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Treating Hysteria- The Invention of the Vibrator

imageI’ve searched and searched though any relevant keywords I could think of, because I thought I first learned of this here. I didn’t find anything, though, so my apologies if it has already been covered.

I read somewhere, a while ago, (here? not here?) that the vibrator was first invented as a labor saving device for doctors. It seems that going to the doctor to be treated for ‘hysteria’ back in the 1800′s and early 1900′s was as common for women then as flu shots are now.

It seems that the doctor’s hands got so tired and cramped, from rubbing vegetable oil into women’s nether regions all day, that they tried to make a mechanical model to do the dirty work for them.


Steam Powered Vibrator

My understanding is that the steam-powered version turned out to be particularly dangerous.

Then electricity came along, and bam, the vibrator was like the fifth thing ever to become electrical.

Can’t really wrap my mind around it personally. I mean, the fact that every time something new comes out in the world of technology, it is immediately used for sex, like say the camera, the moving pictures, the internet, etc, I get that. What I can’t wrap my head around is going to my family doctor for a medically advised hand job.

I found this article in Psychology Today, “Hysteria” and the strange history of vibrators, where quotes like, “…Not surprisingly, these beliefs left an enormous number or women sexually frustrated. They complained to doctors of anxiety, sleeplessness, irritability, nervousness, erotic fantasies, feelings of heaviness in the lower abdomen, and wetness between the leg. This syndrome became known as “hysteria,” from the Greek for uterus…” are sad and kind of funny now.

imageThe article is a fun read, mainly because of the author’s sense of humor as he puts forth the dry facts, like in these sentences: “But ironically, women’s sexual pleasure was the furthest thing from the minds of the male doctors who invented vibrators almost two centuries ago. They were interested in a labor-saving device to spare their hands the fatigue they developed giving handjobs to a steady stream of 19th century ladies who suffered from “hysteria,” a vaguely defined ailment easily recognizable today as sexual frustration…”

At least I think the author has a sense of humor about the whole thing, either that or my dry sense of humor makes it funny for me. But whatever, it’s still a great read.

It also got the creative juices flowing. I wrote a quick little short about my version of what might have gone on back then. It was a fun write, but I’m not expecting any major sales on it. It is free today, Tues September 16th though, for anyone interested. And it’s in Kindle Unlimited, so if you subscribe, you can pick it up whenever.

Free on Amazon, just click the pict.

Free on Amazon, just click the pict.

Straight Women and MM Erotica

I heard somewhere that MM erotica was really popular right now. Silly me, I assumed that meant that gay men were getting their read on.

Now maybe they are, but I was surprised to hear/read that it was straight women that were devouring the man on man stuff. What? Why?

I thought women read sexy stuff to put themselves into the main female character’s shoes. Or panties. Whatever. How do you do that if there isn’t a female character to become?

Before reading it myself, the only experience I had with MM erotica was by accident. I was selling something on Craigslist, and started goofing off. I like goofing off in the missed connections tab, where people say things like, ‘To the girl with the dark ponytail in the yoga pants at Starbucks in front of me in line, I was too shy to say hi, but you got my attention,’ or something.

I clicked on one once that was more like, ‘To the smoking hot guy I saw at the local gym. I really enjoyed watching you shower, I’m glad you didn’t seem to mind when I started rubbing my cock as I watched you. Imagine my surprise when you started doing the same. The way you soaped your…’ and it got quite hot and explicit from there.

I didn’t get disgusted or click out of the post. Oh no, I read every bit of that one. At least twice. It was hot as hell. But why?

I still don’t get it. Why did I enjoy it so much?

Is it because all sex is hot?

I live somewhat out in the country. Seeing cows get mounted by bulls as you drive home from the grocery store doesn’t happen every day, but it happens often enough. I laugh, point, and say, ‘Get you some!’

I recently saw two dogs doing it near where I work, and weeks later, two cats in my neighbor’s yard. I admit it, I watched. It was oddly hot, in its own way. So maybe watching and reading about anyone or anything is just hot, whether or not they are your gender or even your species.

But then reading or watching two girls doesn’t do it for me at all. I need a guy. A girl and a guy, hot. Twelve girls and a guy, still hot. But I’m watching whomever the guy is with, however many that is. The extra girls doing each other? Nah.

I get why guys like it, but it does nothing for me. I need at least one cock in there, somewhere.

So maybe that’s it? The more cocks the merrier? Is it because MM is extra cocks, extra biceps, extra abs? Maybe.

I don’t know.

I know a lot of these posts ask the question, and then give what they think is the answer, but not this time. I still have no clue either why I liked it or why MM is so popular with straight women.

So of course, I had to experiment. I got Scarlet Cox’s Doctor, Doctor.

This one is free!   Click to see on Amazon

This one is free! Click to see on Amazon

It’s an erotic short that is the first in a five-story collection. You can get them individually, or in the bundle of five. It was hot! Not a woman to be seen, but I enjoyed the hell out of it. I loved the little twist at the end, too. No spoilers though.

Click to see it on Amazon

Click to see it on Amazon

Then I tried Mona Lottze’s Weekend With My Boss. The third one just recently came out, but I’ve only read the first one. So far. This one is less quick, down and dirty, but is more romantic, will they/ won’t they? I loved the humor and human-ness in this one. But it’s  still hot!

I still had no idea why MM was doing it for me, so I kept going. This time it was a MM Werewolf Shifter story.

Amber Ridge’s Heart Of The Alpha was completely different from the first two, but I loved it, too. The animal need and soul mate connection of a good shifter story, with some smokin’ hot sex. Alright, I seem to have a bit of a thing for shifters- I read all three of this series.

Click to see on Amazon

Click to see on Amazon

And I still don’t know why two men was so good. Is it the same reason MF is good for me, and probably what I would enjoy about FF, if the sex did anything for me- meaning the emotional connection? Or was it hot because of the sheer power of two men?

I think power is sexy as hell. Not billionaire corporate power, that does nothing for me at all. No, power power. I like watching airplanes take off and land, the sheer force and power is hot. I like flying, but it is the take-offs and landings I enjoy, not the boring middle. (Yes I’m weird, animals doing it and big powerful machines are turn ons.)

So is it the forceful need of two strong, sexy men coming together? Still no clue.

There was a link in my face book feed showing gay men reading passages from Fifty Shades of Grey. It was hilarious. My favorite comments were, “I know I’m personally scared of the vagina, a little bit…Heterosexuality is weird.” And, “It’s actually kind of gross, if you think about it…”

Click to watch. Hilarious!

Click to watch. Hilarious!

I totally understand that! What I dont understand is why straight women DON’T seem to think along the same lines when it comes to MM.

I still have no idea.

Since I seem to have a thing for shifters, I also read Amelia Faulkner’s Wolf In Geek’s Clothing. I loved this one, too. Not nearly the sex of the other MMs, but the story was a fresh, unique take on the genre.

Click to see on Amazon

Click to see on Amazon

So, basically, even after reading and enjoying quite a few out of my norm MM stories, I still have no idea why they are so popular right now with women in general.

Any ideas? Do any of you read MM? Why? What do you like about it?

Ok, enough pondering for today. And enough plugging these fabulous authors. I have my own to plug. It’s not MM, but it is free through today, Tuesday 9/2. If you like your public menage with taboo step brother relations, pick up Taboo Times Two- Amusement Park. If the taboo part doesn’t do it for you, the same story is available without the step aspect, just pick up In Public- Amusement Park.

Taboo Version Click to get it free on Amazon

Taboo Version
Click to get it free on Amazon

Not Taboo Click to get it free on Amazon

Not Taboo
Click to get it free on Amazon


The Fucking Farewell

I’ve been thinking a lot about real life conversations with men vs. erotic romance novel stuff.  I find myself having imaginary conversations with the man I’m seeing and when we talk face-to-face or on the phone the reality is it goes nothing like the way I imagine.

Books are often geared towards women, especially those written by women because we aspire to have an epic sexual romance that is better in fantasy than reality.  One where no one farts or clears their throat or does other obnoxious things that grate on a person after days, months and years of being with them.

Our meet/cute didn’t go that well.  I mean, I didn’t think it did because I felt like the expectations for both of us had to do with our individual experiences.  And like I said, no one acts the way you think they will.  I acted chatty, telling stories the way I always do and later he said I talked too much.  He told me stories too so I vehemently deny that I didn’t also listen intently to what he shared, although at the time, I did kind of think he was a combination of wounded divorcee and egomaniacal jerk.  He started calling me afterwards, stalker-like and that settled down.  Then it stopped altogether so I started it up again and our conversations became intimate and honest, and like nothing else I have ever experienced before.  Now I’m not sure where we are to be honest with you.

I hate when I start out with my giant ego and think about all the things that are wrong about the guy – wrong for me – and then I make some sort of massive 360 and start thinking the exact opposite.  I start thinking I want to marry him and have his baby, and grow old with him and hope I die first because I can’t stand the idea of living without him even though we’ve only had a couple of dates and we really don’t know enough about each other to even know what 40 years of marriage would be like.  But I live far into the future.  In a way, it’s like that episode of STNG when Jean-Luc was out cold for like 30 seconds but he lived an entire life on another planet and learned to play the reed flute.  I convince myself that the universe has intervened and now it is my turn to have a great love despite that rocky start.  And I will have my happily ever after, after all.

I get so crazy-like and I’m not that type of whack-a-doodle, honestly.  Maybe I am and I scared him off inadvertently – oh, and here I go making excuses and analyzing the whole thing as if it needs to be dissected and figured out, like a science project.

In romance novels, the man loves the woman’s quirks.  We don’t ever know his quirks because he’s a strong guy without any.  But in real life, I think there are more women for men than there are men for women.  Men can pull this – I want something casual – routine as if women are a dime a dozen and maybe we are.  We on the other hand,  fixate on the one we want.  The one with the all the attributes we write down on a scrap paper and fold into the pages of The Secret.  Oh, it doesn’t matter if there are red flags that go against what we believe.  And if you don’t understand what I’m talking about, watch an episode of Bachelor in Paradise.  How the girl is already naming their children and the guy is like, I think we should explore other relationships while we are here and not pair up.

I’m thinking the whole thing is a giant Jedi mind trick.  It’s happened before where I feel like my mind has been somehow altered.  Mind control.  Hmmm.  Then I think I am totally head over heels in love and then…crickets.

I’m like a baby who only sees the rattle and wants it but when it’s not there I feel like it was never there to begin with.  The idea of real love just tortures me to tell you the truth.  I don’t want to want it because I feel like I can’t go back there and get my heart ripped away from my chest like a character on the TV series Once Upon a Time.

I stopped writing again.  It was something I did to babysit myself in a way and I feel like that time spent was incredibly isolating and resulted in only patching my finances and not fixing them.  I need to rip the Band-Aid away.

Frankly, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if this relationship doesn’t pan out.  But I know that as of now, I don’t want to be Mia anymore.  This will be my final post here at One Handed Writers.  Thank you, Michelle, and everyone else for the opportunity to participate in this forum.  I wish you all the best in your careers.  My books will still be for sale and it will certainly be hilarious if they start selling despite my disappearance from social media.  I’ve sold nothing on Amazon since my sale ended so I will be able to easily monitor that during the transition.

As a thirteen-year-old, I used to write stories in a spiral notebook while sitting on the floor of my bedroom.  I am, always have been and always will be a creative person to my core and that requires a lot of alone time to actually do that work.  But it shouldn’t be at the expense of a real social life.

50 Zillion I Don’t Knows


I have two chapters written so far in my new story.  It’s something like fifty pages of work so it’s not nothing, but it’s definitely nothing in comparison to every other one of my one-handed colleagues’ productivity.  Writing is just very slow going this summer.  I’m not blocked – I know what this story is – I know the whole thing.  I even feel like I can see it as a movie.

The characters so far would be played by I-don’t-know, I-don’t-know and I-don’t-know.  I say it like that for obvious reasons.  I saw the trailer for The Giver and every actor seems to be a celeb.  That only works if they can transcend and sometimes they can’t, so not sure how good it will be.  When I read the book, I pictured a wizard style guy not the big Lebowski doin’ it hippie style.

Sometimes I’m watching a movie and I’m like, that’s Meryl Streep.  For example, Meryl has a thing she does to feel embarrassed where she puts her hand over her mouth then kind of pats her cheeks and chin with the back of her hand, as if she’s comforting herself.  She did it in Bridges of Madison County a lot and in something else that I just saw but can’t remember what it was – maybe it was “a dingo ate my baby” (what the hell was that movie called?).  Of course, other times she comes up with a completely different walk or laugh, or something and you forget it’s her altogether.

Dakota Johnson played a silly dork in that TV series she was in.  Pretty, but not pretty enough to be beautiful.  Horrible bangs.  She seems to be playing the same role in 50 Shades only with mouse brown hair, but she does seem to look thinner in it, at least in the trailer.

The trailer made me want to see the film but more likely alone at home on demand with my hand ready to masturbate to the bondage parts.  Sad but true.  I never read the books – I really should to see if I would somehow be turned on by the idea of it, but I really thought the writing was so bad – okay, that was mean coming from a writer without zillions of fans telling me I’m great.  I read the first two pages on the look inside thingy on Amazon and it seemed too much like a British person desperately trying to sound American and also like an older woman trying to sound like she knew anything about 20-somethings.

But then, no one cares.  Because I think the majority of people who liked those books were old women.  I have a 50-something friend who said she masturbated like she’d not done in a zillion years to parts of that book.  I don’t want to throw her under the bus but I don’t remember the last time she had a boyfriend and she’s menopausal.  She also said the sex in the book was very risqué so I’m under the impression that no one ever really gave it to her good.

My friend has not read my books, which have been called by reviewers and panners “not for the faint of heart”.  If she did, she would be aghast.  Maybe suffer a heart-attack from the risqué rather than have an orgasm.  Needless to say, I am such a direct person who would pretty much say aloud everything that I’ve written in my books to the appropriate crowds because I don’t think they are so “bad”.  Of course, I’d eliminate prudes or children, or gays who don’t want to hear anything about stuff happening to and in a vagina.  And P.S., my friend does tend to think I’m on the vulgar side of her prim and proper.

The 50 Shades movie can only be a good thingy, because I imagine there are loads of women who have clueless husbands, or rather, they have this secret desire they just can’t communicate to their boyfriend/spouse about wanting to be dominated.  This movie might be all they need to get that dialogue started.  And I’m including myself here, apparently.

Another reason I didn’t want to read 50 and didn’t like Twilight is because the main character in both thinks she is ordinary or frumpy, or ugly – one of those.  And the attractive men – not just attractive but desirable to the masses, pick THEM.  Like, why me? (said in sing-song cry baby talk) You can have anyone in the world but you want lil old me.  It’s the Cinderella fairy-tale in a way.  But Cinderella wasn’t like that at all.

Cinderella had a rapport with the prince.  She liked him and he was kind to her, and when they danced, she just knew he liked her back.  There was no – he’s so hot, why does he like me?  It was more - I can’t tell him who I really am because I’m not royal and therefore I know he will think I’m not good enough.

I battle that Cinderella feeling a lot for some reason.  It’s happening to me now even though I know that I have a lot to offer this man in my life.  It’s to do with being an artist and the value that finance types place on it.  I personally don’t like dating other artists because there is that competitive thingy where we both have egos the size of volcanoes and that requires too much soothing of egos while both secretly hoping each other will be the more successful one.  With a non-artsy guy, especially one who doesn’t get it at all, there’s no need to even get your ego into turmoil because he seriously will ground you into realizing that the drama of it is so fucking fabricated and non-sense-ical.

But on the other hand, I don’t want him to dump me because being with a Dharma-type is just too different than his version of the future.  I would rock his boat too much, you know what I mean?  It’s one of those – you don’t really fit in with the rest of the family; therefore, I must cut you loose heartbreaks.  (Hopefully not, but it definitely is in the back of my mind).  It’s happened before.

At the same time, it is nice to hear that people like your work.  When you get it from your non-art man, it’s like when Tarzan gets a pat on his head from his ape mother.

My favorite compliment of all time is when someone says I am original.  Wow, isn’t that the BEST?  It truly is.  They don’t know whether they like it or not but they can’t categorize it and it flabbergasts them.  I like that even better than actually making a living with my art, the feeding my soul bit, that is, as long as I can afford to at least eat enough to not die.

When I started writing, it was all I thought about.  I am going to make millions!  I am going to have Harry Potter caliber fame.  My books will be the new genre – bondage romance.  Needless to say, I never read erotica.  I didn’t even know books like that existed past the stories I found on  God, I was so fucking naïve.  I don’t know.  I don’t know anything anymore.  Maybe I will still acquire Harry Potter-style fame (by the time I’m fifty?).  I don’t know was a line he said about a zillion times in both the movies and the books.  What are we going to do?  I don’t know.  Who’s behind the Chamber of Secrets?  I don’t know.  What’s the next horcrux?  I don’t know.

Will I ever finish my new book?  I don’t know times infinity.

So back to my newbie- Maybe you agree with this, maybe not, but I tend to see a lot more beautiful women than attractive men in my world.  And lately, there are also so many more women who are uber-attractive even into their golden years.

Men – meh.  I mean, as far as men we watched on TV in the 80s who still look good, like John Stamos.  Well, that’s pretty rare.  By the way, did you guys know Ian Ziering is fifty?  Beverly Hills 90210 was about kids who graduated high school when I did and here he was a zillion years older playing my age.  Not a zillion, you know what I mean.  Despite his campy turn on Sharknado, he is a golden god.  A rare gem.

My story is about several beautiful women through the decades who are kidnapped by one man – It’s called Caryatids (okay, now don’t go fucking stealing my idea because I won’t finish this thingy for another year or two – or never so…carry-on).  Beautiful women in ordinary circumstances.  They are not models and actresses and they don’t all look alike.  Some are teenagers, some are much older.  Some have had kids.  But they are all women who will not have to be mousified if there is a movie.  By the time that happens, if at all, I will have no idea of who the latest gorgeous it girls are because I will probably be too old and out of the loop.

Yeah, come to think, I have no idea how people juggle several jobs and a relationship with writing a book.  I don’t know.  I don’t know times a zillion.



Mia Again


Yep, here I am again just in the nick of time – the eleventh hour.

I’m surprised to see that people are still linking up to my blog,; still checking to see if I’m going to post something because I have practically abandoned it.  I have to say marketing is such a bitch.  It is my detriment that I’m not the kind of artist who likes to connect to an audience.  The minute I hear someone’s opinion, whether praise or criticism, I’m completely out of my head and I start to question every fucking decision I make.

I finally started something new.  Trying to regurgitate the lost manuscript from last year but in a new and improved way and I have a clear picture of the whole story and all the chapters I have yet to write.  There’s something about being in this groove.  Spending hours writing like it is the easiest thing in the world, that is something I can’t really comprehend.  It doesn’t happen or it’s not supposed to happen.  I can’t will it to happen to save my life, and then I take a break and boom – I can do it.  It happens like some mystical magical other-worldly thing.

What is that?  It’s really, really weird.  And yet it feels very right.  It feels like I’m doing something important and special.  Yes, I realize that every other writer thinks the same thing.  They obviously do.  But I can’t think about them.  I’m not about the comraderie of the group AT ALL  It’s just not me.  If I was the only person on Earth and all I had were a few cats and my stories, and an internet full of porn, I’d actually be okay.  Is that sad or weird?

My new story may or may not have sex in it to tell you the truth.  I’m wondering about that.  What if I tell it without all the sex and as a crime story?  I’m leaning that way right now because it seems like the only way I can have what I want and make it something more people would want to read.

There are a couple days left to get my books at the sale prices.  Cinderella Club is only 99 cents.  I mean, I should have never done that, but I did and you can buy it plus the other two in the trilogy for $3.99 each.  Those are Kindle prices. The Createspace paperbacks are a lot more.  But we’re talking 400 plus page novels!  Putting the Madge in Danna is also only 99 cents.  It’s such a cute story, maybe not so erotic but I LOVE it and so did everyone who rated it on Goodreads (all 5-stars).  A Ghost’s Chance is also 99 cents (and a 4.96 on Goodreads).  But only until July 31st.  Then they will be back up to normal prices.

Okay, so I’m going to try to get back to writing.  I’ve been on Tumblr a lot re-blogging sexy bondage pics like cray-cray.  Check out my site here -

How to write a novel…

How to write a novel… it’s what you’ve always wanted to know, isn’t it? And now for the bargain price of $999.99, I’m going to let you in on the secret of my success…

Okay, once you’ve stopped laughing and cursing, let me actually tell you about this post. If you caught my last outing here, you’ll know that my so-called success is inversely in proportion to the amount of time I spend distracting myself on social media rather than writing. Status update: the social media’s going well. The writing? Meh!

Why? you might ask. Why, after last week’s admittance of your distraction habits, have you not now got them in check? The answer’s simple. I’ve discovered a new and exciting distraction: the infographic template. And so to celebrate, I’ve made you all a sexy little infographic called Creating the Novel!


(No, that’s right. I didn’t mention where I got the template from. Because I don’t want you all to realize how damn easy that was! But I’m not that mean either, so if you want details, just hit me in the comments. It was, in fact, like taking candy from a baby!)




Happy Birthday To Me

I am writing this on my birthday, the 21st, but when you guys read it my day will be over, on the 22nd.

The big 39. The year during which people will look at me funny, and the braver souls will ask, “And how many times have you turned 39 so far?”

Lol, I almost wish I could skip it and be 40 twice. No one thinks you’re lying when you say 40.


So, you poor guys get to read my birthday thoughts/ramblings as I turn a year older. I’m not taking the day off, after I get this post ready I planning on getting my “Shared” bundle up on Amazon.

I’m walking on my treadmill desk as I write this, not even taking the day off from that. It’s habit now, and I want to keep it up. It’s also mindless, which is nice.

The husband and I celebrated Sunday night, with a fabulous lakeside dinner at our favorite marina. Well, the night was fabulous, the food not so much. We definitely don’t go there for the food, or the prices, but it was a beautiful night sipping drinks, visiting with my baby and enjoying the breeze/water/people watching.

Wanna know something weird? I can’t wait to turn 40.

I’m not even sure why. You know those feelings you get sometimes, telling you that something you are about to do is either going to go very well or very badly? I JUST KNOW my 40′s are going to be GREAT. Like all caps great!

The last time I JUST KNEW about an age, I was waiting on 34 and 35. I met my husband at 34 and we married when I was 35. So…

Not to get all religious on you guys, but I totally believe in a higher power, and I’ve often JUST KNOWN things. I knew my kiddo would be a girl, and my sister’s would be a boy. I knew when my grandpa died before the phone call came. Stuff, ya know? So I am so psyched for my 40′s.

Other weird stuff happens, too. Like this one time in college, I came flying off a freeway exit way faster than my young self should have. There was a car. There was no way in hell I could stop without hitting it. I hit the brakes, feeling sure I was about to meet this person face to face after I joined him in his back seat.

Then this hand? wall? separated us somehow, and I felt the car come to a sudden stop where experience told me should have been in the place that car was already sitting, but no. A piece of papers worth of space was between us. It was very odd and has stayed with me forever.

Then, there was this guy I had met and was just starting to date. Our first real, getting picked up at the house, date was to be in a few days and I was getting this weird feeling about it. I woke up KNOWING I had to cancel and never see this guy again. Whatever had gone down in my dream state, I woke up in a panic. I was sick to my stomach and my whole being was screaming out, “Do Not Go!”

It wouldn’t go away. I HAD to call him and cancel. Then I saw that it was 2 am. So I said out loud, “I will call, I promise. But it is 2 am right now. Please let this feeling stop. I will call in the daylight hours and break this off, I will never see this man again, but please let me sleep/feel better. If I go to sleep tomorrow night not having done so, then you can make me feel this way again.”

The feeling went away, I slept like a baby, broke it off the next day, and have never felt like that about another person ever again. Of course, I have no idea what would have happened if I had gone out with him, but I’m fine with that.

I’ll give ya just one more. I was out drinking with a group, for my boyfriend at the time’s birthday. We had a designated, and we were all crashing at his friend’s house, so sky was the limit. I drank his ass under the table. I matched him shot for shot with jello shots. Now normally I don’t drink like that. I have my certain amount of liquor, I drink to a certain time, and am sober before I leave the bar. Responsible and shit.

But this night, the shots had ZERO effect. Nothing. I couldn’t feel them. He got so shit faced he broke his foot that night, and never felt it til morning. He spent time later at the friend’s house on the bathroom floor. We were given their kid’s room, (the kids were not there that weekend) which had two twin beds in it. We plopped him into one, and I took the other.

He was passed out cold. Some of the people we partied with that night were cops and medics, so I didn’t worry about him much, as a few of them stayed sober, and they kept an eye out.

Later, after the house settled down and got quiet, some guy let himself into our room. He was quite surprised to be confronted by a lucid woman. I KNOW the only thing that kept that from taking a bad turn was that I, who had matched my boyfriend drink for drink, was stone ass sober and awake when he came in.

So, the past is the past, and the future lies ahead, unknown. But for some KNOWN but unknown reason, I can’t wait for my 40′s.

Thanks for allowing me a birthday ramble, I’m sure my next post will be more erotica minded. If I haven’t bored you too much, any weird happenings you’d like to share? Either way, have a drink for me tonight, and always, ALWAYS go with your gut.

The Most Important Thing About Writing…

…is to get so caught up in the not-writing things that writing becomes that which gives you more work. The thing that leads to spending hours on Goodreads, on Twitter, on Facebook, on forums, desperately hoping that what you’re doing, whatever you’re doing, will lead to finding more fans, more sales. To become a little bit closer to your dream of self-sufficiency on writing alone.

Fine, I’m being glib, but I know I’m not the only author that feels this way. Between creating covers and marketing promotional pictures and movies, between updating sale vendors and reaching out to readers in a myriad of ways, our time gets dominated.

Suddenly, writing gets pushed to the back burner, and becomes the thing to do if you have the time and the inclination and the creativity to manage it. The thing that leads to more work, the thing that you’re fretting about even as you’re writing, hoping you’re not wasting your time on a book that will bomb.

That’s what happened to me. I got so wrapped up in finding fans, in getting reviews and doing all that other ‘stuff’ that comes with being an indie-author, that writing was hard and frustrating. It wasn’t the pleasure it used to be, because I was constantly wondering… will this sell? Will people enjoy it?

And the answer, in my all-or-nothing, mentally ill mind screamed back a violent “NO!”

Never mind that our fans seem quite pleased with our stories, in my mind they were never good enough. They weren’t like the books I saw on all the best seller lists, and it got to the point that if it wasn’t going to sell like hotcakes, I didn’t want to write it.

So then I stopped wanting to write.

Theodora's Descent Small

Theodora’s Descent – Coming later this summer

And then, Amazon threw down their gauntlet and suspended our publishing account, making us swear acceptance of them before they gave it back. They warned that one more violation could get our account banned, forever.

Just like that, all my dreams and hopes and desires came into view, and I realized what I had been squandering. Writing is my passion, and Amazon is more than just where our money is. It’s where we connect with fans. It’s how people who love our stories can find us, how new people who might love our stories discover us.

Amazon is a Goliath, and we won’t risk pissing it off or antagonizing it in the future, because what we want to write, what we really want to write? It’s not the erotic shorts that got us banned, though we love writing those too (and if you enjoy reading them, please become our Patron on Patreon.)

What we really love writing is scifi/fantasy/horror novels that have explicit sex. Sex written in the same amount of loving detail that most traditional sff novels describe fight scenes.

So in stepping away from it all, being forced away from pushing the boundaries of taste and acceptability, we come to a calm place where we can return to what we want. If sales slip, we’ll be okay, because even though we won’t have our bread and butter, we’ll be able to focus on fewer books, and really give them our all. From start to finish.


bd gag





I’m still thinking a lot about writing but nothing new yet in the works.  So I guess I will continue to try to market what’s already on the market.  I have two new strategies.

As I mentioned last time, I’m on Pinterest now. 

I spent the past couple weeks pinning up a storm.  At first I didn’t think you could pin sexy stuff, which made Pinterest seem like the stupidest thingy on the planet, but somehow I managed to find like-minded individuals and copied some of their pins.  Then I added my own – from pics I saved from Twitter feeds and from Google.

Then I started a Tumblr account.

I noticed a lot of the best bondage pictures came from tumblr and one of my favorite picture posters on Twitter, Jay Gremlin, had a Tumblr account.  So I jumped on that.  I only reblog.  I haven’t written anything or even commented on the pictures I reblogged.  I am merely a kind of phantom blogger.  Not interacting with anyone.  I’m following loads of people and some are following me back.  But I’m more or less reblogging pictures that inspire me – if I ever write again that is.

I also prefer to post pictures of women with bodies like mine, thin, 34B, long hair, although some boobyish types do slip through the cracks.  I cannot stand fake boobs.  They make the women look older and those tits look like balloons.  And you can see the keloid scarring underneath depending on their positions.  That’s totally gross.

I was watching this documentary on Showtime about porn stars.  This celebrity photographer wanted to photograph them as real models.  Nude, but beautiful with very lovely makeup and softly curled hair.  She chatted with them, asking how they got started in the industry.  They were between 22 and 30.  Most started at 18.

They called themselves porn stars but I would say they were simply actress in porn.  Not stars.  They all commented that they have this goal of being the best porn star out there, but they just seemed very naïve about it all.

This one woman, who seemed to be a producer of some sort, said that men prefer watching adult films with young, attractive women in them.  Women who look more like girls, who look nothing like their wives.  The porn stars have a shelf life, I guess.  No one who worked in 2005 is still in it or something like that was mentioned.  I guess nobody wants to pay to see a woman my age fuck around no matter how tight her body.

The girls talked about how they came to do this work and pretty much across the board I saw a gross naivety.  One had wanted to pose for Playboy and signed with a company that was actually a hardcore porn company – they convinced her to make movies beginning with a masturbation scene.  And she had never masturbated before!!!

Another said she did not want to perform acts on screen that she hadn’t already done in her personal life because then she would always remember it happening that way.  They spoke of getting more money for various sex acts (think anal).  All the while, they were each being photographed on a luxurious bed in a fancy hotel room looking very lovely – not looking porn glam, but innocent and girl next door sweet.

There’s this part of me that wishes I had done something like that with my life when I see that fantasy – getting paid a lot of money, more money than a women with a master’s degree gets for her college necessary job, to have sex with professional fuckers – men who know how to do it right.  But then that naïve talk put everything in perspective.  They spoke about getting tested all the time for STDs and how they do it so much more often that the regular person (or as they called us, civilians) and that makes them so much cleaner.  Lol.  Seriously.

Now I’m sure you have had an STD at least once.  Bacterial infections are pretty common.  But when that one lovely girl began to rattle off everything she’s had including herpes, and when she acted like herpes was as common as the common cold and that people can have it without ever having symptoms and even civilians have it – everyone has it – blah, blah.

No, we don’t.

I don’t envy those women.  I don’t want to be a porn star.  I don’t even want to have sex like the people in my books or the fetish that appeals to me.  I obviously would not want to be kidnapped by some scuz and forced into sex slavery.  Naturally, the fantasy is to be abducted by a beautiful, wealthy man.

The problem with the fantasy is that it really doesn’t go past the abduction part for me.  What is everyday life supposed to be and how do I sustain the fantasy and make it fun to write?  I have noticed that my Cinderella series has the following review curve – Cinderella Club gets 5 stars, Cinderella Thyme gets mostly 4 stars and Cinderella Ending gets mostly 3 stars.  This is on, although Cinderella Club gets a lot of 1 stars too, but I don’t concern myself with those.  Those readers obviously stumbled into territory genre they didn’t like.  The captive fantasy is specific and if the reader doesn’t like that, it doesn’t matter how well you write.  Their ratings rubric doesn’t exist.  They just pan the whole shebang.

This 5-4-3 though, indicates to me that people probably liked the Miller and Thomas storyline, but in the second book it was all about Thyme.  Miller and Thomas made appearances but you see them differently, through the eyes of Thyme and that perspective is very different, not to mention she is falling down a mentally unstable rabbit hole in the process.  The last book is the way I combined the two stories with an ending that satisfied me.  I’m assuming people identified with my characters in such a way that they had their own plan for them.  Maybe they did not love mine.

I was thinking that I should turn my blog into a book review blog.  That way bondage fantasy writers could send me free books and I could read them.  My problem right now is how do I know if my story idea has not already been done somehow?  A zeitgeist.  Every time I think of a way to move the story forward based on a scenario that may have some element of truth to it, like snatching a jogger in the park where I go running, I think that someone has probably already thought of it.

When I look at all of the Tumblr, Pinterest and Twitter picture porn, and there has been a hell of a lot of it lately, I think, oh, that idea is a good one.  Damn it, why didn’t I think of it first?  The actress/model/trust-fund girl snatch, which I can do pretty well.  I don’t really want to research jobs that I know nothing about so the people in my stories need to have some sort of artsy job because that is what I know.  I’d love to do a black man captor but I just can’t write black characters.  I mean African-American.  I can do Nigerian because I have some friends who are from there.  I already did that in Cinderella Club.  But the slang of black America – I don’t know it and I know I wouldn’t be able to do it justice.  I don’t know much about anything now that I mention it.  I’m not as smart as I wish I was, otherwise the sky would be the limit as far as ideas for stories go.  I have so many.

But how many readers are there willing to invest time in a capture story, regardless of the details, especially now when it is difficult to sell on Amazon?  It’s basically rape.  Non-consent.  It gets me off.  In fantasy.  I like the idea of not having any responsibility at all.  Can you imagine just being tied up all day then fucked all night?  Being someone’s fuck doll?  A beautiful pet/toy/slave?

I was thinking about that all day yesterday while cleaning.  I clean on Saturdays but I had the day off yesterday so I got a jump start on it.  Laundry, vacuum, dishes, Windex, dust, change the sheets on the bed, pay bills, pick up all the junk I was too lazy to put away during the week.  It’s a huge fucking pain in the ass.  If only the house could be this camera ready all the time.  Then if I ran into the man of my dreams, I’d invite him over like no biggie, no embarrassment.  He’d tie me up and fuck me.  I wouldn’t need to do a thing.  He would bring me to orgasm then whisk me away to his place for the rest of my life as his love slave.  Sometimes I’d be bound in rope, sometimes tape or cuffs, or silk scarves.  Sometimes naked but also in sexy lingerie, like corsets and garter belts with stockings.  I would only be allowed out to have my hair and nails done.

Okay, maybe I am getting somewhere.

Paralyzed By Too Many Choices

I’m blocked.

I’m still a big believer in doing whatever I want as an indie author, and I know none of ya’ll give a fuck, so I’ll keep my whining brief. :)

It’s not that I don’t have any ideas, it’s that I have too many. I have the third and final novel in my other name’s trilogy I need to write. I’m only an outline and two chapters in.

I have a half-written erotic version of Romeo and Juliet waiting to be finished, Romeo, Juliet & Mercutio.

I have the first in a planned series ready to go- Claimed By The Cowboys, with plans for a second and third.

But I can’t seem to write them. I sat down about a week or two ago, with a few fingers of whiskey and an intent to write part 2, and whipped out a very short, 2,600 word, 4th of July fireworks, taboo, public, menage story instead. Then I adapted it into a non-taboo version as well. It is free right now, from July 4th through July 8th:

The Taboo Version, click to get it free on Amazon.

The Taboo Version, click to get it free on Amazon.





The Non-Taboo Version. Click to get it free on Amazon.

The Non-Taboo Version. Click to get it free on Amazon.







And I haven’t been able to write anything since.

So I looked around, reading, trying to find what my muse wanted to write. I discovered milking stories. I read a couple by an author I respect and enjoy on one of my social sites. I thought, “I can do that, too!”

And I read some more, discovering shifter stories- your werewolf, werebear, and dragon shifters. Man did I have an interesting 4th of July weekend. I liked them, too!

I thought I’d prefer dragons, because, well…dragons are awesome! But my favorite was a wolf story. The animal need, the mating, the protection of the pack, the…well… the everything.

I want to write that, too!

Should I get a new new pen name or two? Milking and shifters are way different than my norm, and from each other. Or just hope that readers like to read a bit of everything and keep to just the two I already have?

I couldn’t decide. I still haven’t. And I still haven’t written anything new. So I did what anyone does when they are putting off doing what they should be doing- played some more on the internet.

Wow, did you know you can buy dragon dildos? That squirt? So, I found this new site, thanks again to my author’s forums, way to keep me productive, guys.

Check them out- And I still don’t know what to write next, but man, am I catching up on some reading.