Sunday, February 26, 2006

Fish bites Penis--a gorilla testicle?

I need you to be honest, Bloggers.
Is this episode best kept as an out-take to showcase my sense of humor etc?
Or should it be retained in INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL at all costs?

This scene takes place on a deserted alien island, where the Earth-educated hero, Djetth, was marooned with Martia-Djulia, so they could mate. Martia-Djulia did not want to mate. Feya is there by accident. She used to be his favorite hooker. Then he had plastic surgery and a change of face and identity. The one giveaway is his unique penis tattoo.

Now, he has to find a tactful way to explain to everyone that all human males have designs on their penises.....

(Djinni is the girl he knew all his life, to whom he was once betrothed before Martia-Djulia's brother appropriated Djinni.)

If he happened to be exclusively sexually active with either Feya or Martia-Djulia, it wouldn’t be the thorny issue that it was.

An injury! That would be the way to go. For some mysterious reason, females seemed to find male injuries funny.

Djinni, at three, had rejoiced in calling his positor a ‘flopping bottom’ not that his Imperial Positor had ever flopped in her presence or in anyone else’s. She’d seen an actor’s penis on TV when she should have been fast asleep.

Was it absolutely necessary that Martia-Djulia see his ‘injury’ take place? What were the logistics of staging a penis accident?

Djetth cast his mind back thirty or so Earth years. Canderu! That was the way to go. Djinni had been fascinated and horrified by the phenomenon of a little Amazon river fish that was attracted by moving urine in the river water.

Apparently, this fish was prone to mistake a urinating penis for the gills of the much larger fish upon which it usually preyed. How could it make such a terrible error? Presumably it was a very short sighted fish.

Way to go!

If a male came splashing out of the water, clutching himself, alleging that a fish had bitten him there, Martia-Djulia and Feya might be maliciously amused. Surely, though, they would think it the most natural thing in the world for Djetth to examine himself.

“Something bit me! Slack damn.” Djetth swore volubly. Screaming was more than his Imperial Machismo permitted.

Feya, who was obviously feeling better, giggled.

“Shit, it hurts like the very blazes. I hope it wasn’t the sort of fish that goes up inside. I am sorry, Ladies. I'm going to have to inspect myself for damage.”

Djetth threw himself on to his back on the sand, tempingly close to where the girls sat, thrust down his trunk briefs, hooking them just below his bent and spread knees. Nothing was worth the actual loss of his trunk briefs and the lethal contents in the secret pocket.

“Whoa...that's horrible,” he groaned, knowing that females like to see anything horrible.

Moaning, he clutched himself with both hands, one behind the other, in a golf club grip, the little finger of his left hand hooked into the forefinger of his right. Peripherally, Djetth saw the girls exchange glances. They were interested.

“Fewmetty thing. Why the blue blazes would a bloody fish want to bite my positor?” he muttered eloquently.

The trouble with a bioluminescent tattoo is that the little organisms have a mind of their own. They only flash when life is gooooood.

Problem. How to wank without looking as if One is having a good time?

Friday, February 24, 2006

The "EW-w-w-wwwwwww" Factor

I have been writing merrily away this week on the new book--and sometime yesterday, I realized that at least two of the elements have a very high "ewwwwww" factor.

These are elements in the book that have a very high likelihood of making a large number of readers who read them go either EWwww or Ick! This is not the same as a squick factor, which tends to involve sex of some sort or another. The Eww Factor tends to involve disgusting things. Like blood-guts-and-gore. Or used condoms. Or spit. And I had two of these kinds of things in the book.

Both things work very well in the story, make logical sense and create story tension and even some conflict. But they are pretty Icky. And after thinking about it, discussing it with my daughter (who thought one of the things I didn't think rated the Eww Factor was icky), thinking some more, and sleeping on it, I took one of them out. The ickier thing. The other's still kind of gross, but it's not quite so eww-y, and I just can't make myself take both of them out because it messes up the story logic too much.

I still have 37 pages typed in, and about 10 or 12 more written. I've almost got that proposal done...

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Menstruation and Men with their hair on fire

Please understand this: I have never considered taping up a guy's mouth, and certainly would not do it for a love scene, and I've never fantasized about a lover combusting with desire.

This is a summary of alleged findings of a UCLA study.
Caveat: I am reporting something I saw on another loop. I have not checked for accuracy. I have not been to scropes.
It may be a joke.
It is not in very good taste.

A study carried out by someone in the Department of Psychiatry at UCLA
suggests that the kind of face a woman finds appealing may be different
depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.

For example, if she's ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features.
If she is pre-menstruating, or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with ..... tape over his mouth ... on fire.

I actually deleted the original posting, but went back to it because I realized something.
At certain times of the month, I can stand to write ... let's say ... beyond my normal level of comfort.

Happy the editor who innocently chances to ask me to spice up a love scene as soon as possible if her request comes through when I'm at the appropriate time of the month!

Now, I'm going back to my work in progress.

Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Fruit Between Friends

I filched this comment from the "main loop"--all due apologies--but thought, "What a GREAT thread!!" Where else but this blogg could we have at this topic, in the manner of our Spicy Group? Here it is:


My first thought: "what are we gonna call it? The mighty shaft of love? The lance of manhoood?" But that was just my first thoght. Here's my second....

Quoth--> I can see it now: "Her hands tangled in his belt, frantically working the zipped.It hissed down, a sound of relief, freedom, and anticipation.Or had that come from Jimmy?At last. At last. He sprang from the nest of curls, straight and proud as a glorious, glorious rubarb."

Hum, brings a whole new understanding of Purple Prose. har har har!


Thursday, February 16, 2006

Oral sex interruptus

You must tell me if my postings are too vulgar. I would not want to bring down the high intellectual tone of this blog.
However, if I'm starting a thread about my writing progress this week, it has been gratifying.

I am now writing the oral sex interruptus scene.
Originally, there was a dirty dance interrupted scene, where the hero is destroying vegetation with his thwacker to the tune of chopsticks--which he hums, he is on a desert island--while the heroine admires his prowess and insensitivity.

Since my editor told me she needed only 400 pages from me, the dance had to go. Esp if I keep Montezuma. One really had to see the video that inspired the dirty dance scene to fully appreciate it. Unfortunately, I cannot think of another hero on my immediate horizon who would want to play an imaginary piano with his penis... a leaf banger, if you will.
Do you think I should post it on my website?

I thought cutting would be easier, but Insufficient Mating Material has such deep POV stuff about anger and jealousy and unacceptable secret thoughts that I'm having a hard time.

Rowena Cherry

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Author Courageous

Marissa did a great job explaining why we write, but I think there's even more to applaud in Gail's post. She didn't just write the book -- which is, of course, a monumental achievement. She is willing to share it, too.

A good novel, the most paradoxical of all the storytelling arts, requires that an intensely introverted and solitary sort (the author) hook up through time and space with someone they probably have never and will never meet (the reader), and together they create this magical connection we call "reading." That's such an inadequate word for the experience of a novel. You can "read" a tax form, a jury duty summons, a WalMart receipt. There's more to it when you open a novel and slide into the world the author created.

Without the benefit of graphics, or an actor to convey non-verbal communication, or a singer's voice to layer shades of meaning to lyrics, an author trusts that her novel will hook up with a stranger's imagination and create for that stranger the visions and emotions the author experienced when she put the words on paper.

If you think about it, the act of giving a novel to someone to read, and having that someone read the novel, is almost as intimate and mysterious and courageous as making love.

Either that, or I just link EVERYTHING to sex. It's a possibility.

Congrats to Gail and Marissa on their recent success! :)

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Gotta do it

Yesterday Gail posted on our goal loop that she'd mailed the ms. that was due on her editor's desk. (Brava, Gail!) She was now going to take a few days to do some character work and a few other things, and then get started on the next book.

Now, that's a writer.

A writer writes. There may be different reasons we write, ranging from "my editor expected it yesterday" to "I had an interesting dream last night and want to play with it". But they all boil down to the same thing--we write because that's what we do (after all, you wouldn't have an editor tapping her toe impatiently if it isn't). It's how we make sense of the world. We write because there are stories inside us that have to be told. Some days it's easier than others. Some days we toss out everything we wrote the day before. Other days the words flow, already polished and gleaming, from our fingers. But we write. It takes discipline and training, just like any other profession. But teachers teach because they have to, because that's the way their brains are made. My engineer husband designs wireless communications systems because he can't NOT scribble circuit ideas on napkins in restaurants (very embarrassing if we're eating somewhere upscale).

I know that I get v-e-e-rr-ry cranky if I go more than about two days without having written something. It's like a boiler in my head, constantly bubbling, and writing down what has been simmering in the boiler keeps the engine running smoothly. I know that as I get to the middle of one book, the next book starts whispering (or simmering, to maintain the simile) and gets told that it has to wait its turn. It may only be a page a day, which seems to be the case for me lately :( But I write, because I have to.

How about you?

Thursday, February 09, 2006

The Post Office

Eventually, in every successful writer's life, comes the moment when one must admit defeat--or success, which can sometimes be tougher to admit--realizing that perfection is not attainable this side of glory, and package that manuscript up and ship it out.

Sometimes this involves saving the file one last time, attaching it to an e-mail and hitting send. Sometimes it means printing out 647 pages, typing a cover letter, finding a giant rubber band that won't break when you wrap it around that monstrous pile of paper, locating an envelope that will fit around it (those free Priority Mail Tyvek envelopes from the post office just barely do), and then hauling the thing down to the post office. It's almost as much work getting it out the door as it is writing it.

Well, no, not actually. The writing encompasses several months (years for some writers) (weeks for others) of effort. The printing, packaging and schlepping only take, oh, a day. It is an inevitable part of the process if one wants to be successful. And it's one of the most nervewracking.

I mean, your baby is going out into the world. What if they don't like it? What if they hate it? What if--? Authors can come up with more scary what-ifs than anybody else in the world, because that's what we do. We make stuff up. We're professionals, for cryin' out loud! And it's almost enough to make you want to bundle your baby up and keep it under the bed where it's safe. Almost.

Thing is, if nobody ever sees it--nobody in a position to buy it and publish it so other people can buy it and read it--nothing will ever happen. It won't hurt you. Some people are perfectly happy to write lovely things for themselves and their families. And if that's where you are, great. But me? I'm going to go put on my tennis shoes, stick that humongous envelope in my RWA Anaheim totebag (the perfect size for mail runs) and hike down to the post office. After a while, it hurts less.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Monday Number Four

Man, what a crap week I had.

Yeah, yeah, the Stillerz won the Super Bowl. But I had the flu and didn't put one single word to paper (or screen) in seven days. I wasn't sick enough to call off the day job, but didn't have anything left for the stuff that matters to me once I got the day job done.

This fills me with resentment. You can bet there will be writing done at the day job this week! mwah ha ha evil laugh!

How did everyone else do?

Sunday, February 05, 2006


Where a human tries to explain the trots to an attractive alien....

“I can’t go with Tarrant-Arragon.”

“Oh, so you remember who he is, do you? Scary fellow, isn’t he? Gives hardy fighting men the trots when he is in one of his bad moods. Not so much these days, though.”

“What are trots?”

“Montezuma’s revenge, love. The squirts. Loose bowels. The runs. Trotting is just a slower, more vertically jerky method of running. If I thought about it, I’d have to say that a man might elect to trot if he wanted to clench his buttocks while moving briskly in the direction of a toilet.”

Grievous considered a demonstration trot around the room, but decided against. It wasn’t the image a suitor wanted to impress his future ladylove with.

“No, love. Even if you were back on your feet, and able to remember what the bad guy did to you, you can’t go to a party with Tarrant-Arragon.”

So, what do you think, Bloggers? Should I move literary Heaven and Earth to keep it in, or should I cut it with immense relief (since I need to shorten my novel by 100 more pages) ?

Rowena Cherry