Thursday, November 29, 2012

Body distortions and other misfortunes of a writer.

How can you tell just by looking at someone  that they are a writer? Do they appear a bit frenzied and anxious? Well, let me start by saying that I write in excess of 40,000 words a month--every month. If I don't get my word count in I'm like a rabid dog ready to attack, slobber and red eyes and all that you can imagine. I call it my legal addiction. Once I published one book, I had to have my fix by adding more and more. I guess you could say I'm in competition--with myself.

So, what body distortions and misfortunes am I referring to? Here is a list:

1. Fat Fingers. I've been pounding away at the keyboard for many years. That's a lot of work on my digits. Over this amount of time, my fingers have gone from slender to wide, and truth be told, a little crooked. I can only imagine what they're going to look like in another twenty years. Eck !!! I think it may be a good time to look into purchasing Dragon--even with all of its flaws.

2. Cross-eyes. The other day I was busily absorbed in my characters and working the fifth hour at my latest work when my wee one pops into the room to ask a question. I look up and I literally see three of her. "You look funny, mommy," she said with a giggle. Needless to say, this wasn't the first time I've felt like I've been kicked in the head by a horse and my vision was screwed. No worries, it was only temporary. I was back to normal...eventually.

3. Hunchback. There is a mantra in my head: Sit up straight. Sit up straight. Sit up straight. This lasts until steamy sex or a killing scene takes precedence and I pour my body over over my laptop like melted butter on bread. I don't realize it until I stand up and I can't straighten my back. I'm walking cockeyed and bouncing off the walls. I have the bruises to prove it. It's quite hilarious.

4. Numb ass. If you Google this slang term, you will get some savory definitions, like a numb ass from anal sex. Or, cocaine placed inside the rectum. Nope, that's not a writer's numb ass. You know that tingly feeling that warns you that your ass is falling asleep? Yep, I totally ignore that sign. When sensation finally starts to come back, well, that's a true pain in the ass.

5. Sex tongue. Grab your thoughts right out of the naughty bin. This isn't about action, but how easily erotic romance writers discuss sex. I haven't reached vulgar proportions yet, and I certainly mind my manners around my parents, but it is what it is. After all, sex parts were created for what? Exactly, SEX. Lovemaking is a beautiful thing. Trying new things and exploring one another can help keep a relationship healthy. Just because I write it and talk it, doesn't mean I'm a reincarnated Cleopatra. Sex talk does have it's boundaries though. I receive messages daily on FB asking me to "help" them write a sex scene. I get paid to write people. Any word I type is worth at least a dollar. The message for today asked, "I am trying to write a threesome sex scene. Can I ask for your assistance in this matter?" First, I don't write threesome sex scenes. No reason besides I just never wanted to. Second, I helped him right away with the BLOCK  button. FB will eventually have a creepers button.

If you're interested in reading what I write, here's a great story...

Dreaming Ivy

by Rhonda Lee Carver

Spotlight story:

Can a past love become their future?

The Thorntons’ mansion is full of timeless secrets waiting to be unraveled. When small-town journalist Ivy and ghost hunter Max are stuck in the forgotten, dilapidated house, they find more than just a haunting. Ivy finds herself dreaming of the former owners, Marcus Thornton and his lovely wife, Elizabeth. Their profound love was once the talk of the town, and the cause their mysterious, untimely deaths never found. When Ivy’s dreams begin to become reality, the mystery starts to unravel and sheds truth on more than just the past.
WARNING: Graphic language, naughty ghosts, a non-committal male, and a love that endures beyond time and death.


Copyright 2012, Rhonda Lee Carver
All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc.

Ivy stepped into the corridor. She stopped and listened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow sweep across the wall. She turned as it disappeared. “Hello?” No answer. She stomped down the hall and burst into the room. “Hello–”
The room was empty.Ivy swallowed the taste of fright. A shiver raced across her skin. She had seen someone, or had she? She rubbed her eyes. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on her.
A loud crack in the floor behind her sent Ivy twisting. The sun from the window blinded her. She acted on impulse. She drew her fist back and punched–landing on something solid. The force behind her connection with skin and bone sent her off balance, flailing backward. A hand on her wrist pulled her hard against a steely frame.
She met a dark stare, just as she felt wobbling. The impact of her body had sent him a step back. He lost his balance. Together they fell. The air whooshed from his chest as Ivy landed on top of the stranger.
She closed her eyes and remained still. She wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her. Several long seconds floated by. Neither of them said a word. She finally opened her eyes.
Embarrassed and confused, Ivy laid her palms against his shoulders, pushing herself up. She looked directly into his not-so-pleased expression and gulped. Enchanting green eyes, prominent cheekbones, midnight hair…and a pissed-off set to his jaw. She’d made a mistake–a huge one. “Max Shepard.” It wasn’t a question.
He narrowed his eyes. “Ivy Kennedy, journalist and amateur boxer?”
The deep, rich tone of his voice did funny things to the pit of her stomach. His voice wasn’t the only toned part of him. Pressed together gave her an up close and personal testimonial of his physical assets. Broad chest, tight abs to long legs, she could feel tight muscles and a curious bulge. She scooted her hip around the swelling in his jeans. Heat and realization spread through her body.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s my cell.” Could he see straight through her?
He reached into his pocket and held up his phone. Ivy was certain her skin changed into the perfect color of mortification. She wondered just how bad this could get. Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Nice to meet you.” The temperature rose between them into the triple digits. Their bodies seemed to melt together. He didn’t look like the pictures she’d seen on the internet. He looked more distinguished in person. “You’re older than I thought,” she blurted.
“Older, in a good way.” She licked her bottom lip and nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. “My mother said I have a bad habit of saying the most awkward things and rambling–” She swallowed. “–like I am now.” She moved slightly.
His zipper started to swell again. Was that another cell phone in his pocket, or… Before her mind could complete the thought, he wrapped his large hands around her waist and lifted her off him. He set her on her feet as he came to stand in front of her. “That’s better,” he said as he backed up. “Damn.” He kicked rug that must have been the reason behind their fall.
He stood there, silent. This was a complete disaster. She’d managed to give him a black eye to match the dark scowl on his face. She needed to start searching for a new job. Marshall would have her head for this.

WARNING: Light BDSM, kink, explicit sex.
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