When does sex become sex?

So, it’s noon and I’ve yet to come up with anything interesting to blog about today.  I had such good intentions, but unfortunately my creativity just isn’t cooperating.  Story of my life lately. LOL

But for the sake of babbling about something, I’m going to pose a pretty basic question that’s been rolling around in my head the past few days, after finishing yet another book whose author looks at “sex” differently than I do.  I’ll explain…

In this particular book, the hero and heroine engage in a heated moment that leads to him going down on her.  (I have to interject here that she’d never come before with a man and she did with the second flick of his tongue after what seemed like about five minutes of foreplay.  PUH-lease.  Like I believed that.  But anyway…)  Later on, the two meet up with the hero’s daughter and the heroine is nervous to face the girl now that she’s “had sex” with her father.

Okay (grrrrr…).  To me, this couple most certainly did not have sex.  “Sex” to me is the actual Tab A inserted (hopefully more creatively than that ) into Slot B.  Obviously oral is a very intimate event as well, sometimes even more intimate than actual intercourse.  I get that some people might call it “making love” even, because of that intimacy.

But it still grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard that people don’t differentiate between sex (the tab and slot kind) and messing around (the lingual and digital kind LOL) like I do.  I know…I’m anal as hell.  But it’s a pet peeve I can’t seem to get past.  Sorry.

So, now I ask…what constitutes “sex” to you?  Do you agree with the author and heroine?

(As I’m sitting here, it’s just dawned on me that I haven’t thought of this beyond a hetero relationship and that, depending on one’s sexual orientation, oral could definitely constitute “sex”.  So bear with my closed-mindedness, if you will, and realize my issue is with M/F relationships.  Thanks…)

Happy Monday…

~Ally

first love and the first time

Jennifer LeBrecque at The Soapbox Queens blogged about meeting her husband a couple of days ago and, of course, it got me thinking about how my husband and I met.  Unfortunately, it’s not a very exciting story.  We met at a bar and he tried to pick me up.  I was seeing someone and, as arrogant men often do, my now hubby tried to persuade me that I’d be better off with him, blah, blah, blah.  I was soo not impressed.  Yet, three weeks and a broken heart later, I called him and the rest is history.  I’ll spare you the sordid details–honestly, it wasn’t pretty– and just get to what I’m actually going to talk about today.

First loves.

We all have one.  Or at least I hope we all do.  If it wasn’t “love”, we probably at least have someone in our pasts that touched us somehow.  So much so that years later we remember all the sordid details–hopefully bad ones in a good way, if you know what I mean–like it just happened yesterday.

I have two first loves.  I say that because I’m not really sure that I loved number one, but he was definitely a big part of my life and, since he oh so cleverly weaseled his way into my shorts and pink butterfly panties at an age I’m way to embarrassed to share, I pretty much have to include him in my trip down memory lane. 

His name was John and we lived only a few miles apart by highway, even less by the dirt backroad that ran through the woods behind my house.  On this dirt road was a cabin that no one ever seemed to visit.  In the front yard of that cabin was a detached, screened porch-like building with a swing and whatnot.  That little building was never locked.  And neither were my legs.  I gave it up on the floor next to the swing like a shaky, on-the-wagon alcoholic at a keg party.  Of course, it sucked and I ended it before it even really started, but I was ruined nonetheless.

Two years later, I met my true first love.  The one whose name still gives me butterflies to this day, some 15 years laters (don’t do the math if you know how old I am…you’ll never think of me the same LOL).  His name was Jason, he was two years older, from the “wrong side of the tracks”, and he wanted me bad.  Unfortunately, I was too young and too smitten to think to play hard to get or anything (obviously, given the whole porch floor incident).  We passed notes via friends (you know, the ones folded and tucked like triangles?) and eventually we were a hot item.  He lived only a few blocks from our school, so naturally, in between school and games, I started to hang out at his place and, needless to say, “things” happened only a few weeks into our relationship.  We had to bide our time, right? :)  We ended up dating for almost three years.  Around two and a half years, the summer before his senior year, he joined the National Guard and left for basic training.  Despite nearly daily letters and weekly phone calls, I eventually grew bored and started seeing someone else.  Jason came home heartbroken and despite our efforts to fix what I broke, we didn’t last and he ended up cheating on me with his now wife.  Talk about getting what you deserve, right?

You’d think the story would have ended there, but, haha, not even close.  Since the point of this post is first love and the first time, I’ll summarize the following two years by saying that Jason and I had a hard time keeping away from each other and often used each other when we were either between relationships (me) or fighting with our other half (him).  Two weeks before my family moved (a month before I left for college), he started calling again and even showing up at my house after his second shift job.  But I couldn’t be the “other woman” anymore, so, after a lot of tears and hours of talking, we finally called it quits for good.  (A month later, his girlfriend was pregnant, so my guess is, he got from her what he didn’t from me LOL)

So, now that I’ve given you way more information about my life than I’m sure you ever wanted to know, why don’t you share the scoop on your first love and/or your first time.  Don’t pretend that my story hasn’t gotten you thinking about him (or her) and don’t pretend you don’t love rehashing it.

Happy weekend…

Ally

new name, same face

So, I’ve started yet another story.  I think this might be around the fifth in the past few months, but, hey, I’ve gotta get it right one of these time, don’t I? :)  Anyhow, I’ve noticed something–okay, not really a new development…I’ve known for awhile that I do this–and I’m wondering if it’s just me or if this is a trap other writers fall into as well.

Here’s my deal: 

All of my heroine’s look essentially like this woman…

In my head, they are always a variation similar to the above model and this new story is no exception.  Now, my best guess as to why I do this is because, well, I personally would love to look like this smokin’ hot.  Love the hair, the perfect skin, the nice rack…  Who wouldn’t want to look like her, right?

I also love short hair.  And redheads.  And ponytails.  Yet, I never write heroines with those traits or styles.  It seems I’m stuck in long, curly haired brunette rut and it simply befuddles me. :)  To be honest, my hero’s look basically the same, too.  I switch up hair style and eye color every now and then, but for the most part, all of of my men are over dark haired, built, and over six foot.  Ehem…can we say cliche?

So, am I the only one who does this?  Or do images of all sorts of shapes, sizes, and hair colors come to mind when you get new story ideas?  Share, share, share!! 

Happy Monday…

Ally

Is it possible…

For non-writers to ever really understand what it’s like and what it takes to be a writer?

I’ve done my fair share of griping about my sometimes supportive, sometimes not supportive husband ever since I joined the world of blogging and online writerdom about a year ago.  I’m sad to say that some twelve months later (remember that this is just since “coming out” publicly as a writer), things have not changed. 

I’ll spare you the details, because if you’ve heard me complain once, you’ve heard my complain a thousand times–it’s always the same.  He just doesn’t “get it”.  Granted he’s got a lot going on right now and he usually apologizes for being so ridiculous, but, by that point, he’s already expressed his disapproval and skepticism and there’s not wiping that from my memory.  Especially when he argues the same argument everytime the issue comes up.  It’s kind of hard not to realize that, while he may “seem” supportive when we’re not arguing, deep down he is not.

What the hell can I do about that?  Sell, right?  Make some money?  I see that…I really do.  But, maybe I’m just making excuses here, it’s a bit difficult to put my all into a project when I can’t even get a couple of hours of peace and quiet a week, let alone on a daily basis.  He thinks magic is supposed to just *poof* happen.  He honestly hasn’t a clue about ups and downs and muse and no muse and all that.  We writers have to keep trying to produce the next great American novel (or whatever it is you’re writing), whether or not our mojo is flowing.  I’ve even went so far as attempting to equate writing with his love of hunting:  Just because he doesn’t get big buck one year, he tries again the next year and the next and the next.  But I just got the blank stare on that one.  Grrr…

For the most part, I ignore my husband and his eye-rolling family, because I know (from the support of my online writer friends) that I am not the only one who feels the way I do about writing–I am not a freak.  Despite my low points lately, I still love it.  Like Dolly & Whitney, I will always love it.  I don’t expect my DH or my family to love it, too, but I do expect them to regard my writing like they regard their hobbies (and, yes, I cringe to downgrade my writing to a hobby, but I’d be happy if I could get at least that much understanding out of them).

I don’t think I’m asking for too much, am I?

~Ally

*squee*

So, I’m hijacking the fun, collaborative Friday post to do a casual one of my own since I skipped out was lucky enough to have Monday off because of Memorial Day. I know you missed me, right? LOL

Anyhow, the hubster and I have been making big remodeling plans for next spring (when we hopefully have some $$). Of course, I’m excited about everything we want to do, but I’m damn near ecstatic that the renovations include…finally…an office for me! Yay! Woohoo!

Okay, so admittedly, the space isn’t going to be huge–it’s actually going to be half of what is now my front porch (the other half will be used to extend the boys bedroom, which will then become the master). I can’t find a measuring tape anywhere, but I’ll give an eyeball guess that my new “spot” will be about 10′ x 9′, which is like way huge compared to the roughly 5′ x 4′ spaces I’ve been hopping back and forth from in the house over the past year (the living room, the bedroom, the living room again).

Anyhow, while it may be dinky, it’ll be ALL MY OWN. My own little piece of heaven. I’d love it to look like this…     I’d even be really happy with this…   But, reality check here, it’ll probably look something like this… Clean (haha), simple and spacious–I need a big desk for all of my “research” material. And forget those abstract pics behind the desk–mine will most likely be buff, half naked men. And the walls will likely be bordello red with heavy red curtains on my window. And since my space will be the former front porch, the insurance company wouldn’t be too happy if we didn’t keep the front door (you know, in case one of my smelly man candles gets out of hand), so I’ll probably paint the inside of that a sexy, crimson red, as well. *squee*

You have no idea how excited I am. Yes, this project is an entire year away, but I’ve waited for what seems like forever already (we were supposed to do it this year in another part of the house, but that’s another long story)–I can wait a little more.

I wanted to close this post with a link to a site someone hooked me up with last year, showing a mess (sometimes literally) of author desks and offices, most of the pretty well-known. It was fun to see where others make the magic happen. Alas, I cannot find the damn site for the life of me. This one is an “eh” substitute. Scroll down to the comment section for a few links to famous authors’ desks. ROFL. At least my desk now doesn’t look quite so tornadous (just pretend that’s a real word, ‘kay? ) as Jennifer Crusie’s.

 

Happy Weekend, y’all!
~Ally

What do you get when…

You have Ally…

 

 

 

Plus…

 

 

 

Minus…

 

 

 

???????

This!

 

 

 

Grrrrrr.  The fam and I are camping for four–count ‘em…one, two, three, four–days this upcoming weekend and I am not looking forward to it.  I mean, I love my kids and my DH (for the most part), but what in the hell am I going to do without my computer for FOUR days?  Sure, I can write on paper–I sometimes even like to write on paper–but when I’m forced todo it?  Not a good situation.

To think it’s only Monday and I’m already getting prickly about it.  Can’t even imagine what a bear I’ll be come Friday when we leave.  I so should have gotten a laptop instead of a new PC. :(  Pout.

Do me a favor and pray for rain in Wisconsin this weekend, okay?

ack!

I completely spaced out blogging today!  And, at this very moment, I’m up to my eyeballs in making dinner.  So, for the sake of posting something…and because I know we all love a little man-candy…here’s a little beginning of the week inspiration.  May he make your writing prolific. :)  Smooches…

monday morning rant

Consider yourself warned:  Today’s post is a rant. :( 

One of the first things newbie writers or writer wannabes do when they start out is buy, read, and research hordes of books by the bestselling authors in the genre they want to write, is it not?  We all want to learn from the best, right?  Something new writers don’t realize is that it’s generally advised to read those authors’ first books, not their newest.  Authors are usually given a little more leeway the more experiences/established they become, sometimes justifiably–they can better finagle the tricky spots–and sometimes not–sloppy editing on the assumption the writer know what he or she is doing.  That’s my gripe today.

I’m reading a category romance right now in a line that’s recently went through some changes.  I always liked the line before and, while I’m not ecstatic about the changes, it’s still a decent read and I think I might actually be able to write this.  If the book I’m reading right now is any indication, I can definitely write this.  I’ve caught more “telling” in this book than anything I’ve read in a long time (my stuff aside) and I’ve gotten hung up more than a dozen times on sentences like (and my examples are not from the story, BTW, to protect my own hide, but are close representations), “As realization hit Margie, she dropped to a chair, as she wrung her hands.”  WTH?

I bought this book and another to familiarize myself with the changes in the line and to get a better idea of what the editors are looking for.  I chose two bestselling authors, this book being by a name I’m sure most writers have at least heard in passing.  Let me interject that this is obviously not a first work of the author…my bad.  Anyhow, the ”telling” and sentence issues aren’t even the half of it, though.  I’ve found lots of little things, like the heroine constantly noticing the same thing about the hero over and over again (like how tanned his skin looks in contrast to his white shirts) and the repetitive use of the same, overexaggerated dialogue tags, when “said” would do just fine.

To me, the books seems more like a rough draft.  Of course, it does have some good parts, but I wouldn’t be blogging about it if it didn’t also have enough crap for me to stop and really take notice.  Obviously, being a writer, I read with a more critical eye that the average reader, but I can promise my sister-in-law, who shares my books, will notice the same things because they are so glaringly obvious.

I am no authority by any means, but this kind of stuff frustrates me to know end.  Namely because I don’t think that the editor, who probably only skimmed the story over because of who wrote it, did the author any justice.  I have never read this author before and probably won’t again now as reader, let alone a writer–unless, of course, I want to sharpen my editing skills.

What’s your take on established authors having more leeway?  Do you think it’s fair?  I do to a point–they’ve earned it–but at what point does it become a disservice?

Happy Monday!

~Ally  

So I’m Slacking

Or is that lacking? Maybe it’s both. This blog should have been written last night. That obviously didn’t happen. Truth be told, my brain is feeling a little fried as of late. Too much trying to crowd its way in I guess, not to mention the amount of info I am trying to squeeze out I guess.

Those of you who know me will even be shocked to hear that my daydreaming of hunky hot men has even suffered. (Pause for stunned silence) I know. I mean I really KNOW! No amount of beer, Schmirnoff, or decadent desserts has been able to pry me from the clutches of whatever unknown affliction that has managed to take hold of me.

I am desperate. I need help. Call in the men in white lab coats, (the better looking the more likely I am to co-operate). Even though the writing and editing seem to be going well, and my dedicated CP has been keeping me accountable, I am just not feeling it. So, instead of a wonderful blog that I had intended to write, I am sitting rambling. To try to save myself from completely embarrassing myself, I have decided to find something that always picks me up.

 

~MJ

 

They Did It Where?!?!

Ok, don’t ask me why this idea popped into my head, but I just began to wonder what some of the odd places that writers may have their charactrers get down and dirty. Sure there are the old stand-by’s like the car, kitchen floor, but those aren’t really odd now are they?

My sex scenes have been written in very typical places like the bedroom and the shower. Now I know that is not a bad thing, but when your characters want to change it up a bit, isn’t it our duty to oblige? If you were to type in “odd places to have sex”, your search would undoubtedly return some pretty interesting things. One site suggested on top an exercise ball, a hammock, on top of a running washing machine, and in a dressing room.  

Interesting choices as those are, I think there are probably far more intersting palces that you have either read or written yourselves. So when you tire of writing the same old bedroom sex scenes, where does you mind venture to? I know many of you are very creative and can probably give me some places that no man had boldly gone before. Come on, give it up….  

MJ