Six Sentence Sunday #2

It's another Six Sentence Sunday! My apologies for missing last week's; it was so crazy here in my non-writing life that I think I spaced it until after the sign-up was already closed.

Just my luck, yes?

Anyway, I was doing a little digging a couple of weeks ago and found about 8000 words of a story I had started about three years ago. It ended up buried beneath a mountain of homework and 80+ hours a week at work. Then there was a baby, and those little bundles of joy are also little brain matter vaporizers.

And so this little piece languished until I unearthed it. While still trying to decide where to go with it, I decided to toss it up for SSS this week.

The story is a runaway slave named Ravaise whose past has caught up with her after two years of freedom. She knows the stakes, and she knows what will happen if she continues to run. On the other hand, she also remembers the torture and humiliation of her years as property serving a petty tyrant whose entire power base was in possessing the biggest and the best.

And Rave was the best that got away.

"Do you know what love means for a concubine?" She shuddered. "Do you know what freedom means to slaveborn, my love? I swore myself to you, but I will not allow you to destroy them for this."

Zhandar was poison with its rapacious lords and grasping merchant princes in a rotted den of Old Guard fighting like starving dogs against the New Regime, but it was a poison she had taken in with her mother's milk. "If I must, I will go back with him."

Thanks for stopping by! I hope you enjoyed what is only the beginning of Rave's difficulties, the poor thing. Stop by Six Sentence Sunday for more snippets from awesome writers, and I'll see you next week!

Men, lovely men!

Welcome to the Men of May Bloghop, my lovelies, where we share our favorite inspiration for the men in our stories, the men in our lives, and the men in our hornypants!

Y'know, the hilarious thing about this whole thing is that I'm really not a big ogler of the mancandy. My biggest turn-ons are intelligence (to include razor-sharp sarcasm), rugged Alpha confidence, and a touch of humility to know his place in the world. So I'm not really all that attracted to looks, though they're quite a bonus.

And in movies n' such, my friends make fun of me. I tend to "ooh" and "ahh" the dirty, sweaty ones. Usually while they're on horseback. Or -ahem- packing serious heat.

I'm about to totally lift my skirt and show the "GEEK" that's embroidered on my hornypants, but hey, geeks need love, too!

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Christopher Judge in Stargate SG-1. Now, I know it can't just be me. There were plenty of opportunities in that show for some serious drooling, and they had Christopher topless so often it was almost a tradition.

But in all honesty, when he was geared up and trampling through the jungles of distant planets or hand-to-hand with the Goa'uld and busting ass I was getting hot under the collar.

I mean, look at that! Dual-wielding some serious weaponry while still showing off all that chiseled wonderfulness. He's like Rambo, only HAWT!








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"I aim to misbehave."

I mean, it's Nathan Fillion, so he's always hot. But Mal. Firefly, and then Serenity.

Oh yeah, Mal. I'd totally misbehave with him.

Again...

...and again...

...and again...

Honestly, there are so many others it's almost a shame that I can't put them all up here. However, there will always be other opportunities to talk about men, delicious men.

If you're interested in seeing other lovely men and setting your hornypants on fire, check out what the other bloggers are saying for the Men of May!

Thank you, NNP

Now, while I could never say anything nearly as well as Sherry did, I can at least tell the world about my appreciation for all the work that Naughty Nights Press has done for me.

I'm a brand-new author awaiting the grueling editing process that all writers face (rumor has it gets easier, yes?) and dread, but at the end of the editing, formatting, and the awesome cover artists who labor tirelessly to provide all of NNP's authors with beautiful and eye-catching covers for their books, I know I'm going to have a finished product I can be damn proud to call mine.

The thing of it is, it never occurred to me that the entire publishing industry --from writer to editor to cover design to publisher-- is filled with nothing but artists. At least, not until I started doing my homework and researching agents and publishers back in 2004. In fact, I remember because it was shortly after Miss Snark made her debut in the blogosphere. I still miss Killer Yap. Until then, I thought I was the only artist in the entire publishing process.

I lol at my naïveté. I really do.

Recently I read The First Five Pages by Noah Lukeman, and while he was talking about editors in this section, it really applies to every single person involved in bringing an unpublished manuscript onto the bookshelves:

"Master editors are artists themselves. They need to be. Not only can they perform all the tasks of a great editor, but they'll also bring something of their own to a test, give the writer a certain kind of guidance, let the writer know if a certain scene --artistically-- should be cut... They'll never impose their will or edit for the sake of editing, but like a great actor, let it grow within them and then suggest changes that arise from the text itself."

This next line is fantastic: "Like the great Zen master who creates priceless calligraphy with one stroke, the master editor can transform an entire page with one single, well-placed word."

Don't you love that?

And while we all know that Ms. G has fantabulous taste, it was humbling and an honor to receive that acceptance letter in my email box. A good eye for story and writing, as well as knowing what your market wants makes a good publisher a savvy and powerful ally to have in your corner as a writer.

I feel absolutely at my best to know that I have such an amazing team backing me. Soon as my first work is available for purchase, you'll see what I mean, too.

So thank you so much, Naughty Nights Press. Thank you, Ms. G.