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You are here: Home / Archives for Trent Evans

30 Days of Kink – Day One

April 17, 2012 By Trent Evans

Well here’s something you don’t see everyday: a guy answering the 30 Days of Kink questions. I told my friend Sadey Quinn that I would follow along with her own postings and answer the questions too.

Now it’s time for me to pay the piper.

Some tough guy I am, eh? This is a lot harder then I anticipated. What the hell, and this may ramble some, but here goes (nobody reads this blog anyway)…

Dom, sub, switch? What parts of BDSM interest you? Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.

My name is Trent Evans and I really, really dislike labels. What, I have to choose something? OK, fine. Dominant, I guess – but you could easily throw in Master, Sadist, spelunker, etc. OK, maybe not spelunker, but still, the labels bother me.

I will put it this way: I enjoy control. Controlling a submissive. Imposing my will on her. There, that’s crystallized enough, I think. I love both physical and psychological control. Here’s where the sadist streak in me comes into play: I am a lifelong spanko (giving, not receiving). Love it, in all its forms, from the simple hand to the cane. It’s all great, amazing. “Impact play” – eh, that term leaves me cold. Just call it spanking, paddling, caning, whatever – and people will immediately identify with it, love it or hate it.

Spanking is so tied up into physical and psychological control (not to mention emotions) that it is the quintessence of imposing your will on another. You make her feel that pain, feel that humiliation (if that’s part of what you’re after; it certainly interests me!), feel the arousal – you just make her feel. It’s as much a visual/tactile enjoyment as it is a psychological one. You tell her she’s to be spanked that evening, and you make her wait all day to find out how, where, with what.

You make her feel.

Trepidation, fear, arousal, pain, anticipation; her sensations and emotions are as important, if not more so, than getting to lay your hand all over her curvy ass as you spank her. There is little that’s more enjoyable in life than watching your sub orgasm, crying out, writhing in spite of, because of, the sensations you’ve made her experience. It’s something maybe only doms (or switches) understand. It’s even better than getting off yourself (not that that isn’t awesome or of paramount importance either). But breaking down her shields, making her surrender to sensation, making her face the real her – the basics of what makes her tick. That my twisted friends is control, and nothing is better. OK, that’s not quite true though, but “Doms/Masters/Sadists” aren’t supposed to say it in public. There is one thing better:

Love.

(Don’t let it get out that I said such a blasphemous thing.)

Maybe that’s getting too far into the whys of things, but there it is, straight from Trent.

You guys bored yet? Don’t answer that.

Now there are aspects of BDSM that I love that may not translate as well from fantasy into real life. Here’s a short list:

Sexual slavery? Awesome.

Humiliation?  :::Pichard voice::: “Engage!”

Pony play? RAD.

Pet Play? Check.

I am fascinated, fascinated, by the concept of consensual non-consent. Think of it as consent by plebiscite, if you will. But I emphasize the consensual part of the equation. It absolutely has to be something she wants, and she has to choose it unequivocally – once.

Really, really difficult to pull off morally (or legally, really), but that one is straight from the darkest, fevered recesses of Trent’s fantasy bank.  Probably TMI? Well TFB (too fucking bad).

I’m going to end the list there, because there is a lot more to it and I think the next 30 days will be better places to share some of this.

:::I can’t believe I am sharing this. I need a drink :::

What do you think? Shut up Trent? Or do you want to hear more?

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Filed Under: Trent's Thoughts Tagged With: 30 Days of Kink, random thoughts

BDSM, Fantasy – and Vampires?

April 11, 2012 By Trent Evans

One of the best things about being an independent author is the freedom to write whatever you want, when you want to, the way you want to. I love many things, so for my second release I combined three of my loves: fantasy, BDSM, and vampires. Is this a risk? Sure it is; cross-genre fiction always is risky. But I don’t care. I had a blast writing it. If even one person agrees with me, and loves it too, then I will consider this one a successful release.

So, here it is: A Lady and a Maid. This is a 40K word short novel of longing, sex, pain, blood and even romance. This is erotica, but this also has a love story (or the beginnings of one), and my hope is that it will appeal to both women and men. Please have a look at the sample on Amazon (different than the excerpt posted on this blog) and let me know what you think. I hope you like it!

My paranormal erotic novelette A Message of Love will be running as free for the next two days (April 11-12) and A Lady and a Maid will be discounted as a new release.

Next up, projected for a second week of May release date, is a new sub-genre for me (no paranormal this time). It’s a long novella called The Change, and it’s going to take some courage for me to release this one into the wild…

Now, back to writing.

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Filed Under: The Odyssey Begins Tagged With: books, New Story, short novel

Minimizing the dreaded Distraction, and the wonders of the Interwebz

April 3, 2012 By Trent Evans

As writers are known to do, my mind wanders (sometimes it wanders even when I’m not writing), and when it does I have to set my WIP aside. Sometimes things just can’t be forced, and you have to let the noodle meander a bit. You meticulous outliners out there should try it once in a while:)

To avoid giving my brain a chance to wander, I typically try to minimize distractions while I write. Now, while I don’t pull a nutty Jimmy Cameron and lock myself in a room for two weeks straight with nothing but a stack of notebooks and a box of pens, I DO go to some lengths to focus.

TV? Forget it.

Phone? I literally put it in another room – too tempting.

Ditto the Kindle Fire (the urge to read, even while I am supposed to be writing, is sometimes overwhelming).

What about the internet? Now there is the sticky wicket. Most writers swear by turning it off, or using a non-connected computer, or even writing in :::horrors::: longhand. Me, I can’t do it. The internet has to be there. I need it to answer any number of questions that pop into my head while I am writing (or thinking about what I am writing). It is the greatest boon to writers since the invention of movable type.

As great as the internet is, it’s also easily the biggest distraction for a writer. And, I will be honest:  I have blown a ton of time on the interwebz. I shudder to think what my productivity could be, without its seductive, addictive allure. Writers are by nature endlessly, almost pathologically, curious, and the internet is like crack for curious souls.

At this point, you’re asking yourselves: “Where the hell are you going with this, dude?”

OK, here is my point. Sometimes despite the time sink that are the Interwebz, something makes everything worth it. It happens when you stumble upon a great website. I write erotic romance and erotica. Sex is on my mind a lot. Wow, what a newsflash. Sometimes, I think I’ve read/seen/done it all. Then I come across a site like Taken in Hand. Since my particular area of concentration is BDSM, it seemed inconceivable that I wouldn’t have stumbled across this site long ago. I hadn’t, but I think I know why: it’s not really a site about BDSM per se . What it most definitely is though, is an absolute fucking treasure trove of inner thoughts, fears, and desires of female submissives. I began reading the riveting accounts of real submissives, and before I knew it, 4 hours were gone. POOF. We’re talking HALO levels of time acceleration here; for you non-gamers that means time just goes by really, really fast.

As a “dominant” “sadist” “master” whatever I am (hate labels), it’s like getting the keys to the steam tunnels under Disneyland. We big bad wolves get a peek into the workings of the mind of that most alluring of creatures, the female submissive. You may think you know all there is to know about submissives, but I assure you, when you read the accounts on this massive site, you will learn something new. The subs on the site almost uniformly express their submission as part of a committed heterosexual relationship (there is NO gay/lesbian bashing though), but the funny, scorching hot, sometimes poignant postings and articles will fascinate anyone, regardless of their current relationship status. The insight, humor, wisdom and honest, positive sexuality discussed there is like nowhere else I’ve ever seen. I can’t rave about it enough.

Why do I talk about this in a writing blog? I don’t really know. I just love the place, and for other erotica writers, especially those coming from the dominant’s perspective – there I go labeling myself – they will find it an amazing, edifying, and arousing (both physically and intellectually) place. Click over to it, just go. Now. You won’t regret it.

What do you think? Are there other discussion sites similar to Taken In Hand that you’ve come across?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: On Writing-, random thoughts

What to do, what to do…

March 28, 2012 By Trent Evans

A Lady and a Maid is now in edits. I’m exhausted from it, and I am only about two thirds of the way done.

Writing, yes; editing, HELL NO.

One of the things that I’ve been struggling with (aside from the aforementioned slog of editing) is the categorization of this particular story. I don’t know about other erotica writers, but I really am torn between whether to take a story down an erotic romance track, or pile on the chains, crops and gags and scream down the erotica road in a jacked-up truck with a “Fuck Happily Ever Afters” bumper sticker on the back.

With my second (soon to be) published work I’ve tried to have my cake and spank her too. How’s that for a perverted mangling of a worn out idiom? Look, I’m tired, OK?

The story began as a single scene, and then – as my depraved mind is wont to do – a whole cascading series of ‘what-if’ questions started. Eventually, I just started writing as the questions kept coming. Writing this thing was almost 100% seat-o-yer-pants, which is highly unusual for me; I typically use notes and a rudimentary outline to string all the notes/ideas into a coherent story arc. With this one it was about as non deliberate as it gets; it just came out. Now it will be up to you, dear readers, to tell me if it sucks or not 🙂

There is one other issue that is a potential landmine with this story: F/F sex. This has some (of course of the D/s variety), which is something that is less common in erotic romance –  though well represented in erotica. I included the F/F interaction for three reasons:

  1. I thought it was hot, and I hope the readers do too.
  2. It’s actually part of the characterization of Lady Miriam, one of the main players in the story.
  3. See #1.

Now, where I have tried to straddle the two genres is with the love story between the characters of Owen and Sophie. I really wanted to tell their story, while hinting at the details of the larger world they inhabit. I hope I’ve at least partially succeeded.

I set out to write this as an erotic romance, but I allowed myself to follow the story where it took me. It ended up erotica, and fairly harsh erotica at that. I hope I haven’t managed to alienate my female readers with this, but the story had to be told the way it is.

So, on the off chance that I am not the only person reading this blog, I have a few questions for readers: Do you think F/F can have a place in erotic romance, as long as it’s clear that that type of content is included in the story? Do you wish there were more F/F scenes or relationships in erotic romance? Lastly, do you think there is a difference in how F/F D/s is handled as opposed to M/F D/s? What would you like to see in F/F D/s?

Excerpt from A Lady and a Maid

Westwood Manor

“What’s she done to deserve this Miriam?” Sandra, her rouged lips pursed, glanced over at her friend.

Miriam strolled over from her great mirror and stood close to her friend, Miriam’s shapely dark-haired form a pleasing visual contrast to the slender fair figure of the Countess.

“Oh, she still has this silly idea that she gets some say as to what, or more to the point, whom she lays with,” the handsome lady said, wagging a long beringed finger up and down dismissively. “She’s being shown the error of her ways.”

“I see. Not content with her station in life is she?”

“Not exactly,” Miriam said, staring down at the subject of the conversation. “She serves passably well, especially at table. But she still can’t get used to the fact that this is a house run by a woman, and that as a servant of the house, she is expected to serve that woman’s needs – all of them.”

“Missing a boy back home or some such?”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but the girl seems to be averse to women. Sad, but true. Isn’t that right, dove?” Miriam said, raising her voice slightly.

“Ah, not a good attitude to have here at House Westwood, girl. You’d be wise to shape up quickly,” the Countess said, her voice soft.

“She has this odd notion of only being attracted to men, and says she’s never been with a woman before!”

“How selfish of her! What a bizarre thing for a girl to think Miriam!”

“Isn’t it though?,” Miriam said, lighting a few more candles about the dim room. “It’s as if she thinks it matters that she’s only attracted to men. Servants do just that – they serve. She just needs to come to grips with the fact that a major part of her duties here in my house, indeed the most important duty, is attending me. Until she gets that through her thick skull, I am just going to have to train her in proper behavior at this manor.”

“Well, I can hardly make anything between these bars and the fact that she’s tucked away in this corner, love. Perhaps we might get a better look at her?” The Countess’ clear blue eyes sparkled brighter in the fire-lit bedroom.

“Oh, I suppose we can Sandra. She’s in there to think, to decide if she’s going to accept the truth of things.” Miriam stooped down, her movement graceful, her hands smoothing the wrinkles out of her deep green silk dress. Her friend, clad only in a sheer white gown, lace décolletage only partially concealing jutting breasts, knelt down as well, face slightly flushed, eyes intent.

“She’s only been in there a half hour. It’d be a shame to spoil the lesson by letting her out too soon,” Miriam said, considering, fingers toying with the golden lock affixed to the hasp.

The ‘she’ in question, was a naked girl. She looked perhaps nineteen or twenty, and was very fair of skin (though the low light betrayed just how fair). The girl was in a small cage ensconced in a corner of the noble’s luxuriously appointed bedroom. The round steel bars of the cage were closely spaced, dull gray in color. She knelt, or to be more accurate, was forced to kneel tightly over, her body practically bent double, the cage being scarcely more than three feet in height. She faced away from the two ladies, so it was impossible to make out much more of her countenance. A thick rope of her dark brown hair was wrapped casually around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage.

“You couldn’t get some more light over here could you Miriam?” the Countess asked, keen on getting a better view of the girl.

“Oh certainly, Sandra.” Miriam retrieved a large glass-shrouded candelabra and set it on the nightstand next to the forlorn little cage.

The splash of warm yellow light illuminated the pale, broad orbs of the buttocks planted solidly on her heels, the vulnerable soles of her feet visible beneath the lush curves. In the cramped confines of the tiny cage, her posture prostrate, the dusky crack of her bottom yawned open, clearly exposing the wrinkled whorl of the anus, the perineum, and the dark, fur shrouded contours of plump labia below.

Indeed the cage was such a tight fit that the girl’s ample bottom pressed against the sides and back of the enclosure, flesh slightly bulging into squares within the rigid confinement. The bars crossed the bottom of the cage too, and one could see that they must have galled the smooth planes of the girl’s shins terribly.

Even in this closely crouched position with the girl’s bosom pressed to her thighs, Sandra could see that the captive nude was possessed of full breasts; their soft, pale curves bulged invitingly out to either side, contrasting with the delicate pattern of the girl’s rib cage.

The girl’s arms were bent behind her, reaching up and around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage, the delicate wrists clasped in metal cuffs. Sandra could see that the girl wasn’t entirely naked either, though what she did have on hardly afforded any protection from the gaze of the two noblewomen.

The cuffs were clipped to a fine, silver linked chain stretched taut to a ring embedded in the back of a broad belt. This belt clasped her lower waist, stretching round to pass just above the dimples of her bottom. The black leather was tight, the flesh bulging slightly both above and below, and made the swell of the girl’s voluptuous bottom even more pronounced.

Sandra thought she knew with some fair certainty why this particular girl was subject to the attentions of her friend Lady Westwood. The majestic raven-haired mistress of Westwood Manor was well known among her wide circle of friends for her feverish penchant for well-fleshed lasses, especially those blessed (or cursed) with a big, round bottom. She knew Miriam would make the girl wish she’d never been blessed with such bountiful buttocks.

“Ah, those shoulders must be a trifle uncomfortable by now Miriam. How about having her out for a spot? Just to get a look at what you’re working with,” the Countess said, turning her head to her friend.

“She has a lot longer to look forward to in there, but I suppose there won’t be any harm in having her out for a little tea-time stretch. She’ll no doubt be grateful for it.” Miriam said, winking at her friend.

The willowy mistress gazed at the prostrate servant a moment longer; a fingernail leisurely drawing a light furrow into the skin of one of the girl’s buttocks. Miriam fished a necklace out of her deep cleavage, from which (much to the delight of the Countess) hung a tiny golden key. She opened the small lock at the hasp, carefully tucking the key back between her breasts.

After unwinding the rope of the girl’s hair from the crossbar, Miriam unclasped the chain from the ring at the back of the girl’s belt, letting the chain slide down to the floor of the cage. She then pulled the girl’s arms straight up behind her. This allowed her to swing the heavy top of the cage up on groaning hinges. As the girl’s hair fell to one side of her back, the dark leather of two straps could be seen emerging from around the front of the girl’s face. The straps diverged, one reaching around the base of the skull along the hairline, the other snaking higher up the back of the skull, submerged in her thick hair.

With a hand clasped firmly to one of the girl’s upper arms, the olive color of her hand clashing with the creamy whiteness of the prisoner’s flesh, Lady Westwood helped the girl straighten. The fingers of Miriam’s other hand lightly played about the crimson tips of the plump breasts as the girl stood, her movement halting, and stepped out of the cage. The Lady used another key to pop open the metal cuffs, hanging them on one of the cage’s bars.

The girl immediately started to whimper and twist, her knees rubbing together, toes wiggling, rubbing the abraded skin of her wrists. Her soulful green eyes were near to overflowing with tears, the lips pulled back in a rictus by a thick black rubber-coated bit clenched between white teeth. A bit of saliva could be seen at the corners of her mouth, as well as at the lowest part of her bottom lip. Straps crossed her cheeks tightly from either end of the bit to wrap around the back of her head.

“Pins and needles, dear. She’s been in there a bit, as you know,” Miriam said matter-of-factly in response to Sandra’s questioning look.

The Lady made no attempt to comfort or assist the girl, merely content to observe her discomfort as circulation returned fully to her lower limbs. After a minute or two, when the girl’s wriggling had subsided, Miriam guided her over to the foot of the huge, richly appointed bed, and bade her sit upon the magenta duvet cover.

“Don’t get too comfortable now Sophie. Once the Countess has had her look at you, it’s back in your cage. You still have a lot to think about, and you aren’t getting out of your quiet time that easily,” said the Lady. She stood before the sitting girl, her arms crossed below the swell of her bosom.

“Yes, I see why you picked her Miriam. Very nice indeed.” The Countess pressed on the girl’s arms clutched protectively around her bosom. The bright pink bands of cuff-abraded skin on her wrists emphasized the pallor of her breasts. The Countess’ fingers moved up to trace the length of the bit, touching the girl’s soft rose lips.

“Might we pop this out too Miriam? These lips do look enchanting, and I can’t really see them pulled back so.”

“Of course, my dear,” Miriam said, unclasping the buckles at the back of Sophie’s head. The bit loosened, and fell away trailing dark straps, landing with a wet slap on the girl’s pale thigh. The corners of the unfortunate girl’s mouth were inflamed, almost blood red. The straps left fading furrows crossing both cheeks. Both women watched a moment as Sophie worked her mouth and lips to try and return some sensation to the numbed flesh. The bit had apparently been just as galling as it looked.

“Hands up now. No, behind your head. You know better than to cover up,” Miriam said, her dark brows furrowed momentarily. The nude laced her fingers behind her head, widening her elbows at a barked command from the Lady.

The girl was well-built, even tending toward powerful. Strong shoulders contrasted against the slender muscles of her arms. The breasts were full, hanging heavily on her chest. The nearly smooth areolae were wide and brown, accented with prominent, dark nipples. The belly was soft, but smooth, the inky depth of her navel a pleasing counterpoint to the pale planes of her abdomen. There was the slightest curve to her belly down to the rather prominent curls adorning the pubis. Her hips flared wide from the narrow waist, and she looked as if she might have to watch her weight when she was further along in years. But now in the prime of her youth, her hips merely advertised her luscious femininity.

The Countess glanced at Miriam. “May I?”

“By all means Sandra; it’s what she’s here for,” Miriam said, smiling at her friend.

Sandra ran a finger along the line of the girl’s biceps, tracing the smooth flesh to the underarm. She rubbed a few of the dark curls there between her fingers, looking at Miriam with a raised eyebrow.

The Lady laughed softly, coming over to stand next to her friend again. “The peasant girls are all au naturel. I usually shear them when they come to my house to serve, but this one has such enchanting curls that I decided to keep them along with that thick thatch between her thighs. Their men are apparently quite taken by this natural growth. I’m starting to see the wisdom in their preferences.”

“Oh I agree,” Sandra murmured. Though she was at first shocked at the curls, she could see the attraction. In a way they made the girl seem more vulnerable, less in control of her own body. More of an animal. Enchanting indeed.

Sandra tickled a fingertip through the hollows of Sophie’s collarbones, then ran a bejeweled finger through the girl’s cleavage, tasting the sweat from between the heavy breasts. Miriam brought over a stool padded in black leather for Sandra to sit upon, so that she might be more comfortable in her examination of the nude captive.

Sandra cupped a breast gently, lifting its heavy weight in her palm, while with her other hand she worried the nipple between finger and thumb until it stood at rigid attention.

“Such breasts,” Sandra said. She grasped the nipple hard between thumb and index finger and pulled upward, exposing the tender white underside of the globe. Sophie hissed softly, then flinched as Sandra lay the cool back of her hand against the warm flesh under the breast.

“Be still Sophie,” Miriam said. “She hasn’t even hurt you yet.”

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Filed Under: The Odyssey Begins Tagged With: New Story, On Writing-

Jumping In (Damn it’s cold!!)

February 29, 2012 By Trent Evans

Well, here I am. First, there are a few things I need to get out of the way. I am a rank amateur, wet behind the ears, rook, meat, whatever you want to call me. I’m the new guy. I don’t write to make bank. I write to reach people, to make them feel, and to make them think. I would be writing even if there wasn’t a dime in it for me. I can’t help it. The money (if it ever shows up) is just gravy. I’ve always felt that if anyone was writing just for the money, then they were in the wrong line of work. Maybe I’m full of shit, but there it is.

The Beginning

After reading extensively on the pros and cons of self-publishing, I thought I would give it a shot. The worst that can happen is…nothing. We’ll get back to that. I decided to start with the KDP Select program, in the hopes of exposing my work to the largest amount of readers possible. I know, I know; you’re asking why I didn’t release widely to Smashwords and Pubit! along with Kindle. The answer? I didn’t feel like it, dammit! I’m kidding. The real answer is: I’m still learning, and hadn’t really thought about it. A mistake, yes, but if we’re smart we learn from our mistakes.

I’ll back up a bit here. I put together a business plan before I published. Stop snickering you guys in the back! Yes, to be successful in self-publishing I believe you need a business plan. How can you reach your goal without a plan to get there? How do you expect to publish 5,10, or even 15 novels a year if you have no idea what needs to be done in order to achieve those goals? Answer: you won’t. Now, I hate goal-setting. I know I’m not supposed to say that out loud, but I know I’m not alone in that sentiment either. I hate going to the dentist too, but it doesn’t mean I can just skip it.

I drew up a spreadsheet with a yearly goal of 9 published works (about a 50/50 mix of novels and novellas) before the end of 2012. I broke down the year into months, with their own goals. I went further by noting individual tasks and activities (e.g. crank out 2000 words on story Y, learn rudimentary HTML, copy-edit story X, etc) that must be completed by such and such date. I even went so far as to note estimated word count per day needed to finish the individual works on time to make the goals. Ambitious for a first time writer? Maybe. I call it keeping my feet to the fire. See, I (like many writers with an ounce of intellectual honesty) have a lazy streak a mile wide. If I don’t have these signposts, these markers, in place I will backslide and procrastinate like a mofo. I know I will. So, goals and mini-goals it is.

Next, I tried to estimate how many books I would sell per month (on average) and extrapolated that data out to the end of the year as more and more titles are added. How did I reach these estimated numbers? They are WAGs (wild ass guesses). I had no idea. But you have to start somewhere, so I estimated on average I would sell 5-10 copies per book per month. Shitty, I know, but I set the bar low to minimize disappointment. Glass half-empty you say? Shut up.

So, with this out of the way, I decided what I wanted to publish first. It was an erotic story that I had a soft spot for called A Message of Love. I had already ruthlessly edited the story, so that was at least out of the way. I did the best I could with formatting and creating a cover on a limited budget (read: broke), and published the story. I didn’t expect much. I was right not to. For days I checked every few hours to see if there had been any buys or borrows. Crickets. Damn. I decided to yank it down and tweak a few things. I greatly improved the blurb. I added a new opening since the old opening, well, sucked. One of the things I realized was that the sampling feature puts even more onus on the writer to make the opening gripping, hot, scary, whatever. It needs to make someone want to keep reading. Writing 101, right? Well, I had screwed that up. The old opening was a slow set-up; it was laying the groundwork for what came later. Yeah, it sucked.

Then I published it again, and decided to run it for two days as free. I was happy to see that it had 205 downloads in the first 12 hours. That’s absolutely PITIFUL for almost anyone else, but for a dude with a little story lost at sea, it was a damned nice thing to see. Maybe 10% of those downloaders would actually read the thing! It was downloaded over 400 times during the first 24 hours, shooting the book into the top 40 for erotica (I think it peaked at #34 Erotica, #363 for Free). The second day saw a slow decline in the rate of downloads, but I did finally see the algorithms start doing their work. Some also viewed titles began showing up. It was five pages worth, but it was a start. There was a problem though: some of the titles while they were erotica, were nothing like my story. At first I was irritated, but then I realized that this would just take time. Both Dean Wesley Smith and Joe Konrath are constantly harping on the fact that self-publishing is a marathon, not a sprint. When I told myself that, I felt better – and kept writing. The two day promo finished out with 618 downloads and one refund. My guess is that one refund was a freebie hunter downloading the title just as the promo was ending (he got charged and said “Ah HELL no”). Oh well.

So today, the day after the two day promo, my book – unlike before – has a sales ranking! Too bad it started at 216,000 and has been sinking from there. This is reality. I am nobody. This is going to be hard, and frustrating, and heartbreaking. Tough shit! I picked this for myself and I am not giving up. Maybe I am a terrible writer (I think that’s likely), but the more I practice anything, the better I get at it. That’s a fact. So, I will take the advice of Smith and Konrath and just keep writing. Eventually, I will find someone who likes what I do. If it’s one person I’ve touched, then I will have succeeded.

Lessons

1. A good opening is critical; if you don’t have one, it won’t matter how good your cover or formatting is. Rewrite the opening until it does it’s job: hooking the reader.

2. When you are starting, you are nothing, in a sea of nothings. Put the ego aside and accept it. Luck, prolific writing, improvement in your writing ability, and Amazon’s algos will get you where you need to go. Remember, this takes time. Use that time to keep writing. And stop checking your sales numbers, dammit!

3. If you add a new opening, make sure you remember which Word file contained the latest version of the story. If you use sloppy, vague filenames like I did, you are going to be introducing your forehead to your keyboard. Don’t do what I did.

4. If you add a new opening, make sure to take the time to EDIT the fucking thing. Grrr! I forgot to even use the spellchecker. Now I have to rip the thing back down for a copy-edit. Don’t do what I did.

5. Move on. Learn from your mistakes, and resolve not to repeat them – but don’t dwell on them. Excessive self-criticism leads to paralysis.

Now, back to that writing…

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Filed Under: The Odyssey Begins Tagged With: learning from mistakes, newbie mistakes, self-publishing

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