Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am....

That Rowena Cherry packed so much action into less than 15,000 words is mind-boggling. It's hard enough when you writer Contemporary Romance or Historical Romance - the readers are "used" to these worlds so you don't have to fill in all the spaces. But in Sci-Fi Romance, you are really biting off a major task. Cherry does it and with style, originality and deftness that will leave the reader amazed.

It's a racy, razor edge of a tale, which will leave you amazed at how she does so much with so few pages.

~Deborah MacGillivray, author of A Restless Knight, Reviewer for The Best Reviews, Paranormal Romance Reviews, Sensual Romance Reviews & Rambles

His Mightiness looks for Romance...and coffee

The god-Emperor Djohn-Kronos hasn't had decent sex in a gestate and is looking for a good time tonight, April 1st. His High and Mightiness will attend the Coffeetime chat at 9pm Eastern in hopes of meeting a few witty, willing, and pleasantly impressionable Earthwomen.

http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/ctr_chat.htm

Could someone shine a light on the dark paranormal?

Dark paranormal. Everyone wants em. But I'm not sure what it is everyone wants. As a grittily determined author clawing toward first publication, it's a source of frustration.

What I think of as "dark" may be dismissed as just weird. Or too tame. Or (probably) oh-my-God-how-can-you-even-consider-putting-something-that-gross-in-a-romance-novel?

So what the heck is going through your minds, editors and agents?

Are you looking for the that classic noir feel, with the jaded narrative voice backed up by smoky saxophones and slow-walking baselines?

Are you looking for the hero and heroine to overcome life-or-death, or worse-than-death, jeopardy to find their happy ending??

Do you want the reader to be on the edge of her seat, wondering if the hero will win the heroine's heart or just rip out her throat?

Do you need one of the lovers to be a paranormal person, or can they both be human fighting a great mucking evil?

Are you looking for epic-poetic internal discourses about the anguish of sucking blood? (Please no, as I reader I beg you not more of that!) Or, you know, sucking anything? (This is a much better option.)

Or are you looking for Clive Barker-esque or Hannibal-and-Clarise-ish where the important people actually end up happily together? (Because that's what I want to read, baby.)

Someone deliver me from confusion!

Keeping the writing going

It's a long slow slog through pages and pages of story. You just have to keep going till you get to the end, through orgasms and coitus interruptus, through sword fights and gun battles and curious fish and one blasted thing after another until you can finally write The End.

And sometimes, you get to pull stuff out from under the bed and look it over and think: "Damn, that's still good."

So, yeah, I mailed one of those to my agent on Friday. Let's hope other folks think it's as good as I do.

Should I have an orgasm

In my book... of course?

I'm on tenterhooks, as you might imagine. I rewrote INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL to cut down severely on the scenes with psychics and playing cards, and to engorge the pages with sexual tension, and coitus interruptus.

Sex gone wrong --for someone else-- is so much more entertaining to read about than sex going right, isn't it? Or do I simply have a nasty streak?

I think IMM is a sexy book, but now it is on the editor's desk and on the way to a few of my favorite reviewers, I have started to agonize about a certain scene.

As I've mentioned, I'm severely restricted on page count, so it's not as if I could throw pages to the wind with gratuitous sex scenes. If I were writing for an erotica line, there'd be no doubt in my mind that the hero and heroine should not miss any opportunity.

But... oh, here's my problem... if I were on a deserted island sea shore, and the sea was cold --it usually is-- and I wasn't immensely confident about my relationship with the guy, AND I was afraid of getting seawater in my ears, I don't think I'd try to re-enact From Here To Eternity.

Would you?

Did Owein have an orgasm?

Hey all, I'm just thrilled to be invited to contribute this snobby, literary-minded, upper class blog! But I mean, really - penises being bitten by fish, phallic rhubarbs, oral sex - how's a nice girl like me supposed to keep up with all that?

So I had to think long and hard (about 30 seconds) about the subject of my first post.

This is what I decided: In keeping with the august literary tone of this blog, I figure there are a lot of people out there who would just love to listen in on the high-brow literary discussions that go on between an author and her editor.

So here you have it, a real, honest to goodness recap of last week's phone conversation between me and my editor at Dorchester.

Setting: my day job

Time: just after lunch

Picture this: The phone rings. It's my editor calling from Dorchester. I immediately ditch the day job to talk to her. She wants to discuss edits for The Grail King, my August Love Spell book.

Luckily, I have the final manuscript saved on my work computer.

"Okay," she says, "page 177. What I need to know is, did Owein have an orgasm?"

"Um," I say, looking around wildly. There are a couple people - of the male persuasion - on the other side of the room.

"Because," she says, "it's clear that Clara had an orgasm, but I'm not sure if Owein had his."

"I bet you don't even blush when you say things like that," I say, blushing.

"No, pretty much at this point I've gotten over all that."

Since editors are busy people with no time for trivial things like false modesty, she forges right ahead.

"Since Owein is really vulnerable to Clara's psychic power just at the point when he reaches his orgasm, I think it's important to make sure the reader knows that it happened for him right here, before you go into the flashback."

"Um," I say again. "Okay." I eye the guys on the other side of the room. "Let me think about that and get back to you."

"All right, good. Now, on page 295..."

So I go home and print out the orgasm passage. I don't know about other writers, but I really like to see the words on an actual sheet of paper rather than on the computer screen.

It's a nice scene, I think. Owein has been trying to shield himself from Clara's psychic ability to see inside his mind. He's got some nasty stuff in his past that he just doesn't want to face. At the same time, Owein hasn't had sex in two years, so he's REALLY hot for some action.

Unfortunately, when Owein has an orgasm, he can't keep Clara out of his mind.

I realize my editor is right (of course) - I have to make it clear that Clara has made Owein lose control of both his body and his mind. After all, that's a romance heroine's job, right?


Here's the original passage:

Her passion broke. His fingers moved on her, sharpening her pleasure. A sob tore from her throat. Her body convulsed as she gasped his name.

The sound echoed in his soul.

Here's what I add:

It caught him and pulled him with her. Sensations expanded, until he could no longer keep them within. His pleasure broke, shattering what was left of his emotions. The door to his heart splintered.

Next line:

And suddenly, he felt her there, inside.


I was pretty happy with that. I sent it on to her the other day. Hope she likes it!

Blog with you later,

Joy
www.joynash.com

About that penis bitten by a fish

I want to thank Brenda for the comment on an earlier thread... does he have to wank?

After mature consideration,
I decided that if the heroine was examining the penis for fish tooth indentations, that would be exciting enough considering all the things the hero could think about. That saved a paragraph!

I sent the manuscript in to my editor yesterday. It was 404 pages including the blank final page that said only The End.

The book is INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL, it is scheduled for February 2007.

It's About the Treatment of Women

A Public Service Announcement:

http://www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com/billnapoli

Cute Advertising Ploy

Hi all,

I was cyber-chatting with Joy Nash and she directed me to her site.
She'd done a cute advertising ploy, a psuedo-interview with her characters.
I thought: WHAT A GREAT IDEA! Especially since my www.dellishchronicles.net is sort of geared toward a neo-reality. (Have you all read Jago's welcome letter to new recruits?)

Anyway, I thought this was a great idea and thought to share, with Joy's permission of course.
http://joynash.blogspot.com/

Cheers!

stasis-- a way to get off the pot...boiler

Sorry to be clinically crude....

I'm eight days from my submission deadline for a 100,000 word story (that I've been asked to cut to nearer 80,000 words).

Cutting left me with about 16 pages of disjointed story points and lines of dialogue or internal dialogue that I simply have to retain. I've been blocked on what to do about it for over a month.... a precious month.

Today--already!--, I realized that I should try putting some of it in the heroine's point of view, even though it was counter intuitive because the hero was eavesdropping on the heroine chatting with a hooker... yes, about his strange looking dork.

I had a boring but important preamble to the fish bites penis action scene, and I could not, as I've said, figure out what to do with it.

Eureka! It adds immense depth.... the heroine wants to be overheard!

What a really good rotorooter when you're stuck on the potboiler.

Best wishes,
Rowena

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?

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...

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

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!

b

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

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! :)

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?

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 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?

MONTEZUMA'S REVENGE--outtake?

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
INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL