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Archive for March, 2010

Rampant by Saskia Walker

The world of geisha is all about sisterhood.

In my coming-of-age erotic romance, The Blonde Geisha, when my heroine enters the teahouse, she is assigned a “big sister.”  She is the “little sister” and observes the more experienced geisha as part of her training to become geisha.

Belonging to the Romance Writers of America is also about sisterhood. 

Each year members come together for a conference to talk about writing and the publishing business.  I was thrilled to meet fellow Harlequin Spice author, Saskia Walker, at the RWA conference in San Francisco. 

We talked about her Spice April 2010 release, RAMPANT, before we joined the Harlequin team and authors for a fabulous dinner.  I made a video of our talk and you can see it here:

Saskia Walker at RWA San Francisco

I’m excited to announce that Saskia is guest blogging over at NAUGHTY AUTHOR CHICKS on Monday, March 29th.

Be sure to stop by the NAC Blog Monday and meet this fabulous Brit!!!


The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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I didn’t always write erotic fiction.  I started out writing kids’ cartoons for Disney, DIC, Hanna-Barbera and other Hollywood studios (including a Japanese film company).  

When I was preparing for a teleconference with Heidi Richards, author, entrepreneur and business coach, for her Women’s Writing & Publishing Series re: writing fiction, I thought about my early days in TV and the valuable lessons that I learned from writing scripts.  

I discussed this topic in depth with Heidi in the teleconference, but I’ve included my 5 tips for writing erotic fiction for you at the end of this blog.  But first– 

How did I start writing erotic fiction? 

When I wrote a monthly column for a computer magazine called Sweet Savage Byte, who knew years later mainstream would meet bitstream, making erotic fiction available at the click of a mouse.  The Internet’s easy access and anonymity made it all possible.  

It also gave the opportunity for so many writers to bring out those stories from underneath their beds and see their works published.  

My erotic coming-of-age story The Blonde Geisha was published by Harlequin Spice during that time.  My first erotic fiction was then followed by several other titles that I’ve written for Spice as well as a non-fiction book for Stone Bridge Press, “The Japanese Art of Sex: how to tease, seduce and pleasure the samurai in your bedroom.” 

Here is the short version of my 5 Tips for writing erotic fiction that I learned from writing kids’ cartoons for TV: ***

 1.  Beat It: know your story beats 

2.  You gotta have heart. What is your emotional theme

3.  Dialogue is king (or queen). 

4. The white rabbit syndrome: getting into the scene as late as you can and out as quickly as you can. 

5.  Writing is rewriting

So the next time you sit down to watch your favorite TV show, watch it with the eye of a television writer: note the story beats, boil down the emotional core of the story to one or two words, listen to the dialogue, watch how they get in and out of a scene, then press rewind and watch it again. 

And don’t forget the most important tip of all when you write your story: let your imagination soar.  

It’s the magic that makes the elephant fly.

 

*** From the Inventing Women Website : “For access to the recordings of this and at least a dozen other interviews planned, you can buy a 6 week pass by clicking on the PayPal link below [on website]. Your investment for this series is on $17!”

 

The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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I’m excited to be part of a series of interviews on Inventing Women “Writing Series for becoming a Fiction/Romance Novelist.

I’ll be talking to author, entrepreneur and business coach HEIDI RICHARDS about writing fiction.

Did you know I used to write kids’ cartoons?  Find out which shows I worked for and what I learned from writing for TV that has helped me in writing fiction.

Join me at Inventing Women for a fun and informative teleclass on writing fiction.

 

Want 2 be a fiction writer? Attend this FREE call w Best-Selling Author Jina Bacarr on Mar 22 @ 6 PM EDT  New Time!

Tel:    641-715-3840         code: 361467#

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by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”

Did you notice the gleam in his eye and the snicker on his lordship’s face when he kissed you goodbye on this grand morning and left for his club?  Did he sport a green silk puff in his lapel, perhaps?  Or a green plaid cravat tucked under his portly chin? 

Then I chance to wonder if he was on his way to Madame Moiret’s on York Street on this fine St. Patrick’s Day, a lucky day for the wearing ‘o the green and for all the gentleman who visit there. 

Including his lordship. 

What is the attraction? you ask.  Green Guinness?  Green-eyed mistresses wearing green stockings and rose garters and nothing else? 

No, ’tis one plucky young Irish maid by the name of Darla O’Clancy. 

What makes her so popular, you wish to know, a maid no less? 

Before I tell you, I shall recount a passage from my memoir, The Blonde Samurai, about the similarity between the lucky shamrock and its counterpart in Japan, the maple leaf. 

“Content to be on my own, I took long walks in the late afternoon on the Bluff [Yokohama], strolling through dusky gardens with paths and stone lanterns warmed by the deepening sunset, a unique shimmer upon them glowing like tiny sparks among gray ashes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the season for the delicate maple trees with their seven-pointed red leaves, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I’d find an eight-lobed maple leaf, thought to be as lucky to the natives as a four-leaf shamrock is to the Irish.” 

As for this Irish maid, ’tis no doubt the name of Darla O’Clancy is bantered about in houses of high standing since she possesses a rare gem deemed to be a lucky charm by the gentlemen who visit Madame Moiret’s.  They descend upon her establishment on this day to– 

I shall not tell you just yet, but instead recall from where the lass came.  ‘Tis a small town in Ireland on the coast called Killian’s Cove, a town so small it has yet to find its way onto a map.  And a town so green it makes your eyes blink with wonder as you gaze upon its rolling hills filled with shamrocks for miles and miles.   

‘Tis said that the mother of Miss O’Clancy so loved these hills she insisted her handsome young husband make love to her there among the shamrocks.  And so he did.  Three times.  And each time, she bore him a beautiful daughter: Emmie, Lenore and Darla. 

And each lass, they say, bears a lucky shamrock birthmark in a most unusual place on her body. 

Emmie, the shy one, has a shamrock on the inside of her thigh near her sex.

Lenore, the brazen one, has a shamrock on her left breast.

And Darla, the plucky one, has a shamrock on her right buttock.

Now you know the secret of The O’Clancy Sisters, who left Ireland and came to London looking for husbands.  ‘Tis Darla I write about today and how she found work as a maid at Madame Moiret’s.  She is not one of her girls, but instead guards the pot o’ gold between her legs fervently, waiting for the right lad to find it. 

But once a year on St. Patrick’s Day, she drops her drawers and allows the gentlemen callers to rub the shamrock on her naked bottom for good luck.     

And where are Emmie and Lenore?  I dare not say, except that they are also Irish maids serving in Mayfair houses. 

Yours, perhaps?  I would check my household staff if I were you. 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 

 

The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”

I am delighted that you have returned today to follow my Pillow Book posting,  but I must admit that I dawdled, rummaging through the Valford Chest for my articles of make-up, wherein I discovered a most unique treasure I had forgotten that I’d given to my samurai.

Three pubic hairs.  Neatly wrapped up in red silk. 

And now that I have your undivided attention, I shall tell you how that came to be.

As I wrote in my memoir, The Blonde Samurai:

“We drank sake in small porcelain cups, me filling his cup, then him filling mine, both of us interacting in a rich, sensuous and cerebral ritual that was but a prelude to what happened next. I pray you will forgive me for the lack of words between us—we barely spoke, our need for each other so evident in our eyes. Intense longing swelled within me, but we didn’t kiss, since such playfulness was considered the tool of the courtesan. 

“I sipped the warm rice wine, relaxing as he stroked me with a rare degree of concentration and sensitivity to my needs, taking time to play with my nipples, a moment so sensuous I thought I could never put a cup to my lips again without his fingers pinching my brown buds. Rolling his thumbs over my hard peaks then pulling on them, making me squirm, and manipulating them with the same care I would later discover he showed toward testing the sharpness of his blade. 

“I remained still when he massaged my earlobes then my breasts with an oil I recognized as jasmine, its lightness and delicate fragrance luring my senses with a promise yet to come. He rubbed it between my legs and around my throbbing pussy lips, delighting in teasing me, then he poured oil into my cupped palm, indicating I should drip oil on the head of his cock. 

“I nodded then carefully rubbed it on the sensitive underside, then he pulled me closer, whispering to me. I followed where his eyes told me to go on his broad chest, his thighs, his cock, our bodies heating up as we teased each other, emitting sweat scented with a veiled fragrance. 

“The air dragged heavy with our body heat, his mood softening, mine becoming feverish. Throats parched, I poured more sake for him and he brought it to his lips, watching me. He drank greedily, the wine drizzling down the sides of his mouth, then he eyed me across the cup, waiting for me to drink the wine he poured for me. Teasing, wanting, I, too, drank quickly, eager to see what would happen next, when he surprised me by snapping open a large gold fan. Playful, laughing, fanning himself as samurai do in a society where the art of being cool is genderless. 

“I leaned in closer, offering my breasts for his touch. His eyes widened, then he rubbed my nipples with the fan, stinging them in a pleasant manner. I threw my head back, moaning, enjoying the sensation, wanting more. Giddy from the effects of the sake, I grabbed his fan and danced around him, slapping it across my buttocks, then rippling it over my pussy and teasing him mercilessly until he could bear no more. Speaking to me in a firm tone, he bade me lie down upon the silky white futon while he placed a pillow covered with shimmering gold silk under my head, its coolness soothing my flaming cheeks. 

“The real pleasure came when he parted my thighs and leaned over me, taking his time to observe me with a quality about him that transcended warrior and Occidental, but with a poetic sensitivity of the man himself. I jumped when he pulled on the light-colored hair on my pubic mound as if he were tugging on the strings of a lute, grinning at finding them so fine and silky yet wiry. I smiled back, then a daring idea came to me, inspired by a song I’d read about in the native works translated for me. 

“Without shyness, I plucked three hairs from my pussy and presented them to him as a souvenir. He laughed and I felt privileged to see a rare glimpse of emotion when his eyes softened, then he took my pubic hairs and wrapped them in a piece of red silk before sliding his fingers into me. It sets my teeth on edge as I write, thinking about his fingers probing me and though he found me tight, his touch intimate, he didn’t stop, but kept going, exploring without trepidation…

 

Why not give his lordship strands of your pubic hair tied with a pink ribbon to carry in his handkerchief?  You need not tell him from where they came…unless you want to. 

‘Tis a naughty idea that is certain to bring a smile to his face.

 

The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”  

I have in my possession a great treasure, dear lady reader, that will change the way you have sexual relations with his lordship.  I shall tell you what it is after I explain to you how I obtained this wondrous item lest you find it so shocking you dismiss my posting and go about your social calls and rant about what “that Carlton woman” is up to now.

I chanced upon this esteemed item of pleasure in a small shop in Kobé owned by an old swordsmith and former samurai.  A small trunk decorated in makie or sprinkled pictures, a process using gold and silver flakes and powder captured in lacquer to present narrative imagery.  I mention the shop because this fortuitous gentleman was most instrumental in helping me during my time in Japan (as you shall discover in my memoir). 

He advised me that the small trunk of which I speak had lain covered with dust for years in his shop (gloves must be worn when handling the delicate trunk) after a blusterous Englishman left it with him to inscribe his family crest on the key.  He never returned to claim it. (I have since learned that the Earl of Valford was lost at sea and his heirs have no interest in claiming anything that has to do with his lordship’s “Oriental folly,” as they call it.)

The Valford Chest boasts the finest Oriental craftsmanship and is purported to be from the sixteenth century.  It’s a black and gold lacquer trunk accented with crimson red paint in the most auspicious places, of which I shall speak presently.  Nearly every space on the chest is filled with intricate Oriental patterns of blossoms and trees.  Bridges and–

Beautiful ladies…nude except for their flowing kimonos flying wildly about them. 

Inside the trunk is the greatest treasure of all: a “Pillow Book.” 

A pillow book contains a beautiful collection of erotic woodblock drawings called shunga (spring drawings) that detail for the sexually shy the act of lovemaking in explicit detail  (including the lady’s sex with its plumpness and pinkness).  Each drawing is rendered with a pagan innocence that titillates as well as educates–

For a bride would receive a pillow book before her wedding night so she may be prepared to please her new husband.

And the courtesan would provide her customer with erotic pictures to entertain him while she engaged in her toilette before their lively games in her futon.  Many refer to this act as “reading with one hand,” something I am certain his lordship will be familiar with if you deign to ask him.

These prints showcase in their stylish paintings the courtesans, actors and perhaps even a geisha in amorous pursuits. No sense of guilt or taboo is allowed nor welcomed.  The paintings are rendered with colorful harmony blended in vibrant and succulent tones that delight the eye and stir the groin with their frankness.  

The artists portray the act of making love as a passion to be enjoyed to its utmost.  He renders his subject with kimonos flying, the long black hair of the lady swirling around the couple, the enormous genitalia of the gentleman impossible for any man to measure up to– 

Even his lordship. 

Curious?  I thought you would be.    

In my next posting come Friday I will reveal to you the erotic goings-on with my samurai Shintaro that fill my personal pillow book.   

You will return, won’t you? 

I pray you do.

 

The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of The Blonde Samurai”

In my previous posting, we discussed my romantic interlude nude under a waterfall with my samurai, Shintaro. 

In today’s posting, I shall enliven to engage in a similar pleasure with your husband or lover (or both at the same time if your tub is big enough) on the aspects of taking a naughty bath.

If you were living in Japan, dear lady reader, you would already be in the tub with his lordship since it is the custom for men and women to bathe together.

Nude.

Shocking, isn’t it?  And quite delightful.  Community bathhouses have existed in Japan since ancient times, though recently some bathhouses have since installed a railing between the men and woman, shielding the other sex from view.  Bathing together in the privacy of one’s own home, however, has not changed.

It is my intent to enlighten you about a spiritual and physical coupling that can enrich your marriage (or your latest affair).  All you need is a large tub and hot water and a discreet maid to fill the tub.  

Where do I begin?  Bathroom topics rarely if ever make the heart beat faster. 

Rather, it is your nose that suffers. 

When speaking of bathroom etiquette, I am reminded of the vast difference between the Oriental approach to ablutions and that of the West every time I catch a whiff of cinnamon and orange when I approach the boudoir in a London town house.  Such scents are often used to offset the unpleasantness of– 

The chamber pot.  Oh, what a ghastly smell…and one you would never find in an Oriental sleeping or bath area since other accommodations are used for one’s necessary place.  A separate washing area is also provided with small stools, pans, dippers and cloths.  And soap. 

You wash then rinse off the grime before entering the tub. 

Not a cumbersome clawfoot with a crack or two defacing the rim, but a square wooden tub redolent with the smell of cypress, filled to the rim with hot water and thin slices of lemony yellow citrus floating on top.  Rose petals or ginger root. 

Or sake.  The Oriental rice wine bath goes back three thousand years and not only eases sore muscles but stimulates circulation to the skin (wouldn’t it be wonderful to abandon your nightly ritual of applying raw veal to your face to improve the texture of your skin?).  Simply add two quarts of rice wine to the hot water and enjoy its restorative powers by soaking in the tub for thirty minutes. 

I must add that it is advisable to drink a cup of tea or a glass of water or fresh juice before entering the tub to protect against dehydration and dizziness (you won’t be able to blame a bout of dizziness in the tub on tight lacing, so drink your liquids ahead of time).  

Ease your way slowly into the steaming tub and begin what I can only describe as pure enchantment.  Besides relaxing and finding a sense of well being and balance while soaking in the hot water, the bath is a time you can spend in playful conversation with his lordship (this would be the right moment to broach the subject of your unpaid dressmaker’s bills).  

And scrub each other’s backs.  This is a charming occasion for simply being together without the interruptions of servants and nosy social callers.  Physical contact with each other is encouraged and you never know where it will lead. 

Have I yet convinced you to entreat his lordship to join you in the bath?  

I pray I have, for you never know what enticing underwater game he may decide to play with you…

  

The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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