Torquere Press is pleased to announce a new Single Shot line beginning in 2006 -- Birthstones.
Birthstones will be a sexy, sensual homoerotic series with a birthstone theme completely and solely interpreted by the author (i.e. Using the stone itself, the color of the stone, the mystical meaning of the stone, the area the stone is mined, use your imagination). I'm looking for unique takes on the theme, on interesting characters, hot sex, and attention to relationship.
Guidelines:
- Homoerotica, please. Heterosexual stories will not be considered- 10,000-15,000 words- a flat fee of $28US upon publication- exclusive electronic 2 year contract (your print rights are your own)
The available stones/months are:
January/Garnet -- deadline October 1, 2005February/Amethyst -- deadline November 1, 2005March/Aquamarine -- deadline December 1, 2005May/Emerald -- deadline February 1, 2006June/Pearls -- deadline March 1, 2006
Please email questions and submissions to:submissions@torquerepress.com with Birthstones in the title.
SA ClementsSingle Shots EditorTorquere Presswww.torquerepress.com/
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Yeehaw
Rode Hard and Put Away Wet is finally available from Suspect Thoughts! http://www.suspectthoughtspress.com/pressrode.htm
I have a short story in it, titled Sweethearts of the Rodeo, about a pair of rodeo princess candiates. Nice and smutty and hopefully fairly authentic cowgirl ;) (The editors thoguht so).
I eagerly await my trib copies. (Someday I'll write about how long it took me to connect trib with its word origin. Duh) Go buy it :D Right now it's 12.00 on the website, as opposed to 16.95. :D
I have a short story in it, titled Sweethearts of the Rodeo, about a pair of rodeo princess candiates. Nice and smutty and hopefully fairly authentic cowgirl ;) (The editors thoguht so).
I eagerly await my trib copies. (Someday I'll write about how long it took me to connect trib with its word origin. Duh) Go buy it :D Right now it's 12.00 on the website, as opposed to 16.95. :D
Friday, July 22, 2005
Close
Getting close to getting Peacock done. Oh yes I am. Then editing, book reviews and other various deadlines... ack
Friday, July 15, 2005
Trying to sort out
I have so many ideas. So many snippets of stories. I have a deadline to meet right now, and I'm pretty confident I will, but from there I'm not sure where to go.
I would love to get out from under the day job. So I have to decide if I want to concentrate on getting more pub creds or doing longer stories that will start to really bring in royalties...
I'm not a good decision maker. I fret and fuss.
But something is bound to break soon, so I need a *plan* darn it.
I would love to get out from under the day job. So I have to decide if I want to concentrate on getting more pub creds or doing longer stories that will start to really bring in royalties...
I'm not a good decision maker. I fret and fuss.
But something is bound to break soon, so I need a *plan* darn it.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Hats and other oddities
My new straw cowboy hat looked better on my neice than it does on me...
I won Best Original Content in the Logical Lust Flash Fiction contest. No link yet, as they just notified. They said it will be up at the end of the month. Go me/ Not bad for 250 words.
I won Best Original Content in the Logical Lust Flash Fiction contest. No link yet, as they just notified. They said it will be up at the end of the month. Go me/ Not bad for 250 words.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
from the ERWA Blog circle
an Excerpt from Ally Blue
Title: Forgotten Song Genre:
Contemporary, Non-traditional sexualities
Author: Ally Blue
Author URL: http://www.allyblue.com/
Release date: "soon"
Publisher: Loose Id Publisher URL: http://www.loose-id.com/
The sun was in my eyes when I woke the next morning. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to remember why the hell I was on the floor. Then I heard the toilet flush, and everything came back. I sat up just as the bathroom door opened.
“Hi,” I said as Eric shuffled back to the bed and plopped down. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Little bit of a headache, but it’s not too bad. I look like I got hit by a train though.”
I grinned. He did look banged up. A big, ugly black and purple bruise spread from under the bandage on the left side of his forehead to cover part of his cheek, and his eye was swollen. The blood on the bandage had dried to a deep reddish brown.
“That is a nasty bruise, isn’t it? But at least the cut’s stopped bleeding.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Hey, Ben, would it be okay if I use your shower?”
“Oh, sure, there’s clean towels in there on the shelf.”
“Thanks.” He stood and stretched and my brain promptly stopped working. Jesus, his body was perfect. Okay, nearly perfect. I got a better look at the scars this time, and my mouth went dry. A long, thin pink line, obviously from some kind of surgery, started just under his ribs and ran down the middle of his abdomen until it disappeared under the edge of his underwear. Several small round scars dotted his belly, and one larger than the rest puckered the skin on one side of his ribcage. But the one that caught the eye cut a long, wide, jagged path halfway across his stomach. I couldn’t even imagine what could’ve made a scar like that, or the amount of pain that must’ve gone with it.
“Did you get a good enough look?” Eric’s voice dripped with anger, and I realized I was staring.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. Not too pretty, are they?” I looked up at his face and caught a glimpse of a hurt so deep that it made me ache to see it. Then the tough-guy mask was back in place and the pain was gone like it had never been there. I knew what I’d seen, though, and I swore to myself right then to help him heal whatever wounds he still had.
Title: Forgotten Song Genre:
Contemporary, Non-traditional sexualities
Author: Ally Blue
Author URL: http://www.allyblue.com/
Release date: "soon"
Publisher: Loose Id Publisher URL: http://www.loose-id.com/
The sun was in my eyes when I woke the next morning. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to remember why the hell I was on the floor. Then I heard the toilet flush, and everything came back. I sat up just as the bathroom door opened.
“Hi,” I said as Eric shuffled back to the bed and plopped down. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Little bit of a headache, but it’s not too bad. I look like I got hit by a train though.”
I grinned. He did look banged up. A big, ugly black and purple bruise spread from under the bandage on the left side of his forehead to cover part of his cheek, and his eye was swollen. The blood on the bandage had dried to a deep reddish brown.
“That is a nasty bruise, isn’t it? But at least the cut’s stopped bleeding.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Hey, Ben, would it be okay if I use your shower?”
“Oh, sure, there’s clean towels in there on the shelf.”
“Thanks.” He stood and stretched and my brain promptly stopped working. Jesus, his body was perfect. Okay, nearly perfect. I got a better look at the scars this time, and my mouth went dry. A long, thin pink line, obviously from some kind of surgery, started just under his ribs and ran down the middle of his abdomen until it disappeared under the edge of his underwear. Several small round scars dotted his belly, and one larger than the rest puckered the skin on one side of his ribcage. But the one that caught the eye cut a long, wide, jagged path halfway across his stomach. I couldn’t even imagine what could’ve made a scar like that, or the amount of pain that must’ve gone with it.
“Did you get a good enough look?” Eric’s voice dripped with anger, and I realized I was staring.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. Not too pretty, are they?” I looked up at his face and caught a glimpse of a hurt so deep that it made me ache to see it. Then the tough-guy mask was back in place and the pain was gone like it had never been there. I knew what I’d seen, though, and I swore to myself right then to help him heal whatever wounds he still had.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
up on the soapbox once more - an editorial
I work in a library. Bear with me, I can see your eyes glazing over, but there is a point here.
I am not a librarian. I have not earned the right to call myself that by going to grad school and having my brain replaced with that of an alien. I am what they (and by they I do mean the librarians, no offense to any present) call a "para"professional. Meaning since I did not go and learn how to catalog my fabric scraps I am not a professional at my job, even though not one "professional" librarian in my library can check out a book. Yay for double standards.
What does this have to do with writing? Specifically with writing erotic romance and erotica?
The same double standard applies. If you like sex, you'e somehow less literary. If your erotic (note...erotic) books have a lot of racy, raunchy scenes, you're less than acceptable in polite company, you don't rate a review on the big dogs' sites, and other people who purport to be erotica writers call your work less than complimentary things. (Like oh, trash, wretched, too light on plot, despite the fact that your test readers found it angsty enough to *cry* over it.)
So what is it? Is it latent puritanism? Is it just that some people should be writing traditional romance rather than erotica, but have found that the addition of gay love pushes them out of that market? Or do I have a fundamental misunderstanding of erotic?
No, not all of my favorite erotic readings are explicit. But I don't see why expicitness, as long as it's well done, can't be literate.
I am not a librarian. I have not earned the right to call myself that by going to grad school and having my brain replaced with that of an alien. I am what they (and by they I do mean the librarians, no offense to any present) call a "para"professional. Meaning since I did not go and learn how to catalog my fabric scraps I am not a professional at my job, even though not one "professional" librarian in my library can check out a book. Yay for double standards.
What does this have to do with writing? Specifically with writing erotic romance and erotica?
The same double standard applies. If you like sex, you'e somehow less literary. If your erotic (note...erotic) books have a lot of racy, raunchy scenes, you're less than acceptable in polite company, you don't rate a review on the big dogs' sites, and other people who purport to be erotica writers call your work less than complimentary things. (Like oh, trash, wretched, too light on plot, despite the fact that your test readers found it angsty enough to *cry* over it.)
So what is it? Is it latent puritanism? Is it just that some people should be writing traditional romance rather than erotica, but have found that the addition of gay love pushes them out of that market? Or do I have a fundamental misunderstanding of erotic?
No, not all of my favorite erotic readings are explicit. But I don't see why expicitness, as long as it's well done, can't be literate.
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