WRITING

Writing is a compulsion I’ve tried to stifle all my life because it consumes me totally. When I’m writing I forget time, place and other people – thankfully I have no dependents. I sometimes crave a sunny, uninhabited island where I could be alone with my thoughts and a solar-powered laptop. But I would probably go quietly insane or develop a severe case of RSI as my thoughts come faster than I can type when I give them free reign. I would be like a woman possessed trying to capture them all before they slipped away.

I yearn for the day when I have earned enough royalties to safely give up my day job, but I fear it equally. With nothing to stop me daydreaming I might lose touch with reality and become a part of my creations if I’m not constantly pulled back into reality by other obligations.

But I have taken several mini career breaks in the last seven years and they have been more glorious than anything I could have imagined. To have a chance to write freely without thinking of getting up for work the next day was sublime. I would love to take another breakright now, but it would defeat my long-term plans. I’m trying hard to be disciplined, to be patient and wait until the time is right, but it’s so hard!

COMBINED BEDTIME EROTICA?

I’ve been toying with the idea of combining all three books in the Bedtime Erotica series into a massive Kindle book titled The Bedtime Erotica Trilogy.

Or, selecting my favourite stories from the three collections (a tough choice because they are my babies and I love them all) and compiling them into one volume titled The Best of Bedtime Erotica. Singers do this all the time, why not writers?

Or perhaps even re-editing all the stories and publishing cleaner versions of the books for Kindle, if not in paperback. I wrote these stories five years ago when I was new to writing erotica and thought the more graphic the sex, the better. I’m older and wiser now and though I still love the stories and re-read them often (I hope I’m not the only writer who does this!) I can see that perhaps a more subtle approach could be applied. It’s a tough decision because many of my fans love the books just the way they are and I still laugh my head off at the funny parts and get turned on by the sex scenes. But as I edit the second of my eight romance manuscripts, I’m beginning to see ways of enhancing my erotica.

Of course, any reader purchasing a book with a title Bedtime Erotica for Freaks (like me) will not necessarily be expecting subtlety! So I’m caught on the horns of a dilemma: do I leave well alone or do I fix what doesn’t appear to be broken?

SHEMALE - CAMILLA DE CASTRO

Years ago I watched a short, free movie which featured the late shemale, Camilla De Castro and found it very erotic. I'm seldom aroused by porn, but she and her male partner made love to each other in the most sensual way.  It's such a shame that she was driven to suicide at such a young age, she must be sadly missed. She was indeed a 'goddess' and must have been quite a temptation for straight guys.

I'm writing a series Jo, Shemale Goddess! which is inspired by Camilla.  Read the first two The Last Reunion & The Virgin on my website.

Click here to see the movie. I had to change the link because the movie was deleted from xHamster.  This version isn't as good, but still well worth watching.

You may also like my Kindle short story, Naughty Professor.  Buy it on Amazon UK for £0.71 or US for $1.14, both prices include VAT.

KINDLE SALES

I seem to be reaching more readers now that I've published my books on Kindle.  I'm not sure if it's an indication that Kindle is being used more widely than I'd imagined, or if readers are simply more willing to buy an eBook for $2.99 rather than a paperback for $9.99.

In terms of royalties there is not a huge difference between a Kindle sale and a paperback sale for me as a writer.  Printing and distribution costs pretty much make up the bulk of the price of my books.  And by buying books for Kindle instead of paperbacks readers are helping the planet.  I'll have to see how things go, but I may decide in the future to publish Kindle books only.  Although, I'm still trying to get used to my Kindle.  It's fine for when I'm out and about, but when I'm indoors I still like to curl up in bed or a chair with a paperback or hardcover book.

EROTIC OR PORNOGRAPHIC?

My erotica is often accused of being is pornographic. In my defence I hadn’t meant it to be! After penning my first story, Double the Trouble, I gave it to a friend to read who told me that it was too tame to be called ‘erotica’. Discouraged, I gave up on the idea until I picked up a Mills and Boon Blaze and realized just how far romance had pushed into erotic territory. In the novel the word ‘cock’ was used (and not in reference to a male bird) and the heroine had a finger inserted into her bottom as part of foreplay leading up to intercourse. Scandalous!

So, I assumed since romance had become so erotic, it stood to reason that erotica must have become more pornographic! Or so my crazy logic told me at the time. Applying this theory I threw myself into writing not one but three collections of short stories—the most fun I’ve ever had! I’m proud of these stories. I still read and enjoy them, but sometimes even I blush at the in-your-face sex scenes.

I wrote these stories in 2005 & 2006, but I wouldn’t write them today. I constantly fight the urge to take them out of circulation because some fans take them too seriously. They assume that I have had all the experiences and tried every sexual position. I constantly receive invitations for girl-on-girl fun, or to join couples for threesomes. My erotica comes purely from my filthy imagination. I’m far too private a person to reveal anything about my sex life to close friends, much less the world at large.

I never expected readers to hang on to my every word. The books were meant to be outrageous fun, to give readers a thrill, but never for them to emulate! I read all types of erotica including BDSM, but I never get the urge to wear leather, tie a man up and beat him or walk all over him in stilettos. Similarly I read murder mysteries and never feel like killing anyone. Well, anyone except my boyfriend, but that’s a different matter.

The next editions of these books will definitely be cleaner and come with the warning: Explicit Sex Scenes Deleted!

REVIEWS

I’m still a little disappointed at the lack of reviews my books get. It might be that the books are neither brilliant nor terrible enough to warrant strong reactions, but it would be satisfying if readers gave their opinions more often. I know many readers use their real names for reviews and perhaps don’t want to admit to reading my works. I totally respect their need for privacy in that case, but if there are no compelling reasons I would appreciate them taking the time to write a few lines and give an appropriate starred rating.

A horrible thought just struck me: is it because the option they would choose, zero stars, if not available? I’ve had a few reviewers who have said words to that effect, but thankfully not many. And almost all my negative reviews were to do with me using Italics (couldn't resist pressing Ctrl+I for old time sake) a little too liberally in my first editions. A filthy habit for which I’ve been successfully treated, except for rare lapses, like a moment ago. It’s been three years and counting. Ha-ha!

I consider my books works-in-progress and rely on feedback to improve future editions. So, please, please, email me: Lexyharper@aol.com even if you don’t want to write a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or any other website.

MY FIVE-YEAR SELF-PUBLISHING JOURNEY

I’m an introvert and nothing makes me happier than being alone, weaving stories from my imagination. I secretly longed to be a writer all my life, but never really wanted an agent, a publisher and the publicity that go with being a writer. I couldn’t see a way of getting over these stumbling blocks until I considered self publishing.

I did tons of research before publishing my first book Bedtime Erotica mid December’05 at the cost of US $499. This wasn’t the cheapest deal going at the time, but it included 50 free books which were delivered free of cost to my home address in the UK. But more importantly the deal included free distribution on Amazon US. All research showed that I would be lucky to recoup my investment, but the joy I felt when I received my advance copy was worth every cent. I held the book in my hand and thought in awe, I wrote this! That moment remains one of the most glorious of my life.

But I wasn’t totally happy with the finished manuscript. Although I thought I had caught them all, I discovered several spelling and grammatical errors while going through the proof copy. I paid a rather hefty (in comparison) fee of US $50 to correct ten of the worst errors. Only six were corrected and more alarmingly two new ones were inadvertently introduced. Resigned I approved the ‘corrected’ proof for publication.

As predicted, sales were very slow. It didn’t help that I had used a pseudonym and didn’t promote the book. But finally after nine months my royalties totalled US $564.83. I had recouped my capital with a little spare change. I had already finished Bedtime Erotica for Freaks (like me), but I decided to wait until I had earned the money to pay for publishing it, rather than re-use my capital. Over the next two months I made US $517.50. It cost the same sum to publish the second book, but this time the deal included only 20 free books.

Sales grew exponentially from that point and things began to look rather good. Then Amazon changed the way customers searched for items from ‘Search Suggestions’ to ‘Tags’ in Aug’07. My book sales immediately plummeted by 56% and continued their downward slide for years. Things picked up again in August’08 when I published new colour editions of the three books, but they have never matched that period at the beginning of 2007. I published the books on Kindle at the end of August’10 and so far sales have exceeded my expectations, though I’m not selling the crazy numbers that some other authors are.

I may never achieve my lifelong ambition of being a full-time writer, but I don’t regret a moment of my journey. I have learned things that I would have never known otherwise and have a stronger sense of myself. I hope the next five years will be less frustrating and more financially rewarding than the first, but even if they are not, I can be proud of the fact that I did something I desperately wanted to do and did it all my way!

BOOK TAGGING

I’ve generally avoided author forums and networking sites, but at Christmas I decided to join Kindleboards and three author book tagging groups. It has made me revise my estimation of writers as a whole. I’d always thought of writers as a breed apart, honourable people who wrote mainly because they had something they wanted to share with the world. However, with the advent of successful authors like Dan Brown, J K Rowling, Stephenie Meyer and Stieg Larsson there has been an immergence of authors who write purely for money and fame.

Some authors genuinely share sales information to encourage other self-published authors, like J A Konrath and Selena Kitt, to name two, but there are others who just show off their sales figures and give daily updates of their Amazon Sales Rank to brag and increase their own self importance.

Tagging is a simple, straightforward concept: you tag an author’s book(s) and he/she tags yours. Tags increase a book’s visibility, but they don’t guarantee sales. However, authors who join tagging groups should honourably engage in reciprocal tagging. Most members of the group do, but there are a few unscrupulous authors who literally drop their books off for tags and don't tag anyone else. I believe strongly in karma: we get back what we put into this world, so let these non-tagging authors enjoy themselves. I see their machinations and can only feel pity for people who are so dishonourable and sneakily competitive they don’t want anyone but themselves to excel.

EXCERPT - SOCA NIGHTS

Belatedly he wished that he had booked a ticket to Guyana instead. The air hostess’s lilting Trinidadian accent reminded him of his mother’s Guyanese intonation and filled him with longing and nostalgia. But, he reminded himself ruefully, he was thirty-two, not two. His mother couldn’t kiss his hurt better like she had done when he was a little boy.

At the thought of hurt, an image of Dawn, his wife of seven years, surfaced behind his eyelids: her beautiful heart-shaped face framed by long dark brown hair; her shy long-lashed eyes; her sweet smile that could erase the tiredness from his body at the end of a long hard day; her petite, compact body with its narrow waist that he could almost span with his hands; her soft skin and her small firm breasts with prominent nipples she had always taken great care to conceal under clothing.

He had never told her that he’d stole occasional glimpses of their entwined bodies in the mirror of their built-in wardrobe as they made love. She would have been mortified if she had known. Those glimpses had heightened his arousal. Their cocoa-brown skin tones were so closely matched it was impossible to tell where she ended and he began, except for his harder, muscular frame contrasting with her smoother, softer contours. The sight of her slim body pressed against his had been so unbearably erotic.…

Abruptly his image was superimposed in his mind’s eye by one of rippling dark chocolate.

Damn you, Anthony! He silently cursed his best friend for the thousandth time in days, filled once again with the all-consuming rage that was bubbling beneath the surface of his tight-lipped exterior.

“Are you okay?” The softly whispered inquiry from the female passenger across the gangway to his left brought Kevin back to the present.

Curbing his annoyance, he opened his eyes, turned his head and looked into her worried dark gaze. Forcing himself to relax, he assured her, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“It was probably just a patch of turbulence,” she comforted, reaching over to stroke his hand which was clutching the armrest in a vicelike grip.

Turbulence? He had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he had been unaware of anything else, his inner turmoil greater than whatever the plane had encountered.

Her caressing hand was slim, long-fingered, soft and soothing. Kevin took an audible breath, slackened his grip on the armrests and released the last remnants of the fury that had engulfed him.

The woman and her male companion had been among the last passengers to board the flight. The tall, debonair, light-complexioned man was clearly twice the age of the stunning, dark-skinned diva.

And 'diva' she seemed to be. Soon after takeoff an air hostess had brought her two extra blankets, although she was wearing a woollen hat, thick jumper, baggy jeans and the pair of socks she had pulled on immediately after kicking off her red, high-heeled pumps.

As the man had tucked the blankets around her, Kevin had noticed the thick gold band on his wedding finger. The only ring she wore was an intricately designed silver ring on her left thumb.

The man had pulled out official-looking documents embossed with the Barbadian coat-of-arms from a briefcase and perused them for an hour or two before putting them away. He had then ensured that the blankets were still tightly wrapped around the young woman who, as soon as the man had tucked her in, had snuggled her head onto his shoulder, as if her head was too heavy for her poor neck to carry, and fallen asleep. Assured that his little darling was comfortable, the man had leaned back against the headrest of his seat, his head touching the top of hers and fallen asleep himself.

Kevin had shaken his head in disapproval, praying that as he advanced in age that his brain wouldn’t become addled enough for him to date a woman decades his junior. For him, there was nothing more pathetic than an older man trying to retain or regain his youth by dating a woman young enough to be his daughter. It was obvious that the man had been on a business trip. He had probably been too afraid to leave his nubile mistress alone for more than a day. She looked like the type to play while he was away.

Now she had awoken and was caressing the back of Kevin’s hand, looking at him as if she wanted to induct him into the Mile-High Club while the old fool was sleeping.

“Thanks for your concern. I’m fine.” Kevin smiled frigidly, pointedly moving his hand away from her seductive stroking.

She hastily removed her hand, snuggled her head back against the older man’s broad shoulder and closed her eyes without saying another word.

Yes, Ms Gold Digger, get back to your sugar daddy!

***

Well, excuse me for giving a damn! Kimberley Collins felt like slapping herself as she snuggled back against her father and closed her eyes in embarrassment.

She had thought the man was having a heart attack the way he had been breathing rapidly, his broad chest moving up and down in agitation, beads of perspiration popping out on his forehead, his hands gripping the armrests like his very life depended on it! Okay, maybe it hadn’t been that bad, but the man had been visibly distraught. Alright, if she hadn’t been constantly peering at him from under her lashes she might not have noticed his distress, but surely he couldn’t blame her for feasting her eyes when he insisted on looking so damned gorgeous. She had innocently reached across to offer comfort. It wasn’t her fault that his skin was firm and smooth, and felt so damned good under her fingers that she had kept stroking it longer than necessary.

Okay, she would admit that she might have gotten a little bit carried away. But damn, the man’s skin was deliciously strokeable! Taut, stretched firmly over the underlying muscles and so hot it warmed her chilled palm.

It was only as he had pulled his hand away that she had noticed the glaring line on his finger where he must have worn a wedding band until quite recently. In fact, the line was so glaring he had probably forgotten to put it back on after his shower that very morning!

He must think she was desperate!

Kimberley’s groan of mortification was thankfully muffled by her father’s sturdy shoulder.

***

I AM IN THE DICTIONARY.....LOL!!!

I'm quoted on page 477 of The Routledge Dictionary of Modern American Slang and Unconventional English (Hardcover) by Tom Dalzell (Editor)

hammer noun.
1. the penis US, 1967

They had lost all fear of his hammer. Earlier they had teased it mercilessly, using both pairs of hands to stroke the shaft while passing the head from one mouth to the other. Lexy Harper, Bedtime Erotica for Men, p.49, 2006.