Sex or Not?

A couple weeks ago I put up two polls for readers to answer two questions. The totals were interesting in that they confirmed what I have been thinking on my own. As a writer, it's always difficult to gauge who our audience is and what they really want.

The feedback that reviewers give us is somewhat skewed as by definition, they are looking for certain things. Their expectations are based on genre and heat level so they comment on those things. But what exactly do the readers want?

In the industry, writers in particular are told two conflicting facts. 1) Readers want more sex in the books. 2) Readers want more story in the books. I wanted to find out what the readers had to say about that.

So here are the overall conclusions: Poll #1 Story vs. Sex--56 voters. From this sampling, one person voted for no sex. Three people wanted more sex than story. The remaining fifty two were fairly evenly split between some sex and half 'n half. Based on the numbers, the majority of the readers definitely want story over sex.

Interesting. In this case, it looks to me like the sex is marginally secondary to the story. So let's look at the second poll.

In this poll the question was not about the quantity of sex, but the heat level. Again, one person voted for no sex. Zero people voted for kisses. Three people voted for closed bedroom door. After that, the numbers really picked up. Fourteen voted for open bedroom door. Thirteen voted for explicit sex (Linda Howard, Nora Roberts, etc.) And twenty three voted for explicit sex and language. This poll was clearly weighted toward explicit sex.

What do the two polls tell us? Actually, they pretty much demonstrate that old saw, "Quality over quantity." Readers are not much interested in our characters jumping in and out of bed every third page as though they're working their way through a sex manual. However, when our characters do make it to bed (or against the wall or in the hot tub), our readers want that scene to be hot with realistic adult action. Our readers are adults, not youngsters dreaming about their princes. Been there, did that.

Clearly, whatever the heat level, our readers want a story--a story that will keep them nailed to the chair, flipping the pages until they reach the end. I want to thank all the people who took time to vote in the poll. I appreciate your input.

If you peek over to the right, you'll notice two new polls. I hope you'll take time to vote in them. They'll be up until midnight on Halloween. I wonder what we'll find out from them?

anny

Hugs

Have a lovely weekend! Pass on the hug!

anny

Are we done?

Oh, goodness! I'm at the point in my current work in progress where I want to tear my hair out and scream, "Are we done yet???"

Every writer has a point that they find difficult. For some it's the beginning. For some it's the middle. But for me, it's always the end. The last few chapters seem endless. Never-ending. They go on forever. I'm not sure why, but that's the way it is with me.

In the current wip, I've reached the point where I've done most of the story building. Now I have to gather up all the loose ends and tie them up in a pretty bow. I detest stories that do that all in the last three paragraphs. I like to sort of string them out. So... I'm stringing. And trying not to reveal too many answers too quickly.

In the meantime, I'm working on a couple other wips. Shorter, less complicated stories. And there are days that I feel like the guy in that commercial with all the spinning plates up in the air.

Are we there yet? No, not quite. But we're getting there. Thank you to all who have offered input. I appreciate it very much.

anny

Soapbox Part 2

Ah, service... I wonder what happened to service?

Last week I went to my bank to order an electronic funds transfer to my daughter's bank. Thursday was the day. Since it was after three p.m. the clerk informed me that the transfer would be taken care of first thing Friday morning. All right.

Friday late afternoon my daughter called to tell me the money never arrived. I called the bank and asked for the same clerk I worked with the day before. They informed me that she was not working that day and asked what the problem was. After explaining the problem, the woman on the phone informed me that the transfer had been done. According to her, it sometimes took as long as 48 hours.

On Sunday my daughter called again. No money. So I called my bank again (yes, they're open on Saturday and Sunday!) The original clerk would be back to work on Monday. In the meantime the new clerk on the phone checked her computer and informed me that she didn't see any sign of a transfer in the works. However, she would leave an urgent note for the original clerk.

On Monday I called the bank. My clerk was there, working on the transfer. She would call me back. Never heard from her. At noon I began calling every half hour. At two thirty I informed her that my daughter would have no heat that night if the money was not transferred in time for her to pay the bill.

Fifteen minutes later the transfer was complete.

So here's my thought. Move the rest of my money to some other bank! Preferably one that actually is interested in providing service.

Everyone has a bad day sometimes. But that wasn't an acceptable excuse this time.

Okay, I'll get down off my soapbox. Seems like I'm spending a lot of time up there lately.

anny

Troubles...

Ain't it the truth? There are a bunch of blogs out there about life on the down and dirty. I won't even mention the economy. My son-in-law hasn't had a job in the last year. The other one works intermittently because his job depended on the housing boom--you know, the one that went bust?

People everywhere have to make choices between eating or meds or gas. Winter's on the way. Heating costs are rising. The hottest item in NY is a kerosene heater because people can't afford the cost of heating fuel.

Food? What's that? It's too late in the year to start a garden. The squirrels are starting to look good, aren't they? It's amazing how perspective can change when your basic needs are not met. Things you would never imagine doing suddenly seem normal.

People who never had to worry about their next meal are now lining up at food pantries. And the food pantries are collapsing under the weight. Generic and store brand staples are the new popular brands. With credit lines shutting down, people are rediscovering cash. Who knows? Perhaps some will learn that skill that's in such short supply--counting!

An acquaintance of mine never moved his mindset out of the past. He doesn't understand why people need more than twenty thousand a year to live on. We haven't figured out a way to tell him that hasn't been possible for a while...at least in suburbia America.

People who live on credit are in for an especially hard jolt. Credit cards plus loss of job equals catastrophe. Depression is at an all time high in our country with the predictable results or suicide, murder, child abuse, and all those other problems.

I bet about now that you're wishing you hadn't read this blog. Stick with me. We have some good things that can come from this mess. We can start working together. We can begin bartering for the things we need--skills for skills. We can learn about old-fashioned virtues that we've forgotten like delayed gratification, saving, and thrift. I bet there are some people who have no idea what that word means.

I grew up in the sixties in a household that was below the poverty level. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that we were "poor". We didn't go without. We had food--balanced meals--on the table for every meal. Mom bought day-old bread (it tasted just like the other bread!) for half price. She walked the extra blocks to shop for the corn or green beans where it was three cents less a can. Meat portions weren't enough to feed a small country; they were enough to feed our family. Clothes were hand me downs, but they were in good shape with no holes or tears.

Perhaps as a nation we've grown arrogant and wasteful. We believe we're entitled to everything we desire. I just haven't figured out where that attitude came from. The vast majority of people in this country actually own very little. Most of their belongings are the property of the failed mortgage companies and the failing credit card companies.

If you had to walk away tomorrow with what you actually owned, what could you take with you? I meant that "walk" literally because most of us don't own our cars.

Fear can be a good thing if it makes us stop and really take a hard look at our lives. If we look, learn, and make some life changing decisions it could be the making of us and our country. I hope so.

anny

Stuffed

As many of you know, I attend a diabetic clinic every other week. It's been an interesting learning experience. This last meeting we discussed making wise choices while eating out. Of course, part of that discussion revolved around portion size.

When our facilitator pointed out that a ten ounce steak was about twice as much as the guys should be eating and three times what the women should eat, the women just nodded and went on with the program, but the fellows... well, they were not happy.

The house hunk and I regularly order one entree plus two extra vegetables and split the entree. We've done that for several years now. A nice little seven ounce steak is perfect. One baked potato cut in half. Two salads and a side order of broccoli or green beans for me. If we decide to indulge in dessert, we choose on that we both like. Of course, we rarely choose dessert and when we do, we seldom finish it, but sometimes you just want a little taste of something sweet.

When we leave the restaurant, we aren't hungry! As a matter of fact we often time it so that we will be doing some chore afterward that requires some walking (like grocery shopping!)

I've spent considerable thought on the super-sizing of America. When did that happen? When did more become the norm? And why are we so shy about speaking up? I don't have a problem asking the wait person to bring me a take-out container with my meal. Box up half before beginning to eat. Then I won't need to cook the next night, either.

I asked one of my favorite hamburger places why they didn't have a small french fry order. The fellow pointed to the menu and said, "We do!" A small order of fries in this joint fills a brown paper bag (lunch size). When we eat there, I count out fifteen fries. The house hunk counts out his fries. Then we toss a bag of perfectly good food in the trash. Yes, I know that hurts my friend Kelly, but damaging my own health by eating it will not feed starving people anywhere in the world. It won't. By tossing it in the trash, it makes a point with the restaurant, though. Less is sometimes more.

Calories and fat aside, we all eat too much. When we eat at buffets I'm convinced that there is some psychological reason for us to fill four or five plates with food and eat it when we would never do that at home. Have you ever watched people eat at a buffet? They act as though they haven't eaten in months.

Why is it so hard to buy a small meal in our country? Of course we could order from the children's menu, but quite frankly, their menus are far unhealthier than the adult menus. Really. Check it out.

I suspect that things won't change until attitudes change. And attitudes won't change as long as men (in particular) associate eating a lot with being manly. Masculinity is not determined by how much you can stuff in your face. Femininity is not determined by how much we stuff in our kids.

'nuff said. I'll get off my soapbox now.

anny

I love you

"Faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these is love." St. Paul to the Corinthians

I deal with the subject of love everyday. It's my stock in trade. Without love, romance doesn't mean much. Gigolo's stock in trade is romance. They have it down pat... flowers, candlelight, great sex. But without love, it's all ashes in the mouth.

Love is one of the great mysteries in life. Why do we love one person and not another? Why does one speak to our heart when another would be more suitable or logical?

How does a parent's love work? All children are precious so why do our children touch us so much? Is it really all about genetics or biology? And if it is, then what about children/parents of adoption?

What about that friend we make that becomes the sister/brother of our heart? Where does that love come from? How marvelous that we have the capacity to love--to share our heart with another person.

Are we losing that capacity in the modern day rush for survival and success? Can we still reach out and touch the lives of others around us--not for gain, but for love?

"Love doesn't make the world go round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile."~~Franklin P. Jones

Share with a friend

In these bad economic times... don't forget to share your blessings with friends and neighbors.

anny

The burn..

That's me on the right. Yeah, yeah, yeah... That skinny chick on the left is the one who spent an hour last night telling me all about dietary fat. That was after she spent some quality one-on-one time wringing her hands over my single sausage patty that I have once a week. Later on in the evening, she hauled out a bunch of fat filled test tubes and held them up so the class could check them out. Three test tubes = one big hamburger from a major fast food place. Yeah, I'm sure you can figure out which one. After that the evening went down hill.

So my assignment this two weeks is to add ten minutes of physical activity to my day--every day. That might not sound like much, but it means that I'll have to get dressed everyday. Since I usually don't get dressed (why get clean clothes dirty when I'm not going anywhere?), that will mean that I will a) have to get dressed and b) have more laundry. You all know how I feel about laundry. Need I say more? I guess not.

My sugar has improved. Seventy-five percent of the time, I'm on target with my blood sugar numbers. When I'm not, it's because I cheated and ate the cheesecake. The trouble with cheating while checking your blood sugar is that you can't fake it out. The numbers do not lie! Heh. And now we have to have a blood test called an A1C. This test is the average of your blood sugar numbers for the previous three months. So they get you coming and going.

Moving on to other stuff. I spent three hours the other night researching compost toilets. Very interesting stuff. Did you know that they're very big in Sweden? Neither did I. But then, I didn't realized how the technology has changed and spread. There are companies that deliver and install the entire set-up--including a nice little hut. I can just see it now--I could order one and have it set up on the apartment lawn. Yep. I'm sure the management would understand when I explain that I'm trying to save water.

I also checked out how to make a spear. Just in case I need to defend myself when the apartment management send the custodians to tear down my compost toilet.

My new foray is to search out herbal substitutes for soap and shampoo. Oh, yeah, I also need cooking oil. I believe I can do that with sunflowers, but I'll need to check that out, just to make sure. I read on one site that you "press" the flowers to extract oil. Now I used to raise sunflowers and believe me, it's gonna take a lot of sunflowers to produce much oil. Did you know that even though sunflowers are a native American plant, that it wasn't until the Russians started raising it for oil that the American farmers started planting it? Up until then, it was just planted as a decorative plant in the garden.

Well, I've run out of fun facts so I guess I'll close this for now. Blessings on your day!

anny

The Unexpected Assassin

Harold skittered across the open no man's land to the scheduled meet with the new client. Meeting with strangers was always a scary proposition, but that was just one of the difficulties when you made your living as an assassin. There was a whole host of hazards from the people who set traps to the bounty cats who could be waiting around any corner.

Sometimes the media hounds wanted him to explain how he got started as an assassin. None of them wanted to hear the truth--because it wasn't pretty. He had taken up the business of murder for hire because of the money.

Hey! There weren't that many job opportunities for a mouse! And in the bigoted world where women thought the only good mouse was a dead mouse, well, Harold had taken what he could get. He made a steady income that easily supported his extended family so that the little ones didn't have to scramble for cheese and peanut butter. Since he'd taken up the assassin business no one had needed to chance the trap run. No more missing tails. No more gnawed off fingers. He could buy peanut butter and cheese for everyone.

When he drew close to the edge of the table, the waiting cat lifted his head up, staring at Harold in disbelief. "You're the assassin?" he snarled.

"Yep. Who's the target?"

"Prince. He's a German Shepard. Big mean son of a gun. Are you sure you're up to this?"

"A dog, huh. Hmmmm. Well, it'll be tough. Gonna cost you extra."

"Allright. Half now. Half when you do the job."

Harold mulled that over. "Okay. Just remember. If you stiff me for the job, I'll take it out of your hide."

The cat grinned. "No problem."

Harold leaped away, streaking across the table. The cat and his companion watched him with unwinking stares.

"Are ya really gonna pay him, Tiger?"

"Heck no." Tiger snapped at his companion in disgust. "You're such an idiot, Fluffy."

"Well, aren't you afraid? You heard what he said!"

"Why should I be afraid?" Tiger slapped Fluffy's nose. "Have you forgotten? Harold the mouse is my bounty. Besides. In my spare time, I'm an assassin, too."

Anny

Cover Hogs

It seems a shame after being married a million years that I still haven't been able to train the cover hog. In the dark watches of the night, one of two things happen. Either he decides he's hot and throw all his covers on top of me. Or he decides he's cold and steals all the covers leaving me to freeze.

At one time, I thought the best solution would be to have separate covers so I invested in twin top sheets, blankets, comforter. And routinely found mine on his side of the bed. My second solution was to place back-up covers on a chair next to the bed. Of course, I had to wake up to find my new set of covers and by then they were cold!

If I toss all the covers on him (because he turned the AC off), he just tosses them on the floor on the other side of the bed. I'm thinking about duct taping his covers around his knees. At least he would have to wake up then when he couldn't rearrange his covers.

While I'm at it, I'll tape his c-pap mask to his face so the the leaking air doesn't keep me awake with the whistles, chirps, screeches, and other assorted noises he makes. Or I could super-glue it to him. That's a thought. I tried recording the racket. It didn't work. Maybe I'll get a video tape...

And post it on You-tube...

anny

Don't send a dog...

to do a TIGER's job. Y'all have a great Sunday.

anny

Washing

Ahhh, yes! I did laundry last night. Three hours at the laundromat. Washers were not working quite right, nor were the dryers so I have damp laundry, but hey! I'm done until next time. Why doesn't someone invent a new way to deal with cleaning the clothes?

It occurred to me that laundry is pretty much same-old, same-old for millennium. We wet the clothes, agitate them in some manner, wring out the water, and dry them--whether we use the good old hang 'em in the air method or a dryer. The cave ladies were doing laundry the same way. That's just sad.

So why hasn't someone invented a new way to deal with laundry? Back in the sixties, paper clothes were all the rage. They were touted as the wave of the future. Of course, they didn't go very far, except for those freaking paper gowns at the doctor's office.

Why not take all the plastic bottles, bags, etc. and make them into clothes? They wouldn't end up in the land fills because they would all be sitting in the closets with the other clothes that no one can bear to get rid of. I bet they wouldn't fade as bad as the stuff we have now. Waterproof, drip dry, maybe we could even just clean them in the shower while we clean the rest of us. Dual use of the water that way.

Can you tell that I'm laundried out for now? Yeah, you probably can. But I would like to hear any ideas y'all have for kicking the laundry into the twenty-first century.

anny

Password?

For the last few hours, I couldn't find my blog. I'm sure you're scratching your head about now. Seriously, every time I clicked on the blogger posting page, my entire list of previous blogs was missing. And I spent quite a while checking every single button and tab, looking for whatever I must have done in the past to make my blog posts disappear.

Eventually, I did stumble on a tab that made them reappear. But it still isn't acting the way it did before so no doubt there is something that I'm not doing correctly. In the meantime, the blog was not written. Hmph!

I find this all particularly annoying as I was a computer teacher in my checkered past, specializing in teaching computer basics. I taught an adult education class titled Computer Boot Camp. Very basic stuff--sort of the potholes of computers. I showed my students things like what happened to make their taskbars disappear. Or how they could accidentally make their documents close. All the stuff that really frustrates the brand new computer user.

So this is a pothole in the blogger programming that is no doubt a very stupid little thing that I did by accident. Eventually, I'll figure it out. In the meantime, I'm make it work for me.

At least I didn't forget the password...

anny

Yay Team

I lived in Houston when Hurricane Alicia came in. We followed all the instructions. Filled buckets and pitchers and bottles with water. Had enough food to eat for about a week. Had two coolers and bags of ice stored in our freezer in case the power went out. Lots of batteries, flashlights and emergency jar candles. Washed all the laundry before the storm came in. Washed all the dishes. Made sure we had fuel for the camp stove. Bought a large stack of paper plates.

The storm arrived in the middle of the night with sound and fury. Afterwards, the skies were blue, the sun came out, and we baked. Because of course the power went out. Two houses down, a neighbor fired up his huge grill (a converted fifty-five gallon drum) and offered to cook any meat anyone wanted to bring by.

People started preparing foods that were perishable so that they would be eaten rather than thrown out. Neighbors opened their garage doors and played cards or board games in the shade. A couple people put up tarps and set up tables so that we could arrange the potluck dishes the neighbors brought by.

A couple of guys went from house to house assessing the damage, making a list of things that needed to be replaced. Others cleaned up debris from the yards.

We were blessed. We lived far enough inland that we had limited consequences from the storm. But we also pulled together to make things better. Everyone did something. Everyone participated. Disaster relief isn't just the responsibility of the government. WE are the government. WE are the people.

anny

PS: Today my granddaughter is eleven years old! Happy birthday, kid!

Lost my marbles...

It's been an interesting three or four days. There have been some pressure jobs to complete. I function well under pressure for a while and I'd forgotten that. But I've finished the jobs and now I'm ready to unwind. Today that means laundry.

I absolutely hate doing laundry, but it requires next to no thought so I'm gonna take a book with me and watch the clothes go 'round and 'round and 'round. When I'm sufficiently unwound, I'll possibly do some other stuff like the dishes that haven't been done for three days (thank goodness for paper plates!) and the food diary that is woefully out of date.

I also have several new reference books on basket weaving that I received today from Amazon. While I don't expect to weave a basket this week, the time travel story I'm reading has some basket weaving in it, so I'll pore over them enough to not make uninformed mistakes like using modern materials or dyes or other stupid stuff like that.

My current search is for instructions to make extremely primitive furniture. Not much luck so far, but I will be happy for any hints. Another search is for instructions to make natural dyes from weeds and herbs. And a third search is for hints on making air dried veggies and fruits. Ah, the joys of research!

Well, that's it for today. Those are my steps to regain my marbles. Hope y'all have a safe place to keep yours!

anny

Hedge Fund

Do you get the idea that retirement might be a thing of the past?

anny

Whatcha doin'?

Yeah, human stuff... Actually, I'm up to my eyeballs in edits, thanks to my fabulous editor, the Shadow Frog. Fix this, this, and this... So, I'm kinda busy.

Happy to report that all family members in the path of Ike are fine. A little damp, but fine as they were prepared. Interesting that I seem to talk to the family more in hurricane season. I wonder why that is?

For those interested in participating in such things, I'll have an Anny and Friends chat tonight from 7PM -9PM EST at the EC chat loop. Please come, bring your excerpts and chat. Tell us about your books and plans.

I've been stumbling around in the dark lately regarding my writing. The editing has given me a chance to regroup and reassess my work. It's not terrible. It could be better--as all writing can be better. Very few writers look at their work even a few weeks later and don't find things that make them wince or things that they wish they could change. So I'll keep plugging away, happy for one more opportunity to make those changes before the book goes out in public.

I spent Saturday looking at several short "jump-start" beginnings for new works in progress. It was pretty funny. After reading one of them, I looked around and thought what was I thinking? But the others were good. Short. Very short, but good. So I have something to mull over in the wee hours while I consider changes for my current work in progress. Yes, yes, after I finish the edits!

I'm sure that all of you are busy with fabulous chores. Leave me a note and tell me what you're doing. I'll randomly draw a name to win a free copy of any of my current releases. So, if you want to win, make sure I have an e-mail to reach you!

Shazamm! I'm out of here!

anny

Definition of Stupidity

People who refuse to participate in a mandatory hurricane evacuation-- and then change their minds and call 911 for a rescue in the height of the storm!

anny

Sinking for the third time...

Heh. Kinda an awkward position to be in, huh? Let's see. What did I do yesterday? I did research. Basketry, the black ash, antler baskets, plane tickets to Texas (incredible prices... really incredible--I think the planes must be made of gold), reeds, why condoms break, crafts for kids, how to make a hand loom, card weaving, and climate in North America in 500 BCE.

Oh, yeah, I wrote some. Finished Chapter Nine. Considered what I will put in Chapter Ten. And put some thought toward the next book. I'm in one of those moods where I "feel" like I should write a really deep and meaningful book. I usually get in these moods when I don't feel deep and meaningful. You know when you feel really irreverent so maybe you should pray?

Hmmm. So I'm standing on the river bank considering all the ways to get to the other side. For the life of me, I don't have a story in there anywhere. I can't think of a single clever, interesting idea. I can't even think of a single boring, stupid idea. Argggg!

Possibly, I have brain overload. Yep, that's it. I'm sure. Sooooo. I think I will take Saturday off and meditate. If I find an idea... perhaps I need inspiration.

anny