Fear

                                                              

Am I stupid enough to tell you about my biggest fear? Duh, NO. This blog will be about something I have dreaded for over a year. I still am not sure about it but I have been assured that it will all be okay and if not then Mia Ashlinn will be getting her ass kicked. This is about blogging. I will be the first to tell you I am scared to death of this blog. Dawn Gore Meador brought this blog site up to me over a year ago. We talked about it but we wanted to make sure that we had people that would write the blogs. We had noticed a bunch of people in our group said they liked to write so we thought now is the time. I talked to the other admins and the blog was born.

We posted in the group about the blog but only a few people said they would write blogs. I asked myself, Bitch (yes that is what I call myself) why does no one want to write a blog for us. I found out when I sat down to write my first one. The overwhelming fear of the unknown. I was an okay student but writing scared the crap out of me. I now know what writers go through but on a much smaller scale. We may get five or six people to read this blog if we are lucky and count each other.

Now on the reason for the fear/freak out. I have found that when I am writing I cannot separate myself from the subject I am writing about. Mia said this is a good thing. I am going to trust her this one time and pray she is right. I decided that my first blog should be the introductory blog. I guess that makes sense or maybe that is just me talking crazy again. Now I sat down and put my fingers to the keyboard and nothing. I mean nothing wanted to come out. The fear was holding me back so I decided I would just randomly put some thoughts down and then try and make it work. Then like lighting striking as I started to type my thoughts actually started to make it into sentences. Once I got started it went fast.

The next thing was actually sending it to someone else to read. This is where the fear really kicked in. I was scared to death, I mean damn someone else was going to read what I put down and be able to judge me for my thoughts. On my best day I am a confused mess and this was probably not my best day. I sucked it up and sent it off to Mia and Luna by personal beta’s. I think one of the first things Luna said to me was that comma’s were my friends and I should use them. I then had to explain to her that punctuation was my nemesis and that I will probably never catch on to it.  Hell the only reason anything was spelled correctly was because spell check is my bestie. I know the word is spelled wrong but I am at a loss to fix it or maybe I should say it would take me forever to fix it because I am one of those people that write it out till I get the spelling correct. I could just look it up but why do things the easy way.

Now on to the really scary part which was content and making sense. I am still not sure if I make sense in my blogs, goodness knows I have blog ADD. I am all over the place and many times I have had to take notes because as I am writing I think of other blogs to write. This is the part where Luna and Mia come in. They both read it and help me make it better. No they don’t rewrite it they just help me fine tune it and make sure that I am clear in my crazy talk. Do I think my blogs are any good? No, but Luna and Mia tell me they are just like when we talk on skype or on the phone so I guess that is a good thing. Actually, I am not sure because neither of them have said they are good just that they are most definitely my thoughts.

Now I have to wait and see what you all think about my blogs. My question to you is would you suck it up and write one or are you more of a reader and commenter?

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

Too Much of a Good Thing?

                                                  

Today’s blog is about interaction with authors.  Reaching out and touching your favorite authors (sick puppies get your mind out of the gutter) has been made so much easier with social media. Is this a good or bad? I guess it depends on the author. There are a variety of ways to contact your favorites. Most have a Facebook page or a twitter account. Others just have email accounts and their websites. Each author is different but for the most part they like the one on one contact with their fans.  Some value their privacy and are like some of the authors of old who liked to remain anonymous.  Others are out at book signings and like to greet, shake hands and yap with the crazies otherwise known as fans. But when does talking with an author become too much? That is the question we are going to discuss today, really I will be typing about it and you will be reading about it.

Now I am one of those people who is on Facebook all the time. I yap with my friends and I know that it is shocking but yes, I do have friends.  I see authors making posts and commenting on their wall and doing random promoting.  I never bother them unless it is a certain East Tennessee author then I bug the hell out of her. Anyone else I leave alone. I know that some authors don’t mind if you start chatting with them but I never want to feel like I am a bother.  I would rather them get their stuff taken care of and get back to the business of writing the next book.  Now if they comment on something I post or on my wall then they are fair game. I will chat with them till they have to go or I pass out whichever comes first. This is the only time that I talk to some of them. I have some as my friends and have never even spoken to them. I only added them for updates on their books or blogs (not that I go and check them out very often).

Unless I am contacting an author for a chat I rarely send them private messages. I know most don’t mind but I also know that there are a few people who send them messages every day. I have no idea what these messages could be about since most of the time books are self-explanatory. Maybe they are shy and want to show their love for a book in private. Me, I like to let everyone know who I love and how I love them (geez you guys spend a lot of time in the gutter).  If I have a question about a book then I write it on their wall because if I have that question then maybe someone else does too.  Normally it is more like “ When am I getting the next book and who is it about?”  It may be killing two birds with one stone which in the end helps the authors get back to the writing, which is the important thing.

For some fans the line between friend and fan becomes a very blurred line. For me it is very clear, if they call me just to chat then they have moved into the friend territory. If they want to talk to me about their personal lives then we are friends. I know, I am always shocked that anyone would text or call me if they didn’t have too. Well, except for Mia who just likes the abuse that I offer long distance. If I know an author’s real name, their kid’s names, or the author’s favorite sexual position, again I have moved into friend territory. Even though I am sometimes in the friend zone I still have trouble calling or texting with authors. I try not to bother them. I never want to be that friend who is always calling, texting, or showing up on their doorstep. Normally, that is because after a few times of hiding in their bushes they serve me with a restraining order but you know it is the price you pay for being me.

Now, if they contact me and ask me about their books or something related to their work then I am a reader. I think that because we as readers have more immediate contact with the authors some take it as a personal relationship. In a way it is but in my mind you must remember that they are first and foremost authors. They are like anyone else in the public eye. They are out there selling not just their books but themselves in a non-prostitute kind of way. It may be a bit easier for me because as an administrator for a book group, I know that some people try and get in my good graces (like I have some) so that they can come to the group and pimp their books. Yes, I know that I am a cynical bitch, but once bitten, twice shy.  I try to keep that in mind every time I friend an author on Facebook or talk to them at a convention. When standing face to face with an author it is easier for both of us to connect and to know if we want to be friends or just acquaintances on facebook.  But when the person is just lines on a computer screen it becomes much harder for author and reader. 

   

I know that it is difficult for some authors to balance or know when the fan has crossed the line. They have to be careful of offending their readers. It is not so much that they don’t want to talk to them but for most authors they just don’t have the time to get into one on one conversation with each and every person. Most of these authors have hundreds of friends or in some cases thousands.  This is not even counting their fan pages or groups. The thing I think that most readers need to remember is that if you are constantly sending them messages then they will not have time to write the books that you want to read.

The question now is are you a fan or someone who has forgotten where the line is drawn? Don’t worry we have all blurred the line a few times.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Schmuttmeister

What is Friendship ???

                                                            

To me friendship should be a balance of the two people and not one person always being the needy one.  Now, I am not going to lie and say that I won’t call you to bitch about my day or something but then again everyone needs someone to vent to. To me this is what friendship is about, having someone who you can vent to and know that they are willing to say get the fuck over it already. Your best friend should be able to make you laugh even on your worst days. They should make you feel better about yourself when you hang up the phone or walk away from them. Even if you are mad at them they should be the one that you think of first or second (depending on how much you like/love your spouse) when you get great or terrible news. They will suck it up and do things that they hate just to make you happy or talk you out of things if it is a terrible idea. This is what I consider a great friendship, but then again maybe I am wrong in what a friend should be.

I think I am a good friend but it seems like my kind of friendship is too much to ask of someone. I do not ask for a lot from a friend. I am not one of those people that will call you up all the time crying about this or that.  I am way too private for that.  I am more likely to be the one who calls and says “So I am in the pokey you want to hit the bail fund and come and see me?”  I will keep your secrets and hold you when are crying or tell you to shut the fuck up and do something if you are in a bad situation. I will help you move or beat the crap out of someone for hurting you. This is what friendship should be.

Over the years I have had a few close friends but it seems like people can only take my kind of friendship for a few years before they decide to drop me as a friend. Oh, they say they are busy and just haven’t had a chance to call or they didn’t realize how long it had been since we have talked. I call bullshit on this. Now, I have no life and I freely admit it and I have ample time to talk to friends. I understand that people have families and other things to do so I try not to bother them too much. But what pisses me off to no end is when they find a new friend and then the time between calls gets farther and farther apart. And if by chance you do talk to them, most of the conversation is about their new friend. To me this is one of the worst acts of betrayal. It is like calling your ex who still loves you and telling them all about your new boyfriend. Why do that????

I used to count a few authors as friends and I found out that really I was just a dollar to them or a way to get ideas for promo or basically just to help them in their careers. I have found that a few betrayals of author friendship has now destroyed my love of reading. I have not read a new author in well over a year. I have barely been able to read my favorite authors new work. There are very few exceptions to this, one being Sherrilyn Kenyon.  I have found a few authors and I like them as people but I have bought their books and nothing happens. I can’t seem to start their books. For a long time reader this is devastating. It really does make me want to cry.

I have spent thousands of dollars on conventions and found that I am just another number to most of the authors there; even ones that I thought were my friends.  I may never go to another one again.  I am not saying I have not met some amazing people there but to me it is just not worth the disappointment that I feel when I find out that someone I cared about just sees me as a dollar sign.

That being said I have pulled away from social media a lot and I am not sure I will ever come back. I will still run RP and post the blogs that I have written but I am not sure I will write anymore.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister. 

Charmaine Pauls

Addictions and obsessions in love

“His reason for working, for making his millions, had suddenly changed course after that night in Zone 11. His reason for living. If he hated himself for the degraded human being he had become, he hated her more for making him so. Yet, he stood there and stared at her, at her beautiful features, her perfect nature, her strength, and felt every molecule in his body react, come to life. Around her he was a building volcano. When she was gone, he was nothing but cold ashes. He grimaced. His life had become one, big black hole. And there was nothing he could do about it.”

Loving someone madly, obsessively, to the point of addiction can be heaven … or hell.

Emilio Larraín knows what it is to be in hell. He is obsessed. He is addicted. And the woman he desires with an all-consuming passion belongs to another. To his best friend.

The woman of his dreams is Dr. Fraya Riber, genius astronomer. The year is 2165. After a chemical genocide a new blood type has evolved, and with it, a biological paring phenomenon, called mating. Females and males can only mate if the cocktail of hormones are physically compatible. Unknown to them both, Emilio infected Fraya with a hormone through his saliva when he saved her from drowning and administered mouth-to-mouth. Now, the new hormone in Fraya’s body is creating a physical addiction to ensure breeding. Only by falling pregnant will the addiction be healed. And only Emilio’s sperm can ease the painful arousal tormenting her body.

The spanner in the wheel is that Fraya is engaged to be mated to Gene Anderson, Emilio’s childhood friend. Fraya owes Gene her life. She is caught between loyalty and passion. Being O+, one of the last to survive, Fraya is compatible with all males and can mate any man she wishes. She is free to choose. But having a choice is not always that easy.

Can she turn her back on the man who pulled her from a burning car wreck and who carries the scars to remind her, for a desire so hot it is eating her alive?

And if she repays Gene’s love and kindness with breaking her promise to him, can she choose between her dream job, the one thing she has worked for all her life, and a man who needs her for sex?

When choices have to be made, Emilio places his friendship with Gene above his own, selfish needs. But when Gene gets cold feet on their mating day, Emilio is willing to do anything to get what he wants. Fraya’s body belongs to him. They are bound by their addiction. Now, he wants her soul. He is willing to put everything into the fight. Even if he has to use sex as a weapon.

Only one question remains. Can a physical addiction grow into love?

The Astronomer is a futuristic erotic romance that is due for release in November this year. If you’d like to be informed when the book is released, please subscribe to my newsletter (which I only mail out when new books are released), and also stand a chance to win a Kindle Fire. Thanks for having me on the blog!

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An excerpt from The Astronomer:

He moved until he stood almost against her, their bodies a hair width apart. He was much taller, so that her eyes locked onto his powerful torso, and she could see his chest move with the fast intake of his breath. Fraya’s heart started pumping furiously, the beat echoed in her aching skull. She felt herself heating from the inside out, her cold forgotten, her trembling now not related to the weather at all. She held her breath in a futile effort to stop the erratic little gulps that had replaced her normal respiration.

       What the hell was wrong with her? This has never happened before. She had a long friendship with Gene before they got engaged. Falling head over heels in love was not her thing. Neither was getting weak-kneed for a man she didn’t know from Adam.

       He brushed her long hair away from her face and grabbed it in a ponytail at the base of her neck. “I need to check this cut, but I’ll have to clean you up first. Can’t see anything through the mud and twigs.”

       Only then did she look at the mirror on the wall. She flinched. What a lovely mess she was. Her hair was tangled, brown with soil and full of sticks and shafts of grass from the reeds. There was a little bit of blood on the side of her face. As for the rest of it, she couldn’t be sure what lay under the dirty streaks covering her cheeks and chin.

       “Come.” His voice was gentle. “I’ll clean you up in the shower.”

       She gaped at him. “You’ll what?” she finally managed through dry lips.

       Instead of answering, he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom. He left her at a loss for words on the toilet seat while he turned the tap in the shower on.

       “Drink that.” He pointed at a glass of water and two painkillers on the side of the basin. “It will help.”

       Glancing at the pharmaceutical name on the white tablets, ensuring she recognized the brand, she did as she was told before sneaking a look at his broad back. Another flash erupted through her body with a burning sensation that lingered in her spine. Holy crap. Only when steam filtered into the cubicle, did he turn and kneel in front of her.

       “I’ll have to help you, unless you want me to dump you on the shower floor.”

       Help her? A mental picture of them in the shower invaded her mind and caused a fist of lust to punch her in the gut.

       “Yes, just dump me on the floor.”

       “Not a good idea. We’ll shower in our underwear. Alright?”

       He seemed to be very good at giving reassuring smiles as he gently lifted her arms and pulled her wet shirt over her head. Her skin burned under his fingertips.

       This was so not happening. Her arms went around her breasts. She watched as he dropped her dirty shirt on the floor before bending over her, his hands going to the waistband of her shorts.

       She wanted to protest, to pull away, to insult him even, but instead she found her body arching forward, obeying the silent command of his hands when he tugged on the clip button and pulled down the zip.

       “Lift your ass,” he said.

       Like a hypnotized snake dancing to the flute player’s tune, she lifted herself on her arms just enough for him to slip the pants over her hips, down her legs, and over her ankles. Thank goodness she was wearing her new push-up bra and matching French panties. NO. What on earth was she thinking? He picked up her injured foot to study it and, when he had felt his way around her ankle, his hand smoothed up her calf.

       “Such a pity to blotch such a perfect skin,” he mused. “You’re already turning blue.”

       He straightened abruptly and stripped the black cycling shorts from his narrow hips, pushing it over his muscular thighs, until it ended up on the same heap as her soiled garments.

       She was almost too terrified of her reaction to glance at his black briefs, but she couldn’t help the magnetic force that pulled her eyes in that direction.

       Fraya thought she saw his lips twitch, ever so fleetingly. Without another word he picked her up and carried her into the shower. He positioned her body against the wall and adjusted the spray of the water to fall over her shoulders. She watched with mesmerized fascination as he took a sponge and soaped her body. She flinched as his fingers moved over her ribs.

       He turned her sideways. “You’re blue everywhere,” he said, almost sounding angry.

       She gasped as his fingers trailed a path to the lower curve of her breast. The heat diffused in her body was now near painful. Watching her with guarded eyes, he moved the sponge over the sensitive mounds, teasing her through the fabric of her bra, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes. She had to make it stop. It took all her willpower to grab his arm and move it away.

       “I’m not injured there,” she snapped.

       He didn’t apologize for his wandering fingers. Instead he clasped her chin in his hand and tilted her head. “I’m going to wash around the wound. This may sting.” He took the shower nozzle from its hook and moved it to her head, smoothing back her hair.

       She uttered a cry as the water burned the cut where her head had taken a knock.

       “Sorry,” he said, smiling apologetically, his hand moving down and flattening over her tummy, as if he could sense her discomfort and spasms. The warmth of his palm sent shockwaves over her skin. They exploded and rippled to a part of her body that begged for release. She needed to get out of here. Her body shook, her knees battling to carry her weight. Even as she braced her back against the wall, moving away from him, her hips tilted forward. Her mind was going to dissolve. She could feel reason slipping away. She gazed up at him in awed shock, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. What was going on? That knock had crippled her brain.

       “Oh, baby,” he said, groaning and resting his forehead on hers, “if you tease me by pushing your thighs against me like this,” he looked down, “I can’t promise that I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

       She followed his gaze and sucked in her breath. “Oh. Sorry. I… You’re hard… I mean…”

       He laughed softly, but his voice was strained. “I’m turned on. And so are you.”

       He studied her, his eyes sharp and clever. Of course she was. It was a bit hard to deny when you had your pelvis pressed into a man’s private parts and your thigh draped around his ass. She tried to flatten herself further against the wall and turned her head away.

       “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Must be the bump I took to my head.” She looked back at him and whimpered. “Oh God, what’s wrong with me? What did you do to me?”

       He took her face between his hands. “I don’t know, but you did the same thing to me.”

       “I should go. This frightens me.”

       He kissed her forehead. A wave of intolerable want crashed over her.

       “I know, baby. Stay. Let me make it better.”

       “There’s something wrong with me. The fall, the knock, did something.”

       “Don’t lie about what you feel. You know we both want it. We’ve wanted it since I’ve laid my hands on you in that forest. I can see it in your eyes.” His hand stroked up her thigh, cupping her hip, sending a delicious shiver through her. “I can feel it under my palms.”

       She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She paused as another attack weakened her knees. “I can’t,” she whispered.

       His stare was imploring. Suddenly a dark, predatory look came over him. He took her left wrist and turned it up. He closed his eyes fleetingly and breathed in. His thumb brushed over the untainted skin.

       “You don’t have a mark. You’re not mated. Then why won’t you accept me?”

       She grasped for the final shred of reason that remained in her dazed mind. “This isn’t right. I don’t do things like this. I don’t pick up men and have … do stuff…”

       “But you want to. If the physical signs I read in your body are anything to go by, you’re suffering as much as I am.”

       “Just let me get out of here. Please.”

       He watched her for another moment before his look shifted. “Warmer?”

       She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

       He turned off the water. “Stay there.” He reached for a towel and draped it around her, before he tied another one around his waist.

       She couldn’t object as he lifted her from the shower onto the bath rug. She could only watch as he toweled her dry, carefully inspecting the marks the accident had left on her body.

       Finally, gently wringing the water from her hair, he bent down, and when she least expected it, brushed his lips over her jaw. It was almost her unmaking. Her hands found his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he scraped his teeth down her neck.

       She gasped, trying to push him away, the need and pain now unbearable. “You’re torturing me.”

       He immediately let go. “Look at me.”

       She almost cried out, torn between guilt and need as she fought for control, her eyes pinched shut, her only awareness the craving of her flesh.

       His voice drifted back to her. “Baby, look at me.”

       She opened her eyes reluctantly.

       “Does it feel like a thousand nails are shooting into your gut?” he said softly. “Like your skin is on fire and your insides are being ripped apart?”

       She blinked. “How do you know?”

       “Because that’s what you do to me. Your touch on my skin, it burns me alive. And it’s getting worse. Since we’ve left that damn forest it’s gone from a spark to a fucking intolerable fire. Just let me make it better.”

       “How?” she asked uncertainly. “How can you know what to do if we don’t even know what’s wrong with us?”

       He smiled wryly, his grin now almost a grimace. “Maybe it’s not that there’s something wrong with us. Maybe it’s just perfectly right.”

       “You’re not talking any sense.”

       “It’s not talking we want to do, and you know it.”

       She was close to tears now, biting back the pain as it hit her between her knees. “I can’t.”

       “I’m at the end of my control, seeing you suffer like this.” His voice held a warning. “Why won’t you? Tell me your reasons. Just let me assure you.”

       Oh, she had reasons, alright. She belonged to another. “The guilt...”

       His fingers enclosed on her wrist, the left arm, and brought it slowly to his mouth. When his lips touched the flesh meant for the mating mark, her eyes fluttered close. His wicked tongue licked over the spot, sending a shiver down her spine that had her arching her back. Her control unraveled when he nipped at her skin with his teeth. A cry escaped her lips.

       His other hand went to her hair, pulling back her head, exposing her ear for his lips. His words breathed over her, soft brushes of air. “What if you don’t have a choice? Would that take away the guilt?”

       “I don’t understand.”

       “If I tie you up, you won’t have a choice.”

       “What?” Her eyes widened but the fire had already pooled out to every crevice and peak of her body. Alarmed and surprised that his words had such an effect on her, she took a step back and flinched when she put her weight on her swollen ankle.

       His grip tightened in her hair. “You’re frightened. Of your feelings. We’ll play a game. I’ll tie you to my bed so that I can take you, do with you as I please. You won’t have control. And you needn’t feel guilty.”

       Her lips parted in both shock and excitement as she stared at him.

       His finger traced her bottom lip. “You have a perfect mouth. And a perfect body. You’re so small, so tiny.” He frowned. “How old are you?”

       “Twenty-seven,” she said, her eyes fixed on his hypnotic mouth.

       “Ah. Good.”

       She pulled her arm free. “I should go.”

       “How unlikely is it for two people to be out in a forest, in a foreign zone, in a rainstorm, on exactly the same day, at exactly the same time? How unlikely to feel, to burn, like we do?”

       She shook her head in a weak attempt at denial. “I don’t get what you’re insinuating.”

       “This was meant to be.”

       She shook her head again and opened her mouth, but he placed a finger over her lips. Convulsions of pleasure ripped through her. “Feel that. Feel what my touch does to you. I never do this kind of thing either.” His voice lowered. “I need you.”

       “Oh God. I can’t do this.”

       “You don’t have to do anything. Let me seduce you. I’ll take care of everything.”

       Her body was a trembling mass. “You don’t understand. I’m–”

       “I have to have you. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t. I swear to God, this is the first time I’m saying this to someone, the first time I’m feeling this … this … craziness. And it’s killing me. Give me your control. That’s all I’m asking.” He closed the space she had put between them. “I could take your control with one kiss. I know I can, because that’s how close I am to losing mine. But I don’t want to steal it. I want you to give it to me.”

       His closeness was like a powerful drug. She felt her strength falter as her need spiked. “I don’t like not to be in control.”

       “You only have to say the word, and I’ll untie you. I won’t do anything you don’t want, or like.”

       She was crazy, for sure, because for an insane second she conjured an image of her tied to his bed, his muscular body posed over her, and she felt her breath quicken painfully.

       “Trust me,” he said gently.

       “And why would I trust a complete stranger?”

       She looked at the door, but she already knew she wasn’t going anywhere. The strange thing was that she did trust him. There was no doubt in her mind he would let her hop through the door right now if she wished. The problem was that she couldn’t turn away from her bizarre craving. They both knew there was no way either one of them could walk away.

       Fraya guessed he had sensed her hesitation, because he took it as his cue to lift her and swiftly move into the bedroom, depositing her in front of the bed.

       His hands went to the clasp of her bra, while his mouth went to her ear. “There’s one condition. If you don’t intend to honor it, tell me now, and I’ll let you go.”

       She was beside herself with need. She was wild, panting. His hands smoothed down her back and she dug her nails into her palms not to wrap her legs around him and beg him for release. Her bra dropped to her feet. She craved him so badly she felt feverish. She wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against hers, but he held her at arm’s length.

       “Listen to me. This is important.”

       She was going out of her mind and he was still talking?

       “Open your eyes, baby. Just for a second. What did I say?”

       “A condition?” she said in a haze, forcing her eyes to focus on his face.

       “I don’t do holiday romances. Neither once-offs.” His hand slipped into her panties, forcing the elastic over her hip. “If I have you, I’m going to have you again and again.”

       She moaned under his hot hands. Scorching, burning, hands.

       “Please,” she begged. Nothing had ever felt this good.

       He nibbled at her ear. “Do you get it?”

       She was going to faint. “Yes,” she whispered. She couldn’t care one way or the other for his conditions now. She’d say whatever he wanted to hear, as long as he didn’t stop.

       “I’m going to tie you up now, baby, so that I can make you come in ten different ways. Do you understand?”

       She nodded.

       “Tell me you want it.”

       “Yes.” Oh, yes. She wanted it more than she’d wanted anything in her life.

       He paused. “Look at me.” He took her chin to aid in his command. “If you want me to stop, or to untie you, just say the word, and I will. Understand?”

       “Mmm.” She pushed her body against his and slipped her hands into his briefs, forcing it down his legs with hurried passion. She heard him gasp, and then she felt herself being lifted quickly, gently, and carried to his bed.

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The Decline of My Love

 I am very passionate about today’s subject. I am not going to be talking about anyone specific because I don’t roll that way but more of a general feeling I have been getting lately. I have been a reader most of my life. I have always had great respect for authors or anyone who even attempts to put words on a page. I have been writing these blogs for about 15 months and there are days when I want to bang my head against the wall. This is the reason I had great respect for authors. Don’t get me wrong I still have love for most authors but I have seen a disturbing trend lately.

A few years ago it would have been just a pipe dream to talk to an author but with Facebook and other social media it makes authors so much more accessible to the reader. Is this a good thing I think so in most cases. It makes the reader feel closer to the author. Now I will tell you as a reader there are a few authors that if they asked me to clean their house I probably would jump at the chance. Most readers would. I think some authors are taking advantage of the love readers hold for them. Now I am not bashing the authors I am just adding my two cents into a discussion I have had with multiple people both in the reading world and outside of it. I work with people who I sometimes respect and so I ask their opinions and then there is my family who some of which are readers and some are not. I have gotten views from members of the Righteous Perverts and other places as well so here goes my rant.

I hate street teams. I feel like a street team is buying readers affection and in a way it is using them. Most readers would give their left arm to help an author that they love. I get that an author has to promote themselves because most publishers do not. My thing is that with most street teams the author is giving swag away to the members of their teams. Yes, they do expect the team members to also give the swag away to other people and to share their links and websites on their Facebook pages. Do the readers like the authors or their books, sure they do. Do they want the author to do well and write more books, yes. But to me this promotes ass kissing. If you are receiving free swag then you are not promoting the author because you love their books you are doing it to get free stuff. If you have read a book and not liked it then you are in the position of promoting something that you don’t believe in. Some will pimp an author or a book to get more stuff. I know some authors want their fans to be honest with them. Yes, I do know that some of them have street teams but to me the members of the teams cannot be an honest judge of a book because they are in a way being paid to promote the book/ author just not in money. 

Now the actual promoting. Most of you know that I am one of the administrators of The Righteous Perverts. We are a group that is about 115 members of which half is probably authors. We do allow authors to pimp their books, blogs and contests in the group. We also expect them to participate in other threads as well. If they do not then just like any other member they will be removed. That being said we do not get free anything. We have had authors run contests in the group but it is rare that it happens. They usually just tell us that they are running a contest on their blog or site so that we know. We do not allow street team members to promote in our group either. To me this is the way an author should promote. Reach out to your fans and if they want to share your book or you as an author then they are going to do it because they love you or your book.

Now onto the fact that how many people are the street teams really reaching? I do know that some people have several hundred friends on Facebook but how many of them are readers? Next up if they are putting the bookmarks and things in stores or the library they are going straight to the trash because most places do not allow that. If you have pimped your author at your hairdresser or for that matter at your bookclub meeting then how many new people are you reaching? If you have mentioned the book or the author then you can cross those people off your list because if you keep telling them then they are going to feel like they are being hounded. Are you seeing where I am going with this? There is no way for anyone to really reach that many people. I think authors are better off spending their time and or money doing interviews with magazines or bloggers or book clubs rather than expecting 10 or 15 people to reach a mass audience. This is just not going to work and I think that in the end it will create hard feelings of other fans for the authors.

As a fan of several authors I sometimes feel like we are being ditched or that authors do not appreciate the people who have been with them from the beginning. I refuse to join a street team although I have been asked. I keep my friends list low on purpose. Most of the people on my list do not read so that kills me pimping out there. I work in a store and I do pimp there but I do it by suggesting authors or books even though our store does not carry them. I have lists already made up to hand out to people who are asking for help finding a good romance to read. I do something unique I talk to them, I find out what they are looking for, I tell them if I have met an author and how that author acted. How nice they were or how good their books are.  I do this free of charge because I want my authors to do well and to be successful in their careers. I do not expect the author to give me anything for it. I do it because I want others to experience the joys of getting lost in the pages of a book. I do it to get people to read. I know I sound like a librarian but books have been a way for me to experience things that otherwise I would never know about.  Yes, I have told people that they should read the book even if it wasn’t the author’s best work but I also am honest with people and if they ask me if I liked the book then I give them the truth. I tell them that this particular book is not the best the author has written but I do like the book. If the book sucks and someone asks me about it then I tell them that they should try another book by the author. This is the way an honest reader shows their favorite authors the love because they are not being paid to do it.

Now as my rant draws to a close the line forms to the left for my lynching and you can send me my hate mail in the comments so it can be repeated over and over again.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

Death

                                                                 

This blog is really about death. Everyone will experience death. Not only their own but those of loved ones. We all deal with the loss of someone differently. There will always be sadness when you think of them. Even time will not erase that feeling but each day you it will hurt a little less till you only remember the good times and you forget the bad. And with grief comes guilt. I am not sure why this is but no matter how much time you spend with them when someone dies you always think to yourself that I should have been around more or I should have told them that I loved them. Things like that will always haunt you but you have to get over it. Most people let death send them into a depression and the land of what if’s. This to me maybe the worst thing about dealing with deaths of people you love. Sometimes you just have to believe that you may have not spent enough time with them but they knew you loved them even if you didn't tell them everyday.

As a kid I spent a lot of time dealing with death. I was born when my mother was forty so all of our relatives were older than dirt to a kid. As a result I was being dragged to funerals as far back as I can remember. Now my family was Catholic so there was a lot of planning and praying at least at church. When we ended up at home though it was a totally different story.

I can remember sitting around and listening to the adults gossiping about whomever had died. I know that most people would call it disrespectful but they were dead so I am guessing they didn't mind. I can still see my Grandmother and all the old biddies sitting around the kitchen table just telling stories of everyone. Let me tell you these women didn't hold anything back. They reminisced about the good times and the bad. I heard things that a child should never know about their family or anyone else for that matter.

Sitting around and listening to these women talked taught me a valuable lesson. People may seem good and decent but in the end we all have our vices. Others seem like terrible people but they had good qualities as well. I learned that there are so many varying degrees of good and bad that you just have to accept that people are not perfect and sometimes they will find the wrong road and take it.

I know a lot of people find my family’s way of dealing with death as strange because we don’t sit around crying and wailing but that is just not our way. We always want to remember the ones who passed away but we do it in the most honest way possible. We all get together and do exactly what my Grandmother and her friends taught us. We sit down and talk about whoever died. We talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly. We never put the person on a pedestal and we know that in the end we cannot judge because when we die our family will still be doing the same thing except we will be the one being talked about.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

 Shmuttmeister

Fantasy Fix

Before you continue reading I should tell you that I just found this blog from over a year ago. Luna and wrote this and I miss her so I wanted to post it.

The Demented Duo are Back to Blog Another Day!! Totally sounds like a movie title doesn’t it. Today’s blog is brought to you by Pepsi, Lipton, Ruffles and Hostess. There that is our product placement, I wonder if we can get some free stuff from that promo. Yep, we are sugared up and it is late so this should be interesting.

No, we are not going to tell our deepest, darkest, twisted fantasies at least not in this blog. That may crop up in the porn blog though so keep checking back. This blog is actually a continuation of our wordy television blog. This is the blog we were going to write till we got sidetracked by our childhood tv memories.  

Fantasy what a wonderful word. So a cop who sees monsters, two demon hunting brothers (who happen to be hot) and prince charming go into a bar…………  yep totally sounds like a fantasy for us. Have you figured it out yet Miss Marple? No? Fine we will tell you what today’s blog is about, it is about fabulous fantasy based shows that we are fixated on.

The first show up for discussion is Supernatural. Wow, how the hot keep getting hotter. Season eight is done and the guys are just as hot now as they were when the show started. Now if you have lived in a cave for the last eight years let us tell you a bit about the show. Two brothers were taught by their father to hunt supernatural beings after their mother was killed by a demon. Did we mention that Dean (Jensen Ackles) and Sam (Jared Padalecki) are delicious.

Although Dean and Sam are the main characters there have been a lot of supporting characters that we have loved and hated. Their father was played by  Jeffery Dean Morgan (hot). Dad died when he traded his soul to save Sam. This brought Bobby to the show who became the surrogate father to the boys. He was their go to man on all supernatural info until they killed him off. They have been helped by other supernatural hunters like Jo, Ellen and Ash. Then there is Castiel the Angel in a trench coat( love him). 

Now what do the brothers really do you ask? They hunt down demons, vampires, and trace all weird beings and mysterious goings on. A lot of these are based on urban legends, folk lore, classic mythology and ghost stories. All of these things are accompanied by a classic rock soundtrack and Dean’s classic 67 Chevy Impala that he lovingly calls Baby.

Supernatural is one of the best written shows and they never take themselves too seriously. Every word is written with tongue firmly in cheek. This is never more apparent than in The French Mistake. If there is one episode that we would recommend to someone this is it. The show has all kinds of hidden snarky moments and if you are a faithful watcher you will catch them. Even though this show has scary moments it is not your normal gross out horror fest. We both put this is in our top 5 shows.

Next up for the Demented Duo is Grimm. Love, love, love this show. I checked and yep it is a three love show. Even though we are only on the second season I can’t imagine that we will ever fall out of love with Grimm. One of the reasons we love it is its originality. They have a totally new take on the monsters of the Grimm fairytales. This show is well written and the actors chemistry is amazing. David Giuntoli plays Nick a Portland cop who finds out when his aunt is dying that the family has a supernatural talent. They are called Grimm’s and their ability to see the true beings behind the masks that they wear as humans. Nick’s life is complicated because he has to hide the family secret from his fiancé Juliette(Bitsy Tulloch). Juliette has no idea of the monsters that lurk in their human skin or Nick’s ability to see them.

In the past his family hunted down and killed the Wesen otherwise known as the monsters from the fairytales. Nick is a different kind of Grimm, he asks questions to determine if the Wesen are a danger to humans or each other. He is helped in his job by his partner Hank played by Russell Hornsby. When Nick needs help with a Wesen problem he calls on Monroe ( Silas Weir Mitchell), what can we say about that Blutbad (the big bad wolf), other than we love him. He brings some much need fun to each episode.

There are several ongoing storylines, but they do not confuse you as a watcher. Captain Renard is played by the talented Sasha Roiz. He has his own secrets as a half Wesen bastard prince. We can’t wait for each new episode to air so we can watch it and then have a discussion on what we think is going to happen next.

The third and final fantasy fix is the fabulous sophomore show, Once Upon a Time. Another ensemble cast with amazing chemistry. The entire cast has dual roles in this show. The story starts with Henry an adorably precocious child played by Jared Gilmore. He is given a fairytale book that he believes is the story of his town Storybrook, Maine. He runs off to Boston to find his birthmother Emma (Jennifer Morrison) and convinces her to take him home to Maine. His adopted mother is Mayor Regina Mills (Lana Parrilla). When they reach the town Regina antagonizes Emma so she decides to stay in Storybrook.

The book was given to Henry by his teacher Mary Margaret (Ginnifer Goodwin). Henry believes that all the stories in the book are true and sets about convincing Emma to believe them as well. He tells her of the curse that the evil Queen Regina has placed on Fairytale Lands. The Evil Queen believes that Snow White betrayed her and that is why she cursed the lands. The only one who can break the curse is Snow White and Prince Charmings’ daughter.

The curse took the memory of everyone who lived in Fairytale Land and moved them to Storybrook. When Emma checks into Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, Mr Gold (Robert Carlyle) hears her name and it triggers his memory and he remembers his past life as the evil Rumplestiltskin in Fairytale Land.

Episode by episode you are introduced to both the current character and their fairytale counterpart. Henry must convince Emma that she is the daughter of  Snow White/ Mary Margaret and Prince Charming/David Nolan (Josh Dallas). She is the only one who will be able to break the curse and with each episode she believes a little more. Finally Emma believes when Henry is accidently poisoned and she and Regina must work together to save his life. Woven into the both stories you have the classic fairytale mixed with a new twist, and that is one of our favorite things about this show.  

If you want to escape reality for a while try one of our fantasy fix favorites. Or do you already have them all on your dvr?

Sinfully Sarcastic,          and the
Shmuttmeister               Lost Luntic

Multifarious

I totally used Google on this title. I wanted something different and I think I may have found a new favorite word. I thought I would write a blog on music. Most people describe my music as eclectic or just all over the place so I wanted a title that said that.

We have all read that a lot of authors listen to music when they write. I am not sure how they do this because I find myself singing and not writing. Music used to be a passion of mine that I am finding I am reverting too.  As a few of you know I am child number ten out of eleven.  That’s right I have nine older siblings.  What can I say my Momma was slow to figure out where babies came from.  But back to the subject at hand, growing up with all those older siblings I was exposed to a lot of music. My oldest sister who was in charge of babysitting was sixteen when I was born so music was something that was always around. I grew up with the music of the sixties and seventies. My sisters loved everything from rockabilly to surf music. My parents were hard core country fans but my Momma’s secret passion was the music of Big Bands. As I got older my brother’s influence kicked in, mostly in the seventies and then it was all about Kiss and other hard rock bands.

I never really got into music till I was a teen that meant the eighties, yep I was a hair metal junkie. I loved all the bands. We didn’t have the money for a lot of purchases so it was all about the radio. Yes, we did tape our favorite songs from the radio to cassettes (yes you can Google cassette and see what I am talking about). 

My very first concert was The Bay City Rollers, I do still love a Scottish accent. I was maybe seven and my sister Marina was going to get to go see them at the Illinois State Fair. I was devastated because I couldn’t go but my sister Sharon who was taking Marina couldn’t stand the crying so she gave me her ticket.  She made me a little plaid outfit (thank Gods there are no pictures of that) and off I went. I can remember standing in my seat just singing along with all the songs.  It was the best time ever for a seven year old!!!

I never had the opportunity to go to another concert till I was a teen. One of my friends from school was able to get tickets to see Duran Duran in St. Louis. I had never been to St. Louis at that point. OMG it was a shock coming from nowhere Illinois to a city. I couldn’t stop looking at all the buildings and more people than I have ever seen in my life.  Back to the music, I had so much fun it was insane. When we got back to school on Monday we were the popular girls for about five minutes. One of my favorite classes was choir. I probably can’t carry a tune in a bucket but loved to sing. I hated the song choices but whatever. The best part of choir was every Friday, the choir director did his own thing during that hour so he put on a mix tape of classical music. This was my first exposure to the classics and I fell in love with them.

As I became a young adult my music taste shifted to country. I became obsessed with Garth Brooks, Clint Black, Reba McEntire, and all the country artists of the nineties. I am not sure why the shift happened but I loved it. I was on my own somewhat (I shared an apartment with my sister) and I had my own money to spend. One of the happiest days of my life was when I found out that a small little town about 20 minutes south of Springfield was opening an old movie theatre and putting in a stage for country concerts. I saw lots of the big name artists there. In a five year span I probably went to 300 concerts.  When the owners retired the place closed down and my music seemed to fall by the wayside. I started to read even more. Television became my addiction. I seemed to lose interest in most music. There were no bands that inspired me to become a rabid fan. I am not saying that I didn’t listen to it; it just wasn’t a big part of my life any longer.

Then one day I was at work and at the time Target had tv’s playing video’s and music above the entertainment section. I heard something different and yet intriguing to me. It was a pop song that I had never heard. I asked my music man; Andy and he told me it was a new band called Maroon 5. I thought it was just one song that caught my attention but as the weeks went on Target added more songs by Maroon 5. I became addicted to singing them.  I ended up buying the cd. I became a huge fan. I then started to get back into music. I started to buy more cd’s and ended up with a huge collection. I started becoming a pop music girl again till I heard Nickelback. Then I moved on to hard rock again. Lately I have been hearing a lot of country being played so now I am back to being eclectic in my music choices. One of my boys at work, Zach made fun of my music choices and decided I needed to broaden my horizons. He loaded a thumbdrive with tons of alternative/rock songs for me. I am happy to say he has some good taste. One of my other boys, Lance cannot be out done so he is now loading more music for me to try out. I love that these boys feel the need to search out music for me because it is something I probably would not have done on my own. I now know who some of these new artists are before they really have any hits.

I think music says a lot about a person. Mine says I am all over the place and that I am open to all types of music. If I looked through your music collection what would I find and what do you think it would say about you?

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

The Joy Of ......

Nope,this is not about sex well I guess it could be but it’s not so nanananana. This blog is about skype. Yes, I will admit it I am a skype whore. I talk to a couple of people daily on skype. Why do you ask?? Because I am a yappy bitch. Most of the time I am chatting with Luna but lately I have been skyping with Mia. Why would I want to do that, because I feel sorry for her. I am just messin with Mia, in truth it is because skype makes it so much easier to multi-task. For instance as I type this we are both writing a blog, me for The Righteous Perverts Pulpit and she is writing one for her personal blog. Well kind of she is writing for a blog hop. This makes it easy for me to tell her she is doing a great job (even when she sucks).

I have found that skype is both a blessing and a curse. Let’s start with the blessing. I guess that means I have to be positive so this may kill me. I have had skype for over a year but it has only been the last couple of months that I have started my love affair with it. It started out as a way to screw over the phone companies who charge way too much to call The Great White North. So suck it AT&T.  I am I know I am getting ready to ramble on about the evil telephone companies but I have caught myself so back to the blog. I only have a few people on skype mainly because I don’t like people but I also think that it is because most people have not thought about using skype or are afraid of it. I know I was one of those who had no idea how to use it and really still don’t but I can figure it out and if not I am not afraid to call someone and ask. Now I guess I should clarify I do not use the video part of skype because I like to skype nekkid. Yep, that put a bad visual in your melon didn’t it. I am just messing with you……….. maybe.

Now I am going to talk about skype courtesy. Yes, I know most people use it but there are some that are oblivious to it. Please warn someone if you are going to be eating while skyping. If you feel the need to eat try to munch on something that is not going to be too loud. It is just kind of gross to hear crunching on the other end of the call. By the way if you are skyping and eating chips I just visualize that you are gnawing on a dog biscuit. Next up is leaving the computer while talking. When Luna and I skype we both take a break at the same time to refill our drinks or take a tinkle break.  See we have a plan when we skype, we are just good like that. Now the one I am guilty of is sometimes while I am yappin’ my sister will step into the room and ask me a question or just yell it at me. I will answer her or just flip her the bird depending on where she is. I try not to do it but sometimes it just happens.

On to my favorite thing which is bitching. One of the evils of skype is the fact that the call quality sometimes is bad. There have been many a time that while I am in the middle of watching porn with Luna and Mia that skype just drops the call. It is very annoying and I want to hunt down the techs and beat them. The other thing the we have had happen is that a commercial with randomly start playing. I have no idea what that is about. I have had to contact them for things like that but for the most part I just bitch about it and fill out the surveys. 

There you go that is my take on skype and I think that most people should use it. Now since I like to ask questions here is today’s. Are you a skyper or do you still spend a small fortune on your phone bill?

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

The Mia Experience

                                      

I have already told you about getting to know Mia and now I am going to tell you a little story about meeting her for the first time. Let me see if I remember the details.

I had been chatting with Mia for about six or seven months when the idea of trying to get together came up.  A group of us Righteous Perverts were talking about the Romantic Times convention and how it was in Chicago that year.  I live about three hours away and several other Perverts lived close too so we all decided to try and meet up there. Now if you have not been to RT I will just tell you that it is expensive. We all decided to do just a day trip so we could go to the signing but really we were all just looking for an excuse to get together.

I took the train and Sheri Vidal and her spawn, Mikey picked me up at the station and we headed off to the hotel. It was about a thirty minute drive and we just chatted away the same way we do on Facebook. Did I mention this was the first time I also met Sheri.  This is where things get fuzzy for me. I remember getting to the hotel and we headed up to our room where the fourth member of our party, Dawn was waiting. I called Mia and told her what room we were in and she had to go to retrieve her bags from another author’s room where she had stashed them when she arrived. While we were waiting on Mia, I called our good friend Kris Cook and let him know we had arrived. While waiting we realized that we had a smaller room that we were supposed to so Dawn went all sweet and forceful on the hotel and we had to move to another room.  Kris and cover artist Kendra Egert arrived in our room and we all started chatting. We were having a good time just yappin when there was a knock at the door. I went and opened it and there she was standing there looking a bit nervous. MIA ASHLINN in the flesh. She came in and hugs were exchanged and from that moment on there was no separating us.  She was just like she was online….not. She is actually kind of shy but you would never know it if you talk to her. I thought she might pass out when she noticed all the other people in our room.  I am sure it was a really overwhelming for her because I had already met Kris, Dawn, and Kendra and I was a bit nervous. Once Mia relaxed we had nothing but fun and she is very quick witted and says some of the most lovably dorky things. We all hit it off and hung out just being friends.  We went to the autograph signing and Kris kidnapped Mia and took her around to meet all these authors. I think she was a bit shell shocked by Kris. He is one of our favorite authors and one of the most wonderful people I have ever met but shy is one thing he is not.  The signing was fun and we met lots of our favorite authors and we fell right into our friendship like we had met a thousand times before.

We went out to dinner just the four of us and Mikey.  We were heading back to our room after dinner when the most exciting thing happened. We passed Anne Rice in the hallway. We all looked at each other and Dawn being Dawn she stopped and turned around and asked Ms. Rice if we could get our pictures taken with her. She was so sweet and her son was nice enough to take all the pictures we wanted.

After we calmed down we went down to the lounge and met up with some of the other Siren authors and just had a great time. We talked way into the night and did a few touristy things on Sunday before we all had to head home. We all had a great time and have met several times since that weekend and always had a great time.

That is the first time I had ever met Mia and maybe next time I will tell you of the time I slept with her.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

Surrounded But Alone

 So, I am sitting here at the St Louis airport watching all the people rushing around and I still have almost two hours to wait. I have noticed something and yes it is kind of funny that I am writing a blog talking about the fact that everyone here is on a phone or computer. I remember when you would actually talk to people. Now it seems that everyone is in their own little world. No one bothers to get to know each other or even looks up from their devices to engage the person that is sitting just inches from you. Hell, if I am close enough to smell your breath then the least you can do is smile at me.

I like to people watch and if I catch someone’s eye when they do glance up it seems like I am creepy by the look they give me.  Even if I am smile at them and pretend that I like them they are a little freaked out.  There are maybe 50 or 60 people sitting around me all of them are so consumed by their devices that they are not even noticing that their planes are boarding and then they are rushing to get on the plane since they waited till the last minute.

Now, I check my phone for calls and text but really I don’t usually do much playing on Facebook or twitter or whatever other social media is hot right now. I will admit I posted a few pictures this time.  I take pictures regularly but I rarely do I post them unless there is something going on. This time lots of people wanted to know where I was so I tried to keep them abreast of my adventure.

Sitting in airports is still new to me therefore I am still excited to look around. Since I travel by myself I want to share my excitement with the people around me and to find out all the little tricks to travel. But I am afraid to bother someone so here I sit a bit bored.

I can remember traveling as a kid, with my family, in the grocery getter, otherwise known as a stationwagon.  We would pile in and stop for picnic lunches at a park or just in the woods near whatever road we were on.  Those are some of my favorite memories. Just stopping somewhere and getting out and talking to strangers who happened to be around. They always made the trip more interesting. They would tell us about their town and anything that might be in the vicinity that we might find fun. We learned about their lives and everyone shared a fond memory of their own. Conversations like these with people made us all feel like we were connected if even for a minute with someone else in the world.

I miss learning about others and what makes them tick because everyone is wrapped up in their own lives.  All of the gadgets that we all carry help isolate us when they were originally intend to bring the world closer together.  So the next time you are sitting around an airport or a train station put down your devices and look around and I bet you can find someone to connect with if even for a moment.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister    

And Now A Word From A Guest Blogger

 (Tap, tap, tap) Is this thing on? Testing one, two, three.

Hi, my name is Robin and I would like to get out my soapbox for a minute and talk to you about reviews. That’s right, reviews. Those reader comments that authors have a love/hate relationship with.

As a reviewer for a blog, I take reviewing very seriously. Do I get paid for it? Of course not. In a perfect world, I could make a living doing it but no such luck at this time. What qualifies me to be a reviewer? First of all, I am a romance novel addict. I have been reading romances since my teens, which if you do the math, comes to more than 35 years. As a fan, I have read a lot of books and have a pretty good handle on what works and what doesn’t. I also have never had much of a problem sharing my opinion whether you’ve asked for it or not.

But I do have other qualifications. I graduated from the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Telecommunication with a Bachelor’s in Journalism. Sounds fancy, right? What that means is I know how to write and I take my writing very seriously. I even specialized in Public Relations so I have written more press releases and articles for newspapers than I would like to admit to.

So when the opportunity came about to write reviews for a blog, I jumped at the chance to combine my education with my passion. I went into reviewing a bit naïve. I thought that others had the same attitude to reviews that I did – professional, thoughtful and respectful. Wow did I get my eyes opened the hard way. I started to read other reviews and was shocked at many of them. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of reviewers that write quality, honest reviews that I admire. But it seems there are more that don’t.

I’ve seen reviews saying that they didn’t like a book because there was too much graphic sex. Gee, that would be why the book came with a disclaimer that there is a lot of graphic sex in it. I’ve seen reviews that say an author should find another career. Excuse me? Maybe that reviewer should find a different career. I’ve seen reviews that use profanity. I don’t understand. Can’t you get your point across without using profanity? After all, authors take their work seriously so we should take our reviews seriously.

Then I discovered that a lot of authors don’t read the reviews because of the mean and nasty things said. While I ultimately write my reviews for readers, I do want authors to read them because either I want them to know that they are doing a fantastic job and they should keep it up or because I have offered some profound advice (or at least profound to me) such as more dialogue or the plot was too convoluted to easily follow.

 I give a lot of thought and time to writing reviews so that they are clear and concise. I pride myself on writing professional, respectful, considerate reviews. In fact, if I have to give only one or two stars to a book, I will give even more thought and time to that review so that I can ensure it is never cruel or heartless. For an example, I had to give a book only two stars. This is what I wrote:

“My hat is off to the author because at least her writing pulled me in enough to have some emotions about this book. I certainly didn’t walk away feeling apathetic which would be even worse than disliking a book. I appreciate her efforts in trying to create a hero who could redeem himself, it was just too little too late for me. I still want to read more by this author. Hopefully the next in the series will feature more sympathetic characters.”

See, I was completely honest but still outlined what didn’t work while being respectful. It can be done folks. Another thing that many reviewers do is give spoilers in their reviews. Come on, seriously? That’s just crap. I have a simple rule in my reviews. If a plot point is not mentioned in the synopsis of the book then it won’t go in my review. The fact that there is a happy ending is not a spoiler because I think we expect that in a romance novel. But the fact that the hero is blind may be a spoiler. Just avoid spoilers in your reviews. It’s that simple.

Sometimes I want to smack other reviewers because of their mean and heartless comments. It frustrates me that they are giving reviewers like me a bad name. But there is a way to combat them and so this is where I challenge you to help out.

First of all, read reviews. It’s important so that you know which ones are good and which ones are bad. If you are on Goodreads, then start following the reviewers who write quality reviews. If you’re on Amazon, mark a review as helpful so that it ups our reviewer ranking. Mark the bad reviews as unhelpful. This will hopefully encourage the good reviewers to keep writing and tell the bad reviewers we don’t like what they are doing.

If you are an author, help out the good reviewers by promoting our reviews/blogs on your websites when we review your books. Get the word out about which blogs offer high quality reviews. And most importantly, don’t lump us in with those crappy reviewers.

If you can identify the bad reviewers from the professional ones, then you know which reviews to avoid and which ones to read. And authors please don’t be afraid to read reviews – even those that don’t give you four or five stars. You never know when we might give you some great advice or motivate you when you’re feeling down.

So that’s my sermon. Thank you for allowing me to get this off my chest. I feel much better. Now I will get down off my soapbox now and return to reading and reviewing.  Have a great day!

Robin Matloff Seitz