Happy Monday morning! Or not. Why is it that trolls can't get the grasp pf humour/crackfic? Oh well. You can't win them all...

To Judge or Not

Declarations of another kind

I hurt myself again last night. I can't/won't go into details, but I'm back in bed. This is giving me plenty of time to think about what really does piss me off in the written world. I have decided that no one is perfect, and we're all flawed, so in a way, we're all our perfect selves, but there are some things you just don't do.

I have covered a few of them in the previous blog posts, but this one I haven't touched on yet. So here goes.

Lazy writers should be sacked!

Yes, you heard me correctly. What I mean is this. You don't go on several dates with someone, wine and dine them, and then halfway through your passionate foreplay announce that you're clean and covered.

Covered by what? Accidental Breakdown Insurance? Most will know you mean that your character is free from STI's (congratulations by the way) and on the pill, but not everyone knows this. And does clean mean you had a wash or shower five minutes before the intro?

Also, it's a bloody lazy way of getting to the action quicker. Did you know that women carry condoms, too? It's also quite sexy to see a man or woman slowly roll one on. Make it part of your scene, stretch it out a bit. Get the reader gagging for it. Don't slip in a commercial for something you're not selling.

And talking about STI's . . . If a character is not prepared to have sex without a condom (good thinking, by the way) why are they okay with oral sex? Don't you know that you can contract oral STI's? Ulcers, thrush, cold sores . . . the list goes on.)

Yes, I know its fiction, but there are limits.

And again, think of younger readers.

~Princess~

"Excuse me?" I spluttered, my head snapping up to look at him. The look on his face was one of pure terror, leaving me stuck between gagging and laughing. Not a comfortable position to be in.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Let's just go to lunch and forget any of this, including what I just said, ever happened, because it didn't and I'm ignoring it right now," he wasn't making much sense. I just stared at him for a second before shrugging it off. He gave me a smile, which looked more like a grimace, then picked up my hand and led me out of the break room. We said a quick goodbye to the others while I was left thinking about him saying something about marrying me. Also, he's still holding my hand!

I'm not having a girly moment about that, no, I'm having a 'what the fuck' moment.

"Edward, will you let go of my hand, please?" I asked. I tried to pull it free, but he just held on tighter.

"Not until I know you're away from her. If I left you both to it, you'd have a duel with your purses at ten paces, and I'm not risking that. You have a following already, you don't need anymore," he answered then winked at me.

Okay, I might have done a little bit of a girly moment there, but I won't ever admit it to him. I liked him winking. It was sexy.

"I don't have a following," I grumbled.

"Your web page has been up just under a week, and you already have more traffic there than the rest of the site put together. You've had requests to launch a Facebook page, and I think this is just the start." He threw me another wink before leading me into the little café across from the office.

I think he knows I like his winks. Damn man.

We sat and ate our food but didn't talk much. His eyes stayed focused on his building until his mother got into her chauffeur-driven car and left. After that, I couldn't shut him up. He talked about what posts I had coming up, how to reach a wider audience, and even tried to convince me to sort out a Facebook page.

The thing is, did I really want to do all this? I was happy to rant, bitch, and moan on a little website page, but going wider? I didn't want that, I don't think. I just want to hide in my little corner of the world and sulk about how bad books are getting to be.

"No, not at all. I'm not going to do the whole nine-yard thing. I'm going to stick to the website, and that's it." I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. I might have even pouted for dramatic effect. Either way, he still laughed at me.

"Princess, I know it's just the beginning, but you've stumbled on a great idea, and people want to see more. More of the content and more of you," he said in a soft voice.

I was one step away from kicking him under the table. Or kissing him. "Can I at least think about it? I'm not comfortable being so 'out there' with myself."

.

Bossman agreed, giving me one week to come up with a good enough reason not to do what he wanted me to. Sadly, the only reason I could come up with was because he wanted me to. I knew it would annoy him if I didn't.

While I tried to work on my escape route, I looked over the list of posts he'd agreed for me to cover. I also asked Mom and Dad their opinions. Dad didn't give two hoots over book quality so long as the story got Mom hot and horny. I'd had to put the phone down on him as soon as he said that. It was bad enough asking Mom about her sexual 'turn-ons' when she was reading, but Dad talking about it? Hell. No.

Mom's view was that sometimes a woman just wanted the perfect man, be he a bad boy or a goody two-shoes. Either way, she feels if the storyline is what the readers want, then they will read it—regardless of how badly written it is.

Her opinion got me thinking about how we, as readers, choose a story in the first place. Is it really down to the summary or blurb, or is it something else altogether? I ended up surfing a few well-known book websites scanning their titles. I'd already worked out that as long as a half-naked couple was thrown on the cover, it had a high chance of selling. But I wanted to know what else was making the books move.

Hours later, and one too many coffees, I think I have the answer. It had been staring me right in the face the whole time, but I hadn't gotten it, until now.

Porn without plot.

Okay, so some of the stories had a small amount of plotline, but other than that they've been 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am,' and that is it.

Is this what readers want today? As long as the female is beautiful, has big boobs and a cute ass, and the male lead is strong and brooding, ready to come and rescue her so that they can then go at it for God knows how many chapters . . .

This is all okay?

From my hours of research, at least I managed to pull a huge chunk of information to show Bossman on Monday morning. I'm ready to step it up a gear.

"Do you think that you've got enough here, or do you need to put some more into it?" Bossman asked once he'd read through another blog post.

It's Monday, the staff meeting is over, and I have nothing else to do but piss my boss off. My mood is shit, thanks to Mac mucking up my weekend plans, and I need someone to take it out on.

It'd been my intent to decorate over the weekend, but Mac spent half the time head-butting the backdoor to get out to my neighbor's dog who was still in heat, instead. I'd had to find an ingenious way of keeping him indoors and ended up going to the hardware store to buy a length of rope. One hell of a long leash, it gave him just enough to get outside for a pee when needed but kept him on my property. Between his whining and moping, and me tripping over the damn rope, it hadn't been a good weekend.

"Yeah, I think it's enough. I have some pictures to add, too. Don't worry, none of them are rude. I promise." I gave him an over the top grin and passed over a brown bag. Yes, I'd made him lunch. He'd been trying to be nice to me, so it was the least I could do.

God, I hate being so grown up.

"What have you done to it?" he asked, eyeing the food carefully.

"Nothing, but if you want, I could slip in some arsenic."

"Quit being so bitchy, Princess, it doesn't suit you." He tried to sound stern, but it came out sounding a little needy and whiny.

"Speaking of bitchy, did I tell you that your Mom left you a message to call her this morning? I had to intercept the call from Jessica, who was trying to sign Mother up to her new venture. I have no idea what it was about, but the moment Jessica mentioned full-body seaweed, and a hemp seed and mud wrap, I cut in," I said watching with glee when his eyes flickered to the phone then back to me.

"Did you two argue?"

"No, I was the perfect receptionist . . . despite what she might tell you."

"Well, thanks. How about we finish lunch and then get onto these pictures that you want to add? After that, we need to set you up with a company page on Facebook."

I cringed. In the end, I'd caved and agreed to have a page, but on the condition that I can post whatever I like. His counter-condition was that I have to put up a disclaimer at the end stating that it's my opinion and not the opinion of the company.

I'm fine with that.

.

"Do you think he's single?" Jessica asked one not so sunny day. I mean, the sun was trying to shine, but it looked half-assed. Pretty much like my mood.

"Who?" I was trying really hard to concentrate on the layout of my next post, but Jessica decided to plop down on my desk.

"Edward. You seem to be friendly-ish with him, so I was wondering if you knew whether he was single or not,"

I so wanted to laugh.

"Well, I can't tell you his secrets, but do you know many men, who are best friends with girls, and they're not dating?" I asked.

Jessica looked a little lost. I sighed.

"I think he's gorgeous, Jessica, but he doesn't think I'm gorgeous. Maybe I don't have the right…bits?" I hinted.

"Ohhhh!" She finally got it. Not that Edward was gay in any way. I'd seen him look at my boobs a number of times. I just didn't want Jessica to get her claws into him.

.

"No, Jessica, I don't really like shopping," I heard Edward's voice come from the staff room.

I couldn't hear her side of their conversation, but his voice I could clearly hear.

"Why would I care if all gay men like shopping?"

Ah, shit! I quickly grabbed my bag and made a run for it.

"Who the fuck told you I was GAY?" He yelled just as I got to the main door.

"ISABELLA!"

Bollocks.

"Yes, Bossman?" I squeaked out.

"Run," he growled.

Don't need telling twice.

I have LOVED your reactions to Esme. You'll see more of her in the future, which I'm sure you'll love hehehe.

Tomorrow's teaser:

"Anyone ever tell you that you are a prick?" I grouched back, trying to hold in how much pain I was in.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Daily since you came into my life, Princess," he whispered against my neck sending shivers over my skin.