrey said. ‘They love a good laugh. She was great.’
They all twittered around me and I stood there stunned. ‘You done for the night?’ Jeffrey asked my brother.
‘Just the one show. You?’
‘Finito.’ Jeffrey hooked one arm through my arm and one through Lisa’s. ‘Let’s all go out. Few drinks. A few laughs. It’ll be fun.’
Lisa was nodding merrily. I forgot, she wasn’t around us a lot so she was enjoying the sparkling insanity of being around these two. I shook my head no.
‘Come on, Merritt,’ Jack said and stomped his size 12 boot.
‘Come on,’ Jeffrey and Lisa sang out in unison.
‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘Just let me change.’
Jeffrey put a hand out to stop me. ‘Oh, honey, it’ll be so much more fun if we go like this.’
I looked down at myself through the cockeyed bangs of my green hair. I looked like I was wearing my aunt’s kitchen curtain and Herman Munster boots. ‘In this?’
‘Sure, it’ll be fun. We’ll go out and get drunk.’ Jeffrey said.
‘Speaking of which, hell, shouldn’t I be drunk? I drank the equivalent of a bottle of hooch.’
‘Oh, you did not,’ Lisa said. She grinned at me, loving this whole maniacal scenario.
‘It eats right through the booze. The booze is only a temporary fix,’ Jack said.
‘What eats right through the booze?’
‘Adrenaline, baby,’ Jeffrey laughed. ‘It’s the only way to fly.’
They hustled me out into the night. It was pretty much a blur until we hit Captain Fred’s Fish and Chips stand. I was drunk as a paisley skunk. We’d hit our four favourite bars and created quite a good natured stir. I dance with Lisa. Jeffrey danced with Jack while I gave a nun-like order that they keep a ruler’s worth of space between them. We all danced together and I even danced with my brother. But when the bars booted us out, Jeffrey turned and said, ‘I could destroy some fish and chips.’
So there we were, in line and Lisa leaned in. ‘What’s all this business about the sex toy boy who wouldn’t you know ... do you, but he got you off. Fill me in entirely.’
Drunk and not in an emotional pain at the moment, I was all for it. I didn’t notice how close we had shuffled to the counter.
Lisa’s eyebrows went up as we once again moved toward the counter. ‘Really?’ she said when I told her about the clitoris extending under the outer lips.
‘Really,’ I said. ‘Did you know the clitoris can actually be up to six inches long?’ She kept shaking her head and shaking her head and shaking her head. ‘What?’
‘No. I didn’t,’ said a male voice. ‘Care to tell me more?’
The fish and chips guy smiled at me.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
I’m not afraid of scars. Truly. They don’t bother me, and if pressed, I’ll tell you that they’re rather sexy. I have a big one on my left bicep from a spider bite that had to be excised. One on the back of my left knee from same. I have chicken pox scars everywhere (matching ones between my thighs where I put my thighs together and…squish). I have many, many scars. And my fair share of moles.
So on this blisteringly hot Baltimore day, while still waiting to hear any kind of word on my Grandmother’s state, I had a first appointment with a new doctor for a head to toe skin exam.
First of all, any new doctor torques me up. Doctor’s appointments tend to torque me up in general. And being a moley motherfucker [though my other grandmother called them ‘beauty marks‘], I was very torqued up.
It started okay. They were SUPER nice and her assistant came in and said, “You are not thirty-nine.”
Which flustered me at first so I brilliantly stammered, “Yes, I am. Why…what did I write?”
“No you wrote that, but you really do not look it at all.”
Oh! Blossoming, blooming happy smile. Thank you, thank you! Good stuff.
So then the doctor comes in to see me and chat with me while I sit there in my undies and the worlds largest cocktail napkin. Then she starts the exam. Me standing, giant napkin gown technically off but clutched to my chest as she checks me.
She asks me what I do and I say writer. Then she asks me what I write and I report “Romance” but without air quotes(!) because basically that is what I do. I write romances that tend to have tons of boffing. But ya know, we don’t need to go there with me naked wrapped in a napkin now do we?
And she checks me.
And she is constantly moving the napkin this way and that way but I am holding the napkin which in an extreme moment of flustered anxiety and annoyance just seemed so STUPID. I mean, I am an adult. Hell, I am almost forty. And they are only tits. And she is a doctor. And I mean really…how much more of me is there to look at? I mean, right?
So I say: “Can I just drop this thing?”
“Whatever you are comfortable with.”
So feeling very liberated and brave and forward thinking, I slap my paper napkin on the table and stand there starkers but for some bright yellow Victoria Secret panties.
Because surely she is almost done this part of me!
She checks me and checks me and checks me and thank you baby Jesus I am not a larger person because I’d still probably be there.
Then she says, “Get up on the table on your belly.”
Hmph. Because now I have to maneuver in front of very very very small scant slight tiny Asian woman who looks like some gorgeous figure from a painting…naked.
I felt like Gulliver streaking past the Lilliputians.
And I get up there and she checks…and checks…Jesus, between my toes too!
And I am saying to myself, this…this is how I write those goofy, flighty heroines that people always ask me how I write. Because I am them. So I say to self, it is okay because this will be really good in a story and it doesn’t even matter if I look like a moron…Om…
And she says, “Now on your back.“
And then I have to roll over so I do a floppy awkward I am naked but now I refuse to drop this fucking napkin gown now that I have retrieved it--which might I add--is suddenly the MOST LOVELY piece of clothing ever roll. And…gasp…finally she is done.
And I have to have two moles removed and I will have two more sexy scars but they will be nothing compared to the scars I will carry inside for having done the “I am so fucking clever let me just be naked in your presence” panty dance.
And that’s how you NOT to have a dermatological exam.
p.s. I think I need to buy my new shiny doctor that awesome Steth0scope ID Tag
but not for what you might be thinking. Read possibly one of the nicest reviews ever. Five divas given to moi by Donna. It came at the perfect time, during a very stressful day where I could use a bright spot. And it made my day to hear that her husband read Allure, too!
And for those of you who follow me on Twitter and Facebook, I have no update on my grandmother, but am trying to follow the no news is good news train of thought. Thank you all for you kind thoughts, prayers and good wishes. Even the man kept a hand on me all through the night (where I thankfully slept a bit better but not super). And trust me, I need reassurance if I'm letting anyone (barring an infant) touch me while I sleep. I am very much a you belong waaaaaaaaaay over there on your side sleeper. :)
Monday, July 11, 2011
Woohoo! First official review (to my knowledge) of NO GUILT is out from Sizzling Hot Book Reviews. Big fat smile. I would say more but i think I might have gotten three hours sleep last might. Maybe. I am stupid sleepy due to watching a particularly unsettling Criminal Minds at 11.30 pm like an ijit and then scaring the shit out of myself and creating a panic attack and...well, I am tired. Let's leave it at that.
So, yay for four hearts and Poppy and the boys and zombies and sex. Woop! Oh, and I am writing book three as we speak. Well, not as we speak, but as soon as I finish typing I'm back at it. ;)~
Sunday, July 10, 2011
I don’t consider myself an expert. I don’t consider myself an anything at all if you must know beyond a busy working writer. But I do consider myself to have manners. And manners are manners are manners, my friend, regardless of venue. So imagine my dismay at finding that about 50% of the submissions that are coming in for my newbie writer call are coming in sans an introductory note.
No note. No nothing. Just info and a document attached.
I might take this chance to point out that one of the first ones to arrive with a note was from a writer I had already established a rapport with, so that person would have been forgiven more than others. And yet, there it was—a nice note.
So newbies, let me take this chance to say, if you are going to submit anything…anywhere…at ANY time, have some manners. Show good breeding and at the very least have something like this:
Dear Editor (use the name if possible!),
Attached is my story titled “STORYNAME”. It’s approximately 1,000,000 words in length.
HERE IS WHERE YOU CAN ADD SOME CREDITS IF YOU HAVE THEM. IF NOT, DO NOT WORRY. SKIP THIS PART.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
YOUR NAME HERE
That is a bare bones note. And you should always add it. Otherwise you are doing the written equivalent of going on a job interview, walking past your interviewer, not shaking his or her hand and sitting down in his or her guest chair and slapping your resume on his or her desk without ever having the courtesy of saying hi. Would you hire you if you did that?
The goal of this antho was to help new authors get a leg up. That also includes pointers and tips on getting published often. Tip #1…use your manners.
If you passed along my call, I’d kindly ask you to pass along a link to this blog also. :)
Saturday, July 9, 2011
oopsie, I forgot what day it was. You can blame the man. He's been off for a week and tonight he scrambled my brain by being filthy. But it's Saturday and Charlotte Stein (she of the brilliant book, see below) has another excerpt of mine on her blog. Woop woop!
So, my exercise addiction is back to 150% just like in the old days. Today was 65 minutes on the bike in front of Starsky and Hutch while stealing sneaks at passages from KD Grace's book The Initiation of Ms. Holly. And then kettlebells because I do not want my upper half to collapse into my lower half.
I love Starsky and Hutch. Love, love, love. And yes, being born in 1971 (which used to sound so recent and now sounds so fucking far back) I LOVED THE SHOW. Truly. I had pale yellow tee with a Starsky and Hutch iron-on on it. And I had a Starsky and Hutch play set complete with plastic gun and handcuffs (that I promptly handcuffed my BFF to the oven door with and proceeded to lose the key. My mother had to butter her wrists to get her free). So, I am a total 70s child.
Anyway, you are so welcome for this clip and that rambling blog about nothing at all. Ha!
p.s. Anyone who says endorphins do not make you happy is not sitting on my numb ass right now. *snort*
p.p.s. I guess I should write something now, hunh?
Friday, July 8, 2011
I rarely ever do this, but I so very much LOVED this book, that I wanted to post the review on my blog. If you do not own it, get it. Top/bottom/middle of the sandwich person. Whatever you're into, get it. You'll like it. Trust me. (Esp if you love some humor with your filth).
Review of Control by Charlotte Stein
by Sommer Marsden
Urgh! If I had six stars to give, I'd give this book six stars. I adored it. I more than adored it, I adored and worshiped it and ate it in three big bites.
One of the most original erotic novels I've ever read. I loved every single character, including the one I wasn't supposed to, but secretly sort of was. Which means this book was pretty much finessed out of its pretty little panties (I imagine them to be yellow for some reason)
The most brilliant part was the tension, sexual and otherwise and I'd read sections where I became so turned on I thought I might die of it (or possibly explode spontaneously) and then I'd turn the page or read the next line and there'd be some incredibly clever line and this huge burble of laughter would just rush up out of me and I'd think: "oh. oral orgasm."
Because that is what it was to a T. A pressure build up and then an extremely well executed release.
Trust me, Control, would make me want to try topping if I weren't such a good bottom. So, bottom line: fabulous, funny, filthy. The perfect erotic novel. I loved Charlotte Stein before but now I'd like to move to Whereverthehellshelives and open a dirty book store with her. Maybe she'd make me stand in a corner. If I'm lucky.
Seventy trillion stars!
No, I haven't lost it.
So many people are doing Christmas in July stuff this year, I figured I would too. Four of my Christmas titles (Fixation, A Pinch of Spite, Kinky for Christmas and Eating Cookie) are 50% off for the next two weeks at ARe. And I'm doing a Christmas in July guest blog soon but more about that later.
This is very much a fly-by. The more Zen I try to become, the more opportunities drop in my lap, the busier I get. So...the trick is then to see if I can swing it, remain calm, carry on and not do my impression of a Chihuahua on crack by flipping out entirely.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
I must be plotting to die at 80 on some level. Cause I think I'm mid-life crisisy. I’m almost 40 and this year seems to be my year for low self esteem, extreme swings of self doubt and more than my fair share of self loathing. Hmph.
For about 48 hours I’ve been licking imaginary wounds and trying to nurse myself through an extreme case of I-suck-as-a-writer-itis. Don’t get me wrong, I got that as a newbie too, but the bouts had more of a rat in a cage feel to them and were shorter lived and usually came on the tail of an acceptance and I’d think oh shit! What if it was a fluke! In fact if you go to my old blog, Smut Girl, and do a search for cave dweller you just might find some. Now the periods are not as frequent but they are of much heavier fare. Sort of a leaden discontent and fear that bounces around like the world’s heaviest ping pong ball, ricocheting off my bones and filling me with the very scary urge to lie down in the middle of the floor and refuse to ever write again.
Melodramatic, yes? Boy howdy, do I know it. But much like you can’t choose who you love, you can’t choose these moments of writer's malaise (that’s what I’ve come to call it, at least in my head).
So, what’s a girl to do?
Write one of your best stories ever in a single sitting, submit it and then turn around and be convinced you suck again.
Read some stellar smut that must makes you happy by a person that you LOLove
Watch Roseanne on TV Land
Just fucking surrender to the feeling
Ride your exercise bike until you hootle goes numb
Avoid FB and Twitter for large chunks of time because the devil invented them and sometimes they can make you feel worse instead of better and then you feel like a whiner
Threaten to never write anything but messages in birthday cards again
Buy $100 worth of workout clothes online because exercise is one of the few things that makes you really happy at the mo.
Read Carl Hiaasen and giggle.
Write more zombies
Proof your crime book (written as yourself) and hope it does not suck and absolutely do not let yourself realize that you wrote it because you might just give up the ghost and delete the whole thing and who knows it might actually be good when you come out of this funk and…*gasp*
Run errands, laugh with your kids and watch some show called Sons of Guns with the man (crush hard big-time on the big tattooed, bald, gun toting good ole’ boys)
Write more zombies.
A lot of writing for someone suffering writing malaise, yes? Well. It is my job and there is the lesson, no matter how I feel about my talents (or lack thereof) on any given day, I’m a writer. So I get up and drink coffee and bitch—and yes, sadly, maybe have a good cry and a pity party with my gluten free toast—but when all is said and done. I just fucking write. That’s what I do.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Up in a flurry(overslept)-->shuffle around to make coffee-->breakfast (thanks to a man who's off and cooked for me)-->dressed-->coffee to go-->bank-->Home Depot (80 million pounds of charcoal)-->grocery store-->errata-->haul kids to destination and drop off-->home-->spanking good afternoon fooling around (heh)-->50 mins on the bike (ouch!) whilst plotting dirty story for Alison Tyler-->shower-->arrive to pick up kids-->home-->chores-->errata-->write some zombies-->help with dinner (including muffins that sadly sucked)-->walk his fatness-->ah...wine and pajamas.
Busy day. Hope yours was spanking good.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Happy Independence Day! I hope it's wonderful and fun for you and yours (and safe). I had a bit of my own independence day yesterday. I finally busted free of trying to hide myself entirely from family. I sort of shucked the idea of shunning who I am and what I do and what I write. A family member I haven't seen in a while leaned in and asked me about my books and what I was writing. A lot of folks know sort-of-kind-of what I write, but I refuse to give my pen name or any of that.
I'm not sure if I'm protecting them or me.
This is entirely my doing, by the way. If I listened to the man, I'd be writing under my own name and anyone who didn't like it be damned. However, when I started the kids were wee and I was very much protecting them, which to me is my number one job between birth and well...forever, when it comes to my kids.
But I gave her my card and told her who I was and how things were doing. For real. I was honest.
I made myself a promise a few weeks ago when I was at the bank and the banker made a comment on my deposit. (We've known each other a while) I said, "They're royalties" and he said, "Oh, what do you write?"
I then horrified and shamed myself by saying "Romance" and doing air quotes. I entirely disappointed myself in that moment because what I do and how hard I work to do it deserves more than air quotes.
So, like I said, I gave her my card. Then I came home and had a conniption. Had I ever used her name? Anyone's name she knew? Last names of folks? Whose names, places, coloring, storylines etc? If you are a writer you know that your life shines through in your work. Sometimes barely at all, sometimes a lot. It depends. But if I wrote stories with characters named ONLY after folks I'd never known in my life, everyone would be named Mabel and Bryce and Hubert.
So, then I calmed the fuck down and decided that that this year I'll be 40. In about five short months. It's time to go ahead and be proud of what I do. And if you don't like what I do, then don't look. And if you like me but decide to treat me differently because of what I do then...shame on you. Not me.
Like I said, I had my own mini independence day yesterday. I'm giving myself the freedom to be me--all of me. It's the kick off to not trying to hide myself. Good stuff.
Now, we are going to eat some good food and probably veg out since we had our party yesterday.
I hope your day is full of awesomeness, fun and fireworks in whatever form you choose to experience them. (I prefer orgasms to actual fire in the sky)
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Um...no. No, I cannot. Maybe eventually. But not now. I feel like I can barely hold a pencil at the moment. Lucky for me, I have mad typing skillz no matter what. So now...on to the goodness!
NOR gave my humble zombie book (the first of two out) 4.5 stars! I am so stoked. I loved when the reviewer said: "must admit - to my great surprise - that I really love this story and can't wait to read the next installment. I want to know what happens with all four of these fighters, and I hope Ms. Marsden keeps them as likeable and smart as they are here."
Ha! Super. Read the whole review by Terrihawk here.
And now double awesome, I thought I was done putting up reviews of my first werewolf novel, Base Nature. That yes, I still have a soft spot for. However, Sizzling Hot Book Reviews gave it four hearts. And when the reviewer said this: "My biggest question: Is there anything Sommer Marsden can’t write?" I damn near melted with gratitude.
See the full review by Vicky here.
And last, but certainly not least, I am up on my partner in zime's (that is zombie crime) blog. Charlotte Stein was kind enough to host me and my excerpt from WKDT today on her blog. Yay! And thanks to Charlotte :)
And I think you're caught up. I have a ton to do today before a party tomorrow. We're celebrating early in our family because Monday the 4th, we have a family member deploying. Good thoughts for him and his wife and kids (and all of us extended family) greatly appreciated.
If I don't see you before the holiday, have a great one and BE SAFE!
Friday, July 1, 2011
You ever just get a feeling? I got one about two months back when I was flipping through a paper and saw a contest entry for a free getaway. Something inside me said 'self, enter this'. So I did. And I won! So this fall, the man and I have a free overnight getaway. A hotel, a wine tasting (how appropriate) and I'm sure some other fun stuff. I. Am. So. Psyched!
Can't wait. Can't believe I won. But unbelievably grateful that I did. Sometimes the Universe just gives you a wink. I got a wink today. Woohoo! :)
Hi. Umm, I’m Miz Angell, and I’m a sex-o-holic.
But you knew that already. LOL.
I’d like to start by thanking the lovely Sommer Marsden for inviting me to guest on her blog. I’ve never done this before, so please bare with me (and yes, I did spell it that way on purpose).
See, I’m relatively new to the erotica game. I was first published in Alison Tyler’s anthology Frenzy. THEN Sommer saw clear through to the heart of me – and published me anyway – in her small town tales of Kinkyville.
BUT, before those happened, I was a regular entrant in Alison’s flash contests. And I really enjoyed the creative process of having a limited number of words to create something hot, and steamy and that others would enjoy reading (and I won a few of them - not to BRAG or anything – ok, I am...)
Lately, Ms. Tyler has been so busy with her other projects, she hasn’t had time to host a contest since her first ever Project Smutway wrapped up a few months ago.
And that’s where I come in. I know that I was one of those writers that used the contests not only for fun, but as a way to get my creative juices flowing again. Soooo....
In case you haven’t noticed (and judging by the number of entrants – y’all haven’t) I’m hosting my first ever contest. Hot Fun in the Summertime (not Sommer-time, but that’s good too).
The parameters? Simple.
Five hundred itty-bitty words. That’s all you need. Inspired by your favourite summer time song, give us some hot, sweaty, dirty, smutty sex. On a beach, in a Woody, on a pier, or maybe just in your backyard hammock.
I did have the deadline as July 4, but I’m thinking that not everyone is around this weekend. So, let’s make it July 11.
No rules except for the usual standard NSW – no sex with – a) anyone under 18 b) animals (shifters don’t count for those paranormal writers) c) anything or anyone dead (again, paranormal creatures are the exception) . No scat. No snuff. Anything submitted along those lines will be disqualified, no matter how good you think it is.
Email it all to me – word format please – to angell dot brooks at hotmail dot com. OR, visit the link for the contest, and leave your submission in the comments.
Whether you’re new or established, good or bad, all writers are welcome.
Thank you Sommer for having me. I had a lovely time and the wine was incredible.
Happy long weekend everyone!