From Part 1 of Bottoms in Love: Tails
(Carter is trying to fight through his disappointment that the dime didn't come up heads.)
The firm tone of her husband caused Lindsey to straighten and sit up. "Ooh, are we starting?"
"I guess."
"You can't guess, if we're starting."
Carter glanced down at Lindsey's knees lightly rubbing together. "Lift up your skirt."
Monday, December 19, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Six Sentence Sunday: Bottoms in Love
From Part Two: Heads
The coin comes up Carter's way and Lindsey is in control:
Carter stewed beside her. Lindsey sat primly with her hands on the steering wheel. "Kiss my cheek and we'll be off then."
After an uncomfortable glance at the still grinning team of valets, Carter, rather sulkily, leaned toward his wife and kissed her cheek.
"What's the matter? Not having fun?"
The coin comes up Carter's way and Lindsey is in control:
Carter stewed beside her. Lindsey sat primly with her hands on the steering wheel. "Kiss my cheek and we'll be off then."
After an uncomfortable glance at the still grinning team of valets, Carter, rather sulkily, leaned toward his wife and kissed her cheek.
"What's the matter? Not having fun?"
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Bottoms in Love
My novelette came out with OC Press! Here’s the synopsis:
Carter and Lindsey, a married couple, are both submissive lovers. On the rare occasions they get to indulge in power exchange, the one who is forced to rule and the one who gets to obey is determined by the flip of a coin.
It features spankings and married sex, a great combination. And it’s available for 99 cents!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Construction of a Story
I thought I'd give a quick story of how my latest story, "Afternoon Ride," came to be. I'll keep it self-contained but also include a link to it if anyone would like to read the whole thing, I'd love to have you read it.
So I guess more successful writers are always being hounded about where their ideas come from. No one's ever asked me that, but I do often try to trace the origin of a story and sometimes find I can't. I think that's just because I have enough bad ideas I discard that by the time I've settled on an idea I like I've forgotten where it came from. This story, I do remember, came to mind when I was following a biker, in my car, and he gave that biker greeting of cutting his left hand through the air to a biker coming the other way, who gave the same greeting in return.
I've never ridden a motorcycle, and I realize, especially when they're going fast, they're fairly easy to balance, but you could hit a pothole or get a blowout, you're better off holding on with both hands. It struck me that was beyond friendly to put your safety on the line to pass this greeting along to a complete stranger, who does the same for you. Kind of cool. The next thought to pop into my mind was a story an old friend told me about fifteen years ago. He was riding a Honda and gave a greeting like that to a biker on a Harley and the guy on the Harley gave him the finger. He explained how there is a friction between riders of Harleys and riders of Hondas.
To this point, I was just thinking but I got interested enough to start to wonder about how I could turn these thoughts into a story. So I took the Harley guy from my friend's story and reformed him from his ways of being kind of an asshole and had him greet a "crotch-rocket" Honda rider coming the other way. He is rewarded for this when the other rider greets him back, not by waving her hand but by opening her vest and flashing him a boob.
Then, of course, he follows her! From there I just tried to observe and let my characters surprise me. I'll leave the link to the complete story at Every Night Erotica, if anyone would like to read it.
http://www.everynighterotica.com/afternoon-ride-gregory-allen/
So I guess more successful writers are always being hounded about where their ideas come from. No one's ever asked me that, but I do often try to trace the origin of a story and sometimes find I can't. I think that's just because I have enough bad ideas I discard that by the time I've settled on an idea I like I've forgotten where it came from. This story, I do remember, came to mind when I was following a biker, in my car, and he gave that biker greeting of cutting his left hand through the air to a biker coming the other way, who gave the same greeting in return.
I've never ridden a motorcycle, and I realize, especially when they're going fast, they're fairly easy to balance, but you could hit a pothole or get a blowout, you're better off holding on with both hands. It struck me that was beyond friendly to put your safety on the line to pass this greeting along to a complete stranger, who does the same for you. Kind of cool. The next thought to pop into my mind was a story an old friend told me about fifteen years ago. He was riding a Honda and gave a greeting like that to a biker on a Harley and the guy on the Harley gave him the finger. He explained how there is a friction between riders of Harleys and riders of Hondas.
To this point, I was just thinking but I got interested enough to start to wonder about how I could turn these thoughts into a story. So I took the Harley guy from my friend's story and reformed him from his ways of being kind of an asshole and had him greet a "crotch-rocket" Honda rider coming the other way. He is rewarded for this when the other rider greets him back, not by waving her hand but by opening her vest and flashing him a boob.
Then, of course, he follows her! From there I just tried to observe and let my characters surprise me. I'll leave the link to the complete story at Every Night Erotica, if anyone would like to read it.
http://www.everynighterotica.com/afternoon-ride-gregory-allen/
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Excerpt from Protege Mistress
My new novel, Protege Mistress, is now available, both in print and as an ebook, through Pink Flamingo. Kevin owes Diane a foot massage after losing a card game. They arrive at her apartment.
Kevin ventured across the living room and looked into the kitchen. A bottle of wine gurgled as Diane filled her glass. She passed him on her way by. "Grab a beer from the fridge."
A few bottles were scattered near the back. Kevin twisted the top off one and sipped. He stepped into the living room and stopped short. "What is this?"
Diane gave a slight shrug and smiled. "I'm a stickler about coasters."
"Okay, but why..."
"You're paying up on the bet, aren't you?"
"Of course."
"Well then."
Diane sat with her glass of wine on the wooden armrest of the couch, coaster underneath. The other coaster sat on the carpet just past her feet.
"So you want me to sit on the floor?"
"Not sit." Diane lifted her glass and sipped. With her legs crossed, one socked foot swung above the floor.
Kevin tried to lighten the mood with a sheepish grin, but Diane countered with a confident smile. Kevin wanted to kneel in front of her, to massage her feet, and he knew she knew. He moved forward, leaned his knees into the floor, and sat back on his heels. He took another quick sip of his beer then set it on the coaster as Diane stretched her foot toward him. Kevin took it in his hands.
"Oh yes," Diane said as soon as he began massaging, then giggled lightly. Kevin focused on his task, keeping his eyes down. He squeezed one hand around the top part of her foot and applied circular pressure underneath with his knuckles. He attempted to bring technical proficiency to performing this task to alleviate the straining in the tightening crotch of his jeans. He needed to take his mind off what he was doing before his discomfort got worse, not to mention obvious.
Diane seemed intent on not letting him. "You look so cute down there," she said. "Fitting, don't you think? You lost the bet and now have to kneel before you victor."
This excerpt continues at my publisher's website. I'll leave a link for anyone interested. Thanks!
http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Protege-Mistress.html
Kevin ventured across the living room and looked into the kitchen. A bottle of wine gurgled as Diane filled her glass. She passed him on her way by. "Grab a beer from the fridge."
A few bottles were scattered near the back. Kevin twisted the top off one and sipped. He stepped into the living room and stopped short. "What is this?"
Diane gave a slight shrug and smiled. "I'm a stickler about coasters."
"Okay, but why..."
"You're paying up on the bet, aren't you?"
"Of course."
"Well then."
Diane sat with her glass of wine on the wooden armrest of the couch, coaster underneath. The other coaster sat on the carpet just past her feet.
"So you want me to sit on the floor?"
"Not sit." Diane lifted her glass and sipped. With her legs crossed, one socked foot swung above the floor.
Kevin tried to lighten the mood with a sheepish grin, but Diane countered with a confident smile. Kevin wanted to kneel in front of her, to massage her feet, and he knew she knew. He moved forward, leaned his knees into the floor, and sat back on his heels. He took another quick sip of his beer then set it on the coaster as Diane stretched her foot toward him. Kevin took it in his hands.
"Oh yes," Diane said as soon as he began massaging, then giggled lightly. Kevin focused on his task, keeping his eyes down. He squeezed one hand around the top part of her foot and applied circular pressure underneath with his knuckles. He attempted to bring technical proficiency to performing this task to alleviate the straining in the tightening crotch of his jeans. He needed to take his mind off what he was doing before his discomfort got worse, not to mention obvious.
Diane seemed intent on not letting him. "You look so cute down there," she said. "Fitting, don't you think? You lost the bet and now have to kneel before you victor."
This excerpt continues at my publisher's website. I'll leave a link for anyone interested. Thanks!
http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Protege-Mistress.html
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Acting like you're writing
or writing like you’re acting.
Whenever I watch DVD commentaries, the directors are always gushing over the actors, but it’s kind of cool. The director will say, “There, look at that!” And he or she is talking about a lip curl I wouldn’t have even noticed. “I didn’t even have to tell him to do that. He was just there.”
The degree I’m “there” usually determines how good a writing session I’ll have. I know next to nothing about acting, but I’ve heard the phrase (actors probably consider it a cliché of their art) ‘acting is reacting.’ The same could be said of writing. I usually sit down with an idea of where I’m going, but if I’m not in that zone where I have that heightened awareness of my characters’ thoughts, the story stalls. Whatever is introduced, whether an action or a piece of dialogue, I have to feel everyone’s reaction to it. I’m struggling through a scene right now because I’ve introduced two new characters to a story, and I don’t know them yet. I was thinking I’d be okay, since my main characters would be pushing the action, but until I know these guys well enough to make their reactions believable, the whole scene is going to feel flat.
Often the best shows and movies have a talented ensemble. In fact, the directors in the commentaries will often point out how someone who I barely noticed in a scene gave a subtle gesture or delivery of a single line that really gave the scene its vitality. Sometimes those directors get a little overly artsy in those commentaries, I’ll give you that, but I do think those little moments have an almost subconscious effect on the viewer. With writing, we’re every actor in our play. We sit down and make one act, and make everyone else react until we’re done for the day. Kind of a heavy idea to have that level of control but no wonder, when things are clicking, writing is such a rush.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Should a title grab or illuminate?
My idea of a good title is probably different from what a publisher might consider a good title. A publisher is going to want to grab a reader’s attention and get them to pick the book up, or click on it in the case of an ebook. This is an important function of a title, but to me it’s secondary. The primary function of a title is to illuminate a central aspect of the story. A good title will hang in the back of a reader’s mind, and sneak up at some point to whap them.
The epitome of titles, in my mind, is from a book by William Styron called Sophie’s Choice. A title that certainly wouldn’t dissuade potential readers, but alone, isn’t exactly flashy enough to draw a crowd. Without giving too much away (slight spoiler alert), you begin this book about a woman, Sophie, loved by two men and you expect the title reflects her choosing between them. When you discover the actual source for the title in the story, you are profoundly whapped. If a title can make a reader slide the bookmark back in at a certain point, close the book, and simply stare at the title on the cover—as I did with that book—that’s a great title, no matter how many readers it attracts from the book’s place on a shelf.
My title theory was tested with my second story published at Every Night Erotica, “Hot and Cold.” As a stand-alone, I found this title rather bland. I didn’t imagine people would see “Hot and Cold” and feel enticed to read. The story was about a couple huddled under blankets on their porch. Some sardonic banter ignited their passions, and they braved the cold temperatures for sex. I thought the story had subtle back story. This was a couple with a lengthy history that made them close friends besides lovers. I imagined they struggled, at times, with feelings that the passion between them wasn’t as consistent as when they were first together. They love each other, but their sex life was hot and cold. So I stuck with the title because I thought it had the chance to expand this snippet of these characters’ lives into a larger whole. I doubt any reader would have felt whapped by it, but hopefully it helped illuminate that untold back story a little.
You might have the best reason in the world for titling a thousand-page novel, Dull and Boring, but chances are good a publisher won’t like it. A title is ideal if it has flash and substance. If it’s flashy but doesn’t function in tandem with the story, then all the word of mouth will be readers talking about this great book they read. “What was it called?” “I forget, something clever, though.”
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