We [Were] On a Break!

Posted on March 8, 2016December 29, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

I am the worst at taking a break. I’ve been this way my whole life—relaxation is a thing I enjoy, but most of the time, there has to be something else going on simultaneously. Hell, it wasn’t until recently that I took up watching some TV before bed while needing to talk myself into lying still on the couch (because, sadly, reading revs me up and makes it impossible to pass out). I have a friend who describes me as being incapable of slowing down, but I often correct him to say that I can, I just prefer to have my wheels spinning at all times, if not in person, then at least in the back of my head.

The slowing of the wheels is something I’m actively working on this year. I’ve been going through a lot that I’ve mentioned on the blog, but there’s been other off-site stuff, too, which has made my series-writing ride quite the adventure. Add to this that moderation is a concept lost on me (just give me a pile of candy and I’ll blow your mind, swear), and the fact that I’m still pretty good at pushing past pain…well, put all this together, and you’ve got a flashy sports car that eventually has a major break down and stops working.

Obviously, that, in the middle of a 3-book series, simply will not do.

Picture of feet sticking out of car window, parked to watch sunset

Chillin’. Ammentorp ©123RF.com

Which is why I’ve set up various rewards to honor the need to slow my roll in this already unique process. Since I just typed “The End” and closed off the draft for The Discipline, book 2 in the Lessons in Control series, the one I greet you with today is a deal I made with myself long ago: two full weeks off! This is a time for me to not only not think about the book while it simmers, but to essentially take a mini-writing-pseudo-vacation. Yes, writing is my passion, my sustenance, my love—but revisit that moderation in all things clause, and eventually, one can overdose in love, too.

Plus, a “vacation” always brightens the landscape of pretty much anything, so here I am, taking one!

What does this mean? Save for the potential of my copy edits showing up during this rest time, I’m not doing a lick of writing beyond a blog post or two, and maybe even a little revise of a poem and a piece of flash I wrote a while back, since it’s high time I get some fiction up in this joint. But beyond that? I’m practicing chilling out interspersed with moments of handling a short To Do list I avoided while staying focused on the series. This last weekend, for example, I swapped between bills, taxes, and major social time with friends. I even kicked off Saturday morning with pancakes, bacon, and a coconut milk latte in front of a TV show while still in my robe. Guys, this sort of thing hasn’t happened in years. And you know what? It felt pretty good.

There are other cool things happening in this two-week break, too. One, I’ve got a slew of awesome social encounters I’ve delayed: karaoke, luncheons, dinners, happy hours, and, hell, I might even take myself dancing and then sleep in this weekend! Whoa! Also, I’m finally reading a book. I know this sounds like a no brainer—but between being all up in this series and not being able to read before bed lest it keep me awake, I’ve pretty much been catching only blog posts here and there, and thus haven’t touched a book since, oh, late August (shameful, I know, but it’s the truth). Oh and extra chill-worthy: I’m rewatching Fringe from start to finish. This is my favorite series of all time, right before the wicked tie for second between The Tudors, Dexter, Friends (bonus points if you caught the show reference in the title of this post), Grey’s Anatomy, and the first six seasons of The Vampire Diaries (don’t even talk to me about the current season). I have tons of other good things planned for this time, too, but let it be said: there will be some real relaxation for me. I’m excited!

On top of that, I’m not going to feel guilty. Not at all. I know my lovely little characters can wait for me, and everything—life, series, etc.—will return to normal when I’m back.

We are, after all, on a break. 🙂

XX,
Jade

THE Process

Posted on February 16, 2016December 29, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

Okay, here’s the deal: I kept fooling myself into believing I have a systemized process, and it’s become abundantly clear I’m full of shit.

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been fairly quiet on both this site and my poetry site. For the most part, I’ve had my head down working on the Lessons in Control series. I’m getting more and more excited to talk about it as we get closer to launch in December, but for now, I’m tied up (heh) in edits for The Assignment (book one), the drafting of The Discipline (book two)—and later down the line, the drafting of The Reward (book three).

The process has been thrilling, shocking, and terrifying, all at the same time. My editor, Rhonda Stapleton, has been a dream through the work we’re doing on book one—but alongside that, I’ve had a hell of a journey on book two. Whatever “process” I swore I had for writing books has been, well, doctored.

Dmitriy Cherevko ©123RF.com

Let me give you a little background. The first real book I wrote (because I’m excluding the fictional biography I wrote at 11 as well the YA horror I wrote at 13) was a romantic fantasy that took me 17 years to complete, and at the end of it, I learned one very important thing: I’m neither a fantasy writer OR a strictly spec fic writer. I love sexual content, and I love dripping that all over the pages of whatever the hell I’m writing. So for my next book, I opted to write a comedic memoir about the year and a half I semi-intentionally stopped having sex. (True story!) Turned out, for a book about not having sex, it actually had a lot of sexual content—but it was also about healing from heartbreak, finding oneself, and a bit of ridiculousness that happened in that period, among other things. Honestly, I haven’t talked a ton about this thing since it’s shelved in lieu of what I currently love writing (that would be erotica in its various forms), but, the point is that it took me about three years to write, the end confirming that (1) I needed to write more because it was my life blood and (2) I was capable of finishing things faster than I thought.

Next came a bunch of short stories. I had a spec fic writing mentor at the time who suggested what I needed was to start and stop over and over again, so I could feel more confident in the process before I took on another book. Whoa nelly, did that turn out to be a boon: I wrote something like two dozen short stories in a few months. Plus, I wrote them fast. 4-6k in a couple hours? No problem! I had become a binge writer who also learned the skill of drafting without backtracking, because one can always chop and revise later. I was pretty sure that nifty trick would carry with me for life.

Flash forward to the recent past, and there came The Assignment. I’d been plotting and stewing about how I might be able to write an erotica series for a couple months, and, meanwhile, had an extremely transformative relationship that sparked all sorts of ideas in my head. Then…we broke up. Okay, in actuality, I had to pry myself away because the entire thing was about to ruin me, but a well-timed vacation and a keen interest in the “do not disturb” function on my phone created utter magic. Even through my devastation, the plot of my story became clear and I proceeded to channel all that breakup energy into writing The Assignment. That book—which I am seriously excited for you to read when it comes out in December—took me a whopping week and a half to outline, and right around one month to draft.

For realsies.

And suddenly—I knew my process: outline, speed draft without editing, let it breathe, go in and proceed to smoothe. Check! Oh yeah. It was that simple, and it would be, forever. Right? So while the final version was off wandering the world for a home, I proceeded to start another book—but the entire time, I couldn’t figure out what had happened to my process because I seemed to be going in circles…for almost eight months.

I’d just upped my speed and written a book in a month. How on earth did this thing take so long?

Then came some real life chaos that fucked with me. It took a while for me to get a clue on how to handle it, but when I did, I opted for a book break. I spent a couple months writing shorts and reworking my confidence, so that when The Assignment found a home at Carina Press and they wanted the entire series, I was both giddy and ready to write book two. Except, not so much. I was still contending with the residual chaos that culminated in the attack of the chronic migraines while also struggling to realize this was in no uncertain terms affecting my process. I drafted about 30k. I got migraine sick. I drafted 10k. I was still migraine sick. I tore up 20k. Edits for book one came. I finished them and then drafted 20k. But again, I was really sick and had to straight up stop. When I was migraine-free and ready to go again, I not only cut out about 15k, but completely replotted the rest of the book.

Ha. Take that, process!

Oh, and my binge writing tendency in that entire time period? M.I.A. 1-2k became a good day! But I plodded along, accepting that I would produce, delete, rewrite, break, etc., until somewhere around December when—while setting my 2016 goals—I took a step back and thought, hmm, maybe I should just write the damn book however it comes out, and stop being an asshole to myself because the process happens to have changed from what it was before.

Amazing concept, right?

I have to say—since then, things have continued to be pretty good over here. I turned in another round of edits on book one, and when I sat down to begin the final chunk of the book two draft this last weekend, I didn’t even bat an eyelash at the fact that the first thing I did was replot the last 20k again.

Go figure.

So, ladies and gentlemen, it’s safe it say: I have discovered the real process! It’s good, and I’m going to share it with you. You should grab a pen. Go ahead, I will wait. *Taps foot.* I know you want the Secret to the Writing Universe I discovered over the last few months, and now, I’m going to give it to you!

Okay, you ready?

Here it is.

The official process is…

Whatever fucking works.

Yep. That’s it. (Did you write that down?) 🙂

I have no idea if my process is “no process” because of life things, or just because that’s the truth of the matter, but I’m pleased to have established this riveting…process. Also, I’m curious about everyone else—what’s your process? I’d love to hear in the comments.

For now, though, time for me to get back to work.

It’s a process. 😉

XX,
Jade

Mojo Lost, Mojo Found

Posted on June 30, 2015June 30, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

It has been an insane seven months. I’ve had more stress happening in my life than is reasonable, most it fueled by big drama that I don’t care to get into and that I’d say is only half resolved, but that—I will finally admit—did, in no uncertain terms, zap the shit out of my writing mojo.

Now, for those of you following along, you may have picked up I’m a bit hard on myself. I am part masochist, part perfectionist, part over analyst, part wannabe superhero, and part head-in-the-sand ostrich, so when you mash all this together, sometimes it takes a bad turn. I’m freakishly good at putting on a big smile to cover whatever the hell is going on, ignoring when things are bad, and pushing through insane amounts of pain. On top of that, I am so optimistic (I’m of the “fuck half-full, I have a glass!” ilk), I can convince myself things aren’t as bad as they seem, all while crying about it at the same time.

Gif of muppet freaking out from Gifs for the Masses

Take a chill pill already!

Awesome!

Not.

So here’s the deal…I was working on this book for the last, oh, ten or so months. I was excited about it and the vision I had for it—except I kept ignoring how stressed out I was. Well, okay, that’s not entirely true. I was admitting how stressed out I was, but ignoring how much it was affecting me. Insomnia? Whatever. Excessive oversleeping when given the chance? No biggie. Hours spent watching TV to try and soothe my head, chiding myself the entire time because I should be writing? Whatever. Dragging myself into my desk chair and trying to figure out why the hell I couldn’t focus on the words in front of me, not because I needed a muse, but because day after day I had a bizarrely “fuzzy head” that was, honestly, starting to make me feel physically ill? P-shaw. I mean, the list of symptoms went on and on—but despite all these warning signs, good friends telling me to give myself a break, and me telling me to give myself a break (ha ha), I just kept going. And perhaps as no surprise, the book suffered massively because of this.

There’s good news, though, I promise! First, I had a huge meltdown (no, I swear, this is good). Malin James and I often talk about how some people run like sports cars—we run really hot, crazy fast, and super flashy…and then one part flies off on the track and shit hits the fan and our machine needs major repair. This is complicated and expensive, but damn, does that baby run better once it’s fixed. That said, I am certain I was a BMW in a past life, because, holy shit, did this little car have a break down. In the middle of it, my amazing beta babes kindly (and firmly) took the book out of my hands and suggested a break.

Break? Me?

I circled the track a few more times. Was I really going to break? Would I come back on the track speedier and flashier than ever if I did?

I won’t lie—this part was scary and fucking hard. I have an ingrained fear of doing what I did long ago, something I talked about in my interview with Molly Moore about my adventures between writing as a teen and not coming back to it seriously until about five years ago (and only because I was grounded after a major injury): wandering away from my passion for way too long of a time. I consider myself a Jill of all trades—not amazing at anything but pretty good at a lot of things—and sometimes these side things consume me. (Did I mention earlier I’m also part obsessive? Yeah, that too.) Working Renaissance Faire, becoming a seamstress, becoming an aerial acrobat—these things were passions of mine that I dove into with everything I had, forgetting all the while how deep my true passion, writing, ran in me. When I found that drive again a few years ago, it was so hot, so amazing, so why-the-fuck-have-I-been-away-from-you-for-so-long?, I guess whenever I do cut myself some slack, there’s this tick of worry that I’ll be seduced away in some schmaltzy love affair that might distract me, again, from the real deal.

But that’s not what happened. I’m older, and I understand now how much I love writing…so I went ahead and did it.

I gave myself permission to break.

For a few weeks after the breakdown, I tinkered—and then I just threw up my hands and walked away. Other than a few poems and some blog posts, I barely wrote. Then I took it a step further and took an entire week off to do absolutely no writing or editing or thinking about writing at all. I picked up my niece for a couple days and took her Great America (so fun!), I read some books, I cooked, I slept, I watched a lot of movies, and then I woke up one day and…

BOOM.

There it was, cuddling up beside me—this great big urge to sit in front of the computer and write again.

I took it real easy at first, deciding there was no need to work on a large project, but rather, to write a bunch of small things. I needed to practice starting and stopping again, rather than [over]futzing with something too big to chew on just yet. I needed to simply have a good time writing whatever I felt like, no matter if it was good or bad or for any purpose other than to make me smile again. This was the deal I made with myself for the first two weeks I’ve come back—and, holy fuck, I’m a bit shocked at how much has poured out of me! In the first week I wrote six flash pieces, five shorts, a couple blog posts, and opened up documents or scribbled down notes for upwards of a dozen starter ideas or first lines for new things. I even revisited a character I wrote about prior to switching to erotica, and decided she may one day make it into an erotic series, who knows…but I wrote a flash piece about her to enter a contest.

Then came the best part: my amazing beta babes, Malin and Tamsin, sent me feedback for that book I mangled. The evidence that it was in need of work was clear, but guess what? It turned out there was hope in the thing. And instead of worrying about it, I read their feedback and smiled. Yes, there’s work to be done—but it no longer feels so foreboding and terrifying. It actually feels like it’s going to be pretty fun!

So, here I am in my second week of “play time,” and I’m starting to toy with ideas on what I’d like to do next. Fix the book? Likely. Work on other big things? For sure. But either way, I think it’s finally safe to say it.

I may have lost my mojo for a bit there, but, hot damn—that baby is found!

XX,
Jade

You Got Turned Out

Posted on April 15, 2015April 15, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Well over a year ago, a close friend used a term that struck me as profound—so much so it’s been simmering in the back of my head ever since. The truth is that it was said in reference to a relationship I’d experienced, but eventually, I realized how wide the scope of it was, and how very much I needed to write about it.

See, at the time of our conversation, I was wrapping up one of the most painful breakups of my life. I’ve had many relationships in two decades—some of them waking me in one way or another, others serious enough we nearly ended up engaged, and still others breaking me in ways that required many years of lightness to heal—but this was different. It was heavier somehow, more real, more intense. If I were to describe my past relationships as watercolor paintings, this one was made of oil—dense with color, small details, and texture, and labored over not just with brushes, but with rags and carving tools that molded the canvas of us. It started as a casual fling that should have meant practically nothing, but in the mere nine months we lasted—including four breakups, three standoffs, and two attempted months of silence—the impact still coursed through my blood and transformed me.

So on the night we chatted, this friend of mine listened while I cried to him for probably the third or fourth time, dragging myself in circles over this new kind of hurt, and this strange feeling of having had my heart and soul wrenched open in ways I couldn’t understand. And in the midst of it, he said, very sweetly, “Honey, don’t you see? You got turned out.”

This friend has long been special to me for a variety of reasons, but his frankness—paired with his somewhat uncanny understanding of women—has always captivated me. Having never heard the term, I sniffled a few times and asked what the hell he was talking about. I’ll take the liberty of paraphrasing his response, but the basic concept is this: getting “turned out” means someone has fully broken through to you—turned you upside down, cracked you open, and unraveled you completely. Sure, you may have had sex and love before—hell, you could have had endless sex and love, and believed you’d felt the magic—but this experience is not common, and when it happens, you know. It’s more powerful than any love or good fuck or orgasm you’ve had before; it’s like you’ve found that person who can sink right into your soul, delve into your pores, and bring you out into the world as an entirely altered, more phenomenal version of you.

When he said this, it clicked. I’d known love, lust, empathy, closeness, hurt, passion, and all of the feelings that connect us with one another—but this thing, even as short as it was, had me lost in an emotional and sexual haze all the way through and well after it ended. Truth be told, it’s one of the most complicated things I’ve ever experienced, so uplifting and murky and amazing and excruciatingly painful, charging me even beyond the time it took to heal. This is why I strongly believe the last part of what my friend said in that phone call, too—that this type of experience will inevitably end in one of two ways: ideally, you and the person seize the magic and end up together for life, exploring this brilliance discovered together; or, you and the person call it quits, she who got turned out is hurt for a long, long time, and then—once all the pain dissipates and she can see straight again—she’s essentially reborn with so much more sense, emotional power, and feeling than she’d ever dreamed of before.

A phoenix rising from the ash, if you will.

That’s a big concept to pin on a relationship, I know, but I’d venture to guess a few of you know exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe while you’re reading this, your hearts are thumping in your chests, your heads lifting and falling as you whistle to yourselves because you remember what this felt like. It’s that feeling of putting your heart, your love, your soul, your very essence in someone else’s grasp like you could never have fathomed before—and still being unbelievably okay with it.

Sometimes, it works out. Sometimes, it doesn’t. But no matter what, you will never be who you were before.

So, that’s what’s been churning in my head for a while now, seeping into my work, my stories. I don’t mean to do it, and then suddenly I do. The first time I saw it was in the last book I wrote—I’d drafted it early last year and then came back a month later to edit, following my character through her adventure in love and sex while I made my scribbles on the page…and then WHAM. I actually saw it in her character arc, and said it out loud:

“Oh, look at you. You got turned out, baby girl.”

I thought it was just a one-time thing. Then the feelings kept resurfacing in other stories I wrote, essays I penned, and poems I posted, without me ever intending it. It was like in finding myself, my characters had to, as well. Even in the book I’m editing now, I saw it happening all over again—the protagonist shedding her old skin, embracing this new life and awareness she finds with the one who broke through to who she honestly was. It wasn’t that she wasn’t whole or happy before—only that, in a way, she had to set fire to who she was to leap into this vivid new self. In doing so, she’s become richer, more powerful, and eager for every sensation and experience yet to be had.

She’s been turned out.

Sometimes, I wonder if the intersection of my own experience happening shortly after I sent my first erotica story into the world was a coincidence, or if it was the Universe trying to give me a message. That in embracing my writing, I’d opened up a personal door. Or that in releasing the erotica I’d kept quiet for years, I was finally able to bare my heart and soul, even if it was going to hurt like hell. Or that, since I was going to explore so many things in real life, I would need to feed it all into my stories over time.

Honestly, I don’t know the answer to the how or why—and like the phoenix, I don’t think the past matters anymore.

When you get turned out, the only thing you need to do is soar on.

XX,
Jade

On Elephants and Landmines, and the People Who Help You Through

Posted on March 9, 2015December 30, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

I’ve been in a really funny headspace lately. It’s one that did more damage than good, but I think one we all go through from time to time, to one degree or another (or maybe I’m only saying that so I don’t feel crazy). But in truth, life happens—it’s just that sometimes, it’s full of giant elephants blocking your way between the landmines that can blow your path to smithereens.

Move it, Bertha.

So let’s see. Where do I start?

I’ve been working on this book. It’s an exciting one for me, a standalone story that I started as what I’d intended to be a quick detour before I sat down to draft the sequel of the book my agent is currently shopping around. This baby’s got a lot of elements going for it that have my engines revved…first, there’s a bunch of exhibitionism (as I’ve said before, I am a bit of an exhibitionist). Then, there are a few relationships happening for my darling lead female—not in a poly way, but in a super complicated way I’m enjoying navigating. And then, there’s said lead character—a woman who definitely doesn’t fit the current mold of female protagonists (read: naïve virgins), and who is instead a highly educated divorcée ready to break free of her troubled old life. Score!

But here’s the thing: this poor book has been taking a beating from day one.

It took seven weeks to draft my last book, but this one has had a perilous path, interrupted in more ways than I can count. There was the one-month break. Then the two-month break. Then that other break. Then the rewriting that had to happen since I kept trying to write while I wasn’t sleeping much, or while I was sick. Or…well, you get the picture. It’s just that, for some reason, I can’t seem to get my time and focus into the game on this one.

Okay, truth be told, I laughed as I typed “for some reason”—because my life has been a hot mess for a few months now. For the last five I’ve been contending with an oil-leaking car (finally fixed…I think) and the HOA waiving threats of fines about for the spot I “took too long to clean” (too long was a week, guys, a week) and now the manner in which I’ve cleaned it (because “soap is bad for the environment”). I’ve still been running Jade’s Cat Hospice, which strangely sucks up a lot of time when you consider chasing cats down and medicating them multiple times a day, with one of them using the litter box as her hiding spot when she’s on to me (oh my god STOP that, kitty, stop!), and twice weekly email correspondence with the vet tech. Then there was the cold from hell that completely knocked me out, ironically, for the few days I took off from work to get some editing in on the damn book. I can’t seem to solve my plantar fasciitis problem, and spend a surprisingly large amount of time working on that (stretching, icing, ordering new shoes, returning crappy shoes, wondering if I’ll ever run again, stretching, icing…). My sleep is fortunately not as bad as it was during my 6-week chronic insomnia run last year, but my trick of moving to the couch if I can’t fall asleep and waking up there with a messed up back in the morning is getting kind of old. Then there’s family drama happening that’s kind of boggling my mind, and on top of that, some shit went down at my day job that was serious enough I might need to consider legal help, but I’m not sure if—with my tendency towards insane stress levels—this is the route to go yet.

But all this is neither here nor there. There are children starving in Africa, right? This is what I learned growing up: my problems are not real problems because there are children starving in Africa. It’s a mantra I repeated to myself for decades, one that left me unable to acknowledge until way later that witnessing my parents’ terribly messy divorce when I was a child actually did have an impact. It was a mantra that prevented me from realizing that raising my sister for two years while I was 11 and my parent worked graveyard did force me to play the grown-up when what I needed was to be a little girl and cry. It was the same mantra that had me putting on my game face after a series of emotional and physical traumas in my teens and twenties, because it was easier to just smile, laugh it all away, and keep it quiet than handle it for what would be about a decade. And later, it would be this very same mantra that, when I was performing aerial circus stunts as I mentioned in my interview with Molly Moore, would lead me to break myself in the middle of a performance because I didn’t believe pain could stop me—or should stop me. Ps-shaw. Hell no. I didn’t do pain. I was a superhero and had no time for pain, relaxation, feeling hurt, any of that.

There were children starving in Africa, for fuck’s sake.

Well, the good news is now that I’m 35 and oh-so-wise (did you hear me chuckle just now?), I am less inclined to resort to the children starving in Africa mantra when I’m hurting. I totally feel pain, and I cry; heck, I even have meltdowns that could, I suppose, be hormonal, but holy shit. They happen. It’s rather bizarre, having been the levelheaded one in the family for so many years [decades], that now I actually cry and have to lay boundaries and stuff.

But that relaxation thing? That part where, when I see a big brick wall—or, say, a field full of elephants and landmines blocking every clear route—I know that I need to slow down and accept that this might be trickier than expected and that’s okay, because sometimes tricky things take time?

Yeah, that part I’m still working on.

So I think you might be wondering where the fuck I’m going with all this. Let’s cut back to the cold/chasing cats/work thing/family drama/limping on my foot on the way out to scrub more oil off the goddamn pavement moment: I finally had a whole day free to write and I simply couldn’t. I froze. I cried. I got myself caught in this loop over the fact that I was wasting my productive time to mull over all this bullshit that shouldn’t be stalling me. It was Meltdown City, and I kept wondering if I was PMSing, or worse, bipolar—because hell, that runs in the family—and before you know it, I’m on the internet taking a quiz to determine if maybe I am (who fucking does that?).

I suddenly felt like I did once upon a time, even without the Africa mantra, but damn—was I being hard on myself!

Then three magical things happened.

First, I put a call in to the wonderful and lovely Malin James. Many of you know I adore this woman—she’s like my long lost twin separated at birth—so she felt like the right person to call. She needed a few minutes to call me back, and that was okay. While I waited, I texted my other friend—a non-writer with whom I share other similarities (including some astrological traits, if you’re into that). As she texted me back, I randomly found this article by James Clear about not striving so fucking hard for goals and instead reaching for the process and savoring that. Because that’s attainable. That you can’t fuck up, or bemoan not reaching. Because it’s all about the journey, remember?

So about the time I’d gotten the gist of Mr. Clear’s very clear point, my phone went off with a text and a phone call all at once. My two dearies had come to the rescue. The texter hit me with some sweet words telling me I was going to do just fine with the book, and then some encouragement to go on a long walk and drink more (she’s an exercise fiend and a wine connoisseur) and remember we’re Geminis (and thus naturally a tad bipolar). Meanwhile, the fabulous Malin chimed in with her extraordinarily calming and logical approach to tackling huge missions while circumventing bitchy elephants and dangerous landmines in a way that made sense to me (the twin thing again).

Bring it, Journey. Konrad Bak ©123RF.com

And I’ve got to say—between these three events, I was suddenly okay with putting my story down for the day. I took a deep breath. I closed the browser telling me I was potentially bipolar. I calmly enjoyed the rest of my afternoon. I even went karaoking with another great friend (my version of the walk and drinking…instead I danced and drank) until something like 2 in the morning.

Because you know what? There are children starving in Africa. And elephants are awfully big to walk around. Also, landmines can be treacherous.

So sometimes you’ve just got to slow down and go with it.

Things are still stupidly chaotic in my life, but I’m not panicking on the book anymore. It will happen. And writing this post reminded me of a passage I scribbled from a phenomenal book I read last summer, Hillary Jordan’s When She Woke:

“I don’t have far to go.”

“That may be…or it may be that you have a greater distance than you think. But either way, you’ll get there eventually.”

You know what?

I will.

XX,
Jade

Pillow Talk Secrets: Blowing Kisses to 2014 and Celebrating 2015!

Posted on January 2, 2015January 1, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Happy New Year, everyone!

Well, we’re on the second day of 2015, and to celebrate, Pillow Talk has a special New Year’s Secrets for you! Today, Malin James, Tamsin Flowers and I recap the year that was and usher in the excitement of the next one. Tamsin is our host this time around, and she’s thrown us some fun questions about our experiences as erotica writers, memorable writing moments, and other sexiness we’ve found in the industry. As usual, I’ve posted a bit of the session here with a link to continue, or you can hop on over to our site to read Secrets in its entirety.

Thanks so much for joining us—2014 was a great year, and we can’t wait to share more secrets with you in 2015!

XX,
Jade

Pillow Talk Secrets

Tamsin: Hello ladies. How are you both doing today?

Malin: So good! How are you Tamsin? Jade?

Jade: Great! So nice to be here with you both.

T: It certainly is good to meet for the first time in 2015 – Happy New Year to you both and to all our readers!

J: Yes, Happy New Year! *Blows party whistles* *Throws confetti*

M: I love the New Year – it always feels good to start fresh. *removes confetti from hair* 😉

T: It is great to have a fresh start. Now, let’s get going on today’s business – our look back over 2014 and our look forward over 2015. I’ve got a few questions to put to you two – starting with what was the most surprising thing writing erotica taught you about yourselves last year?

M: Oh boy.. Well, I think the biggest thing it taught me was that I’m far more comfortable with myself sexually now than I’ve ever been. I don’t seem to have the hang-ups that plagued me as a younger, non-erotica writing woman.

J: It certainly does have that effect, doesn’t it? Something about writing erotic things adds to one’s erotic nature, I think.

T: I agree. And on a similar note, the more erotica I write the more comfortable I am with the fact that I’m an erotica writer. At first I didn’t want anyone to know – but now I take the opportunity to tell more people and most of them receive it very well.

J: I just love that feeling! I find the reception being positive is true, too.

M: Yes! It’s kind of funny to realize how much apprehension you can have about writing erotica when you first start playing with it. It’s nice to let that go as you develop as a writer.

J: I wrote about that acceptance of myself as an erotica writer back at the end of 2013 – and this year, having been one with it and really truly loving it, I would say the most surprising thing I learned is what a damn work horse I can be. I mean, I know I go at it sometimes, but I’ve had to pull back from working myself to exhaustion a few times. That was a shocker. I’m sure you both can relate to that, too.

T: Absolutely – that was one of my answers – I’ve surprised myself with my sheer doggedness when it comes to getting stuff done!

M: I never would have called myself a workaholic until this past year, but I’ve been surprised, like both of you, by how much it’s actually true. I guess loving your work brings that out!

J: Yes. But one of the things that’s helped is that you both have been around to “talk me down” when I’m taxing myself. I think that’s one of the greatest things we’ve done for one another (besides all the “talking up,” of course).

M: Yeah – that support really has been critical. It’s easy to push too hard, or get too low. Having two partners/friends who can offer that bit of perspective is just invaluable.

T: It is a wonderful thing, and I wouldn’t be without you two! Now, what’s the most interesting or surprising thing you’ve learned about the industry over the course of 2014?

M: For me it was a fairly general realization. I was surprised by how unstable the market has gotten recently, and yet, within that, how many other options writers have. That and how unfailingly supportive other writers are.

T: That was totally going to be my answer – just how fantastic the erotica community is. We might supposedly be competing against each other but every writer I come across is generous with their support.

J: Yes. It’s a tight-knit group – probably the most lovable and delightful group of all the writer groups I’ve worked with. Considering how much flak the genre can get, it’s wonderful to have that support.

T: If we don’t help each other, who will?

J: Right!

T: Now, turning to what we’ve all been writing, tell me each of you, what was your hottest sex scene of the year?

Click here to read more!

Coming Together: Among the Stars—”The Joy Ride” Excerpt

Posted on December 15, 2014December 11, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Hurray! Coming Together: Among the Stars is officially out today!

I’m so thrilled “The Joy Ride” is a part of this anthology, both because I love a good venture into spec fic AND because this hot little collection is for a good cause—all proceeds benefit the International Still’s Disease Foundation. Fantastic!

In honor of release day, I thought I’d share some backstory as well as an excerpt. Let’s start with the backstory—“The Joy Ride” is a particularly special piece for me. The original version was actually one I wrote while I was in the process of deciding to do this erotica thing for real. Sure, I’d penned a piece here and there, but it wasn’t clear to me—yet—that erotica was what really spoke to me.

So there it was 2012, and I’d ended up at a Fantasy and Sci-Fi writing conference where, during the course of the weekend, we were supposed to write a flash story inspired by the line, “On Thursday, she pressed the button.” I opted to write a story about a woman fed up with her ex-husband and job, who then spotted a button in her hotel room labeled Press for a good time. And when the woman pressed the button, two hot alien creatures arrived and took her away on their space ship. The story was sassy and silly, but somewhere in the course of it all, one of the aliens mentioned that usually only men press the button.

My critique group got a big kick out of this line, since I’d already written a rather titillating piece about a stripper werewolf. Someone asked about the lives of the aliens, and the next thing I knew, I was on the airplane flying home, drafting an early version of “The Joy Ride”—this time told from the alien captain’s point of view and, unbeknownst to me, lighting the first spark in my head toward taking my erotica writing more seriously.

Two years later, the wonderful Lynn Townsend had a call for Coming Together: Among the Stars. I dusted off the old story, changed a few [major] things, and poof! There it was: the little story that first kicked my naughty brain into full gear, revised and ready to jump aboard this fabulous charity anthology!

So, enough of the behind-the-scenes stuff. I’d say it’s time for an excerpt, wouldn’t you? “The Joy Ride” follows Captain Ronat and Co-Captain Loul, two alien creatures who have been orbiting the Earth as part of a 30-year penalty for galaxy back taxes, until one day they pick up an Earthling couple.

Excerpt:

The man cowered as Ronat walked to him. Ronat didn’t touch him, but he did lay his hand on the grey surface behind Bill’s head. The solid panel evaporated into one huge window, giving the man a close-up view of the Galaxy.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

“But…we were just…how is this…?” Bill put his hands on the window and stuck his forehead so close against it his breath fogged the glass. The light of distant planets twinkled and blinked, brightening his face until his sharp frown began to dissolve. “Is it really…?”

Ronat nodded. “It is, my friend. Welcome to the Galaxy.”

Bill kept his palms on the window, mesmerized by the view. When Ronat placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he met Ronat’s eyes with a flash of longing in his own. It didn’t hurt that the chemistry between humans and his kind created a state of heightened arousal for both parties, which is why the Earth leaders had allowed them to occupy the Galaxy in exchange for hotel service so long ago.

“I feel like I should tell you to take your hand off me, but it’s strange…I don’t want to,” Bill said.

“It’s okay. It’s natural between our kinds.”

He gulped. “What is your kind?”

“We’re from Tetro, part of an ancient race in the Galaxy.”

Bill drew his hand from the window. “Why are you here?”

“Long story,” Ronat said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. All you need to know is that you’re here, in flight, and anything you want can be yours.”

Bill stared.

“Anything,” he repeated.

Bill raked his gaze over Ronat’s scaly flesh and crisscrossing straps, then down his silver pants. He seemed most captivated by his moon boots, and while he focused on them, Ronat moved closer. He could smell Bill’s sweat under his button-up shirt, a residual pungency of long hours at the office mixed with the essence of Earthling arousal.

“I don’t know that I’m into that,” Bill said. “I’m married.”

As if on cue, Andrea let out a moan that lasted for a solid minute.

Bill whispered, “Can I see her?”

“Sure. But you have to know that she’s in the middle of—”

“I want to see her. I want to see it.”

Well, well, well.

Ronat ran his pinky on the wall in the shape of a hexagon, then tapped three times. The eye scan appeared and he lined his retina up with the infrared beam, blinking fast so that his third lid retracted before the scan ray hit. A click sounded and the wall vanished, opening the hull of the ship to the room where Loul and Andrea fucked like Earth dogs.

Bill exhaled heavily. His wife was oblivious to his presence, but Loul glanced over. Naked and glistening, he pummeled Andrea from behind, bringing groans of pleasure from her throat as she clawed backward to reach his dark, scaled ass.

“Oh my gawd!” she cried. “Oh…my…gawwwwddddd.”

“Oh my,” Bill muttered. His eyes widened as he watched her, her tits bouncing all over the place. The smell of Andrea’s juices permeated the air and wafted into Ronat’s nose, sending a tingle through his body.

He crept behind Bill. “What do you think?”

Andrea answered for him “Yes, yes! Give it to me!”

Loul weaved his hands in Andrea’s tousled red hair, then angled back enough so both Ronat and Bill could see the flexing of his abs as he glided repeatedly inside her.

Bill gasped.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” Ronat grasped Bill’s shoulders, massaging them while the man’s breath grew more ragged. His own cock lurched at the sight, making his silver pants incredibly uncomfortable. “Do you want to join?”

“I can’t. She’s obviously—”

“Oh, she wants it, Bill. Look at her.” Ronat leaned into his ear, his lips lightly grazing the man’s lobe. “Your wife is an animal.” When Bill didn’t speak, he shouted across the room. “Hey Loul! Can we join?”

Loul paused mid-thrust and Andrea tossed up her head, her face glistening with the sweat of wild sex. She registered the view of her husband for a second, her eyes spreading in surprise.

“Bill! Oh no, I didn’t know that you… I’m so sor—”

Loul drove himself all the way into her and she belted another cry. “Don’t you dare be sorry,” he said, pumping her a few times into incoherence. “You both came here for a good time!”

Bill’s face softened. There really was no way for this to go poorly. The only question was how Bill would insert himself into the scene.

With his next words, he made Ronat a proud accomplice.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” Bill said. “You are so hot right now. Can we join in?”

Loul threw back his head, gripping the sides of Andrea’s waist for one final shove inside her. “Fuck, yes!”

When Andrea wailed in pleasure, Bill stripped off his clothes in less than thirty seconds, piling his slacks, tie, button-up shirt, boxers and undershirt on the floor. Then, wearing nothing but his socks and a cock at full mast, he peered between Ronat and his spasming wife.

“Are you coming, too?” he said.

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt!

“The Joy Ride” is part of Coming Together: Among the Stars, edited by Lynn Townsend, and with so many other fabulous erotic sci-fi authors included in this one, I’m sure it’s going to be a treat.

Please pick up your copy on Amazon—every book purchased helps support the International Still’s Disease Foundation!

Thank you for reading and supporting the cause!

XX,
Jade

Because of the Way He Held Me

Posted on December 8, 2014December 9, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Many of you know I write poetry, and usually, it’s quite erotic—whether it be romantic and erotic or downright dirty and erotic.

Today, I’ve got a new poem for you—but it’s not as erotic as I normally write. It’s getting back to my poetry roots, somewhat: a little darker, a little deeper, and in many ways, a little more raw. There was a time all the poetry I wrote was based on something that happened to me, or a relationship I had; this piece definitely flows in the same vein.

I hope you enjoy it.

BECAUSE OF THE WAY HE HELD ME

Jade A. Waters

Two silhouettes in a room
Filled with smoke, voices loud
He came to me, cornered me
Whispered, “Won’t you come with me?”
His arm twining round my waist, pulling me close
And I did, knowing for certain
It would be because of the way he held me.

Our dance began—magnificent, tremendous,
Two rushing rivers of lust,
Two colliding powers of desperate force.
When he stared into my eyes, I saw everything—
The world, the stars, the secrets to our souls.
It was all wrong
It was so right
But it was because of the way he held me.

Together, we moved
Hips joined, breaths one
A fire so deep the earth trembled, rolled, split open
A tsunami of sensation crashing over him, over me
Over us.
We were the tide, controlling rivers, lakes, and oceans,
We were the universe
All because of the way he held me.

In the dark of the night, we lingered close
His words more whispers, his fingers tracing swirls
Over the tender spread of my hips—
“Because you’re mine,” he’d say.
And I would cave, succumb
And feel
Making wrong a broken word I didn’t understand
Because this was right
And all because of the way he held me.

Now, the wash of memory sweeps across a distant shore
But his hands are still on me, his lips still near
The brand of a lifetime
So deep in these pores.
And I know it will be this way,
A long, long while
Because of the way he held me.

Thank you for joining me for this one.

XX,
Jade

Interviewed by Lynn Townsend!

Posted on November 10, 2014November 10, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Hi everyone!

I’ve hopped over to Lynn Townsend’s blog today! Ms. Townsend is the editor of the exciting and forthcoming Coming Together: Among the Stars, which is a charity anthology to benefit Still’s Disease. I’m so thrilled to be a part of this book, and I have more info plus an excerpt coming closer to its release in mid-December. But for now, the lovely Ms. Townsend was kind enough to invite me over to her place. Hurray!

Ms. Townsend asked me all sorts of fun questions about my stories, my process, how I came to writing, and a few other details about me. Plus, she even got a picture of my desk…and a small confession about the origins of some of my stories. Hmmm… 😉

So, please join us over at her site. I had a fabulous time answering her questions, and I hope you enjoy finding out a little more about me!

Thanks for reading, and please pre-order your copy of this fabulous anthology to support a great cause. You can find it on Amazon or Smashwords!

XX,
Jade

The Big Book of Submission Blog Tour is Here!

Posted on August 10, 2014September 8, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Stories is out now from Cleis Press, and I have to say, I’m thrilled to be part of another of Rachel Kramer Bussel’s super sexy flash fiction collections. The stories in here are shorter—1,200 words or less—which means the anthology is packed full of stories from writers I’m proud to share pages with, each one providing a new take on submission.

My story in the anthology is called “Others,” and I previously posted an excerpt here—so today I want to focus on the story itself as well as share a somewhat hilarious behind-the-scenes tale. Let’s start with the story. “Others” is the first time I ventured from the lighthearted and playful stories I started with into a darker, heavier style. The bulk of this was that I wanted to experiment with a tone I used back when I wrote speculative fiction, but another part was approaching themes I gravitate to both as a writer and a reader—submission, exhibitionism, and m/f/m dynamics. The first, submission, has always intrigued me; I’m captivated by the trust involved in surrendering to someone else, as it’s an entirely different level of intimacy that I find intensely powerful. The second theme, exhibitionism, is dear to my heart—I’ve confessed on an alternate blog tour stop that my first orgasm with another person was under a third person’s watchful eye, and thus the concept has long been one I like to explore in my work. Finally, there’s the m/f/m dynamic…well, let’s say this fascination sparked the night I walked into my senior prom with not one, but two dates on my arm. Ah, memories…

All right, moving along…now that we got the deep dark part of this out of the way, I need to flash my lighter side (for those of you of the astrology ilk, I am a Gemini, through and through). See, I have a somewhat ridiculous and embarrassing behind-the-scenes story for the creation of “Others”—and since so often there’s seriousness in our back stories, I figured this goofy tidbit needed to be shared.

Shortly after I saw Rachel Kramer Bussel’s call for this anthology, I had a morning to write before a late afternoon chiropractic appointment. I was so inspired I planned to write all the way up until I had to leave—but I’d only gotten a few paragraphs in before the receptionist called and asked if I’d be able to come early due to some sort of emergency meeting.

I like being helpful, so of course I packed up and set out…but the story was burning a hole in my brain and I couldn’t let it sit for hours (my chiropractor is almost 45 minutes from me). I decided that this was the day to try dictation. Why not? If I could write erotica, I could certainly talk it to myself while driving, right?

Um, kind of.

So there I was, dictating away…but I have a theatre background, so I admit I was getting carried away with the lines. I was doing voices and everything, which got me a bit worked up over the whole thing. Still, I was doing okay. I focused on the road. I could manage this. I was cool. And then a few minutes later, right in the middle of a majorly heated part…

Some asshole swerved and almost hit me.

Naturally, I did what you do—I flipped the fuck out and screamed some obscenities he couldn’t hear through my closed windows. It took me a good minute to settle down (we’re talking two inches away going 70 on a freeway, guys), and then I attempted to continue my narration. I arrived at my chiropractor ten minutes later rather pink-cheeked—partially over the near-hit, but also over the story narration—and my doctor even said so.

“Good day today, Jade? You look…happy.”

“Oh, I am. Was just…uh…fleshing out a story, you know…”

Yeah. So when I left, I decided I’d had enough dictation for the day and opted to work the tale around in my head until I got home, where I sat down to listen to my recording and type it all up.

Now, narrating erotica is one thing. Listening to yourself dramatically narrating a hot story is an entirely different matter. Sure it was funny because I was over the top, on one hand, but on the other, I was getting a little hot under the collar (I’m an extremely aural person). I remember thinking, Jesus seriously? I just recorded this driving? This scene is getting really intense…wow, why, WHY did I act it out? Is it hot in here? Theatre people should not be allowed behind a mic with erotica like EVER. Ever!

And all of a sudden, I heard…

“Holy shit, asshole! Learn to drive! Oh my fucking god!”

Then, after a brief pause, the recording striving for an Erotica Oscar segued right back into more naughtiness.

I am sorry to say I deleted this recording (because why would I ever play that for anyone, ever?)…but I assure you I laughed pretty hard. I finished transcribing and then continued the story with a big fat amused smile on my face. And after that, I decided dictation was maybe not my thing—especially not while driving.

So there you have it! A little humor behind “Others,” my [not at all funny] story in The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales.

Want to get your hands on this sexy book? You can pick it up right here.

Be sure to continue on the virtual tour for more back stories, reviews, excerpts, and more. The stops are listed right here.

Thanks for joining me on this stop! And, er…be safe on the road, folks…

XX,
Jade