Writing a Sex Scene With the Lights Off

I have always loved to read. I lean towards the suspense genre, but I love a good erotic story. Who doesn’t? But I found out fast that reading and writing a sex scene are two different things, and I suck at writing them.

In my first book I have one sex scene. I swear I wrote it with the lights off. You see I grew up in a strict Irish Catholic home and went to a catholic school. My mother never mentioned that word in the house and the nuns would send us to confession if they even thought we had those ideas in our head. I will admit I spent many hours in confession.  🙂   I just felt guilty, but once I got older I realized god was not reading over my shoulder.

Now I want a story to grab me, pull me in, and make me feel like I’m part of the scene. That’s what I want from a book I write. When I was younger I would blush and skim over the parts that described the anatomy.  So when I made an attempt at a short erotic story it was like an anatomy lesson. Part A touches part B Then puts C into D and so on. I had 2300 words written when I stopped to read it. I laughed for hours at how funny I sounded. It was like I was in confession trying to explain my sins. Boy do I need a support group.  I decided to scrap that attempt. I’m not going to quit trying. I am determined to get one hot, sweaty sex scene that will pull you in and make you wish you were the one tied to the bed.

Like I said, in my first full length novel I have one sweet love scene. There is heavy petting, even with the description of body parts, yah me. But towards the end we fade to black and I let your imagination finish the rest. Sounds like a copout but it was the best I could do at the time. I decided it was time to come, (no pun intended), to terms with my past and take a class in erotic writing and BDSM. I know, I’m jumping in pretty deep and there is a reason. My character, Davis, is a by the book FBI agent with a secret and it has to do with a lot of bondage and an undercover assignment that will take him to the dark areas of a life no one knows he has. I know, you’re all laughing thinking I will need a ghost writer for that one.  It was not my idea, it was his. We all know our characters write their own story, or do they?

Did you ever have a problem writing a scene, and if so what was it and what did you do to work past it?

I think someone should write a book called…Writing erotic for dummies. I learn better with a little guidance and a lots of pictures.

My new release, Rescued from the Dark, published through Black Opal Books.

FBI agent, Jason Michaels goes undercover with the Irish Mob to get information on their gun smuggling ring. While on assignment he realizes they have joined forces with a known terrorist group manufacturing drugs. He searches for information to tie the two together when he finds out they have kidnapped a fellow agent, and the only girl he has ever loved. Jason soon realizes their using Mercy to perfect their dosage and that his cover has been blown. He knows he has to save her so takes off on a  journey that will take him up against his enemies, peers and the Agency that he loves, but willing to give up to bring Mercy back to him.

She has no memory of their love…

Kidnapped by terrorists and sent into a drug-induced coma, FBI intern Mercedes Kingsley awakes with no memory of her ordeal—or the intimate interlude that left her pregnant. Convinced her child was fathered by her fiancé, she walks away from the only man she has ever loved, determined to make things work with her ex, a man the FBI suspects is implicated in her abduction.

He knows the truth, but no one will listen…

FBI undercover agent Jason Michaels remembers what Mercy can’t and those memories are breaking his heart. Forced to keep his distance from his lover and their unborn child, Jason risks his life to protect Mercy from a cell of international terrorists who have vowed to get the secrets locked in her memory, no matter the cost. Can Jason convince Mercy to trust him until she remembers their past, or will he lose her to a man who will trap her in a nightmare world of darkness for which there is no escape?

An explosion ricocheted behind Jason Michael’s eyes as the pressure mounted in his head. The rush of panic consumed him. He struggled to move, tried to swallow, but nothing. His throat burned as the flames engulfed his lungs. He needed to breathe but couldn’t. Shit. He strained to make out the muffled voice, but the pounding in his ears erased all hope. His head started to spin and he succumbed to the realization, this was it, the end. He won. The flames dampened and his heartbeat slowed as the drums subsided, then the voice became clear.

“Give it to him now you son of a bitch. What were you thinking? We still need him.” Read the rest of this entry »

Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

 The older I get, the more I believe we live a life of self-fulfilling prophecies.

I grew up with grandparents who used to quote from the old version of the King James Bible (Proverbs 23:7):  “As you think, so shall ye be.” I thought the idea was a bunch of hooey at the time. More and more, I find I use goal visualization as an essential part of daily living. Visualization is how I stay focused while writing and marketing.

Here’s how I do it. I create in my mind’s eye the result I want to accomplish. I then decide on the “baby” steps needed to get to the goal. I’ve learned to be patient and wait for the process to work itself out. I use these visualizations to keep stress off my shoulders. With specific goals in mind and taking the steps needed to reach the goal, I can’t ask more of myself. No need to stress out.

At some point, I started wondering how I could use “self-fulfilling prophecy” in a love story where my heroine wants to find an ideal mate. One thing I decided right off was that, if she is what she thinks, she can’t obsess over all the wrongs done to her by men. To obsess would fill her mind with everything she doesn’t want to happen. According to the self-fulfilling prophecy, those obsessions would come true.

She’d instead have to look for all the things she loves about men and decide which of those she’d like rolled into one “ideal” male. My heroine’s biggest challenge would be to stay focused on that “ideal” male package and not let contradictory, negative thoughts interfere—whether from her past, her friends and family or from the media. Negativity would bounce her out of her vision. Her eyes would be blinded so she wouldn’t be able to recognize her ideal man if he was in front of her nose.

Years ago I read that it takes ten positive thoughts to wipe out one negative thought. I made a commitment to be as optimistic about my writing goals as I can be and not have waste time overcoming those negative thoughts.

In the novel, despite the passage of time, staying positive and focused on what she wants would be my character’s biggest challenge. Sadly, I never wrote the novel, but I did start using visualization in my own life.

For example, if I’m giving a talk on writing techniques, I don’t think of all the things that can go wrong. I think instead of what I want the audience to get out of the talk. If I assign a writing goal to myself as I go to bed, I don’t wake up in the morning and go over a list of things in my head that could go wrong and get in the way of accomplishing that goal. I wake up focused on the goal and believing I can accomplish it. In most cases, this turns out to be true.

Of course, sometimes life gets in the way. I then re-align the goal and re-focus. What I don’t do is whine about how something always gets in the way. That’s self-defeating. If I did that while believing in a self-fulfilling prophecy, that’s how my day would end up–something would always be getting in the way. Instead, I focus on my adjusted goal and keep striving ahead, not fretting that there is still a lot of road to travel.

Optimism must work. I have a contract in hand on my fifth manuscript. With this sale, I will have sold every manuscript I’ve ever written.

I recommend optimism, visualization and staying focused on the goal no matter what you do in life.

What about you? How do you achieve your goals?

JoAnn Smith Ainsworth

MATILDA’S SONG (ISBN: 978-1-60504-195-7)
OUT OF THE DARK (ISBN: 978-1-60504-277-0)
POLITE ENEMIES (ebook ISBN: 978-1-61160-636-2) release Sept. 2013
THE FARMER AND THE WOOD NYMPH (ebook ISBN: 978-1-61160-660-7) release Dec. 2013
https://www.joannsmithainsworth.com/

Visit JoAnn Ainsworth on Facebook and Twitter.

Duty requires sacrifice…but the heart will not be denied.

At the time, pretending marriage to her middle-aged widower cousin seemed like the best way to escape a politically motivated betrothal to a brutal knight. Now, her journey toward a new life has landed her in hot water—she’s been waylaid by a local Norman baron who’s mistaken her for a real bride. And he demands First Night rights.

Hot water turns to steam in a scalding night of passion…passion she has never known. And now must live without.

Lord Geoffrey is entranced at first sight of the Anglo-Saxon beauty and finds that one night in her arms is not nearly enough. But all he can offer the low-born Matilda is a life in the shadows—as his mistress.

Her head warring with her heart, Matilda resigns herself to her duty in a masquerade of a marriage. It’s a choice that could cost her life.

For the knight who first sought her hand is back with murder on his mind. Now it’s Geoff who’s faced with the ultimate choice: which is more precious…his estates or the love of the one woman who can heal his soul?

Warning:  Warning, this title contains the following: a Norman baron who teaches an Anglo-Saxon beauty the medieval mambo in the bedroom. Men fight to the death for this lady’s honor. Read the rest of this entry »

My first novel, ILLICIT IMPULSE, comes out this week from Ellora’s Cave. It’s the story of a neuroscientist, his best friend, her friend with benefits, and some no-strings-attached fun. I had the devil’s own time getting the book finished, but I finally got The Call (in my case, actually, it was The Email) just before Thanksgiving. The journey from The Call to release has been surprisingly brief.

It’s amazing how quickly things move once you finish the book.

My trip to publication really began when I won the Passionate Reads Pitch Contest in February 2011. When I got my first chapters ready to enter in late 2010, I was coming off a tough breakup and really just needed to occupy my time between boyfriends. I didn’t have the whole manuscript ready, but that didn’t worry me very much. The contest didn’t require entrants to have the entire manuscript, and honestly, I was in it mostly for the experience.

I received lots of advice to have the manuscript complete anyway. None of those people would explain to me *why* the manuscript had to be finished, though, especially when the contest didn’t require it. I can be a stubborn person. I am open to advice, as long as it comes with an explanation. Otherwise it looks a lot like direction. I resist direction.

Now I understand why the manuscript has to be finished first, so I can offer you the same advice, along with an explanation.

After I won the contest, the judge, who is now my editor, requested the full manuscript. I explained that I didn’t have much more than she’d already seen. She said she understood – the contest had not required a complete manuscript anyway – and she said she’d wait to see the whole thing. She also specifically told me to take as long as I needed to get the rest of the book ready to submit.

That took just short of two years. I thank my editor for her endless patience in the acknowledgments. She waited for a long time and had to tell me more than once to take as much time as I needed.

But it didn’t have to end this way. Sure, there’s the obvious possibility that your editor might not be as patient as mine is, but there are at least three other excellent reasons not to wait to get your book submitted.

First, there’s that sick feeling of not being finished. Even knowing that someone was willing to wait as long as I needed, I had to face the reality that I wasn’t finished every single day for a pretty long time. That’s just not a pleasant feeling. The oppressive weight of the unfinished project lifts, well, as soon as you finish.

Then, there’s the reality that change is the only constant in the universe. I knew that my publishing house probably wasn’t going anywhere, but there was nothing to stop my editor from leaving. (Not that she would. But she *could.*) If the only person waiting for my manuscript changed jobs or retired or for whatever reason became unavailable, I’d have big problems! There wasn’t any guarantee that any of her successors would be enthusiastic about my book or that my editor would be able to take it with her to her next job. I’d have ended up in limbo, and worse, it would have been my fault.

Finally, let’s say that the publishing house is stable and my editor stays put … but someone with a completed manuscript similar to mine gets her submission in first. There’s no sound business reason for a publisher to hang on to the promise of a book when a real book is available, all other things being equal. The safest alternative was to secure my place with a finished product.

Having said all this, I won that contest with just the three chapters and now I’m an author with my first choice of publishing houses despite the fact that my editor had to wait for years to see my completed manuscript. So I imagine you can take my substantiated advice with a grain of salt.

I just wouldn’t use the whole shaker.

Years of research have led neuroscientist John March to the creation of Impulse, an experimental drug that suppresses the bonding hormone, oxytocin, and would allow women to enjoy sex without commitment. Now he just needs a test subject who’s willing to put Impulse through its paces, a woman who’s not afraid to indulge all her sexual desires and then go on record with her experiences. He needs a woman like his best friend, Grace. She and her boy toy could solve all John’s problems. If only he didn’t want her for himself …

Grace Foley’s dreams have just come true. Her sex-without-strings arrangement with Tal Crusoe has started to feel a bit complicated. Thanks to Impulse, Grace can keep things friendly while making the most of Tal’s abundant benefits. Too bad she can’t have John, too. She’s aching for a little experimentation of her own with the sexy scientist. But once it’s over, could they ever go back to being friends?

How far will two best friends go under the influence of Impulse?

Buy Book

Hello everyone! Thanks to the lovely Delilah for hosting me, yet again.

  In February I got to see the release of my second Taboo line book from Ellora’s Cave. If you’re unfamiliar with that particular line, it features BDSM or kink interest romance books. Collar Me in Paris is the follow up to my December release, Bound with Pearls. Both of these books are firmly in the kinky realm of interest, but Collar Me in Paris is a little different, so I figured I’d tell you the top five reasons why this book rocks and you should read it.

5) The entire book is a drive-by of Paris. I got to use all of my pictures and experiences from my vacation in 2011 to write the tiny details that make the book “real” for the reader. And not everyone will get the chance to visit Paris, so why not enjoy my trip?

4) Collar Me in Paris is about a married couple. I’ll admit, I wrote it for a themed call from Ellora’s Cave that celebrates married couples who keep the fire going, but the characters had their start before that. You first see this couple in Bound with Pearls, where they captivated me and made me want to be their friend. I so had to write about them, and the trials, joys and hardships of what being married means to them.

3) It’s a race! For anyone who has seen or is a fan of The Amazing Race, this book was spawned by that show. My mom and I tried out for it ages ago and almost made it on it. I’ve always wanted to do something with the idea of a race just because I can be pretty competitive. And what would make it more interesting then tossing in some family, a little kink appeal and some sexy times?

2) Sex in non-traditional locations. Okay, this is a destination book. As in the couple goes away from home and when you’re on vacation you tend to be a little more adventurous. So why not bring the sexy action out of the bedroom? This couple is all about doing it where they might be caught.

1) This is a BDSM heavy book, but one thing about this book that’s a little different is that in the power exchange dynamic between the couple, it’s the wife, Bianca, who is the Dominant. At least where the couple has agreed that she’s in charge. I really loved writing this dynamic. Just because the wife is the Dominant role in their power exchange, it doesn’t mean that the husband, Clay, is a doormat. I got to write a super hot, strong, confident man who is also comfortable saying that he likes his wife on top. What’s not to love about a man that adores his wife that much?

That’s my top five reasons why I think everyone should read Collar Me in Paris. It’s a fun book and I’ve really enjoyed putting it out there for people to read.

Is there any TV show out there that you think could be an interesting setting or premise for a romance book?

It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Collar Me in Paris is available now from Ellora’s Cave | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

What begins as Clay’s first family vacation with his new wife quickly dives into disaster. He may be the submissive in their relationship, but he’s no shy violet. Bianca has taught him the quickest way to turn her on is a challenge, so he’s throwing down the gauntlet.

Bianca butts heads with not just her brothers but her husband when the family torturing begins. But the joke is on him. She’s ready to put him through the most erotic misery of all. In public, at a night club and all over the city, she’ll show him who is Dominant in their relationship until he’s screaming for more.

Their relaxing Paris vacation turns into a mad dash through the ancient streets, a competition of wills and a new exploration of what it takes to make their relationship work. From bondage, discipline and very public orgasms to navigating the Métro, family feuds and overcoming the language barrier, they’re going to redefine the word fun.

Clay’s  feet squicked inside his tennis shoes. For all of a second he felt guilty for tracking mud and God only knew what else into the apartment, but someone had thoughtfully laid out newspaper and cardboard. Other, equally filthy shoes were lined up, as well as a few articles of clothing too soiled to wear any farther. He toed his shoes off and left them in the foyer. Bianca slammed the door shut and didn’t bother with removing her sneakers. She stomped down the hall to the tune of her family’s laughter and ignored their calls.

Today had not gone well.

That was an understatement.

It had been a wreck.

“There you are!”

“Hey, thought you guys would never make it in.”

“About time you showed up.”

The teasing jibes kept coming as Bianca passed the living room and stormed to their suite.

She was beyond angry.

Angry was a fire ant army out to take a pound of flesh.

Bianca was beyond that. Furious, enraged, those words fit her better, and he didn’t think he had it in him to care anymore. He’d changed from the sub he’d been three years ago who had no limits. He had them now, and being used as an emotional punching bag all day was a yard too far.

Clay paced slowly into the fray. The scent of stale water and excrement clung to his clothing. The sense of accomplishment from having completed the day’s challenges was dampened by the knowledge the rest of her family had finished in half the time and probably with a lot more cooperation from their spouses.

Kevin glanced up from the TV where the brothers were currently engaged in what appeared to be the latest multiplayer shooter game. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Unlike his wife, their razing didn’t bother him. Who were they to him? Her family. Not his.

“Seriously, what took you guys so long?” Michael didn’t divert his attention from the action. He even managed to snag a handful of popcorn and shove it in his mouth without breaking stride.

A random assortment of snack foods littered the coffee table—cheese, crackers, chips, some cookies and even a bottle of wine. The empty plates attested to there being even more to offer at one time.

There was enough there to feed several people. Despite being exhausted, he itched to pack some of the food away.

Jason’s voice broke his concentration. “We missed you guys at dinner. Everything okay?” Unlike his brothers, Jason had paused the game and turned toward him. Michael and Kevin grumbled, but took the opportunity to shovel yet more food in their mouths.

“Yeah, took us longer than you guys. Where are the girls?” He glanced at the kitchen, but still no one.

“They went out shopping or to a show or something,” Michael replied and restarted the game.

The game ramped up and the three brothers began a flurry of attacking something. He’d never understood the appeal of video games, but he hadn’t been exposed to them until he was in high school, and by then other things had taken on more importance. Like finding an after-school job so he could have shoes without holes and jeans that fit.

He shuddered as a chill crept down his spine from the clinging, cold clothing and shook off the nervous tic as well. He’d left those days behind. “How did you guys get into the catacombs so fast? We waited almost two hours.”

Kevin snorted. “Oh fuck waiting.”

“We don’t wait, man. We offer the first people in line fifty bucks and skip the wait.” Michael glanced at him. “You didn’t seriously wait, did you?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, yeah we did.”

“Sucks to be you.” Michael laughed and focused on the game.

“Hey, do you want join in? We probably have a spare controller around here somewhere,” Jason offered.

“No thanks. I’m going to clean up. Tromping through those sewers was gross.”

He left the living room to a chorus of laughter, maybe directed at him or the game, he didn’t care.

Bianca had known her brothers would bribe and do whatever it took to win. That was their way and she hadn’t told him. He’d waited in line for two fucking hours while she gave him the silent treatment. They could have been strategizing, discussing how they wanted to play, learning the rules. But no. He had no way of playing with a full deck if she didn’t confide in him.

They were supposed to be a team.

A fucking team.

He pushed the door to the suite open and slammed it behind him. If she could slam doors, so could he.

Bianca jumped but did not turn around from where she stood at the foot of the bed. This was not the way things were supposed to be between them. Sure, B called the shots and he was comfortable in his role as her husband and submissive. He did not play the role of a carpet to be walked upon.

He ignored the instinct to kneel at the door, to wait for Bianca to present the collar and slip his necklace off. His knees tried to buckle, but he locked them in place. Instead he began removing his jacket and peeling off his shirt. Read the rest of this entry »

The Neighbors from Hell

Once before, on my own blog, I talked about my creepy redneck neighbors. The ones who built a huge bonfire in their backyard a day or two after they moved in, backed a pickup truck up to their fence, and danced in the bed to music blaring from the radio. They disturbed the entire neighborhood and nearly caught the pine trees on fire. I should’ve known living next to them would be hell.

The folks who’d lived there before (and built the house) had kept the place spotless. They were quiet and unassuming, and never made a fuss. I wish they’d never left, because for the next seven years, cars and trucks came and went at all hours of the day and night. Made me suspicious about what the new neighbors were doing. They enclosed the garage right after moving in, and more people showed up with boxes of belongings. I had no idea who actually lived there, and who was just visiting. One time, what looked like a whole family moved out, and then several other people moved in. Talk about confusing…

The neighbors weren’t very friendly, either. I never knew their last name/s, even though I introduced myself a time or two. They basically ignored us, and we ignored them—despite the junk and old cars parked all over their lawn. They once parked a trailer containing a truck someone had fixed up next to their house and left it there for weeks. Then they left a broken washing machine in the same place for months before hauling it away, and later did the same thing with an enormous old style big screen TV. Car parts and tires littered the ground around it.

Then year or two ago, they bought a four-wheeler and rode it fast up and down the street and all around their backyard, turning it into a mud pit suitable for pigs. They started driving their trucks back there, too, mud riding around the pine trees and spinning in crazy circles.

By then, we lived in the city—the newest city in Mississippi, to be exact (at least for a while)—and unfortunately for us, since the city was so new, the aldermen hadn’t yet enacted any ordinances. Once they did, I complained about the rednecks, as did the rest of the folks on my street. By then, we were all outdone with their insane antics and all night free-for-alls. The city sent them certified letter after certified letter, but kept sending them to the wrong address. Took ’em a while to get it right.

A short while later, the rednecks took their toys and moved someplace else. I have no idea where they went, and frankly, I don’t care. They left the house and yard a wreck, of course—and left the side door wide open. We poked our heads inside and nearly got sick. The place reeks! They had kept two huge dogs inside, and I figure they let the animals have the run of the place. Garbage is strewn around in every room, and they even tore out some of the nasty carpet, leaving only the concrete slab, and threw the carpet and pad in the backyard. Such a lovely addition to the trash heap already out there.

We found out later the bank has foreclosed on the house but now can’t find the idiots so they can complete the paperwork. The city is waiting to take action as well. We need them to get it all straight so they can change the locks and clean up the place. IMHO, they’ll have to gut it and start over from the studs up. Just hauling off all the trash from the yard will take a huge dump truck.  We’ve had to call the cops several times since they moved out because the door won’t lock and keeps blowing open. Either that, or animals or people are going inside. The idea creeps me out.

Have you ever had neighbors you wanted to send packing? Please tell me your horror stories about creepy neighbors.

My book coming out next month isn’t about redneck neighbors, but it does center around a villain nobody would want in their neighborhood. The book is called Blood Bound, and it isn’t for the faint of heart. Hope you’ll check it out!

Blurb:

Fueled by grief after his fiancée is brutally murdered, Detective Sam Walker focuses on finding her killer — a calculating predator who binds books with human skin.  Dani Barrington, the newest member of NOPD’s Victim and Witness Assistance Unit and a survivor of another frightening attack, helps him discover the terrifying link between the monster’s known victims.  Despite his anguish, Sam is struck by Dani’s strength and determination, especially when her inquisitive  nature makes her the killer’s next target.  He must find a way to protect her or risk losing the one woman who can bring his dead heart back to life.

Excerpt:

Kristen was gone. She wasn’t at work; she wasn’t at home. She hadn’t gone out to run an errand. She had simply… vanished.

New Orleans Detective Sam Walker stood in the center of his fiancée’s cluttered bedroom and struggled to piece together the timeline of her disappearance. Last night, they were supposed to meet for dinner, but he had caught a case. They’d talked on the phone around eleven, and he’d asked her to meet him for lunch today. He hadn’t spoken to her since.

She was supposed to arrive at the Victim and Witness Assistance Unit for work at nine o’clock is morning, but she’d never made it. One of her co-workers had called him about ten, and he’d tried Kristen again, but she hadn’t answered.

So he’d come here and found her car in the driveway.

Yet she sure as hell wasn’t here. Her bed was meticulously made, the way she left it every morning, dumping him out if he’d stayed over. A damp towel lay beside the bathroom sink. Soulful jazz drifted from the iPod dock on her nightstand. What terrified him most, though, was the spot of blood marring the door frame and the lone pink sandal lying in the living room floor beside her purse, keys, and cell phone.

His heart lurched. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Simply could not absorb that she was missing. They’d been engaged for five months and three days, with only a month to go until the wedding. They should be mulling over the guest list, squabbling about which hotel to pick for their honeymoon, and deciding where they wanted to live.

Instead, Sam stared at an empty bed.

“There’s no sign of forced entry, so she either let the guy in or he jumped her when she went after the paper this morning.” Major Sabbatini’s voice seemed to come from far away. “I’m thinking she fought him off and ran, and he caught her here in the bedroom.”

“She would have clawed him.” Hell, she would’ve drawn blood with those nails. Sam should know. He had the marks on his back to prove it. Moisture blurred his vision as he eyed the smudge on the door jamb. “She… she just had her nails done a couple of days ago. They’re like talons.”

“We’ll check that blood for DNA. You know that. What were her plans for today?”

“Um… just work, far as I know. She and I were supposed to have lunch.” Sam shook his head. “Then tonight, she was going to a wedding shower. I just—”

“When was the last time you spoke with her?”

“Late last night.” Sam’s eyes fell on a partially filled mug on the table beside Kristen’s favorite chair, where she liked to read, and a hard knot formed in the center of his chest. “She didn’t… didn’t… even finish her coffee. She loves coffee.”

“We’re gonna find her, son.”

“You don’t know that.” Sam’s voice cracked. He turned to his boss. “What if I never see her again?”

Many thanks to Delilah for having me over at her blog today!

I tell you, being an author is hard work. No, it is. If you think of an author’s brain like a bucket, it makes sense.

To write a book, you have to pour the words out of the writer’s brain, like water from a bucket. Sometimes you can pour it really fast, and sometimes there’s legos and cookies and whole people who block the flow. Sometimes your arms just can’t hold the bucket. Sometimes the bucket is empty. And sometimes the bucket is full of beer and all you want to do is stand on your head and drown in it.

The bucket empties sometimes. In the middle of a book, usually. At times like that, you have two choices. Choice one, you can try to refill your bucket. You can grab a new book, watch a movie, or play a video game. The idea is to immerse yourself in someone else’s storytelling. By losing yourself in someone else’s words, it sometimes makes it easier to make words of your own. Feeding the muse so she can work.

But if your bucket runs out and your deadline looms, you have only one alternative.

You have to bore a hole in the bottom of your bucket, and pour your body and soul right through it. You have to dig deep, throw in everything you’ve got. It’s not easy. It hurts like hell. But it’s the only way to get things done in time. And it also can produce some of the most raw and important writing you’ll ever do.

Readers can tell when you pour your soul into a book. That’s not to say that muse-fueled words aren’t awesome, because they are. But that seasoning of desperation can flavor your book, like a good sear on a steak. Of course, sometimes you leave it too long and that sear turns to burn. The key is to find balance, and to get things done the best way you can.

In my latest book, CAUGHT IN CRIMSON, Delia learns a little something about leaving things a bit too late. As a red witch, she has to have a consort, especially now that she’s being tapped as her coven’s High Priestess. But it’s not as easy as just putting down her head and barreling through things, especially with a sexy man standing in her way.

Do you have something to do that you just can’t finish? Is it a brain-bucket issue, or something more like Delia’s facing? Let me know in the comments below!

Thanks for reading!

How I Wrote a 100k Word Novel in a Month

First I want to thank Delilah for having me here today. I’m in the middle of my blog tour promoting the latest book in my Woods Family Series, Surrounded by Secrets, so I want to take this opportunity to focus on something a little different from paranormal erotic romance. Not that I don’t enjoy talking about hot sex—I mean c’mon, who doesn’t? What I want to talk about now is my writing style. If you want info on how to get a free paranormal erotic romance, skip to the bottom. If you are interested in becoming a writer (or a better one) but don’t think you have the time to write a novel, keep reading.

If the truth be told, I wrote three, 100k word novels in three consecutive months while working fulltime as an IT analyst and maintaining my motherly duties. How? The concept is simple, really. Time management…but more on that later. It’s the execution that isn’t as easily identified. I studied writing in college and got my hands on as many books on the craft of writing as I could. I devised my own way of story development by pulling from various sources. Two of the most influential to my style today include Syd Field’s screenwriting books—yes, as in how to write screenplays for movies—and the Snowflake Method.

Why did I study screenplays if I wanted to write fiction? Easy. I love watching movies. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve figured out the end of a movie before others, and if my theories weren’t successful, then half the time I felt my mental conclusion was better than the actual one. I am a visual person, and Field’s method plays on that by utilizing a three act structure. I apply this during my brainstorming phase. I draw a line on a piece of paper and mark the three acts, the plot point that throws the story into the second act, the plot point that throws the story into the third act, what happens mid way through the story and the major conflicts that occur in Act II. When I am finished with my brainstorming, I not only know how the story is going to start and end, but also most of the major points. The set-up, confrontation, and resolution are all plotted. Here’s the link to Field’s paradigm.

A very high level explanation to the Snowflake Method is you start with a one sentence summary of your book, expand it to a paragraph, expand that to a one page synopsis, and then expand that to a four page synopsis. It also advises you when to write character bios and how to take the four page synopsis and outline every scene in your book. Yes, every scene. I’ve played around with this, and not every step is for me. However, I do outline every scene in my book before I start writing. There’s a constant debate on whether authors should outline or not. Rather than it stifling my creativity, I feel it allows my muse the freedom to shine when I’m actually drafting my novel. Do I always stick to my outline? No. But when I outline, I see if a scene isn’t going to work before I start writing it or move it around so the story will flow better. If my characters demand I go a different way when I’m actually drafting, I listen to them. The outline is more of a guide, not written in stone. But when I know what comes next, I can keep on writing and not face as many (if any) blocks. Here’s a link that explains this process more.

What worked for another author doesn’t work for me, and what works for me might not work for you. The point is you should take what works best for you and apply it to your writing style. It doesn’t take more than a couple of days for me to outline my books when applying these techniques—and less than one day if said book is a novella. When I wrote those three books mentioned, I had daily goals during the workweek of 3,000 words and weekend daily goals of 5,000 words, which I not only met but exceeded since I’d taken the time to do the legwork before I began drafting. Nowadays, I have less stringent goals since my time is shared between writing, editing, and promoting, but the key here is to plan and set goals. You’d be surprised just how creative you can be even when you’re organized.

And now for the freebie! My publisher is offering book one in my Woods Family Series, Surrounded by Woods, for free on all major retailers. Get your free copy while you can!

And during my tour, I have a contest going where one winner will receive a $100 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card. Visit my Facebook Fan Page for deets!