Fun First.

 

 I'm in the middle of scheduling my fun for the year. Not just big fun like trips, but little fun, like visiting the library, having high tea with my friends, and at-home spa days. I am going to attempt to give myself something wonderful every month, if not every week.

What fun are you planning?

 

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Archetypes: The Sage.

Finally, we have reached the last Queen Archetype from the Mopop Queen Within exhibition! She is The Sage, and what a wonderful woman to finish with.

 She's the thinker, planner, risk-taker, and philosopher in all of us. She has wisdom, intelligence, and self-reflection and uses these powers to understand the world.

Her biggest fears are being ignored or tricked by others. This can lead to her weakness, which is the seductive lure of never-ending research.

The Sage cares about the environment and wants sustainable fabrics. Her clothing invites inquiry.

 What do you wear to invoke The Sage? What makes you feel wise and able to take risks?

10 Awesome People: The Lunch Project with Mel Brooks

I sent my second letter in my Lunch Project to the awesome Mel Brooks!

Who wouldn't want to have a meal with this ground breaking comic? He references such crimes as the Inquisition, the Holocaust, race relations, and fraud with grace, flair, and incredible comedic timing.

I re-watched Blazing Saddles last month - my first time since I was in my early twenties. What a brilliant satire! And of course, he pokes fun at movies that take themselves too seriously.

Wish me good luck! I hope he accepts my invitation.

Random, awesome pictures.

I was browsing the Wikipedia Commons website and found too many cool things.

The library at the Vienna University of Technology. I've been there. Quite frankly, those owls are the most awesome library decoration, ever.

Lake Bondus in Norway. Can't you just see the dragons lurking in the mist?

Keeping with the bad-ass owl theme.

Peter Paul Rubens and his first wife, Isabella Brandt. I think she looks like a trouble maker!

A little something for your Monday

Some singing and dancing Meryl Streep!

And if the video doesn't work, here's the link.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juTRRspWUqM

Fooling Around with Light

My dear friend Jamie and I went to a cocktail party held at a good friend's house. We went outside to enjoy the cooler night air and there, we found the security light by the garage door.

Getting started

A few shadow puppets later, we decided to play with the pretty pattern on Jamie's shawl.

You can (sort of) see the paisley pattern.

A better look.

Ta-dah!

Best of...Tips and Tricks

Continuing the four year anniversary of my blog with a post from November 10, 2009. :)

Tips and tricks.

Let's be honest. We all experience insecurity and fear about our writing. Everything from "It sucks", to "I suck" and everything in between.

It can paralyze an artist in a quagmire of self-loathing misery. Sometimes, though, it's possible to make a few steps out this nasty, leech-ridden, malaria-infested swamp

I call upon my 'tricks' to make it easier to find a shortcut. Here's few of my favorite tricks in no particular order, in a handy numbered list for quick reference. :)

My local library

Bribery. Yummy, yummy bribery.

1. Change writing locations. I'll write in the library, different rooms in the house (I'm writing this now on my second floor landing), a coffee-shop (Starbucks is a cliche for a reason, folks!), or even just go outside. Something about a different visual geography can shake me out of a funk.
2. Bribery is both functional and traditional. One of my critique partners says, "I don't need a lollipop every time I finish five pages." Well, I'm not nearly that mature. I love to bribe myself with hot baths, visits with my friends, a good movie - you name it. I try to avoid bribing myself with food, though. That way lies getting stuck in the different quagmire of body image issues.
3. Ask for help. Somewhere out there, someone believes in you. Give them a call or an email. Say, "I'm going in. Cover me!" For some reason, this works really really well.
4. Set a timer. When I'm exhausted and nearly falling out of my chair, I can fulfill my promises to myself by setting a timer for however long, and then letting myself rest.
5. Read your work aloud. Something about hearing the story  gets me ready to rock and roll.
6. Crank your tunes. Turn that knob to eleven. Let the music drown out all those nasty, self-defeating voices.

What are some of your favorite tricks?

My very weird brain.

There is a downside to growing up in a family of clowns. Today was a great example.

This afternoon, I treated myself to lunch at the yummy Davis Street Tavern. To my left, a gentleman was interviewing a lady for some kind of tech/design position.

(first off, can I just say "Euuuwww" to interviewing someone while they are trying to eat? In public, where strangers can listen in? Isn't the lunch portion of an interview supposed to be a break so the interviewee can relax and let their personality emerge?? Sheesh)

The gentleman (who looked like he was about to mow the lawn - I mean, come on, dude! She's interviewing you, too) said something that went a little something like this:

"You are in a meeting with a client. You've done your research and come up with what you think is the best proposal. I come to the meeting and I completely disagree with you. My proposal is the exact opposite of yours. What do you do?"

I had to clap my hand over my mouth because I wanted to answer that question for her. And I wanted to say, "Well, naturally you stand up and scream:

'WRONG! YOU ARE WRONG, WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING???'"



Lord, I crack myself up.

Character Creation, part two

(Previous post here)

Now you have have some (more or less) randomly generated numbers. You are ready to start building your character's basic attributes.

More or less random numbers

Get another piece of paper and right down these  six TLAs:

Weird three letter acronyms

STR  (Strenght) This denotes how much your character can carry and (obviously) how much physical strength they have.

DEX (Dexterity) refers to reflexes, balance, and flexibility. A Cirque du Soliel performer would have a DEX of 18 (the highest number you can get). An average person would be around 9.

CON (Constitution) tells you how much stamina this imaginary person has. It includes their ability to recover from stress or injury.

INT (Intelligence) is a measure of learning and reasoning skill. An example of intelligence in action is how quickly this character learns languages.

WIS (Wisdom) is different from intelligence in that it denotes a person's willpower, awareness, common sense, and intuition.

CHA (Charisma) refers to the ability to lead, their personality, appearance, and skill at diplomacy.


Then place those random numbers randomly on your characteristics.

This character is moderately strong, pretty flexible, smart enough to get into trouble, and likes to lead.

For a person with this kind of dexterity, I would most likely make them a cat-burglar in training, or perhaps a business owner who likes to tumble in their free time.

See how you can get a wide variety of ideas from six simple attributes?

Roll some dice and have some fun! That's why we write, after all. :)

YES!

Dracula's Secret, the first book in the Blood Wings series, is available for pre-order again!

It will be released July 19th, 2012.

I guess it wasn't delayed all that long!

I can't stop dancing!

Goofy Moment.

The Charming Man finally found a hat that fits!

Working hard on Book Three

Yes. This does count as working.

The best writing advice I've gotten

I've been fortunate enough to receive some brilliant advice from a wide variety of sources. I hope to explore some of these A-ha! moments in the upcoming days.

The most important words I have are:

DARE TO BE AVERAGE!

I found this in (where else?) Feeling Good by David Burns

.

Most people write (or want to write) are perfectionists. If we don't write perfectly, then we are failures. If we don't sell a million copies, we are failures. 

You might have noticed that this doesn't lead to happy writing.What the heck? What have you got to lose? Perfectionism doesn't work, so why not try something new? You might feel awkward at first, but the liberation will stun you.

To quote:

For any activity, instead of aiming for 100 percent, aim for 80 percent, 60 percent, or 40 percent. then see how much you enjoy the activity and how productive you become. Dare to aim at being average! It takes courage, but you may amaze yourself! (p. 356)

By taking off the pressure to a staggering super genius, you and I can write with our own clear voice. Ideas become fun, instead of sources of anxiety. Mistakes become a game, not the end of the world.

Try it for a day, or even a week. Tell me what happens when you dare to be average! Do you feel less anxious, more productive, or did you have to face the fears that fueled perfectionism? 

Mating rituals.

I love the modern ritual of meeting people for coffee. It's the perfect way to test the waters, to see if you and another person are at least on the same page for relationship interests. As romance writers, we often throw our hero and heroine together under really crazy circumstances. I always like the, "If you want to live, come with me!" sort of introductions in books. Gets the chemistry going in a big way.

But there has to be a way to write the coffee date to be just as wild, crazy, and risky as the high speed run in a growly muscle car.

I sense a writing exercise! If you  write a coffee date that feels high flying, I'll do it, too.

Oh, YUM.

Today, The Flaming Chef and I wandered downtown Portland before settling in to write. Quite by impulse, we stopped by Verdun Fine Chocolate & Gifts.

The sweets here were AMAZING. Since I cannot share smell nor taste here on the Web, I can only share my pictures.

This is their drinking chocolate. Unlike other drinking chocolates I have experienced, this is super rich and thick, nearly syrupy, with lovely butter and vanilla undertones. Incredibly fragrant, and highly satisfying. I licked my lips for half an hour after drinking it.

Their classy and stylish displays do not do justice to their smooth, exotic confections.

The Flaming Chef enjoying his drinking chocolate. We bought some of their sweets to take home to our husbands. The Charming Man was thrilled with his treat!

The Houdroge Family owns Verdun Chocolates. Can we talk about classy and talented folks? They were incredibly nice.


I can't recommend this place enough!

Out and about some more!

Cool things can happen even when you don't seek them out. For example, the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile made an appearance today!

Surround yourself with beauty.

I think a lot of writers have this tedious self discipline and denial attitude towards their writing. That you have to get up at 3 am or force yourself to work in order to actually finish the book.

As an eternal contrarian, I think writing is self care. I do it because it makes me feel wonderful, and therefore, I want to do it a lot. And denial breeds resentment, not joy.

So in practicing what I preach, I indulged myself in some personal beauty.

First, I got a gorgeous henna this past weekend. Sorry for the view of the sink, but that's where the light was good. :) Isn't this a beauty??

Then yesterday, I painted over a semi-circular window in our house. This window faces south and it can get quite bright in that room. I took down the fabric I'd stapled there years ago, and came up with this little confection.

Use asbestos gloves with this one!

Mike is as turned on as I am. He gasps and with careful hands, piles my hair on top of my head so he can see my lips work him. The feel of his fingers on my scalp sends jolts down my nipples and makes me moan around his flesh.

Todd’s balls slap my lower lips as he works in and out of me. He clenches my hips hard once, then spanks my upturned ass. Surprised, I squeal and buck. The men block my motions, but not my low moan of arousal.

“I see you picked up some new tricks,” Mike murmurs in my ear and tightens his hand in my hair.

Both ends sting. In a really good, dog howling, down and dirty, let’s-get-nasty kind of way. Excitement pools in my belly at the restriction. Todd’s hand falls again and again. I can hear Todd alternately swearing and muttering something about making me not able to sit for three days. Juices surge down my thighs.
The extra moisture isn’t wasted. Todd’s diabolical thumb, completely soaked, inches a path into the dark, forbidden area of my anus. Suspended between the two men my body spasms with electric shocks.

Mike’s cock starts leaking in my mouth. His prized control is waning. I don’t know how much more I can take. I speed up my sucking to match Todd’s rhythm, knowing both men are sprinting toward the finish. I have a suspicion their orgasms will trigger another for me. I’m already trembling, barely able to keep myself on my hands and knees. It won’t take much to make me scream.

A loud speaker blares. “Shoppers, the store will be closing in five minutes. Please take your purchases to the cashier. Thank you for shopping at J. C. Penney’s.”

Maybe it was just saying Todd’s employer’s name but he lost it on the final word. Mike is seconds behind him. I’m nearly there. Todd figures it out and reaches for my clit.

“Oh, sweet fucking God,” I scream into Mike’s hip. The boys hold me up as I hang between them, shaking as the explosions leave me helpless and limp.

Oh, yeah. I’ll never despise JC Penney’s again. Hell, I’ll shop here five days a week, and twice on Saturdays from now on.

For the next sixty seconds we remain frozen like an artsy wax tableaux. Then we all move at once.

Todd draws back and zips his pants. “You’ve got to go.” His hoarse voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Really?” Mike asks, moving in a languid way designed to drive Todd as crazy as it used to make me when my mother’s footstep neared. “You don’t want another round?”

Todd’s head pivots on his shoulders as he searches the store. “Wait in the dressing room.” He points toward Sportswear. “It’ll take me a few minutes.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Mike says to Todd’s back as he hurries away.

“Have you lost your mind?” I demand as I adjust my clothing.

Mike chuckles. “I didn’t hear you complaining. But no, we’re not meeting Todd-o for another round. We just want to give him hope and a good story to tell. Besides, you still want to thank me for a lovely night.”

Warning - this is HOT.

“Nice, aren’t they?” Mike says casually.

I tilt my head back to see the hands squeezing my breasts belong to a dark haired young man with a name tag. I squint. Todd. If Todd is twenty, I’d be surprised. I glare at Mike whose response is an easy shrug. Mike and I are going to be talking about this, I can tell you.

I remind myself revenge is a dish best served cold. And right now, I’m very hot.
“Roll over.” He kneels by my face, his erection still firm in his hand. “Mr. Wiggly needs your soft lips and Todd, here, needs to sell this mattress or get a reward.”

Todd grunts at the mention of the reward. Mike tosses the younger man a foil pack and waits on me.

Mike knows I chafe at orders, so I take my time. I sit up, adjust my skirt and halter. I narrow my eyes at Todd, sizing him up. There’s a promising bulge in his chinos. Like the conspirators we’ve always been, both Mike and I grin. Todd grins back. He’s got a toothy, naughty smile, like a young Dennis Quaid. My pussy swells at the sight. This could be fun.

I roll onto my hands and knees and edge to the corner of the bed. Todd is the only one not undressed, but he’s fast on the draw. He hikes my skirt over the small of my back and reaches between my legs. Todd tips my ass up and spreads my cheeks, obviously taking a leisurely look at my pussy. I wiggle at him only to hear the condom packet rip.

My hand slides around Mike’s hard erection and remember why I’ve been excited all week. He’s got the most perfect cock. A shapely, thick head tops his veined shaft with hot red temptation.

I dream of his penis, even when I’m awake. My cubicle often wafts female arousal from my frequent fantasies. Thank heavens I’m stuffed in an unpopular corner by the stairwell.

Pressing my lips around him, I inch forward. Pre-cum dew covers the shiny head making it easy to encompass him. He groans. I open my eyelids wide and look up at him. It’s his turn to throw his head back and work his jaw. Satisfaction ripples up my spine at the knowledge he is as helpless in his lust as I am in mine. Sighing, I lose myself in the sensation of smooth skin and sweet-salty hot hard flesh in my mouth.

The sound tells me Todd’s zipper is metal. There is a moment of adjustment before he plunges inside. Normally I’m the kind of girl who likes at least a little warm up. But tonight that’s already been taken care of. And how! He slides right in and I squirm against his lengthy cock.

Todd has twenty-year-old finesse. What he does have going for him is a long strong stroke that finds sweet spots with no help from him. He’s pretty good now, but in a few years, he’ll be devastating. He pumps hard, more interested in his satisfaction than in mine. Although he may be hurrying to avoid the possibility of the unemployment line if we’re discovered.

I clench around Todd’s thick erection and shudder. Mike in my mouth, a hard nearly teenager in my cunt – this is the very definition of heaven. I can barely breathe, but I don’t care.

Bringing sexy back.

Time to get back to the naughty story!

Part One is here. Part Two, here.

Part three: Right here!


I’d normally roll my eyes at his juvenile taunt, but I’m halfway there already. The sheer naughtiness of our scenario has primped my pump, so to speak. I pinch my pleasure. The intense sensation makes me arch my neck against the cool mattress cover.

I open my eyes a fraction. He’s still out of his jeans, and he’s breathing hard. I shudder at the look on his face. I shove two fingers in me, and my pussy clenches them hard. It wants something else to hang onto. I’d gotten wet the minute he opened his apartment door for me and now I’m getting what I need. I pet my clit and grind against my fingers. Breath wheezes through my teeth.

"yeah, like that.” He leans over the bed, breathes me in. Bracing one hand beside me, he gives his penis a twisting caress. “Stroke your clit like a little cock for me. Jack it.”

I obey. My head rolls back and forth against the mattress, lost in the sensations. Clenching my jaw, I hold back a sound. It might have been a wail, or even a groan, but it doesn’t matter. Five days of tension, since his out-of-the-blue call, have me reaching my crest.

My hips come off the mattress as I dig my heels in, tucking them almost under me. I’m spread so wide my thighs tremble. Lights strobe under my eyelids.

After all these years, Mike’s looking at me again with his hot blue eyes. I haven’t felt this aroused in I don’t know how long. My mind screams. Give me what I need. My body rolls toward orgasm. I’m so close to my peak.

“Open wide, baby,” he whispers and strokes my chin. “Take me deep.”

But I can’t. The sandalwood scent of Mike’s crotch is my final trigger, and then I’m too far over the edge to relax my jaw.

“Oh, Jesus,” I moan. My body clenches in convulsions. My neck arches against the mattress as the orgasm sends hot electric shocks up and down my torso.

I pant as my vagina ripples, mostly sated, but still hungry, against my fingers.

Hands push my black halter top aside, clasp my breasts, and knead. Clever fingers twist my nipples.

Breathing takes all my concentration. I need to force my eyes open, though. Mike is waiting on me. I’m dying to know what my performance has done for him.