Finished Edits, Good Friends, and Delicious News!

Posted on April 23, 2014September 9, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Well, the craziest thing happened on Friday: I finished editing my book.

I wish I could tell you it was that simple, but it wasn’t. It was more like this:

Image from The Gif Garden on Tumblr

Weird, right?

To be completely honest, I didn’t feel finished. I’ve refined this editing process that some might call garden-variety OCD, but it works for me with short stories. Naturally, I thought I’d apply the method to a whole damn book. I mean, I outlined and wrote the thing in less than six weeks, so eight weeks of hardcore editing sounded completely reasonable.

The problem was that along the way, a few other life things had me at my stress max. Like, for example, a breakup. Oh and then the breakup, part two. There was also a tremendous amount of insomnia, and then for bonus kicks, my day job imploded. Fine, fine, no big deal. Next, I had pre-tendonitis in a thumb (what?), followed by pre-tendonitis in a finger on my opposite hand (spiffy). Then, my cat got sick and needed to be coned, which resulted in my two cats having to be separated for two weeks. (Note: cats body slamming and clawing at doors to get at one another may sound cute, but it’s not helpful for any sort of sleep factor. Or editing factor, for that matter.)

So cut to Friday, when I’m about to launch the “final” edit—and there it was: the final meltdown. I threw myself on the floor and kicked my feet in overwhelmed agony. There were even a few tears.

Luckily for me, Malin James came to my rescue. If you don’t know her, here’s a summary: she’s fucking fabulous. We had a seriously lovely phone call in which she talked me down for a good twenty minutes and reminded me that I was too close and probably too thorough, and I’d be editing again after my beta babes read it, so why not just send the manuscript on now?

SO I DID. I mean, when brilliance speaks, you listen.

After I let the book go, I felt like a mama bird pushing her baby chick out of the nest—maybe a little too early, but okay. I’m sure I looked something like this:

Oh my word. Is it done? Can we really call it done? Wahhhh...<br /> (Image from Gifs for the Masses on Tumblr)

Oh my word. Is it done? Can we really call it done? Wahhhh…
(Image from Gifs for the Masses on Tumblr)

Still, the proverbial weight was off my shoulders and I proceeded to enjoy my weekend. I finished a few things. I relaxed. I slept for two nights in a row. Oh my god. I SLEPT, guys. It was great.

Less than a week later, I’m slightly less insane more calm. I’ve dived into a couple new projects while my novel is in my beta babes’ hands. Hurray! After that, I might even ponder a sequel… 🙂

In the meantime, I have exciting news about a couple other people!

First, Alison Tyler is writing a sequel to Those Girls. Did you read Those Girls? If not, you’d better. Stat!

Also, next week, something awesome is happening. Look:

How cool is that? I can’t wait!

Okay. I think I’m finally calm now. Phew! And on top of that, I finished a book.

Which means…time for me to celebrate and write more!

XX,
Jade

P.S. Special thanks to my beta babes, who not only eagerly took the manuscript off my hands, but gave me further cheerful pep talks. Yeah, you know who you are. 😉

Sexy Orgasms on Audible!

Posted on April 8, 2014September 9, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

One year ago today, Rachel Kramer Bussel rocked my world with an email containing a contract for The Big Book of Orgasms.

I didn’t see the email right away because I was coming back from Colorado and my plane had been snowed in. I ended up getting home a day later than planned, and on top of that, I’d had a date cancel on me by telling me he was seeing another girl—not ten minutes after I picked up my suitcase. Bummer, right? I got home super late and annoyed.

But then I checked my email…and started running around the house screaming like a lunatic at almost midnight.

So, I guess that makes today an anniversary of sorts—the one-year anniversary of acceptance on my first published erotica piece. Hurray!

To celebrate, I’d like to tell you about The Big Book of Orgasms in audio form from Audible!

I just finished listening to this audiobook read by the wonderfully talented Rose Caraway, and I have to tell you, it’s quite fun. Rose is extraordinary at conveying the sexiness of each individual character, as well as the overall heat of the tales themselves. I left a full review on Audible, but let’s just say that some of these stories really popped out loud, as if they were destined to be read by Rose’s divine voice. As for my little story, “The Flogger” — I may have read it live, but hearing Rose perform it was superb.

If you haven’t picked up your copy of The Big Book of Orgasms yet, why not try it on Audible? You can get it right here.

I’m going to go throw confetti around to celebrate over here, but feel free to read on for a taste of “The Flogger” from The Big Book of Orgasms!

Excerpt of “The Flogger”:

“You never told me about this.” Julian waved the flogger around, and it almost looked as if his shaft hardened.

She had to be imagining this.

“I did…once.” It was five years ago, when they’d just started telling each other their fantasies—long before they’d moved in together. She’d hidden it in the back of the closet since she never imagined it as Julian’s sort of thing.

His brow furrowed as he swung it, the tassels tapping his thighs.

“Hmm,” he said, reasoning. “Well, I suppose you should come here and…take off your clothes.”

Katie chuckled, but beneath her shirt, her nipples peaked. She walked over and dipped in for a kiss, except Julian held up his free hand. “No.” He rapped the rounded steel cap against her sternum and she jumped. “I mean it. Take them off.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Julian could be an animal in bed, but he never gave her orders.

“You heard me, Katie.” He grinned. “Do it now.”

She unbuttoned her blouse while Julian watched, and he swung the flogger back and forth, the suede leather slapping his skin. She kept her eyes locked on his pelvis, noting that his cock had indeed stiffened with the movement.

“Faster.” Julian tapped her hip. “All of it.”

A spasm rippled through her inner walls. She dropped her shirt to the floor, and Julian plucked her nipples through the sheer lace of her bra, nodding.

“Bra. Skirt. Now.”

She stripped them off.

“Good. Now take off your panties.”

Katie leaned again to kiss him, but he put a hand over her lips.

“Nope. Panties off.”

She hooked her thumbs under the waistband, her crevice already drenched before the cotton hit the floor.

“Spread your legs.”

Something in his voice sent her pulse racing.

Hope you enjoyed it…and that you have a chance to check out The Big Book of Orgasms on Audible!

XX,
Jade

So, the Novel’s Done

Posted on January 29, 2014September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

I bet you’re all still a little dizzy from my post last week with Alison Tyler. Me too!

However, despite the party I’ve been throwing over here, I ended up buckling down and finishing my first erotica book in the last week, too. In truth, I typed “The End” over a week ago, but I didn’t want to call it done, like stick a fork in it D-U-N done, until I handled all those pesky bracketed notes I’d left for myself.

There were 147 of them, after all. And while some of them were amusing, perhaps for only me—[where the hell did her shoes go?] and [what is that one type of jacket with the things and the stuff?]—there were 147 of them. But, as of Sunday, they’re all handled! The book ended up being 87,000 words rather than 90,000, but I was clearly at the end of this darling couple’s journey…at least for this segment.

So what now? Well, I strongly believe in the simmer theory. I gave the file a great big kiss and closed it up with red tape. It is not to be opened for editing until March 1st. This works out surprisingly well, since there are a gazillion short story submission deadlines in March. They’re calling me and a couple other erotica author pals like a siren song, to the point where one of these lovely ladies dubbed them The Calls. (Yes, with capitals. It’s that serious.) Basically, I will be churning out short stories for a month. And when I say “churn,” it’s looking to be about seven stories. Or ten. Depends on how ambitious I’m feeling. I suspect switching from the pace of 87k to 1-5k will require a sharp downshift, but I’m ready. I love shorts!

Speaking of, after tackling all those bracketed notes Sunday, I reopened a short story I’d written over the summer. I have a lot to say about this piece that I’m going to save for a later date, but what I can say is that it was probably one of the most emotional things I’ve ever written. Editing it was almost as difficult as writing it—tears everywhere—and I’m still trying to figure out where it came from. I think sometimes, as writers, we get into the grind of creation, and every once in a while we surprise ourselves. That’s what this piece was for me. For now, I’m filing it away until I can figure out what to do with it. 🙂

So, in summary, yes, the novel is done—but there are plenty of things ahead to keep me occupied until it’s time to crack it open and edit. And that’s the nature of this thing, I suppose. Go, go, go….

Till next time.

XX,
Jade

Out, In, More

Posted on December 31, 2013September 14, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

It’s New Year’s Eve, and for many of us, a good time to take stock and evaluate the year past. So I’m going to do that, but a little differently—because this year, quite frankly, has been a life-changer for me. Hands down, flat-out, smack me on the ass and plant a big juicy kiss on my lips kind of Hello? Is this really happening? year, and I’ve loved every damn minute of it.

So here’s the deal: about ten months ago, I was in the middle of a third-of-my-life crisis (because, let’s be real, 99 years is plenty).

I was 33 years old, and I’d been writing since I was 7. No, really, 7—I’d written this mini piece about a pumpkin for Halloween that got into the paper thanks to my parents encouraging precocious little me—and as much fun as I was having, and as much as I knew it’s what I wanted to do, something still hadn’t clicked. I dabbled in all sorts of things: the first (seriously bad) fictional biography “novel” I wrote at 11, the second (not as bad) YA novel I wrote at 13, and a whole lot of “wow that boyfriend (and that one, and that one, and that one) ran over my heart so I’m going to go super dark” poetry through most of high school. Next was an excursion into sci-fi and fantasy, because I thought a romantic fantasy was for me. So I wrote another book (a full-length one, this time). And on the side, I penned some “really dirty stuff” that I shared with a couple friends, but it never saw much of the light of day. It was me scribbling about how cool I thought sex was, honestly, with a couple of smartassed characters who did things the way I wanted to try and/or repeat them (shoot, sorry mom, why do you subscribe to my blog, again?). I read Anaïs Nin, see, and though I thought she was a genius, that could never happen in the writing I put out there. Never. My smut was for me and maybe some boyfriends about to get lucky. (Mom, just unsubscribe now. But don’t forget I stole Nin off your shelf. And I love you.)

Where was I going with this? Oh yes. Back to the onslaught of my third-of-a-life-crisis. So, I’d shelved all the smutty stuff to focus on spec fic, eventually ending up at a fantasy writing conference. I’d brought a little story about a tormented stripper werewolf who ends up in the middle of an orgy, and my critique partners kept giving me the funniest expressions. I’d written a dark speculative fiction piece, dammit, what was with all the funny looks? And then my group mentor smiled all giddy-like and said, “You wrote a stripper werewolf story. Stripper werewolf. With an orgy. You like to titillate with your writing. It’s fun!”

Huh. Not what I expected.

For a couple months, I toyed around with this concept. I wrote two intentionally erotic stories, adding to my sad collection of three (four? I can’t remember). Then I refocused on my real deal: spec fic. I tried to start another novel. It was about a succubus assassin and was supposed to be seriously dark, but by page 3, she was having sex. I didn’t realize it until I was on page 10 and she’d gotten down and dirty, and then I had a meltdown. I called my mentor and we had a frank talk.

He asked me why I didn’t just write erotica already. The same night, my best friend asked me the question again.

I had a lot of dumb reasons in my head for why that wouldn’t work for me. Some of them were nonsensical misunderstandings I’d somehow formed about myself, and others were possibly valid. I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter—in February of 2013, I made a deal with myself.

“I’ve liked writing it before. Okay. Why not? I’m going to try this erotica thing. I’m going to see how it feels.”

The next day, I was typing away at the keyboard like a fiend.

So in March, I made another deal.

“I’m going to send out some of these stories and see what happens.”

And so I did that, and dove back into writing. I’d already submitted fantasy/sci-fi/contemporary/mainstream/yes-even-that-novel-I-wrote-when-I-was-11 pieces out into the world, so I knew the deal: you send and you put your nose back to the grindstone. Write, write, write. That’s what it’s all about. And in reality, you don’t write for other people, you write because you love it. Because you know it’s the world to you, and you feel it as part of you, in your gut, even if no one else is paying attention.

That’s why the next month totally threw me. First, Rachel Kramer Bussel blew my mind by wanting a piece I’d submitted for a later call in an earlier book—The Big Book of Orgasms. I got the email late at night after coming home from a flight delayed by 12 hours and getting chumped by a prospective lover. (Seriously.) Then I ran around my house squealing and waking up my neighbors because, you know, that’s what you do when Rachel Kramer Bussel tells you she likes your story.

Next, there was the crazy rush I was getting from writing all this erotica. It was like my fingers were moving again. My brain was on fire. I wasn’t slamming my head on the keyboard trying to figure out why my fantasy/sci-fi/fictional-biography/Halloween-pumpkin story wasn’t clicking for me. June was right around the corner, and my little deals with myself had not only led to writing twenty-something short stories, but I was happy. I was alive. I’d found real love and true passion.

I was an erotica writer, goddammit, and I couldn’t be more excited.

So for me, 2013 is one blazing year of deliciously rich feeling, and it’s opened up my world. I’ve met some amazing new writer pals. I’ve read more of some of my favorite erotica artists—true damn literary artists—and then I’ve found a bunch more. I’ve started working with people who I admire so much I have to remind myself that when we meet, I’m not allowed to kiss their feet and/or drool. I mean, it’s only been ten months, but I feel like I’m living the dream—the most important dream there is, for anyone: finding what you want to do, what you love to do, and then…actually…doing…it.

I believe they call this self-actualizing.

I call it fucking rad.

Where will all of this lead? I have no idea. It’s about the journey, right? Mine involves a keyboard, a screen, a comfy desk chair, and an abundantly smutty imagination. We’re just going to kick it and enjoy the ride, because it feels good. It feels right.

So that’s my 2013 wrap-up, but it’s not really a closure at all—it’s more of a big open field of running free, for many years to come.

I’m going to go pour 2013 a drink now, because it was the year I found myself. And I hope that tonight, or tomorrow, or any day or year you face in the future, you have the opportunity to find as much joy as I have.

Until then, keep reading, keep writing, and love every sexy-ass minute of it.

XX,
Jade