Margaret L Carter wrote a scholarly blog a few days ago about the use of shocking language in literature. Margaret's bottom line, as I understood it, was that for her, the use of certain carnal words is less than a turn-on.
I'll confess, I'm not in Margaret's camp. At least, not in print.
Words are my tools and my arsenal. To extend the war-like imagery begun with "the pen is mightier than the sword", I'm not going to sign on to a literary nuclear non-proliferation treaty. I like to have a dirty bomb or two at my disposal.
Almost any word, used with skill and precision, can accomplish the author's purpose. I've read uses of the f-word where I could not imagine a more effective or arousing word for the context.
Almost any word for male genitalia is fair game as far as I am concerned. Apart from "body". That one is too ridiculous. The only exception would be if I were writing a romance about a species of shark (or is it a Hackfish?) that dwells in the deepest parts of the oceean, and the tiny male attaches himself to a passing female and becomes a trailing part of her body.
I don't use g**h or c**t or sl** . Mostly, I keep female genitalia off the table. (By the way, for those who don't know me, I mix metaphors deliberately.)
Come to think of it (groan) the F- word is quite special, isn't it? The acronym WTF is widely texted (is that a word?). So far, I've never seen WTC.
In Insufficient Mating Material I used the F- word in several ways. The hero said it a lot, both when he was swearing, and because he was furious at being forced into a royal shotgun wedding, and then rejected by the ungrateful bride.
My favorite scene involving this word was when the hero's mealy mouthed, oh-so-proper grandmother used it. She was using Tarot cards to tell the fortune of, and incidentally to interrogate, a particularly heinous villain.
The Tower turned up. It can be a sinister card, suggesting that the questor is in deep trouble. Having already gloated about crimes he'd gotten away with, the villain asked what it meant. The Empress Helispeta replied, "You are f***d!"
It was immensely satisfying to write that.
Insufficient Mating Material is, I think, the only book I've written that qualified for a review by JERR. Like the publisher Margaret mentioned, a book only qualifies for a review by JERR if it contains graphic four letter words.
For some reason, I wanted Forced Mate reviewed by JERR. I wanted Forced Mate reviewed by everyone, regardless of how appropriate it was. I remember objecting to their criteria because even the Muppets use a four letter word for female genitalia. (Mrs Thistletwat).
Moving on....
Knight's Fork has no graphic language in intimate settings. In fact, there's very little graphic action in intimate settings, either. On choice occasions, the villains do use the f- word both as an expletive and as a verb, but only in conversations with other males.
I own several How To books, including a Scoundrel's Dictionary, a dictionary of slang, and a book titled The F-word. It's interesting how and why people insult and annoy each other.
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Showing posts with label insufficient Mating material. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insufficient Mating material. Show all posts
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The "gods of Tigron" trilogy (aka The Mating Books)
Cathy Clamp was one of the speakers on my Research workshop panel at the last RT. Her handout, and those of Jade Lee, Sandy Blair, Judith Laik, and my own can be found in the Useful Stuff area of my website
For me, the most memorable story Cathy told was of how she always takes every opportunity to see unusual things, and makes the effort to talk to strangers. So, last weekend, when I had the chance to go into a cockpit with the pilots of a plane, and to talk to them about how and where ground radar interrogates air traffic, I did.
Much to the consternation (I am sure) of the other passengers, I was in with the pilots for a long time. I learned about air ways and sea lanes, the trade winds and the jet stream, and solar winds!
There's nothing like talking with pilots (or any experts) about the right way to do this and that, in order to extrapolate how one might to the "wrong" thing, or get around the system.... which of course my aliens have to do.
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
(By the way, I take no responsibility for the "associated" links that youtube offers you once you have viewed the Mating Net video!)
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Romances With Aliens
Romances With Aliens...
Apparently, it was last Saturday --a week ago-- that the allegedly alien lights were seen in the sky over Stratford-Upon-Avon (but I did not see it on the news until Thursday).
Last Monday, the distributor from the UK sent me an email to tell me that Insufficient Mating Material is now in stock in the UK, in case I wanted to promote it a bit. I've cried Wolf! in good faith so many times to my friends in the UK, that it's a bit of a problem being believed, not to mention my own embarrassment!
Anyway, when I saw the TV report and heard the description of the lights, I had a "Close Encounters" moment.
"How can I make something of a triangle?" I thought. "As a signal!"
In my books --and probably every other alien romance or action adventure-- sign language is used, because not all species can speak, and because we're used to soldiers and swat teams making signals to one another.
"And, it has to be something to do with Romance or Sex."
Do you remember the childish designs we made using W, X, Y, Brackets?
So then, I put out a specious press release (sort of), claiming responsibility for something that had nothing whatsoever to do with me.
"Insufficient Mating Material arrived in the UK to widespread awe and speculation... and much confusion.
Alien Star Forces commanders assumed that Earthlings would understand that a display of a triangle formation was a signal of their peaceful interest in human pubic regions."
I know there were two other moving lights. I had an explanation for those, too. Now, I'm writing an interest in pubic triangles into the almost-finished next book.
What other news events are favorite PR hooks for alien romance publicity?
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Apparently, it was last Saturday --a week ago-- that the allegedly alien lights were seen in the sky over Stratford-Upon-Avon (but I did not see it on the news until Thursday).
Last Monday, the distributor from the UK sent me an email to tell me that Insufficient Mating Material is now in stock in the UK, in case I wanted to promote it a bit. I've cried Wolf! in good faith so many times to my friends in the UK, that it's a bit of a problem being believed, not to mention my own embarrassment!
Anyway, when I saw the TV report and heard the description of the lights, I had a "Close Encounters" moment.
"How can I make something of a triangle?" I thought. "As a signal!"
In my books --and probably every other alien romance or action adventure-- sign language is used, because not all species can speak, and because we're used to soldiers and swat teams making signals to one another.
"And, it has to be something to do with Romance or Sex."
Do you remember the childish designs we made using W, X, Y, Brackets?
So then, I put out a specious press release (sort of), claiming responsibility for something that had nothing whatsoever to do with me.
"Insufficient Mating Material arrived in the UK to widespread awe and speculation... and much confusion.
Alien Star Forces commanders assumed that Earthlings would understand that a display of a triangle formation was a signal of their peaceful interest in human pubic regions."
I know there were two other moving lights. I had an explanation for those, too. Now, I'm writing an interest in pubic triangles into the almost-finished next book.
What other news events are favorite PR hooks for alien romance publicity?
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Saturday, July 21, 2007
In Form
I'm not here to talk about pecs, abs, and hard bodies. I'm here in celebration of pen-pushers.
There's nothing like filling out forms to clarify the mind and build the character. I don't mean your tax returns, or those of your alien hunk, though that is an idea if I ever decide to write a high finance romance. This week --in the persona of my next alien romance hero, 'Rhett-- I'm filling out certain Ministry of Justice forms in the interests of research.
'Rhett is the "Dirty Harry" of his rogue Royal family. He's Dirty Harry with a sword... and a spade, it would seem. He knows where the bodies are buried, and he is the family trouble stabber. I'd say "trouble shooter" but he prefers to use a long, sharp weapon. Not that he fires blanks. He's as "alpha" as his cousins and half brothers.
He's the Great Djinn who likes to do the right thing.... Of course, it is debatable whether the "camisole plot" to disgrace and destroy Tarrant-Arragon (in FORCED MATE) was entirely ethical, but dirty tricks are an essential part of interstellar diplomacy.
'Rhett crossed swords, albeit verbally, with Tarrant-Arragon again in INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL. Now, he's being sent on a dangerous quest because everyone wants him out of the way. He has to extract something from Earth, and he'd prefer to do it legally.
Not salt. Not a Ring. Not a moon rock. Could be a crashed spaceship? (Or not.)
So, I have obtained lawful "extraction" forms from One Of Her Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State in the Ministry Of Justice, and 'Rhett is endeavouring to fill them out truthfully.
Full name of applicant.
Already this is not easy. If one writes really small, one can fit seven Royal and Djinn names into the box, but should one? Selecting just three would be less startling, but if only three, which middle name should one choose?
Title.
Which one? Prince? That's bogus! Great Djinn and lesser god? True, but unwise to tell humans so. Leviathan, Saurian Knight? That would arouse suspicion. No doubt, Mr would be the stealthy choice. Sometimes an alien is obliged to lie for the protection of the person reading the form.
Full address.
One does not have a Post Code or a Zip code aboard a Gravity Class, interstellar war-star. Nor a telephone number. Perhaps 'Rhett is going to have to deliver his forms in person, wave a gentle hand like Obi-Wan Kenobi and murmur "This is plausible." However, even this humble, simple, everyday question forces an alien to decide where he will reside (officially) for the three months that it takes the British civil servants and Principal Secretaries Of State to process "extraction" paperwork.
Time to contact a builder and discover whether it is possible that the house in Cambridge that Tarrant-Arragon burned to the ground on the night of March 31st 1994 (upon the occasion of abducting Djinni-vera) could have been rebuilt. Alternatively, one would need an hotel, remembering that a three-month stay will mean that one --and one's entourage of aliens-- is exposed to the business of May Ball time.
Thereafter, the questionnaire becomes increasingly intrusive and baffling, particularly for an honest alien hunk. With a family tree as complicated as theirs. Should one list one's father's second wife's offspring as brothers, half-brothers, step-brothers, or cousins?
Would a human arrest warrant be issued for one's father, because he broke modern, Anglo-American taboos which did not apply to him, being an alien god-Prince?
And then, one comes to the requirements for the exportation of that which is to be extracted. I have to chortle as I imagine how officialdom might react if, for instance, one submitted a letter from Captain James T Kirk, attesting that the USS Enterprise had been engaged to transport the (mystery treasure) to (wherever).
As one wades through forms and questionnaires, an author --who thought she knew everything about her hero-- discovers details that might need to be filled in. I never thought I'd recommend form-filling as a profitable way to spend ones precious writing time. But I DO!
By the way, I googled "form filling". I recommend you do, too.
http://ha.ckers.org/blog/20060821/stealing-user-information-via-automatic-form-filling/
http://www.freedownloadscenter.com
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Insufficient Mating Material is in the UK contest
Facebook.com
Shelfari.com
BookGroupOnline.com
LinkedIn.com
INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL is now in stock in the UK
There's nothing like filling out forms to clarify the mind and build the character. I don't mean your tax returns, or those of your alien hunk, though that is an idea if I ever decide to write a high finance romance. This week --in the persona of my next alien romance hero, 'Rhett-- I'm filling out certain Ministry of Justice forms in the interests of research.
'Rhett is the "Dirty Harry" of his rogue Royal family. He's Dirty Harry with a sword... and a spade, it would seem. He knows where the bodies are buried, and he is the family trouble stabber. I'd say "trouble shooter" but he prefers to use a long, sharp weapon. Not that he fires blanks. He's as "alpha" as his cousins and half brothers.
He's the Great Djinn who likes to do the right thing.... Of course, it is debatable whether the "camisole plot" to disgrace and destroy Tarrant-Arragon (in FORCED MATE) was entirely ethical, but dirty tricks are an essential part of interstellar diplomacy.
'Rhett crossed swords, albeit verbally, with Tarrant-Arragon again in INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL. Now, he's being sent on a dangerous quest because everyone wants him out of the way. He has to extract something from Earth, and he'd prefer to do it legally.
Not salt. Not a Ring. Not a moon rock. Could be a crashed spaceship? (Or not.)
So, I have obtained lawful "extraction" forms from One Of Her Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State in the Ministry Of Justice, and 'Rhett is endeavouring to fill them out truthfully.
Full name of applicant.
Already this is not easy. If one writes really small, one can fit seven Royal and Djinn names into the box, but should one? Selecting just three would be less startling, but if only three, which middle name should one choose?
Title.
Which one? Prince? That's bogus! Great Djinn and lesser god? True, but unwise to tell humans so. Leviathan, Saurian Knight? That would arouse suspicion. No doubt, Mr would be the stealthy choice. Sometimes an alien is obliged to lie for the protection of the person reading the form.
Full address.
One does not have a Post Code or a Zip code aboard a Gravity Class, interstellar war-star. Nor a telephone number. Perhaps 'Rhett is going to have to deliver his forms in person, wave a gentle hand like Obi-Wan Kenobi and murmur "This is plausible." However, even this humble, simple, everyday question forces an alien to decide where he will reside (officially) for the three months that it takes the British civil servants and Principal Secretaries Of State to process "extraction" paperwork.
Time to contact a builder and discover whether it is possible that the house in Cambridge that Tarrant-Arragon burned to the ground on the night of March 31st 1994 (upon the occasion of abducting Djinni-vera) could have been rebuilt. Alternatively, one would need an hotel, remembering that a three-month stay will mean that one --and one's entourage of aliens-- is exposed to the business of May Ball time.
Thereafter, the questionnaire becomes increasingly intrusive and baffling, particularly for an honest alien hunk. With a family tree as complicated as theirs. Should one list one's father's second wife's offspring as brothers, half-brothers, step-brothers, or cousins?
Would a human arrest warrant be issued for one's father, because he broke modern, Anglo-American taboos which did not apply to him, being an alien god-Prince?
And then, one comes to the requirements for the exportation of that which is to be extracted. I have to chortle as I imagine how officialdom might react if, for instance, one submitted a letter from Captain James T Kirk, attesting that the USS Enterprise had been engaged to transport the (mystery treasure) to (wherever).
As one wades through forms and questionnaires, an author --who thought she knew everything about her hero-- discovers details that might need to be filled in. I never thought I'd recommend form-filling as a profitable way to spend ones precious writing time. But I DO!
By the way, I googled "form filling". I recommend you do, too.
http://ha.ckers.org/blog/20060821/stealing-user-information-via-automatic-form-filling/
http://www.freedownloadscenter.com
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Insufficient Mating Material is in the UK contest
Facebook.com
Shelfari.com
BookGroupOnline.com
LinkedIn.com
INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL is now in stock in the UK
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Different Strokes -- Headless sex
We're used to having one of everything, (unless we have two... as in kidneys, lungs, arms, legs, ears, eyes).
Margaret and I like to watch some of the same things on TV. I will definitely stop writing my alien romances to watch "The Most Extreme" or "Fooled By Nature" on Animal Planet.
It's not that I'm particularly twisted (or so I fondly imagine), but I am interested in watching male animals getting their heads chewed while they do their reproductive duty. I understand that male praying mantises have a second heart --or is it a second brain?-- down there, which is what enables them to pump more vigorously once the head is gone.
I wonder whether they fornicate faster because the blood flow is diverted to the second brain or second heart once the big head no longer needs a supply. I like to know the ins and outs, and the hows and whys! Like, dying trees often produce a vast and vigorous quantity of flowers and seeds.
I've heard that Brachiosaurs (long necked dinosaur types) may have had an extra heart to pump blood along that long neck. Do giraffes? Or do giraffes just have a really efficient sequence of valves... like canal locks?
When I watch elephants and other large quadrupeds with extremely stiff spines and highly mobile (and apparently well-controlled) reproductive equipment go about the business of procreation, I cannot help thinking of some of the building supply equipment I see on the road... the sort that has a driver in the cab at the front end, but a little cab with a crane and control center at the back end to do the delicate work of lifting and maneuvering.
Have you ever watched an elephantine erection in action? Remarkable!
In National Geographic for Kids, there's a delightful article about animals being nice to one another. In one story, a forest elephant gets the sensitive tip of its trunk damaged in a hunter's trap. So, it leaves the forest and goes out onto the savannah (usually forest elephants stay in the forest, and savannah elephants stay on the savannah, and as a result of not socializing their ears have evolved to look different... apparently). The forest elephant walks up to a surprised savannah elephant and pushes the tip of its hurt trunk into the savannah elephant's mouth.
At once, the savannah elephant tastes the blood, understands his fellow's plight (they must both be young male elephants, I assume, or they would not be alone) and uses his own trunk to pull up a small tree and thrust it into his new friend's mouth.
Aaaahhhh!
There's not a lot of use for me in thinking further about sensitive, prehensile trunk tips and other applications because I write romance with alien elements.
My aliens do have secondary brains and hearts... one has to have a rationale why priapism isn't a problem during the
By the way... if anyone clicked the "watch elephants" link in this blog, and is now furious with me for sending them to the INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL book trailer (which is also on my newly rationalized website), try looking to the right in the sidebar of what YouTube catalogues as similar subject matter.
On an administrative note, Cindy Holby aka Colby Hodge is on assignment. I shall blog on her Saturdays until September... apart from August 4th, when Marjorie M Liu will blog.
Barbara Karmazin will be guest blogging on Sundays, and will delight us with at least one lecture about alien sex. We can look forward to a hot summer! The hero in Barbara's The Huntress is extraordinarily well endowed. He has two!!
best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Margaret and I like to watch some of the same things on TV. I will definitely stop writing my alien romances to watch "The Most Extreme" or "Fooled By Nature" on Animal Planet.
It's not that I'm particularly twisted (or so I fondly imagine), but I am interested in watching male animals getting their heads chewed while they do their reproductive duty. I understand that male praying mantises have a second heart --or is it a second brain?-- down there, which is what enables them to pump more vigorously once the head is gone.
I wonder whether they fornicate faster because the blood flow is diverted to the second brain or second heart once the big head no longer needs a supply. I like to know the ins and outs, and the hows and whys! Like, dying trees often produce a vast and vigorous quantity of flowers and seeds.
I've heard that Brachiosaurs (long necked dinosaur types) may have had an extra heart to pump blood along that long neck. Do giraffes? Or do giraffes just have a really efficient sequence of valves... like canal locks?
When I watch elephants and other large quadrupeds with extremely stiff spines and highly mobile (and apparently well-controlled) reproductive equipment go about the business of procreation, I cannot help thinking of some of the building supply equipment I see on the road... the sort that has a driver in the cab at the front end, but a little cab with a crane and control center at the back end to do the delicate work of lifting and maneuvering.
Have you ever watched an elephantine erection in action? Remarkable!
In National Geographic for Kids, there's a delightful article about animals being nice to one another. In one story, a forest elephant gets the sensitive tip of its trunk damaged in a hunter's trap. So, it leaves the forest and goes out onto the savannah (usually forest elephants stay in the forest, and savannah elephants stay on the savannah, and as a result of not socializing their ears have evolved to look different... apparently). The forest elephant walks up to a surprised savannah elephant and pushes the tip of its hurt trunk into the savannah elephant's mouth.
At once, the savannah elephant tastes the blood, understands his fellow's plight (they must both be young male elephants, I assume, or they would not be alone) and uses his own trunk to pull up a small tree and thrust it into his new friend's mouth.
Aaaahhhh!
There's not a lot of use for me in thinking further about sensitive, prehensile trunk tips and other applications because I write romance with alien elements.
My aliens do have secondary brains and hearts... one has to have a rationale why priapism isn't a problem during the
rut rage, for the few readers who wonder about such things. One of these days I really must ask my friend Jade Lee (the author) how practitioners of 17-hour Tantric sex don't damage themselves. In my next book, I also touch on the problems of having more brain than humans.
By the way... if anyone clicked the "watch elephants" link in this blog, and is now furious with me for sending them to the INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL book trailer (which is also on my newly rationalized website), try looking to the right in the sidebar of what YouTube catalogues as similar subject matter.
On an administrative note, Cindy Holby aka Colby Hodge is on assignment. I shall blog on her Saturdays until September... apart from August 4th, when Marjorie M Liu will blog.
Barbara Karmazin will be guest blogging on Sundays, and will delight us with at least one lecture about alien sex. We can look forward to a hot summer! The hero in Barbara's The Huntress is extraordinarily well endowed. He has two!!
best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Grievous: A human for all seasons
How many favorite recurring characters do you have? Or follow?
In a series, each sequel may have a different hero and heroine but quite often there is a secondary character who continues to play an important secondary role. Maybe she is a pet cat or dog that gets passed around, or a meddlesome matchmaker, or an authority figure --the mysterious older brother, the King of England, a secret society-- or maybe it is a magical artifact, or a robot.
I have the very human Grievous, who gets loaned out to a greater or lesser extent.
In FORCED MATE (my first book), the alien god-Prince Tarrant-Arragon made Grievous a job offer that he couldn't refuse.
He retains his job title of "Earthways Advisor" to god-Prince Tarrant-Arragon in INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL but also acts as congenial jailer.
In my work-in-progress, KNIGHT'S FORK, Grievous is sent along on a quest, and is the first to blurt out a wisecrack when he thinks a plot element is suspect, or when an alien's behavior is out of order.
I drafted the following scene snippet over a year ago when I started thinking about the three books that will follow INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL. At the time, I wasn't sure which book it would work best in (if at all). In my opinion, the trouble with combining a "Quest" story with a Romance is that quests require either a lot of characters (and more than one villain) or a lot of travel.
----
“Are those Earthgirls? They’re adorable, perfectly formed miniatures. Can I have one?”
Rhett translated Prince Thor-Quentin's remark for Grievous's enjoyment. A nod and hand wave from the human informed him that the courtesy was unnecessary.
“And by have you mean…?” he questioned Prince Thor-quentin diplomatically.
“To take home with me.”
“You don’t think that would be cruel?”
“What’s cruel?”
Rhett and Grievous exchanged glances.
“I want to talk to one of them.”
“Any one in particular?” Rhett drawled sarcastically.
Missing the point, Thor-Quentin studied the group of young women, like a tweenager on the wrong side of a pet shop window. “That one. No. All of them.”
“You do realize that Earthgirls don't speak Tigron, nor do they speak High Court?"
“They don’t?”
“No.”
“Can’t we implant something in one of them?”
“Your dick, I dare say,” Grievous growled, under his breath, in English. “Arrogant little snot, isn’t he, Sir?”
“It is you who wishes to converse, Thor-Quentin. Perhaps we should put something in your ear.”
“A flea, I should say, Sir.” Grievous muttered.
“If I want one, I have to learn her barbarian language?” Thor-Quentin said with incredulity. He was catching on. “How?”
“Ask Grievous. Nicely.” Rhett said, bored of the conversation.
----
Until next time....
Rowena Cherry
In a series, each sequel may have a different hero and heroine but quite often there is a secondary character who continues to play an important secondary role. Maybe she is a pet cat or dog that gets passed around, or a meddlesome matchmaker, or an authority figure --the mysterious older brother, the King of England, a secret society-- or maybe it is a magical artifact, or a robot.
I have the very human Grievous, who gets loaned out to a greater or lesser extent.
In FORCED MATE (my first book), the alien god-Prince Tarrant-Arragon made Grievous a job offer that he couldn't refuse.
He retains his job title of "Earthways Advisor" to god-Prince Tarrant-Arragon in INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL but also acts as congenial jailer.
In my work-in-progress, KNIGHT'S FORK, Grievous is sent along on a quest, and is the first to blurt out a wisecrack when he thinks a plot element is suspect, or when an alien's behavior is out of order.
I drafted the following scene snippet over a year ago when I started thinking about the three books that will follow INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL. At the time, I wasn't sure which book it would work best in (if at all). In my opinion, the trouble with combining a "Quest" story with a Romance is that quests require either a lot of characters (and more than one villain) or a lot of travel.
----
“Are those Earthgirls? They’re adorable, perfectly formed miniatures. Can I have one?”
Rhett translated Prince Thor-Quentin's remark for Grievous's enjoyment. A nod and hand wave from the human informed him that the courtesy was unnecessary.
“And by have you mean…?” he questioned Prince Thor-quentin diplomatically.
“To take home with me.”
“You don’t think that would be cruel?”
“What’s cruel?”
Rhett and Grievous exchanged glances.
“I want to talk to one of them.”
“Any one in particular?” Rhett drawled sarcastically.
Missing the point, Thor-Quentin studied the group of young women, like a tweenager on the wrong side of a pet shop window. “That one. No. All of them.”
“You do realize that Earthgirls don't speak Tigron, nor do they speak High Court?"
“They don’t?”
“No.”
“Can’t we implant something in one of them?”
“Your dick, I dare say,” Grievous growled, under his breath, in English. “Arrogant little snot, isn’t he, Sir?”
“It is you who wishes to converse, Thor-Quentin. Perhaps we should put something in your ear.”
“A flea, I should say, Sir.” Grievous muttered.
“If I want one, I have to learn her barbarian language?” Thor-Quentin said with incredulity. He was catching on. “How?”
“Ask Grievous. Nicely.” Rhett said, bored of the conversation.
----
Until next time....
Rowena Cherry
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Tall, dark, and continent
Am I going to talk about "continents"? Or "continence" as a heroic quality in an alien romance? Continence! Sexual continence, as opposed to sexual incontinence. We all think only of bladder control, because pharmaceutical company advertisements bombard us with solutions --or pills-- for that problem. As far as I know, there is no product to change the habits of the sexually incontinent. Possibly "continent" in the sense of sexual restraint has disappeared from the modern lexicon. I'll have to look!
Why do so many of us swoon over Spock, and scorn Kirk?
Kirk was supposed to be the hero. He was attractive in a short, brown-haired, pudgy/muscular sort of way. He had pecs and his tight top showed them. He scored with a different girl every week. He was impulsive, occasionally outspoken (rude), and he had tantrums. And, he got himself into trouble. He was like the sexually experienced, promiscuous, "rake" type hero that is so popular in romantic fiction.
Mr. Spock was more the traditional Regency romance hero.
He did not sleep around. He was almost invariably polite. He was formal.
I cannot recall him swearing. I cannot imagine him using any of the short, sexually colloquial terms that are a pre-requisite a book to qualify as "erotic romance". His wit was dry, and you had to pay attention to "get" it. Often he expressed devastating criticism just by raising one eyebrow. Jim's ways bewildered him. He was tall, dark, good looking, clean, well groomed. He was in control.
And he did that neat thing with his fingers. (But that's another story entirely.)
Mr. Spock --as a character, I don't mean I have the hots for Leonard Nimoy, bless him-- is the sort of hero that I'd like to write (and have my own happy ever after with!)
I see Rhett as potentially Spock-like.
(Rhett is in Forced Mate, also in Insufficient Mating Material. Get a glimpse of him in the "Insult and Injury" excerpt. Now he's getting his own story.)
The great dilemma is, would alien romance readers today want to buy --in effect-- a traditional Regency romance in outer space? Was the Star Trek movie where Mr. Spock got married the omega and alpha of the genre, or is there room on bookshelves for more sexually continent heroes?
(Games of Command is in my TBR stack.)
Rowena Cherry
alien romance
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Worldbuilding in the grocery aisles
Hybrids aren't just cars that run on more than one fuel source.
There are hybrid animals, and hybrid plants which occur either naturally or with the assistance of mankind, also hybrids in Greek and Roman mythology. Some hybrids are sterile, and some are not. Some hybrids are called after a combination of the father's name and the mother's (father's name first). The mythological creatures do not appear to follow this convention... and in fact, now I understand the convention, my mind boggles over the Manticore (man-lion-scorpion).
wikipedia.org/wiki/Hybrid
The etymology is delightful. According to wikipedia, hybrid comes from the ancient Greek for "son of outrageous conduct."
I could have called my Tigron world's black sabre-toothed tigers ... pangers, or tigthers, but I think that would have complicated matters.
This week, I'm more interested in plant hybrids. For world-building in a hurry --not that I recommend taking a short cut, but sometimes one has to-- a few hours in the grocery aisles can be quite inspiring.
There are some astonishing hybrids available, as well as exotic fruits and vegetables that might or might not have been hybridized. I look at the Ugly Fruit, and I wonder whether it evolved to be visually appealing to anything (assuming that its fruit is "designed" to be dispersed with the assistance of creatures that eat the fleshy parts and eject the pits).
There's something spiny and orange that looks like a cross between a sea urchin and a sea slug, and I'm fascinated by those waxy green globes that come inside a pale green papery looking flower. If you were to change their colors, rename them, and describe them carefully as if you'd never seen them before, you'd hardly need to dream up your own fruits and vegetables for your alien romance's world. And, then there are the roots. You have to be careful what you do with your root vegetables, in my opinion.
How did we ever start to eat root veg? Did we observe a primate and copy them? Did our earliest ancestors' curious gaze fall upon something intriguingly orange, or pleasantly white, pushing up through loose soil? I suppose we do have an instinct (as children) to pull things out of the ground and bite them as an experiment. I'm told that I ate a worm once when I was a toddler! Would your aliens have similar instincts?
Your human heroine has to eat in outer space, so not all her food can be unrecognizable (or she'd have to have major allergy testing) or her gut would not be adapted to handle it. We're accustomed to stories about our domestic pets eating human delicacies which are not natural for them... which their guts are not adapted to handle. I've been thinking about what natural carnivores can and cannot eat, because I want my tigers to play a larger role in my next story.
In fact, having spent several hours reading the ingredients on dry pet food for research purposes, I do have to wonder under what circumstances a dog in the wild would eat corn on the cob. Or rice!
There are some schools of alternative healing thought that claim some of our painful ailments (such as arthritis) are a consequence of us eating fruits or vegetables that we are not adapted for, or to which some of us are allergic. My mother cured very painful arthritic swelling in her hands by giving up all produce in the tomato families. Other people have a problem with potatoes. (Some have a problem but don't know it.)
In Insufficient Mating Material, the hero and heroine are marooned on an island on an alien world, and they have to test food and deal with the possibility that the heroine might not have a tolerance for some of the fruits and vegetables growing there.
Why do I think roots are a problem? Carrots are easy, and you can eat them raw if you want to. Parsnips look like big carrots only white... but you really do have to cook them. Watch out for onions and shallots, because they look like tulip bulbs. There are different roots that look alike. Take ginger root and Jerusalem artichoke. They are both about the shape and size of a small, pudgy hand, with gnarly, stub-tipped fingers, root filaments like fleshy hairs, and are beige-gray.
On our world, some plants do not want to be eaten, especially by the roots (!) so they evolve to be poisonous. What happens in your alien world?
For those interested in research, or obsessed with plausible alien anatomy --and possibly inspired by the fact that a carrot fresh from the ground does not necessarily look "carrot shaped"-- M.I.T. (an eminently respectable place of scholarship) sells --or used to sell-- a to-scale, and anatomically correct poster called "Penises of the Animal Kingdom".
I thought the plural was Penes, but I suppose a few people wouldn't get the point.
And having Googled that, because none of the three of my dictionaries within easy reach gives any guidance on what a proper person should call multiple schlongs, I'm off to pursue other lines of romantic alien research.
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Insufficient Mating Material
"racy, wildly entertaining futuristic romance" ~Writers Write
There are hybrid animals, and hybrid plants which occur either naturally or with the assistance of mankind, also hybrids in Greek and Roman mythology. Some hybrids are sterile, and some are not. Some hybrids are called after a combination of the father's name and the mother's (father's name first). The mythological creatures do not appear to follow this convention... and in fact, now I understand the convention, my mind boggles over the Manticore (man-lion-scorpion).
wikipedia.org/wiki/Hybrid
The etymology is delightful. According to wikipedia, hybrid comes from the ancient Greek for "son of outrageous conduct."
I could have called my Tigron world's black sabre-toothed tigers ... pangers, or tigthers, but I think that would have complicated matters.
This week, I'm more interested in plant hybrids. For world-building in a hurry --not that I recommend taking a short cut, but sometimes one has to-- a few hours in the grocery aisles can be quite inspiring.
There are some astonishing hybrids available, as well as exotic fruits and vegetables that might or might not have been hybridized. I look at the Ugly Fruit, and I wonder whether it evolved to be visually appealing to anything (assuming that its fruit is "designed" to be dispersed with the assistance of creatures that eat the fleshy parts and eject the pits).
There's something spiny and orange that looks like a cross between a sea urchin and a sea slug, and I'm fascinated by those waxy green globes that come inside a pale green papery looking flower. If you were to change their colors, rename them, and describe them carefully as if you'd never seen them before, you'd hardly need to dream up your own fruits and vegetables for your alien romance's world. And, then there are the roots. You have to be careful what you do with your root vegetables, in my opinion.
How did we ever start to eat root veg? Did we observe a primate and copy them? Did our earliest ancestors' curious gaze fall upon something intriguingly orange, or pleasantly white, pushing up through loose soil? I suppose we do have an instinct (as children) to pull things out of the ground and bite them as an experiment. I'm told that I ate a worm once when I was a toddler! Would your aliens have similar instincts?
Your human heroine has to eat in outer space, so not all her food can be unrecognizable (or she'd have to have major allergy testing) or her gut would not be adapted to handle it. We're accustomed to stories about our domestic pets eating human delicacies which are not natural for them... which their guts are not adapted to handle. I've been thinking about what natural carnivores can and cannot eat, because I want my tigers to play a larger role in my next story.
In fact, having spent several hours reading the ingredients on dry pet food for research purposes, I do have to wonder under what circumstances a dog in the wild would eat corn on the cob. Or rice!
There are some schools of alternative healing thought that claim some of our painful ailments (such as arthritis) are a consequence of us eating fruits or vegetables that we are not adapted for, or to which some of us are allergic. My mother cured very painful arthritic swelling in her hands by giving up all produce in the tomato families. Other people have a problem with potatoes. (Some have a problem but don't know it.)
In Insufficient Mating Material, the hero and heroine are marooned on an island on an alien world, and they have to test food and deal with the possibility that the heroine might not have a tolerance for some of the fruits and vegetables growing there.
Why do I think roots are a problem? Carrots are easy, and you can eat them raw if you want to. Parsnips look like big carrots only white... but you really do have to cook them. Watch out for onions and shallots, because they look like tulip bulbs. There are different roots that look alike. Take ginger root and Jerusalem artichoke. They are both about the shape and size of a small, pudgy hand, with gnarly, stub-tipped fingers, root filaments like fleshy hairs, and are beige-gray.
On our world, some plants do not want to be eaten, especially by the roots (!) so they evolve to be poisonous. What happens in your alien world?
For those interested in research, or obsessed with plausible alien anatomy --and possibly inspired by the fact that a carrot fresh from the ground does not necessarily look "carrot shaped"-- M.I.T. (an eminently respectable place of scholarship) sells --or used to sell-- a to-scale, and anatomically correct poster called "Penises of the Animal Kingdom".
I thought the plural was Penes, but I suppose a few people wouldn't get the point.
And having Googled that, because none of the three of my dictionaries within easy reach gives any guidance on what a proper person should call multiple schlongs, I'm off to pursue other lines of romantic alien research.
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Insufficient Mating Material
"racy, wildly entertaining futuristic romance" ~Writers Write
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Naked and Armored
"Naked and Armored" isn't intended as a cheap shot... but my title reflects my love of the oxymoron, the "grabber" that turned a social moment into a minor quest, and my delight in discovering The Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc.
http:www.sca.org
Yesterday, I took my child to a birthday party, and stayed. (I always stay, because she is multi-allergic and I can't expect a party-giver to wield an Epipen). I'd planned to spend two hours in a shady corner of their garden researching plot elements for my next alien romance, but a Michigan thunderstorm drove me inside with other temporarily superfluous parents.
Absorbed as I was with trying to decide whether the Tarot card that best fits my next hero's character and fortune should be Judgement, Temperance, or Knight Of Swords, I commented on a known hobby of one of the fathers.
I thought that he dressed up like d'Artagnan or Richard the Lionheart (or Robin Hood) and reenacted famous Medieval European battles on American soil. It turns out that his society improvises battles. Some of them wear full armor, and some don't.
I was astonished to learn that costumed battles take place in August, and asked how on earth they coped with the heat. Apparently some warriors rely on the ubiquitous water bearers and on creative choices of what to wear --or what not to wear-- under the armor.
Contrary to what I expected (although my metal-clad experience is limited to sitting in a silver-painted car in a parking lot) it never occurred to me that the modern fencers would suffer more that the knights in armor because of the way epéeists and sabreurs have to dress to do battle.
Apart from issues of heat and nudity, I was interested in the conventions of killing each other --a tap on the shoulder from behind-- the detail that the "dead" take a time out to avoid being trodden on by those who are still fighting, the fact that battles are worth points towards winning the season-long war, so killing the King (although fun, and something everyone wants to do) does not mean that the dead King's men stop fighting and run away in leaderless confusion.
Isn't the human element fun?
At RT, I was on several panels where authors revealed what inspires and informs them. A recurrent tip was the value of talking to strangers. As Cathy Clamp said, (and JA Konrath made the same point) someone you meet will possess exactly the insight you are looking for (even if at the time you don't know what it is).
A few posts ago, Jacqueline recommended that you start with your world's Sun when you begin to build a world. (Great and cool advice!). For a great short cut to building a society --if for some reason you don't have time for complete evolution-- a few hours on the Society for Creative Anachronism website might be time well spent.
Their articles on picking a SCA name are fascinating. Names have to have a logic, a consistency, and a purpose. Titles, too. A Welsh King might be a Teyrn. Doesn't that sound like "Tyrant"? A Welsh Lord might be an Arglewydd. (I love that!)
In my own reading, I'm impressed by the power and romance of really cool, and "thus"-sounding names for characters in SF and Fantasy. In LOTR, Aragorn was known by different names... that he had an Elf name, an alias while he was a Ranger, and the heraldic "Aragorn son of Arathorn son of..."
I liked that his lineage was recited as if it were a list of titles of nobility, didn't you? As for Star Wars, I enjoyed the cultural differences in names.
Jabba The Hutt sounds Welsh!
Queen Amidalah was also Padme
Darth was like a title, except that Darth Vader was also addressed as Lord Vader.
I could go on, but I won't. I've got a deadline looming!
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
http:www.sca.org
Yesterday, I took my child to a birthday party, and stayed. (I always stay, because she is multi-allergic and I can't expect a party-giver to wield an Epipen). I'd planned to spend two hours in a shady corner of their garden researching plot elements for my next alien romance, but a Michigan thunderstorm drove me inside with other temporarily superfluous parents.
Absorbed as I was with trying to decide whether the Tarot card that best fits my next hero's character and fortune should be Judgement, Temperance, or Knight Of Swords, I commented on a known hobby of one of the fathers.
I thought that he dressed up like d'Artagnan or Richard the Lionheart (or Robin Hood) and reenacted famous Medieval European battles on American soil. It turns out that his society improvises battles. Some of them wear full armor, and some don't.
I was astonished to learn that costumed battles take place in August, and asked how on earth they coped with the heat. Apparently some warriors rely on the ubiquitous water bearers and on creative choices of what to wear --or what not to wear-- under the armor.
Contrary to what I expected (although my metal-clad experience is limited to sitting in a silver-painted car in a parking lot) it never occurred to me that the modern fencers would suffer more that the knights in armor because of the way epéeists and sabreurs have to dress to do battle.
Apart from issues of heat and nudity, I was interested in the conventions of killing each other --a tap on the shoulder from behind-- the detail that the "dead" take a time out to avoid being trodden on by those who are still fighting, the fact that battles are worth points towards winning the season-long war, so killing the King (although fun, and something everyone wants to do) does not mean that the dead King's men stop fighting and run away in leaderless confusion.
Isn't the human element fun?
At RT, I was on several panels where authors revealed what inspires and informs them. A recurrent tip was the value of talking to strangers. As Cathy Clamp said, (and JA Konrath made the same point) someone you meet will possess exactly the insight you are looking for (even if at the time you don't know what it is).
A few posts ago, Jacqueline recommended that you start with your world's Sun when you begin to build a world. (Great and cool advice!). For a great short cut to building a society --if for some reason you don't have time for complete evolution-- a few hours on the Society for Creative Anachronism website might be time well spent.
Their articles on picking a SCA name are fascinating. Names have to have a logic, a consistency, and a purpose. Titles, too. A Welsh King might be a Teyrn. Doesn't that sound like "Tyrant"? A Welsh Lord might be an Arglewydd. (I love that!)
In my own reading, I'm impressed by the power and romance of really cool, and "thus"-sounding names for characters in SF and Fantasy. In LOTR, Aragorn was known by different names... that he had an Elf name, an alias while he was a Ranger, and the heraldic "Aragorn son of Arathorn son of..."
I liked that his lineage was recited as if it were a list of titles of nobility, didn't you? As for Star Wars, I enjoyed the cultural differences in names.
Jabba The Hutt sounds Welsh!
Queen Amidalah was also Padme
Darth was like a title, except that Darth Vader was also addressed as Lord Vader.
I could go on, but I won't. I've got a deadline looming!
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Insufficient Mating Material's trouble-making heroine
Insufficient Mating Material has just been launched in the UK as of May 25th 2007. I'm told that it can be found in Tesco, WHSmith, Waterstone's, and Blackwell
"Be good..." they say. "And if you can't be good, be careful!"
It must be almost impossible to be careful when all the worlds are watching all the time, and not always sympathetically.
Princesses and celebrities have everywoman's problems, but their problems are magnified a hundredfold by the telephoto lens of public scrutiny. Everyone wants to know who they are seeing, what they are drinking, what they did in bed and with whom, whether or not they are pregnant...
A single alien princess might precipitate a constitutional crisis if an unflattering camera caught her just as a breeze was bellying out her bathing costume... especially if it was common knowledge that she'd slept with a foreign terrorist for kicks.
Princess Martia-Djulia has all the problems of a youngest child (the third child) but more so. It seems pointless to compete with her brilliant older brother and sister. Until senility overtakes them, they will always be older, wiser, better-read, more experienced, more athletic, more powerful.
In a world of feudal primogeniture, the older she gets, the lower her status. She is only interesting if she is scandalous.
Insufficient Mating Material's heroine was introduced in FORCED MATE, where she got a great deal more than she bargained for when she flirted with a handsome --and most unsuitable-- commoner.
She also went through her brother's private "stuff" and got caught, did the gustatory equivalent of spiking the drinks at her brother's wedding banquet, made a compromising video of herself in bed with a tattooed stranger, and fell hopelessly in love with a hunk who was honor-bound to marry someone else.
She makes her dramatic appearance in Insufficient Mating Material as the Royal bride at an Imperial shotgun wedding. As she surveys the throngs who have come to see her married to the mate of her dreams (who has miraculously been relieved of the fiancee he intended to marry and brought back to her) her happiness seems complete...
CHAPTER ONE
Never in all Great Djinn history has any Imperial Princess had such a Mating Ceremony on such short notice, and to a mate freely chosen by the Princess!
Princess Martia-Djulia savored her unique happiness. The second best part was that she was going to get away with it. By taking an alien and a commoner like Commander Jason to mate, she poked a defiant finger in the eye of Imperial tradition.
“You’re glowing,” her tall, grimly magnificent brother commented as he joined her on the raised throne-stage and offered her the support of his bent arm for the slow, gyring descent of the stage into the Throne Room below the Imperial suite.
“I’ve a lot to glow about,” Martia-Djulia retorted. She could have made a barbed remark about how Tarrant-Arragon had tricked his own cold, pale bride into saying the irrevocable Imperial Mating Vows, but she didn’t.
After all, Tarrant-Arragon had hunted down Commander Jason, and brought him back to her.
Her thoughts returned to her Jason who shared her taste for subversion and mischief-making. He was the Mate who would change her sad, lonely life; her boring, bottled-up life. He was her rescuer, her lover, her private hero, the warrior who made her feel young and beautiful, and who awed the Fewmet out of her insolent, uncontrollable sons.
He was the only male in all the forty-two gestates of her life who had ever given her an orgasm.
Martia-Djulia took a deep, happy breath as the last notes of the Fanfare Royal drifted up from the balconies of the Throne Room, and the Crown Prince’s throne stage —its stark, craggy contours pleasingly draped for the occasion in her favorite colors of dusk-sky mauve and midnight-purple— descended silently, like one of her brother’s deliberately placed chess pieces, only fortress-sized.
“I can hardly believe it,” she whispered to herself as she nodded graciously to the crowd below. “I’m about to be Mated to the only male who has the physical strength to pick me up and sweep me off my feet, and the desire to do so.”
Tarrant-Arragon lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, when I think of Jason’s passion--” she said, "When I think of how violently he knocked the ceremonial headmask off an interfering Saurian Ambassador, and of the wicked, sexual insults he threw….”
“You liked that, didn’t you?” Tarrant-Arragon teased. “But, I hope you don’t expect your new Mate to pick you up, attack Saurian Ambassadors, and hurl sexual insults in front of our distinguished guests.”
Martia-Djulia took in the carefully orchestrated tableau where she stood on the stepped stage, waiting for Jason to make an entrance through one of the Throne Room’s soaring central portals.
What would he be thinking? Would he remember how they met at a Virgins’ Ball in this very Throne Room? Would he mentally undress her with his strange, dark-nebula eyes and notice that she looked better than he remembered?
Surely, even a fashion hawk like Jason would approve of her sense of style. For her second Mating, she could hardly usurp the pallor of a Royal Virgin bride. She had chosen the subtle, shifting colors of a fast-frozen sea, glittering with the palest, most precious gemstones aligned in all the right places for the most flattering effect.
“They all came back!” Martia-Djulia breathed, gazing out at the heads of state, ambassadors, military leaders, and subject royalty who had been hastily recalled, some before they had returned home after her brother’s nuptials.
“Of course,” Tarrant-Arragon murmured. “On occasions like this, no matter how lofty the ceiling, it is never high enough, is it?”
The pentagonal Throne Room shimmered with the warmth rising from the thronged guests. Massed body heat made the vast room a battleground of assorted perfumes and less intentional odors that only Djinn nostrils might identify.
Suddenly, Martia-Djulia was conscious of emerging mature notes from her own signature perfume.
“Tarrant-Arragon,” she whispered anxiously. “Did I overdo the Queen of the Night?”
“You seem to have put it absolutely everywhere,” he drawled, and grinned, confirming that his Djinn-sharp olfactory senses were as embarrassingly acute as those of a sea-predator.
“I’ll let Jason lick it off,” Martia-Djulia quipped brazening out her secret embarrassment.
“If he’s got any Djinn in him, he might find that joy a little overpowering,” Tarrant-Arragon said.
Martia-Djulia felt a vague, fleeting apprehension. Was it a certain enigmatic tone in her brother’s voice? Something wasn’t right. Tarrant-Arragon had once threatened to kill Commander Jason if her lover turned out to be of rogue Djinn lineage.
Why was Jason late?
Her anxious gaze searched the double avenues of ground-lighted, living trees which flanked the four grand entrances.
“Ah. The so delightful Henquist and Thor-quentin.” Tarrant-Arragon jerked his head to indicate the upper level balcony where her two tall sons leaned negligently on the elaborately carved stone balustrade. “They look pleased.”
Martia-Djulia smiled hopefully at her usually sullen, sulky sons, until she realized that Tarrant-Arragon was being ironic.
...
“Nervous?” Tarrant-Arragon asked mockingly.
Before she could retort, a loud fanfare made further conversation impossible. The pentagonal room vibrated with the thunder of massed war-drums. Colored plumes of scented smoke surged up and tumbled from the Imperial throne-space, reminiscent of an ultraviolet tinted, pyroclastic cloud. The Emperor’s throne-stage thrust up through the smoke like a coldly gleaming, ice-volcano rising out of a swirling fog.
Her father, The Emperor Djerrold Vulcan V, appeared to stroll on the pinkish-purple vapor trails, high above his guests. Martia-Djulia tried to imprint on her memory every detail of this splendid, dramatic illusion.
“Dear friends, welcome back,” the Emperor began with his customary, affable menace. “You are now here to witness the exchange of vows between my younger daughter and her new mate. Since The Princess Martia-Djulia is a widow, and a mother, and since this is her second marriage, there will —obviously— be no display of proofs of virginity.”
He pointed his Fire-Stone-Ringed forefinger around the room, his guests shrank in their seats, and he smiled tigrishly.
“There will come a point when my dear daughter will ask anyone who objects to her choice of mate to speak out. Anyone who dares to do so will be incinerated.”
Star-blue lightning sizzled and flashed from the Emperor’s finger. Regrettably, her father had flatly refused to even try to color-coordinate his laser ring’s fire for this one occasion.
“Out of consideration for your fellow guests’ nostrils,” Djerrold Vulcan V continued pleasantly, “I advise against any interference. Proceed!”
High above, another fanfare blared from long, deep-noted instruments. The massive central doors at the far end of the Imperial throne room opened.
“I kept my promise,” Tarrant-Arragon said quietly, “…to bring back Jason, if he agreed to come, or to find you a mate like your Commander Jason.”
She wasn’t paying attention, though it was an odd thing to say. Unseen, a massed male voice choir roared out the Mating Anthem... usually heard only once in a generation at the Mating of an Emperor or the Emperor's male heir.
This, too, was her due. She’d been promised that her Mating would be as splendid as the one she had organized for her big brother. And so it was. Only prettier.
“Here he comes!” Martia-Djulia whispered, trembling.
A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette limped from the darkness beyond the doorway.
His beloved, scarred face was a shadowed, distant blur… but something wasn’t right. Had Tarrant-Arragon tortured and starved Commander Jason into agreeing to Mate with her?
“What is wrong with him?” she hissed accusingly. Time stretched out. A sense of creeping horror chilled her vitals. “You promised not to force him.”
Her thoughts raced back to three Imperatrix cycles ago.
She vividly remembered what they’d agreed, just before Tarrant-Arragon left to exact terrible revenge on the unknown villains who’d tried to assassinate him on his honeymoon.
I want him to be happy, she’d protested when Tarrant-Arragon caught her trying to erase compromising footage of Jason on top of her. Jason’s happiness hadn’t been on her mind when she triggered the surveillance systems.
Do you think he’d be happy with me if I force him to be my mate? she’d asked her brother, who had no scruples when it came to mate appropriation.
No, Tarrant-Arragon had bluntly told her, dashing any lingering hope that she could blackmail Jason into returning to her bed permanently.
At the Virgins’ Ball, Commander Jason had made it clear that he’d rather be searching the rim worlds for his errant mate-to-be, but he was on duty. Since he had to be at the Ball, he’d been in the mood for a revenge dock in any bay that would accommodate him.
Martia-Djulia had only wanted illicit excitement — until Jason gave her so much, she wanted him to do it for the rest of her life.
“Did you force him? Did you torture him?” Martia-Djulia demanded urgently.
“Not really,” her appalling brother replied.
Something was wrong. Martia-Djulia's heart thumped. She clasped nervous hands to her glittering breast, and glared in an effort to get a better look at her promised Mate. At this distance, across the Throne Room, it was hard to tell…. Closer he came. Closer.
I hope you enjoyed this glimpse of Martia-Djulia.
Read her story in Insufficient Mating Material
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The forbidden underbelly of alien romance
Twelve hours ago, at three in the morning, I "Twittered" about whether or not my alien romances blog today would be about aerodynamic snot.
When one's husband is a car guy, one's daughter is multi-allergic, Elm pollen is in the air, and juvenile coughing wakes the family so it is necessary to get out the nebulizer, then the pre-dawn conversations sometimes sink to a rather low --but terminologically precocious-- level.
I venture to say that being a mother is a brutalizing influence. Pre-motherhood, I doubt that I'd have laughed with malevolent glee at the thought of a burly dustman fainting over the whiff of someone else's thoroughly-used diaper (nappy) in the trash.
Snot. Allergies. Aliens.
There's a long literary tradition of aliens succumbing to Earthly ills. It's not surprising. In the olden days, missionaries and colonists unintentionally killed off isolated, "primitive" communities by exposing them to "civilization's" diseases.
If this happens on our own planet, imagine how an alien would suffer if he visited us and encountered airborne irritants and allergens which were new to his immune system.
I've read that allergies may be worse in the modern western world because we keep our homes too clean, and our toddlers no longer hunt, gather and consume worms fresh from the soil.
Contact suits would protect the alien from the dreadful spores, fibres, chemicals, dander, powders, and other bits and bobs that fill the air we breathe, but how many hunky aliens wear them?
How many hunks walk about sporting a surgical mask? In Japan, out of courtesy, people who have a cold wear surgical masks in public to help keep their germs to themselves. That would make Japan a very good beach-head for a stealthy alien invasion, wouldn't it?
Sneezing and coughing isn't romantic, so we alien romance authors are encouraged to gloss over it, just as Regency Romance authors are not pressed to talk about the logistics of chamber pots, the driveway hazards of collapsing cess pits, and the summer stench of the Thames.
I was looking at someone's wonderfully romantic MySpace site the other day. It showed image after image of tall (usually hirsute and unkempt) knights in armor, clutching swooning and flimsily clad females to their steel-breastplates... and (apparently) persisting in an attempt to inflict a french kiss --do you think the French call it that?-- on the insensible lady. I couldn't help wondering whether the ladies were fainting because the Knightly breath was devastating.
My own olfactory senses are quite acute, so are those of my aliens. The notion --mentioned on television last night-- of "smellyvision" appalls me. Life is quite enough of an intrusion without adding compulsory smells to the entertainment media! But, I'm giving further serious thought to a hayfevered alien heroine.
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Insufficient Mating Material (release in the UK 5/25/2007)
Heroine with rash, alien berries.
Forced Mate
Heroine with smoke sensitivity, nicotine allergy
When one's husband is a car guy, one's daughter is multi-allergic, Elm pollen is in the air, and juvenile coughing wakes the family so it is necessary to get out the nebulizer, then the pre-dawn conversations sometimes sink to a rather low --but terminologically precocious-- level.
I venture to say that being a mother is a brutalizing influence. Pre-motherhood, I doubt that I'd have laughed with malevolent glee at the thought of a burly dustman fainting over the whiff of someone else's thoroughly-used diaper (nappy) in the trash.
Snot. Allergies. Aliens.
There's a long literary tradition of aliens succumbing to Earthly ills. It's not surprising. In the olden days, missionaries and colonists unintentionally killed off isolated, "primitive" communities by exposing them to "civilization's" diseases.
If this happens on our own planet, imagine how an alien would suffer if he visited us and encountered airborne irritants and allergens which were new to his immune system.
I've read that allergies may be worse in the modern western world because we keep our homes too clean, and our toddlers no longer hunt, gather and consume worms fresh from the soil.
Contact suits would protect the alien from the dreadful spores, fibres, chemicals, dander, powders, and other bits and bobs that fill the air we breathe, but how many hunky aliens wear them?
How many hunks walk about sporting a surgical mask? In Japan, out of courtesy, people who have a cold wear surgical masks in public to help keep their germs to themselves. That would make Japan a very good beach-head for a stealthy alien invasion, wouldn't it?
Sneezing and coughing isn't romantic, so we alien romance authors are encouraged to gloss over it, just as Regency Romance authors are not pressed to talk about the logistics of chamber pots, the driveway hazards of collapsing cess pits, and the summer stench of the Thames.
I was looking at someone's wonderfully romantic MySpace site the other day. It showed image after image of tall (usually hirsute and unkempt) knights in armor, clutching swooning and flimsily clad females to their steel-breastplates... and (apparently) persisting in an attempt to inflict a french kiss --do you think the French call it that?-- on the insensible lady. I couldn't help wondering whether the ladies were fainting because the Knightly breath was devastating.
My own olfactory senses are quite acute, so are those of my aliens. The notion --mentioned on television last night-- of "smellyvision" appalls me. Life is quite enough of an intrusion without adding compulsory smells to the entertainment media! But, I'm giving further serious thought to a hayfevered alien heroine.
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Insufficient Mating Material (release in the UK 5/25/2007)
Heroine with rash, alien berries.
Forced Mate
Heroine with smoke sensitivity, nicotine allergy
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Smoking Characters
I don't have any Mothers' Day thoughts for alien romances. Of course, aliens ought to have high days and holidays that they celebrate. Whether they have special days to honor various family members would depend on their social structure.
Would a society that is organized like a group of Bonobo, or like Emperor Penguins, or like a pride of lions --or a harem of hens-- celebrate Mothers' Day?
So, I think I'll default to the other burningly topical issue this weekend. Smoking!
In FORCED MATE, the alien hero --Crown Prince Tarrant-Arragon-- has his first reflective moment alone with the disreputable human mercenary who has been hired to be his driver and tour guide.
Grievous is a smoker. Tarrant-Arragon is not. You wouldn't expect someone who lives in a closed environment like a spaceship to indulge in the recreational slow burning of plant matter.
However, Tarrant-Arragon has seen movies. He knows what a cigarette is. He also understands machismo and one-upmanship. When a subordinate and a lesser being offers him a cigarette along with a critique of his romantic prowess, he is not going to wimp out.
-----
"I'd say we've frightened her, Sir."
"I cannot imagine how, or why. I told her I wanted to mate."
"Yup. That might have done it." The Earthling tapped two cigarettes out of a battered paper packet. "Want one, Sir?"
Tarrant-Arragon accepted it, and watched Grievous to see whether it mattered which end of the cigarette went into his mouth.
.....
(advice about Tarrant-Arragon's vocabulary and use of English follows)
.....
"Ah, well, I dare say you've had more young ladies than I've had cups of tea, Sir. But does this one know your ways, Sir? Eh? Or does she think like one of us Earthlings?"
Tarrant-Arragon didn't reply. He blew a perfect smoke ring, and watched its wavering ascent.
"Oh, splendid, Sir! Where did you learn to do that?" Apparently, Grievous thought flattery was expected.
Tarrant-Arragon grinned. "I've watched Earthling movies off your satellites, mostly for pointers on your courting customs. I find this smoking somewhat intoxicating. Will it adversely affect my breath for kissing?"
"It might, Sir. I shouldn't let that worry you. A girl will put up with all sorts of ill treatment if she knows she's going to marry a prince."
"No doubt," Tarrant-Arragon said, savaging the cigarette under his heel.
"Oh, that's right!" Grievous slapped his forehead. "You don't intend to inform her of her great good fortune, do you, Sir? It's going to be romantic, like Beauty And The Beast. Next thing we know, you'll be wanting her to love you for your sweet nature and kind heart."
-----
If blowing smoke rings is a measure of a smoker's excellence, Tarrant-Arragon manages to prove himself superior to Grievous, before he finds a plausible and macho reason to extinguish the cigarette.
I think this is my only "smoking" scene in my books. Just as movie actors of a certain generation liked to smoke because smoking provided a compact activity, so authors need some kind of "business" for their characters to engage in while they are delivering dialogue.
It's not always easy. Characters cannot constantly be drinking, or having sex (though those are favorite activities when something really important needs to be said). Eating presents logistical problems in a romance, alien or otherwise. You don't want people talking with their mouths full. Having a bath works within reason, but other bathroom activities may be frowned upon. Exercising is a good one, or sewing, card-playing, or staring into space (through a Bridge window).
What do you like your alien romance characters to be doing while they have a heart-to-heart?
Happy Mothers' Day!
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Admin ... Can the dinosaur brain adapt?
I think I may have fouled up.
While I was in Houston for the Romantic Times booklovers convention, and inspired by all the good and positive things I heard about group blogging, I started a cross-genre blog for authors who love to write animal characters into their books. (Males-And-Other-Animals).
This morning, having noticed that my "new" co-bloggers hadn't put up their own websites and other urls of interest, I went stabbing around in the virtual dark, taking my responsibilities as site owner seriously, you see.
Before long, I realized that I didn't have to "do" HTML. This was inconvenient, because I couldn't copy and paste half a column of hrefs. However, there were compensations.
Book videos/book trailers, for instance, can be permanently lodged in the footer. What you do, having uploaded yours simply by title, is doubleclick on it, and then scroll to the top of the blogpage to watch it.
"I'm done watching this" will appear above the video. For a few moments, I was taken aback until I realized that this is not someone else's snark about my Insufficient Mating Material book trailer, but a handy link to stop the video.
Seductive!!! Linnea and Susan, take note. I think there may be links for podcasts and tv shows, too.
I tried to be responsible. I experimented on another blog that I control. The upgrade warning warned me that I'd lose any changes I'd made to colors and fonts. It also promised to save my original indefinitely. (Of course, I can't now find the original).
Too late, I find that I seem to have "lost" our silver heart logo. (Jacqueline, it is still on the old, unimproved, Survival-Romances site, so all is not lost)
I apologize for the inconvenience.
Best wishes
Rowena Cherry
While I was in Houston for the Romantic Times booklovers convention, and inspired by all the good and positive things I heard about group blogging, I started a cross-genre blog for authors who love to write animal characters into their books. (Males-And-Other-Animals).
This morning, having noticed that my "new" co-bloggers hadn't put up their own websites and other urls of interest, I went stabbing around in the virtual dark, taking my responsibilities as site owner seriously, you see.
Before long, I realized that I didn't have to "do" HTML. This was inconvenient, because I couldn't copy and paste half a column of hrefs. However, there were compensations.
Book videos/book trailers, for instance, can be permanently lodged in the footer. What you do, having uploaded yours simply by title, is doubleclick on it, and then scroll to the top of the blogpage to watch it.
"I'm done watching this" will appear above the video. For a few moments, I was taken aback until I realized that this is not someone else's snark about my Insufficient Mating Material book trailer, but a handy link to stop the video.
Seductive!!! Linnea and Susan, take note. I think there may be links for podcasts and tv shows, too.
I tried to be responsible. I experimented on another blog that I control. The upgrade warning warned me that I'd lose any changes I'd made to colors and fonts. It also promised to save my original indefinitely. (Of course, I can't now find the original).
Too late, I find that I seem to have "lost" our silver heart logo. (Jacqueline, it is still on the old, unimproved, Survival-Romances site, so all is not lost)
I apologize for the inconvenience.
Best wishes
Rowena Cherry
Sunday, April 29, 2007
It's time to honk
Linnea, Susan, Cindy, and yours truly (as I like to sign off some of Insufficient Mating Material's blogs) are at the Romantic Times Booklovers' convention in Houston Texas.
Linnea organized an Intergalactic Bar and Grille party for readers, where ten authors of science-fiction romance did a spaced out version of wheel of fortune, and the house was packed. Not only that, those who came were ready and able to answer great (and not-to-challenging) questions about our books.
Janet Miller, Barbara Karmazin, Isabo Kelly, Susan Grant, Linnea Sinclair, Susan Kearney, Evangeline Anderson, Deidre Knight, Colby Hodge, and Stacey Klemstein (and I) put together thee or four gravity defying questions and a few fun prizes.
Susan Kearney, Susan Grant, PC Cast, Anne Groel, Deidre Knight, Colby Hodge, and yours truly were on Linnea's Starships and Swordfights panel workshop. Susan Kearney made a huge impression on the room (I hope!) when she told readers and writers that it is time science fiction romance came out from under the wing of paranormal... time science fiction romance lovers stood up to be counted.
The reason I am blogging today about what Susan said is that I had a jaw dropping conversation with a powerful gentleman (industry strength, not cover model) during the massive BookFair run by Katy Books in the Imperial Ballroom.
In effect, there seems to be a perception in some parts that there is a literary glass ceiling for science fiction romance, and it is in the avian armpit of paranormal. Now there is a mixed metaphor. It makes more sense if you think of paranormal as a big speckled hen with lots of multi-colored chicks.
While I was working on reviving my smile, three readers almost in succession came up to me and expressed their joy over science fiction romance as a genre. That is why I say that it is time to honk if you love aliens and space-faring humans in your romances.
Now, I'm off to look at the space center.
Linnea organized an Intergalactic Bar and Grille party for readers, where ten authors of science-fiction romance did a spaced out version of wheel of fortune, and the house was packed. Not only that, those who came were ready and able to answer great (and not-to-challenging) questions about our books.
Janet Miller, Barbara Karmazin, Isabo Kelly, Susan Grant, Linnea Sinclair, Susan Kearney, Evangeline Anderson, Deidre Knight, Colby Hodge, and Stacey Klemstein (and I) put together thee or four gravity defying questions and a few fun prizes.
Susan Kearney, Susan Grant, PC Cast, Anne Groel, Deidre Knight, Colby Hodge, and yours truly were on Linnea's Starships and Swordfights panel workshop. Susan Kearney made a huge impression on the room (I hope!) when she told readers and writers that it is time science fiction romance came out from under the wing of paranormal... time science fiction romance lovers stood up to be counted.
The reason I am blogging today about what Susan said is that I had a jaw dropping conversation with a powerful gentleman (industry strength, not cover model) during the massive BookFair run by Katy Books in the Imperial Ballroom.
In effect, there seems to be a perception in some parts that there is a literary glass ceiling for science fiction romance, and it is in the avian armpit of paranormal. Now there is a mixed metaphor. It makes more sense if you think of paranormal as a big speckled hen with lots of multi-colored chicks.
While I was working on reviving my smile, three readers almost in succession came up to me and expressed their joy over science fiction romance as a genre. That is why I say that it is time to honk if you love aliens and space-faring humans in your romances.
Now, I'm off to look at the space center.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Strange Brews
I think my aural memory is very good, but sometimes it isn't.
For instance, I was absolutely certain that I knew the opening lines to The Eagles quintessentially seventies song "Life in the Fast Lane."
Mea culpa. I thought the heroine was terminally vain.
I listened to that song a lot while writing about Insufficient Mating Material's fashionista heroine who was so pampered, she could not even undress without the hero's help, and the slightly brutal Djetth (Jeth).
It wasn't my imaginary theme song for the book, but I felt an affinity.
A couple of days ago, I learned that the heroine was "terminally pretty" (to rhyme with "the hard cold city"). How devastating to know that I have been mistaken for more than two decades!
OK. I will admit it. I loved The Cream song, Strange Brew but I never have been clear what it is about. When I was a giddy youth, I didn't read the transcripts on the backs of LPs.
These songs recapture my happiest memories -- well... I should modify that, but the late sixties, seventies and eighties were fabulous, and that's when I had time to listen to the radio, and when I judged potential boyfriends by their record collections.
Did anyone else do that? Or am I truly weird?
LP-Harmony!!!!
I've also been polling my internet acquaintances about their opinions of Newsletters put out by authors, because I am on a panel speaking about the virtues of Newsletters on behalf of the EPIC organization (for electronically published authors) at the upcoming Romantic Times convention.
More than once as my questionnaires came back to me, I heard that readers love recipes in authors' newsletters. Good grief, people are interested in what I eat, whether I cook it, and what ingredients I use! Who knew?
Music, recipes... now add Linnea Sinclair's barman, Sin.
When you write do you follow the What's In Your Wallet? line of characterization?
Some characterization pundits advise authors to make lists of what is in their heroes' pockets.
(I tried that in Insufficient Mating Material, with good reason. My survival consultant, Les Stroud, aka Survivorman always tells the Science Channel viewer what, apart from his multi-tool, is in his pocket when he is stranded on a deserted island or other hostile-to-life spot.)
How about, What's In Your Drink? (I have paranoid, intergalactic superspy heroes who wonder that, too.)
Let's take world-building to an appropriate level. What do your inter-stellar characters drink for survival, for sustenance, for pleasure, and for a buzz?
Is it basically a gin and tonic with dye in it? Is it green small beer? (That's a fraction deeper than you think). Is it Blue Curacao with vodka? Is water the champagne of the future? Or serum?
Who saw Antz? The Bar Scene? Drinking from the aphids' butts (not that I recommend it, but does it have potential for an alien lifestyle)? There was another bar scene in An Ant's Life. Cartoons can be highly creative.
Well, here's the kicker.
Tonight (Sunday 9 -11 pm Eastern), April Fools' Night, with the moon all but full, Linnea, Susan, Colby and Rowena are going to be appearing in character on the Passionate Internet Voices Radio in order to put the lot together.
We'll be in Linnea's Intergalactic Bar and Grille (a franchise thereof) with Sin the bartender making otherwordly drinks. And we'll be planning a big surprise for Earth.
Best wishes,
Rowena
For instance, I was absolutely certain that I knew the opening lines to The Eagles quintessentially seventies song "Life in the Fast Lane."
Mea culpa. I thought the heroine was terminally vain.
I listened to that song a lot while writing about Insufficient Mating Material's fashionista heroine who was so pampered, she could not even undress without the hero's help, and the slightly brutal Djetth (Jeth).
It wasn't my imaginary theme song for the book, but I felt an affinity.
A couple of days ago, I learned that the heroine was "terminally pretty" (to rhyme with "the hard cold city"). How devastating to know that I have been mistaken for more than two decades!
OK. I will admit it. I loved The Cream song, Strange Brew but I never have been clear what it is about. When I was a giddy youth, I didn't read the transcripts on the backs of LPs.
These songs recapture my happiest memories -- well... I should modify that, but the late sixties, seventies and eighties were fabulous, and that's when I had time to listen to the radio, and when I judged potential boyfriends by their record collections.
Did anyone else do that? Or am I truly weird?
LP-Harmony!!!!
I've also been polling my internet acquaintances about their opinions of Newsletters put out by authors, because I am on a panel speaking about the virtues of Newsletters on behalf of the EPIC organization (for electronically published authors) at the upcoming Romantic Times convention.
More than once as my questionnaires came back to me, I heard that readers love recipes in authors' newsletters. Good grief, people are interested in what I eat, whether I cook it, and what ingredients I use! Who knew?
Music, recipes... now add Linnea Sinclair's barman, Sin.
When you write do you follow the What's In Your Wallet? line of characterization?
Some characterization pundits advise authors to make lists of what is in their heroes' pockets.
(I tried that in Insufficient Mating Material, with good reason. My survival consultant, Les Stroud, aka Survivorman always tells the Science Channel viewer what, apart from his multi-tool, is in his pocket when he is stranded on a deserted island or other hostile-to-life spot.)
How about, What's In Your Drink? (I have paranoid, intergalactic superspy heroes who wonder that, too.)
Let's take world-building to an appropriate level. What do your inter-stellar characters drink for survival, for sustenance, for pleasure, and for a buzz?
Is it basically a gin and tonic with dye in it? Is it green small beer? (That's a fraction deeper than you think). Is it Blue Curacao with vodka? Is water the champagne of the future? Or serum?
Who saw Antz? The Bar Scene? Drinking from the aphids' butts (not that I recommend it, but does it have potential for an alien lifestyle)? There was another bar scene in An Ant's Life. Cartoons can be highly creative.
Well, here's the kicker.
Tonight (Sunday 9 -11 pm Eastern), April Fools' Night, with the moon all but full, Linnea, Susan, Colby and Rowena are going to be appearing in character on the Passionate Internet Voices Radio in order to put the lot together.
We'll be in Linnea's Intergalactic Bar and Grille (a franchise thereof) with Sin the bartender making otherwordly drinks. And we'll be planning a big surprise for Earth.
Best wishes,
Rowena
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Disparate things and unfinished business
This image has absolutely nothing to do with Cindy's sagging middle, or Jacqueline's evolutionary preferences... it has to do with mine, perhaps.
Also with unfinished business.
On reading Jacqueline's fascinating blog about world-building, the two books I thought of were H.G. Wells's The Time Machine (I confess... it was not so much the book as the movie with Jeremy Irons as the troglodite-predator branch of homo sapiens) and The Sparrow.
Both books had a predator and a prey species who looked similar. In the case of The Sparrow, it was a matter of convergent evolution. The predator evolved to look like its prey, so that hunting would be less strenuous.
If I'm going to have a predator and prey species in my books, I'd like the predatory males to be attractive, and to have a limited interest in eating prey females.
I can say that. In both The Sparrow and the Jeremy Irons movie, a predator wanted to have intercourse with a female member of the prey species. Now, the female prey wasn't keen on the idea, in one case because it was dangerous... like a deer going to bed with a lion, in the other, because Jeremy looked and acted a bit like an Uruk-Hai.
Now, the Uruk-Hai were buff and ripped, a bit too ripped in some cases, really, but they had terrible dentition and I'm sure their breath was unimaginably bad.
The problem with all this for mainstream literature is human taboos. If we were lion-men, as a society we'd probably imprison any lion-man who indulged his attraction to a deer-lady.
Our culture has fewer issues when the predator is, or claims to be, a god. At least when I was a schoolgirl, we studied Greek and Roman literature in school. We didn't bat an eyelid when a honking great male swan (who was the king of all gods in disguise) gave Leda a couple of double-yolked eggs. Or when he turned a girlfriend into a cow so he could continue the affaire without upsetting his wife.
OK. His wife was upset anyway.
Zeus's other disguises included being a bull (now that is scary, and impractical, you'd think) and a golden shower (!).
For the last fifteen or so years, I've chosen to write alien romances about "gods from outer space" which allows me to cherry-pick items from our culture that I'd like to claim the gods gave us... like chess and fortune-telling. It's rather like the point Margaret made about our language stealing choice words from other nationalities, only --perhaps-- in reverse.
As for the picture, it's concept art from a work in progress and I put it up here simply for a bit of visual interest. I've gone back to Ed Traxler who created my Insufficient Mating Material slideshow to produce a slide show for the e-book Mating Net (a short story).
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
rowenacherry.com
Sunday, March 18, 2007
A picture is worth a thousand words
Cover art is supposed to do the job, and we've talked about that on this blog.
But what happens when your cover art doesn't communicate what the author thinks it should communicate? Can you compensate? Should you?
Notice the caveat. I'm talking about what I think, and I concede that I may not be right. An aurora borealis and a naked couple rolling about in the sea does not communicate "alien romance" or even "survival romance" to me.
It probably says "Sex!" Maybe even "Fallible, unreliable, all-too-human sex!" given my title, which is actually a chess term for a "No-win situation" but not a lot of people realize that.
So, when I set off on a booksigning (drive-by) tour down I-75, I took my poster with me. If an author has a visual aid with her, I think she has a better shot at making an impression.
I felt a little self-conscious thrusting my custom poster under busy romance experts' noses, but even a picture of a naked man is more interesting than much else I can think of, and self-promotion is not a game for the shrinking violet.
On the left are scenes from my "novel trailer" (done by Edward Traxler) showing planets and spaceships (for space), a couple of aviation dogfights (action), parachutes and exploding stars (space and action), a naked man (ah, well, if you've got one, flaunt him), a conflagration.
On the right were jpgs given to me personally by Survivorman, who was my survival consultant to make sure I translated all my research into plausible action, and who also gave me some really cool survival tips... not to mention the cover quote. The slides show a conch, which is a handy container for boiling water on the campfire, a fishing technique using whittled sticks, a shelter.
In my opinion, if you are making a book trailer, you should consider what other uses you could make of custom artwork stills!
Signed copies of Insufficient Mating Material are at:
KY
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
1932 Pavilion Way
Lexington, KY 40509
859-543-8518
TN
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
8029 Kingston Pike
Knoxville, TN 37919
865-670-0773
GA
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
50 Barrett Pkwy Suite 1100
Marietta, GA 30066
770-422-2261
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
3625 Dallas Hwy SW
Marietta, GA 30064
770-424-0511
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
2952 Cobb Pkwy
Atlanta, GA 30339
770-953-0966
FL
B.Dalton Booksellers
Regency Square Mall
9501 Arlington Expressway #250
Jacksonville, FL 32225
904-721-2446
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
9282 Atlantic Blvd
Jacksonville, FL 3225
904-721-2446
Barnes & Noble Booksellers
10280 Midtown Parkway
Jacksonville, FL 32225
904-928-2027
(Also, Barnes & Noble Booksellers
The Streets of Westchester
9455 Civic Centre Blvd
West Chester, OH 45069
513-755-2258)
see the Insufficient Mating Material video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLuEtY7oP7A
INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL takes up where FORCED MATE ended, with Djetthro-Jason (Jethro-Jason) severely beaten, about to undergo surgery to change his face and identity before his shotgun wedding to the frivolous Princess Martia-Djulia (Marsha-Julia).
No one gives a thought to what Martia-Djulia might do when she realizes that it’s not her unsuitable lover, Commander Jason, but a stranger being frog-marched up the aisle to become her Mate.
Her surprising reaction sets off a firestorm of rumor… and rattles a murderer who thought he’d gotten away with an ancient crime.
INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL EXCERPT
A Tricky Experiment
“Maybe, sweetheart, we should have sex to prove to you that you can and will enjoy it.”
“I enjoyed it once. I am very happy with my memories. I don’t need you or your experiment to prove anything,” she said stiffly.
“Once?” He raised an eyebrow. His lips twitched. Too late, Martia-Djulia realized that she had just contradicted one of her earlier statements.
“The Aim of the Experiment is to discover whether or not we are sexually compatible,” Djetth said loftily. She suspected that he was amusing himself by parodying a formal checklist. “Method: to have mind-blowing recreational sex using positions and techniques that mitigate or avoid unfortunate consequences. Expected result--”
“What unfortunate consequences?”
“Insects in your hair?” he teased. “Sand in your baby box. A baby. Infection. Injury. Legal consummation of a Mating we might not want.”
His gaze flickered. Martia-Djulia had the impression that his list was deliberately ordered.
“Injury to whom?” she asked, ignoring the glossed over “baby.”
“I’ve wondered why you haven’t blasted me backward onto my butt since our Mating Day. I’ve certainly deserved it.”
“Yes you have!” she agreed heatedly.
ISBN 0-505-52711-1
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Death and the Villain
Yesterday, Cindy blogged about how she feels when the hero dies. As a reader, I don't like it when that happens, either. I know that if Harry Potter dies, then Deathly Hallows will probably dent my drywall.
It might be an exaggeration to say that I live for Happy Ever After, but I often read the last pages of a book before I buy it, to make sure I'm not going to invest my time, money and emotions and be deprived of my happy ending!
But what about the villain?
I deliberately choose to call him (or her) the "villain" rather than the "antagonist" for the purposes of this discussion. One has to be more than a major difficulty to justify being killed off in a romance, don't you think?
Some villains are too interesting to dispose of. One might want them for the sequel!
There is also the ticklish problem of who will kill the villain, if the plot calls for the villain to die.
Can the heroine remain a romantic heroine if she kills the villain? Is it acceptable if she kills the villain by accident, or in self-defense, or in defense of the hero or some other vulnerable character?
Princess Leia strangled Jabba The Hutt. That was cool.
Eowen killed the undead Ringwraith King. That was cooler.
Ditto for the hero. There's not so much of a double standard about a hero's activities. He's usually a knight or high-ranking professional warrior.
Nevertheless...
Luke didn't.
Aragorn didn't.
Bond has a license (not that he's sfr) but seldom kills the arch villain directly.
Is it a cop out if the villain is simply hoist by his own petard (which literally means blown up by his own bomb)? There is a certain satisfaction --a "thusness"-- to that turn of events.
How many "worthy" villains are the authors of their own destruction?
Also, the speculative romance author might consider whether or not it is essential to the happy ending that the villain dies. Sometimes, imprisonment or disgrace, or impotence (in the sense of loss of whatever power and influence he/she had) might be enough for the hero and heroine to live happily ever after, and for the world to be saved.
And, if the hero/heroine/sidekick refrain from killing the villain, they retain the moral high ground. That is something to consider when an author decides the fate of a really complicated villain.
;-)
Rowena
It might be an exaggeration to say that I live for Happy Ever After, but I often read the last pages of a book before I buy it, to make sure I'm not going to invest my time, money and emotions and be deprived of my happy ending!
But what about the villain?
I deliberately choose to call him (or her) the "villain" rather than the "antagonist" for the purposes of this discussion. One has to be more than a major difficulty to justify being killed off in a romance, don't you think?
Some villains are too interesting to dispose of. One might want them for the sequel!
There is also the ticklish problem of who will kill the villain, if the plot calls for the villain to die.
Can the heroine remain a romantic heroine if she kills the villain? Is it acceptable if she kills the villain by accident, or in self-defense, or in defense of the hero or some other vulnerable character?
Princess Leia strangled Jabba The Hutt. That was cool.
Eowen killed the undead Ringwraith King. That was cooler.
Ditto for the hero. There's not so much of a double standard about a hero's activities. He's usually a knight or high-ranking professional warrior.
Nevertheless...
Luke didn't.
Aragorn didn't.
Bond has a license (not that he's sfr) but seldom kills the arch villain directly.
Is it a cop out if the villain is simply hoist by his own petard (which literally means blown up by his own bomb)? There is a certain satisfaction --a "thusness"-- to that turn of events.
How many "worthy" villains are the authors of their own destruction?
Also, the speculative romance author might consider whether or not it is essential to the happy ending that the villain dies. Sometimes, imprisonment or disgrace, or impotence (in the sense of loss of whatever power and influence he/she had) might be enough for the hero and heroine to live happily ever after, and for the world to be saved.
And, if the hero/heroine/sidekick refrain from killing the villain, they retain the moral high ground. That is something to consider when an author decides the fate of a really complicated villain.
;-)
Rowena
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Insufficient Mating Material... Excerpt
I encourage anyone thinking of buying one of my books to read a free sample chapter from my website or barnes and noble.com, or just stand in the romance aisle of your favorite local bookstore and check out a few pages.
These might be some good pages to scope out for a fair idea of whether or not this book is your cup of tea.
Royal wedding: page 33
Sexually frustrated swearing: page 199
A fish bit my ... : page 244
Battle scene: page 253
Cover scene : page 264
Grievous explains "the trots" to an alien: page 273
Here is a short excerpt with genuine survival advice.
------
In this scene, the hero, Djetth (pronounced Jeth) and the squeamish fashionista Princess Martia-Djulia (Marsha-Julia) are marooned on a Costa-Rica-like island. They have been shot down, landed in the sea, and Martia's elaborate gown is wet, and she will not remove it.
She is embarrassed about the corset she wears underneath her preposterous Court dress. She doesn't know that Djetth has already seen her corset and more, before his plastic surgery, when he had a wild one-night-stand with her.
Djetth has decided that their first priority should be to get a fire going.
-----
"There are a lot of things we could do without for one night." Dinner came to mind. Sex… Djetth grunted and rose to his feet.
The most natural thing in the world would have been to hook an arm around Martia-Djulia's tightly cinched waist, and point to the campsite he'd chosen. Instead, he put his left hand on his hip and pointed with his right hand.
"You see that little stand of trees -- the ones with twisted trunks, which fork into three or four branches at about the height of my hip? Those two, there, will make good supports for the entrance to a shelter. I'll thrust a long, straight branch between their crotches as a ridgepole."
She looked doubtful, but Djetth was on good ground with his woodmanship.
"A 'crotch' is where a tree bifurcates," he explained, simply so she'd think about crotches, and long, straight objects being thrust into them. "They're a good choice because their canopies lean inland, away from what becomes the obvious spot to clear for a fire pit. Do you agree?"
He took her silence for consent.
"Right. I'll start by digging the fire pit. Do you think you could find something we can burn? There are three types of fuel needed for a fire. Tinder is the most important."
Chivalrously, he assigned the greatest importance to the easiest, lightest, most enjoyable, most feminine task.
"I can't start a fire without tinder," he added with strategic disregard for the fact that he was a Great Djinn in possession of three Rings of Imperial Authority, one of which was the laser-like Fire Stone.
"What is tinder?" she asked, sounding suspicious.
"Ahhhh," he drawled, overcome by a mischievous instinct. "Look here."
With his left hand he lifted his T-shirt, with his right forefinger and thumb he reached into his navel, confident that after eight weeks of hard exercise he had well defined abs and a very deep and attractive "inny" of a tummy button.
He withdrew lint.
"Oh, slurrid!" his squeamish Princess exclaimed, predictably, but she stared at his lower abdomen and perhaps at the bulge in his trunk briefs with flattering interest.
"This fluff--" He placed it in the palm of his left hand as reverently as a scientist explaining an important specimen, "is created from the action of hard work. Friction attracts filaments of fabric from my cotton T-shirt, and works them into a flat, fluffy mat."
He moved his cupped hand closer to her.
"Good tinder needs to have irregular edges, plenty of airspaces." He teased his tummy button fluff into a looser wad. "It must be dry. Would you like to touch it?"
----
Best wishes,
Rowena Cherry
PS
Some readers might be interested to recall that in one episode of Survivorman, Les Stroud plucked lint from his socks to use as tinder to start a fire. When I saw Les do that, I sensed that he and I shared a sense of humor, and that he would be the perfect "survival details" expert for Insufficient Mating Material.
Another tip... besides surprising things that are flammable, is that it is better to be naked and dry rather than clothed and wet.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Insufficient Mating Material --survivorman with sex... food allergies, assassins
When a Royal shotgun wedding goes wrong,
When the bride blasts the reluctant groom onto his butt...
What's a god-Prince to do?
Maroon the politically embarrassing couple in a secret location?
Shower them often with rain laced with aphrodisiacs?
Keep them wild and wet until they come together!
But what if they are not alone on their island?
What if someone very powerful is determined to kill them?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
