Saturday morning ramblings

Ah, it's the weekend. And I'm feeling quite lazy. It's 10:30am and I just had breakfast - not having gotten up till amost 10am - not at all like us.

Last night I made Jambalaya for the first time. It turned out wonderful. The recipe I used is here. While I was doing all the chopping and stirring the Hank Williams song was running through my head. After dinner I found this!

I love Betty Boop - had a tank top with a picture of her that I wore in college. Think it's still buried around here somewhere. And I have a button of a cowgirl Betty Boop - somewhere - yes - I'm the button slut.

This morning we were rudely awakened by a phone call - it was the oil delivery guys in the driveway - it was 6:30am - on a SATURDAY! Mr. Erobintica got dressed and went out to take care of them - in other words, write them a large check. He says they were a regular comedy team. Then I see the forecast for the next storm coming in - possibly up to 8 inches of snow. Well, we've got oil and we've got wood. As my husband said - "bring it on."

But right now it's sunny and nice - so I'm going to take a long walk and then come back and take a peek at the story I finished the other day. If my damn printer will work. It wasn't last night (yeah, I tried to print it out but the feed isn't working. I like to print out hard copies of things because I see stuff I don't see on the screen.

I'm nervous. I guess that's normal. It seemed really good at the time, but I know from past experience that often when I look at something again I'm disappointed. But while I was writing it I kept thinking of ways to extend the story. So, I don't know whether to (if it's any good) send it out as a short story or hold onto it and see if it develops more or, or, or... What do other folks do?

Okay, I'm sitting here and my mind has gone blank. The coffee doesn't seem to be working this morning. Maybe I'd better get walking.

Elbow Grease

Yesterday I spent most of my time working on a new story. It's the longest piece I've ever done in one fell swoop. It was mentally exhausting, but in a very good way. 

Today I need to leave it sit and ripen and so I'm doing physical things like rearranging bookshelves - something I've been meaning to do for a couple of months. 

I love doing heavy manual labor jobs. Am famous for doing things the hard way, like turning over the soil in my garden with a shovel rather than a tiller (okay, we have used one to break ground). This year I'm hoping to build myself a tiny writing cabin not too far from the tree here - a yellow birch - we've named it "elbow tree." 

So, time to get my ass away from this computer for a bit.

Happy Friday!

Whew!

Finished this story I've been working on all day. Someone hand me a towel. 

In Deep

Ever get going on a story and wish the whole world would disappear so you could work only on that? Dinner? You want dinner? Go away.

Well, I wish I could be like that, but deep down I'm a mom at heart, so I  have to take a break from something and fix dinner. A real quickie dinner. So I can get back to my story. I have to finish it tonight!

My husband sent me this link to a very interesting opinion piece at TIME magazine on the changing publishing business -  so I took a few minutes to read it. Very interesting. 

Contemplative

Today has been one of those days. You've had them. Little things happen that just make you sit back and say WOW. I was going to write more and embed a youtube but I think I'll keep that for tomorrow. Yesterday I said I'd post a poem and I never did. Today I'm in a different place - feeling very contemplative and as I was cruising through some old poems I came across this one and since it fits where I'm at today - I'm going to post it without dragging out the editor's pen. Can't remember how old it is, but I last revised it 3 years ago. Not quite a moldy oldy.

Chance
- The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.
Oscar Wilde

She tries to write a poem
about being invisible,
but the ink never appears
on the page,
the letters never appear
on the screen.
The thoughts that do come
she is unhappy with.
Discards them without
giving them a chance.

He asks the question
with the intention of just
offering up an interesting puzzle.
Which would you choose?
To be able to fly
or to be invisible?
Their children answer eagerly,
think this question fun,
give their answers,
then run off laughing.
It seems they all want to be
invisible, think of fun things
they could do if
given the chance.

She says quietly that she would
choose flight. She already knows
what it’s like to be invisible.
Spent years perfecting the skill of
fading into desks, walls, crowds.
All it took was a little bit of silence,
and poof! She could vanish.
Invisibility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
She would rather be able to fly.
Given half a chance.

Poetic Monday

Alphabetically, it falls at the end of my bloglist, but today it should be at the top. BadAssKona over at We Came, We Saw, We Came has a delicious poem posted this morning. Been trying to pick out a couple of favorite lines, but can't. Just go read it and see if it doesn't make you hungry too.

This follows Craig Sorensen's lovely dream of spring from Saturday. 

Makes me want to post a poem. I will have to search and maybe post one later.

Ice heavy on my branches

I've got the late winter blues. About this time of year, when other places where we've lived are experiencing the first signs of spring, the cold grip of winter starts getting to me. I find myself questioning the wisdom of my decisions - such as ... someday we'll be moving to someplace where winter is longer. It's not that I don't like winter - I do - but winter comes with extra weight that bogs me down. Physically and metaphorically.

So I sit here with the little cursor thingy going blink blink blink. Where am I going with this? Where am I going?

I guess I'm sort of at a crossroads with my life. Wondering where to invest my time. This week I got some disappointing news in my "other"  writing life. Not that I didn't expect it, but it still stung the same as if it came as a surprise. I'm not good enough. That's what the little voice was saying. Oh, I've tried to put on a brave show - but I'm sort of shocked at how much this has shaken me. 

And then I come up on the whole duality thing. I can't really talk about that part of my life here and I can't really talk about this part of my life there. Though they blend together in me, they are still separate to most of those outside of me. So I start wondering how far I want to go - with either.

I wonder how those of you who've been doing this for awhile handle the ... longing - to share successes and talk about what you're up to, when some of the people you'd like to talk to about this "don't know." How the hell do you do it?

In a way I've gotten used to being ignored in my "other" writing life - to an extent I guess. I do get some chances to talk about it - not the bragging "guess what I did" type but honest discussions of what it means to write - but often I get the feeling that the people I'm closest too don't "get it" and so I just shut up. Maybe we all do this. I don't know.

Now I've got this erotica thing - and while it feels wonderful to be finally allowing this part of myself to have a voice - it seems I've added a complication (in a way) to - blink blink blink - damn cursor - to being the "whole" person I want to be. Not sure if any of this is making sense.

What's happening is more and more I'm finding I have to bite my tongue in conversations because I realize the person I'm talking to doesn't know about this part of my writing life. And see? I can't even talk about what it really is about here - because ... because why? Because I do put a value on privacy. For my family, for me, for my friends. But writing tends to strip away that. Or it does if you want to share your writing. If I just wrote and shoved everything in a drawer I guess it wouldn't be a problem. 

So, guess I need to work this out somehow. I don't want to give up ANY of the parts of my life that make me whole. But it's complicated. And it weighs me down.

Cupcakes, cookies, crackers, chips, candy, condoms

That's what was on the tables at this past Thursday night's In The Flesh. Talk about a spread. I'm not much of a fan of salt & vinegar potato chips, but they sure tasted good with the gin drink I was having (can't remember the name, something rub/tub or tub/rub). And the mini-cupcakes were so delish I had two! One with yellow frosting and one with green. 

But first. My friend and I arrived at the Happy Endings lounge to join the group of shivering folks waiting for the doors to open at 7pm. One of those folks was the evening's "star" herself, Susie Bright, complete with tiara. They did finally come and let the folks that were reading in - which was good - otherwise their teeth would have been chattering still as they read. 

EllaRegina spotted me and introduced herself. I have to say it was incredible fun to "meet in the flesh" someone who I'd met in blogland. Just as nice in person! I also ran into a couple of the folks that were in the class I took last week. *Waves*

EVERYONE was nice! I was trying to think of a word to describe the feeling I got ... and the word that popped into my mind was "wholesome" - isn't that hysterical? My husband laughed when I told him that on the phone. But it's true. I've been to plenty of other events where I felt quite uncomfortable - but I didn't at this. And maybe that's just me - I do feel a whole lot more comfortable in my own skin these days. 

Rachel Kramer Bussel arrived with her bags in tow - does she always carry as much? She had them last week too. The plates of goodies and other assorted sundries where placed on the tables and the readers started. Although the night was primarily dedicated to Susie's X - The Erotic Treasury, the first up was Maxim Jakubowski, who read from  Rome Noir, complete with background music. The readers all had about five minutes, so most only got to read an excerpt from their story. Paula Bomer read from "On The Road With Sonia," which I hadn't read yet, but it will be next when I sit down with the book.

I don't remember the exact order of readers (sorry, that's why Donna George Storey's accounts of her book tour are so impressive to me) - so I'll just list them. It also seems that not everyone read their story that was in X, but that didn't matter - they were all great. Ernie Conrick, Chelsea Summers, Nicholas Kaufmann, Lisa Montanarelli, Tsaurah Litzky (complete with Santa hat), Martha Garvey, Marcelle Manhattan (who read her story immortalizing In The Flesh and whose blog seems to have been hijacked so I won't post a link), Rachel, and last but not least, Susie. The entire evening's readings were great - we were laughing, squirming (in a good way), and quiet, often in quick succession. 

There was a bookseller on hand, but I did not even go and look, knowing it would be dangerous territory for me. Hi, I'm Robin and I'm a bookaholic. My friend did buy a copy of X and got it signed by all the authors on hand. I had neglected to bring my copy. Oh well. I'd figured it was heavy and my bag was already loaded down. I did however get my well-worn copy of How to Write a Dirty Story signed by Susie.

All in all it was a delightful evening. My friend got me back to the subway (seeing as I'd taken the scenic route to get there) and I caught my train and got home about 1:30am. Long night, but fun. I will do it again!

Because I couldn't decide which ones to use, here's the flicker page with photos by Stacie Joy.

This is so cool!

Just saw this mentioned on Violet Blue's blog - a new online mag - Carnal Nation. 

I'm not going to get ANYTHING done today!

Country mouse visits the city

Last night I went to In The Flesh for the first time and had a wonderful time. More about that later. The trip in on the train was spent listening to a guy telling the whole world (because he was on his cell) about his getting laid off that day. I took along a library book to read - Mary Roach's Bonk, which is wonderful and diverted my attention. 

Didn't have any trouble until I got off the subway and got turned around (I'd left my walking directions home) and headed off in the wrong direction from where I was meeting my friend.  Note to self: get one of those little compass thingys so I know which way to go. A long walk later (and I'd been feeling guilty about not getting enough exercise the past couple of days so I ended up getting some - exercise - a walk) - we met up and all was well. Well, except for the fact that the battery in my cell phone/camera was dying. Today I go out and buy a new battery. So, no pictures. :-(   But when they're up, I'll link to some of the readings on YouTube. 

Sorry I have to just give this teaser - I have some stuff I have to get done - I slept in and got a late start. But I want to write good descriptions since I don't have any pix. More later - I promise!

Erotica 101

Okay, so this happened a week ago - how time flies. 

Last Thursday I took the train into NYC to attend Rachel Kramer Bussel's Erotica 101 class. It was held at 92YTribeca. There was a little bit of confusion because while it had been originally billed as Erotica 101, it later was described as an Erotic Love Letter writing class, complete with a cocktail - some chocolate cherry concoction what was ... okay. Needless to say, everyone except the teacher had one. Luckily it really was Erotica 101.

Rachel had us mainly do a mess of 5 minute writing exercises (I love writing exercises!) 

- a story with a chair

- a place in NYC

- write from gender or orientation not your own

- food

- someone famous

- a letter telling someone a fantasy you've never told them (guess this was the "letter" part)

- part non-fiction, part fiction (rewrite a less-than-ideal experience but make it great)

We also had the opportunity to read what we wrote to the room (there were seven folks in the class) - and I actually enjoyed that - my days of being afraid to read my writing out loud have been left in the dust of years and years of writer's workshops, etc. I've read (and performed) some of my erotic poems before, but this was the first time to read prose. I got a lot of good starts for things - I'm just warming up at 5 minutes - but still haven't had much of a chance to do any concentrated writing. Rachel also had some handouts and sent us all home with a book - she had several copies of Frenzy, which I already had, so I picked Tasting Him, which I  haven't even had time to nibble at. 

So, it was a fun evening. Though late because it was well past midnight when I got home. Then I was back in the city the next night (for poetry) and now again tonight to go to In The Flesh. I'm feeling just a little intimidated - it's supposed to be a huge evening and I've never been to it before. But, I have to hear Susie Bright read in person (been a fan for umpteen years).

Caught up

Well, I'm now caught up with posting my itty bitty stories. This was the one inspired by the seven words. You know - Saint George - Carlin that is.


Hmmm. I guess Firefox and Safari have different opinions on font size. Oh well. I'm going to bed.


Medium Drip, For Here

Whenever I write those words, I get a tingly chill. Fuck. Makes me want to look over my shoulder, see who’s watching. Cocksucker I don’t use often. Not sure why. Doesn’t do much for me. But, if I write the word cunt, I can feel it right there.

As I spell it out – c-u-n-t – it crawls up into me, makes me squirm a bit.

He wants to watch me write a dirty story. We go to the little coffee shop, bring our laptops, arrive separately, pretend not to know each other. Order drip. He sits across the room, facing me.

This is hard. I’m too aware of him there, seeming to ignore me. Aware, too, of the other people in the shop. I angle myself so that my back is towards the wall and start typing. Soon I forget where I am, that he is watching. Now he is in my brain.

You pull me into the curtained area where the supplies are kept. Reach your hand under my skirt, brush lightly, teasingly, between my legs. I’m crazy with need and knowing this, you sink gathered fingers into my wet cunt…

Later he tells me that he could see me get excited as I wrote. Saw the flush in my cheeks, saw me press myself into my seat, saw me breathe faster.

I pull your cock out – bend over – you push into me – I bite my lip – gotta be quiet.

Somehow I've fucked this up

What the hell did I do? Can anyone help? The posts are there in the list to the right, but somehow I made them disappear from here.

And now it's fixed. Unless by editing this to add this line I make it all disappear again. Ack!

Okay, if this is fine, I'm done for the night. 

And another one

Okay, now I can't figure out why blogger insists that the type in the previous post must be small - I keep telling it to make it "normal" and it won't listen. Just like my cats.

So here is my Take a Picture entry.

Tearing Down the Darkroom

“Seems such a shame.” Kathy said.

“Yeah, but I never use it anymore. I just plug the digital into my computer. Photoshop does the rest.”

They stood in the doorway of the little room Mark had built in the basement years ago. He thought of the time he’d spent there, agitating trays, watching the magic happen. He missed the smell of developer and fixer. He stepped inside. Switched on the safelight.

Kathy followed him. Let the door close behind them.

“We never got to fool around in here what with the kids and everything.”

She slid her hand over his butt. Gave it a little squeeze. Mark turned, pulled her to him. Eyes not yet adjusted to the dark, their lips missed, then met. In a sudden flash of passion, they groped like teenagers, fumbling at each other’s zippers. His hand slipped between her legs, found her already saturated. She pushed his jeans down and slid fingers through the opening of his briefs. He groaned as she stroked.

“Better late than never.”

Mark kicked their jeans aside and lifted Kathy onto the scrap of counter he’d installed.
“Oh! It’s cold!”

“My butt’s making a contact print”

“Gotta make sure I use the right aperture.”

Both laughing, she grabbed his hair, kissed him hard as he pushed into her. Wrapping her legs around him, she reached behind to brace herself and bumped the enlarger. In the dim light, glossy with sweat, silver glinting in their hair, their orgasms solarized them, left them clinging to each other, breathing heavily.

A knock came.

“Mom? Dad?”

Finally! Some more stories

Yeah, I haven't posted the last couple of stories I did for Alison Tyler's contests. For various different reasons.

I hadn't figured out why I couldn't copy and paste into my blog posts (because I was using silly Safari) and I was too lazy to type them in. (Stop Snickering - sometimes I can be dense). Okay, solved that one by googling my problem and now I'll do the pasting in Firefox.

Another reason is that ... well ... they didn't do too well (not that any of mine have done great) - and yeah, I know I know. But somebody (actually more than one) liked mine enough to vote for it. Plus, as Alison pointed out a lot of people read but don't vote. So yeah, this is MY problem and I had to get over it.

One other reason is that I'd had to edit these down, both in my head and typing to keep them to the 250 word limit. And I may want to rewrite them as longer pieces. So I was kinda "saving" them.

Oh, but what the hell, they're mine, right? And maybe somebody might want to read them. So I guess I'll post them. This one was for the Vote For Change contest in January.


A Changeover

My body has been humming all day. Anticipating tonight. As I drive to work - the darkened room. As I stare at my monitor - candles flicker on the dresser. As I sit bored in meeting after meeting - him on his back, his hands behind his head. Waiting for me. Like always.

That was the problem. Like always. Time for a change.

We start off the same. That’s part of my plan - him on his back on the bed. Me taking my clothes off. Straddling his legs, undoing his jeans. I slide my hands over his chest to his shoulders, bend and kiss his neck.

“You seem tight – why don’t you turn over and let me rub your back?” I whisper in his ear. “I’ll try this new oil.”

I massage his shoulders. Move down his back. Soon he’s making those getting turned on sounds. Kiss his neck again. Nibble. Scoot to pull down his jeans. He starts to turn over. I press him back down.

My hands get brazen as I begin kneading his tender buns, smoothing the backs of his thighs. He shifts, needing room underneath for his growing erection – yup, he’s liking this. But I’d never done more – until now.

I dribble more oil onto the small of his back. He mumbles something into his pillow. Trembling with excitement, I shush him. Slick, my fingers move into new territory. Sink into warmth. Change is coming.

Sometimes...

I don't think that what I do (be a mom, be a writer/poet) is of much value in today's world. Oh, I know it is - intellectually - but for far too long I couldn't see that worth for myself. My husband spent years trying to convince me, bless his heart. But it wasn't until recently - oh, in the past year or so that I started believing in myself. It's so damn fucking hard! 

This morning I read my horrorscope in the paper (I don't put too much faith in them ever since my husband told me how when he worked at a newspaper long long ago sometimes they'd get mixed up - I imagined all those little predictions fluttering to the ground and getting scooped up and glued wherever) - and it was one that gave me pause:

Self-approval is always of greater importance than acknowledgment from others. Don't let others make you think that you need their acceptance to have any worth. 

I had to get to a place of self-approval BEFORE I was able to start doing this erotica thing. Oh, I'd wanted to for years, but something always stopped me. 

Then after breakfast I start checking other erotica writer blogs and find that a question I'd posted in my blog the other day (basically - Why write erotica?) prompted Craig Sorensen to go deeper into his "simple" answer. And his long answer is wonderful. 

And here I'd been worried when I first started this that my blog was going to end up as some sort of lonely mental masturbation on my part. And I'm not ashamed to admit that it gives me little bit of a thrill to see that what my brain finds interesting - well, that other brains find interesting too. Thanks Craig.

And here I want to take a moment to thank all the other writer/bloggers who have welcomed me and put the little linky things to my blog on theirs and well, shit, I'm getting a bit emotional right now. So - THANK YOU - all of you who are reading and commenting. 

Under a blanket

of exhaustion today. This week has been a gogogo week and today it's hit me and I'm so tired - it's already past noon and I feel like I'm just waking up.

But I did get up and make crepes with sliced strawberries and whipped jersey cream (I blended up the crepe batter then crawled back into bed while it "sat"). Mochas made with Peet's coffee and more whipped cream. I do love whipped cream! 

Today I'm treating myself. A long walk (to work off the crepes and the lasagna & bread & pain au chocolat I had in NYC last night), some reading (Afternoon Delight is tops on my list), and second most pleasant - some writing time! Most pleasant? Just take a guess - that comes later tonight.

Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day for those that celebrate it!

Eliciting Eros

Fire from ice.

Wanting to turn someone on - get them hot and bothered - that's what we want to do when we write erotica - isn't it? My little dictionary widget gives this definition of erotica: literature or art intended to arouse sexual desire. 

But what arouses one person doesn't necessarily do diddly-squat for another. Okay - today it's windy out. Wind Advisory level windy. The bare branches are tossing around and the trees are straining against each other. The sound of wind turns me on. Don't ask why, I don't understand it. But it does. If I had the time today I'd write myself a wind story. (Note to self: write some wind-based erotica.) I understand why the weather forecasters just love to be outside in a hurricane - they are getting off on it - no doubt about it. Why didn't I go into meteorology? We don't have TV - I miss good weather porn.

Last night I hosted an erotic poetry evening. In my opinion it fell flat. Maybe it was the audience, maybe it was the venue, maybe it's the economic climate. Being worried about your livelihood is one hell of an anaphrodisiac. Of course nobody (well, with one exception) there knows about this new erotica thing I've got going on. So it was a weird evening for me. I don't like hiding what is an important part of who I am. Did it for most of my life. Thank Eros I've gotten past that for the most part. But not completely. For instance - I'm a little nervous mentioning what I did last night. Notice I didn't link to it. Hahaha.

So I'm finding it interesting what I'm drawn to write. Longer stuff. I've been doing Alison's contests without missing one since I started in December. I view them as writing prompts. But I have trouble with the 250 word limit - hahaha - I regularly have to edit edit edit (I'm a bit anal about not going over the word limit). As a result I've realized that most of what I write in the future will be longer. I like the build-up, the exposition, the foreplay. And that's hard to get with a quickie. Which is so different from my poetry - which tends to be short and concise - for the most part. 

Being so new at this, I'm fascinated with the whole process of writing something designed to elicit eros while at the same time being a pleasure to read just because. I still keep thinking about the story that EllaRegina wrote that I enjoyed so much that I was inspired to write my first flasher contest entry. 

So, I'm wondering - what AM I wondering? - Haha, was just interrupted by my husband asking me if I was having internet issues because he was (he works from home too) - and my train of thought was derailed. 

Okay, here's my question: What inspires you to write a piece of erotica vs. something else? Is it a conscious decision or does it just happen? 

This is my way of easing into something some of us newbie erotica writers are thinking of doing - sharing a discussion through our blogs about what all is involved in this erotic whateveryoucallit (I just tried to google for fetish names to find the one that would be appropriate but there are well more than 9 million entries - don't have the time - hahahahaha). 

I've got an admission to make. I've never read a book-length erotic novel before. Have pretty much stuck to short stories. And so I'm hoping to find the time soon to read some - especially seeing as how a number of recently "met" erotica writers have novels out or coming out (I'm not going to link to them all because I'm sure I'd miss somebody and then I'd feel like shit,  hahaha). 

Well, I'd better finish this up since I still have way too much to do today. But at least I got a chance to write this! Hope it didn't jump around too much. I'm not very focused today.

To tell or not to tell...

Been pondering whether to tell a good friend of mine about my recent immersion into erotica. I saw something today on another blog - a name - and I went holy shit! and I've decided NOT to tell her. It was one of those creepy omen type things. Wish I could say more, haha, because you'd all get a kick out of it, but I can't. 

So, that's been decided for me. Funny how life works.

What's Real?

I just love that delete key. This morning I'd started a post and then wandered off in a completely different direction than I had planned. After a shower, washing the spider webs from my brain, I'm ready.

The picture shows blue cones used to mark the corners on a movie set, they don't remove them while they're filming, they'll just disappear. Like magic!  

When I first started keeping this blog back in December, I honestly didn't think anybody would be reading it, except maybe my husband when I bugged him enough. But people are, and since I'm a writer, well, hell, I'm gonna write here. 

What to write though? I don't intend on this being a diary of all the little tidbits of my life (how boring would that be? hahaha). But the whole thing about writing, and writing erotica specifically, and "is  it real?" - well, that interests me. And of course I'm going to write about what interests me.

So this is getting created as I go. No plan. No to do list. One thing I had intended to do was muse on what it's like to be new at this erotica writing stuff, and blogging stuff. (I'm not feeling very eloquent this morning). One thing I DO like is the conversations that take place in the comments (the progressive dinner was great for that). 

Shanna Germain has an interesting post about writers - they're not necessarily what they write. (Duh!) It got my interest because I've been pondering the whole public/private blurred line that exists in the lives of those who write. 

Blogging is writing. For me it's a way to get my brain going. I've gotten some great ideas as I was typing away here (or reading elsewhere). But then there's the frustration of wanting to just type type type but having to be somewhere else (job, kids, family, all the myriad obligations we have in our "real" life). Unless you're a hermit and hole up in a cave somewhere, there's constant little knocks at the door, begging for our attention.

This week is gonna be crazy for me - so much to do - and all I want to do is sit and write. Write write and blog write. One thing I'm planning on doing when I get the time is to try and get a regular discussion going for newbie/virgin erotic writer/bloggers. A couple of other folks I've met during the progressive dinner are interested. I think the conversation that goes on in comments is a good portion of what makes some blogs interesting (I don't like the stupid rudeness that seems to prevail in some places) and I know I want mine to be interesting. 

And of course, I'm out of time. Maybe I'll write more later.

Break out the bubbly!

I got my first acceptance!

What was going to be a rant from me today on the topic of corporate BDSM (at my hubby's job - they're yanking his chain - don't get me started - nobody is having fun and there is no safe word) has instead morphed into a happy dance. 

My story Wet as Spring will be included in Coming Together: Al Fresco (there's the pre-order page) and I'm so excited that I can't contain myself. 

I wish I knew how to get the cover picture on here, but since I'm new at this - though I guess

no longer Extra Virgin - I'll just have to stick with links. 

                                                             Hey! I did it! 

It's coming out on Earth Day and I'm so excited (did I already say that?) to have my first published story be in one of Alessia Brio's Coming Together Anthologies. 

I could blabber on for ages, but I have to go help get a broken-down truck home. Actually, to tell the truth, I didn't get champagne, but this. Trader Joe's had it - they'd just put it on the shelf 2 hours before I was in there today. 

Oh shit! I have to write a bio!

It's been lovely

Thank You - to Kirsten Monroe and Donna George Storey for arranging this amazing week-plus of dinner, discussion, and distraction. Thanks to all the hosts & hostesses - Craig Sorensen, Shanna Germain, Jeremy Edwards & Helia Brookes, Neve Black, Kirsten, Donna, Emerald, Sommer Marsden, and Nikki Magennis. It's been delightful and I didn't even gain an ounce!

I'd also like to thank Alison Tyler - whose wonderful contests pulled me in and where I found the links to your sites. 

Honestly, you were all so welcoming of everyone, it made me feel at ease - and I am Miss Been lurking in the shadows reading for years and wishing I could just get up the guts to try this. 

I'd write more now - I'm overflowing with appreciation - but it's late here and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. 

Kilts & castles & truffles & kilts!

Today 

we 

travel

for

truffles 

to the blog of Nikki Magennis. Served by a roaring fire in the hall at Comeagain castle. Oh, yes, and the gentlemen  are wearing kilts! 

There's poetry, coffee, Balvenie, cherry truffles ... oh, and yes, men in kilts! Did I mention that?

What a lovely finish for the progressive blog feast - and what a feast it's been. Thank you Donna George Storey and Kirsten Monroe for planning this.

Oh, and since Sommer Marsden had lovely Liam on her list yesterday - looky what I found!

Notice my clever placement of text below Liam's kilt - anyone want to snuffle for truffles?

That's not my photo, damn it! Oh well. 

Sweet Fantasies

Salty and sweet, crunchy and smooth.

Life is short, eat dessert first!  

Well, over at Sommer Marsden's , she's serving us a trio of desserts. Along with some lovely Sauternes to loosen our tongues and get us to reveal who is on our fantasy fuck list. We all have lists, right?

How am I supposed to concentrate now?!  Good thing today is a writing day.  ;-)

Yes, that picture above is part of my extensive cake porn collection - I like to take pictures of my cakes to gaze at long after the last spot of icing has been licked off fingers.

When Woodchucks Fuck - a haiku

In honor of all those groundhogs yanked ceremoniously from their winter nap by silly humans. Did you hear one bit Mayor Bloomberg?

When Woodchucks Fuck

early April day

groundhogs are sure acting strange

son says to father

that's a couple of years old - yeah, we have groundhogs - the babies are sure cute - the grownups are sure a pain in the ass (I'm a gardener).

and yeah, I decided to go with a larger type size. 

Salad Days

After a brief pause to let our bodies digest the wonderful erotic blog feast of the past week, we travel to Emerald's city, for the salad tossing extravaganza (sorry, couldn't resist - it's late). Though I have no idea what will be in her salad, I searched my files and found a picture taken in my garden in warmer times - it will be warmer in a few months, right?

Will post picture in the morning - think I hit blogger gridlock post super bowl