Beginner's Ball #4 - Sharing the dance

Randy Lagana's "Hold Up"

So now that you've written some zesty little story (or two or three or forty), what to do? Tuck it into a drawer? Or do you harbor some long-simmering desire to share it with more than just your lover? Maybe even get it published?

Years ago, when I read Susie Bright's How To Write A Dirty Story, and got to the chapter "A Devil's Argument Against Publishing" - well, I was taken aback (I've always wanted to use that phrase). Yes, the world of publishing is a cruel and heartless world full of ogres. And if you write something full of passion and just keep it to yourself, or maybe just share with one other special person and never ever never think of publishing it, you're the better person for it. But. What if the writer of some of my favorite works (be they poems, novels, or smutty stories) had decided to keep it to themselves? If Shakespeare or Whitman or Susie Bright for that matter had opted to not share? I personally thought that would be dreadful. Also, on some level I felt it as a slap for wanting to maybe have someone else - a stranger no less - read some of my deepest, darkest fantasies. That was my own guilt and shame slapping. Thank pron I'm over that! Sorta. Kinda. Maybe.

But basically, I'm a fairly shy person. I was the classic wallflower in high school. Never raised my hand. Got sick to my stomach before having to give an oral report. I've joked about being invisible at times. Yet, I'm a writer. And I like to have other people read what I write. Now I get up and read - sometimes even perform - in front of people. But that's poetry. I've been doing that long enough that I don't stress too much. This erotica stuff is new. I like doing this blog - which is read by friends and strangers alike. But when it comes to sharing my erotica/porn/smut/whatever, I find that I seem to have two left feet (or is it two right feet?) when it comes to sharing the dance that is my writing.  

Sharing as in ... sharing with a spouse/lover, sharing with a close friend or another writer or sending it out into the world to be considered for publication. But rather than ramble on about what I think, I figured we'd get a discussion going in comments about this subject. 

So, here's some questions:

Do you share your writing with your spouse/lover? Some? All? When? Why or why not? What's been their reaction? If you have worries, have they been realized or are you just stressing/obsessing for no reason?

Do you have any close friends (in as I've heard it called, the meat world) that you share your work with? What about other writers? Do you have a writing group that you've brought some of your erotica to? 

Do you have a plan for submitting your work? (I'm assuming you're going to.) Or is it haphazard? How do you decide where to send something? Are you picky or don't you care? Do you stress about it? (Not going to get into the acceptance/rejection thing here.) 

And for those of you who've been published, has that changed any of the above for you?

Okay, is that enough? Hahaha. Probably too much. Now I'm going to go do the dishes and come back and answer my own questions.

Inspired

Yesterday was an inspiring day in blogland. If you want to read all about it, go to Sommer's blog - she's done a review. One thing that got us all going was P.S. Haven's incredible erotic art. And one of his pieces, Expectations, got to me enough that I ended up writing a short poem, an ekphrastic/found poem. I just used images and some words/phrases of his text and rearranged until it started touching on what it is about his piece that draws me in to the extent it does.

Anyhow, here's the piece by P.S. Haven - (his etsy page linked here) and then the poem. I used his watermarked image on purpose. 

Expectations

hands

grip

arms

sheets

words

what if?

not real

never tell

never see

swear

ready

I'm not afraid

Oh, and later today I'll have a new installment of Beginner's Ball - so check back later!

Thinking Good Thoughts

You know those visualization exercises? Go to your special place. I tend to hate those. Yoga classes always seemed to end with them. I used to think I don't have a special place. Now I do, but the problem is I want to be there for real, not in my mind.

I want to be here, this place in the picture. The nice thing is, I've been there and I will be there. 

Anyhow, I've been quiet and in that feeling sorry for myself place. Which is not good. Not much gets done there. 

But yesterday and today some things happened that made me feel better. Like, Sommer asks "tell me something good." And P.S. Haven invites us to come up to his gallery and view his art (Haven, it is definitely art!). Marina lets us listen in over at Donna's. And Alison has buttons and won't lie.

And the weather has cooled to more seasonable temps (though I did enjoy the heat for two days). And they found the problem on my car and I've got my fingers crossed that it'll be fixed soon. That bare spot in the garage has really gotten me down. 

So, I'm going to try to think positive the rest of the day and get stuff done. 

And not in a good way

Today sucks. Just got home from having my car towed - it died on me - first time in the 4+ years I've had it. There's other stuff too, but this was the topper. So, since I can't think of anything happy to say, I'll just wallow in self-pity for awhile.

[Deleted] Euphemisms

Okay, I'm getting antsy to get out and take a walk before it gets too damn hot, so here are two Alison Tyler flasher entries in one post. One was to use one of the euphemisms I'd listed when it was my turn on the Blow Hard Tour 2009. When AT posted the contest, she had this backgammon thing going and I couldn't get that out of my head. Hence the title of my first flasher here.

The other is a weird little number I did for the [Deleted] contest. There were so many wonderful entries by the time I got around to posting that I just went minimalist on everyone. It got three votes anyway!

Back Gammin’

Yeah, it was cold last night. When you crawled into bed, you were shivering. Disappointing meeting. Flight delayed. Long drive home. Heater not working in your car. But I was warm and waiting for you.

When I touched your skin, the chill and my craving combined to tighten my nipples. I covered your body with mine, an attempt to let some of my heat soak into your tiredness. You accepted my kisses as they traversed your landscape, let me know they were welcome.

I followed the dark trail of hairs from your navel to your hardening cock. Laid my head on your thigh, just breathing in your scents. The metallic tang of nervous sweat. The ripe aroma of jetting fatigue. The fragrance of desire, despite your cold weariness.

Your hand rested on my shoulder, then stroked the back of my neck. Encouragement. I tugged gently in the curly hairs, stroked light traces up and down with fingertips, pressed lightly at the slit, felt your wetness. My hand gently cradled your cock and brought it to my lips. I’d missed you.

*****

You Will Be [Deleted]

Slowly.
Intensely.

You'll like being [deleted].

Exquisitely.
Passionately.

It's good to be [deleted].

Softly.
Roughly.

Do you want to be [deleted]?

In the bed I made

When Alison Tyler asked for bed photos, I knew which one I had to send. It was a couple years old, but still. What I didn't know was that she would use it to introduce a new contest. One in which we were to choose one of the bed photos that various folks had sent her and write a story involving it. I didn't choose mine of course, I chose this one. Here's my dive beneath the covers.

Moved by Art

They hoped something would rub off on them. Been checking them all out. They wanted to fuck in one of the writers’ beds. You know how it can be with people of their ilk. Writers. They can be so weird.

They were both very horny. All those sheets, all those erotic thoughts soaked into the thread counts.

“Back to the gallery” came the whisper.

They entered the space. In the center was a bed, as if onstage. Their bare footsteps echoed against the white walls.

“You sure you want to do this? I don’t know what time the gallery opens.”

“Nobody will ever know. It’s already messed up. Besides, the thought of fucking with art kinda turns me on.”

“Wear the slippers for me?”

“Whoa, that’s kinda kinky.”

Soon they were tangling in the sheets. Tied their hands together with the pantyhose they found – one leg for each set of hands. That made it hard to move, but that just made them hotter. No fingers into orifices, it was just mad grinding going on. At one point they almost fell off the bed.

“Oh baby that feels good don’t stop oh God I think I’m gonna come!”

Just then the lights flicked on. They froze, their legs jutting from under the sheets.

“Would you look at that? Seems every night the artist has to come in here and make changes to the piece.”

“Wow, those dolls do look real don’t they?”

And now for a rush of words

I've been negligent in posting the flashers I've written for Alison Tyler's contests - partly because I have to use a different browser than the one I regularly use in order to paste into posts. So, I just don't bother and then weeks go by. I can be lazy at times. ;-)

So here's one, I can't even remember what it was called, but the point of it was to write from a different point of view - if female write from male, etc. and it was still in the theme of touching yourself. And I'm too lazy to go back searcing through AT's blog to find what it was called. So here it is.

Watching Her Leglock the Pillow

She said it’s not pretty. I said I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was watch her get off. She said she wasn’t sure she’d be able to with me there. Once she’d described how she masturbated. It sounded so deliciously primitive. Ever since, I’d been wanting to watch her. Kept asking her. Pleading really. So she finally gave in, said she’d try.

One night we were in bed reading, typical husband and wife stuff. She had one of her erotica collections. Me, a news magazine. Eventually I noticed her squirming. Glanced sideways at her. Saw her face, intent, glass of merlot held close to her lips. She must be reading a good part I thought. Wondered what was turning her on. She took a sip of wine, turned the page, moved her ass again. I heard an indrawn breath, saw her close the book.

She glanced at me. Without exchanging words we knew. I imagined her pussy wet. Left my bedside lamp on. At first she kept the cover pulled up, but I could see her hand move between her legs. Her eyes closed, her breathing became heavier. She flipped onto her stomach, grabbed a pillow, placed it folded between her legs. I carefully pulled the sheet back. With her face buried in the mattress, she frantically humped the pillow, making low, animalistic noises. Suddenly she grunted, held still, trembled as she came. That was fast.

And I was hard.

After April Showers

The sun is warm today and this weekend we're supposed to get our first taste of real heat. But the other day it was cold and rainy. Must be Spring. 

I'm about to head outside (too bad not into the picture above), but I wanted to post an excerpt from my story that appears in the just-released Coming Together: Al Fresco, which you can purchase here.

From Wet As Spring by Robin Elizabeth

She stepped gently, pushing aside a fern that was as tall as her waist. She came to a shaded bower formed by the entangled branches of a myrtle and and old tanoak. In the shelter beneath the branches, clover clustered in the dapples of sun. She imagined deer bedding down here. She could hear the gushing of the stream, swollen with last week's rain. She reached up and plucked a leaf from the myrtle and crushed it between her fingers to release the sharp, pungent scent. She wished her husband was with her. At the thought, a flush spread over her whole body. I'll bring him here she thought.

...

She felt his hand moving slowly down across her stomach, down her thigh to the hem of her dress, then moving beneath the cloth, back up her leg. Her breath came faster and her muscles tightened in anticipation. But his hand steered wide and came up onto her belly. She quivered. He knew what this did to her, this teasing.

He unbuttoned the front of her dress. The cotton fabric fell open, and she could feel the sun, filtered by the leaves, on her bare skin.

Weird Shit Thursday

Okay, I'm in a weird mood. Here's a bunch of stuff that I've been collecting, in no particular order. 

We love these big crispy rounds - but the only place around here to get them is IKEA and I haven't been down there recently. They have a hole in the middle - because they were meant to hang on a peg in the kitchen. So when I saw this video .... 

Aren't they cute? Doesn't matter that you can't understand a word said.

Enough mindless entertainment, now on to some knowledge-making

.

We have a another fascinating installment of The World's Most Terrifying Penises - squid dick anyone?

How about some frog orgies?

And then some euphemisms for orgy: American trombone, birthday party, fuckathon (hey Sommer, it's a portmanteau!), gang shag, Mazola party, picnic, round robin (snicker snicker), sewing circle, team cream, etc.

Got any weird shit to share?

Celebrate Earth Day Al Fresco!

Today's the day! Coming Together: Al Fresco is available, and my first (!!!) longer published story "Wet As Spring" is in it! (I know, I'm using lots of !!!!!! - but I'm excited!)

The latest in Alessia Brio's charity anthology series, Coming Together: Al Fresco features stories in which the action takes place without a bed... or a bedroom. All proceeds benefit Conservation International. GREEN is the new black!

I'll have a little excerpt on another day, plus I'm planning on giving away an ecopy (not sure that's a word, but what the hell)  - but I gotta figure all that out and just don't have the time this morning. 

Pizza and Porn

Today I attended a lunchtime college panel debate on "Does Porn Make Sexism Sexy?"  Of course the question was never answered. They served pizza (umm, okay, but not all that great), and showed a clip from the documentary The Price Of Pleasure: Pornography, Sexuality & Relationships. Then a five-student (and one professor) panel had their say, followed by discussions at the individual tables.

At the risk of sounding agist, what struck me most was ... they're all so young! Not as in their age (though most of the room were probably younger than my oldest child), but that their viewpoints were so ... young. I remember being that age. I was an Adult! Though I never thought I knew it all (I still don't) - life does tend to furnish perspective. And that lack of perspective came through loud and clear to me (I'm hoping cerulean will chime in with her reactions in the comments - she took better notes than I did). 

When cerulean had emailed me and asked if I was interested in the event, my first thought was - how cool that I now have someone to go to stuff like this with. We both agreed that though it was something we both would be interested in, we wouldn't  likely go to alone. Besides, it's fun to have someone to discuss it with afterwards. We were both interested in hearing what young people had to say.

Of course, the main focus was visual pornography, even though my dictionary widget (that I don't necessarily agree with) gives the definition of pornography as "printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings." So written "erotica" wasn't really touched on at all. Besides, there was only an hour or so - time only for the chips and dip of a proper examination of the subject. 

Each student gave (or read from) their prepared position. There were comparisons of porn to the economy (good vs. bad), the typical "porn oppresses women" and "legally protected speech" statements. There was simplistic (imho) notions that the images of "deviant acts" were themselves damaging. That if a child (of say 13 or 14) sees a pornographic image it will "wipe away their innocence." The implication being that this is a terrible thing.  

There was a lot of talk about pornography being male dominated, "all about the guy's pleasure," and an almost dismissive attitude that any woman would even be interested in, much less like to look at porn. There was also talk about how porn has changed the dating world (negative impact of course) - since porn is only for the "male gaze." That porn makes guys think that pubic hair is something to be rid of and that "taboos" like bisexuality (female, not male, oh no, can't have that) and anal sex are something guys want, not necessarily what the girls they're dating want. Guess I'm getting old. I'm fucking glad I don't have to date - it doesn't seem that anything has gotten any clearer to the participants since I was in my early twenties, internet porn or no.

I'd be interested in watching this documentary, though my sense is that it is full of the porn is degrading to women and bad for everyone involved (whether they consent or not) attitude. If anyone reading this has seen it, I sure hope you'll post a comment. My opinion on the whole subject is extremely complicated and I sure don't have the time to get into it right now. Though I know I'll keep coming back to this over and over again, don't worry. ;-)  The subject of sex fascinates me. Oh, when I was "researching" this blog post I came across one that Greta Christina posted over a year ago that I liked. I agree with her, so rather than paraphrasing - just go read it. 

So, at my ripe age I've decided to own up to my forever attraction to smut and smutty things. And I find it kind of ironic that in doing so (considering my history), I've become (as I only half-jokingly say to my husband) empowered by porn. 

Porn/erotica/smut/whatever-you-want-to-call-it has been around forever. The internet. Cable, DVDs, VHS, Betamax (remember?). Film. Photography. The printed word. Painting and drawing and sculpture. I'm sure that somewhere somebody was drawing dirty pictures on a cave wall. So what else is new?

This is my 100th post!

After this morning's false alarm, I was determined to make my 100th post today. When my kids were in elementary school they celebrated "100 day" by bringing in things like 100 cheerios or 100 raisins or 100 jelly beans. So, in honor of my 100th post, for your viewing pleasure...

(it's worth the time to watch it)

false alarm

I'd thought this would be my 100th post. There was a post I didn't post - so my next post will be my 100th post.

here's what I wrote - I'm gonna leave it up. Shit, and I don't even have the excuse that Sommer has.

I didn't realize that until I went to type this. And all I'm doing is trying to play catch-up to getting my Trollop With A Laptop flasher contest entries caught up. All I can say is I'm having fun with this blog and am just tickled that folks are reading it and enjoying it. Even when it's a bit on the heavy duty side. I'm not at all organized with it. I've got all sorts of ideas for things I want to do with it. ;-)  

I do know that I want to get a new Beginner's Ball up - maybe tomorrow if I can get my shit together later to write it. And then this Wednesday - Earth Day - Coming Together: Al Fresco will be available - and my first long story, "Wet As Spring" will be published!!! I remember when I first announced it, April seemed so far away. Now it's here. So I gotta figure out something to do for that. And I need to get my ass in gear and submit more. It's almost as if I was waiting for it to come out to make sure this is all real. Okay, so it's still early on Sunday morning and I'm probably not making much sense.

And guess what? I really don't have time to post the story right now - I'll have to do that later. Wow - a hundred posts. I'm a blabbermouth aren't I?

Getcha Motor Runnin

Okay, P.S. Haven's got a car thing goin, and yesterday I'd planned on doing this post for today - BEFORE he posted today. So to steal a line from him - that's awesome on so many levels - here is one of my all-time-favorite driving songs. MTST!

I was trying to find a picture online of the first car I drove (easier than digging through old photos and scanning) - but had no luck. If memory serves me correctly, it was a 1970 Mustang Grande Coupe, pumpkin orange with one of those black vinyl fake half roof thingies (technical term). It wasn't mine - it was mom's (an automatic) and it was the car I learned to drive in and was lucky enough to get to drive to school my last year of high school. It actually had an AM/FM radio and I listened to (and stuck a bumper sticker on - wish I still had it) this radio station...

Okay - so fast forward to present day - here's a piece I wrote a few years ago, then recently revised - from my car's point of view.

Auto Erotic

I make her pulse race. She gets wet when she lays eyes on me across a crowded parking lot. Thinks I have cute eyes, but doesn’t mind if I wink at others of my kind. She knows I’m hers. In truth, I know she revels in the longing, lustful glances I get. Loves to overhear comments people make when they don’t realize she’s with me. Yes, I know she’s possessive, doesn’t like to share. I like it that way though.

She bathes me lovingly, won’t allow other hands to do this intimate job. Takes warm soapy water, gently washes off the grime that comes from long days on the road. Then she rinses me in clear water, cool as it runs down my sides. Takes a towel to me, tracing my curves with such attention, I can’t help but shine. She’ll lift my bonnet, wipe my plugs and play with my dipstick. It tickles when she pulls stray leaves out of my grill. Sometimes she gets down and dirty, rubbing between my spokes to clean off brake dust. Sometimes she reaches up into my wheel wells, getting at places others can’t see. And I love it when she polishes my chrome tailpipe. Inside and out.

She frets over small blemishes, evidence of an active life. But they are just on the surface. Underneath, I am healthy and virile. But oh … when she comes inside, sinks into my hide, turns me on, gets me hot. When she takes off the brakes, goes all out. Well, that is when I truly come alive. Sometimes she is gentle with me, coaxing me with subtleness. Letting me take my time. Sometimes she pushes me to go fast, pull a few Gs around some tight corner, then presses to go even faster. When I do eventually slow down, as I have to sometimes, I find myself burbling my regret at having to ease up. But I always stop when she tells me to.

Yeah, that's mine...

quite a story too 

Unintended Consequences - Waiting - Part 2

Randy Lagana's I'm Waiting

Why do we wait? What are we waiting for? I know this is a theme I keep returning to. Yesterday in a comment on my previous post, JM Stone said "I've 'lurked' through my whole life." And I knew just what she meant.

There was always a side of myself that was never shown to anyone. Not family, not friends, not lovers - though they might have gotten a peek. Over time though, the wall's been crumbling. And last year, with the unwitting help of people close to me and not so close, I took up a sledgehammer and started pounding away. Ended up here.

So what was I waiting for? I turned 50 last year. For years and years I always thought if I made it to 50, I'd be okay. Not sure why I had that thought. But I remember having it even when I was in my teens, twenties and later. So now I'm here and 50 is a memory - of a very interesting year. Unbelievably happy in some ways and heartbreaking in others. Hmm. Isn't that called life?

Friends. They've always been important to me. Even during the many years when they were few and far between. I sort of shut myself away when I was a teenager. In retrospect I think that was a form of self-preservation. Knowing where my thoughts were at then, I probably could have gotten in a hell of a lot of trouble. But I came home every day after school and studied. I listened to lots of music and read and spent time just thinking. Daydreaming. And it's funny, none of the few friends I had in high school have ever turned up on Classmates. And though I keep having people tell me I should join Facebook - I'm not going to (I'm saving that rant for some other time) - I prefer to move forward with my life. 

Later on in college I finally started making some friends. Still have one of them. *Waves* After college I met my husband. And for some reason, getting married and having a "home" gave me the courage to start venturing out a bit more - though I did tend to hightail it back at the slightest bit of weather. Having kids though - that pushed me out into the world. I made friends so that my kids would have friends. I did things I never would have done before because I wanted to do them for my kids.

Now my kids are pretty much all grown. My oldest is on her own (this year was the first we couldn't claim her as a dependent on our taxes - ouch!). Her sister is an adult trying to figure out what direction she wants to take. Our son is going to be turning sixteen this summer, and I know from past experience that with or without that driver's license, that age is a real turning point. It comes down to this - they don't need me in the way they did when they were younger. So? What to do?

Well, I've been doing it for years already. I started writing again. First poetry. I've made a lot of wonderful friends through that. Unfortunately lost some too. Then last year I started getting back into the erotica that I'd tried out a few times before. But I never had the guts to really step out there. It was damn scary. But I did. So far I haven't had any "bad" reactions to what I'm doing - though I've been careful and slow about telling folks.

And it's funny, this feels like home. If you're here, you might understand. I'm being "truer" to myself than I've ever been before. That part of me, that I now recognize in the writing and blog posts of others, isn't something to be afraid to let out. I've made some new friends in the past few months that feel like kindred spirits and it is just so wonderful.

As for life, well, we'll just go on living it. If you had of told me a year ago that I'd be where I am today - I would have laughed in your face. So, what are the unintended consequences of waiting? Sometimes by waiting you can get right to where you need to be.

Here's a poem that's about five years old. I thought I had a poem with "waiting" in the title and searched. Sure enough (when you have close to five hundred poems it's easy to forget what you have). And since it just seemed perfect for where I am today...  though - hehe - I may revise it a little, we'll see.

Waiting To Be Complete

It rains, and she knows
there will be more weeds to pull.
They grow faster than the pile of dishes
in the sink, the laundry spilling over the basket.
Books linger on the floor
by her bed, unread and needing
to be returned to the library.
Fabric, folded and stacked,
remains uncut, summer
skirts will have to wait
until fall to wrap around her.
Paint cans sit patiently on the
kitchen floor unopened.
Poems with marks and scribbles are
scattered everywhere, waiting.

Unintended Consequences - Thinking - Part 1

Randy Lagana's "Thinking"

It's been an interesting day. First the Amazon "glitch." Then more worrisome "news" at my husband's place of employment. Then I read an essay that got to me and made me think. And when I get to thinking, well, I tend to go deep.

Lot of emotions filtering through me today. The whole "glitch" brought back memories of times in the past when my righteous indignation won out over my innate tendency to hide. Or when it didn't. When I sat back and cowered - afraid that if I spoke up - that harsh beam would turn my way. There are times when I've written a letter that I'd like to think helped make a difference. I do believe that sometimes it can take just one vote.

But also, all too often I've been silent. Out of fear. Fear of what might happen if. Fear of being wrong. Fear of looking stupid. Raise my hand in class? No way. Speak up when I disagree? Nope. Because I know I would stumble over my own words and fall flat on my face. I was sure of it. And that kept me silent for a very long time. 

So, watching the whole Amazon sales rank fiasco, I felt that conflict - speak up or keep quiet for fear of looking/sounding like a fool. My gut feeling is that the whole thing is an unintended consequence of some other action, either intentional or otherwise. And it spread like wildfire. I'll be very interested in how this pans out. I know that it affected me even though it didn't effect the one book on Amazon I have some writing in. Last month I went to post reviews for both Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories and Best Sex Writing 2009. I had trouble finding both of them. It was frustrating and made me feel stupid. And scared. I didn't like that. So I thought about it.

Then later I read an essay that Donna George Storey wrote, A Pill To Change Your Life, about her mother's death from the diabetes drug Rezulin. I had to read it in two sittings because it was hard to read. All sorts of emotions welled up in me. It hit home because I have diabetes. When I was first diagnosed the other year, it was shortly before a good friend, the husband of a poetry colleague, passed away from pancreatic cancer. He had diabetes and when I went to see him just days before he died, I told him and he warned me to pick my doctor(s) carefully. He'd been on meds for years. I was on them for three months but then opted to work with just diet and exercise under the care of a naturopath. I lost a lot of weight and my health now is better than it's been in many years. 

But that got me thinking about the deaths of friends again. And friends in general. 

Part 2 tomorrow (actually on Wed. I just don't feel like writing right now.)

Kristina Lloyd gets a head shot

Back to the important stuff!

Today is the encore, encore day of the Blow Hard Tour 2009 - and we finish up with Kristina Lloyd giving thanks for giving head. You must go, because she has the most wondrous of head shots! She also has an excerpt that will help rid your mind of any problems of amazonian proportions. ;-) And if that's not enough for you, head over to Erotica Cover Watch.

And want to know who won the wondrous prize package? Head over to Smut Girl and find out. 

Whatever are we going to do with ourselves now???   ;-)

"a glitch in our systems"

Update: Powell's Books

Update: Describe the Ruckus

Update: #Amazonfail and the politics of anti-corporate cyberactivism 

Update: Very interesting post here. Seems it's all about the MetaData.

Well, I kind of expected to get up this morning (late - yay! cause my son has spring vacation this week) to find the blog world abuzz with Amazon's screw-up of amazonian proportions. Ranks, lists, I never paid them much attention before. But even so, they've had an effect. Yup. I'd sent them an email yesterday - from the point of view of someone who had searched for a book and had a hell of a time finding it. This actually happened to me several times. And not just in the last day. And not just once.

Back in March I was searching for Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories (links to Powell's Books) in order to write a review of it. Even typing in the full name with author of the book didn't get me to it. The first time it happened I had this brief flash of "what if they've removed it from 'their shelves' so-to-speak?" Naaaa. Then I thought I was just being stupid, obviously doing something wrong. 

Finally I went over to Rachel Kramer Bussel's site and clicked on her book link and that took me to the page. I typed in my review and after posting it, felt good. It wasn't my first review and I knew that sometimes it took time to get up. But then more than 48 hours later it still hadn't shown up. I sent them an email and suddenly my review showed up along with a response to my email.

Like I said, this happened several times. And was frustrating. So that's how I framed my email to Amazon - from the point of view of a "customer." Which I have been and won't be unless this is resolved to everyone's satisfaction. This was the response I got:

Hello,

Thanks for contacting us. We recently discovered a glitch in our systems and it's being fixed.

Thanks again for contacting us. We hope to see you again soon.

then all their click if helpful links and wait, wait, this is the best -

their sign-off - 

"We're Building Earth's Most Customer-Centric Company"
um, yeah, right. And if you believe that...

It's going to be interesting to see how this pans out. What's funny is that on Saturday I posted two reviews and they both showed up almost instantaneously. It's interesting, they rank reviewers too. 

We're still a blowin'

Yay! It's not over yet! Encore! Encore! Already suffering from withdrawal??? The next two days, get yourself over to Smut Girl's place - she has a surprise guest or two* in store for us.  And on Monday, Sommer gives away this prize - and let me tell you, it doesn't suck. ;-)

*Sunday, it's P.S. Haven making a guest appearance at Sommer's blog with a little tidbit for us ... Fuel injection is nice...

In the meantime - I found this while doing "research" on the web and though it didn't fit in with my stop on the magical blow job bus tour, I couldn't pass up posting it. I think I have a new crush. ;-)

Neve Black is good to the last drop

The Blow Hard Tour 2009 is nearing its end. Today, stop by Neve Black's to get a few last licks in. Leave a comment and you'll be in the running for a stunning prize package. And that's not all. Sommer has a surprise or two in store for us, with secret special guests the next two days. It's been so much fun we just can't stop. So, come on down.

Isabel Kerr blows us away

Today we're on an ancient volcanic Mediterranean island with Isabel Kerr - the next stop on the magical bus (because somehow we got to Italy) of the Blow Hard Tour 2009. Isabel has a lovely piece of prose for us about ... guess what?! Not her lover's face, that's for sure. So drop in and leave a comment. As Isabel says, there is "filthy lucre" to be won by some lucky commenter during this tour.

Oh, and somehow I screwed up my submission last night (see previous post) - so I had to resend it. Ack! 

Full Moon Bravery or Foolishness?

Something grabbed me today and hauled me off into that back alley and forced me to write. And not write pretty. It wasn't until much later in the day that I realized that it's the full moon. The Full Pink Moon, as KM wrote about a couple of weeks ago.

This past weekend, Helia Brookes, in her Beginner's Ball #3 blog post, spoke about using fantasies as wellsprings for stories. Today, I did that. And it's kind of scary. Because not only did I write it, I've already sent it out as a submission. Less than twenty minutes ago.

Whew! This morning when I got up, that was not in the plans. 

So, we'll see what happens. 

The image above (if I don't screw up the formatting) is another of Randy Lagana's works - a charcoal drawing - Only By Moonlight. I thought it was very fitting. 

Kristina Wright gives great PG13 ...

Today's stop on the Blow Hard Tour 2009 blow job extravaganza is at Kristina Wright's. She's in-the-pink with more euphemisms, a latin lesson movie clip, a story snip, and more. So head on over there, click her links, and leave a comment or three, you might win a prize from Sommer, or from Kristina!

Emerald wants you to come over

All over her face that is! Today is her turn to host the Blow Hard Tour 2009. She's got excerpts and a wonderful vid clip. So, join the fun and leave a comment - you might win a prize!

Peeking out

View from Alcatraz taken by Mr. Erobintica last summer.

Funny how little things make you think big thoughts. 

A couple of weeks ago I sent Donna George Storey a poem that I wrote, oh, about three years ago. I thought she might appreciate it in light of her series of The Mile High Club - themed blog posts. She did. Then she asked me if she could post it on her blog. Cool. But. This particular poem had been published last year in a print journal. Under my full name. And yeah, I have the rights to it and could have just said yeah, go ahead. But. I'm kind of a stickler for giving credit where credit is due. It's common knowledge/courtesy/practice to mention places where works have been previously published. 

So, I thought about it. And thought about it some more. I'm not ashamed of my poetry. I'm not ashamed of my erotica/smut/porn/whatever. This was something that came into play when I was coming up with a "pen name." So I'd set it up so that at some point in the future all the various writer personas could merge. But I didn't expect it to start happening so fast. 

Well, best laid plans and all that. I told Donna that yes, she could post my poem. It's kind of thrilling and scary at the same time. Like good sex. It's that loss of control. 

I know there's plenty of erotic authors out there who keep a tight lid on their private life. And I respect that. Don't think any the worse - I understand - and would never, ever think of "outing" someone. But for me, well, secrets are something I don't like living with. I did for most of my life and it was hell.

So, now I'm peeking out at the view. It looks ... real. I like that. But. Not quite ready to make a full break for it. So, I probably won't link the two places ... yet. And it's most likely I'll link from here to there first. I don't think any erotic folks will be shocked at my writing poetry. But, I know that some folks that know me through my poetry, or just know me, would be shocked by Erobintica. 

The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage."

                                                           ~Thucydides (c.460-400 BC)

Marina St. Clare wants to blow your horn!

After a long, hard week on the Blow Hard Tour 2009, today brings us to the blog of Marina St. Clare and she has a jizzy, oops, jazzy musical interlude for us, so to speak. So head over there to read and COMMENT - by gracing us with some words and thoughts you might win this lovely prize, behind door number....

HERE

EllaRegina Goes Down!

Get thee to a nunnery - NO -  wait - get thee to EllaRegina's post haste! She's offering a little head, a swallow. A  palate cleanser. She takes on two poles - no make that polls, hehe. She blows bubbles. She goes down. Videos galore. Oh, and that's not all. The Blow Hard Tour 2009 continues! So, what are you doing here still? GO!

Here's the full line-up, past, present, & future. (I'll add this later after I have breakfast - in the meantime go here.)