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Glue YOUR BUTT
TO THE CHAIR

The ups and downs, small victories and major setbacks of trying to get your first book published. There will be laughter, tears and all that good stuff.

SAMPLE BOOK CHAPTERS

50 Shades of Grey, My Ass.

5/10/2013

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In all fairness to EL James, I have not read any of the "Shades of Grey" trilogy. I read a paragraph of an excerpt that was so poorly written, I honesty had no desire to read more, regardless of how steamy it was purported to be. And for those of you who have read the books and liked them, well... more power to you. I think if you're honest with yourself, James' great command of the English language is probably not the reason you're a fan.
In my quest to write chick lit, I've found it at times necessary to write a sex scene. I try not to make it gratuitous and I try to have some emotion behind the ripping off of clothing. These scenes in my first book, "Crazy Quilt," are fairly tame. I was afraid what Nana would think if she read them, so I might actually have been a tad timid in my descriptions of the act. But the more I've written these types of encounters, the easier it has gotten. Would you be shocked if I told you I actually like writing them now? If I come back two days later and read the scene and it still gives me hot flashes, then I know I've done my job.
What has been interesting to me, however, is to find there are several men I know who are quite good at writing sex scenes. I know! Who knew?
My friend David writes thrillers, and there's typically a good looking guy and a good looking girl in them, and well...things happen. I'd let my grandmother read his scenes and they always make sense in the context and flow of the story.
My new BFF Mark is a master of these scenes, and truthfully, his writing is more sensual than sexual. He's able to convey every emotion, touch, smell, sight, taste to the reader until you feel like you're right there...not a bad place to be, eh?
The big surprise is my funny friend, Warrick. He's a more casual acquaintance and we usually just verbally spar for fun. I finally got around to starting his book "Sleeping With God," which as the title suggests is about a man who, well...sleeps with God. Only God is a beautiful woman, who likes sex...a lot...and doesn't mind wearing a french maid's uniform on occasion. Knock me over with a feather.
So I guess the steamy, bodice ripping, fan your face type stuff isn't just the territory of us women writing chick lit. I know a few guys that could teach us a thing or two. Now that sounds like fun.
The more I've written these types of encounters, the easier it's gotten. Would you be shocked if I told you I actually like writing them now? If I come back two days later and read the scene and it still gives me hot flashes, then I know I've done my job.
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I know that girl.

5/3/2013

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In the spirit of full disclosure, I am a happy woman. I'm healthy, I have a wonderful husband, two kids I adore, and a job I like most days. Still...in a week filled with alarm clocks, laundry, carpool, pet food, making love, making meals, trash days and Mondays, it's easy to lose yourself. And sometimes you don't even know you're lost, until someone holds a mirror up for you.
And then you remember. Yes. I am an artist. I can create, paint, draw, write. I can have meaningful adult discussions about more than pop culture and my children's lives. I can think about a world outside my bubble. I can travel. I can love new people. I can change. I can evolve.
My friend holds that mirror up for me. And it is a gift. He's a fabulous writer. For me...one of the best. He challenges me. He's helping me to, as he calls it, "look without seeing." What is beyond the obvious? What is the back story of what your eyes are focused on?
The other day, I was taking kids to school at 7 a.m. This is what I wrote when I got back home. I sent this to my "teacher."

I glanced in my rearview mirror. There was a pickup truck behind me with a teenage boy and girl. He was beautiful in the way teenage boys can be. Nice smile, long eyelashes, strong chin. The kind of face you knew would be handsome in manhood. She wore big glasses, no makeup. Delicate nose, porcelain skin, long straight hair. They were both lovely. She sat pressed up against her door. Not his girlfriend, I thought, or she'd be closer. Probably a neighbor girl he gives a ride. She would say something to him, then look down shyly. He'd look down shyly then smile showing those perfect teeth. Then he'd look out his window. Then he'd look at her. She showed him something on her wrist. He smiled. Then looked in her eyes. Really looked in them. Then she looked down shyly. Then he turned and looked out his window. She's in love with him, I thought. Teenage love with him. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he feels something. She looks forward to these mornings I thought. She's sad on the weekends when she doesn't have these moments with him. I wonder if he knows that.

Got an A from teacher that day. I've got lessons for him as well. Different class. He's coming along.


I can create, paint, draw, write. I can have meaningful adult discussions about more than pop culture and my children's lives. I can think about a world outside my bubble. I can travel. I can love new people. I can change. I can evolve.
1 Comment

    Sheri Emery

    I've been a graphic designer for nearly 30 years and for some crazy reason I decided I wanted to write a book. So I did, and now I'm writing another. Looking for that one person to believe in me.

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