Six Sentence Sunday

From tentatively titled "Lay Me Down"

She had questioned this the first time he’d asked for it, but apparently Tim had picked up the curiosity from Carson, his freshmen roommate (who Sadie mostly remembered as being kind of slutty, based on how many times Tim had walked into the room to find him underneath some guy, bent nearly in half and moaning so loudly that people had complained). And now she loved the way it made Tim fall so completely apart under her hands and mouth.

            She pressed her index finger into him gently, only realizing at the whispered “oh, fuck” that escaped him how wet she was getting from this. She added a little more lube and worked her finger in to the first knuckle. Tim let out a little whine and she realized had been neglecting his cock. She sank her mouth down over the head with a gentle suck of apology as she pushed just a little deeper inside him. 

The Submissive Female Fantasy: Why EL James, Bella Swan and Newsweek Can (get on their knees and) Suck Me

“The Submissive Female Fantasy: Why EL James, Bella Swan, and Newsweek Can (get on their knees and) Suck Me”

By Lilith Duvalier

“She can enjoy his punishments and leather whips and mild humiliations without ever having to say that she sought them out or chose them. It’s not that she wants to be whipped, it’s that she willingly endures it out of love for, and maybe in effort to save, a handsome man. This little trick of the mind, of course, is one of the central aspects of sexual submission: you can experience it without claiming responsibility, without committing to actually wanting it, which has a natural appeal to both our puritan past and our post ironic present.”

- The Fantasy Life of Working Women: Why Surrender is a Feminist Dream by Katie Roiphe, Newsweek.

Let me start with a few caveats:

1. It is obviously counterproductive to get prescriptive about people’s sexual fantasies if no one is getting hurt.

2. Stephanie Meyers is an uneducated hack who stumbled into a formula.

3. I haven’t read “50 Shades of Grey” and I’m not going to, cause fuck it that’s why.

4. Fuck the expectation of “Different Strokes” and “Judge Not” and “Don’t Make Waves” that as a “nice young lady” I’m supposed to adhere to-

            While I understand BDSM games and the appeal of spicing things up in the bedroom, even in a somewhat extreme way and even on a fairly regular basis if that sort of thing flips your skirt- I think that the 24/7 “lifestyle” thing is fucked. I think it’s abuse with accessories, and I think agreeing to that sort of thing (contract be damned) is Quiet Suburban Stockholm Syndrome. I’d let a guy tie me up, but if suggested a collar he’d come home to find the locks changed and all his shit in the front lawn. On fire. (What do you think about humiliation now, baby? Cause the neighbors sure are getting a kick out of it.)

Anyway. Welcome to my blog and here is some more of my opinion-      

I am exactly the “ambitious, liberal arts graduate” that this article gently mocks, and all I want is a “nice, postfeminist boy.” My ideal husband is somewhere on the spectrum between Xander Harris and Phil Dunphy.  Love, respect, some ability to kick ass buried down in there somewhere, and a sense of humor. That’s the dream.

I’m also an erotica author, and you couldn’t tell by what I personally write, but I have my thumb pretty well on the pulse of what sells.

It’s this.

It’s the female character who swears just enough to make you think that she’s spunky, but doesn’t do enough to make you believe that she’s capable, submitting to the tall dark and handsome dominant man who swashbuckles his way into her life, sometimes actually, genuinely holding his huge (phallic) sword out at her. Or worse, brooding in his Volvo at her.

And it bothers me.

Because, as is the point of Ms. Roiphe’s thorough and respectful, though not terribly insightful, article: women are more powerful than men these days. They make up 60% of college graduates, four in ten working women out earn their husbands, the majority of women under 30 are having and supporting their own children, and they still have this fantasy of a dominant man.

And just to rub salt in the wound there are articles like this one speculating on whether that desire is, in some primal way, ingrained in the mysterious female psyche, or if submission is a relaxing past time for someone with too much control in the “real world”, or that assuming that it’s an outlet for the guilt, shame and unworthiness that must be ingrained in women is too 19^th century an explanation for why this phenomena persists.

And it’s just frustrating on so many levels.

One: Of Course Guilt, Shame and Unworthiness Persist, dumbass.

Most of the magazines at the grocery store are just long lists of how women do everything from eating to dressing to having sex wrong anyway. There is an attack on women’s healthcare happening all over our country because men want to punish women for having sex. Every horror movie has its dead slut in the first hour. And that’s not even counting all the little things that get so ingrained that you forget about them.

One of the best examples I’ve found explaining this idea is actually a cracked article, but it’s still a depressing and hysterical illustration.

5 Ways Modern Men Are Trained to Hate Women

And look at the way the media forces us to look at ourselves. Look at Michelle Bachman and Sarah Palin and then try to pretend we live in a post-feminist society. Their media coverage was a constant barrage and they aren’t politicians, they’re clowns. Dolls, more accurately. Pretty enough women with pretty enough clothes, talking for the cameras.

Media coverage on Hillary Clinton usually mocked her looks or harrased her for being a ballbuster.

You can be a politician ladies, but only if you’re entertaining. If you’re a legitimate threat? Congratulations- You’re a Bitch.

Two: The Whole Idea of a Sudden Interest in Female Submission Assumes Male Dominance is a Default Position that Society is In Danger of Losing.

Just… no. The logic string that brings you to this conclusion starts in the middle of an episode of Madmen. There is nothing inherently dominant about men. Upper body strength stopped being impressive when the Industrial Revolution really started to catch on.

There is no reason to want to hold onto an old fashioned idea that imprisons men as much as it imprisons women. And, lets be totally honest- an assumption that men will be competent, capable and dominant, makes them arrogant assholes that are utterly fucking useless. If you read that Cracked article? The douche who thinks he is owed a woman, does not learn how to treat one. The jackass who thinks a financial degree entitles him to a six figure salary, can’t even balance his checkbook without calling his mother.

And I’m not exaggerating. I talk to educated young men all day, who have honest to god hissy-fits at me because they didn’t get the awesome suit and tie job they thought was waiting for them.

Yeah, brah, and I went to the College of Phone in South Cubicle and majored in Getting Screamed At By Filthy Hicks Like You.

No. I’m much better educated than you, (I have more debt than you and work harder than you in heels bigger than your dick) and I pay my damn bills while I work for the dream job. Go get your nose wiped and your shoes tied and then try the big boy thing again.

Three: Good BDSM is Not About Kink Or Spanking or Violence, Its About Trust.

The arrogant bastard heroes who the examples of this- who are supposed to be so intoxicatingly sexy because their shoulders are so broad and their jaws are so square- are assholes.

Edward Cullen is an abusive asshole, constantly threatening Bella, and it’s her damn fault for smelling so good to start with. That’s a Lifetime movie waiting to happen.

It's absolutely not something you put up with because he needs to get his Alpha on and can't find it in anyway but taking it out on you. It's not something you endure for him.

You don’t want to try a BDSM game with a jackass.

You know who you want to try it with?

The skinny, nice, post feminist boy who loves you and can be reliably counted on to spank you and still remember to do the dishes in the morning. 

What No One Tells You About Writing: The Agony AFTER Submission

A lot of the other authors on Facebook have blogged about the steps of the writing and submission process, and I usually don't bother, simply because I continually get the impression that the way I approach story writing is idiosyncratic and just not altogether helpful for people who could find better instructions from 

Carolyn Rosewood 

Or 

DF Krieger

I have seen great tips and suggestions for creating characters, creating a plot, writing a blurb, writing a synopsis and choosing a publisher, but I have noticed that there is a step of the process that is being looked over. 

What do you do AFTER you submit?

... Nothing right? Surely submission is the last step, the step that all the sweat, blood and tears were leading up to?

No. Prepare for more sweat and tears and probably a little blood. Because now: YOU WAIT!

Depending on the publisher you now have to spend 2 weeks to 6 months waiting to hear back on whether or not the manuscript you've been slaving over for all this time will meet their standards. 

So what do you do during that time?

1. Try Not To Think About It. 

Hahah. Just kidding. That's not going to happen. Prepare to spend the next few months randomly becoming convinced you misspelled the name of the publisher in your Query Letter in the middle of doing the dishes or digging out change for the bus. And there's no point in going to check because it's too late now. 

Then go check your email.

2. Read Something Else

Pick a book and spend some time remembering when words were already set down onto pages that you flipped instead of scrolled. Question a character's motivation and realize that it is not your problem if it's believable or not. Finish a terrible book and pat yourself on the back for being more talented than the wretch that got this contract. Finish a wonderful book and burst into tears that you'll never be that good. 

Then go check your email.

3. Go Out With Your Friends. They've Missed You.

Then realize that you have nothing non-book related to talk about because this submission has been sucking out your soul for weeks on end. Sit and listen to them talk about their actual lives, zone out, convince yourself that the main character is just a rip-off of something that you read recently.

Then go check your email.

4. Go to a Movie

Fantasize about the day that you get your own movie contract. Cast it in your head. Realize that you have missed the climax of the movie while daydreaming and now have no idea what's happening, and you now have an urge to check your email, but have to wait until the movie lets out. 

Go to the bathroom and check your email on your phone.

5. Get some sleep

See point one. 

Then go check your email.

6. Write the Next One

This really is the only good way of avoiding the mania caused by Post-Submission Trauma.  Do those other things first, recharge from the last book, and then take the computer back out and start clacking away on the new one. 

Try not to be distracted by checking your email.

More than Six Sentence Sunday- Better Late Than Never

(Luke has just kissed Matilda for the first time. She panicked and left and he is sitting on the couch, trying to figure out what just happened when his roommate enters unexpectedly from the bathroom)

"I thought she wanted me to," Luke said. "She's hot she's cold, she's clinging to me after the whole blind date thing went sour, then she's ignoring me at rehearsal, she gives me the signal and she's upset when I make a move."

"Women," Carver shrugs in commiseration and he sits down next to Luke's left over Chinese food and takes a bite from a half eaten egg roll.

"Carver, you do know that Matilda used to be a guy right?"

"Yeah?" Carver's tone of mild interest was one of the stronger emotions Luke had ever seen from him. Carver seemed to ruminate on that information for a few moments before touching his adams apple. "Oh sure. She's got," he nodded and returned to the cooling Chinese food. "And you like her?"

"Do you think that's weird?"

Carver looked up at the ceiling, chewing industriously. "Little weird,' he finally commented before adding, "I like her," with another shrug.

That was a ringing endorsement from Carver.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing. I mean I don't know how I'd tell my family or explain it at school or even to the actors, but I don't know, man, I've known her for years and years and all of a sudden I can't stop thinking about her."

"Maybe she knows that."

"Well, I did just kiss her."

"Maybe she knows you don't want anyone to know."

"I didn't say-"

"Just did," Carter cut him off. "Betchya gotta have great big lady balls to turn into a chic. Maybe you're not good enough for her."

Luke stared at him as he stood, gathered up Luke's remaining Chinese food cartons and walked to his room, closing the door.

Well. He'd just scared his best friend, been shamed by his roommate, and lost the rest of his dinner. It couldn't get that much worse. He stood flush with determination but no plan, and his eyes fall on the end table.

"Yes!" He crowed.

"Find her cell phone?" Carver called.

Damn. He was starting to get creepy.

"Yeah. I did."

"Go forth, young Skywalker," Carver called back.

"Save me an egg roll!" Luke commanded as he grabbed his umbrella and strode for the door.

"No!" Carver answered. Luke heaved a sigh, and walked out the door.

More Titles Monday

Round Two Of Title Picking

Gentle into that Good Night (still like this one)

Is Fallen, Is Fallen (quote from Revelations)

In Various States of Disgrace (description from the book)

Help Me Pick A Title Sunday!

Hello, People of the Internet!

I am in the home stretch of my novel, and should be ready to send everything out the first week of April, and here is my problem. I've changed the working title at least once a week since I started.

So who wants to help?

Short Summary:

On the night the world ends, The Angel Tadiel and his lover, the Fallen Angel Dagon, are in their apartment together, watching the ten o’clock news do its best impression of the Book of Revelations and waiting for their Chinese food to arrive. It’s a quiet, dull, human way to spend their last night, but at least they are together. Eternity has been long and they can’t fight Heaven and Hell. They have a plan to avoid another war where they have to fight against each other, but it is the ultimate Hail-Mary pass and they both know it.

As the lovers move into the bedroom the story moves back in time, flitting through their relationship in a series of vignettes starting at their innocent friendship back when the Earth was new, and Dagon had not yet Fallen, through their sparking passion, their doubts about their leaders, and their millennia long mission to gather souls to fight for Heaven and Hell in the eventual apocalypse.

So: Titles with their pros and cons

Soul Mates

Pros- short and plot-inclusive enough to be pity

Cons- A little generic

Love in the Time of the Apocalypse

Pro- catchy and plot inclusive

Cons- obvious and possibly unjustified rip on "Love in the Time of Cholera"

Until the End of Time

Pros: Plot inclusive

Cons: Dreary

Gentle into that Good Night

Pros: It's different and pretty

Cons: It hit the plot in a very small way that doesn't quiet set in until like 2/3rds in. It's also dreary and a line from a famous Dylan Thomas poem.

Let me know what you think or if you have another suggestion!

Six Sentence Sunday: Here on Earth

“I cannot leave the girl behind.”

“Yes,” Dagon agrees. “She will wield a sword in Heaven and the armies of Hell with quail at her feet,” he chuckles morosely.

“I’ll watch over her cell, perhaps give her some comfort.”

Dagon kissed Tadiel again. “You’re too good for Heaven, sweet. Go watch over the lamb.”

“The next time we are on earth together, come for me. Please Dagon?”

Six Sentence Sunday: Honey Honey

          Tadiel gives him an appraising look. Dagon presses the Angel’s finger to his lips and darts his tongue out to lick at the honey on the pad of Tadiel’s finger teasingly.

            Tadiel’s smile goes a little stiff. Curious, Dagon flattens his tongue and lets his tongue slide further down. The smile fades from Tadiel’s face like mist burning under sunlight. Dagon steps closer to him, shoots a glance back down the street then sets the tip of Tadiel’s finger on this tongue and closes his mouth around it.

            Tadiel’s whimper goes straight Dagon’s his cock and he follows by the mouth when Tadiel takes a shaky step backward, falling against the brick wall behind them, like his knees can’t support him anymore.

SIx Sentence Sunday: The Promise of Silk

Alaric’s cock surged in his hand. A moan broke from his lips as a jet of milky white come shot out of him onto the statue’s feet, then another onto the table underneath him, and finally a last, weaker pulse, dribbling down his shaft.

“Well done,” the Red Lady sighed to Alaric as his knees loosened underneath him and he fell forward, grabbing onto the table for support as shook and gasped and tried to catch his breath.

There was a rustle of silk moving behind him.

“Put your clothes back on. You’ll come back tomorrow at sunset.”

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