I’ve posted previously about the movie, Hysteria, starring the delicious Hugh Dancy and the brilliant Maggie Gyllenhaal. Hysteria is a light-hearted look at the rather unlikely invention of the vibrator in Victorian England. It premiered last fall at the Toronto Film Festival, and I have been looking forward to its U.S. debut ever since.

Hysteria will premier in the U.S. May 18, 2012. I shall have to see if Raven is available to see it with me. Or Bear. Alas, Tiger lives too far away to see it with me.

Here are two newer articles about the movie:

“Tribeca Dialogue: ‘Hysteria’ Director Tanya Wexler on Vibrators, Monty Python, and the ‘Thinking Woman’s Romantic Comedy’”

It’s a beautifully shot period piece full of Victorian flourishes and delightful costumes, it’s a romantic comedy with a fiercely outspoken protagonist, and it’s about the invention of a unique contraption that has changed many people’s lives for the better: the vibrator. It’s also about how women were controlled, locked up, and sterilized for not toeing the tightly corseted Victorian line — for being outspoken, for being emotional, for being unsatisfied with their status in society.

I like what Wexler says about feminism, when asked if Hysteria is a “feminist romantic comedy”:

So feminism, for me, is about equal opportunity, and then what you do and how you make your choices is then up to you and not up to someone else. And in that way, of course it’s feminist, but if you take feminism to be, like, men under the boot of women, well, no, I’m not really interested in that. But I think, weirdly, there’s been such an imbalance for so long that I think people expect that what you’re talking about is swinging the pendulum in the opposite way instead of centering it.

Go read the whole interview–there’s a great new trailer there, too!

The second article is an interview of Maggie Gyllenhaal, talking about sex scenes.

“Tribeca: Maggie Gyllenhaal on Sex Scenes From a Woman’s Perspective”

When asked why there are so few movies that really deal with female sexuality, Gyllenhaal responds:

I’ve talked to so many people about this. I’ve been interviewed about this all over the world and because of how they finance movies now, I’ve talked to women in Norway and Italy and Finland, Spain and all these women kind of say the same thing, which is there aren’t a lot of movies like this. And why is it even in all those different cultures where they’re not particularly prudish and open to talking about female sexuality? Why, when they watch the movie, is there a kind of hysteria?

And as a writer of smart erotica and sex scenes, I love her comments about what make sex scenes work for her:

So when you have the opportunity to do a sex scene and still be a real, thinking person in the midst of it, it can be an incredible way of expressing something about who you’re playing and something about the story.

The rest of the interview is equally good, so please check it out.

I am so excited to see Hysteria! Are you?

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I came across a wonderful article today from 2005, Who needs this when the classics are already bursting with sex?, about what makes classical music–and in this case, opera– erotic. It’s a very good read, in spite of the author’s whiny prudishness that creeps through in places. But it made me think–classical music IS very erotic…well, much of it, anyway. It’s erotic in the same understated way that 19th century British literature is–the sort of well-behaved veneer that barely conceals passions that make our modern-day sex symbols seem a bit overdone and artificial.

Consider the opera, Turandot, by Giacomo Puccini. The song “Nessun Dorma” is an auditory orgasm all by itself, but the entire opera is infused with sexual themes. If you aren’t familiar with the plot, here’s a good synopsis. Princess Turandot is a bit of a dominatrix–and a brainy one at that. Albert Innaurato, quoted on the Metropolitan Opera’s International Radio Broadcast website, says that the original author of the tale,  Carlo Gozzi, an 18th-century fantasist and ironist, meant the story as a

comic framework … to ask his audience a riddle of his own. What if, in some unimaginably exotic place, there was a woman powerful enough to treat men as they have treated women thoughout history? Gozzi’s Princess Turandot is more a lady professor than an ogress. She thinks of men with an intellectual’s contempt: they are sex-driven creatures, necessary solely as breeders. Not, it seems to me, an indefensible position.

Throughout the story, Turandot is the dominant one. Calaf wins her over eventually by his submission and his appeal to sacrificial love, an intriguing, almost-biblical role reversal. True, the plot is a bit disjointed and contrived in places–that’s rather common for opera. But you can’t miss the heat in the music.

What I really love about the opera, in spite of some of the story-telling flaws, is that even though Turandot is right–the men pursuing her really are doing so out of some sort of epically uncontrollable lust for her–Calaf turns that pursuit on its head. At one point, in the second act, he actually has the upper hand. He has correctly answered Turandot’s riddles, so according to her own proclamation, she must marry him. But I like to think that he didn’t want her that way–he didn’t want to “win” her as if she were a trophy. So he gives her a way out that could cost him his life after all.

Calaf is smart, too. He knows the erotic power of mystery, and he also knows how to get Turandot’s attention. Instead of playing the macho, conquering hero, and merely confirming her low opinion of men, he relinquishes his rightful claim and says that he will give her the victory–including the power to execute him–if she can guess his name.

Sort of a reverse-Rumplestiltskin, there.

He puts his life back into her hands, and that turns her world upside-down. A casual reading of the opera synopsis leads you to believe that she spends all night hunting down his name because she is so determined to get out of the deal. But if you look more closely, and pay attention to what the music itself is saying, you’ll see this is a woman who has met a man who doesn’t match up to what she expected. He put himself into her power, but doing so gave him a sort of power over her. She was used to being pursued, but now she is pursuing him, to understand.

In many cultures, to know a person’s name is to know the soul and the character of that person. I think that’s the point here–Turandot wants to understand who this man is that would refuse to play the game like every other man has played it. Who is he, really?

Isn’t that one of the things that drives attraction? It’s that quest to understand a person, to possess their essence, to know them intimately. It’s what lifts sex from just a pleasurable activity to one that is unbearably erotic. I think Turandot simmers with that sort of eroticism, and it’s what makes its key song, “Nessun Dorma”, so incredibly sexy.

And having a handsome tenor singing it doesn’t hurt, either: Alfie Boe, anyone?

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Just wanted to let my visitors and blog readers know that I am taking a small break from posting/updating/tweeting for a few weeks in order to concentrate on finishing Dress Rehearsal, the second book in the Order of Lilith series. My goal is to have it finished in January, but I need to make a big push to do this. This story will focus on a contemporary actress who is struggling with the decision of whether or not to perform a nude scene on stage with her best friend and fellow actor. Kamari and Daegal also are dealing with issues of trust and friendship as they confront the dangers of the evil Maron.

To hold you over, here is the opening scene of Dress Rehearsal. It will undergo some further editing/revisions before the published version, but I hope you enjoy the sneak peek now:

Dress Rehearsal SNEAK PEEK:

I watched Daegal stride into the circle of stones, the torchlight illuminating the still-bleeding scrapes on his naked shoulders and the gash from just under his wings to his hip. Only the slightest limp gave evidence that he felt his wounds at all. He was mad to go to her.

Mad.

The blood in my body turned thick, like mud, slowing my heart to a slogging rhythm. I fought to breathe.

Waiting for him in the shadowed-kissed light was Seren, the succubi Maron that had been his partner before the mal ludilo transformed her into the demon she was now. I did not want to look at her, but she was grotesquely beautiful, and I could not help myself. Her snarled hair twisted in feral locks around her face and over her breasts, like the mane of a wild animal. Like tarnished silver, her skin stretched over the skeletal angles of her body, her flesh a paradox of emaciation and lush sexuality. Her lips bore the color of fresh blood and they glistened in the torchlight. The tatters of her wings fluttered in the breeze like gray rags on the bony frame of a corpse long dead.

But it was her eyes that captured me, those pools of darkness that could entice a person to plunge to their deaths in the black terror of a thousand nightmares. Those eyes that could well be my future, too. Those eyes that had held Daegal prisoner for years.

He was aroused by her. I could smell his particular scent—rich sandalwood and myrrh—and he could not take his gaze from those seductive, deathly eyes. He was lost to me, but in the horror of Seren’s splendor, I could not look away or even mourn. He had never belonged to me. Our entire partnership had been leading to this moment, when he finally gave in to the dark craving for her.

For the blood madness.

He held out his hands to her, wrists together, and he lowered his head. She approached him cautiously, a glowing hot chain and manacles draped in her hands.

“You led me on a deadly pursuit,” he murmured.

In a blur of movement, she clamped the manacles on his wrists. He gasped and staggered from the pain. She wrapped the hot metal around his neck and he groaned. She tugged on the chain, pulling him close to her. “I could not risk a moon-flower poisoned sword.” Her voice was husky, laced with a hint of a growl.

“I didn’t chase you to kill you, Seren.”

She glanced toward me. “What about your Blessed One?”

He didn’t follow her look or even acknowledge me. “Tried to prevent me from coming to you. But she is nothing.”

His words slashed through me, but I could not respond. Not even a sound. Seren’s smile was ice and fire, terrible and irresistible. “Once you are transformed, we will take her together.”

“As you wish, love.”

His endearment earned another twisted smile. “You were always mine, Daegal.”

“Always.”

So this was how the madness began. This terrible, impotent pain. Give me death instead.

She shoved him onto his back against a flat stone, like a sacrifice on an altar, and pulled his arms cruelly over his head. He didn’t resist as she fastened the chains to the stone. When at last he lay spread before her, his magnificent body aroused and vulnerable before her, she swept a greedy glance across his form. With a sharp claw, she slashed her forearm, and black blood like oil bubbled from the gash. Before I could protest, she sliced Daegal’s neck and pressed her arm against the wound, mingling his glowing, living blood with her own death-infected blood.

I was to be denied even the comfort of tears. Now it was too late to save him—the blood madness would have him. And he welcomed it.

She trailed their mixed blood down his body. Then she followed the caress with kisses, straddling him with surprising elegance. Her hair covered her face and her wings hid her from my view, but I saw Daegal’s body convulse in a shudder of dark pleasure.

When she reached his cock, she circled it with skeletal, clawed hands. She dipped moisture from her own body, then spread it across the head. He gasped, his face contorted with desire. And then with pain as her magic pulled the pleasure out of him so she could consume it for herself.

I struggled against bonds I could not see, but I couldn’t free myself. And nothing I tried made me able to look away. I had no choice but to witness her torture of him, silent and powerless.

“You taste like fire, Daegal. And power.” Her tarnished skin grew darker, flushed with her own lust for him. She took him in her mouth, and slid her tongue down the length of him, cupping his sac with her claws.

He exhaled, shaking. “My fire is yours, Seren. Take it.”

Was his skin growing dimmer? Darker? I could not tell for certain in the scant light, but I felt the madness stirring in him. Or was it in her?

Maybe it was in myself.

She nipped him with jagged teeth at the base of his cock, and his body arched off the stone, in pain or pleasure I was not sure. “God, Seren, you’ll kill me.”

“I hope so, darling.” She wrapped her fist around him and slid her mouth and hand down his hard length in slow, tight strokes. Over and over until he strained at his bonds and writhed beneath her. The air was heavy with the fragrance of sandalwood and the bitter, charred scent of Seren’s lust. She tore his pleasure from him over and over until his tears mixed with the blood on his face and neck.

His voice grew hoarse from crying out as she gave him exquisite pleasure and then stole it away. She released his cock and slid along his body, covering him with herself. Capturing his lips in a searing and cruel kiss, she took him inside her. Whatever connection I thought I had to him was broken in that instant, and I wanted to die.

She thrust against him, kissing him and biting his neck and ears and shoulders. He urged her on, his pleas unintelligible and mangled.

“Pour yourself into me, Daegal,” she hissed. “Let me have all of you.”

His release exploded through him, and he screamed. She covered his mouth with her own and drank in his pleasure. His body stiffened, and the manacles cut into his hands. He shook uncontrollably, and she feasted on his pain and his ecstasy. Then she lifted her head and stared at me, the black madness in her eyes reaching for me, surrounding, compelling—

I woke screaming in the darkness of my obsidian home. Trying to control my screams, I gasped for breath and focused my gaze on the magic fire glowing dimly on the sleek hearth. I fumbled next to my fur pallet for Twip, my pet log. I grabbed him and pressed the quail-shaped lump between my breasts, rocking back and forth, shaking. The rough bark was the touch of reality that eventually calmed my violent tremors.

But once my screams quieted and my body stilled, I could not stop the tears. I knew the truth—it was no dream. Lilim, the creators of dreams, do not have dreams of their own. The images that invade our sleep are the echoes of things to come.

They are visions of the future.

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Sex Scenes: Capturing the Moment

One of the things I worry about as I write more erotica is that eventually my sex scenes will become stale. After all, sex scenes are kind of the whole point of the genre, right? Erotica is all about the sexual journey of the characters.

But I keep worrying about the fact that, positions and toys and gimmicks aside, it really comes down to a certain set of behaviors. What if I run out of interesting ways to frame those behaviors and my sex scenes become canned? I suppose the same reduction could be applied to almost any human experience, and yet we writers are still coming up with inventive, creative ways to portray falling in love, friendship, families. So I probably shouldn’t worry–but sometimes I still do.

I wrote a new sex scene recently as part of Dress Rehearsal, the second book in the Order of Lilith series. It’s a dream sequence that Kamari and Daegal are doing as part of an assignment to save two people’s lives. (Yes, in my story world, erotic dreams can save lives. Don’t you wish you lived there?) I showed it to my trio of best friends: my partner, Bear, and Tiger and Raven.

Bear got done reading it and looked up at me with a shy and sexy smile. “I didn’t know we were so romantic.”

Tiger read it and skyped me, “You’ve really outdone yourself this time. The writing is beautiful. I was there.”

I giggled to myself and thought…uh…no, pretty sure you weren’t. But I didn’t say that to him at the time. Of course, now that I’m blogging about it, he will find out because he reads the blog…hmm…

I got both of those responses for the same reasons. That old saying of “Write what you know” is actually pretty powerful. Not all the sex scenes I write are lifted from my personal life. But that particular scene was strongly based on some rather incredible sex scenes Bear and I have created, thanks to the fact that he has a habit of waking me up in the middle of the night. (Not that I’m complaining!) I used that sense of disorientation and sensual confusion to help me set up the scene in the book. I think that gave the scene an authenticity that came across, both to Bear (who really was there and recognized it immediately) and Tiger (who only felt like it).

It made me think about my worry of writing canned sex scenes. I don’t think that will happen as long as I remember to ground the sex scenes in a certain moment of time. A certain point of human experience. Every time a person has sex, it’s not just the physical action. You could do the exact same routine three nights in a row, and none of those experiences would be exactly the same because you bring everything that has happened that day into the encounter with you.

So as I’m writing sex scenes, I’m going to make sure that I bring into the scene that particular moment in time for that character. That may be the sense of disorientation that can happen when you wake up while your partner is caressing you. Or it could be the anticipation of knowing you can stay up as late as you want having fun because neither of you have to go to work the next day.

Or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe what the character is bringing into that moment is anxiety about how sex will change her relationship with her best friend (that’s the main anxiety in Dress Rehearsal) or maybe it’s that sex was the cause of shame and losing herself, and now she is determined to overcome that (as was the case in By Her Own Hand). 

No moment in life is identical to the next. So my theory is that if I fuel my sex scenes with those unique moments and let them be the foundation of the scene, each scene should end up unique and authentic. Each scene should make the reader feel as if they were there. Right?

I suppose, darling, we’ll find out as I go along. I tend to write a great number of sex scenes. I hope none of them will disappoint.

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I’m so excited to be taking part in the blog tour to celebrate the launch of Two Moons of Sera, by Pavarti K. Tyler. I met Pavarti on Twitter, and I have so enjoyed getting acquainted with her. Reading Two Moons of Sera was a real joy for me, and I am here today to share that joy with you!

Two Moons of Sera is a serialized fantasy romance. The heroine is Serafay, born as a result of cruel genetic experiments done on her mother, a Sualwet (sort of like a selkie). She also shares certain features of her mother’s captors, the Erdlanders. The two races are at war, and Serafay fits neither group, so she and her mother have lived in seclusion in a cove where the two worlds meet.

Despite the love and devotion of her mother, Serafay is intensely lonely. When she discovers another person exploring her cove, she is compelled to seek him out and make friends. She assumes he is one of her enemies, the Erdlanders, but he is kind and friendly. He has secrets too, and soon the war encroaches on the cove and throws the two of them together for survival.

This is the first part of the serialized story, and it weighs in around 20,000 words. This was my first experience with Pavarti’s work, and I truly enjoyed it. Her prose is fresh and vivid, with a wistful and timeless voice. The story world is fully drawn and enticing with characters that are easy to care about. The story at this point feels like “Island of the Blue Dolphins” meets “Tarzan” and infused with fantasy. I enjoyed meeting Serafay and her new, mysterious friend Tor, and I’m looking forward to their further adventures together.

If you’ve never tried a serialized novel before, Two Moons of Sera is a perfect one to start with. It’s only $0.99 and is available as an e-book on Amazon and Smashwords.

Also, you won’t want to miss the Two Moons of Sera publicity page. You can see a book trailer, take a TMOS Personality Quiz, and find out how to follow Pavarti on Twitter, or find her on Facebook and Goodreads. Helping spread the word about a book is THE best way to say “thank you” to an author you enjoy, so please do check out the publicity page and get involved!

Below is information on how to get your own copy of Two Moons of Sera as well as an important note from Pavarti.

Congratulations on the launch of your new story, Pavarti! Thank you for letting me be part of your blog tour. Anyone who wants to see where the next stop will be can view the schedule on the website.

• A Gift Bag full of fun-tastic swag
• A $15 itunes gift card
• Ebook basket including:
• Two Moons of Sera by Pavarti K Tyler
• The Dome by Nova Sparks
• Farsighted by Emlyn Chand
• The Mumbo Jumbo Circus by Jane George
• 10,000 word critique of your manuscript
• An Advanced Readers Copy of my upcoming novel Shadow on the Wall

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Have you heard of The Girl Effect? It’s the idea that if you give a girl in poverty the chance for an education, for a job, she can raise not just herself but her whole family out of poverty. The Girl Effect is the idea that an entire community benefits when women get a chance to improve their lives.

But it’s easier said than done for far too many girls in developing countries. Many face barriers to education or are pressured into marrying young. They may become at risk for HIV and end up trapped in the cycle of poverty.

So what’s the answer? Well, that’s what the Girl Effect is all about. Finding answers and calling those of us that have had opportunities to help be part of the solution. Check out the video below:

I watch this video, and I realize how incredibly lucky I’ve been. I had no problem getting an education. In fact, my parents expected me to go to college. I am a business owner. I picked my career, I chose when to get married and who to marry. I was privileged to pursue a writing career–just because I love to write. Getting to do what you enjoy for a career is a luxury.

I care about what happens to women–in our own country or around the world. I care as a feminist, but also as a woman. These are my sisters. They are my daughters and mothers. Even across the world, when they hurt, it hurts me, too, because none of us are islands.

So what can we do? It’s no good to sit around feeling guilty for accidentally being born to privilege. But we can give. We can support microloan projects. We can sponsor a girl to go to school. It’s got to be more than just Tweeting or blogging. We have to get in the game ourselves.

Today, October 4, 2011, there’s a blogging campaign. Between now and October 11, if you have a blog, why not put up a post about The Girl Effect? Once you put up your post, make sure you enter your URL here so everyone can check it out!

You can also give to The Girl Effect project to help sponsor education, microloans, legal aid, and other needs that are essential to give girls a chance to make a difference. I just did! It was easy and I didn’t need that snack at Starbucks today anyway.

You know, if you were one of these girls, if you were Anita and she were you, you’d want her to help you. You’d want her to care. You’d want her to do something for the people you love. She feels the same way. She’s just like you or me. She’s smart, she’s passionate. She has a lifetime of potential and possibilities.

She just needs a chance.

What do you think?

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I’ve been following the progress of the upcoming movie, Hysteria, starring Hugh Dancy and Maggie Gyllenhaal, here and here. Yesterday, the Spout blog on IndieBlog Network, posted their review of this movie that details, with great humor, how the vibrator was invented:

Director Tanya Wexler and writers Stephen Dyer and Jonah Lisa Dyer take full advantage, giving us a truly hilarious look at the oppressive scientific ideas that used to surround female sexuality. The based-on-true-events story is that of Dr. Mortimer Granville (Hugh Dancy), who is having trouble finding work in the squalor of London’s old-fashioned hospitals (which are portrayed with the dark sensibility of “Monty Python and the Holy Grail”). He finally ends up working for Dr. Robert Dalrymple (Jonathan Pryce), an expert in female hysteria. The basis of the practice, built around this now-defunct sexually-associated diagnosis, is *ahem* manual stimulation. Initially Dr. Granville gets along just fine, developing well-intentioned feelings for his superior’s morally fibrous phrenologist daughter Emily (Felicity Jones). Yet her sister, the passionate suffragette and social activist Charlotte (Maggie Gyllenhaal), throws everything off-kilter.

Everything comes into question when Charlotte’s feminist ideals muck up the very idea of hysteria. The “condition” is even (or perhaps most) disturbing conceptually. Any complaint on the part of a woman can be considered hysterical, especially if it makes a man uncomfortable. The idea that she just needs to be given a manual “paroxysm” to calm down is particularly unsettling. Yet this is the 1880s, well before women even had the right to vote. Any serious confrontation with such institutionalized sexism is inevitably going to be rough, no matter how convincing Charlotte’s arguments may be.

(Read the full review here.)

Check out the Hysteria movie trailer below:

What do you think? Will you go see Hysteria? It’s a release I’m DYING to see!

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I was browsing for a romance novel a couple of days ago at Barnes and Noble, and I found myself hunting in vain through all the alpha male heroes for a hero I actually LIKED. I wasn’t having much success. The endless string of dominating, rude, selfish, thinking-with-his-prick “heroes” was annoying. I am well familiar with romance novels and their conventions, but that night, I just wanted something different. Or someone different. And I couldn’t find him in any of those books.

For clarity’s sake, I had better define what I mean by “alpha male” since there are many definitions and descriptions out there. The Alpha Male hero of most romance novels is absurdly handsome, usually powerful, whose hands are as good at pleasuring women as they are at beating someone to a pulp. Alpha Male heroes are usually emotionally repressed, arrogant, egotistical, and bad at genuine conversation. They tend to think they should dominate whoever they are around, and they view women as sex objects to be bedded as quickly as possible. They like to act in a sexually predatory manner, and are portrayed as dangerous (in the best way) to the ladies. They usually have some sort of dysfunctional past the author uses as a justification of why they are such assholes for most of the book. Alpha Male heroes are nearly always reformed by the end of the book because of the woman who captures their hearts and minds and helps them find their better natures.

I do enjoy the battle of wits and the humor and sexual spark of the best romance novels. I enjoy watching the relationship blossom, and I love a good sex scene. But having to wade through pages and pages of assholery on the part of the Alpha Male puts a big damper on my enjoyment of the book.

Where is the Beta Male in all this? I know, I know–the Beta Male is the object of scorn and derision in our culture. He is portrayed as everything from the loser guy living in his mom’s basement (though that’s also referred to as Omega Male) to simply the Nice Guy that everyone enjoys talking to at a party and nobody remembers afterwards. He is seen as lacking confidence, as being “boring,” and as rarely getting the girl.

This is an unfortunate box in which we’ve put male heroes (and real life men, too). The true Alpha Male type guys I have met have not been pleasant to be around. Few of them are good relationship material because of that self-centered, arrogant problem they have.

So what’s the appeal? Some researchers and anthropologists think women are “programmed” to seek an Alpha Male because we long for protection and to be provided for. I’m sure some women do feel this way–it’s what we are culturally conditioned to believe we need, even if it’s not really true in modern society.

But I think there may be another reason the Alpha Male holds such appeal. In romance novels, the Heroine has such beauty or wit or gutsiness or individuality that she is able to make that Alpha Male desire her.  So great is his obsession that he becomes willing to change and be a better man. This is ultimate control and power–the ability to control a powerful person through simply being yourself. It is this myth that may be the most seductive thing about these stories–the idea that “just by being myself, some man will desire me so greatly that he will transform himself into my ideal just to win my approval and affection.”

Women in real life can rarely change an Alpha Male. This isn’t a bad thing, actually. Personal change and improvement should come, not to please another person, but because we are convinced within ourselves that it is the right thing to pursue. All our relationships do change us, for better or worse. But it is usually a disaster to begin a relationship with the hopes of changing the other person into what you want them to be. When the woman realizes she actually CAN’T change her Alpha Male, that’s when the relationship starts falling apart.

What I’d love to see in more novels is not Alpha Male or Beta Male, but real males. Real guys that stand outside and beyond the Alpha Male/Beta Male cliches. Flawed, yes, but maybe not in the stereotypical ways. It would be nice to read about heroes that know how to communicate, who do value women for more than just sex, who are socially conscious and…humble. Who are willing to listen and consider the ideas of other people, instead of acting brashly on their own. Back in March 2011, Heroines With Hearts blog had a similar discussion. If you read through the comments, you’ll see that many of them voice the same wish–for heroes that are a blend of Alpha Male confidence and action, but the genuine kindness and consideration and gentleness of the Beta Male.

What do you think? Alpha Male, Beta Male, or Real Male: What kind of hero do you want to see more of in romance novels:

A) Alpha Male all the way, baby! It’s just a story, and I can separate fantasy from reality, so let me fantasize about all that protection/providing and control/changing stuff because it sure feels great!

B) Beta Males rock! Nice guys don’t get enough credit. They maybe don’t have the pizzazz of an alpha male, but I am more attracted to gentleness and kindness than I am to macho chest-beating.

C) Down with Pigeonholes! Give me Real Males that are a blend of alpha male and beta male, or who defy classification. This is the 21st century, after all, so we value people being themselves, in all their glorious individuality and uniqueness.

Comment below, darlings!

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Ebook cover design is one of the aspects of indie publishing that is most intimidating to many of us authors. People really do judge a book by its cover–even if it’s an ebook. The ebook cover image has to convey the tone and genre of the book, and it has to look professional. In fact, looking professional is one of the most important things for an indie author because many readers are still expecting sub-quality work from us. If our ebook cover looks amateur, readers will assume the writing is also amateur. A bad ebook cover can be death to an ebook.

So when I decided to try designing the By Her Own Hand ebook cover myself, it was with fear and trembling. I have done a limited amount of graphic design work for myself–postcards and business cards, my website, etc. But I’m far, far from being good enough to be an official “designer.” I work in Gimp because I can’t afford Photoshop yet, and every step along the way I am scurrying to find brushes and tutorials to help me get the effects I want.

But part of the allure of being an indie author is the level of control I have over every aspect of publishing, including the ebook cover. I wanted to try creating it.

My first attempt was so bad, I didn’t even keep it. The font I used for the author and title were hard to read, and the graphic was oddly situated and styled. So I scrapped it and tried again. My second result was much better, and is the one I’m currently using as the ebook cover:

By Her Own Hand is the first book in the Order of Lilith Series. It has a Regency England element, so I bought a Regency-esque stock photo from Hot Damn Stock (LOVE them!). I liked the subtle sensuality of the hand placements and the overall elegance of the photo. I added several other 19th century details, such as the title font and the background pattern.

The ebook cover is very pretty. But as I showed it to my friends and other writers, the feedback was all the same. Pretty cover, but where’s the MAN? If it’s an erotic romance, shouldn’t there be a muscly, manly torso on the cover? They thought maybe it was a lesbian story, or that it was a story just about a woman’s own “self-exploration.” Apparently, they didn’t think that just one woman on the ebook cover was hot enough to compete with other erotica and erotic romance titles.

I didn’t want a man on the cover because one of the themes of the story is that a woman needs to own her own body and sexuality. In today’s world where women are bombarded with the message that their value lies in their attractiveness to other people, I thought this was an important theme.

But as my friend Raven commented, “Do you want to be a purist about your theme, or do you want to sell books?” She had a good point. If no one buys the book because the cover isn’t right, then no one is going to see the theme anyway.

Another problem is that this cover, at thumbnail size, is difficult to read. The title font is hard to make out and the author font didn’t contrast enough with the graphic. This isn’t as much of an issue on a print book, but it’s a big issue for an ebook cover.

Additionally, the main plot of the series is about a succubus and an incubus–making this a fantasy or paranormal series. The only hint to that with this cover was the series logo featuring the tattered wings. When my friend Tiger suggested that I rework the book description to focus on my main characters, Kamari and Daegal, instead of their human assignments, the paranormal element became more obvious. And that made the ebook cover even more out of step.

So it seemed time to consider an alternative design. But I was nervous–Kamari and Daegal have WINGS. Tattered, glittery, iridescent wings! And silvery, glowing skin!

What a damned mess.

But I was the indie author that wanted control of my book. So I had to put my big-girl panties on and get busy figuring out how to create those fucking wings.

I downloaded a new image from Hot Damn Stock, and started collecting brushes from some fabulous graphic design artists (listed at the end), and dug in. Hours and hours, and two all-nighters later, this is my finished product:

If you click on the Hot Damn Stock link above, you can see the picture I started with. I did a lot of alteration to it, including giving Kamari flowing purple-black curls, and doing some minor cosmetic surgery to enhance Daegal’s pecs. I think the wings came out all right–not too bad for my first attempt at creating magical wings.

This version of the ebook cover now depicts a crucial moment for Kamari and Daegal from the story. The darker tone and the wings clearly convey “paranormal” and I’m hoping the pose (and yes, the hint of male torso) convey “erotic romance” or at least “romance.” The typography passes the thumbnail test on the author and title. And I had fun adding in the crackled grunge texture for an additional edge.

With the image itself having wings, the series logo wasn’t necessary, and that left me with a bit of room for a tagline instead. Raven and Tiger and Bear all love it.

But what I really want to know is this…what do YOU think? Which ebook cover do you like best?

A. Girl-power Regency or

B. Sexy Paranormal?

Which one should I go with? Your opinion makes a difference in which ebook cover I use, so please comment below! Thank you, darling–you are a tremendous help to me.

Special Thanks to these artists for their brushes that helped me create this ebook cover and the original version:

• Obsidian Dawn: hair, eyelashes, wings, light ray, glitter

• Falln-Stock: smoke

• Hawksmont: dark wings

• Mouritsada Stock: flourishes, including the ornament I use in the damask background on my site and Twitter

• Luizalenora: border ornament

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This week’s free online read, By Her Own Hand, Part 8:

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Each week, I will be posting a free online read, excerpted from By Her Own Hand. This free online read is my gift to you, darlings. Feel free to link back to these sections on your own site, but if you post any excerpts from them, I must be credited as the author and receive a link back.

–Thanks, Freya.

By Her Own Hand, Section 8

© 2011 Freya Duquesne

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In last week’s free online read, Kamari and Daegal bickered about how to approach their first assignment together. This week, Kamari makes an interesting discovery about Daegal’s past…

“As soon as I finished this last rune, we inchronate. We’ll become connected with Miss Morely’s timeline and her earth’s chronology until we complete the assignment or fail. Nothing we do or the humans do can be undone. We can’t go back and fix things or change them. You do understand that, right?”

“Do I look to you like I’m fresh from the lava?” I glared at him with a confidence I didn’t really feel.

“Don’t be flippant, Kamari.” His tone was low, a hint again of a growl. “Three nights. That’s all we can do safely. The first night won’t be so bad—we won’t have merged too terribly much with the humans’ minds. But we will feel their emotions and sense their thoughts. The second night, we will merge even more, and we’ll begin to lose a sense of who we are. The Maron will be hunting for us, and if we cause too much emotional shock or distress to the humans, they’ll find us and lie in wait. The third night, they will find us. And we will barely remember who we are. Only the deepest and strongest control will keep them out and bring the dream through safely. Three nights.”

He wasn’t being patronizing. His face was so earnest, so intent, I couldn’t find it in me to resent his lecture. “I know all this. I was well-taught, and I was best in my class.”

He nodded. “I don’t want us to fail, but I won’t go past three nights.”

I shivered. We heard rumors of what happened on nights four and beyond. Only the best-skilled and strongest Lilim could survive being inchronated to a human for that amount of time. They became weak and vulnerable, completely swallowed by their human’s subconscious. But those that did survive created dreams of such power and sensual beauty that they became the stuff of legends in Chantrea.

“Have you ever gone past three nights?”

At first, I didn’t think he would answer my question. His eyes grew dark, and the shadows of horrors he’d experienced swirled in their depths. But then he gave a tight nod. “Six.”

I gasped. “My god, you could have been executed!”

“Not until night seven.” His voice was even, controlled by a death grip on his emotions.

The Chantrean Council threatened to put to death any Lilim dumb enough to inchronate beyond six nights—that is, if they lived long enough to be executed.

“At least you survived.”

He flinched at my words as if I’d struck him. His eyes became black as a nightmare. A sick realization twisted in my gut—I was a fool. A careless, insensitive fool. Yes, he had survived. But I would bet my own wings that was the night his partner had not survived. Night six was the night he had killed her to fulfill their pact.

“I’m sorry—”

“Not as sorry as I.”

The words were spoken so quietly, I first doubted I’d heard them. But then he blinked and seemed to force the death from his eyes and clear the shadows from his face. I knew better than to say more, and I tamped down my compassion, in case he would sense it and think it pity.

Thoroughly in control now, he completed the runes with calm force. The gateway flooded with silver light. The gossamer threads reached into the workroom and wrapped around Daegal and me. The bonds tingled and stung against my flesh. I had never inchronated before. I had not been warned it would hurt.

Our bonds tightened, pulling us toward the gateway. I held my breath, trying not to panic. I glanced at Daegal, suddenly grateful to have a partner with so much more experience. He gave me a carefree smile and wink, as if trying to convince us both this was nothing but a lark. I lifted my chin and threw back my shoulders, returning his smile with one of my own. I’d never let him out-bravado me.

The webbing contracted, shivered, and created a tunnel of light stretching back into the black mists beyond. Daegal extended his hand. I stared at it a moment, reluctant to leave the safety of the atelier.

And then, like sweet juice from a berry, his excitement burst inside me, too. I took his hand, and it was hard and warm. He stepped through the gateway, drawing me alongside him, into the darkness of dreams between the worlds.

Did you like this free online read, darling? Come back next week for Section 9, or visit one of these online retailers to find where you can purchase the entire book now.

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