Dying is easy. Comedy is difficult.

Does this saying have the ring of truth? Hell yeah! But I haven’t died (yet), so it’s subjective.

I dabble in humor writing the way a minimalist dips their brush into paint. As a rule, less is more. A smattering works, but a heavy hand can overwhelm the artistic aesthetic.

My humor articles appear on my blog, The Snarkology, at infrequent intervals. Imagine Erma Bombeck Uncensored. (Yes, I talk about SEX.)

I try to bring The Funny to all of my books, but the potential for humor being lost in translation is vast. For instance, my current Work in Progress is an erotic space opera called Viking Love Slave.

The logline sums it up:  Viking gods getting it on with nubile love slaves… In Space.

The story contains a lot of lighthearted elements, but I’m discovering those must be presented thoughtfully or I risk my true intention (getting laughs) of being lost in translation. This has been especially evident as the book entered its first developmental editing round. I’m working with a new editor who has identified a purposefully humorous scene as being too melodramatic.

One of the hardest things an author does in the pursuit of good storytelling is balancing their editor’s advice against gut instinct.  Writers have big egos so accepting guidance can be difficult.  This creates conflict, which is great between protagonists and their counterparts. Maybe not so much in a professional relationship that depends upon cooperation for productivity.

Allow me to divert into a cautionary tale to illustrate…

I have an editor-friend who is a reformed Langolier. (She has pointy teeth but only eats kittens on Thursdays.) When we talk, she sometimes brings up a problematic author at her job that consistently reduces the editorial staff to ripping their hair out at the roots. We shall call this special needs author “Debby Diva” for the sake of discretion.

Debby Diva has “a voice” which is utterly unique to her. She is a special snowflake in the literary blizzard. It doesn’t matter whether her editor says her prose sucks or can’t be understood. Obviously, it’s on the reader to invest the time and effort to decipher Debby’s intent. If they fail, they aren’t trying hard enough.

I don’t want to be Debby Diva, and neither do you.

So what am I to say to my VLS editor when I don’t agree with her assessment? Yes, the prose is purple but it’s deliberately purple. And no, the entire story isn’t written in that style, because that would be too much. The joke is only funny to a point, and then you’ve taken it too far.

My best defense, perhaps, is the Are Readers Laughing? Test. The assessment pivots upon whether I can show the scene to a reader and get a good laugh. A giggle allows me to justify the style to my editor as genuinely humorous. A groan sends me back to the drawing board.

So you tell me. Does the scene below make you giggle or groan?

I’ll provide a free ebook copy of any title from my backlist to a randomly chosen commenter. (Excluding the Alphas Gone Wild box set.)

Viking Love Slave

The day she planned to kill a man, she wore an underbust corset that lifted her full breasts so high her nipples threatened to burst from the neckline of her servant’s frock. Prior to assuming her assassin’s duties, she spent hours bathing, polishing, and preparing every square inch of her body in anticipation of her first murder, as nervous as a bride on her wedding night. Even having been warned not to do anything to attract undo attention, Tierwyn couldn’t stand the thought that she wouldn’t look spectacular.

Better to risk arrest and execution.

Hefting a platinum tray of raw oysters, Tierwyn edged closer to the table. King Methedon of Alfheim dined with his guests at a long, rectangular table that ran through the center of the grand room. Prime Minister Seniormost Fussi Pantaloons sat to the king’s left. Crown Prince Thor of the Asgard Star Empire occupied the place of honor to the king’s right, and to Thor’s right was his advisor, Loki.

Word of the Asgard space fleet’s arrival had spread like quicksilver through the capitol. Nobles bedecked in jewels and finery filled the great hall to capacity. They represented the wealthiest and most prestigious members of the peerage.

Nervous tremors ran through her slender frame as she lowered the platter, aiming for an empty area between the visiting dignitaries. As she extended her arms, black-haired Loki tilted his head toward her. He bestowed a flirtatious wink and a smile upon the elf maiden, followed by a sharp pinch upon her posterior.

“Oh!” An indignant cry escaped her startled lips. Tierwyn fumbled and the tray of shellfish tilted perilously toward the royal lap.

“I’ll take those before you wind up wearing them.” Loki smoothly reached across Thor and removed the tray before the oysters completed their journey. In the process of helping, Loki’s elbow just happened to collide with Tierwyn’s hip, destroying what remained of her balance.

“Oh no!” Flapping her arms, Tierwyn tilted off-balance so her face descended toward the Crown Prince’s crotch. Gasping in shock, her eyes widened and her breath exploded from her lungs in a gust as she caught her first glimpse of the epic protuberance. His skin-taut stretchy pants appeared prepared to burst.

Great Gonads! The crown jewels must be enormous! Could the Asgard prince be wearing an insert? Sweet Goddess, she quivered with ecstatic giddiness, torn between curiosity and terror of the truth.

Swooning eagerly toward her dire fate, Tierwyn uttered a groan of disappointment when strong hands caught her at the last moment. Her thighs quivered in primal reaction to the powerful fingers encircling her upper limbs. Sighing, she gazed with longing and disappointment after the destiny denied her. To her great sorrow, his bulge receded from proximity with her face as he lifted her.

*~*~*~*

Viking Love Slave will be released in Spring 2016. To receive notification of Melissa Snark’s new releases, subscribe to her newsletter at: https://www.melissasnark.com/mailing-list/  You’ll receive a free ebook just for joining.

Author Bio:

Author Melissa Snark lives in the San Francisco bay area with her husband, three children, and a glaring of litigious felines. She reads and writes fantasy and romance, and is published with The Wild Rose Press & Nordic Lights Press. She is a coffeeoholic, chocoholic, and a serious geek girl. Her Loki’s Wolves series stems from her fascination with wolves and mythology.

• She blogs about books and writing on https://www.thesnarkology.com/.
  Visit her website at https://www.melissasnark.com/.
• Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelissaSnark
• Follow her on Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0076EEQIU
• Follow her on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MelissaSnark
• Email: MelissaSnark at gmail.com

• Subscribe to her newsletter: https://www.melissasnark.com/mailing-list/

UPDATE: The winner of this prize is…Toni Whitmire!

* * * * *

I love lists. So here’s one for you—

Reasons to grab a copy of Warlord’s Destiny now…

1) Do you love your warriors tall, well-muscled and with stamina to spare? Duh, right? Do you love a heroine with grit who’s not society’s notion of what’s perfect and beautiful? Someone you can relate to? Do you love it when a strong woman brings a proud warrior to his knees? Then you will love the hero and heroine of this book!

2) Do you love off-world, futuristic fantasy and medieval knights tales? How about a book that is both? Yeah, I was supposed to write a futuristic tale, but my hero kept insisting he was more Ragnar Lodbrok than Luke Skywalker. And since Ragnar is sexy as hell, I let my Lord Tetrik transform into my version of the perfect erotic romance hero…

3) Do you love a good orgy? I saw your eyes bug at that one. Six participants with all those sexy moving parts? For me, this was the most challenging scene in the book. How do you keep it fun and sexy and not confusing? If you’re curious, you have to get this book!

4) Right now, the price for this 21,000-word novella is just $0.99! Kindle Unlimited customers have a little longer to enjoy a great deal—they can get it for free for the next three months. But if you aren’t a KU subscriber, that $0.99 price isn’t going to last long! Grab your copy now!

Answer any of the questions I just posed for a chance
to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

And just a side note: If you enjoy the story, how about leaving a review? Somewhere. Or tell a friend. I appreciate everything you do! ~DD

“…In Delilah Devlin’s WARLORD’S DESTINY, a strong man is brought to his knees by an equally strong woman. Interesting, attractive personalities make this read especially powerful.”  ~Nominee for Best Paranormal Erotic Novel of 2005 by Romantic Times BookClub Magazine! TOP PICK! 4 1/2 Stars, RT BOOKreviews 

“Watching these two grow is both amusing and touching… I found Warlord’s Destiny to be a very well-written novel, and ultimately a very entertaining story to read.” ~Book Review Network

Mora has no illusions she’s anything other than the sacrificial lamb to ensure peace between her peace-loving planet and the warlike world that demands a royal union with one of their own. However, when she meets the rugged warlord who will be her husband, Mora decides in that moment to win his heart–she’ll settle for nothing less.

When Lord Tetrik suspects his wife harbors tender feelings, he wonders if he can be the husband she desires. After all, love for a woman is a frivolous thing–and not a warlord’s destiny.

Warning: Readers should beware. Wedding customs on other planets do not resemble tender newlywed customs on Earth! Expect a smidge of voyeurism and a 6-person ménage. And yes, a Kronaki warlord’s bed is built large enough for just such an event!

Purchase at Amazon  

So, that’s what Kronaki warriors look like!

Every story ever whispered about the fearsome warriors came rushing back to set Mora’s body trembling. How they fought like ravaging beasts, cutting bloody swaths through Graktilian mercenaries during the war. How they lived in rough, stone fortresses made of blocks carved from their frozen mountains. How they fostered their children to rival clans so they would be raised without gentleness.

How they fucked with such fury their women’s screams echoed throughout their valleys. Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner of one a free shorty from among those stories spinning in my carousel is…Carey Sabala!

* * * * *

It’s Saturday, but I’m up early today. I’m going to a Gelli class at 9 AM with my dd and my mom. What is Gelli you might ask? It’s a printing plate made of this wiggly gel that you brayer on paint, texturize the paint with stencils or your own scribbles, then you place paper over the painted/scribbled-on plate and “pull off” a colorful printed image that you can use in mixed media art. Whew. Taking a breath after that really long sentence! And for most you, what I said didn’t mean a thing. But that’s okay. We’re going to have fun.

What can you do while I’m off playing with Gellis and paint? How about read a naughty story or two. There’s time if the story’s short! And you know what I’m going to talk about now…

I started at the end of January publishing a short story a week in the Kindle store. For Kindle Unlimited subscribers, they are free. For everyone else, they are $0.99. I have all these shorts I’ve written over, and other than grouping them in collections, and publishing them that way, I had no way for you to enjoy them. Until KU made it possible for me to get a little compensation for my effort and a nifty way for readers to “sample my wares.” It’s been fun getting each of these short stories ready for publication. I hope you’ve tried a few. Or if you have a really dead weekend, you could sample them all!

If you’d like to savor the pretty covers, I have a web page devoted to my “shorties.”

Here’s yesterday’s new addition:

The Pleasure in Surrender

After the lady of the keep bars her gates to the barbarian the king commands she wed, the half-Viking knight scales the walls of her heart…

Excerpt:

A draft brushed her face. She’d closed the door and latched the pigskin curtain over her narrow window. A scuff of a foot had her stiffening, but she heard no more above the pounding of her heart. She wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?” she whispered.

“I think you know,” came a deep, rumbling drawl.

She drew a deep breath and came up slowly, scooting to the far side of her bed. Her knife was on her chatelaine’s belt hanging from a peg beside the door. She was weaponless. “My people?”

“Your man Geade surrendered as soon as he realized the keep was overrun. No one was harmed.”

“How?”

“Does it matter? I’ve taken this castle. The only question now is one I want answered: Why did you bar the gates?”

Edwina shivered at his graveled voice. “I was promised time to grieve before I accepted another husband.”

“Alred suspected you would grieve until you were old. Did you really think he would defy the king’s order for you?”

She lifted her chin although she knew the gesture couldn’t be seen—not unless Vikings had eyes like cats. “I expected him to honor his promise. I paid for the privilege.”

“About that—he returned the gold. To me.” His footsteps drew nearer her bed. “But that doesn’t answer the question. Why, Edwina?”

Her mouth grew dry at the rasping texture of his deep voice. She swallowed and set her back against the wall. “I wed once for political expediency. This time, I wanted a choice.”

He remained silent for a long moment. “And yet you have turned away every suitor who approached you.”

“None were worthy.”

“You hold yourself in such high esteem?”

“I worried for my people. Warriors don’t make the best farmers.”

His footsteps scraped closer.

She pressed harder against cold stone.

“I will admit, I’ve little experience with farming. But I understood you were competent. That I could rely on you to teach me.”

He said the words slowly, and she tried to read his intentions in the inflections of his voice. Could he be telling her the truth? Would he allow her to continue as steward of her land? “Are we…negotiating?”

After a long moment, he cleared his throat. “You wed young.”

“I had no choice, but Malcolm was malleable and a drunk. We came to an arrangement that suited us both. I managed the estate. He drank and caroused, spending from a generous budget. We were both satisfied.”

“You managed him and the estate.”

“Yes.”

After a pause, he said, “I’m not malleable. Nor will I be managed.”

She heard the steel in his tone. She forced a derisive note into her own. “I was afraid of that. It’s why I closed the gates and prepared for a siege.”

He strode closer. His large shadow was inky black, ominous. “You do realize this is our wedding night? You are already my wife by the king’s decree. Only consummation awaits.”

Alarm rattled through her. “But there must be a wedding. The banns should be read.”

“No, Edwina. Your resistance ends tonight.”

*~*~*~*~*

The Contest

Hope you enjoyed! Leave an answer to the following question in the comments and you’ll be entered to win a copy of any of the shorties in the Amazon carousel below EXCEPT The Pleasure in Surrender. That one, I hope you’ll purchase on your own!

Are you artistic, or like me, do you wish you were? And like me, do you dabble?

October 4th will come sooner than you think! That’s the date Enslaved by a Viking releases. It’s available for pre-order right now. And if you order early, you will lock in the reduced price of $10.20 (regular price will be $15.00!).

What should you expect from my story? A lushly erotic journey with twenty naked vikings…a brothel where anything goes (and does!)…a battle to end all battles…and a romance that will leave you very, very satisfied. I love this series and want to write more of the stories, but it’s up to you. If you read it and love it and talk it up to your friends so that they buy it, then maybe Berkley will be convinced there’s a demand for more Vikings in Space. In the meantime, enjoy the opening…

His suffering….

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction….

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn’t want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn’t seen the other prisoners, not after they’d been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he’d shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He’d been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he’d been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they’d slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he’d been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He’d wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn’t know if anyone watched him, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he’d even suffer Fatin’s derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.
Read the rest of this entry »