Beginnings...or is this the end?

Remember when I said I was doing this? 

Well, I’ve finally done it.

Six years ago, I started on a journey to earn my certificate in Publishing, and ten crazy, mind-bending, incredibly educational classes later, I’m FINISHED!!

Just don’t ask me exactly what I learned. It was a harrowing experience, to say the least.

Not only was I dealing with being one of the oldest in my classes – sometimes even being older than the teachers – but in the six years it took me to do this, I lost my father, my grandfather, my surrogate grandparents, had my grandmother in the hospital several times, took care of my mom as she tried to put herself back together after my dad’s death, lost two friends to suicide, and three to cancer. My best friend was diagnosed with Parkinsons, and my father-in-law with dementia. And in all of that, fighting my internal battles with (self-diagnosed) depression, weight issues, lack of confidence and increasing self-doubt, questioning after every assignment if I was even smart enough to deserve to be there, and wondering whether or not my marriage was going to fall apart.

It’s a lot for anyone to have on their plate.

The fact I managed to graduate at all is a miracle. But I did it. Now, the question I face is the same one that graduates all over the world face once that piece of paper is in their hands – what do I do now?

My original thought was to open my own boutique e-pub house, which is why I began this in the first place; to become a writer/editor extraordinaire like my idols Alison Tyler, Sommer Marsden and Dayle Dermatis. But then, after a few courses, I realised something -  I hate editing. 

I have no patience for proper sentence structure, or the Chicago Rules of Style. I don’t care if a participle is dangling, and I could care less if I end a sentence on a preposition. The way I write is the way the language sounds to me. It’s musical and flows, and sometimes choppy and crude to fit the situation my characters are in. If I had to tear someone’s writing apart and ruin their vision because they forgot an adverb? I just couldn’t. So, no editing for me.

I found myself loving the marketing and PR classes the most. Maybe that’s where I fit in. But right now I just need to get my foot in the door.

I figure if I could start as a receptionist and work my way up, maybe that would help. And maybe, just maybe, I can finally find time to write. I'm sure you can tell from this blog - how sparse it is - that I haven't been following my bliss very well. 

Truth is, writers block has me in a tight grip - has for a long time now. The voices have stopped talking to me, and it seems like any form of inspiration deserted me a long time ago. I'm a dry well. I've never been so lacking for ideas in my life. And, though I've lamented it on this blog several times, the last six months have found me with no desire to write.

And that scares me more than not knowing what to do with my certificate. 

Even this post lacks the creativity and the wit (self proclaimed wit anyway) that I'm used to in my posts. Completely lacks organisation as well. Scattered pictures and derailed trains of thought litter my posts regularly, but this one seems a little more ... empty than usual. 

Maybe because I'm writing for the sake of putting something out there. Or maybe because I suspect I've been a talent-less hack all these years and the truth is just catching up to me now.

Wow, so we started with good news and are ending on a depressing note. 

And THAT my friends, is the story of my life. 

YAY - A writing challenge you can see through...

Ms. Tyler, our lovely Alison, issued us a challenge this week, based on a query from the fabulous Nancy.

First, we answered her weekly Trollop With A Question (this is number 74 and they've all been fantastic and thought inducing. Go catch up if you haven't been keeping up.)

This week's question was interesting in and of itself, because it involved an item I've rarely worn, and therefore never had much cause to think about.

How many ways are there to wear sheer stockings?

And after we answered that, she challenged us to write her a flasher on that very subject.

It's been awhile since we've had one of Alison's writing prompts, and I was happy to comply with this.

So, here is my contribution.

Please enjoy. And if you get the chance, take on the challenge yourself.

They constrict around my wrists, the seams creasing my skin with every movement.

This was not what I had in mind when I ordered them from Paris. “The stockings your legs deserve” the tag line read. It sounded better in French, but that was the point.

When I dressed that morning for work, I felt very French, sexy, with my pencil skirt and ruffled blouse. Empowered even, as I brought my boss his coffee.

His eyes trickled, his chin lowered, telling me, without words, what he wanted.

On my knees, naked, my cunt twitches, as the silk tightens further.

We have winners!

With the way this blog has been going lately, I'm going to say that having four people comment is definitely a win!

Thank you to all who visited during this time. I'm sure there was more than one newbie and I hope that I can keep up posting so you'll have something semi-interesting to read from me.

In case you're late to the party, I hosted a writing prompt challenge. The prize? An e-book copy of Alison Tyler's Alison After Dark.

Yep. That's the one.

I wanted to help the lady out with five copies, but we only had four commenters. But that's cool. All the lovely people have my undying gratitude.

SO, if Cammies on the floor, Angel, David and Trix could all send their e-mail addresses to angell(dot)brooks(at)hotmail(dot)com , I shall get your prizes to you forthwith!

(On a side note, does anyone have any idea why we post email addy's like that in blogs? I just saw others doing it and figured that's the way it's done *shrug*)

In the meantime, if you didn't participate in the contest, but would still like a copy of your own, head over to Amazon and hit the buy button! A small price to pay for some seriously hot reading. How can you go wrong?!

You simply can't.

I'm Giving Out Sex!

Well, not for real. Although, now that I think about it, it would spice things up in what has been a boring six months. Hmmmm.....

No, what I am giving away is five e-book copies of Alison Tyler's sultry, sinfully fun compilation Alison After Dark.

If you check here, Alison said that she'd like to sell ten copies this week. I already own one, but I figured I'd help a lady out.

Alison is fabulous about supporting indie authors, pimping them out on her blog, commenting on posts and tweeting about them non-stop. She edits, writes, sends cheery gifts through the mail and is altogether too sweet for reality to those who are fortunate enough to know her.

Myself, I've been at a bit of a standstill when it comes to writing. Reality is exhausting and the brain just wants to shut down at the end of the day. So I let it, when I should really be unburdening my shoulders and letting it out on the page. It's not just therapy, it's an extension of myself, and when I don't do it, I feel heavy and tired and just altogether miserable.

So, in an effort to start writing again, I'll give a copy of this amazing book to five commenters in exchange for unusual writing prompts.

They don't necessarily have to be erotic in nature, although it is my chosen genre. But stepping outside my box wouldn't be so bad.

So, brother, can you spare an idea or two? Send 'em my way, and get some grade A smut-a-licious reading material in return. (And full props if anything comes from the prompts of course - I love to give credit where credit is due!)

Mixing and Matching Music

If any of you have ever been over to Alison Tyler's blog - you know she's all about da bass.

Ok, maybe not. But she is all about all things music. She's constantly quoting songs, revealing what she's listening to, recommending artists and sharing memories and stories behind some of her favourite tunes.

She also is a HUGE fan of mixed tapes. As am I.

Currently I have 8,352 songs on my iPod. And am adding more daily. All kinds of songs - Broadway tunes, movie soundtracks, country, rock, metal, jazz - even comedy.

Back on January 19, Alison posted an entry called Make Your Mixed Tape. And it got me thinking.

There are at least a dozen variations on the mixed tape.

 - I want you but I shouldn't want you
 - You're mine and I'm so happy about that
 - I love you but I shouldn't love you
 - You love me but I don't love you and this is to let you know that we're just friends
 - I used to love you but I let you go and now I hate myself
 - You're my best friend

Etc, etc.

You get what I mean.

So I started thinking. What songs would I want someone to put on a mixed tape for ME, if I had my choice? What songs in my library would curl my toes in a good way?

It's been forever since someone made me a mixed tape. And these days, well, you can make a mixed "tape" out of anything. You can email a file, you can put it on a memory stick, you can put together a litany of youtube videos and send the link. Or, you could go old school. But what would they play it on?

I figured I'd do a few of these lists as I love to mix and match.

So the first list.

I LOVE YOU BUT I SHOULDN'T (From him to her)

Out of the over 8,000 songs on my iPod, these are twenty-five of the dozens that fit this category. Some you'll know, some you won't. So I've managed to link them all to youtube.

WARNING: they're all kind of schmaltzy, but hey, I like schmaltz. Also, there is a history behind some of these songs, and others have been - and will be - used as inspiration for future writings. But that's good right? Inspiration abounds....


Time by Mikky Ekko
Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol
Make You Feel My Love by Adele
Waiting for a Girl Like You by Foreigner
Try by Blue Rodeo
Shameless by Garth Brooks
Making Memories of Us by Keith Urban
Need You Now by Lady Antebellum
Come On Get Higher by Matt Nathanson
One More Night by Phil Collins
Never Tear Us Apart by INXS
The Other Man by Sloan
The Love I Meant to Say by Jeremy Jordan
Something by Jim Sturgess
Lips of An Angel by Hinder
I Should Go by Levi Kreis
Somewhere Only We Know by Keane
Iris by Goo Goo Dolls
Fool For You by Colin James
In Too Deep by Phil Collins
More than Words by Extreme
Far Away by Nickleback (**will probably get hell for this one but I don't care - I LOVE this song**)
Come What May by Ewan Macgregor and Nicole Kidman
Just Remember by Chad LaMarsh
We've Got Tonight by Lea Michele and Cory Monteith (I KNOW I KNOW Bob Seger is the original singer of this but I DO love this version)


So what would YOUR suggestions be for this list? Any bone melters that you wish someone would dedicate to you?


PSST - image found at fineartamerica.com

Smut Marathon Final!

Well, it looks like we have a three way tie for first in the 2014 Smut Marathon, as decided by our lovely hostess Alison!

I'm proud to say that I've participated in every Smut Marathon, but this is the first time I've finished first. Of course, I probably wouldn't have, not in the brilliant company I'm in this time. But to know that I made it this far, I can't help but thank you all who came through and voted for me.

As always, it's been a blast participating. I always run into old friends, and make some new ones. And I get pushed to produce. That's the good old kick in the pants some of us need.


To my fellow finalists Oleander Plume and Marie Rebelle, I say - You go Glen Coco!! :P (I've always wanted to put that up)

 

For the final round, we were instructed to pen a story inspired by a fantastic photo by the wonderful Riendo. Max was 1500 words. Let me tell you, it was a challenge. But I'm proud of this piece. And I hope you enjoy.

Welcome to the Wild West 

Sara lay on her balcony, basking in the glow of her first LA sunset.  

Day one in La-La Land, and she was exhausted. Since her plane landed at LAX that morning, she’d been going non-stop. Between dropping her luggage at the new apartment, then grabbing a cab to the Studio on Riverside, taking care of contract signing, out for lunch with her new boss, and a brief tour around the office, she finally made it into her new place and, taking a beer out of her new fridge, collapsed on her new corner balcony.  

New. It was all so new.  

She took another haul off the bottle. For a girl from Schenectady, New York, this was a dream. One she never wanted to wake from. 

She had a hell of a view from where she sat. The closest building was three blocks away, and that meant no nosy neighbours if she decided to walk around naked. Which, while she wasn't in the habit of doing it often, she might just do now that she was here, in her new life. 

Traffic buzzed on the street ten stories below, almost lulling her to sleep. Her jet lag wasn’t that significant, LA only being three hours behind New York, but she hadn’t slept well in the week leading up to the big move.  

Too much to do. Too much excitement. Too much...everything. 

Now, with the warm breeze caressing her face, she told herself she’d close her eyes, but only for a minute… 

Firm, soft lips were pressed to hers. A tongue coaxed her lips open, and she sighed in surrender. Tongues brushed in silent passion, and Sara could feel her thighs moisten beneath her sundress. She opened her eyes, to see the ocean blue gazing back at her. “Boy this dream just keeps getting better and better.” She mumbled to herself. The chuckle from beside her sounded too real, and she bolted upright. 

“Who the fuck…?” Sara began, grasping the neck of the beer bottle like a club. The laughter continued. 

“Easy Sleeping Beauty.” The owner of the ocean blue eyes dropped into the chair next to her. “I’m Zack. And you must be my new neighbor.” 

Zack. Sara almost scoffed. Could there be any other typical California name? The blue eyes were surrounded by lightly tanned skin. His hair, while not typical Cali blond, was a gorgeous chestnut, with bangs that fell cheekily into his eyes. 

She shook her head. “Wait. How did you get…”  

He smirked. “You really should lock your door. I don’t know where you come from, but around here, an unlocked door is an open invitation.” 

Sara mentally retraced her steps and groaned. “Right. I was so focused on the beer.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Thank you, I guess. But what was with the kiss?” 

He moved to sit on the chaise with her. “Haven’t you ever just spotted a person and wonder what it would be like to kiss them? Besides, this is L.A. Land of living fairy tales. I couldn’t resist.” He leaned closer, reaching up to play with a lock of her hair. “So, what is your name, or should I just keep calling you Sleeping Beauty?” 

“Sara.” Her voice was more a whisper than she would have liked. She cleared her throat. “I’m, um, from New York.”  

He grinned. "Yeah, I got that from the accent." He stood. "Mind if I grab a beer?" She shook her head, still trying to wrap her thoughts around the gorgeous stranger in her apartment, and wondering why she didn't hit him with the bottle, scream her head off and run. 

As she watched him bend over to grab the beer from the bottom shelf, she grinned to herself. 'Oh yeah.' she thought as she checked out the way his board shorts stretched across his taut ass, 'That's why.' 

His eyes met hers as he took a long swallow and sat down again, so close she could see the condensation from the bottle as it trailed down his chin. She watched it travel down his neck, pooling in the dip of his collar bone, and she swallowed audibly. 

"Do I make you nervous Sara?" Zack grinned wickedly at her, taking both their bottles and putting them down on the ground. He leaned into her, his breath hot on her cheek.  Sara nodded slightly. "But not enough to kick me out." He whispered in her ear. "Right?" 

Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her again, hard and hot, so there was no mistaking his intentions. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. This time, fully awake, her tongue clashed with his.  

Her kiss was fierce, a combination of exhaustion and desire and excitement for all that lay ahead. He drew back, gasping a little. "Wow." He ran his hand through his hair. 

She lounged back, her hands behind her head, and smirked. "So, is it true? Do you wish we could all be California girls?" He laughed. 

"Right now, give me east coast over west any day." He held out his hands to her. "But why don't I show you what the West Coast has to offer?" 

Sara put her hands in his, the electricity between them practically lighting the shadows that had gathered as the sun glowed it's last rays above the ocean waves.  

Zack led her to the corner of the balcony, pressing her back against the glass. As he kissed her again, his hands wandered down her waist, and up her thighs, calloused hands scratching her smooth skin. He cupped her between her thighs, the heel of his hand pressing against her clit.  

Sara whimpered, her thighs spreading a little more. He dragged his fingers up her slit, his middle finger pressing between her lips, while his outer ones caused goose bumps on her bare flesh. 

Her hand reached down between them, easily finding his cock. She grasped him through his shorts, smiling at his gasp. Stroking him through the thin polyester, she could feel the throb and heat, and her pussy throbbed and drenched his hand in response.  

He stroked through the wetness, bringing his finger to her lips. Painting her with her juices, he leaned in to lick her lips. "Mmm. Sweet." He murmured.  

He got to his knees. "What do you say, New York? Can I have a real taste?" He looked up at her, his gaze challenging, as he drew her panties down. She nodded.  

Parting her lips, his breath cool on her clit, he started there. He took it in his mouth, giving her a long, hard suck. The tip of his tongue flicked up the length and circled around the hood. She trembled as he lapped at her, slowly inserting two fingers into her hole.  

Sara thrust forward, not wanting slow. "Fuck....damn it. Zack..." She couldn't even complete a sentence. His attentions had her out of breath and on the verge of coming faster than with any other guy she'd ever had.  

Normally that would be a bad thing but right now? All she wanted was to have that length of hot, hard, meaty flesh jammed into her cunt.  

"Not yet." His voice was muffled, the vibrations travelling through her core. Her knees threatened to give way and she gripped the railing for support. His tongue bathed her lips, slipping between them and replacing his fingers.  

"Just. A. Little. More." She gasped and cried, and within a heartbeat she was coming. He stood up, ripping into the condom from his wallet and sheathing himself before she was even done. She was still peaking as he turned her around and pushed her against the railing.  

His hand lifted her skirt, stroking her clit, and keeping her coming as he thrust into her from behind. She clenched around him as he slowly fucked her, his free hand reaching into her bra to play with her peaked left nipple. She moaned and thrust backwards.  

"Fuck me Zack. I won't break." 

Holding her tight, he slammed into her, a groan escaping him. "God Sara. You feel fucking fantastic. So tight, so wet...." He rocked forward, his cock head pressing against her in just the right place that made her scream. 

Sara felt like sobbing. He filled her to overflowing and yet her cunt expanded, making more room for him to plunge into her, pushing her to come harder, to come again and again, and she felt it dripping down her thighs, escaping when he'd pull out, only to be forced back. 

She came once more, her voice barely audible over the blood pounding in Zack's ears. He sucked in his breath, his relief hard and fast.  

And as they both caught their breath, they stood there, gazing into the night, the traffic still buzzing below. Sara smiled as Zack kissed the back of her neck.  

New coast. New job. New life. 

New Sara.  

"Welcome to the wild west, New York. We're glad you came." 


©Miz Angell 2014