Author: Aya DeAniege

Editor’s Block

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I’m not editing or writing. It’s taking a really long time to get anything out or to get motivated for writing. Today I visited Beth and she showed me how to Google myself.

I know, I know, how did I not know how to Google myself? Well, the how is pretty obvious, but it never occurred to me to do that before.

Beth found one of her books on Ebay, then all kinds of links that she didn’t know about. Including a tweet she hadn’t realized had been posted at her. Then she handed me her laptop and told me to do the same for myself.

Fun… I exist online, whoo! Except the first thing that popped up was my blog, which I haven’t updated in forever. That got me a cuff upside the head.

To which I cuffed Beth back because she hasn’t updated in longer.

The third link down was my Goodreads page, which has only attached to 36 books I’ve read because I couldn’t recall the others. I stopped, bit my bottom lip and basically moaned.

When was the last time I read a book?

When was the last time I read a good book?

I need to get a good book. I’d like some Romance with a twist of fantasy. None of that bear or wolf pack stuff either. Some good, honest fantasy without vampires (any variation of that spelling) but plenty of smut.

Or I could pick up the novel of a big time traditional author. Maybe reading a book or two will get me back on the editing and rewriting the last book. Something I desperately need to do.

Contract Taken and Contract Broken are almost completed for editing. I’m trying to go through the first edit for Contract Renewed but it takes a lot of re-writing because I skipped out on an important thing so I have to flush it all out and fix it all. Which is fine, the re-writes will make it so much more … interesting.

If only I could get motivated. I don’t know, maybe I’m kidding myself with the editing them all as one and I should put up the first for pre-order and keep working on the last one. Should I do that?

Beth keeps telling me to shut up and do that. Dorian just looks at me the way he does and then the writing gets put off for a while longer.

Suppose if I’m going to do the pre-order and all, I’ll have to contact my cover artist and ask her very nicely to get the covers done. Then however long it takes her to complete the covers is however long it takes and that’s just more time for me to beat my head on a wall about this re-write.

Reading Through

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I just finished the trilogy—reading it, that is. The first and second books are great, there’s a running theme to the sex and everything else. The third seems to be lacking the theme on the sex.

I asked Beth to read them, as I had mentioned before. She did and her response to the first two was to basically blush. The third she said, “well… I feel like it needs a balance. The others were sub, sub, the last one is like… wtf is going on? What happened to all the talk about domming?”

She’s right, I need to rewrite a few chapters. Fix a lot more things in the third book than in the others. It’s okay, I got this. So besides the opener, things have to be swung into the domme mode instead of having them switch back and forth and there’s not so much play or sex in the last book. Which is kind of understandable.

Now I’m just talking to myself as I try to figure out how to position everything to get it ready.

The first book has some timeline edits and small things like that, but mainly typos. The second is the same thing, really. A fact change here, a fact change there. I’m actually on the fence about the decision I had made before. Reading through, I don’t think it works any other way.

I suppose my fear is upsetting some readers with that, but removing it would require altering three other things throughout the entirety of the book and I don’t think I could accurately give the presentation any other way.

So far the titles I’ve come up with are Contract Taken, Contract Breached, Contract Renewed, or Contract Taken, Contract Lost, Contract Found. With the first being the preferred.

I realize in the genre I’ve chosen, I want to write fast but I’ve just never been that sort of person. The Contract trilogy was written fast for me, at one book a month. Still need to go through edits, however. And I’m so happy I put off the edits until I was finished writing them.

A month or so to edit, set the first release three months from now, the next one three months after that, the next three after that. I think that’s the pattern that you need to have. Not certain. But maybe by the time the second book releases, I’ll have the next trilogy done and schedule that up.

That’s actually a good idea. Just one problem…

If I’m writing at that rate. What’s my world after the next one going to look like?

Ugh. This is the point where I rub my face, shake my head, and remind myself that I have to get the first trilogy off the ground first.

Writer’s Block

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I was having trouble finishing Contracted due to a few things. The first being that whenever I’d get on a roll, my upstairs neighbour would start blasting music so loud that it sounded like it was coming from my bedroom. It was also rap music just over half the time, then a mix of emo-rock and country the rest of the time.

Now, I’ve got nothing against people who listen to those types of music. Except when they blast it and destroy my chapters. I listen to adult contemporary, or something like that, to write. The tones through the music tend to flow together and work with my writing speed. It also keeps me going when I want to slow down, helps join the thoughts together.

Otherwise, the only time I have a problem with other music listeners is when they force me to listen to it until late hours of the night.

The other issue I was having was that the first and second books dealt with a very narrow scope of time. They were clear written and I knew what happened in every chapter, and in some that didn’t make it into the books (there’s only so much sex I can include before it looks like I don’t care about the rest of their lives) while the third book focuses on about six months of time and was just this event that had nothing to really do with their personal lives, and then the sex that happened.

It was a conflicted bounce back and forth and thanks to interruptions, I think I missed the point where there is a transition or explanation.

Two nights ago Dorian came over—this is important—and I was sitting on my couch with music blasting, trying to get out a sex scene. He shut off my music (because he’s like that) and asked why I was playing two types of music. Then he walked into my bedroom and back out.

My apartment is a small loft style. I can’t afford much, but I scored an amazing apartment thanks to Dorian knowing the landlord. There are no doors for me to close during the day to shut out more of the sound.

“What’s up with that? Is she blasting to cover your music?”

“No, you know I don’t like it that loud. I was just trying to drown her out so that I could finish this sex scene.”

He asked what the scene involved and I responded before my brain caught up to me.

Note to self, never tell Dorian you’re stuck on a sex scene. Let alone give him the details of the scene.

“Well, then, let me give you some inspiration.”

So good, but so wrong.

Because a 1990’s television show was blasting through my ceiling so it was all done to a laugh track and a dialogue that I almost managed to blot out.

Laying in bed afterwards, Dorian can see the tension starting to build in me as the night wore on and the sound didn’t stop. I need quiet. Without it, I get edgy and will even start crying if it goes too far.

“Have you filed a complaint yet?”

“No, I don’t want her to retaliate. People always retaliate.”

“You can file the complaint, or I can go up there right now and retaliate myself.”

I filed the complaint, quoting the lease everyone in the building has to sign, which states after 10PM is quiet time. Not filing the complaint wouldn’t have involved Dorian actually going upstairs, but it probably would have ended in a fight between the two of us and I didn’t want that. He was also right, I should have said something three weeks ago when it reached this volume.

Where I can hear the lyrics or dialogue as if it’s coming from my bedroom, it’s too loud.

Yesterday I sat down to write, meaning to write a short story so that I could publish that and make a few dollars while I worked on the trilogy. Maybe use that money to pay for better covers…

Instead, I finished the Contracted trilogy. This morning I thought, “Hey, what about calling them Contract Taken, Contract Broken, Contract Renewed.” and texted Beth. She thinks I’m crazy and need more sleep.

The first and second books need some alterations to make everything flow properly. The second needs a change that I decided to go with after the fact. The third probably needs extensive re-writes from about the half-way point.

At this moment, the story is on my phone and Beth’s phone. We’re both going to read it and then she’s going to tell me that she doesn’t like it, but maybe it has something to it (Beth doesn’t read erotica or romance because she can’t get into the plot).

I’ve read Beth’s books before and each of those is just under 300 pages. The Contracted trilogy comes to just over 700 pages. Though Beth’s always has the front and back matter attached and I have plans to flesh out the details and the fun stuff on the first two, then re-write the third to include some things that got lost as Kid Rock shouted at me from my bedroom.

This is a lot of work. Why in the hell did I think this was a good idea?

Oh, that’s right. Because I can’t imagine living my life without writing.

Growing Pains

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I’ve never Googled myself.

Today I watched Beth do just that, Google herself. Well, her pen name anyhow. All sorts of links came up and she shrugged at most of them. It’s all her books, or her ratings coming up. A few surprised her.

As I sat there gawking at her screen.

So while I sat there, Beth typed in my pen name and I audibly gasped.

“What’s that?” I cried out.

“Your ‘About me’ page on WordPress. You must have set it up, with that bio you made.”

“I did no such thing, I have no pages, it makes everything left justified and unbalanced.”

“Uh, WordPress pre-populates a couple of things. That must be what they’re talking about because… this is your blog, isn’t it?”

“Son of a—”

So I spent some time on Beth’s laptop filling things out as she explained over my shoulder. I’m not great with html, Beth is capable. Though I suspect she’s more than just capable and is being humble about it. I’m mildly capable, she was able to program four different sites (simple though they may have been).

I wanted to place excerpts on the blog for different books. That’s something I’ve seen authors do, and so far I’ve done a great deal of talking about writing, but provided nothing.

Beth suggested I not point out that it hasn’t been edited yet, but I think it’s only fair. She did figure out how to attach the excerpts to the page while not showing it all on the page itself. That ends up blocky and nasty looking. A wall of text, really.

I’m still not certain they count as erotica. If you remove the sex, does the story still work? No. But that doesn’t necessarily mean erotica. There’s some line, I’m sure, for erotica and I’ve yet to be able to find out where it is.

Anyhow, at the end of this all, I just wanted to ask that you bear with me as I go through some growing pains. Adjusting things here and there.

Finally got my “author pic” on the blog and now I hate it. Absolutely hate it, so I’m looking for something else now. Something to make do until I can get a hat.

I’m going to be writing something like erotica and still need to work a day job to pay my bills. My face cannot be in the author picture. Suppose I could get a fan instead. A fan might work, but I think I prefer a hat.

Easter

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Beth has no family to spend any holiday with. She tends to spend them alone, or if there is someone it’s her on-again, off-again boyfriend. In this case it’s not necessarily that she has a past, so much as that her family are really far away.

I’m not invited to my own family’s Easter this year (now, I’ve never said they were perfect) because I don’t have children and last year I grumbled about the commercialization. Watching my nieces and nephews basically lose their minds because they aren’t getting as many presents as at Christmas, doesn’t make me want to go to Easter anyhow.

It was my sister who tried to have me banned, it was my mother who delivered me a ham—one large enough to feed a family—and a bit of candy, then suggested I stay home.

This ham is big enough to feed me for a month.

Anyhow, I’m currently at Beth’s while she gets ready for work, grumbling the whole way. We are doing dinner here at her place, where I know Beth is more comfortable. Staying home, even if I’m having the dinner, for a holiday just feels wrong.

We’ll start tonight with buns, tomorrow morning I’ll make breakfast and we’ll make a day of it. Dorian might be stopping by after his family dinner lets out. Beth’s boyfriend is probably going to show up four hours late and drunk.

Beth, and part of why she is grumbling, hates holidays. She’s not a Grinch about everything, more like afraid it’ll bite her. There are expectations for holidays, including conversation with co-workers about family. It makes her very uncomfortable because no one likes to hear what she has to say about family, which is honest and actually tempered by time.

Oh, and you can’t work on holidays. At least not when with family, you can’t write or edit or have a dazed sort of look as your characters act out that really important scene you’ve been trying to figure out. No, you have to sit there and interact with your family.

Even if they’re on their new ipads, ignoring you.

Our dinner will be a little different. Beth will be allowed to write—obviously—and I’ll bring over my tablet to do some work myself. We’ll have timers set for everything so that nothing burns and we’ll do a sit in for writing, I think that’s what they’re called.

And while Beth is at work today I’ll clean her apartment. Of course I’ll do some work as well, pop by my apartment to check on Trixie.

It’ll be fun.

The Outing Moment

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Beth told Dorian.

They’re friends, they talk.

So tonight I received a text from Dorian—which I ignored. He and I have a standing agreement. We fight, we both have those types of personalities.

Oh, and the makeup sex. Who can argue with that?

He was supposed to text me two days ago with an ‘apology’ and never did. So I was actually annoyed with him. I’m not at the beck and call of someone who doesn’t even follow the rules he set out for the both of us.

When I ignored the text, I received a call.

It’s from Dorian, I answer with an annoyed greeting. He informed me that he had dinner prepared, dessert at the ready, and I was to be there in twenty minutes.

Again, this is a standing arrangement that we’ve come to. He’s not just a jerk. I agreed to these rules, I can walk away at any time.

But to walk away from that face…

I headed over to Dorian’s place and had a delightful dinner. Looking back now, I know he was taunting me with his knowledge throughout. He told me right off that he had spoken with Beth and they had discussed a great many things, new things and so on.

All through dessert, I simply sat, enjoying the meal and conversation. I thought of the things to come, the things that I know come after just such a meal, after chocolate lava cake is served to me.

I’m a sucker for dark chocolate.

And dark eyes, and black hair… and that face. Not to mention what he does to me.

Which all led to my being pinned to the couch, my hands bound and held above my head by his. Dorian hovering over me, lips almost against my neck as he chuckled. I whined, of course, it’s been a while.

“If you want it so bad, I suggest you finish the book.”

What?

It was like those stories from Greek or Roman myth, I can never remember. In their version of hell, all those folk bound in the water, who would bend to drink, only to have the water recede. When they lifted their heads, the water returned. I felt as if it was like that.

I didn’t understand what he meant, so Dorian went on to explain.

Beth told him (accidental as it may have been) that I was writing something that might count as erotica. It probably came out the way most things do with Beth. She said I was having trouble with a book, he asked what she meant, Beth shrugged and said she knew nothing about writing sex scenes every other chapter.

Dorian may be dominating with most people, but he sees Beth as a little sister. So while he pressed her for answers, she probably wasn’t as forthcoming as he claims. The most forthcoming she would have been was providing the pen name I’ve chosen.

Urgh. So, after explaining that, Dorian grinned impishly and pulled away. He explained that those who write romance aren’t spurred on by feeding their desires, they are tormented by what they wanted to happen.

By his reasoning, the rest of the book should be simple, considering all I’ll have to do is write what I want him to do to me.

An entire book before I get what I want?

We … eventually came to an agreement. I’m not entirely happy with it.

Though I must admit, there does seem to be a certain something roiling under the story once more. I doubt his ploy will work, however.

And I don’t understand why he did it. Dorian’s never been one to jump at the idea of a romance, either in book or movie form.

Writing Sex

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I don’t know about other writers. It’s always been sort of… explained to me, that romance and erotica authors have no problem typing up that scene. They never have trouble with wording or are embarrassed in any way about what they do.

Which really makes me feel like the crazy person in the corner.

To write smut, I need to be alone. Tried it a time or two with an ex-boyfriend of mine. He started reading over my shoulder. Talk about a mood killer!

I need music, not television, but music. If television is on, I’ll be jarred out the moment I get into it. Not into the sex, but into the swing of writing it, into the moment that is happening in.

Then it takes three hours to write a page.

I need to not be interrupted. Not by the phone, not by Trixie, not by Dorian, and definitely not by my upstairs neighbour.

Who blasted something about beating a ho just as Izzy began writhing for Nathaniel.

Now, while I am writing a BDSM story, and Nathaniel had just gotten through beating Izzy (at her request) that’s not the type of music that helps me out. It kind of makes me feel like I was narrating everything out loud on a megaphone.

The moment I feel like someone else knows that I’m writing about sex is the moment my words dry up. The scene has already gone through my head at least ten times, possibly more. It was interesting the first two times, that’s why I’m writing it down. After the third it’s just repetition on the part of the characters because I didn’t listen the first time.

I really should listen the first time, that’d probably make the writing easier.

Then there’s over thinking. What if my mother sees this? She’d probably enjoy it.

What if Dorian sees this? Oh gosh, I’d die of embarrassment. I haven’t even told him that I’ve decided to publish romance/erotica stories. He knows I write, but thinks I’ll take more of Beth’s route, where there’s a kind of plot. Although the plot wouldn’t work without the relationships that are forged but that’s what she gets for creating a world that focuses on breeding and needing a significant other in order to be taken seriously.

Not a man, just a significant other of some kind.

There’s also the question of the day job finding out I write smut. Of course, need a day job first.

Definitely need a day job.

So for me there’s a lot of pressure when it comes to writing sex. There’d be less pressure if I was having actual sex, instead of writing it. But then, Dorian’s pretty good and relieving that pressure.

I should text him… No, no, he can text me first.

When I texted my problem to Beth (yes, we mainly text, but she also has a full-time job so she doesn’t have a lot of time for calls) she laughed out loud at me and then told me that it’s not just sex that writers can struggle with. She struggles with killing people, as well as anything to do with emotion.

Thankfully for me, it’s just the sex I have trouble writing, because I think too much during.

Oh dear, I hope you didn’t come to the post hoping I’d tell you how to write sex. I haven’t the faintest clue if my methods work yet. And I can’t talk about special flowers or nether lips like other writers seem to scribble off without so much as a sigh.

Secret flower… it’s not exactly a secret, now is it? Everyone knows the main female character has one!

But that’s just my opinion and you don’t have to listen to it in the least.

“Everyone Has Their Kinks”

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Beth texted me after work. Our text conversations, I like to think, are like those of any writer. We struggle with Twitter because we want to tell a story instead of just shouting something and running away.

We also both have unlimited texting. Wonder why?

Her: Bad day, you back with Dorian yet?

Me: Nope, he wanted me to be more bratty, so I’m giving him good cause to spank me later on.

Her: …

Me: I might need to stop there tonight. But not until late.

Her: Dinner. My place. Bring the tomatoes.

Me: You want my bean sprouts and parsnips too?

Her: Yes. Bring them.

When Beth has a bad day, she has a drink, watches some shows and gets over it. When someone points out an error that she made and does so in a rude or derogatory way it’s not a bad day. It’s a shit day. When these days happen, Beth struggles for control and she takes control in the kitchen.

As I said, she’s a good cook. Can’t make pancakes worth shit, though.

Having struggled all day to write the last of one chapter so I could move onto the smut that I wanted to do, I went to her place. When I get frustrated, I get stuck in place and can’t move. So getting out and moving is better than sitting there, stewing in my own frustration.

The same could be said of Beth. She vented her frustrations to me as I watched her march about her kitchen, throwing things into a pot and seemingly not caring what she was doing. As her frustration dissipated, the meal came together.

Instead of letting it eat her up inside, instead of shouting at the person who made her feel bad about herself, or even sinking into herself and hiding away from everyone she knows, Beth cooks a wonderful dinner.

Her concoctions get weirder, the more annoyed and frustrated she is. Tonight it’s a mishmash of … stuff. All vegetarian. The only processed item to go in was some broth stock mix. My gorgeous tomatoes are in a giant bowl with chopped bean sprouts, fried parsnip and onion, brown lentils, and bulgur. I have no idea what it is. I don’t think even Beth knows.

She learned how to do this from her mother, I know because I’ve watched her mother make “stuff” a time or two. Except her mother didn’t have access to fresh ingredients, let alone a plethora of fresh veggies.

The pair of them are so weird when it comes to food. Nearly every time they make “stuff” it tastes freaking fantastic.

Beth’s writing is like her “stuff.” Sometimes it doesn’t make any sense, people who look at it and turn of their noses, but those who try it, (mostly) like it. I hope my books will be like that.

Don’t get me wrong, I can cook great. But I have to follow a recipe, to do things that have been tried and tested in the past.

And when I get frustrated? I text Dorian and be a brat until he gets off work and demands my presence.

Perhaps I should do that…