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Sunday, February 14, 2016

Be Afraid, Be very Afraid, But do it Anyway



When is a book finished? Probably when the author dies. Right now I'm doing what most of us are afraid to do, and that is taking a look at my major books with a fresh pair of eyes--my own. Sure some will go to an Editor at some point, but I can't believe what I'm seeing that's making me cringe at this point in time. Bloopers of course, in the category of misspellings, punctuation, and the extra word that I meant to delete. But misnaming a character on a later page? Putting backstory right in the middle of the action? Ugh! and there are many other ughs to numerous to mention.

What caused this? Rushing, not being in the moment, sleepy-eyed editing, woking nights and being tired, and just not paying attention. Worrying about the so-called business of writing and not the writing. Ugh! Get off that Facebook and Twitter marketing page. And absolutely stay away from the printshop with your orders for bookmarks, posters, and business cards until you've put your best book out there. Amazon forums are full of "Why is my book not selling? I've bought bookmarks and magnetic signs for the car!" Take a look at your book. I'm taking a look at mine. Ouch! It hurts! If you want to lessen the pain, do get an Editor at some point in the process.

Sorry. The picture had nothing to do with the subject.

charlesharveyauthor.com

Friday, February 12, 2016

On Writing



I wish I had paid attention in 2009 or whenever it was that the kindle debuted. I had a short story in an earlier amazon program. In around 2008 they started sending me emails to convert this story over to their earlier DTP (digital text platform) ebook platform. I had no idea what they were talking about and just ignored the emails. I thought the eReader phenomenon was some sort of fad. So yeah I wish I had been astute and jumped on the bandwagon sooner. October 2011 was a bit too late. Things were changing. The early adopters were moving on and getting deals from publishers. The one thing to focus on now is to just be a writer. Don't spend a lot of time on twitter and other social media. Focus
on writing the best books possible. Join writing local writing groups if they are available. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing more than critiquing others and being critiqued. If you can't find local writing groups, join an online community. Avoid schemes and scams. Even people who offer well meaning advice, generally only know what works for them and their genre. Self publishing is great if you can do it right, but don't leave out the possibility of connecting with an agent. I hope you're enjoying writing as a process and creative outlet. First and foremost make it about the writing.

#writing #books #authors 

charlesharveyauthor.com

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Maura and Her Two Husbands

An Excerpt From Maura and Her Two Husbands (18+)


Chapter 10
Bugs


Easy lay on his side propped up on his elbow with his head cradled in his hand. The thin sheet that covered him, traced every curve of his leg and ass. He faced the television and didn’t notice Maura standing in the doorway. On the TV, Tom and Jerry played their games of cat and mouse until Jerry bashed Tom upside the head with a mallet. Easy laughed. Maura cleared her throat. He turned and watched her looking at him.

Maura searched her head for words, but she found nothing but numbers and accounting formulas. What could she say to this man, she wondered?  She looked at Easy lying in front of her swaddled like a baby. She could have grabbed the African Fertility statue and clubbed him to death as he lay helpless. He had come between her and Sidney. But was that his only crime? Someone had let out his cornrows. His hair hung loose and almost touched his shoulders. A black Christ or a black devil? A voice in her head told her to touch his hair and he would take the curse away, and she would be healed. But Maura disobeyed the voice. She pulled off her top and flung herself across his body. He managed to turn over onto his back. As he turned the sheets wound tight around him imprisoning him more so. She ravished his face with kisses as he struggled to free his arms. Easy's lips reminded her of Sidney before he showered. She knew those lips had traveled over Sidney’s body in the wee hours of the morning while she slept fitfully, dreaming of the act she was now committing. Her thigh brushed his thick manhood. It was hard as a brick.

“Slow down, girl,” she heard him utter. But she did not slow
down. She thrust her tongue between his lips and tasted his pungent morning breath. She could not slow down. She could not turn around.

Easy managed to free one arm and he held her tight against his chest. With one hand, he grabbed her hair, pulled her face from his, and looked into her eyes. He released her and their tongues probed and teased like two prizefighters. Her hand grasped his manhood and squeezed until it felt like a rolling pin. Overcome with energy, Easy sprang up and caused Maura to roll over. He freed his other hand from the sheets, rolled on top of her, and pinned her arms. His lips traveled down her neck nibbling and probing the soft flesh. He kissed her collarbone before traveling to her chest. His tongue circled over each nipple until it stood up firm. She pulled his head close to her and he tugged and sucked her nipples like a baby. He stopped and looked at her. But she couldn’t stand to see her reflection in his eyes and she pushed him back to her bosom. She held him there and felt him tugging at the waistband of her warm-ups. She tried to pull his hands away, but they tugged her pants halfway her thighs. She wanted to kick and free her legs. But caution stopped her.

“Where are the condoms?” Maura asked between kisses. Easy leaned over and pulled out the top nightstand drawer. The box was as light as air in his hands. He looked inside and shook the carton as if a foil shield might be stuck to the sides hiding.

“Damn,” he cursed. Maura played with his lips, circling their thickness and inserting her fingers between them. “We don’t need no condoms,” he whispered. He rose and planted himself between her feet. He reached up and grabbed her panties and pulled them off along with her warm-up pants. He threw them 
off the bed, grabbed her feet, and sucked her toes. His mouth traveled down one leg, took a moment to breathe in her crotch, before traveling down the other thigh and back to legs and ankles and feet. When he journeyed back to her crotch, he lingered over her shaved pussy. Maura arched her back and pulled his head close as if she was going to pull him inside of her. She shut her eyes and imagined herself as the woman from Hustler--eyes walled back in her head between ecstasy and death. She looked in the mirror and watched Easy's ass and his balls hanging between his legs.

Suddenly she pushed Easy’s head away, grabbed his ankles and lifted his legs. Her only instructions came from the fire-scarred photo. She bent over Easy’s manhood and opened her mouth wide. His dick felt like a large pickle, rigid and ringed with veins. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her mouth cradled it until Easy grabbed a handful of her hair. He gently eased her head up and down until Maura caught his rhythm and swam on her own. Her eyes took in his hairy balls that looked like turkey gizzards and the nappy hair between his legs. She teased him until he grabbed her hair and sent her back to work. She felt Easy’s body tighten and the veins in his manhood grew rigid. He began to groan. He tried to push her away, but Mara would not turn away. She was stubborn and one-minded like a fish after a lure. She reminded herself of an old sow rooting after filth in the mud and she didn’t care.  Her pace quickened. Her throat ached. She looked at Easy. His eyes were closed and he breathed rapidly like a dying man. His hands gripped the back of her head. He was the fisherman who would not let go of the prize catch, even if it meant falling into the sea and drowning. He called Jesus’ name a couple of times as any sinner would about to release his soul upon the altar. In a moment Maura’s 
mouth was filled with hot bitter seed.

He wanted to ask her where she had learned to suck dick. But he felt the sound of his voice would ruin the moment. They lay there listening as the pest control guy sprayed the yard next door. The motor  driving his spray gun hummed, ebbed and rumbled depending on how much effort he exerted in driving away Maura’s spell. She raised up on one elbow and looked at Easy.

“I need a favor from you.,” she whispered.

 “What, little lady?” He kept his eyes closed.
The little lady sounded strange to Maura’s ears. She had always been called Maura. She had never had a nickname outside the names Myesha had called her when they were growing up. “I need you to talk to Sidney about the divorce, get him to change his mind.”

“Sidney is a grown man.”

Maura touched Easy between his legs. “And I’m a grown woman.” Her hand traveled over his manhood, over his belly, and caressed his neck. Her fingers brushed his lips. When he parted his mouth, her index slipped in and he sucked it. Maura’s 
cellphone rang feverishly downstairs. She let it ring while Easy sucked her fingers. He kissed her and tasted his seed in her mouth.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Easy whispered.


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