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The Cat As Muse

by | August 28, 2015 | | 6 Comments

Elizabeth Black
writes in a wide variety of genres including erotica, erotic romance, and dark
fiction. She lives on the Massachusetts coast with her husband, son, and three
cats. Visit her web site, her Facebook
page, and her Amazon Author Page.

My last few ERWA
posts have been quite serious, so I wanted to keep things light this month.
Writers often talk about their muses, including writers whose works have
inspired them. I’ve long been inspired by Shirley Jackson, Stephen King, Joe
Lansdale, Edgar Allan Poe, Dorothy Parker, and Oscar Wilde. Writers also talk
about the support they get from their family and friends. Some have a mentor or
two. I’m fortunate enough to have a great deal of support from my husband and
my writer friends, especially on Facebook. I know that plenty of writers are
shunned by their parents, siblings, and spouses who especially don’t take
erotic fiction seriously. They want to support the writers in their midst, but
they wish they wrote “real” books. I can’t count the number of times
I’ve been looked down upon because I erotic fiction and romance. The genres get
a lot of grief they don’t deserve, especially when it comes to romance. Romance
is the most successful genre out there. It deserves more respect.

I consider pets to
be an unusual muse. Our pets are part of our families, and they give us
unconditional love. We feed them and give then a safe place to live and they
repay us by doting on us, curling into our laps, and displaying cute behavior
that turns us into puddles of delighted goo. Cats and writers seem to go
together like, well, cats and writers. Probably the most famous literary cat
lover is Ernest Hemingway, whose polydactyl cats are the stuff of legend. Edgar
Allan Poe had trained the family cat to sleep on his wife Virginia’s chest to
keep her warm since she suffered from tuberculosis. Mark Twain said “Some
people scorn a cat and think it not an essential; but the Clemens tribe are not
of these.”

Joyce Carol Oates
described the soothing calm she feels from her cat. “I
write so much because my cat sits on my lap. She purrs so I don’t want to get
up. She’s so much more calming than my husband.” Science fiction writer
Philip K. Dick wrote the following of his cat, Willis:  “Willis, my tomcat, strides silently
over the pages of that book, being important as he is, with his long golden
twitching tail. Make them understand, he says to me, that animals are really
that important right now. He says this, and then eats up all the food we had
been warming for our baby. Some cats are far too pushy. The next thing he’ll
want to do is write SF novels. I hope he does. None of them will sell.”

Neil
Gaiman, Ray Bradbury, and William S. Burroughs were owned by cats.  T. S. Elliot loved cats so much he wrote
poems about them that were turned into an award-winning, long-running
musical. 

I have
long been a cat lover, and their antics have inspired me so much I’ve included
some of my own in my fiction. Below is a picture of (from top to bottom)
Beowulf, Domino, and Scully. Domino is the matriarch. She was the first kitten
born to Oreo, whom I will talk about below. Yes, I have a cat named Scully. I
used to have a cat named Mulder but she died several years ago from kidney
failure. I like to tell people she was abducted by aliens.

My cats have
appeared in many of my stories. It’s my way of keeping them with me at all
times and making them immortal. Beowulf appeared in my short story The Party Crasher, which was published
by Scarlet Magazine in the U. K. It was one of my first published stories. One
of Beowulf’s nicknames was Mr. Fuzzyboy. Sadly, he died suddenly in January,
2015. I still miss him. This is Beowulf, showing off.

Here is the scene in
The Party Crasher when Beowulf made
his appearance. It’s Olivia’s birthday, and a man she’d been seeing (Fred) who
does not awaken her passions invited a medium to her surprise birthday party.
Madame Persephone quickly homes in on Jeremy, a friend of Olivia’s Olivia lusts
after. The resulting séance becomes quite comical.

The Party Crasher – Excerpt

Madame Persephone laced her thick
fingers together and looked around the room. She pointed to three guests,
including Fred, and asked them to take a seat at the table. She then asked
Olivia to take the seat next to her. That left one seat open.

She sniffed the air again. She
held out her hands, and her fingers danced on the air. She turned slowly, and
faced the kitchen.

“You, young man,” She
pointed to Jeremy. “I need you here. I have a strong feeling about you,
that you are especially sensitive.”

So Jeremy is “especially
sensitive” and Olivia is as thick as a rock. That made her feel just
wonderful. She doubted anything would happen during this silly séance, but she
couldn’t tell Fred to make the woman leave. Besides, the silliness could be
fun. At least the argument over Sir Paul’s divorce had finally subsided. Olivia
was afraid she was going to have to break it up, it got so heated.

“Sir –” Madame
Persephone pointed to Jeremy. “Please sit next to Olivia.” Fred
looked put out that he was not seated next to Olivia. He was between two of her
coworkers who were unable to stifle their giggling.

Madame Persephone lit the white
candles. She picked up the white sage incense, lit it, blew it out, and waved
the smoke around the table. She muttered some kind of prayer under her breath.

“We are ready,” she
said. “Someone please turn out the lights.”

One of the guests obliged. Olivia
let her eyes adjust to the dim light. Candlelight flickered on the table,
walls, and ceiling. Someone snickered in the quiet.

“All of us must be silent. I
will try to contact the spirits I sense lurking in this house. Everyone around
the table, please hold hands. Don’t break contact during the séance. That’s
very dangerous. You may trap a spirit here who doesn’t want to be here. I can’t
stress that enough.” Madame Persephone said. “Is everyone
ready?”

Olivia saw heads nod around the
table. A ripple flowed up her spine. She was a little excited about this
silliness after all. While she didn’t believe for a second that Madame
Persephone would contact any spirits, deep down she had hoped she would.

“I call to you, oh restless
spirits that may occupy this house. Speak to us,” Madame Persephone said.
She trembled, and lowered her head to her chest. She moaned. It was quite a
good show. The woman knew her stuff.

“Meeeeeeeeoooowwwww!!!!!”
Madame Persephone’s eyes bugged open. “Oh, now, Mr. Fuzzyboy, you behave
yourself.” She looked at Olivia. “My apologies. That was my spirit
guide, Mr. Fuzzyboy, making an ass of himself. He likes to show up at my
séances just to get noisy. He demands a lot of attention, and wants to talk
through me. He probably wants a treat.” Olivia realized that Mr. Fuzzyboy
sounded a lot like Fred, who was just as demanding and wanted treats for his
performances as well.

Madame Persephone closed her
eyes, and continued speaking. “Mr. Fuzzyboy, now is not the time. We can
play later.” She giggled. “Yes, I’ll get your catnip toy when I get
home.”

She rocked back and forth in her
chair, and hummed in a low voice. Glenda, one of Olivia’s coworkers, giggled.
Olivia heard someone kick Glenda under the table.

Madame Persephone bolted upright
in her chair, and stared at Olivia.

“My dear, there is someone
here who wants to speak to you.”

Olivia stared back. “Me?
Who?”

“It’s a man – definitely a
man, but he won’t tell me his name. He’s asking… what, sir?” She jerked in
her seat as if offended. “I most certainly will not ask her that, sir, not in mixed company.”

What on earth could this be about, Olivia wondered.

“How rude! Seriously, sir,
do you take me for a fool?”

“What does he want to ask
me?” Olivia asked.

“I can’t repeat what he
said. It’s… crude.”

“This sounds like fun,”
Jeremy said. Olivia pinched his hand.

“Say it anyway. I’m
curious.” Olivia insisted.

Madame Persephone squirmed in her
seat. “He wants to know if he can stick his finger in your bellybutton and
tickle you.”

Everyone laughed.

Olivia could do nothing but sit
there with her mouth hanging open. A flush rose from her chest and warmed her
face. She thanked God that in the candlelight, no one could see her blushing.

“You are ticklish in your
belly button, Olivia.”

“Shut up, Fred.” Olivia
said. To Madame Persephone, she said: “Please tell him I said ‘no.'”

“That’s what I thought you’d
say.” Madame Persephone was silent for a few seconds. “Sir, if she
won’t let you stick your finger in her belly button, I seriously doubt she
would let you do that.”

I don’t want to know, thought Olivia. Her heart jumped in her chest. She glanced
at Jeremy, who fought off laughter by biting his lower lip. Olivia felt
mortified.

Who the heck is that woman talking to?

Below is a picture of Lucky, our tuxedo cat. He’s about 12 years
old now and still acts like a kitten. He’s the most personable cat I’ve ever
met. He made a brief appearance in my short story The Wandering Cat.

Below is an excerpt
from my short erotic story The Wandering
Cat, which was originally published by eXcessica. It’s out of print now.
Oreo the cat is based on my late cat also named Oreo, who had a penchant for
clawing her way out of the house. She loved to wander around Rockport,
Massachusetts, where I live. She looked like Sylvester from the Loony Tunes cartoons.
The picture is of Oreo with her tongue sticking out, as it often did. I swear
that cat’s tongue was too big for her head. As you can see, Beowulf made an
appearance in this story, too. He got around. So did Lucky, who is also in the
story.

The Wandering Cat – Excerpt

“Oreo! It’s chow time!”

Cat refilled the cat food bowl and the water
bowl. Beowulf and Lucky ran to see their new chow, but Oreo was nowhere to be
seen. That was unlike her.

Worried, Cat turned the house upside down.
She looked behind the bed, in the closets, and under the couch. No cat. There
was only one other place where Oreo could be, and that was sitting on her
window bench.

The large Gothic window was open. No cat sat
on the plush window bench. Cat took a closer look at the window, and saw that
the screen had been clawed. There was a hole in the screen big enough for a cat
to climb through.

Great. Oreo got out again.

Cat put on her sandals and walked outside.
She saw cat paw prints in the damp earth, and followed them through her back
yard. They ended at the fence marking Lance Hendry’s back yard.

Her heart raced. Would Oreo give her an
excuse to say something to Lance other than “Hello, how’s the
weather?” She fantasized about his scrumptious body every night. What
would his arms feel like as they wrapped around her? She wished she could
summon up the courage to say more to him than a few quick words.

Oreo gave her that chance.

She walked into his back yard. Peter
Gabriel’s music played from somewhere inside, making Cat’s heart beat all the
faster. Not only was Lance home, he was another Peter Gabriel fan.

She knocked on the back door. Her fingers
sounded muffled against the hard wood. How could he hear her over the music?
After a minute of knocking on the door, she backed up.

A Gothic window was open on the second floor.
She hoped he was up there. She felt like the rebuttal to Rapunzel. The damsel
stood below the enchanted window, and wished her man would appear in it.

“Lance? Are you there?”

No answer.

“Lance!”

A head with rumpled hair and a broad set of
shoulders leaned out of the window. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Cat took a good
look at his muscular chest and the black hair that covered it. She didn’t know
when she would get a gorgeous sight like that again.

“Hi. What’s up?”

“Have you seen my cat? Oreo? The little
black and white one?”

“The one that always gets out? No,
haven’t seen her.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She was too shy to
ask him any more questions. Muscle up
some courage, girl! Ask him how he’s doing. Something. Anything! Talk to him!

“Would you like some help looking for
her?”

“I’d love it!” Cat was so excited
over getting to spend some time with Lance that her knees knocked. What would
she say to him? For once in her life, she was speechless. Would she be able to
make enough small talk to keep him interested in her?

“Stay put. I’ll be down in a
minute.”

He came outside wearing a button-down
short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and sandals. His shock of black hair looked as if
he hadn’t combed it in several days. That was the new fashion for young men
these days. Cat was ten years Lance’s senior, but she didn’t care. Maybe today
she’s win on two counts – they’d find her cat, and she’d gain a lover.

“What’s your name again?”

“It’s Cat. Short for Catherine.”

“Cat is looking for her cat?”

She laughed. “Yes, she sure is.”

“How long has Oreo been missing?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t come when I
refilled the food bowl, and she clawed through the screen window again. I’m
scared. I hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is. She gets out often
enough. Have you looked around outside yet?”

“I’m just starting now. Want to come
with me?” Please say yes! Please say
yes!

“I’d love to. I’ve wanted to get to know
you better anyway.”

Cat’s stomach did The Happy Dance. She felt
light-headed and giddy. Lance wants to
get to know me better! All thanks to Oreo.

Below is an excerpt
from my upcoming family saga/thriller novel Secrets
and Lies, which will be published by Eldritch Press in 2016. Kate Stanwood
is my main character. Her cat Koala is based on a Snowshoe cat that owned me,
also named Koala. Snowshoes are a mix between Siamese and domestic shorthairs.
They have white paws called “boots”,  hence the name. Koala was so smart he was
scary. My husband Bill (at the time we were dating) used to live next door to
me. Sometimes Koala would sometimes get himself locked out of the house at night.
So, he’d go over to Bill’s house. Bill often stayed up late. Koala would meow
loudly until Bill came outside, and the cat would then run to my front door and
meow to be let in.  Bill would let him
in, and all would be well in the world. Koala used to do the exact same thing
to me that he is doing to Kate at stupid o’clock in the morning. The picture is
of Koala on the left and Oreo on the right. They were inseparable.

Secrets and Lies – Excerpt

Meow!!!

Kate snapped awake. She always snapped awake
at the slightest sound. She was lying on her back. Koala stared at her from his
perch on the headboard, which was designed like a bookcase.  She glared at him. He stared back and mewed.

I am
not getting up just to top off your food bowl, she thought. Koala meowed at her again. He
looked at her with that “Get up and feed me now”
expression on his cherubic little Snowshoe face. He stood and stretched. He
looked at all the books stacked in a pile next to him.  The stack teetered precariously over Kate’s
head. She knew what was coming.

She slowly reached for the water bottle
behind her on the bookcase. Koala froze, one paw touching the spine of a thick
hardback that was already threatening to tip over onto her face. She held the
bottle between forefinger and thumb in full view of the cat. He knew what was
coming, too. As if that would stop the little furball.

You
knock that book over on my head, cat, and you’re Vietnamese food in a few
hours. Koala tapped the book. Kate shook the bottle.
The cat’s eyes widened. He jumped off of the headboard and landed between Kate
and Ian, who slept through it all. He always slept through the nighttime
follies. The bed could fall through the floor and he’d sleep through it.

Koala used Ian’s shoulders as a springboard
and vaulted off of the bed. Ian said “Oof!” and rolled onto his back.
The snoring started almost immediately. Kate sighed and pushed him onto his
side. His snoring rivaled the foghorn at the end of the Cove.

She glanced at the clock: 4:51 a.m. She was
wide awake. She hated it when she woke up too early, which had always been a
bad habit of hers. Thank God she didn’t have to go to work, even though it was
a Tuesday. She could sleep through late morning once she became tired again.

She rolled out of bed and walked into the
upstairs kitchen. Koala followed her, mewing at her ankles, until she picked up
his food bowl, shook it, and placed it back onto the floor. That cat hated
eating anything that he knew had another cat’s spit on it, so she shook the
bowl until fresher contents reached the surface. Satisfied, he ate with gusto.
What a pain in the butt, but she’d never give him up for anything.

I don’t know what I
would do if I didn’t have my cats to keep me company and inspire me while I
write. They’re so important to me they’ve become a part of my fiction. Do you
have pets that inspire you to write? Do you cater to your dogs, or are you
owned by cats? Do you have unusual animals around you, like Flannery O’Connor
and her peacocks? I believe animals make some of the best muses, and they don’t
ask for anything in return but attention, food, and a place to sleep (often on
you). They are the ultimate givers of unconditional love. I wouldn’t part with
my cats for anything in the world, and I’ve immortalized them in my fiction.

If you’d like to
read my erotic fiction, feel free to visit my Elizabeth Black Amazon
Author Page. If you’d like to take a look at my darker stuff, visit my E. A. Black Amazon Author Page.

Here Be Dragons

by | August 26, 2015 | | 8 Comments

b Jean Roberta

Much has been written about writer’s block, the internal censor, and various other personal demons that interfere with the flow of inspiration. J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter novels, conceived of story-killing depression as a group of evil characters called Dementors and included them in the plot so that she could write around them, so to speak.

The last few posts here have dealt with some of the external factors, or impersonal demons, that discourage writers. Changes in the publishing industry that have resulted in dwindling rates of pay and a dwindling market for innovative work, plus the free-for-all of self-publishing, can make it look almost impossible to have a writing career.

Aside from (or in addition to) all that, broad and clichéd writers’ guidelines are unhelpful. I’ve read too many messages on publishers’ sites that say something like this: “We set up shop because we thought it was time for someone to publish interesting work that engages the reader. We like believable characters, strong plots, and fresh language. We are completely different from all other publishers.” Sometimes a shortened version of this (“Enter the unique world of XYZ Press!”) appears below an editor’s name on a rejection message. More honest guidelines advise writers to read what XYZ has already published to get a sense of what they accept.

Harassment is another thing that seems guaranteed to harm any sensitive person – as writers tend to be, since we need to be attuned to our own consciousness and our own emotional climate. Some sites, both on-line and in the real world of writers’ events, need to be marked like medieval maps with images of dragons in the wild places.

During my annual two months off from teaching, when I hope to achieve phenomenal word-counts per day, and make at least a good start on a book or two, I’ve disappointed myself. Self-doubt has set in, as usual. When I’m surrounded by students and colleagues, I dream of having the time and solitude to write. Alone in a room with a computer, some notes, and a list of calls-for-submissions, I wonder if I am too out of touch with the general zeitgeist to write anything that would be meaningful for anyone else.

If I’m below the radar, however, I’m less likely to be a target for attack than writers who engage more regularly with on-line commentators. During the past few months, while taking part in an awards contest as a judge and co-editing a “best-of” anthology, I’ve become aware of feuds, sock-puppet identities, and the trashing of writers by other writers. I know it’s possible to grow a thick-enough skin to appear impervious to insults, but I’m not sure it’s possible to prevent unexpected hostility from wrecking one’s concentration. Recovery probably requires disconnecting from the on-line world, at least temporarily.

I sometimes wonder how to develop tough-minded resistance to rejection, snark, bad reviews and threats of violence while staying open to new ideas and editing advice. I wonder if any writer has really achieved that kind of balance.

The book I’m supposed to be writing is a work of creative non-fiction (to use a broad term) on “censorship” in various forms, focusing on my personal experience. A local publisher is waiting to read my approach to political conflicts in the writing/publishing world. Reading about vicious trashing which has not affected me directly reminds me of less-drastic ideological conflicts in my “real” life during the past twenty years.

I’ve written here before about a persistent belief on the political Left that grammar is inherently racist and elitist, that the best writing is “free” (an unedited stream of consciousness), and that language should float somewhere above the specific cultures that produce it. This set of beliefs drives me crazy. I can’t agree that the most incoherent student essays are beautiful in their own way. Saying this in public, however, seems likely to get me banished by the cool kids.

Then there is the more traditional objection to anything written by or about those who are not white, male, heterosexual, and “normal.” This bias shows up in the form of some editors,’ publishers,’ and reviewers’ preferences for work written by and about white men, and in complaints within the Ivory Tower that academic standards have slipped because of the introduction of “women’s studies” and “queer” and “ethnic” or international programs.

Traditional bias can seem to come from different directions, but it is always based on the same theme. As a teenage writer, I was warned by my boyfriend at the time that I should write about boys, not girls, so that my writing would appeal to more readers. As a graduate student in the local English Department, I argued with my academic father AND my faculty advisor about “women’s lit.” My father’s themesong was, “What’s wrong with Shakespeare?” as though I wanted to remove every Shakespeare play and poem from the curriculum to make room for the work of unknown women, and possibly for gangsta rap.

Defenses of a traditional literary “canon” as the only literature worth reading seem as long-lived as the racism of 1910. This stuff is the blood-sucking vampire or the rotting zombie that will not go away quietly, and which can’t be killed with logic.

For better or worse, I will soon enter the circus of Fall Semester in the university where I teach. For academics as well as Jews, September is really the beginning of the year. I’m hoping the new and the fresh (new students, some new colleagues, newish subject-matter, cooler temperatures) will be inspiring.

Somehow, in spite of everything, I’m never completely silenced. Many other writers continue writing as well, and I know from reading their work that the Muses aren’t stingy with their blessings. To keep going, it seems as if we all have to cherish a level of optimism that looks naïve on the surface. I like the statement that things always turn out well in the end because if they aren’t going well, it isn’t the end.

Dry Canyon Observations & Inspiration

by | May 30, 2015 | | 1 Comment

By K D Grace

I’m just back from two weeks in Oregon with my sister. I always come back a bit more clearheaded and focused and with more than a few ideas for new story possibilities. Oh it’s not so much that I’m with my sister. In a lot of ways, we’d drive each other crazy under different circumstances. She’s an extrovert who can’t get enough people and activity in her life. I, on the other hand, like my doses of people small and far between and am very keen on solitary activities. But for two weeks, we balance each other out, and we totally revel in each other’s company. We take long walks, we talk and laugh into the wee hours, we have our annual Pride and Prejudice marathon while veging out on her TV room floor with popcorn and chocolate and any other decadent food or drink we can manage during that indulgent six hours. We bounce ideas off each other and just generally pick up where we left off.

I think I come back to England more clearheaded, more inspired because I’ve had a break from the routine, because for a little while I’m living completely outside my own context. Personally, I think it’s easy for writers to get so tunnel-visioned, so focused on our writing and promoting routines that we forget that walking outside our little world is the best foreplay for the writing orgasm. To be disconnected completely from the things we cling most tightly to, not only forces us to view things differently, but also opens us to inspiration in the viewing. With that in mind, here are a few things that inspired me during those two weeks, things that may very well end up in stories and novels yet to come, some of which have already have ended up on my blog.

Walks in a dry canyon

My sister lives in the high desert of Oregon, and there’s a dry canyon cut by ancient volcanoes that literally

divides the town she lives in right down the middle. A long time ago it was used as the town dump. Now it’s been cleaned up and serves as a walking path, which includes a couple of playgrounds for the kids, along with a doggie playground, and a series of nature trails that spread out over the wider stretches of the canyon floor. The place is well used and well cared for by the town’s population of 26,000 who live along either side of the 3 ½ mile rim. For convenience, the canyon was recently spanned by a bridge that was built to blend in beautifully with the colour and the geology of the canyon, the design so well thought out that even the noise of the traffic is negligible from the canyon floor.

Nature alive and dead

I’ve seen deer in the canyon, along with rock chucks, ground squirrels, birds of all kinds. This year I saw nesting scrub jays, even a nest of crows in the cliffs exercising their wings as they prepared to fledge. My sister says that on occasion there have been mountain lion sightings in the canyon and there’ll be warning signs posted when that happens. Though I didn’t get lucky enough to see one, there were the odd occasions when I felt as though I was being followed, when my skin prickled, and I turned slowly to find nothing there, but a quiver of the sagebrush behind me … no doubt caused by the breeze. That being the case, it’s not surprising that I should return to my sister’s house with visions of mountain lion shape shifters showing themselves in the desert moonlight beneath the bridge. Nor is it surprising that the idea should find its way into my blog.

And then there are the dead things one encounters in the canyon. I’m not sure why they matter to me, but they

do. On one of our walks, my sister, knowing the strange twists and turns of my mind, pointed out the well-desiccated carcass of a dead skunk off to one side of the trail. Her mind has it’s own strange twists and turns. It stunk to high heaven last fall, she told me.

It didn’t smell so bad by the time I stood over the dusty heap of flattened skin and bones taking pictures. I would have missed it completely if she hadn’t pointed it out.

She watched as I photographed the delicate skull and teeth, visible above the sun bleached remains of the pelt. You don’t get to look at wild things up close and personal when they’re alive, so dead things deserved to be honoured and observed, at least I think they do. In truth there’s something beautiful, something magical in the way nature takes back her own. The teeth and the delicate bones of the skull caught the desert sun, and the shape and structure held its own fascination, though I was relieved it no longer smelled. I don’t know why it mattered. I don’t know why a dead skunk can somehow inspire, and yet it does. Even now, after I’m home and back into my routine, it still matters for some strange reason.  And anyway, inspiration sometimes is a delayed reaction, isn’t it?

Detritus of Past Lives

The canyon used to be the city dump back when the hearty settlers moved in from the more ‘hospitable’ parts of the west to practice dry land farming and cattle ranching. It was a hard life, though you wouldn’t know that now as

you drive through the modern town of Redmond, with it’s slight touristy, slightly Western feel, or walk along the canyon and see the runners and mothers pushing prams and people walking dogs. But there are still a few places along the cliffs where mangled, rusted remains of cars and farming equipment and tangles of baling wire are scattered in decaying heaps, now blending in so well with the shades of kaki and burnt umber of the canyon that they’re hardly noticeable except to someone who only ever gets there once a year, someone who wonders what stories are hidden in the twisted metal heaps aging in the glare of the desert sunshine.

Detritus of Present Lives

The cliff tops above the canyon are lined with prosperous housing developments, trailer parks and building sites. My sister and I walked a path behind a trailer park and then out through a new, well-landscaped housing development to get down into the canyon. The stretch behind the trailer park will, no doubt, someday be built upon as well, but for now it fascinated me in that it contains what was left behind of the houses, or perhaps trailers that were there before. I know that children from the trailer park play in the mounds of dirt along the irrigation ditch that runs through the wasteland behind. I noticed one high mound with a shovel standing upright in the earth, and I wondered, in the way storytellers do, who was buried beneath that mound of dirt and what tale were buried there with them?

Where my sister and I crossed back into the trailer park to head on to her house, there was a deserted pickup truck filled with what looked like the contents of an apartment quickly evacuated. My sister told me the truck has been sitting there abandoned for months. The police ticketed it, but the ticket blew away, and still the truck sits there. She told me this while I rapidly snapped photos of said truck and my mind raced back to the mound of dirt and the shovel. We both noticed the badly battered rodeo dummy buried beneath a weathered cane rocking chair and a broken computer desk. She says there were actually lacy women’s panties hastily dropped behind the vehicle early on, and we speculated as to whether that was a part of the story of the truck or possibly just teenagers trying to find a bit

of privacy for a feel-up behind. Either way, it got tucked away into my mental file cabinet for further perusing as necessary.

After that dusty walk, we decided to reward ourselves with an ice cream cone from Dairy Queen, and while we partook, I shared with her the story I could see forming in my imagination – sexy shape shifters, writer turned investigators, foul play, sexy encounters in a dry canyon. She listened and nodded and occasionally threw in an idea of her own between licks to her ice cream cone.

Now, back home in my own space, walking the places that are familiar to me, the places inspire me, preparing a post that I hope will inspire others, I find myself thinking of what I’ve brought back from those two weeks and how those experiences allow me to slip back into my own life and my own routine with a view slightly altered, with a sense of purpose a bit more focused and hopefully with my senses and my imagination a little sharper from the experience.

Valuing Our Work

by | April 23, 2015 | | 14 Comments

by Lucy Felthouse

I had a conversation with someone recently that went something like this:

Woman: Oh, you’ll have to lend me one of your books to read.

Me: I thought you were buying one? (I’d previously given her a business card with a link to my website, etc)

Woman: Oh, I was. But then I thought I didn’t want to spend any money on it, in case I didn’t like it.

Me: (in a jovial tone of voice) That’s my livelihood you’re taking away.

Woman: I’m not! I just wanted to lend one, then I’d give it back.

Me: What, with sticky pages?

This then, fortunately, diverted the attention away from the conversation and made everyone giggle, and it wasn’t brought up again. But it made me think: what value is put on books? And I mean in all genres, not erotica specifically.

From what I can see, not much. Why do people balk at spending a couple of quid/dollars on an eBook (paperbacks, of course, are a different kettle of fish as they’re usually more expensive) which will hopefully give them hours of reading pleasure (and maybe other kinds of pleasure, too!), and possibly then be read again sometime in the future? Yet they’ll think nothing of spending more on a cup of coffee, which will be gone within half an hour, and not have any lasting impact on their life. The cup of coffee would have been made very cheaply, quickly and easily. Sure, it probably tastes good, but that’s it.

A book wouldn’t have been written cheaply, quickly or easily. Writing isn’t any of those things. Yes, some people can write much faster than others, but that still doesn’t make it an easy task. It’s hard work. Enjoyable, yes, but still hard work, and, most importantly, a valid job/occupation.

I wonder if this is what it comes down to: people thinking writing isn’t a proper job. Because, for the most part, we can set our own hours and have some freedom, it means it’s not real. Therefore, if it’s not a proper job, then we shouldn’t expect to be paid properly.

Naturally, people “in the know” realise this is a load of rubbish. Although I don’t write full-time, I’m gradually building up my volume of writing to boost my overall income. I don’t rely on it, because I can’t. Not by a long stretch. Therefore, it’s important that my work (and every other writer’s) is valued. Even if it’s not a full-time job, it is still a job. Just because we enjoy it, love what we do, doesn’t mean we should do it for free, or a pittance. Folk mistakenly believe that all published authors earn a fortune and therefore, what’s one freebie here or there?

Sorry, not happening. I already run quite a few giveaways on my site, in my newsletter, as part of blog hops, and so on. And they are for people actually interested in reading my work. I hope that they will read one of my books, like it, and buy another. Maybe recommend it to their friends. If they don’t like it, fair enough. Reading is subjective and, as much as I’d like to, I know I can’t please everyone. But at least there’s a chance of gaining another valuable reader. In the case of the woman above, I’m not sure I would have, regardless of whether or not she enjoyed my book. After all, if she’s not willing to spend money, take a chance on a book/writer, then she clearly doesn’t value writing.

I would love to hear your comments on this. Am I crazy? Over-sensitive? What? Should I just lend her a book?

Happy Reading,
Lucy

*****

Author Bio:


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and
erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100
publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several
editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic
Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and
co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house.
She owns Erotica For All, is book
editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth
of The Brit Babes. Find out more
at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk.
Join her on Facebook
and Twitter, and subscribe to her
newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Writing For Exposure And Other Frustrations

by | March 28, 2015 | | 8 Comments

Elizabeth Black writes in a wide variety of genres including erotica, erotic romance, and dark fiction. She lives on the Massachusetts coast with her husband, son, and three cats. Visit her web site, her Facebook page, and her Amazon Author Page.

—–

Several years ago, I
made the huge mistake of applying for a writing job from an online site that
required a few “sample articles” as examples of my work. I was to
post them on the web site’s forum, and get as many views as I could. I wasn’t
about to write anything new, so I posted my old stand-by article about the time
I tested the Altoids
mints blow job on my husband. That post alone got more views than anything
else that was posted, and lots of people posted. I posted at least one other
previously published article, which also got an amazing number of views – more
than anyone else. I was confident that I had jumped through all the hoops and
was on my way to paid employment.

I didn’t get the
job.

I didn’t realize
until later that the web site was farming for free content. I did all the
legwork proving the time and product as well as promoting my posts, and the site
didn’t have to do a damned thing. I learned my lesson. I have never again sent
sample articles to any writing job application that required them. That said, I
understand reputable companies need to see examples of my writing to determine
if I’m a good fit. I realize that. Instead of creating new content, I send
links to existing articles so the company may see what I have already
published. Sometimes I get a response, but I usually don’t hear back from those
companies. Now, I don’t bother to send anything to companies asking for sample
articles unless I can provide links. Burned once, shame on you. Burned twice,
shame on me.

Why are writers so
often asked to work for free? Or for “exposure”? Promising a vague
form of exposure is another way of getting free content. There are some things
I do as a means of promotion for which I am not paid. Writing on this blog is
one of them. I gain an audience writing here, and it keeps my name out there in
between books. I’ve written stories for charity anthologies because I like
contributing to a good cause. However, I will not simply give someone a free
story or article just because. No more content farming scams. No more free
writing for web sites that make scads of money from advertising and
subscriptions.

Designer Dan
Cassaro ran into a similar “opportunity” when he was invited by
Showtime – a company clearly needing to rub dimes together to pay for paper
clips – to join a design “contest” he felt was really only a way of
fishing for free content. The contest involved promoting the Floyd
Mayweather-Marcos Maidana boxing match. Those who submitted designs for
Showtime’s use could – to quote the message Cassaro had received from Showtime
– “be eligible for a chance to win a trip to Las Vegas and have your
artwork displayed in the MGM Grand during fight week!” He let Showtime and
everyone else within earshot know exactly what he thought about it, dripping
with sarcasm:

“It is with great sadness that I must
decline your enticing offer to work for you for free. I know that boxing
matches in Las Vegas as extremely low-budget affairs, especially ones with
nobodies like Floyd “Money” Mayweather. I heard he only pulled in 80
Million for this last fight! I also understand that a “mom and pop”
cable channel like Showtime must rely on handouts just to keep the lights on
these days. Thanks a lot, Obama! My only hope is that you can scrape up a few
dollars from this grassroots event at the MGM Grand to put yourself back in the
black. If that happens, you might consider using some of that money to
compensate people to do the thing they are professionally trained to do.”

Why are writers (and
artists in general) so often expected to work for free – or for
“exposure”, as the request is often sugar-coated? Would you expect
your dentist to give you a root canal for free? Do you pay the housecleaner?
The car mechanic? Do your plumber and electrician walk away without monetary
compensation once they do the job you’ve begged them to do because they are
professionals and you are not trained to do the work they do? So why expect a
writer to write for free?

Science fiction
writer Harlan Ellison had plenty to say about those who expect writers to
provide free content. A
DVD company asked him if he’d let them use a very long and very interesting
on-camera interview about the making of “Babylon Five”. He said,
sure, pay me. The woman who called was flabbergasted, as if she expected him to
just fork over his hard work for free – even though she received a
paycheck. Here’s a portion of what he had to say about it.

“Does
your boss get a paycheck? Do you pay the Telecity guy? Do you pay the
cameraman? Do you pay the cutters? Do you pay the Teamsters when they schlep
your stuff on the trucks? Then how—don’t you pay—would you go to a gas station
and ask me to give you free gas? Would you go to the doctor and have him take
out your spleen for nothing? How dare you call me and want me to work for nothing!”

If you want to read his entire rant – and it’s
worth reading – check out “Harlan
Ellison On Getting Paid” at Print Magazine. There is also a link at
that page to a video of his rant. It’s from the film “Dreams With Sharp
Teeth”.

Ellison is not alone. This “we won’t pay
you” schtick is something lots of writers and other artists hear. Last
year, hula hoop performer Revolva
was contacted by Harpo, Oprah Winfrey’s company, to perform at Oprah’s “Live
The Life You Want” event stop in San Jose, California. Revolva was
thrilled –  until she realized Harpo had
no intention of compensating her for hours, effort, or travel. In fact, Harpo
intended to not pay any of the creative workers it contacted, despite the fact
that tickets
to this event cost anywhere from $99 to $999 just to get in the door. The
events producers claimed they didn’t have the budget to pay performers. Yes,
that’s right. A billionaire’s tour didn’t have the budget to pay
performers. If Revolva and the other artists wanted To Live The Life They Want,
they could have it – without being paid for it. She chose to not perform. She,
like Ellison, had plenty to say about being not only asked but expected
to work for free:

“Back
to that spiritual lesson you had in store for me, Oprah. Maybe it’s because my
car broke down, and I’m struggling. Maybe it’s because I’ve been doing this for
12 years, and after all the requests for free or discount work, the one by a
billionaire’s tour was the straw that broke my back. But I thought it through,
and achieving “the life you want” is not always easy. The risks we have to
take, to transform this culture into something more nurturing, involve looking
at the way things are and saying, ‘Hey, wait. That’s not cool!'”

It’s ironic that
this tour of Oprah’s was about realizing your self-worth. Apparently, you’re
worth a great deal – as long as you don’t expect to be compensated in cold hard
cash.

Stories like these
strike a nerve with artists, including writers. They grate my teeth. All of us
get these messages, and they really harsh our cool. It’s almost as if those
doing the asking think artists create the works they create only out of
“love” or an internal drive and have no interest or understanding of
how money works. Granted, some writers do write for the love of it, but not all of them.

As Tom Cruise
said in “Jerry Maguire”, Show
Me The Money!

The corollary to
being expected to work for free is being expected to work for peanuts. We’ve
all seen the calls for submissions on places like Craigslist where a potential
employer requires an assload of work – but will only pay $20.00 for said job. I
just counted three such jobs, including one that called for you to be available on weekends. Nope, nope, nope. The
other way of parting writers from their money are Get Rich Quick schemes – something
like “7 Easy Steps To Getting Paid As A Writer”. Write a book telling
people how to make money writing a book and watch the cash pour in. I’ve seen
these ads on Facebook, and the comments are always some form of “f—
off!”

There is an old
adage in creative work like writing – aim high and work your way down. Aim
first for the pro rates. Aim for the big publishers. Aim for the best agents.
Don’t start at the bottom and work your way up because you don’t think you have
enough experience or talent. Don’t downgrade yourself. Don’t settle and demean
yourself by doing a shitload of work for a paycheck that barely covers a Big
Mac, fries, and a Coke.

The sad thing is there
are plenty of writers and other artists who will eagerly take up these offers.
They tend to be newbies who are so green they don’t know any better. They may
not feel they have a right to ask for money. Or they fall for the
“exposure” line. They see stars when Oprah or Showtime contacts them,
and they happily give over free content only to inevitably get little to
nothing out of it, or at the very least not be compensated in a way that the
very wealthy company can easily afford. As long as these people exist, the free
content farms will continue to thrive. Don’t ask to be paid what you’re worth.
Demand it. You have that right.

Blurbtastic!

by | March 23, 2015 | | 2 Comments

By Lucy Felthouse

Following on from my little rant last month about the dreaded sucknopsis, I thought I’d better do something more useful this time. And since, as you probably gathered if you read the previous post, synopses (??) are not my strong point, my natural progression was onto blurbs. Something I can do.

Yes, I am one of these rare writer-types that actually likes writing blurbs. Crazy, eh? I’ve even had folk pay me to write or re-write blurbs for them. I suspect my blurb writing skills come from the marketing side of my brain (my creative and marketing sides seem to live in a lovely harmony up in the old grey matter). When I graduated, I ended up in a PR & Marketing role and was immediately pointed in the direction of press releases, sales sheets and advertising copy, and told to “go create!”

Okay, those weren’t the exact words they used, but the bottom line is I was thrown in at the deep end. Fortunately, I discovered I did have an aptitude for writing copy that would entice consumers and retailers to buy products, and I think this is something I’ve continued to improve on over time. So now, when it comes to writing a blurb, I find it pretty easy. It does require a certain amount of distancing yourself from your work, though. It’s simple to think to yourself, oh well, this book is about X, Y and Z, if I just write that, people will get it, and buy the book.


But the thing to remember is that blurbs are meant to entice, to tempt, to intrigue. Not just tell people what the book is about (which is the difference between a synopsis and a blurb). You want to hint what the book is about (while giving enough information so that they know what the genre is, and if it’s their kind of read), but without giving away any major plot points or twists. Try and pick out the most important themes of your book and find a way to include them in the blurb. If possible, ask a question, as many people’s brains will be wired to want to know the answer to that question. And, of course, the way for them to get the answer… buy and read the book!

This may seem obvious, too, but mention your characters – or the main ones, anyway. Blurbs are fairly short and to the point, so you can’t give any great detail, but if you can present potential readers with enough information about your characters and your plot to let them know whether it sounds like a book they’d be interested in, with characters they’d like to read about, then you’re onto a winner.

Here’s one of my own blurbs as an example:

Their love is forbidden by rules, religion and risk. Yet still they can’t resist. [a lead in. Not necessary, but the publication the story was originally written for wanted a short, enticing strap line. This is what I came up with, and I liked it so much I kept it. It immediately tells you that it’s a love story, then goes on to indicate forbidden love, and risk. But then it teases – they can’t resist. So you know pretty much straight away that this is no straightforward love affair, and not a simple story.]

Captain Hugh Wilkes is on his last tour of duty in Afghanistan. [Now you know the name of the lead character, and that he’s military. You also have the setting of the story, not always necessary, but when it’s as interesting as a war zone, it’s probably worth a mention!] The British Army is withdrawing, and Wilkes expects his posting to be event-free [Now you know the character is a Brit, and that he’s expecting no drama on his tour.]. That is, until he meets his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, who awakens desires in Wilkes that he’d almost forgotten about, and that won’t be ignored. [Now you know that the potential love interest is an Afghan national, which goes some way to explain the part about their love being forbidden by rules, religion and risk. The fact that the story is M/M is now fairly obvious from the names, but the cover has two men on it – so there should be no confusion there!]

And there you have it – hopefully my notes in brackets all made sense, and pulled out what I believe are important points for a blurb. Basically, keep it short and to the point, don’t give too much away, distance yourself from the story enough that you can see what will appeal to potential readers, and remember, you’re selling your story to someone, making them think “Ooh! That sounds interesting. Click.“

If you can, get someone you know and trust to be honest with you to read the blurb. Even better if they haven’t read the story already – if they then want to read the story based on your blurb, then you know you’ve done a good job.

As with most things, writing blurbs takes practice. All publishers are different – some will literally take what you’ve written and use it, others will work with you to improve it, and others still will write something themselves. But the person that knows your story the best is you, so you’ve got the knowledge, the background, to know what will excite readers and pull them in. So it’s definitely worth spending time on your blurb, especially if it’ll be used word for word. You only have a short amount of time to make them want to click that buy button, so don’t waste the opportunity!

I hope you find this useful. Of course, things like this vary from person to person, but you may find this works for you.

Happy Blurbing!
Lucy

*****

Author Bio:


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and
erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100
publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several
editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic
Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and
co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house.
She owns Erotica For All, is book
editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth
of The Brit Babes. Find out more
at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk.
Join her on Facebook
and Twitter, and subscribe to her
newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

The Dreaded Sucknopsis

by | February 23, 2015 | | 3 Comments

by Lucy Felthouse

http://www.freeimages.com/photo/1327383

Ahh… the dreaded sucknopsis. Otherwise known as the synopsis. I’m sure many of the writers reading this post are already groaning or resembling the man in the photo at the mere mention of the word, and I don’t blame them.

A necessary evil, the synopsis is basically one big fat spoiler of your work. Describing your tale from beginning to end, including any plot twists, surprises and things to make your readers gasp. I hate writing them. There are several reasons for this. One, because of the spoiler aspect. I know that a synopsis is not something ever intended for a reader to see – otherwise what would be the point of them reading your book? They already know what’s going to happen. No, these are aimed at publishers who may potentially publish your work – they want to know that your work has a plot, a point, a beginning, a middle and an end, and so on. And they’re absolutely right. They don’t want to end up contracting something that’s crap. But it feels so wrong to me to write something down that’s saying what’s going to happen, especially since, for the most part, a synopsis is written before the actual story.

And, following on from that, often with my work I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen until I start writing. Even if I’ve done character profiles, chapter by chapter planning, etc, my creative brain often throws things in at the last minute, literally flowing from brain to fingers to keyboard, which may alter what happens next, throwing me off the line of the synopsis. Mostly, it’s a change for the better, too, so it makes sense to go along with it.

Also, writing a synopsis for something, especially if you haven’t written the book yet can make you lose all enthusiasm for the work. You’ve written four pages on exactly what’s going to happen, ending and all, and now you’re bleurgh about writing the thing. Hence the term sucknopsis – which I didn’t coin, by the way. It’s been around for a long time, and it’s easy to see why 😉

So, how do you feel about writing a synopsis? We’re all different, so maybe there are some of you out there that actually like writing them. Speak up!

Me… nah! Give me a blurb any day. Let me tease you, taunt you, and, above all, not give the plot and any surprises away! I want to make you gasp… in the best possible way 😉

Happy Reading,
Lucy x

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and
erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100
publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several
editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic
Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and
co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house.
She owns Erotica For All, is book
editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth
of The Brit Babes. Find out more
at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk.
Join her on Facebook
and Twitter, and subscribe to her
newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Keep on Keeping On!

by | January 23, 2015 | | 3 Comments

by Lucy Felthouse

I don’t talk about personal stuff online, really, so I’m sorry for being vague when I say the second half of 2014 was really tough for me. On a positive note, I got through it and came out the other side, and now, the only way is up.

But, the crappy few months had a knock on effect. I managed (somehow!) to keep on top of all my client work, my editing, etc, but my writing output went waaaaay down. My time was less, and because of all the stress and worry, my inclination wasn’t there, either. So, when I did my round up post for 2014 on my own website, where I tot up my achievements, publications, etc, my total word count for the year compared to 2013 was much lower.

I’d expected it, of course. Yes, I was disappointed, but I certainly didn’t beat myself up. How could I? I had a damn good reason for not writing as much. Plus, somehow, I actually ended up with more publications in 2014 than 2013! (32 vs 30, if you’re interested). I also bagged my very first writing award – a Golden Ankh for my erotic short story, A Taste of Rome.

So, while 2014 wasn’t a complete loss, it could have been better. And I intend to make sure 2015 is lots, lots better. And how am I going to do that?

Yep, that’s pretty much the plan! I can’t change what happened, and I can’t get that lost word count back, but I can do my best to make it up for it this year. I’ve already had one book release, and another three will be hot on its heels, with others lining up as things fall into place with my writing and my various publishers.

So, look out for what will hopefully be a very productive writing year from me! And, as the title of my post says… Keep On Keeping On!

Happy Reading,

Lucy 

*****

Author Bio:


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and
erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100
publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several
editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic
Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and
co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house.
She owns Erotica For All, is book
editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth
of The Brit Babes. Find out more
at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk.
Join her on Facebook
and Twitter, and subscribe to her
newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Do Authors Need A Support System?

by | September 28, 2014 | | 7 Comments

Elizabeth Black writes in a wide variety of genres including erotica,
erotic romance, and dark fiction. She lives on the Massachusetts coast with her
husband, son, and four cats. Visit her web site, her Facebook page, and her Amazon Author Page.

—–

Writing is essentially a solitary activity. We are alone
with our thoughts. We research in solitude. The act of writing itself is done
alone, even if you collaborate with another author. Writing is also a very
stressful field to get into. Competition is fierce and rejections are a part of
the game. Some days a writer is on top of the world, and other days that same
writer is ready to toss the entire business across the room onto a wall and
watch it go “splat”.

There is a glut of erotica and romance out there now with
everyone and her aunt self-publishing. Kindle Unlimited also figures into the
problems since writers aren’t paid unless the reader reads a certain percentage
of a book. Because of the glut, there are piss poor books out there with the
cream of the crop. The problem is finding the cream. Many writers have seen
their earnings drop over the past few quarters.

Since writing is such a difficult field to get wrapped up
in, would it help to have a support system so that you don’t end up thinking
writing is nothing more than a soul-crushing fool’s errand? I think having a
support system does help a great deal, and it’s vitally necessary to keep a
writer plunging forward.

I’m fortunate in that I have a very supportive family. My
husband is my biggest cheerleader and my 25 year old son also supports me,
although he is much quieter about it. He told his friends I write “naughty
words” with a smile on his face. While I got my start writing erotic
fiction, I also write dark fiction, horror, and fantasy. My family supports me
all the way.

My parents and sister? Not so much. They really aren’t
interested. They never ask how my writing is going. That hurts quite a bit but
I’ve accepted it. However, if I didn’t have my husband and son’s support, I
don’t know what I’d do. I’d probably have given up a long time ago.

I also get support from the writers group I’m in. We meet
every Wednesday. Not only do I get critiques, I get friendship and moral
support. That all of us have writing in common is icing on the cake. I also
have friends who support me. They’re online because we live far from each
other, but the support is there.

I think writers need a support system. I can vent about the
business whenever I like and not told all I do is whine. I can write some
pretty smutty stuff without my support system going all Church Lady on me. I
can also write some pretty gruesome stuff without anyone clutching pearls and
dropping in a dead faint. The drive to write is so strong I pick myself up
after a pitfall, with the help of others.

What about you? Do you have a support system and how well
does it function for you?

Author Behavior And Its Effect On Readers

by | August 28, 2014 | | 20 Comments

Elizabeth Black writes erotica, erotic romance, dark fiction, and horror. She lives on the Massachusetts coast with her husband, son, and four cats.

—–

Have you ever quit
reading an author because of the way that author acted on social media?

This question was
posed on Facebook by several authors. I saw it on author Rachel Thompson’s
timeline, and I wanted to know if my readers and other authors had ever done
it. I had read about allegations of child sexual abuse against Marion Zimmer
Bradley and I was already familiar with charges of homophobia against Orson
Scott Card. As I saw on Facebook and elsewhere, the news turned off many
readers as well as writers. After all, writers are readers, too.

I asked the same
question on m Facebook timeline and I received some fascinating answers.

In many cases,
yes, an author’s behavior may affect a person’s desire to get to know their
works. Diana Perrine noted that it’s “sometimes it is hard
to separate the Art from the Artist. Actors, Musicians, Authors, Painters and
Poets. If I like the art, but if I find the artist to be particularly loathsome,
I may not patronize him/her.” Tess MacKall found certain criminal acts a
deal-breaker. “If an author has committed a crime—and I’m not talking
about income tax evasion or getting caught with a prostitute—but a real crime
such as sexual abuse, murder, rape, etc., I’m never going to read anything by
that author again.” She said. “And I don’t care how talented the
author is. I will not put money in the pockets of a person like that.” Darren
Madigan brought up the career damage misbehavior can cause for an author or
celebrity: “If you’re really offended by some kind of behavior, then it
will doubtless make you not want to have anything to do with the person associated
with the behavior….  which is why
celebrities lose endorsement deals when they get caught misbehaving. ” He
said. “It’s normal and natural for people to feel alienated from
everything they associate with a person when that person behaves in a way that
offends them.”

Some authors named specific
writers. Karen Pokras Toz pointed out a fellow author had forwarded to her an
interview by Nicholas Sparks where he puts down women authors. She said
“Buh-bye.” I’ve never read Sparks either, and now I definitely won’t
touch his books since I feel insulted. Jeanne Evans has never read, and will
never read, anything by L. Ron Hubbard.

Not everyone agrees with these
assessments, however, and these disagreements make some authors controversial. Still,
It is helpful to separate the artist from his or her work. Devon Marshall said,
“For me it’s a case of don’t confuse the house with the inhabitant. What
an author (or an actor, director, or any creative person) does is create a
fiction, whether within a novel or a role or a painting, or whatever. What they
do with their creative fiction is not always who they are in reality. Liking a
person’s work doesn’t obligate me to like that person in reality. And vice
versa, I can like a person but dislike their work! It should also be borne in
mind that what we read about people on social media (be they celebrities or not)
may not always be either the whole story or even the truth.”

Raye Roeske has had personal experience with
poorly-acting or speaking authors. She said, “It’s mostly been authors/artists/whatever who have
personally been dickish to me or one of my loved ones.” More personal
experience from a reader: “I had an author follow me on twitter,
then not long after they chatted/commented on tweets, even gave me a snippet of
their book and once I said I’d bought the book they un followed me (keeping up
their follower vs followed numbers) it irritated me so unfollowed them.”
Xenia Smith said. “They then commented on the fact I’d unfollowed them.
Not really the way to keep new readers.
”

This distaste isn’t isolated to authors. Dave Gammon
said he was “very turned off a specific director that shall remain
anonymous. This individual seems to relish in correcting other people who are
simply stating their opinions and impressions and retaliating with his own
opinions as abstract as they are as facts. I think its a sign of emotional
insecurity to have to railroad someone else’s opinion because it differs from
their own. I think this individual has definitely tarnished my enthusiasm of
seeing anymore of their films.”

James Gummer was enjoying one particular author’s
works, but was turned off later. “I bought all of his books and
listened regularly to his podcast,” he said. “He acts and talks like
he wants to interact with people. But he never responded to any of my emails or
tweets when I had questions I wanted to ask.” Authors really do need to
keep up with their readers. It may be hard, but it’s necessary. One key to
success is friendly interaction.

One of the worst examples of author behavior I’ve ever
seen was described by John Hancock, who pointed out a possible explanation for
some of this behavior. He said: “I think the thing is that SOME
authors are very solitary, lacking in social skills, so when they enter social
media, they either think they can control or retaliate against fans or readers
whose reviews they don’t appreciate, or they simply come off as obnoxious
jerks.
” He described a rather horrific personal experience: “I once
wrote a negative review, in which I pointed out the misogynistic parts of the
book I found repulsive (threats of cutting off a woman’s breasts, and making
her eat them, for example). The author, and a group of his friends hounded me
and down voted all my reviews (even those for products unrelated to books) and
bragged about targeting me. Eventually I told him enough, I’d remove the review
if they’d stop harassing me. Simply not worth it. The sad thing is, everyone
once in a while, due to his robo social media campaign, I get requests to
follow him on Facebook or twitter. I would never read another book from this
person. I wouldn’t anyways, due to his repugnant attitudes towards women, but
also because he’s a bully to bad reviewers. God only knows how many bad reviews
he forced to retract, like mine.”

Some aren’t affected by an author’s actions or
statements. “I feel missing a good book or movie because of that
would just mean I can’t keep my thoughts separated and distinct in my
head,” John Paradiso said. The
opposite side would be readers who have picked up an author’s books because of
their pleasant social media personas. I doubt I would have read Trent Zelazny,
Douglas Clegg, KD Grace, or Tom Piccirilli if I hadn’t been exposed to them on
Facebook. I’d never heard of them before social media, and due to my exposure
to them and liking them as people, I discovered their works. John Ross Barnes
said much the same thing: “I have bought quite a few books by
authors I have discovered to be nice people on social media, and will continue
to do so.”

Some authors were exposed to new writers via different
formats. Christine Morgan said, “I’ve picked up books I might not have
otherwise just because the author seemed cool on a talk show or at a con or
something, yes. And I’ve avoided books for the reverse reason.” I recall
about several decades ago hearing a show on NPR in which Donald Westlake
discussed his new book “The Ax”. Westlake was such a delight and the
book sounded like such great fun that I soon after went to a bookstore and
bought it. I later devoured his Dortmunder books with great delight. Some
aren’t greatly influenced by what they read online or hear elsewhere. Jenifer Baldwin Stubbs may “try an
author because of social media…either I saw something I liked or someone I
like recommends, but I don’t let news, reviews or public behaviour really
influence my reading or watching.
”

Author radio interviews, book reviews,
and author profiles in newspapers and magazines are designed to sell books, but
they bring the author into your living room in a very comfortable and
easy-going way. You feel as if you’re right there with the author. If the book
sounds good, you’re more likely to buy it if you get a feel for the author.

And finally, Shar
Azade made the best point of all: “A lot of the authors I like are
dead. So if they suddenly got active on social media … I’d be a little
weirded out, yes.”

—–

Here’s where to find me on the web:

Elizabeth Black – Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Elizabeth Black – Twitter

http://twitter.com/ElizabethABlack

Elizabeth Black – Amazon Author Page

https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethblack

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