Strangling the muse

I’m forever hearing my fellow authors talking about finding their muse. That always makes me laugh.

If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you probably saw my post yesterday about our Thanksgiving festivities. We ate, went back to the apartment of my son and his girlfriend, and visited until she had to go to work. Then we sat around some more. During that sitting-around time, Sir somehow managed to work the word “spluge” into the conversation. I don’t know how; apparently I’ve permanently blocked out that little moment in time. But what ensued was one of those things of which family history is made.

Our daughter, whose personality I’ve described as having my quick wit and sarcastic sense of humor and her dad’s poor timing and total lack of brakes, then began a litany on what I will politely call “Slang Terms For Male Ejaculate.” There are a lot of them. A LOT of them. Tons. Stuff I’d never heard, but made me shriek with laughter. My mother was there, the woman who thinks she urinates from her clitoris, and she tried everything she could within her Southern Baptist constitution to not laugh, but she struggled, I could tell.

The little game session ended with my daughter drawing a penis spewing (pick your slang term here) on her brother’s girlfriend’s mirror, to which I added an arrow and the words “Red Eye Surprise” (yes, yet another slang term we discovered). If this makes you want to friend me on Facebook simply out of curiousity about my weird life, go right ahead. This story is more tame than most.

But I digress.

Here was what happened for me during this little game: I started to think about what some of the Walters men would do in that situation. And I knew exactly. I could hear them in my mind, see their faces. I knew Vic would get the ball rolling; not sure how, but he would. Tony would jump right into the fray and keep it going. Clayton would be laughing so hard he couldn’t speak or breathe, José would pull out some extremely creative terms, and Peyton would blush, get up, and go back into the kitchen, where he’d find Doug watching from the doorway, doubled over with laughter but afraid to get involved for fear he’d hear about it later when he chided someone else for their filthy mouth. Freddie would be overwhelmed and not know where to begin, Bart would be laughing quietly, Bennie would just be grinning, Mark would throw one in occasionally with a little medical terminology flair, and John Henry would be goading Vic on. Nikki and Laura would be listening from the kitchen, shaking their heads; Annabeth and Katie would be glad that they didn’t have to deal with that stuff; and Brittany would be mad that they were carrying on like that with the kids wandering around. And Sophie would wander through, yell, “POOGE, DADDY!!!” and squeal and run down the hall. That would make Tony howl with laughter when Laura came through the doorway and shot Vic a look that would wilt a California redwood.

And if this took place elsewhere, everyone would be getting a glimpse of Clint’s personality since he and Trish have been together because he’d be the ringleader. Out from under the specter of grief and despair where he’d lived for so long, we’d get a chance to find out that Clint is funny and silly and friendly and warm and loving, all those things he didn’t seem capable of. Of course, Steffen would be laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe and throwing in the occasional sickening term, and Dave would be sitting there very matter-of-factly, calmly rattling them off one by one as fast as he could come up with them. Marta and Angela would be screaming with laughter, Sheila would be right in the middle of it, and Trish would be wondering how long it would be before they got a call from McKenna’s teacher when she said something in class about “baby batter.”

But this brings me back to the muses. You see, I don’t have to drum mine up. They’re with me all the time. I don’t think about them; they just live with me. They’ve taken up residence in my head and they won’t go away, and I’m sort of glad. I don’t have to work at it. My books almost write themselves because I just follow the characters and watch them, let their lives unfold, and see where it goes. Yeah, I have a plot and a general idea where it will go, but when I turn them and their personalities loose, things happen that enrich the plots to the point that the books become WAAYYYY  more interesting than I’d originally planned. They fill in the simple, day-to-day things that make the book more realistic between the large events that make the plot what it is.

And that’s fine with me. Let them write the books. Takes some of the pressure off, knowwhatI’msayin’?

Sometimes they’re talking when I’d really rather they weren’t. Like when I’m trying to write in one series and the characters from another are talking. That’s kind of distracting. No, that’s very distracting. Then I have to stop, have a conversation with them, go back to the other manuscripts, note what they’re saying, and then return to what I was doing. What a bother.

Or when I’m at the grocery and Laura and Nikki are talking about cooking something that I have no intention of making in the next month. It’s hard to remember to get rutabagas when someone’s chattering on and on about cheesecake. Hard to stay on a diet too, for that matter.

And then there’s when I’m in the shower. Or having sex. Which is okay if it’s the guys talking, but when it’s the girls, that’s kinda creepy. In a sexy way. Oh, nevermind.

Another author and I were talking one day and he asked if mine ever shut up. I told him no; he said that made him feel not quite so alone because his don’t ever shut up either. Yet another author friend and I have talked about the fact that it’s almost like we’re channeling them. Really, it is. It’s like they take over and tell me what should be going on, like I should be trying on a new pair of Jimmy Choos when, in reality, I’m supposed to be scrubbing the shower. Nice try, Kelly. Have fun at Nordstrom.

So when they get to be too much and you just don’t want to deal with them, or you know what you want to say and you think you don’t need their help, here’s how to get rid of them. I think I will call it:

Remind yourself, “They’re not real”

Yeah, tell yourself that over and over. Remember: If you don’t see them as real people, then your readers won’t either. It will relieve them of the responsibility of reading your work because it’ll be so boring and contrived that they’ll never get through it. When a reader can read your dialogue and say, “Nope. Real people would never say that,” then you’ve managed to shut up the muses. Nice going.

It also cuts down on arguments in the car. Between them, I mean. I wear my Bluetooth EVERYWHERE or people think I’m daft because I’m arguing with myself in the car. I could put down the window and say, “It’s Tony and Nikki, I swear!” But I fear that would get me in even more trouble because, to the rest of the world, I’m alone. If only they knew . . .

I’m never alone.

Create a diversion

This always works nicely. Turn up the music – REALLY LOUD. Or here’s the muse-killer extraordinaire: Turn on the TV. Works every time. If you want to create a situation where they can’t talk to you, TV always sets the mood – unless you’re trying to recreate Vampire Diaries in your books, at which time you’ll need the TV. But you won’t need a computer or pen and paper, because no one wants to read that shit. Been done. Move on.

And there’s always pain pills, booze, or your mother droning on and on over the phone. The mother will kill your muses in under three minutes. The pain pills will do the same. The booze? Hemingway said, “Write drunk. Edit sober.” To which I say, “Amen, brother, preach it.” Do I write better when I’m drinking? I’d like to think so. I’m not sure, but I know I certainly write happier. And yes, it loosens me up. That’s one drink. Two, not so much. With three, let me warn you: NO ONE writes well sloppy drunk. That’ll make your muses run for the hills for sure.

Now, add to this movies with friends, arguments with your kids or significant other, and calling your ex just to fight for no reason. That’ll do it. After all, this isn’t serious business – it’s just writing. No biggie.

Jump from manuscript to manuscript

You’re working along and they’re chattering in the background, but you’re tired of them, so go to that other manuscript, the one you’ve never found the muses for, and work on that for awhile. They’ll get bored and go away. Better yet, start yet another story, one that you really haven’t gotten a feel for yet, but that, for reasons unknown to anyone on the planet, you think will sell better. Yeah, that one. Work on that for awhile. Your muses will eventually give up, go sit down, and whisper amongst themselves. They’ll leave you completely out of the loop and you’ll have peace and quiet to muck around in.

No, I’m not suggesting that you only have one manuscript going. But if you’ve got more than one open at a time, well, you’re pretty sure to chase your muses away. Try it – you’ll see I’m right.

Decide that they’re wrong

You have a character named Bob. Bob is a really, really serious guy. He’s had a hard life, and he rarely if ever smiles. He’s dealing with a lot of emotional pain. To top it off, he’s very shy. You’ve devised this huge soiree you want Bob to go to, and he’s going to be the life of the party. And when you start writing it, Bob says, “Whoa! I’m not going to a party! My social anxiety disorder will kick in big time. I’m getting a little nauseous and flushed just thinking about it. Please, I can’t do this. It will kill me.”

And you say, “No, you’re going to the party. You’re going to be the life of the party, and then later, you’re going back to being your old self. I want everyone to see this side of you, Bob.”

To which Bob responds, “But I don’t HAVE that side. It’s not there. Please, don’t try to make me. It’ll ruin everything.” Actually, he’s begging and pleading.

No, you’re not moved by his entreatment, so you persist. And, as predicted, it comes off leaden and contrived. But hey, Bob’s not telling you what to do anymore, right? Problem solved.

Try to make them be you-know-who

You’re writing along with your characters, Hannah and Tristan. And you suddenly realize: They’re not enough like Ana and Christian. You even tried with the names, but they’re just not acting like them, all shaky and socially inept or angsty and tormented. Doesn’t matter that the story is going along just fine, that it’s looking pretty interesting, or that they’re developing their own personalities. No, they’re just not similar enough to the characters in your favorite book. They’re not Bella and Edward enough. And your character Jackson isn’t enough like Jacob.

They must change. They must conform or perish. So you kill one of them off and then get another one in there that’s more Christian- or Edward-like. Congratulations. You’ve just written someone else’s book.

Ignore them

Let me just tell you right now, Vittorio Vincenzo Moretti Cabrizzi aka Victor Vincent Walters is not ABOUT to be ignored. The guy just won’t have it, and if you know anything about him, you know that if he intends to be noticed, he will be, no way around it. Besides, with his size and looks, ignoring him is pretty much impossible anyway. Antonio Luigi Walters is accustomed to being the authority figure in his circle, and he earned that position with intelligence, hard work, and wisdom born of years of struggle. He has no intention of being ignored, and you can ask his little wife, Nicolette Renee Wallace Wilkes Walters, about that. She’ll tell you that ignoring him is as easy as shoving a chimpanzee into a shoebox. Just isn’t going to happen. But if I ignored Vic or Tony long enough, know what they’d do? They’d leave, that’s what they’d do. Your muses will too. If you ignore them, they’ll find another fertile field to plant in, and it won’t be yours. Try making a plot without them.

Oh yeah. You have. Forget I said that. How’d that work for you?

Just generally don’t like them

This is the one that will really kill them off. They’ll leave and they’ll never come back. Ready?

Dislike them. Hate them, really. They’ll disappear because, as Steffen says in Unforgettable You, everyone just wants to be loved.

See, here’s the thing. We talked about this in a panel on which I sat that dealt with villains. If you want an effective villain, one that will really, really grip the reader and leave them torn, conflicted, and basically invested up to their earlobes in the story, make that villain a despicable person with a conflicted, tormented heart that lets you know that even they have some redeeming quality. It may be insignificant, but there’s something there, some little spark of humanity, that they can’t deny or deal with. They’re the person the reader hates but, at the same time, wants desperately to love because the reader sees that soft little underbelly and wants to stroke it to make that villain even just a little less tormented. The reader wants to like them; can’t, but wants to.

So do it. Hate your characters. Give them absolutely no redeeming value. Make them the most emotionally devoid, painstakingly cruel entity on the planet. Let them be someone who meets with a fate worse than death because you can’t stand them.

I didn’t like Steve very much when I started writing him into the Love Under Construction series. He seemed to be a loathsome individual. But know what I found as I went along? Steve had his own story, his own, sad, sweet, hurtful story, and I owed it to him to give him that opportunity to redeem himself by letting everyone see that soft, warm, vulnerable side of him. If I hadn’t done that? If you don’t do that?

Don’t be surprised if, halfway through the story, that muse bails on you. When they realize that you don’t like them and won’t give them even the tiniest break, just the smallest crumb of sympathy, they’ll disappear. You won’t hear from them again. But you’ll have to find another villain, because that muse has evaporated before your eyes.

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There. See? It’s not so hard to kill off your muses. Writers do that every day. I know, because I’ve accidentally gotten hold of some of their books. You’ll know one when you read it. It’s the one you can’t finish, the one that tells you you’ll never buy another of that author’s books.

Trust me, Mr. or Miss Author Person, that dance you do with your muse will be the most important one of your life. And believe you me, if Tony, or Vic, or Clint or Steffen or Dave show up in the night and want to dance with me?

I’m going to open up this laptop and dance until I drop. And then I'll be excited to see where they take me next. Frankly, I trust them a lot more than I trust myself. Without them, there'd be no story. And that story? That's everything.

Stop embarrassing yourself

Here I go again, about to step in it up to my earlobes. I seem to do that often, and it’s just something I do naturally, so I don’t care anymore. It’s a comfortable place to be. Some of you are going to be furious with me when I finish this, so just bear with me and you’ll understand why I’m saying what I’m about to say.

Some of my fellow authors have recently lamented the Kindle Select Program’s cheapening of the marketplace. I understand their concern, truly, I do. It’s making it very difficult for them to compete in the marketplace. I realize this, and I apologize – a little. But for authors like me who are lesser known and still trying to make a place in the market for their work, it’s great exposure to the masses.

But there’s another factor upon which I touched last week in my blog post, and so today I’m going to expand on it a little. Okay, a lot. Humor me. It is the influx of “authors” these days due to the availability of the ability to publish. And the influx is massive. It’s less like an influx and far more like an invasion. But there’s a distinct difference in these authors. What’s the difference, you ask?

It’s that a great many of them shouldn’t be publishing anything. Period.

“Well, freedom of speech and my rights and blah, blah, blah!” the invasion cries. “Who are you to tell us whether or not we should publish, you erudite word master prone to snobbery!” The answer is apparently that I think I have a little knowledge in that arena and I might possibly be able to advise you. So let me try.

But wait: The new invasion of “authors” would never use those words, you know, like erudite, because, quite frankly, they have no idea what that means. And I don’t think a one of them owns a dictionary.

You see, here’s the thing. I have this mental block when it comes to “sensual” and “sensuous.” And when I get ready to use one, what do I do?

I look it up.

That’s right, folks, I’ve been doing this since I was eight years old, and I do still own a dictionary. I don’t use just the online version; I actually own a paper and cardboard dictionary, an orange one with the name of the dictionary on the spine. Really. And it gets used – often.

So yes, I know the difference between the following words:

your, you’re;

there, their, they’re;

it, it’s;

to, too, two;

bare, bear;

peak, peek, pique.

Oh, there are so many more that I see misused on a daily basis. Kills me, it really does. All you have to do is look them up. And that’s the problem.

Today’s “authors” don’t even know they should. They actually think they’re using the words correctly, or they don’t care (because they’re in such a rush to hit “publish”), or they don’t think it matters. They have such a poor grasp of the English language that they don’t know there’s another (correct) word available. Sad, really, but it’s the truth.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Unless you made straight As in high school English (and they give those loosely these days, let me tell you), please, PLEASE do not publish a book unless you can afford the $4,500.00 for a professional editor, and if you hire one, make sure that their English skills are better than yours. I know that’s difficult, since you don’t have a standard to even work with, but try. Please try.

And here’s a novel approach: Read a novel. I mean, read. Do you even read books? Do you know what good writing looks like? Check out Barbara Kingsolver, Patricia Cornwell, Stephen King, John Grisham, Sue Monk Kidd, and their fellow authors. If you can read their work and then read yours and still not see the difference, for god’s sake, shut off your computer and go knit. Or something.

Before you think I’m just a snob or I’m being mean and petty, let me tell you why I’m saying all of this. And it’s not what you think.

It’s because you’re embarrassing yourself.

You really are. You’re putting out a substandard work for which you’re neither trained nor prepared. Worse yet, you’re doing it proudly. Like a dog with a dingle berry on its butt, you’re strutting around as an “author,” doing author-like stuff, talking like an author (“Oh, let me pass this on to my PA”), and generally trying to be a part of the publishing community. And you can be, because there are plenty of other authors just like you out there, dashing something down, halfway formatting it, slapping a five dollar cover on it, hitting publish, and THEN editing it for six months and re-releasing it and re-releasing it and re-releasing it, and really not doing much to it. Maybe you’re even changing the plot in those re-releases. That’s a new book – you do realize that, right? Why would you release something that’s not finished? That’s like mixing up cake batter, pouring it in a pan, and taking it, unbaked, to a family dinner and being disappointed when it didn’t receive “critical acclaim.” You think it should?

You don’t realize it, but authors like me and my fellow word slaves are looking at your work. We’re either reading it because one of our readers has made some comment about how horrible it is, or we happen on it accidentally and throw up in our mouths a little when we read it. Do you realize you get whispered about? Do you know that you get laughed at? Well, you do. It isn’t pretty. And it’s your own fault, it truly is.

But what happens next is the real travesty. When you do that, when you turn out something that isn’t finished, or has mistakes all through it, or reads like a first grade reader, you’ve just added one more substandard work to the growing pool of substandard work out there. Oh, yes, part of this is because it’s so fun to be an author, so romantic and exciting and all that crapola. So let me clue you in on the romance and excitement of being an author who puts out polished, professional work.

Fifty edits. That’s what we estimate my works undergoes – fifty edits. It gets checked for all of the following: proper word usage; spelling; punctuation; plot continuity; inconsistencies in the plot, characters, setting, and anything else where it could be a problem; non-breaking spaces between titles (Mr., Mrs., Dr.) and the first names of the characters, or between the title and the last names of the characters if the first name isn’t used, or between first and last names if there are no titles; non-breaking spaces between ellipses (do you know what those are?), except for the last one in a string followed by more narration/dialogue; non-breaking spaces between a word and an em- or en-dash following it (but not behind the dash, and I assume you know what those are, right?); correct chapter presentation; and generally anything else that could possibly be wrong, including the front and back matter (there’s a couple more of those technical terms).

Wait – you do know what a non-breaking space is, right? And where to find one in your word processing program?

Then it goes to a professional formatter. That’s not terribly expensive, but it’s necessary. It makes the difference between finding a chapter starting on its own page, or finding a chapter starting halfway down a page. And yes, there is a way to keep that from happening. No, I will not share. Get a formatter. Please.

And a cover artist. Holy shit balls, I’ve seen some of the worst crap in the world on covers. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” only applies when you’re standing at the makeup counter at Macy’s. If it’s a real book, and you’re not speaking metaphorically, then yes, they do get judged that way, so make it look professional.

And now you’re saying, “But I don’t have that kind of money!” Know this: The ones of us doing this work seriously know that it’s a business. And starting and running a business takes money. Some of us are still hoping to break even. Many won’t ever, even though their work is pristine. Put the money into a good product. Please.

Now I hear you crying. I know, I know – you’ve got a great story in you. Doesn’t everyone? If you sit around long enough, you can come up with a story that seems like the best one since JK Rowling set down that pen and went to town. Written down on paper, meh. Maybe it’s good; maybe not. So let me give you some encouragement.

Write it. Yes, that’s what I said: Write it. Then publish it on Lulu or Snapfish or someplace like that. Take it to your family get-togethers, see if your aunties and cousins will buy a copy. Take it to a festival in your town, pay for a booth (yes, they cost money), set up a table, and put a stack out there. See if you have any interest. And ask for feedback – honest feedback. Yes, I know it’s like putting yourself out there naked on the corner of First and Main and hoping everyone likes what they see. It’s painful. Often, your work will be less eagerly received than if you twerked on the front lawn of the church on Sunday morning. That should be a sign to you.

After all of that, if you still believe in that story, or your writing, or what your five fans (translation – your mom’s bridge friends and your hairdresser) said in the reviews you begged them to write, then do it. But don’t be like the guy I recently encountered, who sent me his story and asked me to read it and give him feedback. Here’s what happened.

I read it, and it was awful. Read more like an instruction manual than an erotic romance or erotica. I told him so. And he published it without doing a damn thing to it. Worse yet, I got a PM from him this week, telling me that he’s got a new book out and INSTRUCTING me to go to Amazon, buy it, and give him a good review. He didn’t ask, mind you; he TOLD me to do so. I’m guessing he did that to every friend he has on Facebook. Did I do it?

Hell no. I can pour sulfuric acid into my eyes without having to buy it on Amazon and give it a review, because that’s what some of the “books” out there today are like. Stop embarrassing yourself. Just because you can hit “publish” doesn’t mean you should. I’m going to hate myself for this, but if you want, send me a few pages and ask my opinion. Be prepared for the real deal, not a candy-coated version, because I’m tired of this shit and I’m ready to get real about it.

I should warn you, though, don’t do it if you’re going to cry or go out there and bad-mouth me. I can bad-mouth right back. If you do it, everyone will see your crappy work, because I’ll post it and point out the errors.

Then you’ll wish you were twerking naked on the lawn of the police station on Saturday during the annual catfish celebration. Unless you just don’t care. And that makes you part of the problem.

Editing by Mr. Deanndra, who is an avid reader and an all-around great guy (but not an English major).

Street team abuse - it's real

I want to start off by saying that I know I've been a little absent lately, but I've had to rethink my blog offerings, primarily the Wednesday posts.

When I started off with my Wednesday reads, I made it abundantly clear that they were NOT reviews; rather, they were books I read and appreciated for their uniqueness, writing skill level, storytelling, or subject matter, or just because I like a sappy love story. Shut up. They were never intended to be reviews, as I stated.

Problem is, I've been inundated by authors, agents, and publishers wanting me to review their books. Let me say it again: I'M NOT A REVIEWER. The purpose of this blog is to support my WRITING, not to provide every Tom, Dick, and Harry out there with a frickin' review. To all my author friends whose books I've showcased here, I was glad to do it. To the rest of you, it ain't happenin', so just cut it the hell out. I even had one who had the audacity to pursue me and then ask me what my qualifications were for reviewing. I'm guessing you're thinking, "I know what she said to that," and you'd be right.

So I'm going to showcase the books from series I've already started and possibly do others, but I'm not going to do them on any set time schedule. I'll do them when I do them. That's it - that's all. Sorry. In between you'll get more of my pithy, sarcastic, screw-you attitude - which I know you love.

And now on to the purpose for today's post.

I had a little come-apart earlier in the week and sent a rather lengthy post to my street team, basically asking them if I posted it, would I get kicked off Facebook. The response I got was positive and sad at the same time. So I'm asking you to read this and then post the link all over the place so EVERYONE sees it. This is a message to all the authors and street team members out there who need to hear it.

You see, I've been hearing rumblings all over, and I mean ALL OVER. So here are some of the things I've heard.

I'm on a street team where we have to post ten times a day or we get kicked off.

They made me fill out an application to be on the street team and said, "We'll get back to you." And they never did.

I had to take time off for a family crisis, and I explained it to them and apologized. When it was resolved, I asked to come back to the team. They didn't want me back.

I'm being treated like shit in the street team I'm on because I'm on more than one street team.

According to them (other ST members, admins, or the author), if I'm on more than one street team, I'm being "unfaithful" to the author.

I'm being told that I can't be on this or that authors' street teams by the street team I'm on because that author doesn't like the other authors.

They've got a limit of five (six, three, etc.) street teams that I can be on, and it's a requirement that they're all in the same genres (or the same thing but all different genres).

The author wants me to have his/her tee-shirts, caps, swag, etc., but I'm expected to buy it.

So now I've got a little question for my author buddies out there. It's a simple one, really.

JUST WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

I mean, really? Here's an idea: Dock their pay. Take away their benefits. Cut back on their sick days and holidays, or cut out holiday pay altogether. Isn't that what an employer does?

Wait? You're not paying them? What do you mean, you're not paying them?

Get this now and get it straight: THESE PEOPLE DON'T OWE YOU A DAMN THING. They're doing what they're doing out of the goodness of their hearts because maybe they like you, or they like your books, or you said something clever on a Facebook post once and it made them laugh, or their best friend is on your street team, or your name is their dog's name too. Whatever. Doesn't matter what the reason - YOU'RE NOT PAYING THEM. You have ZERO right to impose any rules on them. No, I take that back: You do have the right to either deny them membership or to remove them from membership if they can't behave in a professional manner or if they are doing something illegal or immoral, such as soliciting drugs from another street team member or using the street team as a hookup ground for cybersex. Not cool - not cool at all. Otherwise, get this through your head - you're not paying them. You have NO RIGHT to impose rules on them.

Are your books so damn spectacular that they should kiss your feet for writing them? Are you so damn special that they should be in awe of you and be glad that you'd even let them on your street team? Are you sure as hell not going to interact personally with them? What kind of narcissist are you? Are you really egotistical enough to believe that the occasional free book or sharing some of your own advertising material with them is compensation? Uh-oh - I just threw up in my mouth a little.

So let me clue you in on a little sumpin'-sumpin'. If you've been in the indie publishing game for three or four years, the playing field is being leveled as I type this. It's unlikely that you'll be getting those big checks anymore. Why? Because there are thousands of people hitting "publish" every day who shouldn't. Their work is crap, and some of them know it, but they're so in love with the idea of being an "author" that they're going to do it anyway, even if they know their work is shit. That puts them out there in the marketplace where YOU have to compete with them. Kindle Unlimited and Kindle Owners' Lending Library is making that more lucrative for them every day, and people who otherwise would never have sold a book are getting little chips off the Global Fund block for borrows. That's enough to encourage them to keep going. What that means for you, as a seasoned indie veteran, is that putting out a book every one and a half to two years is no longer going to be acceptable. Six months, and they've moved on to another author. Some of our readership doesn't have a lot of discretion, so they'll read crap and think it's wonderful. And you've lost a reader. (Don't tell me you don't care about those people because they don't know good books when they read them. If everyone like that quit buying your books, you'd have to get a job at a convenience store, and you know it.)

Street teams were intended to fill in that gap between the author and the readers out there who've never heard of them. Anyone who knows anything about business - and a lot of you really don't - knows that advertising is the number one biggest expense any business has. Street teams are a cheap, fast, effective way to do some advertising when you don't really have any cash flow.

So why in the world wouldn't you be kissing your street team's collective asses? You certainly should be. They're doing you a favor, dumbass. They're working for you when they'd rather be reading (maybe even someone else's books), or shopping, or watching TV, or any of a number of things, but instead, they're in there glued to the computer screen, pimping as fast as they can go (and sometimes getting put in Facebook jail, right, Tabby?), talking you up to anyone who'll listen, and offering to leave swag all over their town to get people to notice you. And for some unfathomable reason, you think they should reach a daily "quota" of work for you, or buy your swag at ungodly prices, or sequester themselves in your street team and your street team alone (insecure or jealous, are we?), and work like a sonofabitch for you while you watch them in your notification boxes and pat yourself on the back. What the hell?

Don't get me wrong - I know many of us can't afford to pay a street team, and I know I certainly can't. But if I'm not paying them, I don't have the right to impose ANY requirements on them. None.

So here's the deal. I love my street team. The ladies on there will tell you it's more like a family than a street team. I get messages from some of them saying they're going through a hard time and they'll be absent for awhile. I always tell them family first, and I mean that. Yeah, I've got a few I haven't heard from in ages, even though I've tried to contact them. That's okay. Their name on my membership roster isn't costing me money, so what difference does it make? I try to remember their birthdays and when they're having surgery and if they or one of their children has a chronic illness, and I try to be supportive. God knows my memory is crap, but I try, I really do, and I think they'll tell you that I do.

Street team members, if you're not being treated that way, or at least with some respect, GET THE HELL OUT OF THAT STREET TEAM. No author should use and abuse street team members, and if you're in that situation, tell them to go fuck themselves and get out. Want a street team to go to?

Come to mine. I guarantee it's a fun, friendly, family-type place to be where you can promote me to your heart's content, even if that just means one day a week, or maybe once a month. I'm not picky. I'm not paying you. I'll take whatever time you can offer me and be thankful for it.

You authors out there with your noses up in the air, you should probably get yourself an attitude of gratitude and thank your lucky stars that you've been as successful and popular as you have been, because the times, they are a-changin'. In a few months, you may just need those street team members. If you keep abusing them and their time, they may not be there when that happens. It'll be a painful lesson.

So to my street team, I love you guys and appreciate every little thing you do for me. My goal in life is to write great books and live up to your expectations. If I fall down, I expect you to tell me, and to know that I don't blame you. And if I'm successful, it will be because of you, so I thank you in advance.

And authors, if you think I'm talking about you, I probably am. So think about why that might be and go thank your street team RIGHT NOW before they all come over to the dark side to have cookies with me. I serve tequila shooters and craft beer too. Yeah, that's right - I'm way more fun than you are.

No, I did not forget

My blog tour for Planning an Addition ends today. I didn't want to compete with the post that Drue's Random Chatter did, so my regular post will be tomorrow. Her offering is Nikki's confession. Tony has told both her and Vic repeatedly that he believes them when they say nothing happened while he was in jail, but it's eaten at him until he can't stand it anymore. Now, with the possibility that she won't be around much longer, he has to know exactly what happened, details and all. It's the opportunity to finally quash all of the speculation, gossip, and rumors once and for all. Hope you'll go over and enjoy it.

Drue's Random Chatter

And while you're at it, pick up a copy of Planning an Addition; hell, get all three! They're an enormous amount of fun and quite a bit of entertainment for not a lot of money.

See you tomorrow!

AVAILABLE EXCLUSIVELY AT AMAZON!

Here's an outtake from Planning an Addition

When I wrote this, I had something particular in mind. Do you know who Joe Perry is? He's the guitarist for Aerosmith. He and his wife have a farm in Vermont, Sleepy Hollow Farm, and there they raise Friesians. Friesians are very large horses that look a lot like draft horses (think Clydesdales), but instead, they're very graceful and often used as saddle horses and for dressage. As you can imagine, they were in high demand for knights to use in jousting or war because they're so big and heavy but able to maneuver easily through rather iffy terrain.

Anyway, the Perrys are in the process of selling their farm, or at least they were, and it's a historic landmark. This is not part of my story - Sleepy Hollow Farm is actually for sale, and you can see photos there of Joe and his wife on a couple of the horses, as well as their beautiful barns and pastures. I'd love to live there. I think the asking prices is like $4M or something. Ehhhh, probably not going to happen in the next few years (or ever).

But I started to think about the fact that Tony and Vic are big guys, plus they were schooled in dressage while they were living in Italy, and Friesians were just a natural choice before I ever knew about Sleepy Hollow Farm.  I wrote this and liked it, but it served no purpose in the books. But I thought it was fun - so here it is!

= = = = = = = = = = = =

“Do you want me to saddle Trickster? Because I can if you want.” Vic had finished saddling and bridling Vladimir, and the big stallion stood at ease, his reins tied to a ring on a stall door,

“No, no, I want to watch you work Vlad. I’ve never seen you ride.” Laura had been watching Vic move around the horse, completely relaxed and looking like he was in his element. “I’m surprised you remember this stuff.”

“Three days a week in elementary school, third level through sixth level. I was big enough for my age that I had a good-sized horse to work with. I don’t guess I’ll ever forget her. A mare. Her name was Pepe – Pepper. Pretty little gray Arabian. Even right before we left Italy, with everything I was involved in, I still went to the stables at least once a week to see her. I really missed her when we left.” Laura was touched; Vic’s eyes moistened just thinking about that horse, and she loved that after all that time, he still remembered the mare and loved her.

“You guys out here?” Tony’s voice rang down the barn corridor.

Vic called back, “Yep. Down here.”

They appeared in the hallway, Tony carrying Nikki. She looked more than exhausted, and that made Vic anxious. “Hey, sugar! You sure you’re up to this?”

Nikki nodded. “I wanna watch.”

Vic laughed. “Then I’ll make sure the show is worth the trouble!”

“I expect to see my husband show you up,” Nikki laughed and kissed Tony’s cheek.

Tony chuckled. “Oh, wow. Great. I’m sunk!”

“I remember you being pretty damn good. We’ll find out, won’t we?” Vic winked at Tony and Tony laughed right out loud. He pulled up a bale of hay and ducked into a stall to grab a blanket as Nikki stood, weaving a little; Laura moved over and wrapped an arm around her waist until Tony could get back and get her nest made. When he had the blanket over the hay, he helped her get situated, then sat down beside her and pulled her into his side. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“Okay, big boy, let’s see what you’ve got,” Tony growled, shooting an evil grin Vic’s way.

“Here we go.” Vic unsnapped the lead line and, taking the reins, led Vladimir into the practice arena. Once they were inside with the gate closed, Vic mounted the horse and Nikki watched with interest as the animal shuddered. “Okay, big ‘un, let’s see what you’ve got.” One cluck and his heels into Vlad’s sides, and the horse moved forward.

Nikki and Laura watched wide-eyed as Vic put Vlad through a series of dressage moves, from collected and extended gaits to passage. Horse and rider executed a half-dozen flying changes, all flawless. Tony just grinned. He’d heard from family members about Vic’s skill level in dressage, but he’d never really witnessed it for himself. And it was impressive – very, very impressive. When Vic finished, he cantered to where the three watched. Nikki was the first to speak, and all she could squeak out was, “Oh my god, Vic, that was amazing!”

“You weren’t kidding. You really can ride.” Laura was shaking her head.

Tony just smiled – until Vic said, “Okay, brother, your turn. Put him through his paces. This horse is a champion waiting to ribbon. We get him in the arena, let him turn on the heat, and he’ll be unbeatable.” As he spoke, he dismounted. “You’re up. Show these girls how it’s done.”

Tony laughed. “Too late! I think you already did!”

“I hear you’re pretty damn good yourself.” He held the horse while Tony mounted, then turned loose and joined Nikki on the hay bale, wrapping an arm around her just as Tony had. Tony grinned and winked, then turned the big horse and took off across the arena.

He was every bit as good as Vic. The horse responded easily to his cues, and they watched as he not only performed a whole series of flying changes but also executed four three-sixty pirouettes in rapid succession at a full canter. His mount carried out every command with grace and ease, and Vic watched, awestruck. This was it; this horse would be a champion. Tony returned to the entry point and dismounted. “My god, this horse is amazing. I can’t believe how easy it was to lead him through all of that.”

“Like second nature for him,” Vic replied, nodding.

“Absolutely. We need to try out the mares, see if they’re close to as good as him. If so, we’ve got a winning breeding program in the course of time.” Tony affectionately slapped the sweaty horse on the neck, then scratched behind his ears. Vlad stretched his neck out and curled his lips. “I think he likes that a little.” Tony chuckled as the big head shook and Vlad snorted, then stamped one foot.

“By the way, I know where they came from. Did you get to actually talk to . . .” Nikki had been a fan of their famous previous owner most of her life.

Vic grinned. “Yeah! Nice guy. Talked to his wife one day too. She’s just as nice. But I think the farm is up for sale. They’re keeping their saddle horses, but they’re selling off all the rest.”

“Want a farm in Vermont?” Tony asked and winked at her.

Nikki snorted. “No! I like this one just fine. I’m not going to Vermont. Too cold in the winter.” Before anyone could say anything, she stood and walked up to the Vlad. He looked even bigger with her tiny, thin frame standing before him. She reached up and scratched his forehead. “Hi, buddy. That was very nice. You did a good job. I wish I could ride you someday.”

“You’ll most definitely ride him. I’d love for you to be the one to show him.” As Nikki continued to scratch his nose and Tony scratched his neck, he tried again. “You could handle him easily. He’s a dream to ride. Want up? I’ll help you.”

Nikki shook her head, then dropped her forehead to the horse’s face. Vlad responded by standing perfectly still as she wrapped her arms around his neck and just stood, motionless, like she was passing some kind of information to the big beast. “He wants to stay here, not go back to our barn. Can he stay here? In the big barn?”

“What do you mean, he wants to stay here?” Tony didn’t understand.

“He wants to stay here. More horses. Near the arena. He misses that and he wants to be here.” She didn’t turn loose of Vlad, just continued to stand and lean into the big horse.

“Nope. He needs to go back to our place. And you need to get back to bed.” Tony handed Vlad’s reins to Vic, then lifted Nikki easily and carried her toward the door. “You guys want to walk back with us?”

“Sure. Nikki, why don’t you just get up there and ride him back?” Vic pointed to the saddle.

Tony smiled at her. “I’ll get up there with you, precious. It’ll be fun.”

Nikki shook her head. “No. He’s going to get upset when you try to take him back.”

They got as far as the big barn door and stepped through, only for Vic to almost stumble backward when Vlad stopped. “Come on, bud,” Vic told him and patted his withers. But when he stepped forward again, Vlad just stood there. “Come on. Let’s go.” He clucked to the horse and slapped his shoulder, but Vlad wouldn’t budge. Vic turned his head and gave Nikki a scorching look.

She wilted. “Not my fault. I told you he doesn’t want to go back to our barn.”

“Well, how ‘bout you tell him he has to go,” Vic snarled.

“Won’t do any good. He doesn’t want to go. I can’t make him change his mind.” Nikki shrugged.

Laura walked right up to Vlad, put a hand on his neck, leaned into his ear to whisper something, and told Vic, “Okay. Take him on out.”

Vic took tried another step and, to his surprise, the horse stepped forward and followed. “What the hell?”

Laura just smiled. “I’m the horse whisperer,” she chuckled.

Tony stared at her. “What the hell? What did you say to him?”

Laura laughed outright. “I told him Nikki and I hang out in that direction. He wants to be with the girls!”

“Seriously?” Vic’s eyes went wide. “You did not. You’re making that up.”

Laura shook her head. “Think whatever you want. He’s moving, isn’t he?”

“That he is.” Vic’s free hand reached for Laura’s and she took it in both of hers, then kissed the back of his hand. Vic smiled at her and those same little butterflies she always felt when he was around flitted around in her chest.

“How did you know he didn’t want to go?” Tony couldn’t figure it out.

Nikki gave him a tiny smile. “Because he told me.”

Tony started to say something, and then he stopped. He didn’t understand, and he decided in that moment he didn’t need to. Some things about his wife were still a mystery to him, and that only made him love her more. He wanted to see her on that horse; he wanted her well enough to be on that horse. As he carried her with Vic and Laura trailing behind them, he wondered what else he’d never know about her. He was afraid there might be a lot he’d never get the chance to know. His life had become full of flying changes, some of which he hoped would stop.

Release day post: Writing erotica isn't as easy as it looks

Today is release day for Planning an Addition, the fourth and final novel in the Love Under Construction series. No, it's not the last you'll hear of the Walters clan - there are three Citadel books and four Legacy books coming, so hang in there and you'll be richly rewarded.

But there's something that's different about this book from anything I've done so far. This time around, I wound up with M/M components in the love story, and that's a new thing for me. So how does a hetero female write M/M?

She does a lot of research.

First, I read a few other M/M works, but I try not to do that. I don't want someone else's voice in my work, and that's a really good way for that to happen. I chose carefully, but I found that none of the works I read helped because my scenes are VERY different from those.

So next I found some works written by gay men, not stories, but actual accounts of their romances and encounters. Those were pretty interesting. Unfortunately, those were also not much help because the two individuals in my M/M were entirely different. One is bisexual, and the other considers himself to be straight. And that pretty much shot those works right out of the water.

Then I did the thing I always do. I started reading works that explain exactly how the sex act is performed between two men. I'm talking mechanics, physiological responses, etc. Not the most fun reading, but definitely the most accurate. I learned lots of things, some that I really wish I didn't know, but that's okay - that kind of information lends itself to far more realistic-sounding scenes. So I read and read and read.

And in the end, I had to do something I knew I'd do all along.

I just asked the characters. I let them talk, let them develop the relationship, let them experiment on their own. Their personalities are the key to virtually everything they experience in the books, of course, and letting them form their own relationship was the real answer to every dilemma in writing the work. It did something important. It let them do it their way and got me out of the way. How I felt about their relationship no longer mattered. They spoke, and I listened and wrote down the account just as they wanted it written. And guess what?

It worked.

What I wound up with was a rich, multi-layered, transparent look into the lives of a couple of people, one of whom is deeply in love, and the other, terrified. It also gave me a portal into the thoughts and feelings of the other person they brought along for that ride, and her perspective was interesting too, not to mention her inclusion in the relationship. Well, okay, it's more than interesting - it's frickin' hot.

I also discovered something else as I wandered down this pathway, and it's that there are very few menage books that feature all three of the characters actually in sexual relationships with each other all the way around. And I found they interacted in ways I never expected but loved. Some of those interactions were way past kinky, but that suited them. Not only that, they made no apologies for the way they felt about each other, but finally embraced it and let it grow. That encouraged me.

In the end, they were sweet and sexy and loving toward each other in a protective, familial way. I loved them before; I love them even more now. And holy hell, are they ever hot. Hot, hot, hot. Flaming hot. No, I didn't mean it that way, just hot. Okay, maybe I did mean it that way - sue me. But I love them and I'm especially proud of one of them for doing what he knew he wanted to do but was too afraid to admit to at first. You, Peyton Stokes, are my guy, and you rock. I'm so proud of you I could . . . no. I'm not going there.

I love this book, and I love that I'm getting to bring it to you. I hope you enjoy it, every hot, sweet, painful, sorrowful, joyful minute of it. And if you don't, you can blame them. They wrote it, after all.

My Reads: My Body-His (Marcello) by Blakely Bennett

When I picked up Blakely Bennett’s first book in the My Body series, I was hooked – so hooked, in fact, that I went ahead and bought the other two, then spent the entire weekend reading them. A few weeks ago I told you about My Body-His. Now I’ll tell you about the second book, My Body-His (Marcello).

First, let me just say that if you know me, you know how I feel about Italian male protagonists – love ‘em. And this book just fed that passion. We go back to visit Jane and Luke, and watch as the relationship becomes more and more dysfunctional, if that’s even possible. There’s a push and pull as Jane both tries to be the submissive Luke wants and tries to keep some of herself. Unfortunately, she fails on both accounts. After she’s disobeyed at a party, Luke sends her to Marcello as discipline. She doesn’t want to go, and when she stands up to him, the beating he gives her forces her to do the one thing that pushes him past the point of no return.

Having nowhere to go, she winds up at Marcello’s anyway. Marcello is one of those characters, not the ones you love to hate, but the ones you hate to love. For all his harshness and abusiveness, he also has a tender side, and uses some common sense in his use of Jane and the handling of her emotional fragility. Marcello had told her early on that she would be his, and due to her own actions, that winds up being the case. But exactly what that means is unclear, and she’s subjected to yet more pain and degradation under his tutelage. Problem is, even bound to a whipping horse and used as a toy by every man in attendance, something about the sex and the unsteadiness in her love of being used by men brings great instability and yet great peace to Jane’s life.

When this book ends, Jane has become Marcello’s, even if only through attrition. But Marcello may be one of the better things that’s happened to Jane. Or may not. That’s left to be seen.

I loved this book. Once again, Blakely took me into a world of extreme BDSM with enough mind fucks to turn the strongest submissive into a blathering fool. Luke’s behavior made me hate him even more, while Marcello’s understanding, patience, and temperance gave him the human touch he’d lacked before and helped me both like and appreciate him. I also loved Blakely’s exploration of Jane’s relationship, or lack of, with her father, a clue that let me see into the reason Jane could so easily allow herself to fall for Luke and be totally controlled and manipulated by him.

These books are must-reads. I can’t say enough good things about them, and in a few weeks I’ll bring you the final one, My Body-Mine. Until then, grab these two and get caught up on the series. Once you start reading, you won’t be able to put it down.