Divine and dangerous

Four weeks to go until the deadline for More Smut for Chocoholics, which I'm editing with the fantabulous Kev Blisse. All the details are at the Smutters website and the deadline is November 25th. Here's the sweet cover Kev's come up with too. It makes me hungry just looking at it. 

Need some inspiration? Here are some chocolate facts:

• Cocoa beans are the seeds inside the fleshy pods of the cocoa tree. So chocolate’s fruit. If you ignore what happens to it after those pods are harvested.
• The cocoa tree was regarded as sacred by the Aztecs and its Latin name Theobroma cacao means ‘food of the gods’.
• But it's West Africa which is now the centre of chocolate production, with 70% of the world's cocoa being grown there.
• Many of today's big confectionery companies were originally set up with Quaker backing, because chocolate was seen as a minor vice that could replace the much more sinful alcohol.
• It can be good for you – particularly dark chocolate – mostly because of the antioxidants it contains. Of course, it also contains large amounts of sugar and fat...
• Chocolate can be addictive because it contains several mood-enhancing chemicals.
• And that could explain why it’s been thought of as an aphrodisiac. In fact, the Aztecs banned women from consuming chocolate, such were its dangerous powers.

Thank you to everyone who's sent in their stories already. Mine's all done and dusted, but I can think of another half a dozen stories or so I could tease out of those facts... And if you're still hungry for more, check out the Divine Chocolate website's fact page.

Review: Dark Secret Love by Alison Tyler

It's my turn to join in the big Dark Secret Love blog tour, with a review of Alison Tyler's novel. For all the blog tour stops and the chance to win a fabulous prize, check out her blog post all about it. Here goes:

So you’ve got kink at first sight (repeatedly), you’ve got a girl swept off her feet by a rich guy with a swanky home, you’ve got the obligatory BDSM club scene. You’ve got plenty of naughty bits simmering away continually throughout the story. A variety of hot men (and another woman), and the heroine’s escape from a life of ‘lights-out, minty-fresh’ sex, before she finds ‘the one’. Not to mention an exploration of the difference between being dominant and being an asshole, and of the nature of the BDSM ‘punishment’ game and what it means to ‘win’ or ‘lose’.

But this is no formula erotic romance with a bit of trendy spanking thrown in. Dark Secret Love is semi-autobiographical, said to be based on Tyler’s private diaries. Which bits are real, which bits embellished, which pure fiction, and what has been left out, the reader cannot know. But the novel has a matter-of-fact realism at its core. Every description of the BDSM elements rings true. Samantha is no cardboard cut-out; she’s a normal, complicated, contradictory woman who knows she’s sexually submissive and knows what she wants from a man. And as her love story develops, so does her life as a writer penning stories of kinky fantasies and further blurring the boundaries between reality and fiction.

The book has a tone of no-nonsense honesty and a fast pace with a terse style. In my notes as I read it, I wrote ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’, for Samantha gets through quite a list of encounters. I also wrote ‘certainly not romanticised (thank fuck!)’ for it is a gritty and sometimes challenging read. But despite its spareness, the novel is bursting with the sort of detail that makes it compelling, keep-you-up-at-night reading. At one point, one of her lovers, Nate, is encouraging her to develop her writing career and he says, ‘Your writing has this sort of breathlessness to it. You can tell there’s a soul behind the words.’ And if Nate says that of Samantha, then I’d say it of Tyler.

Samantha charts her life from high school, concentrating on her search for fulfilment of her kinky sexuality and her development as a writer. She has some fun with a couple of dominant guys before settling down to three messed-up years with Byron. Byron is dominant in all the wrong ways, making Samantha feel she is always a failure, while also making her ashamed of her sexual desires. He is the ‘normal’, socially acceptable guy she thinks she is meant to fall for and settle down with. Fortunately, she breaks free of his cycle of soul-crushing manipulation and gets what she needs from other men, eventually committing to Jack.

Now, here’s a little conundrum I suffered as a reader: I didn’t always like Jack, the hero of the tale. And if this was formula romance, I would not be surprised or particularly perturbed by that. But now I’m worried that it’s a real person I’m not always liking and this throws me into some strange metaphysical paradox because if he's Samantha's happily ever after, then I want to like him. One example of him bothering me is when Jack and Samantha get together for a second time, she is already seeing housemate Nate, who is portrayed as a really decent guy. And Jack gets annoyed because Samantha wants to do the decent thing and explain to Nate what’s happening. To me, it felt like Jack was annoyed at Samantha for having integrity.

But at its heart, that conflict is what you would expect from a realistic story, a possibly real-life story, rather than the erotic romance formula of 'chuck in a conflict for your characters to overcome'. This is a tale of the development of a deeply BDSM relationship between two realistic, complicated people. A relationship that gives the participants nowhere to hide, a relationship in which nothing can be secret and feelings cannot be buried – shame, desire, joy, hurt, jealousy – and in which each partner is laid bare to their core. And that’s a very brave thing to share with the world at all, wherever the text lies on the line from fiction to reality.

I was given a free copy of Dark Secret Love: A Story of Submission to review by publisher Cleis Press. You can buy it in paperback or ebook at Cleis Press, Amazon, and Amazon UK.

Editor's notes: Splice the mainbrace

Today, I'm talking about two common issues with sentence structure: run-on sentences/comma splices and fragments. Now, there is advice out there about these problems. But often, writers don't realise they're even doing it, so I'm going to explain what they mean, how to avoid them, and, in the case of fragments, why you might sometimes want to stick two fingers up to the rules. Fragments in particular are something I use a lot in my own writing, but have learnt to be aware of and use sparingly.

What's a comma splice? She crawled up the bed and positioned herself over him, her hair brushing his face, she was ready for him. 

The second comma is where the splice occurs. The first is okay, because 'her hair brushing his face' could not stand alone. To stand alone it would have to say: Her hair brushed his face. There'll be some fancy name for it, but, get this, I don't know that fancy name. I went to school in the eighties and although I know what's correct and what isn't, I don't always know the names for these things. I'm hoping I can make this admission now, four posts into my 'Editor's notes' series without entirely undermining my credibility... Maybe it's got something to do with gerunds. Anyway, 'she was ready for him' is a complete sentence with subject, verb and object. So you can't just split it from what has gone before with a comma. You need a semi-colon, if it's very closely related to what has preceded it. Otherwise, you need to finish the first part with a full stop and start a new sentence. 

She crawled up the bed and positioned herself over him, her hair brushing his face; she was ready for him. 
or
She crawled up the bed and positioned herself over him, her hair brushing his face. She was ready for him. 

What's a fragment? He made the proposal over a bottle of whisky. Which may have had something to do with us agreeing to it. Now that I think about it. Soberly.

The second, third and fourth sets of words which start with a capital letter and end with a full stop are all fragments. They are only pretending to be sentences. To be strictly correct, the one beginning 'Which' should be part of the previous sentence: He made the proposal over a bottle of whisky, which may have had something to do with us agreeing to it. The part beginning 'which' is a subordinate clause. Ooh get me and my grammatical terms; I had to Google it. 

To make the rest into 'proper' sentences, you'd have to do something like this: I realise this, now that I think about it soberly. 

But this is where I'd stick two fingers up to the rules and keep it all just as I first wrote it. I feel like a rebel, somewhat get me Johnny Rotten's phone number. Incidentally, although the phrase 'splice the mainbrace' may have originally referred to an emergency rope repair on a ship, it is now an order of extra drink for a crew. 

I'll be having a wee break for my next post, because I'm due to review Alison Tyler's Dark Secret Love on October 27th, but I'll be back after that to ask if you're ejaculating in my general direction. All my editing and proofreading info is at www.tillyhunter.co.uk.

Editor's notes: Literally melting

It's your friendly neighbourhood independent editor here again, sharing some of the common issues I see in my work for authors. I don't mean the basics of grammar and characterisation and plot; advice on those is easy to find. I'm talking instead about some specific but subtle things affecting writers of erotica. And this time, it's metaphors that can be unintentionally hilarious. 

His whip had set my ass on fire and now he told me to bend over ready for him; his voice was gravel. I folded myself in half, ass raised to the ceiling, waiting. His cock found my tunnel and pierced me to the core. Once he'd filled me to the brim, he pushed me onto the bed and made me come. My bones melted into the mattress.

As erotica writers, we can go a bit overboard at times. I'm the same. In the heat of the moment, you lose the little words that signal that you're talking metaphorically - His voice *sounded like* gravel. My bones *felt like* they were melting into the bed. Or your metaphors simply run away with themselves or get all mixed up.

You can get away with it. A bit. But do it too much and it gets ridiculous. Your reader might be jerked out of their immersion in the heat of the moment and imagine it happening literally. If your ass was actually ablaze, you'd have a problem. And bones melting into the bed? Crikey, call an ambulance. No, call an exorcist. Cocks do not actually split or pierce people, even though likening them, metaphorically, to weapons or tools has a long (and often misogynistic) history. And no one has a tunnel as part of their anatomy, unless you're writing a medical text about carpal tunnel syndrome. And just try to imagine how much come it would take to fill a hollowed-out human-sized figure. 

If you've been paying attention, you'll have spotted that I added the word 'felt' to the second description of bones melting. And I've already suggested you stop using the verb 'to feel' all the time. But as I also said, it's about moderation, about using a word because you've chosen to, not because it just slips in and takes over. The same with these metaphors; you're building up the heat but you have to stop before your pan boils over (metaphorically speaking) or your reader is going to be thinking 'what the bloody fuck?'

Next time, splices and fragments. And if you happen to need a helpful, down-to-earth kind of editor, check me out at www.tillyhunter.co.uk.

Editor's notes: I know what you're thinking

I'm back to share some more of the common issues I find when I'm editing the work of other erotica authors. Today, it's all about unintentional head hopping. And as I said before, the somewhat dodgy examples are my own; I work with clients in complete confidence.

People have a lot to say about head hopping. I Googled the term and there's pages and pages of discussion about whether you should do it or not. Personally, I'm with Remittance Girl, who gives a comprehensive explanation on why it doesn't work in erotica at her blog, here. Others disagree, and will say it's acceptable as long as you adequately signal the shift between points of view, such as giving each one a separate chapter or, at the very least, a new paragraph. 

Which camp an author falls into is their business - and their readers' - but as an editor I'm interested in the instances in which an author unintentionally head hops. Like this:

He was downing his glass of wine too fast, looking for some kind of courage in the dregs. He realised his left leg had started up that nervous little bounce and consciously stilled it. He wanted her to grab him and pull him to her, push him down on his knees, grasp a handful of hair and drag his face into her pussy. He looked her in the eyes as if he could somehow convey that need telepathically. She gazed back, mulling over her next move.

That last sentence has shifted into another point of view. When I first wrote that, I put it in first-person. But I switched to third (the close-zoom type, known as 'limited third-person', you tend to get in erotica) to make it clear that, even when the narrative point of view is looking on from the outside, we're actually in his experience. And he can't know what she's thinking. If you want to speculate on what's going on in the other person's head, it has to be an assumption or imagining: She gazed back; was she mulling over her next move? or She gazed back; I imagined her mulling over possibilities. And now that I've written the words 'mulling over' so many times, I'd like to advise that you never, ever use that phrase in erotica unless you're mulling wine. Yum.

Another thing to watch out for is describing something your main character can't actually know about - something visual that happens behind them or while they're blindfolded, or a sound that is out of their earshot: Leanne pushed me to the bed, face down, and pushed her fingers into her own mouth, lubricating them. Yeah, yeah, we know what's coming (fnarr fnarr) but actually whoever 'me' is can't see Leanne do that while s/he is face down on the bed. If you want to make it clear she's made some attempt at lubrication because you're considerate like that, you have to do it another way: Leanne pushed me to the bed, face down, and I sincerely hoped that the cold wetness I felt trickle down my crack was lube...

Next time, unwittingly amusing metaphors. And if you find yourself in need of a proofreader or copy editor, my info is at www.tillyhunter.co.uk.

Editor's notes: I feel all funny

I've been editing the work of other authors for a while now, and often the same things crop up in the reports I send back to them about changes or suggestions I've made. So, I thought I'd share some of those common issues. I'm not talking about the basics of grammar or storytelling because there are many places you can find out more about those on the web. I'm talking about the real nitty gritty things that, as an author, you may not spot in your own work. All the examples are ones I've made up myself (hurriedly); I work with clients in complete confidence.

I'm kicking off with a bit about the verb 'to feel' and related sensory matters.

Here’s a little story: Naomi was walking down the street when her lover sneaked (snuck? No! I refuse to believe snuck is a real word) up behind her, shoved her into a side alley and fucked her senseless against the rough wall. She could feel the bricks grate against her skin through her thin t-shirt. She could feel the damp soaking into her bones. It made her feel dirty. It made her feel alive.

Or you could put: Naomi was walking down the street when her lover sneaked up behind her, shoved her into a side alley and fucked her senseless against the rough wall. The bricks grated her skin through her thin t-shirt. The damp soaked into her bones. It made her feel dirty. Alive.

When you’re writing from one person’s point of view – whether you’re doing it in the first or third-person – you don’t always have to tell me that they’re the one ‘feeling’ all the sensations. It’s a given. (I’ll get onto head hopping another time.) So you can edit out most uses of the verb ‘to feel’ and keep it for when you are perhaps giving some deeper insight into a character's psycho-emotional state or describing an unusual sensation.

Related to that are the other more commonly described senses. Take the verb ‘to hear’: She was lying on the bed, naked, her eyes closed, waiting for him to get in from work. She heard a car pull up outside. She heard its door slam. She heard, or maybe she only thought she did, footsteps coming up the path. She heard a key in the lock. She chickened out, leapt up and got dressed.

Or: She was lying on the bed, naked, her eyes closed, waiting for him to get in from work. A car pulled up outside. Its door slammed. She heard, or maybe she only thought she did, footsteps coming up the path. A key scraped in the lock. She chickened out, leapt up and got dressed.

‘To see/look/watch’: I looked up and watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and saw him slide them down his thighs, down his calves, and off. I saw him take a step towards me, saw a hand reach forwards for my waist. I watched as his lips approached mine. (I think I went cross-eyed.)

Or: He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and slid them down his thighs, down his calves, and off. His hand reached for my waist as he stepped towards me. His lips approached mine.

As you can see, I'm not saying that these verbs should be banned entirely; I'm not that kind of editor (and if you believe 'snuck' is a real word and are going to use it, I'll respect your choice!). Language is not a fixed, immutable thing and rules are there to be broken. For every writing tip you read, you can probably find someone else saying the opposite. But moderation is key; I believe that each word you write should be deliberate. I've kept in the word 'felt' only when I'm talking about feeling dirty as a key part of the sexual experience. I've kept the word 'heard' only when we're straying into what she might be imagining rather than actually hearing in reality. 

I hope my examples have helped to explain what I mean. Next time, I'm going to say a little about the problem of unintentional head hopping. And if you need an editor, my info is at www.tillyhunter.co.uk.

Chocolate inspiration

Okay, you might think you've stumbled upon a very different blog all of a sudden, because I'm going to give you a recipe. But this is not Saturday Kitchen and this is not any old recipe and I'm more of a domestic demon than goddess. This is a seriously sexy recipe. It's very, very rich, very indulgent and if you make it for someone they will very soon be begging you for... well, whatever you want them to beg you for. I'm sharing it to inspire some rich and tasty smut for our call for submissions... and to tease my More Smut for Chocoholics co-editor Kev 'Mitnik' Blisse. So get your wooden spoons at the ready...

Cherries, Chocolate and Cream
By Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall
Serves 4

500g ripe cherries, halved and stoned
25g caster sugar

150g dark chocolate, broken up
30g unsalted butter, cubed
3 large eggs, separated
20g caster sugar

200ml double cream

1 Stick the cherries in a pan with the 25g of sugar and gently heat until they start to release their juices (nudge nudge), then set aside to cool.
2 Melt the chocolate and butter together in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water. Leave to cool a little, then stir in the egg yolks.
3 Whisk up the egg whites and sugar into a soft meringue consistency, then gently fold into the chocolate mix so it's fully combined but without knocking out all the air. 
4 Pour the mousse into bowls or wine glasses or ramekins or whatever other fancy receptacle you have in your cupboards and put them in the fridge for an hour or so.
5 Lightly whip the cream (wink wink) until it holds soft peaks (fnarr fnarr). Spoon a dollop onto each mousse and top with a spoonful of cherries and juice.
6 Enjoy and write us a story. We're talking tales of indulgence and wicked delight in consuming and using chocolate in just about any way your imagination can think of. And it's under the Smut banner, which means light-hearted, saucy, sexy fun, maybe with a hint of humour.

Length: 3,000-6,000 words
Deadline: November 25th, 2013
We're open to any pairings/menage and any erotic genre as long as chocolate is a main feature.

All the details are over at the Smutters website http://smutters.co.uk/more-smut-for-chocoholics

The recipe is from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Three Good Things.

Snippet: True Love's Curse

As promised, I'm back to tell you more about my story, True Love's Curse, in The House of Erotica Witching Hour anthology. Out in time for Halloween, the book has thirteen stories from Victoria Blisse, Elizabeth Black, Heather Lin, Annabeth Leong, Lucy Felthouse, Gemma Parkes, Vanessa de Sade, Nephylim, Nicky Raven, Daddy X, Isabel Holley, and little ol' me. Victoria Blisse has two in there, just in case you're counting. It's available at:

All Romance

Amazon UK

Amazon.com

My blurb went like this: Hedgewitch Nadine knows that something is drawing her to a particular Welsh valley near the home she’s chosen to escape the bustle of modern life. But it’s only when a rock gives way under her foot that she finds him, a fairytale prince shackled to a slab of slate. She does the only thing one can do when faced with a fairytale prince: she kisses him. And then she has to work out how to summon the spirit of his true love and free him from the evil queen’s curse.

And the story goes like this:

I put my foot on a rock. It looked like any other piece of slate embedded in the deep brown earth. But the whole floor of earth and grass and stones and heather gave way. I’m tempted to say it was a surprise. It certainly should have been, would have been to most people. But I just thought, “Ah, now I’m getting somewhere."

And there he was. Naked. Debris from the collapse dusting his skin and clinging to the dark, curled hair around his genitals. Shackles enclosed his spread-eagled wrists and ankles, chains linking them to four thick iron rings set into the rock.

His chest was rising and falling gently but his eyes were closed. I brushed the bits of rock and soil from his chest and stomach. As I trailed my fingers down towards his hips – okay, towards his cock – he stirred, murmuring as if he was dreaming. His face was young and fresh and innocent. But troubled, a crease in his brow. I brushed myself off, then flicked the dust from his lips with my fingertips. There’s really only one proper thing to do when faced with a sleeping fairytale prince. I kissed him. Bending over and placing my palms on the slab either side of his head, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

New story!

Ah, Halloween. Or Samhain, if you prefer. That funny time of year when the boundaries between worlds weaken and strange beings from other realms might break through, the beginning of the year's darker half, a time for staring into the flames and seeing visions of the future. Or an excuse to dress up and eat sweets. 

House of Erotica has a new anthology out full of spooky goings-on, just in time for Halloween. The Witching Hour has, quite aptly, thirteen stories from some frighteningly fabulous authors. I'm afraid mine, True Love's Curse (f/m), contains no pumpkins, dressing up or candy. But it does have some chains. And a fairytale prince. And a curse. And a complicated spell. I'll tell you more soon, but for now you can buy the book at:

All Romance

Amazon UK

Amazon.com