Monday, July 28, 2008

Monday's are perfect for Wicked Poems

Another poem that i'm going to just hack up like a furball... let's see what lands on the monitor, shall we? LOL!

Divinely Falling

Wicked smile and clever hands
you touch me
somewhere {there} deep inside,
those delicious dark places
where my true self hides.

A lovely package
of sweetly kissed control
that batters my barriers
as I struggle to resist
the unresistable you.

Letting you wrap your Self
inside and out of Me
I succumb with a sigh
then a scream of delight...
being bad has never
felt so good.

ahhhhh.... okay, that is not so great, but its all i have for today. i may need to rework this one over for awhile... no pun intended, LOL!

Friday, July 25, 2008

On Being Naive

A bit of babble and stepping off the "about writing" posts this morning. Though really, it's all interelated isn't it? How and what we write is influenced by our perceptions and experiences and fantasies. The psycholigical dance of the human beast is an intrical part of any tale.

I can be a ridiculously self-centered little diva at times. Not in arrogance (I don't think) but in naivity and the foolish projection that what i know to be true must be true for everyone (if only they would stop and think about it for a second). Oh, I'm not talking grand truths, or religious truths or even political truths. To each his own on that. I'm talking about being open-minded and nonjudgmental about personal truths. I'm talking about being aware of the fascinating diversity of the human mind and accepting that preferences in aspects of living life are as varied as stars in the sky.

Until recently, the past year or so, I bounced through life like a colorful beachball, bouncing off people, objects, ideas, circumstances - just merrily careening all over the place with a silly honesty and innocent belief that i could say whatever i was thinking and the people i bounced off of would just accept me or ignore me. I never considered that there were people who would take personal offense to the things I talk about and enjoyed. Or worse, that there were people who would try to manipulate me purely for their own entertainment. Uh, yeah - talk about naive. ~big old eyeroll at myself~

So I've learned to keep my mouth shut. Oh, not all the time. Obviously, I'm babbling here. But I'm alot more cautious than i used to be. Which is actually a good thing. Passionately talking about reading BDSM stories at a party - so not a good idea. (I now realize the riveted looks I got were not fascination but more like they were watching a train wreck.) Talking about paranormal erotic kink with writers - perfectly safe.
Ummm - i think it's called learning discretion on my part.
I still have a bit of the wild child in me... i guess it's a part of my personality or something because I simply CANNOT just behave. But I've learned to create appropriate places and groups with which to share the various parts of who I am. And to keep RL separate from my wilder ways.

And yeah, i used to actually babble quite openly about the need to toss away sexual preconceptions with veritable strangers, among other controversial topics. I thought the way to break down taboos was to discuss them openly. Silly wench.
Maybe naive wasn't the right word for me... maybe stoopid sums it up better.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Wicked Hot! Why Yes She Is.

Wahoo! My pal Charli's latest is out and I'll be down at Borders demanding my copy as soon as i get off work.
Her latest book "Wicked Hot" sounds simply sizzlin.
Here's a little preview i snatched off her blog:
Two immortal warriors attending to her every need…
The struggle between good and evil is about to get…Wicked Hot

Edana is a succubus—a breathtakingly beautiful demon who offers men their most decadent fantasy in exchange for their souls. No one can get close to her without being destroyed..until she meets Eli and Dal. Both men are Nephilim, immortal warriors who bind and banish demons. Edana’s mission is to arouse their lust and steal their souls before they can destroy her—she never expects to fall in love. Shared by two virile lovers and lost in a world of sensation, Edana begins to fall for one of the warriors, jeopardizing her mission. Only he has power to save her, but first she must give him power over her heart—and her destiny…
So get yourself down to the nearest bookstore this week, do yourself a favor and get a copy. I haven't even read it and i know you'll thank me.
Cuz you know... demons are the new black.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Dark poem#1835 :D

Here's an old one from last year.
Really dark. REALLY really DARK.
I can get kinda pissy sometimes.... (pardon the use of your word Pissy-darlin')

In the Dark of Your Night

Foul beast
that slinks in shadows,
hyena grin

believing you have them all fooled.

Death is your closest companion
a bosum buddy
to warm you in the lonely nights
when you accept

that you have nothing left to lose.

The blackness within multiplies
in beautiful decay
and there is a joy
in the tainting

of everything you touch.

Lashing out
at the inevitable,
the inner rage simmering as
your forced smile
bleeds to grimace
and destruction is

all you have left to share.

(the poem wraps up with sticking my tongue out. It's a performance piece.)


So, I had Writers Group again yesterday. I'm always a nervous wreck going to the meetings and end up having such a fabulous time there. I mean, these are some seriously talented writers in the group.
And then there's me.
With my erotic paranormal story.
I keep waiting and waiting for them to out me as a fake.
Instead, the entire group has been beyond supportive and laughs out loud at all the right parts, squirms in their chairs at the sexy parts, and are really identifying with my characters.

This week I brought a chapter that didn't have any sex in it (gasp) and dealt with some messy emotional scenes and confrontations. Not easy to write and I had edited the shit out of it AGAIN before going to the meeting. I just knew this was going to be the meeting where they all redlined me to hell and back.
And they loved it. Said I did emotional scenes very well.
I think i may have actually blushed at the praise.
Praise from this group of professional, talented writers is high praise indeed. So like, maybe I might not suck so much after all....

Anyone else out there feel terrified every time you lay forth your words to others?

Final Note: Two releases this week - Roscoe James (birthday boy) has White Swan coming out today and Melody Lane has Rock Me coming out Wed. at Ellora's Cave.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Delivering on Promises

I recently read a book (ebook) that sniffed out good from the description and appeared to be just what my mood called for. A little bondage, a capture scenario (waggling eyebrows), a super big bad alpha male - pretty typical D/s formula, but it sounded yummy for a late night erotic snack. The book promised to be an exciting battle of wills with two strong characters and the naughty edginess of a woman being captured and subdued. (No, we're not talking rape - you won't find those type stories in erotic romances, because while some women may have rape fantasies - they are just that, fantasies, and the reality of rape is hideously ugly. And I don't say that blithely.)

The story started out great. The strong female character with some smarts upstairs being "caught" by the hunky guy used to getting his own way. I gobbled up the words until all of a sudden the story took a bizarre turn and suddenly the big, strong alpha male was fighting to hold back tears, conflicted over a past trauma and the female character devolved into a total putz-ass. Ugh.

I have nothing against male characters (or men in real life) exhibiting emotions or even having an emotional breakdown scene. Hello, we're all human. Some heartrending emotion can add a layer of bittersweetness and conflict to a book, making it even more memorable. I've boo-hoo'd my way through more than one story before and thoroughly enjoyed the vicarious trauma. (Errr...sounds really icky when put that way. O.o)
And this is a big however - I'm no more enticed by sniffling male characters than I am by sniffling female characters. Pages and pages and PAGES of tears make me want to bang my head against the nearest hard surface. I stuck it out with the story though, because I'm a dumbass... okay, because I kept thinking that the promised storyline HAD to appear.
It had to.
When I reached the last page and it HADN'T, boy-howdy was I irritated.
Damn it. I was in the mood for some naughty bondage and characters pitting themselves against each other with lots of raunchy, hot sex until they both realized they were in lurv and then had even more raunchy, hot sex. (Guys, stop rolling your eyes - we women love our HEAs.)

The point of this diatribe? Just to point out that writers need to be realistic in their promises to readers. Don't write up the description of your story to snag someone with a taste for five-alarm chili only to serve up jello. Yeah the chili description might sell more books in the short term but if ya plan on ever writing another book and don't want to be on someone's "I'll never buy her/his stuff again" list - then don't make promises you can't/don't deliver. There's enough diversity in taste that your story will appeal (if well written). No one eats five-alarm chili everyday after all.

Monday, July 14, 2008

It's the Poetry Thing


You slid quietly
into my life
the wisp of a forbidden dream,
wrapping your arms around me
and refusing to be denied.

Ignoring every protest
crossing tattered barriers
that i tiptoe behind,
you look deeper
seeing further than most.

Flight or fight
you caught me
dancing between,
just long enough
to surround me

Spreading arms
wide open
in acceptance,
you feed me hope
and i feel myself falling

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Flashing with Lisa Andel

I'm heading over to the SEx blog to flash Lisa for awhile.
If anyone cares to join in check it out at
come on and play or read or bring virtual drinks. Nekkid dancing also encouraged.

Monday, July 7, 2008

A Short

Sorry for delay in posting. I've been working on the book and doing research and not writing things ready to post here. I have been composing a post in my head about expectations from authors and how they can make subtle promises that piss the fuck outa the reader when they're not delivered. I'll get to that about mid week.

In the interim i reworked a short...very short story this morning. This was originally a piece of flash fiction but really required more than a 100 words to flesh it out. Since I'm one hellava wordy bitch these type of minimalist exercises are very good for me.

Tell me whatcha think, 'kay?
Oh and I'll be showing up here more and less in other places. I'm about to purchase my website, set that up, blah blah blah. Lots to do, so little time. Smooches to all of you that hang in there and keep popping by. xxx Kota

Hushabye baby

From the corner of her eye she could see the shadow of black branches lurking outside the window, scratching, begging to get in. What would to feel like to fall into the rough embrace of dead bark and broken limbs?

A small black spider scurried across the ceiling.

The chuffing noise and never-ending beeps that had so annoyed her initially now brought strange comfort. It was something to fill the emptiness. Days, weeks, months…time ate itself endlessly. She was reduced to nothing but repetition. She was nothing, but a pair of watery eyes fixed on the dusty, cracked ceiling and the edgy flirting of branches. She was nothing, but a pair of ears straining against the white hum of machinery and delicious scratching.

“I’m sorry darling, you just don’t know how to quit.” A voice rumbled in her ear, “I can’t live like this anymore. This is no life at all for me.”

Then, silence.

Except the sound of heavy breathing.... growing fainter and fainter.
She was falling.

Into the brittle embrace of those broken black branches.