Editing, for me, is like a dance. Sometimes I get a new partner and we have to figure out the steps, but more often I make my way back to former partners and I smile to see them again until we begin to dance again and I realize the music is different. This leads to stumbling and stepping on toes and keeping in mind that it's my partner's music and it's my job to study the notes and the rhythm so that when we begin to move and create the new choreography, everything slowly melds into something harmonious and pleasing not only to the eye, but the imagination. My current dance partner and I have been working for a while with a particularly tricky piece of new music, but I have to say that what seemed at first to be offbeat and out of tune has shifted with each note hugging the next and each step perfectly timed. It's exactly that moment that makes the bruised toes and stumbling worth it.
Happy Holidays to everyone in which ever way you celebrate and wherever you are.
I'm proud of everyone I work with here. I see that our authors are listed on Favorite lists or up for awards and this is only in the first year. We've only just begun to show the publishing world and the readers what we're made of... a decadent force to be reckoned with. Keep writing. Let's make this next year our most twisted and productive one yet.
Editing a story that, after about 7 chapters, forced me to skip to the end and take a peek. Best part? I still have no clue. These twists in storytelling are when I love my job. Very cool. Back to work....
When I see someone that stirs an interest in me, I picture them naked.
I don't mean naked as in smooth skin, tanned body, seductive smile. I mean naked as in a sweaty back and thighs, flushed skin, involuntary spasms with eyes shut tight and mouth wide open. Anything less is a waste of my imagination.
As a reader/editor/writer of erotica, I feel the same way. There doesn't have to be a sex scene in every single chapter. The kind of reader that is keeping a tally of sex scenes and positions in order to like a story is probably still in middle school and not allowed to read what we publish. Quality over quantity, people, and don't hold back when you do meld those hips together. It's not like sex is new and only recently discovered. The body parts are all the same, the ins and outs, the race for home base. So when you get to that point where someone reaches out and pulls a body (willing or unwilling) close, then do what you have to do and make the reader believe you really did re-invent sex. Don't hold back and remember that sex is messy, sounds weird at times, has its own unique aroma, and makes us lose control.
Synergy is one of my favorite words as an editor because when I see it unfolding in front of me as I read a new story, I know magic is about to happen.
Everyone knows there are critical elements to creating a story, but including those elements doesn't guarantee success. I know a car needs fuel to get anywhere, but if I put diesel fuel in my car I can kiss that ride goodbye. When I read a story there are three things that can either bring me to my knees, unworthy to read something so amazing, or have me blinking and wondering if I missed something.
Love them or hate them, the fact is that critics and reviews play an important part in the life of an author.
Like good and bad authors, there are good and bad critics. The critic that writes up an insulting review with demeaning adjectives and way too many exclamation points is just as annoying as the critic that writes a love letter review with happy/shiny adjectives and way too many exclamation points. The best critics and reviews fall somewhere in the middle.
My drug of choice is editing and I swallow it down until I'm sitting in front of the laptop in a dazed stupor; it's my favorite kind of high. Certain topics make my mouth go dry and it takes everything I have not to call in sick to work and just self-medicate with my favorite kinks.
There's the normal life where I work 8-5 and nod to the neighbors and limit conversations to the weather, work, news, sports, and current events.
And then there's the life filled with kink, dirty thoughts, and desires that seem even strange to me. I struggle with math, but I can come up with at least ten different filthy ways to describe a blow job without hesitating. They say that when you love what you do, it's no longer work.
Unexpected irony that sneaks up on those who deserve it the most is like sitting in a movie theater and knowing in the back of your mind that you're kind of hungry, but you have no money and the movie is too engrossing to step away from and just when you decide it isn't going to happen ... someone hands you a warm soft pretzel with the perfect amount of salt tucked into the twists.
Is there anything better than being in love? Is there anything worse?
It sounds like a fairy tale. The heart that races, the palms that dampen, the moment when the teasing stops and flesh meets flesh amid feelings so strong that you think you'll throw up just from the intensity of it all. It's so easy for that fairy tale to fracture and become less glass slipper and more poisoned apple. Is it any wonder it seems safer to never be touched by love at all?
I don't suffer from insomnia. I slap manacles on it and bend it to my will until the desperation for sleep manifests itself into a creativity that can only be unleashed once my defenses are down. Insomnia, pain, rainy days, and isolation pull words from me that seem almost alien in the light of day but the truth of it is ... without those words spilling like blood from a gutted wound, I would probably be spending my days in a drug-induced haze with other mental patients keeping me company.
We're into November now and I'm nearly done editing another novel. Days are getting shorter, the sun finds a different place in the sky and casts different shadows or patches of light around me, early darkness carries threats of those moments when the hair on your arms raises for no reason you can easily see and there's a promise in the air of doors slamming shut on me as I call out for help. The darker parts of me love this time of year.
It's a good feeling to finish editing a novel and send it back to the author to take up the next part in revisions. Just wrapped up a long one so I'm taking a little break here to sort out my thoughts before diving into the next one. You know how those people that go wine-tasting always have something in between the tastes to clear their palate? Well, I'm having sour cream and onion chips and coffee to clear my mind. Sometimes it can be chips and salsa with a Corona though ... I'm not rigid about it.
Never did a blog before that I know of, but this is as good a time as any to start. I'm Rylan, senior editor with Forbidden Fiction, and that makes me probably the luckiest person ever. Male brothels, whips and chains, women taking their sadism into the ring ... I'm getting a first glimpse at some of the best and kinkiest erotica written and it's a pleasure to work with these authors.
