Friday

Just got my copies of 'Yes, Sir', edited by the lovely Rachel Kramer Bussel.

Included for your reading pleasure is my story 'Under his hand I blossom', and eighteen others by fabulous writers including Alison Tyler, Donna George Storey, Sommer Marsden, Chelsea Summers, Shanna Germain, Lisette Ashton, and Rachel herself.

Available here, and the book has its own blog here.


Meanwhile, here in Scotland it's wild, wild, stormy and wet. Horizontal rain, wind that's sweeping the schoolkids down the road, which is a river. The wind is boiling in the chimney. It's perfect weather for Rain research, and a good day to write in bed. Miles to go before I sleep, and many words to write. Off I go ...

Apologies

for long silence, stop, battering away at novel, stop, whisker away from half way mark, stop,

Okay, okay. I can take a breath and write something with a proper voice. Just that I feel underwater at the moment, figuratively (and literally, on Sunday, when me and the boyf accidentally hit a water main. Hidden behind the wall. I had no idea water made THAT MUCH NOISE or came out so fast. Shudders. An hour of panic and prayers and Polish plumbers later, and the nightmare was over. But I'm still jumpy when I hear a running tap.)

Otherwise, I'm submerged pretty much constantly in the novel right now. Lost in it. I don't know if it's making sense, but it is making me horny, so something must be working.

And maybe it's just me, but focussing this hard means I let everything else slide. Tonight I shall make a grand effort and wash my hair - in another 35,000 words I shall probably go out and drink til I fall over.

Message ends.

Quick round up

My wee flash 'Rat Race' will be appearing in here in June! Yay!

Edited by Alison Tyler, published by Cleis Press.

Novel news: Bed time reading gets mixed up with the novel writing. I should know to abstain, or at least match the current book on my bedstand with the subject of the novel. Right now I'm reading 'The Ethics Toolkit' and it doesn't blend well. I just caught myself making a note to consider the sexual philosophy of my characters.

No. No, no, no. I just want to write a pacy, sexy, noirish good read with no big pretensions. I mean, I'm dealingn with rubber dresses here. They just don't say a whole lot of 'existential', really, now do they?

Other news - hillwalking! Ah! Babies being born, left right and centre! Aha! Frost and sunshine and general upturn in mood as the Grand Life Plan possibly just maybe shimmers into focus ahead! All good. Plus I've just found that there's a man who can beatbox while he plays the flute ...



Sweet.

Lupercalia

Of course, it's Valentine's day too. But you'll hear plenty about that elsewhere, so I'd like to draw your attention instead to some wolves.

Lupercalia is a festival in honour of the she-wolf and the coming of Spring. (I'm hazy on the details, but it seems to involve thongs and a whole lot of whipping.)

I've never seen a wolf. One day, I'd love to. I've always wanted to visit America and go to Yellowstone and all those amazing national parks that I always think of in crisp Ansel Adams monochrome.




What might spoil this plan is if the wolves are culled before I get the chance to make a trip over the water.

Not only are the US government planning to remove the protection of the wolves' endangered status, but they're also planning to sanction the hunting and killing of hundreds of wolves.

from the NRDC website:

“...the Bush administration wants to treat wolves like vermin instead of an endangered species. It’s trying to reverse one of the most successful wildlife recovery programs in U.S. history.”'

Leaving aside sentimental romantic ideas about how cool and wolfy wolves are, this is just effing stupid. You can't take predators out of the food chain. Wolves are less of a danger to humans than dogs are. Senator Butch Otter (I'm not laughing at his name, really, this is a serious post) and the anti-wolf people need some re-education. And the wolves need some help before they're wiped out.

So, my American friends and visitors, would you do something really romantic today?

Write to your representative and protest the removal of gray wolves from the endangered species list, and spread the word. I would if I could but I don't think I could fake the accent.

... and meanwhile, a happy, loving, ass-whipping, thong-wearing, smutty wolf-howling Valentines-Lupercalia-spring festival to every man, woman and beast out there.

Thirsty?

Researching an erotic novel takes you to some strange places. Isn't this gorgeous?




I was looking for rubber dresses and some semi-abstract fetish photographs, but stumbled on this. I wish I could find a way to turn one chapter of the contemporary novel I'm writing into a surreal scene that's a little furry round the edges.

Sigh ... I have a lot of things I want to write about, including a ramble on anthropomorphism, a 'sex in the rain' story, and a story about orgasm - but chapter eight calls. Seems I can only concentrate on one thing at a time. If that ...

Absolutely not a honey trap*

You know, you have those days - the writing's gone tits up and there's nothing on TV, and while idly surfing the internet something catches your eye and you're suddenly struck with a great idea:

"I know, I'll join M16."

And it's all terribly cool, only you can't tell anyone except your British spouse and your British parents and that must be done out of the side of your mouth, quietly, while winking furiously, and you most certainly mustn't tell people on your blog that you're about to don a special rubber spy suit and become a member of the secret intelligence service - so, I'm not. You know. I'm not applying to be a honeytrap. Because they "absolutely" don't do that, it says, and anyway some of you are, good god! foreigners, so I wouldn't be able to say.

I've blown it already, haven't I?

Oh, and just because I am really quite seriously paranoid about these kinds of things and through a mix of information gathered from Kafka novels and The Man From Uncle, I expect to be shortly disappeared for taking the piss out of M16, so if you don't hear from me in a week then please can someone come and feed the cat?

*Many of the details in this post have been changed. For example, I don't have a TV. Clever, huh? It's part of my secret smoke screen. Also, I don't have a cat, even though I'd really like one. It would be incompatible with operations.