Thank you so much Delilah, for having me here at your blog today!

Lately, I’ve been blogging about the kind of BDSM stories I write and why I like to write them. My BDSM stories are romantic, sexy stories about the journey of self-discovery my characters take as they fall in love.

This week one of my characters is appearing at another blog in the Perfect Man Event (Day Dreaming) and he had to answer questions about what qualifies him to be the perfect man. Well, Gabe (from Power Shift,) was a tad uncomfortable answering those questions about himself, but the questions made me think about all my Dominant heroes and what they have in common. I’ve written a story about a Dom who’s just discovering his dominant side (Dev in Power Struggle) and stories about more experienced Doms, including Gabe in Power Shift, but the thing they all have in common is that they are caring Doms.

Because the Dominant in a relationship has power, he (and I only say “he” because my stories feature males Doms—certainly the Dom in a relationship can be a woman) he also has great responsibility. Just like Spiderman says. He is responsible for his submissive’s safety and her pleasure. That means knowing her, knowing what she wants and needs, knowing how far to take her. A caring Dom is kind and thoughtful. He loves and cherishes his sub. He takes care of his sub physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually. He provides safety and security and acceptance, and gives her the confidence and strength to give herself totally into his care. And although he takes control, he is ultimately controlling himself. He recognizes that even in a D/s relationship there has to be a balance of power and that it takes caring and understanding and commitment to achieve that balance. And he also recognizes that the journey of self-discovery never ends and there is always more to learn.

Here’s a short excerpt featuring Gabe and Reagan, from Power Shift:

He rolled her to her back, mouth still joined to her, so he could slide one hand up her body and cup one of her sweet breasts, so soft, so lush. It filled his hand perfectly, absolute perfection. He lowered his mouth to her breast and tugged her nipple into his mouth, tonguing it, sucking it, and she writhed beneath him, arching her back, pushing herself up to his mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair, scraped across his scalp and more sizzles cascaded over his skin. He growled.

She just wouldn’t give up on hurting him. Then he almost smiled, his mouth still closed over her nipple. She liked to make him feel things, and yet he knew she would never really hurt him. He trusted her, and she challenged him, every time, and he had to admit he’d never loved the thrill of a challenge more than with her.

His throat constricted and he bent his head, his heart pounding, taking a moment to get control of his emotions. And then he paused. Why was he hiding his feelings from her? She’d seen him at his most vulnerable. So he lifted his head and stared into her face.

She gazed back at him, and her expression shifted and her eyes flickered as she took him in. Her hands came to his head, his face, a tender smile curving her lips, and he swallowed hard at the love and respect and devotion he saw there. “I don’t know how to say it,” he choked out. “Other than I love you, Reagan.”

She stroked his hair and his rough cheek and he turned his mouth into her palm and kissed it, closing his eyes.

Then he knew what he had to say to her. “Reagan.” He looked at her and her eyes focused on him. “I don’t want to own you or control you. I want to care for you, and look after you but I want to tell you that…I will spend my life encouraging you. Making you stronger. And in doing that I know you’ll make me a better man.”

His words were like a sacred vow and her eyes glowed. “Gabe. Thank you. We’ll make each other better. I love you too.” Her gaze held his, her words too like a vow, a promise. “I love your strength, your honor. I love how unselfish you are and how you repay my trust in you with care. I love how you found the strength to be vulnerable with me when I know how much it scared you.”

“Sweetheart. I could say the same to you. I know you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable again.” Admiration and pride expanded inside him.

She nodded, eyes full of love and worship. “Thank you.”

“We both have to be willing to surrender,” he whispered, moving over her, between her legs. He took his weight on his elbows, arms beside her head on the pillow, hands in her hair. “I know that now.”

Here’s where you can find Kelly:
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Nine Naughty Novelists

You know, I look far and wide for special things to bring you! While I was at the Authors After Dark conference in Philadelphia last weekend, there was a vendor with dolls I couldn’t resist. Here’s one I bought especially with my wicked little devils in mind!

If you love it and want to see what else the dollmaker has to offer, follow this link:
Mistress Rae’s Decadent Designs

What do you have to do to win this precious little bottle doll? Post comments on my blog or my Facebook page. Every comment you make over the next two weeks will count as one entry.

The contest ends August 30th!

Last night, I dreamt John Wayne was my husband and that he was the captain of the U.S.S. Minnow. I’ll tell you a tail of sailing ship… Oh, and he was “grounded” from work for drinking and working in the control tower. Yeah, dreams don’t have to make sense, do they?

Only it kind of does given my odyssey yesterday. I almost got bumped from my flight, Philly to Atlanta, because Delta overbooked my one PM flight by five people. Hey, any other industry and that would be considered fraud! I did get on that flight and thought my troubles were over. Noooooo!

Our plane arrived late in Atlanta. Delta’s booking people told me they couldn’t confirm me for another flight until three the next day. I sat on standby for two more flights to Little Rock, then went begging an attendant to get me the hell out of the airport. “Fly me to Dallas, I’ll take a damn rental car home!” She took pity on me. At 7:20, I boarded a flight to Memphis. When I told the Red-Headed Hellion on the phone, she said, “Rental car? Pffft!” She drove the three and a half hours to pick me up. We got home about one AM.

Horror story over? Nah! My luggage didn’t come to Memphis. It flew to Little Rock and the airport closes at ten PM. So someone has to make another trip today to pick it up!

Anyway, I do have some fun stuff I brought back from the conference, pictures to share… Just not today. I do, however, have a winner!

The winner of the Fugly Ring Contest is…Tammy Ramey! 8) Tammy, congratulations! Be sure to email me with your snail mail address and I’ll get your huge sparkly into the mail for you!

Be back tomorrow for the start of a brand new contest!

Last week, I became exceedingly angry at one of my favorite talk show hosts, to the point where I phoned in and lifted my voice to the nice young woman who answered. I seldom call radio programs, but I was, as they say, about to bust a gusset. The reason? He kept referring to members of committees as “committeemen.” He did it over and over until I couldn’t contain myself.

Those of you who aren’t gray-haired old uppity women like me don’t remember the days before the female more-than-half of the species decided we ought to get the same respect and pay that men did. Back then, we had “doctors” and “lady doctors,” the second being a kind of oddity and not to be taken as seriously as the real thing. You may not have experienced the natural state of “man” back then, where virtually everything significant and remunerative was done by males. At that time, everyone on any important committee would have been male and the term “committeeman” would have been accurate. In short, you’ve never faced a world where women served as the Ladies’ Auxiliary of the human race. I have, and I have no intention of going back there. Ever.

So, why then did I describe my latest short from Changeling Press to my Romance Writers of America chapter with such glee as: A hard driving businesswoman meets a gladiator from another planet who has a problem with women in positions of authority? Shouldn’t a story about that set my hair on fire?

Well, yes and no. Yes if the hard driving businesswoman crumbles at his feet as though she were made of meringue. But, honestly, no one would want to read a story like that, anyway. We want to feel passion and fire…conflict, the engine that drives every good story. Still, in reality, wouldn’t such a woman tell him to take his attitude to someone who’d appreciate it and leave her the hell alone?

This leads us to the no part of the answer. A story where a powerful woman succumbs to the seduction of a more powerful man can provide a nice fantasy for a reader who would never allow a man to boss her around in real life. The story’s not real, and when you get right down to it, many of the things we enjoy in fiction would horrify us in real life.

As an author of erotic romance, I’ve written sexual interactions that I’d never consider performing, and I go back to the days of free love and “if it feels good, do it.” I’ve done threesomes, foursomes, exhibitionism, and bondage. I write a character Wonderslut, Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic. I had another character who hooked up with two perfect strangers to make love in their train compartment in complete darkness as the train traveled through a long tunnel. Delicious on the page but horrifying if not outright dangerous in real life.
Read the rest of this entry »

My Character Hijacked My Muse

Hello and welcome to my thoughts. Thank you Delilah for allowing me to be a guest on your blog. Sometimes, I wonder if I am doing the right thing when I venture out like this. You see; my topic for today’s post addresses characters who hijack my muse.

With that being said, I fear that I might be visited by men wearing white lab coats carrying a net and that might try to fit me with one of those white jackets with extra long sleeves. Especially after I tell you that my characters talk to me.

When I begin a project, I interview anywhere from five to seven characters including the protagonist(s), antagonist(s), comic relief and a few secondary characters. They provide very important clues that allow me to layout my book. From this, I build an outline. Now, I sit down in front of the keyboard and start writing my story.

Once I start the first draft, my characters assist me on my journey through their world. Whether it is a main character or a secondary character, I become the character and write in her/his point of view. They guide my thoughts because it is their story that I am telling in the first place.

Now, to the crux of this blog post: be wary of some of those secondary characters. On more than one occasion, a character had hijacked my story. Usually it is a secondary character, but once it was the antagonist trying to portray himself as a hero.

I have to keep my eye on the characters, yet they do hijack my muse. The thing is that the characters can do it so quickly. I am more apt to be hijacked once my muse starts to flow.

My most memorable hijacking occurred years ago while I worked on my first book. The scene involved space travel and a secondary character. Before too long, the words flowed onto the screen. My fingers flew across the keyboard as this character dictated the words.

At this point, my secondary character stepped up and took control. I did not realize that he had hijacked my work until I reread what I had written. This is when I found that the character had inserted himself as the protagonist of the story. The secondary character redirected the direction of the story so that it revolved around him.

By that time, I had entered 20 pages of his muse into the word processor. It took a bribe which included his own short story series in order for me to wrestle control away from this secondary character. Once I got him quiet, I (along with some of the main characters of this book) pushed him into a closet and locked the door. Then, I continued working on my original story idea.

As for the 20 pages of his story, they reside in a file on my computer. I intend on keeping my promise to work on the story in the future. Until I do, I get weekly reminders from this character when he beats on the closet door wanting out. It can get really noisy when the others stuffed in the closet with him join in.

My main characters help keep the renegades corralled in the closet. They know if the secondary characters get out, they may end up in the closet. What an incentive for them.

Now, I’m not saying “don’t allow your characters to assist” because it can be fun. As I said earlier, it is their story and they can guide you through it. My characters will tell me when I am not writing their story. I usually yield to their wisdom.

Do you ever converse with your characters? If you do, do they provide you with valuable information? I do on occasion but never in public except in my car. In that case, most people assume I have Blue Tooth and I am talking to someone via my cell phone. That way I can converse with my characters or dictate notes and use my voice recorder to capture the information.

That is why that I know this post may make me sound a bit on the crazy side but one of my favorite phrases I picked up over the years is “One does not have to be crazy to live in this world, but, man, it sure does help.”

Dennis Clarkston likes to read romance, science fiction, mystery and comedy – preferably all combined together. He likes to write the above genres but finds that most of his works end up being mainly science fiction/action adventure. Dennis writes under the pseudonym of Clark Stone and is currently pre-published.

Web site is www.clark-stone.net
Blog: blog.clark-stone.net
Contact: garnara@gmail.com

Researching Sin in Sin City

When I had the idea for my “Dr. Ally Skye, Sex Therapist” R-rated, comic romantic mystery series, I knew the perfect setting for the books was Las Vegas. The town is known for its sexual excesses, although the 25+ legal Nevada brothels are actually located in twelve rural counties—not in Sin City itself. Still there are plenty of carnal delights in Vegas to keep my sex therapist amateur sleuth busy with both her patients and her new hobby: helping her police detective lover solve sexual crimes. In addition to plotting the perfect murder, I enjoyed creating two fictional casino hotels as part of the setting: one pirate-themed and the other an Arabian Nights fantasy.

As most people know, sex is big business in Vegas.

There are “gentleman’s clubs” like Cheetahs, as well as low-class strip clubs, topless female revues and Chippendales male strippers. Even Cirque du Soleil has a titillating live show.

While prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas, those looking for sex can easily find paid companionship. There are plenty of free newspapers (sometimes called “bachelor guides”) and fliers touting paid “models” and “escorts”. Of course, if you hire one of them and get ripped off—left high and dry, so to speak—who are you going to complain to? So it’s “buyer beware” for those looking for sex in Sin City. Sometimes it’s even murder, which inspired my “Dr. Ally Skye, Sex Therapist” series.

Researching these books has led me to some very interesting websites. In addition to solving sex-related murders, Ally has her therapy patients with their own issues. Several are interested in trying things beyond their “vanilla” lifestyles, such as BDSM and role-playing, while others just want to bring the spark back to their intimate relationships. My heroine isn’t shocked by anything sexual between consenting adults, so as the author, I also keep an open mind while researching kink.

We first meet Dr. Ally Skye in Sex & the Single Therapist, when one of her patients is killed and a good friend is the main suspect. Before Ally and her Vegas insider friends can solve the crime, her investigations take her through a maze of lies, rampant adultery, steroid abuse, child pornography, and another murder. Of course, she also falls for police detective Zack Crawford, so the benefits definitely outweigh the risks of her sleuthing.

I’m currently researching the second book in the series, which features a serial killer who targets phone sex customers.

My research led me to an organization for sex workers (or “adult industry workers”) in Vegas called SCAPA, which is associated with the national Sex Workers Outreach Project. The SCAPA site has resources and information for escorts, prostitutes, dancers, erotic masseuses, phone sex operators, and more.

The third book will open with the murders of a ménage of swinger club devotees.

Two of the most infamous swinger clubs in Vegas are the Red Roster and the Green Door. Each has a long list of rules, such as BYOB (Bring Your Own Booze) and No Means No. The Green Door appears to offer more BDSM props, along with the standard group rooms, hot tubs, and couples only areas. The victims in my third book are murdered in my fictional swinger club’s pool.

The fourth in the series will explore the world of the human pony fetish. And I have ideas for working plushies and furries into future books. I admit I find the research fascinating.

What erotic fantasies or kinks do you enjoy reading about? I’ll give away an e-book of my comic romantic suspense, At Her Command, to a randomly chosen commenter on this blog post.

Here’s the book blurb for Sex & the Single Therapist:

A crime of passion…

To clear an innocent friend, sex therapist Dr. Ally Skye investigates a patient’s murder. Soon she’s trading heated words and hot kisses with a sexy cop. Can this free-spirited amateur sleuth and her posse of Vegas insiders solve the crime before the killer targets her?

A sexy complication…

Cynical homicide detective Zack Crawford has the murder to solve. The last thing he needs is a red-hot sex therapist who haunts his dreams. Ally is trouble and, given her job and his luck, she’d probably grade his performance in bed.

A dynamic duo…

Zack and Ally form an uneasy and sexually charged alliance. Murderers, extortionists and psychos are no match for these reluctant partners. Crime-solving was never this sexy or this fun!

For an excerpt from Sex & the Single Therapist, click on this link: Sex and the Single Therapist

And please visit my website to sign up for my e-newsletter and enter my monthly contest!

Thank you, Delilah, for inviting me to guest-blog!
— Marcia 😉

Genre Rivalry

I discovered a new writer the other day that I really enjoyed. She writes cozy mysteries, for which I have a sneaking fondness, and I was getting a kick out of hers when I happened upon a passage that made me wonder seriously if I wanted to pick up anything else she’d written. It was a party scene, and one of the guests had been described in a way that made it clear she was a complete moron. She and another guest, a writer, began discussing books they liked. And, of course, the moron turned out to just love romance.

This isn’t the first time I’ve stumbled across a mystery writer taking potshots at romance writers. If a romance author shows up in a mystery, for example, she’s usually a ditz. Sometimes she dresses in peasant outfits or pink chiffon with a picture hat. She almost always wears too much makeup. And, of course, she’s almost always stupid, unless of course she’s the murderer, in which case she’s not stupid but evil.

I’m not sure why mystery writers feel they have to take shots at us. I’ve never seen a mystery writer or reader portrayed negatively in a romance novel (although given the thousands that have been written, there may be some somewhere). Yet some mystery writers seem to take particular delight in unloading on their romance writing sisters.

This is all the more puzzling when you consider that romantic mystery writers (like Carla Neggers or Tami Hoag) have their feet in both camps. It’s not like there’s a hard and fast line between us. Nonetheless, mystery writers apparently feel that romance writers need to be put in their place.

They’re not the only ones who feel that way, either. Phillippa Gregory, the author of The Other Boleyn Girl, and other historical novels, made an offhand comment recently commending a fellow historical writer for being attuned to the time period she was describing, unlike romance writers whom Gregory disdained for being dilettantes. Now I’m sure some writers of historical romances screw things up (so, I’m sure, do historical novelists), but I’m also sure that lots of them are meticulous researchers because I’ve read the descriptions of their research. I’m guessing Gregory’s main complaint is that historical romances concentrate on, well, romance, while Gregory and her fellow historical writers put their interest elsewhere.

The point here, frankly, is that this genre rivalry doesn’t do much for any of us. People who read Eloisa James, like me, aren’t going to drop her just because Phillippa Gregory says historical romance sucks. Mystery writers’ potshots don’t diminish romance writers or romance novels; they just make the mystery writers look petty (and some mystery writers could learn a lot about creating credible relationships by checking out romances).

This whole “my genre’s better than your genre” thing is getting old. After all, many romance readers like me also read in other genres as well. And when I see romance readers and writers being insulted, it makes me a lot less likely to read that particular writer again. Think of it as the literary equivalent of cutting off your nose to spite your face.

Meg Benjamin
megbenjamin.com