10 Fun Facts About Pirates by Normandie Alleman (@normandiea)

Guest Blogger, , , , , , ,

normandiealleman_tourbuttonWhen I was conducting research for the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy I learned a lot about pirates. Some of what I learned surprised me. Here are ten of the more interesting tidbits I picked up.

  1. Most pirate ships didn’t have a physician or surgeon on board unless one was captured and “convinced” to serve on the ship. Often these medical doctors were not forced to sign the ship’s articles. That way if they were ever captured the doctor could maintain that he was innocent of engaging in piracy.
  2. A pirate captain was elected and could always be “unelected” by his men. A pirate ship was more of a democracy than a dictatorship.
  3. The quartermaster received more of the booty than the rest of the crew and the same amount as the captain. He was more powerful than the first mate.
  4. Pirates didn’t eat very well, with meat jerky and hardtack making up the majority of their diet. This is why they often suffered from scurvy.
  5. Fresh water was a luxury, which was why they were actually encouraged to drink rum and other alcoholic beverages. These remained sanitary longer than the casks of fresh water.
  6. Women were not usually allowed to sail on pirate ships, as they were considered too much of a distraction.
  7. An eye-patch could be a disadvantage in a swordfight because it affects peripheral vision and depth perception.
  8. Pirates succumbed to numerous mosquito-born illnesses as well as venereal diseases from their visits to prostitutes.
  9. There is a difference between being a pirate and a privateer. A privateer worked for the English government and was legally sanctioned to “commandeer” goods from Spanish ships. Pirates, on the other hand, engaged in illegal activity.
  10. While it was a real pirate town in the Bahamas, Port Royal was destroyed by an earthquake in 1692 and is no longer inhabited.

 

Bound by the BuccaneerHere’s an excerpt from my latest erotic historical novella Bound by the Buccaneer

“You did what?” A white fury had overtaken Frederica, and was now in a full-blown rage. “You agreed I would do what?” Her voice grew more shrill by the minute.

Gaston had taken her back to their cabin aboard the Ocean’s Knave and told her about his agreement with Pugwash, Chatham, and Appling. He seemed upset about the bargain too, his brow had a new crease and he looked weary. He sat on the bed as Frederica paced around the room trying to absorb the news.

“If you won’t agree to this, Freddie, we will not receive their protection. We will be sailing the Caribbean marked men, the prime target for every pirate ship on the water. Our crew is mighty, but one day we will find ourselves out-manned, out-gunned, or both.

We headed down this path because you don’t have the stomach for killing innocents, but there are consequences to every action. And the consequences for what we’ve done is that we’re the most hunted, most wanted pirates in the Caribbean.”

“Good deeds must be punished? Is that what you’re saying?” she asked defiantly.

“Frederica, you are not a child. Do not behave as one. Pirates, as a rule, do not share your scruples. Perhaps I should never have gone along with your idea to raid other pirate ships, but I did and there’s no sense in rehashing events from the past. What’s done is done.

“The answer is simple. We need protection, a larger force. There is strength in numbers and these three Captains are willing to join us with their ships and their crews. That would make us 400 strong, Frederica! Imagine that…The only snag is if they think me a dandy who dances to a woman’s tune they will have no desire to be associated with the Ocean’s Knave.” He shook his head. “And no pirate worth his salt would blame them”

Knowing he spoke the truth did little to quell her concerns. Her stomach tightened. “I still don’t understand why they must bed me,” she complained. Gaston was treating her as if she were a possession to be shared without a hint of concern for how his actions would affect her, and it hurt.

Running out of patience he sighed. “My dear, if I offer you as a gift they will view you more as my property than as my shrew, thereby proving their concerns are unfounded.”

Rolling her eyes she repeated his words with a sneer. “Your property?”

“Yes, my property,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.

“But…” she tried to find words. The idea of three men, strangers to her, taking her body as they wished frightened her. However, along with the fear, she felt a little glimmer of excitement and possibly curiosity. Gaston was the only man she’d ever been intimate with, and now she wondered what it would be like to be taken by another man.

 

Bound by the Buccaneer

Two years have passed since Frederica joined Gaston aboard the Ocean’s Knave, and with every passing hour they have fallen more deeply in love. By day she is the ship’s physician, but at night she serves her captain in his bed, offering her body for him to punish and pleasure until she begs for more. But after a successful run of raiding other pirate ships, the couple have a target on their backs.

Their only hope is to form an alliance with a trio of like-minded captains, but in order to guarantee the cooperation of these unyielding, battle-hardened men, Gaston is forced to offer them a night with Frederica. Reluctantly, she agrees to be shared with the men, but afterwards Gaston finds it difficult to forgive himself for bartering Frederica’s charms. As jealousy and desperation threaten to consume him, will Gaston lose his beloved Frederica or can he weather the storm and find a way to bind her to him forever?

Publisher’s Note: Bound by the Buccaneer is the second book of the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy, which began with Rescued by the Buccaneer. It is an adventure and erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including a foursome, anal play, elements of BDSM, and more.

You can pick up your copy of Bound by the Buccaneer today:

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/kcgqmgq
Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/oe2or3c
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/pf4sa6z
ARe: http://tinyurl.com/ml2ra5j
Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/ljhyhp6
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/nclg55o

Since the Pirate of the Jolie Rouge Trilogy is best read in order, here’s more about the first book:

Rescued by the BuccaneerRescued by the Buccaneer

When Frederica Beauchamp boards a ship for the Americas, she dreams of a life filled with adventure, but she gets more than she bargained for when her passenger ship is attacked by pirates.  The heartless men kidnap her and force her to serve their captain—a fate that might be worse than death, since though he does not have his way with her, the captain delights in baring her, shaming her, and thrashing her bare bottom as punishment for every imagined disobedience.

After the pirates bring aboard an injured man found floating in the sea, Frederica tends to his wounds and learns that he is Gaston Galette, a survivor of a shipwrecked vessel. Gaston seeks her help to overthrow the vile captain, but when their plan goes awry he is forced to use all of his wiles to save them. As the naïve girl and the seasoned sailor navigate one perilous situation after another, he informs Frederica that the only way they can survive is if he is in command, and that if she thinks things can be otherwise, she will be taken over his knee for a bare bottom spanking.

As he watches the proud, willful Frederica bow to his authority, however, Gaston worries that her growing hold on his heart will be his downfall. He knows he cannot take a woman with him when he returns to his ship and crew, but when Frederica accepts his lustful dominance completely, submitting to him with grace and beauty no other woman could match, Gaston realizes that he may never be able to let her go.

Publisher’s Note: Rescued by the Buccaneer is the first book of the Pirates of the Jolie Rouge trilogy. It is an adventure and erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes including elements of BDSM and humiliation, and more.

You can find Rescued by the Buccaneer here:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/MIQL4h
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1dXBCU5
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/OWS1Tu
ARe: http://bit.ly/1hG7am4
Kobo: bit.ly/1hLLsfS

 

AllemanLogoSmallAbout the Author

A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull.

Find her here:
Twitter at @NormandieA  https://twitter.com/NormandieA
Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/NormandieA
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NormandieAlleman
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Normandie-Alleman/e/B00BNUDVFW
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6893037.Normandie_Alleman
Her website: www.normandiealleman.com

 

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The Silk Tie by Lily Harlem (@lily_harlem)

Guest Blogger, , , , , , , ,

The Silk Tie“If you enjoyed The Glass Knot you’ll LOVE The Silk Tie.”

New from Lily Harlem, The Silk Tie, a steamy ménage a trois novel (mmf) that celebrates desire, fantasy and follows the brave decision of a woman to let a third into a her relationship. It’s steamy, sexy and leaves no detail unexplored. Grab a copy, settle down and enjoy a rollercoaster of emotions with Hayley, Gabe and Brent.

The Silk Tie is available from Amazon

The Glass Knot is available from Amazon and all other good ebook retailers

 

Back cover information

Professional life in the City of London is tough going which is why my husband Gabe and I live by the motto work hard and play hard. So when something, or rather someone, comes along that changes how he wants to play I’m intrigued by our sexy new game.

But there’s always private sides to the ones you love, and in this case new thoughts and desires are stealing Gabe’s dreams. It’s not until I meet Brent—gorgeous and sophisticated yet soul-achingly alone—that I begin to understand the complex layers of Gabe’s needs and exactly what I have to do.

But I’m not afraid; in fact the idea of two men turns me the hell on. In a whirlwind of romance, fear, desire and a new cresting wave of passion we open up to each other, testing the water for one weekend only. Or is it? Will we ever be the same again? Can Gabe and I survive our decision to let a third into our bed? Can Brent just walk away and, more importantly, will we let him?

 

Excerpt

The bathroom door opened, and Gabe wandered out wearing his favorite pair of worn jeans. His chest was bare and his hair was damp and pushed back over his head. He’d shaved that morning but I could smell a fresh application of his most expensive cologne.

“How are you doing?” I asked, standing.

Damn, he looked so absolutely fuckable.

He walked up to me and cupped my face. “I’m fine, are you?”

“Yes.” My stomach was tense and my skin hot and tingly, a bit like going up the ramp on a rollercoaster. But I was okay.

“No matter what happens, remember I love you,” Gabe said. “You’re my wife, my soul mate. Nothing can change that.”

“I know, and you remember that this is your moment of fun with Brent. Go with it. Forget I’m here. Realize the fantasy.”

“I doubt I’ll forget that you’re here…” He paused and smiled. “Well, maybe a little.”

I ran my hand down his chest then smoothed it over the lower curve of his defined pectoral muscles. “I put out the lube and condoms.”

He glanced at the locker. “Thanks.”

There was a knock at the door.

We both looked at each other then at the entrance to the room.

The door opened and Brent walked in.

He wore tight black boxers and nothing else. Like Gabe’s, his hair was damp.

He shut the door up and stood still, staring at us.

Gabe dropped his hands from my face and I took a step away.

“It’s dark in here,” Brent said.

“Too dark?” Gabe asked. “I can open the curtains.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Brent said, walking around the end of the bed and up to Gabe. “I can see you but it’s not dazzling. My eyes are adjusting now.” He smiled and gestured to the chair, looked my way. “You’ve found your viewing position, I see.”

“Yes.” I nodded.

He stepped past Gabe, reached for my hand and drew my knuckles to his lips. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

I swallowed. “I’m sure I will.”

He released me and turned to Gabe.

I admired Brent’s torso as he moved. Long and sleek, his muscles rippled gently beneath the surface. He didn’t appear to have any fat on him, he was just neat, harnessed strength. And his boxers covered an impressive bulge, the outline of which was easily made out. I’d guess he was already half-mast just with the anticipation of fucking Gabe.

“You smell good,” he said to Gabe as he ran the tip of his index finger over Gabe’s shoulder and down his bicep. “Delicious, in fact.”

Gabe tensed. “Thank you.”

“Relax,” Brent said. “You want this.”

“I do,” Gabe said, “I want you.”

Brent smiled then leaned forward and kissed my husband.

I stood and watched, mesmerized, the way I had been when I’d spied on them. Their large jaws moved in time. Both men had their eyes shut and the dance of their mouths showed their sleek tongues touching and exploring.

Gabe moaned a little, how he did when he became lost in a kiss, and he set his hands on the sides of Brent’s waist. The touch seemed a little hesitant, a bit awkward, though I could tell he was completely invested in the kiss.

Brent pulled back a fraction. He rested his palm on Gabe’s cheek then turned to me. “Come here, Hayley.”

I did as he’d asked. “What?” I asked quietly. My heart was thudding—just seeing them kiss did seriously stimulating things to my libido.

“Kiss him,” Brent said. “Kiss your husband.”

That was an instruction I didn’t need to be given twice.

Brent kept his hand on Gabe’s face as I meshed my lips with Gabe’s, prodding his tongue with mine and absorbing the lingering flavor of Brent in his mouth.

When I broke the kiss, Brent placed his hand on my face, too, so he was holding us both.

“You two are hot together,” he said smiling. “And so perfect for one another. I feel honored that you’ve let me in to fulfill a fantasy.”

“We feel the same about you being here,” Gabe said. He touched Brent’s mouth with his fingertips and traced the shape of his lips.

Brent smiled and gazed at Gabe. He then dropped his hand from my face and, as I’d done earlier, he caressed Gabe’s chest.

I felt Gabe’s shoulder shift against mine as he sucked in a breath. Being touched sensually, by a man, was what he’d wanted.

“I didn’t think you’d bother with jeans,” Brent said, slipping his hand down to Gabe’s waistband.

“I’m commando,” Gabe said with an almost shy smile.

Brent waggled his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Let’s have a look then, shall we?” Brent sank to his knees so his face was level with Gabe’s groin.

He undid the top button on Gabe’s jeans, then the next and the next. His big fingers worked slowly but steadily and his face held a serious expression of concentration.

Gabe was utterly still at my side.

Brent released the last button then tugged and shifted the jeans down to Gabe’s knees.

Gabe’s cock sprung forward, stiff and thick. The veins were raised and it jutted jauntily toward Brent’s face.

“Commando works for me,” Brent said. He swept his tongue over his bottom lip and stared at Gabe’s erection.

“I need…” Gabe kicked a little and rid himself of his trousers completely. “To lose these.”

Brent smiled and shoved the jeans aside. He didn’t take his gaze from Gabe’s cock. “Good, naked is how I like you best, so it seems.”

I liked Gabe naked too, but I wasn’t about to speak and break the sizzling connection between the two men. It was almost palpable. The air was alive with need.

Brent slid his palms up from Gabe’s knees to his thighs then tickled his fingers through Gabe’s wiry pubic hair.

Again Gabe tensed. He swayed too.

“You have an incredible dick,” Brent said. “I want to taste it.”

“Okay…” Gabe said, his voice breathy and light. “I mean yes…please do.”

Brent smiled, but only briefly because then he opened his mouth, leaned forward and took the head of Gabe’s cock between his lips. He gripped Gabe’s shaft with his right hand and with his left, scooped up his balls.

“Ah, fuck,” Gabe said. He toppled backward a few inches before adjusting his balance.

I snapped out my arm and curled it around his waist, felt his weight sag against me as I supported him.

“That’s…oh, God, your mouth on me…Brent.”

Gabe didn’t need to say the words. Brent’s mouth, stretched around the flare of Gabe’s cock, was a beautiful and highly erotic sight.

Brent slid Gabe’s shaft deeper. His eyes were shut and his jaw pulled wide. He fed Gabe in, slipping his fingers over his erection.

Gabe reached out and weaved his fingers into Brent’s hair. “Fucking hell,” he gasped.

Brent kept going. I knew how much of Gabe I could take in my mouth, and it wasn’t to the root but Brent was nearly there now. His cheeks bulged and his nostrils flared. I could hear him breathing hard through his nose.

Gabe panted and stared downward.

I held him tight, my nipples peaking against my floaty sundress and my pussy dampening the gusset of my knickers.

“Ahh, yeah…”Gabe said, rocking his hips forward.

Brent’s face became buried in Gabe’s pubic hair. His shoulders were raised, tense, and his hand that had gripped Gabe’s cock now squeezed Gabe’s hip, his knuckles were paling.

I knew he’d be fighting his gag reflex. He had Gabe so deep, so far down.

He began to withdraw.

Gabe’s cock came into view, inch-by-inch, saliva-coated and shiny.

Gabe dragged in a deep breath then blew it out slowly.

Brent took hold of Gabe’s shaft again and held it tight. He pumped from the base to the tip several times, pulling on the skin and working his tongue over and into the slit.

Gabe moaned and flexed his hips.

“Ready for more?” Brent asked, looking up at Gabe.

“Yes,” Gabe said. “Absolutely.”

Again, Brent opened his mouth wide. He took Gabe on a fast ride to full-depth.

Gabe gasped and curled his fingers into fists in Brent’s hair.

My hands tingled with a desire to also touch Brent. Feel his hair, the texture of his skin. But I didn’t, I kept them to myself. One arm around Gabe’s waist, the other bunching up a handful of my sundress. I couldn’t interfere, that wasn’t my role here.

Brent was pulling back and sinking deep on Gabe’s cock over and over, his whole body rocking backward and forward.

Gabe was breathing fast, his abdomen was tense and I could feel tremors rippling over his muscles.

“Stop,” Gabe said suddenly. “Please, no more. You’re going to make me come.”

Brent let Gabe’s shaft slip from his mouth. “That’s the idea.”

“Not…like this…I want…I need…”

Buy The Silk Tie Here:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MDWQ5KW

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Silk-Tie-Erotic-Threesome-Romance-ebook/dp/B00MDWQ5KW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1407140634&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Silk+Tie+%28Erotic+Threesome+Romance%29

 

lily-harlemLily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including Ellora’s Cave, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Xcite and Sweetmeats Press. Her HOT ICE series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release in 2012.

Her latest novel, Breathe You In, is a super-sexy romance with a twist that will not only heat you up but stay with you for years to come. Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2013.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set Trilogy available exclusively on Amazon – The Novice, The Player and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

 

Lily Harlem Links
Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/
Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem
Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/
Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk
BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk
Hockey Romance http://www.hockeyromance.com
Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html
Hot Ice https://www.facebook.com/hoticeseries
Google+https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts
Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

 

Author Pages 

Ellora’s Cave Totally Bound Amazon US Amazon UK ARe Kobo B&N Sony ibooks

Digging Deep by Louisa Bacio (@louisabacio)

Guest Blogger, , , , , ,

louisabacio_tourbuttonSebastian Cox, the hero of The Big One, is a tortured soul. Like most creative types, he pours his sorrows into his music. By nature, I don’t plot out my stories. I let the elements come to me as they’re being written. Without giving too much away, Sebastian’s backstory gave me chills.

According to Ghosts and Gravestones of Savannah, Georgia, “Few things terrified the Victorian public more than being buried alive. Accidental burials in the 1800s were often the result of limited understanding of comas and high fevers where victims would appear to be lifeless and were quickly buried by mistake” (p. 87). When surveyed, most people rate being “buried alive” as one of the worst ways to die.

Being trapped in an underground bunker during an earthquake feeds off those fears. When I first started writing The Big One, I thought, “There doesn’t have to be a reason why Sebastian doesn’t like being underground, it’s natural.” Plenty of people feel that way, right? I mean research shows it.

But in fiction, that backstory can make it all the more poignant. When all the pieces came together, it totally resonated and clicked. Readers will probably be amazed that the connections were not planned out, and therein – to me – lies the beauty of not plotting. When it all comes together, it feels like magic.

Tell me: What are some other common fears humanity shares?

Thanks so much for hosting me!

 

Excerpt

“You want out of here? Fine, go for it.” Kayla pointed toward the doorway. “Be my guest and try to break the lock. If you succeed, I make no promises to your safety out there. We don’t know what’s happening. Maybe this was a minor shaker, or maybe the real thing, but what’s it going to hurt to sit tight and figure it out?”

“You plan on helping me pass the time in a more enjoyable manner?” He wagged his eyebrows at her, and despite herself, and her promise to have a strong will, a flutter started low in her belly. She couldn’t be attracted to him. He was such a neophyte. People like him never understood her.

“You watch yourself there.” She turned around and stalked to the other side of the room. Okay, given they were in such a small space, there wasn’t any getting away from him at the moment. He—and people like him—made her so mad.

“What about being optimistic?” he asked. “Thinking about the best in people. Self-fulfilling prophecies and life affirmations?”

“You can be positive all you want, and it’s not going to fill up your tank of gas. Having money, in smaller bills, hidden in case the banks crash and your ATM card doesn’t work—that’s being prepared. Just because I believe in reserving some supplies doesn’t mean I willed all this to happen. It did, and I’m ready for it.”

“‘Reserving?’ Is that what they’re calling it nowadays? I thought it was more akin to hoarding.”

Hoarding? He really didn’t get it. His comment hung in the air, and she did her best to ignore it. No matter what she said, the scorn from nonbelievers hurt. She grew up with her father being harassed by family members. It was only a matter of time before it was her turn. And her sister? Well, forget about telling her anything about being prepared. Maybe as destruction hit and a certain segment of the population was taken out, they’d be all gone. All that would be left would be those who’d taken the necessary precautions.

A wave of dizziness at the implications hit her, and she sat back down.

Right. As if life worked like that.

 

The Big OneBlurb:

The last thing marketing assistant Kayla Morgan expects to do on a Friday morning is give a tour of her emergency shelter to a flighty rock star. When her boss orders her to play nice, she acquiesces.

Sebastian Cox, lead singer of The U.K. Underground, finds the American bird with the bunker in her backyard more than wacky, but the band’s looking for a location to shoot their latest video.

When an earthquake strikes, the unlikely couple gets trapped and finds a few ways to keep themselves busy. Once reality sets in, will their differences leave them on shaky ground?

Available via Amazon, Decadent Publishing, ARe, Barnes & Noble and other eRetailers.

 

About Louisa Bacio

A Southern California native, Louisa Bacio can’t imagine living far away from the ocean. The multi-published author of erotic romance enjoys writing within all realms – from short stories to full-length novels.

Bacio shares her household with a supportive husband, two daughters growing “too fast,” and a multitude pet craziness: Two dogs, five fish tanks, an aviary, hamsters, rabbits and hermit crabs. In her other life, she teaches college classes in English, journalism and popular culture.

Visit her online at: http://www.louisabacio.com, http://www.facebook.com/louisabacio

and http://www.twitter.com/louisabacio

 

Contest:

1) 3-book bundle of 1Night Stand titles: A Date with Death, A Dance with Death and A Duel with Death.

2) $15 gift card to Amazon

3) Grand prize: Emergency kit and swag pack (shipping to U.S. only).

Contest ends: Aug. 11

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Pointers for Writing Sex in Fiction

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As a writer of erotic romance, I’m always trying to analyze the ways in which sex strengthens story. I’ve been very vocal in my belief that a story without sex is like a story without eating or breathing. Sex is a major driving force in our lives on many levels that I’ve dealt with in many blog posts. Because it is a major driving force in our lives it must also be a major driving force in story. Sex is a powerful way to create conflict and chaos in a story. It’s a way of allowing our characters to interact on an intimate level. And it’s one of the very best ways to cut through our characters’ facades and get an honest look at who they are when their guard is down and they’re at their most vulnerable. With that in mind, I’ve decided to share a few points that I always find helpful when I write sex scenes. For me, going back to the basics is always a great way to sharpen my skills. And I love to share the things that work for me.

Three occasions not to write sexwriting image 2

1. While writing children’s books
2. While writing the definitive work on antique saltcellars.
3. When you’re not a writer, you’re a bricklayer. Even then …

Three important reasons to incorporate sex in your writing

1. Sex adds tension.
2. Sex adds depth and dimension to a story, and gives it more humanity.
3. Sex adds intimacy and transparency to the story and helps the reader better know the characters.

Three big no-nos in writing sex

1. Sex should never be gratuitous. If it doesn’t further the story, don’t put it in.
2. Sex shouldn’t be a trip to the gyno office. Technical is NOT sexy.
3. Sex should never be clichéd or OTT. (unless it suits the story)

Four suggestions for writing better sex scenes
1. Write sex unselfconsciously. No one is going to believe it’s you any more than they believe Thomas Harris is a cannibal.
2. Sex scenes should always be pacey. Too much detail is worse than not enough. Sex should neither slow nor speed up the pace of the novel. It shouldn’t be used like an interval in a play. It should not serve as filler to bolster word count. It should always keep pace with the story being told.
3. Approach sex in your writing voyeuristically by watching and learning from your characters. Their personalities, emotional baggage and behavior traits will dictate how they have sex and how you write it.

4. You should always be able to feel a good sex scene in your gut. I’m not talking about wank material, I’m talking about The Clench. It’s a different animal. The clench below the navel is for the sex scene what the tightness in the chest and shoulders is for the suspense scene.

The power of good sex can drive a story in ways that almost nothing else can. Good sex can be the pay-off for a hundred pages of sexual chemistry and tension, but the pay-off is even better if it’s also the cause of more chaos sling-shotting the reader breathlessly on to the next hundred pages and the next.

Mythology and Inspiration

Blog, Inspiration, ,

(From the Archives)

It’s elusive, it’s mysterious, it’s exhilarating, and we erotic writers crave it more than the sex we write waterhouse_apollo_and_daphneabout. We chase it shamelessly, we long for it passionately, we would gladly make ourselves slaves to its every whim and, no matter how fickle it is, we always welcome it back with open arms. When it’s with us, it’s at least as good as the best sex. And when it’s not, we mourn its loss like a lover. I’m talking about inspiration, of course. It’s the breath of life for every story ever written and the coveted ethereal presence that every writer yearns for.

The mythological link to inspiration is especially interesting to me in the light of a life-long fascination with mythology. My novel, The Initiation of Ms Holly, is a retelling of the Psyche and Eros myth. My new novel, The Pet Shop, is a rough retelling of Beauty and the Beast, which of course is just another version of Psyche and Eros. Several of my short stories have direct mythological connections.

Greek mythology – mythology of any kind, really — is fabulous inspiration for smutters. The gods are always dipping their wicks where they don’t belong and finding ever more creative ways to do so. Nine months later, viola! A magical child is born, a child with gifts that will be needed to save the world, or at least a little part of it. But there’s one story where the lovely virgin resists, and no wick-dipping occurs. That’s the story of Apollo and Daphne.

The Muses serve Apollo, so of course this myth interests me. Apollo is the god of light and the sun; truth and prophecy; medicine, healing, and plague. He is the god of music, poetry, and the arts; and all intellectual pursuit. Daphne is a mountain nymph and not interested in giving up her virginity to some randy god. While Apollo is pursuing her, she prays to her father, who is a river god, and he turns her into a laurel tree. Ovid claims it’s not Daphne’s fault that she’s not hot for Apollo right back. He claims that Cupid, who is angry at Apollo shoots Daphne with a leaden arrow, which prevents her from returning Apollo’s feelings. But what matters is that she misses out on Apollo’s inspiration.

My theory is that the whole mythology of gods coming down from Olympus, or wherever else gods come down from, to seduce humans is really nothing more than a metaphor for inspiration.

leda Cornelis_Bos_-_Leda_and_the_Swan_-_WGA2486Consider all the different forms in which Zeus visits his paramours. He takes the form of a swan with Leta, he visits Danae in a shower of gold coins, he approaches Europa as a white bull. Writers understand that inspiration can take absolutely any shape, and often the very shape we least expect.

The gods aren’t always gentle in their seductions. Hades drags Persephone off to the underworld
screaming and kicking all the way. Zeus turns Io into a white cow, who is tortured and tormented by Hera. In the form of an eagle, he abducts Ganymede and drags him away to Mount Olympus. Writers know well that inspiration doesn’t always come in a gentle form. In fact one of my creative writing teachers used to advise her students to go to the place inside themselves that most frightened them, most disgusted them, most disturbed them, and that’s the place where they would find inspiration, that’s the place from which their writing would be the most powerful.

Finally, whether inspiration comes in gentle, beautiful forms or whether it drags us kicking and screaming and tears us from limb to limb, the result will be something greater than what it sprang from. From the seductions of the gods, the children born were always larger than life. They were heroes and monsters and fantastical creatures, but they were all born of that joining of divinity and humanity, they were all the result of what happens when something greater penetrates the blood and the bone and the grey matter that is our humanity. What comes from that inspiration may indeed be monstrous or fantastical, but it will always be, in the mythical sense, born of the gods.

Which leads me back to Daphne and Apollo. The cost of inspiration is the loss of innocence. We are seduced, we are penetrated, we are impregnated with something new, something fresh, something possibly even frightening, something that we, as writers must carry to term and give birth to. But none of
that can happen without yielding to the seduction. Daphne became a tree, unable to move, unable to
think, unable to ever be penetrated or inspired. One can only imagine what may have resulted from the psyche_et_lamour_327x567willing union with the god of light and truth and poetry and the arts and all the things we writers crave. I’ll be honest, I fantasize about Apollo. I fantasize about inviting him right on in and saying I’m yours. I’ll
take all you can give me, and please, feel free to stay as long as you like. Though, in truth, in my fantasy, I skip the dangerous and scary bits. And encounters with inspiration can often be dangerous and scary.

There is a cost to inspiration. It’s the obsession we all know as writers, the one that won’t allow us to think about anything else in the waking world and sometimes even in the dream world until we get the very last word down, until we make it shine exactly the way we conceived it, exactly the way it penetrated us. My heart is racing just writing this because every writer knows what it feels like, and every writer lives for it to happen again and again and again. So yeah, forget the tree rubbish, laurel or otherwise. Inspiration, take me, I’m yours. Have your way with me. I couldn’t be more willing if I tried.