Illustration help for writers

The coast has been ravaged by dreary grey, hail and uncertainty of whether we will get a white Christmas…

Well, we certainly know it will be a moist Christmas.  On the coast, it’s always moist.  Santa always shows up in his squishy clamming boots dragging his crab trap.  I’m pretty sure he’ll put sand in my stocking.  Hopefully I’ll get a male crab, cooked and served with butter.

As I dealt without internet intermittently for the last two days, I had time to sink into my thoughts and write a lot.  There are so many writers out there blogging away endlessly, writing, writing, like I am… and then they hit the wall of the cover art.  I got lucky.  I’m already a graphic designer and illustrator, which made it really easy for me to get out there and self-publish start to finish.

On the Kindle boards, there are always writers looking for illustrators.  In my writing forum groups, they always have writing contests but as far as I can tell, the winner gets some recognition time within the forum.  It’s great feedback and a wonderful esteem boost- but wouldn’t it be dazzling to have the winner get a free illustration cover?  I thought about that the last couple days…

I work for the State once a week, caring for a lovely disabled person, who needs help writing her memoirs.  Every week we talk about if she’s written at all.  I encourage her to write, but I can’t really do it for her.  She has no idea what I do in my spare time.  I long to talk to her about such things but we are supposed to keep our lives separate in a client-patient way, it’s against the rules to go beyond the check list of what we can do for these people.

Sometimes, screw the rules, people need help finding their voice.  I know I needed help with mine.  I’m going to give a free cover illustration for someone that really needs it.

I’d like to propose, for the new Year coming, a short little writing spree.   A gathering, here.   Whatever you’re working on, send a snippet chapter of your book, and post it here.   We’ll run the contest from now til January 31, 2013.   Everyone votes.  We’ll pick someone that really needs a good cover.

I do want to make sure that it’s fair.

Thoughts or suggestions?  Let’s hear them all.

 

Using descriptives to write about s.e.x.

Just pondering the mysteries of writing, openly.   It’s a nasty weather day out today, and I had a few moments to peruse and clean out my filtered spam~ my goodness, barelylegal.com and a Playboy ad, how’d you get in there?

As I browsed some sites today looking for writer’s forums, I realized that there is such an outrageous smut-o-meter about erotica and romance.  What one person calls smut, another calls eloquence.  What another calls pornographic, another yawns and says it’s boring them to tears.  Every writer is different, and that’s wonderful because there are all kinds of genre tastes and writing/reading preferences.

I joined a great writer’s forum today.  EROTICA.  Yep that’s me.  Count me in.  I have a crazy, monogamous life and an insatiable appetite to write about love and intimacy.

Read some chapters from others works.

Sat back in my chair and gulped dryly…. holy mama of where’s the condiments…?

Where’s the cheese, the mayo, the spicy jalapenos?  A juicy surprise mess in my lap?  Augh.   My palate was so parched- orally and sexually.  I couldn’t visualize the concept of what the writer was trying to get me to feel.  I guess the moment was lost on me.

I love descriptive writing in all its forms and my friskiness sags when I read minimals on special moments.  It’s fiction, guys.  Lovely, naughty, spicy fiction.  Have fun with it.  Play, experiment.

I always believed the goal is to try our damndest to slip you into the character and feel every emotion possible- all the roller-coaster highs and lows and pleasures in between.

Sex is erotic, special and perhaps shouldn’t be described as stereo instructions..

oh you know… “he stuck peg A in hole B and used the big screwdriver with that special oil can and then the neighbor’s wife showed up with her man’s hammer and the babysitter and she took pictures.”

That was just as erotic as the screwdriver I used this morning to swap license plates on my rig in the snow.  And oh yes, I used the flat AND the Phillips.  How risque of me.

It could be a disaster downfall of mine one day… flunking a writing course because I can’t write in a stereo instruction manual way.. because I never could draw abstract either.  I get lost in detail, for hours, drawing- and it’s identical with my writing.

I must remind myself, there are those that need the complete immersion of the experience.. and the “quickie” for others that don’t wish to be overcome with wordage.

For me, then there’s the big question… why skimp on the special?  Sometimes I use the basic body part words but mostly I enjoy different ways to describe something.  There are a million different ways to describe a woman’s most intimate parts, along  with the five senses.

I guess I’m heavy into condiments and some people love it dry.

 

 

A big thank you

To all of you who snagged your free copy of “Finding Tina 1”, thank you thank you for taking the journey.  I have to admit, my biggest obstacle to publishing was not if it would be popular, or if it would sell well- but writing reminds me of a peephole shining through a wall in a darkened room.   Writing’s not just a neurological response to stimuli from the brain to the hand.   It’s a snapshot of another person’s imagination.  Or, a peephole.

We get a dazzling glimpse of the writers thought and desires and fears by daring ourselves to look through the peephole.  It may not be the scene we want sometimes- it may be dark, too intense, too erotic, too far out-  but still, we read (er, look) because life is all about the experiences on the journey.

And for me?  I felt completely naked publishing my work, as if I were an exhibitionist spreadin’ my wares for sale, as if I slowly undressed in front of millions of masses.  It was terrifying, embarrassing, beautiful, and empowering.  A euphoric rush at its most natural finest.  I think I’m hooked, folks.

There’s no glass ceiling to what we can achieve, and if one does try to cap my freedom with its teasing glossiness of YOUCANT, I’m gonna swing at it with my girlish fists until I break through.   There’s so much left for me to write, so many stories stuck in my head.

I want to be one of those women who can sit in my well-worn rocking chair with my grandkids in my arthritic lap and kindly reminisce about the days I was an erotica novelist.  Not to shock them.  But to let them know I wasn’t afraid to live the way I wanted.

For now, we keep on writing and working our day jobs. 🙂