Shannon Stacey
Clean Up in Aisle 5…

I think I’ve done (most) of the Shannon Can Yous for the day, so it’s time to work.

In reading over the scene I worked on yesterday, I’m getting the impression that, instead of an orgasm, my poor hero is having a seizure. Maybe the C word I was going for wasn’t convulsing.

So first stop–the thesaurus. SPASM! SPASM! (I am NOT going to the library to check out French Kiss for the 683rd time. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.)

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Write what you know? Sure…

Yeah, I spent most of the day fiddling with a male masturbation scene. In his POV. *groan*

Like I have ANY idea. It seems like most scenes of that nature I see are in the heroine’s POV. You get the visual without having to delve too deep into the pre-orgasm male psyche. But that won’t work because she’s in the next room. *sigh*

The bare bones scene was done a long time ago, but I need to make it more than a rub and a grunt, so I toil on, trying to get in touch with my inner masturbating masculine side. (I don’t appear to have one, and I can’t really say that I’m sorry about that.)

I’m hoping to finish THAT up tomorrow, without three boys running amok through the house. They definitely don’t help.

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Adventures in romantica buying…

We took the boys to Toys-R-Us to spend their Christmas money/gift cards today. There is nothing like wandering a toy store with two kids with $50 each in their pockets. To help in my recovery, I left the husband in the truck to undo the 496 grey-wire twist ties holding 4 toys in their packaging while I dashed into Borders.

Now, I love romantica. If you’re going to write sex, write sex–hot, steamy, and nary a love-lance or heaving pearly orb in sight. And I love books from Ellora’s Cave best of all. (They’re actually who I’d most like to get The Call from this year–or The Email). When Borders starting carrying EC’s books, I wanted to throw a party! EC in print! Woooohoooooo! I’ve never really thought of the covers or anybody’s perceptions of what I’m reading.

Today I was after FETISH by Sherri L. King. A couple of people who share my reading tastes and whose opinions I trust recommended this as an “OMG, you haven’t read it yet? You HAVE to read it!”, so I was thrilled to find it at Borders. Now, the cover of this book is HOT, and probably one of my favorite EC covers yet. But, the cover and the title combined…I managed to run into not only an aide from the short kid’s preschool, but a very judgmentally religious friend of my stepmother’s. The only thing that stopped me from sliding it under my coat was the thought of trying to explain to the husband why I was arrested for shoplifting romantica.

And do I get one of the bored cashiers who don’t even make eye contact while muttering “Would you like to sign up for our online newsletter?” in a “Can I just shoot myself now?” monotone. No, I get the kid who obviously just lost his virginity to a bar of ivory soap and a wad of wet paper towels. He scans Fetish first, then sets it to the side. Looks at me funny. Scans my RT magazine, then slides it UNDER Fetish, and looks up at me. Scans the husband’s Formula 1 magazine, slides it UNDER the stack, looks at Fetish. Looks at me. Scans the little tin of Burt’s Bee’s Lip Balm, then…yup, slips it UNDER the book he’s ogling, then looks at me again.

Outwardly, I’m giving him the arched-eyebrow Look of Death, telling him ‘go ahead and say something. Watch me take you from nosy to sobbing for your mommy in 5.2 seconds’. Inwardly, I’m realizing just what makes romantica by e-book so very popular. No horny dweebs wondering what the dumpy housewife needs with a book like that.

(And I’m not very far into it yet, but it’s looking to be DEFINITELY worth the adventure) (And the adventure wouldn’t count as writing, but it did give me a ‘glimpse’ of understanding of the market/format/whatever you call it.)

Now I’m off to continue the internal debate on deleting Jawbreaker and Solitaire from my iPAQ.

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And so it begins…

My plan for the new year: get up at a reasonably early time, write for several hours, build a couple of discussion threads for the “day job”, then take a weedwhacker to my Yahoogroups. Seriously, most of the “industry” loops I subscribe to have become nothing more than commercials for one on-line class or contest after another. I swear I get more spam from my fellow writers than I do from the guy who wants to enlarge my penis. (sure, and wouldn’t that suprise the husband?)

I took one online class last year done by email. All of the digests from that class are still sitting in a folder, unread. And I quit contests. Who wants to see the same people final with the same manuscripts time after time after time? Ummm….do you have more than 3 chapters? Have you submitted them to anybody who can actually publish them? Anyway…

My reality for the new year: After staying up until 2 because the husband and I foolishly stumbled onto a Blind Date marathon (I swear, the daters are like train wrecks, but those pop-up thought bubbles kill me), I was dragged out of bed by the phone ringing. My sister wants to get together to do the Christmas thing today. This wouldn’t be catastrophic, because we each drive an hour, meeting in the middle, (although she wants to meet at Chuck E. Cheese’s this time–shoot me now: my 9-year-old will head off with dad, leaving me with our 4-year-old and my 3 nephews under 4) except I haven’t actually bought their gifts yet. You know how it is–when you have people you know you won’t see until after Christmas, you put them off until later. Later, apparently, has arrived.

Stores still trashed from Christmas returns and clerks/cashiers hung-over from New Year’s, followed by a relaxing afternoon at the last resort for all parents of cabin-fevered, uberhyper children. If what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, watch out because I’ll be able to kick some serious ass by nightfall.

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Just practicing

I’m taking up blogging for New Year’s, so I don’t have to actually SAY anything til tomorrow. :)

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