Jae has a day out

First off: Contest. Still running. Win pretty necklace. Tell me, if you discovered your perfect man was a Were creature, what type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?
Email your answer to ElyssaWrites@aol.com by April 11th.

Had a very interesting day today. Okay, not so very interesting but relaxing and fun. We started the day with a matinee. I love movies but my SO isn’t so fond of them. So usually I’m on my own at the theater on weekends when work calls my Precious away. (I know Precious sounds silly, but you should see the reaction it gets. I’m certain the teeth grinding can be heard for miles.) It’s just one of those loving little things I like to do to show how sensitive and caring I am.

As I was saying I finally drug the hermit crab out of the house and to the movie theater today. I must admit that crabby was a good sport over all about it when I ignored the sarcastic muttering of, “Just wants to see it because he’s in it.” We went to see Nim’s Island. We both enjoyed it a lot. It was a nice family movie with no sexual innuendo, no cursing or violence beyond flying lizards. The film was charming and sweet. It was a big hit with all the kids sitting around us and with the adults too.

Nim’s Island is the story of a young girl who finds herself alone on an uncharted island after her scientist father becomes lost at sea in a storm. She turns to her literary hero, Alex Rover for help. Only Alex, he isn’t really a high-flying adventurer. In fact, he is a she and she’s an agoraphobic writer who hasn’t left her house for months. But with the imaginary Alex Rover coaxing her along, she goes to help Nim, who it turns out doesn’t need that much help beyond someone to comfort her as she fears her father is dead.

As a writer I found this movie interesting on a whole different level. It was a good movie and I think will be one that does well. But the character of Alexandra Rover, the writer –played by Jody Foster, was fascinating to me. Not everyone creates characters the same way. Just pop over to Amarinda Jones’ blog (she’s talking about creating heroes today in a very tongue in cheek way) and you’ll see what I mean. What struck me is that I could identify so strongly with this character. You see her main character, Alex Rover –played by Gerard Butler, is very real to her. She’s written him through several books and fictional adventures.

The film shows several scenes where she, the writer, is having an actual conversation with her character. Okay, hand in air, I do that. Not always out loud, but for me characters are these separate entities, these people that are born from my mind and who drive the direction of the story. They don’t always wait for me to tell them what to do. They certainly don’t wait for me to tell them who they are, they tell me.

More than once I’ve had a character drop a bombshell on me. Once, while writing a scene where two characters were talking about a girl who had died, the character that had been her fiancé suddenly announced that the girl had been pregnant at the time of her death. It explained the animosity and ruthless quest for vengeance in him that I had been struggling to justify. He did it for me.

So those of you who are writers, care to share your character “birthing” process?

After the movie…yes, I did finally get back to the day I had, we went for barbeque. Now I fully admit to being an omnivore and am not ashamed that I eat meat. I fully support animal rights and think that there should be stiff penalties for those who harm animals. I personally think Michael Vick got off easy, but that’s a whole different argument. But for me, there is nothing quite like the smell and taste of good, old-fashioned, slow pit roasted barbeque. Anny Cook recently asked in her blog what the difference was between St. Louis ribs and baby back ribs. I asked. The manager said that St. Louis ribs are slow pit roasted ribs that are cut from the actual rib cage. Baby backs are the lower ribs and are filled not with actual rib bones but with smaller bonelettes and cartilage. Either way, both are good eating.

I was surprised to see that Charlton Heston died. His politics couldn’t have been more disparate from mine, but you had to admit the man could command his time on the screen. He was a true King of the Epic. Where muscles, violence, and speaking very loud are what’s called for. To many people his is the image that first comes to mind when you think of Moses. He was Legend before Will Smith in the Omega Man. And he was the human ambassador to the future in Planet of the Apes. The final scene of that movie is iconic cinema.

I’ve lately become disturbed by the names of people I see dying or who are celebrating birthdays that have me shaking my head in disbelief. I don’t mean people like Heath Ledger whose death was a tragedy and untimely. They aren’t the old school actors that my grandparents watched, but are people I remember watching in films that came out in the theater or in first runs on television. Joan Jett is turning 50. Joan Jett. 50. Now I’m not saying that she’s an old woman. She’s not. She looks damn good. But 50? Am I really that old? Why don’t I feel that old? I grew up watching Joan Jett on MTV. The Runaways played at the first concert I ever went to without a parent along to chaperone.

I wonder? Am I beginning my midlife crisis? Am I allowed to have a midlife crisis? What exactly is a midlife crisis? If you can answer any of these questions, please do so.

I Like To Look At the Pictures.

Please note that some of the contents of today’s blog are not intended for those under 18. In fact, now that we mention it, the contents of this blog are never intended for someone under 18. If you’re under 18, why are you on this blog on a school night? Go study something.

Today’s blog was inspired by three events that involved the sharing of inspirational pictures among very serious professionals. Okay, even I can’t say that with a straight face. First a friend of mine slipped a pic into an email as part of a joke I'll explain later. Secondly, a bit back, an author I know shared with some of us that a fan had sent her pictures of rather sexy men as inspiration. This author refused to share. Hmmphf.

Today another author shared a picture of a rather delightfully formed male. It wasn’t nudity, exactly. A nice bare chest, an open pair of jeans and a strategically placed hand and you have a nice pic. I’m a firm believer in the tease. Show me a bit and my imagination will do the rest. And do it better. It won’t matter if you’re too ripped, and yes, in my humble opinion a man can be too ripped. If he looks like he spends every waking moment at the gym he’s going to be too tired to do anything else. Not to mention the over stuffed, can’t put his arms down, can touch his knees together look is not one that appeals to me. Flawed can be very good.

Back to my original intent. I seem to receive a lot of emails like the one today. For some reason people seem to think it’s a good idea to send me pictures of attractive men. I don’t know why, but they do. And no, I’m not complaining. I was asked, when I was doing my profiles on my male characters, how I came by all these pictures. That’s one way, diligent searches of Google images is another. Today, I’d like to join the ranks of the unselfish and share the pictures that I’ve received in the past. Some famous men, some not. But all very pretty so I’ll intersperse them through out this post.

I have, however noticed in these pictures, which I would assume are designed to appeal to either straight/bisexual women or gay/bisexual men, that the poses are often not quite erotic if you think about them too much. They often fall into one of three categories:

1. That can’t be comfortable
2. What exactly is he surprised at?
3. Is he afraid it’s going to fall off?

That can’t be comfortable relates to photos where the location of the shot just doesn’t look like someplace I’d find erotic. Say…oh, I don’t know…a pile of straw or hay. Straw and hay that have been baled are not soft and sweet smelling like grass. They are itchy and can smell damp and moldy if not stored correctly. So I look at those pictures and think to myself…ouch! Also, sex on a beach looks good on celluloid, but let's face it, there are too many damp crevices involved for that to be a good idea.

What exactly is he surprised at, refers to pictures where the man seems to be examining his manly parts with surprise or amusement. Exactly what is funny down there? Care to share with the class? And while we’re on the topic I have been told unequivocally by my brothers and male friends that it is never ever a good thing to laugh at the manly parts. So what is it? Someone drop a feather down your pants? You’ve been swimming in cold water and are astonished that it really does shrink? It looks different than it did yesterday? What? Share.

Often men in such “sexy” pictures are seen holding their manly parts. Now perhaps this is because he has just looked and been surprised and needs a tactile confirmation of what he saw, or perhaps it is because he’s afraid it’s going to fall off. I can’t think of a single occasion when I’ve seen a man in real life grab the merchandize that it wasn’t an insult, crude or an expression of fear. Of course if he has delayed reactions it could be a sign of pain because he didn’t grab fast enough.


I do appreciate, however, the photographers and models willingness to accept that contrary to popular belief women do like to look at pictures of male beauty. Not only do we enjoy it aesthetically, but we also enjoy it on an erotic scale. Granted we are not the visual creatures men are, but we still like an illustrated classic as much as the guys.

I was working on an article a couple of years ago on writing slash. Slash is a term used in fanfiction to refer to a same sex relationship. The purpose of the article was to help those who were writing same sex relationships without a base of personal knowledge to understand there were basic differences in arousal and reactions based on gender. It truly was fascinating.

Researchers tested the arousal of straight men and women and gay men and women using self-reported arousal as well as measuring physiological changes. Arousal does not mean reactions to actual sexual interaction and activity, but the body's “interest signals”. The beginnings of erection, the dilation of the pupils, the start of lubrication, increase in rate and shallowness of breathing, and increase in skin surface temperatures were the arousal indicators tested.

The first result was one that might be surprising. Men have long been labeled with the stereotype of being easily aroused. The truth is that men, gay and straight, had a more defined parameter of what they found arousing than women. For example, most women showed some evidence of arousal outside their sexual orientation while men didn’t. Women who had reported no interest in alternative lifestyles showed higher rates of arousal when exposed to images of said lifestyles than did men.

The thing I found most interesting in the studies I looked at for the article was how polar opposite males and females were in what senses or avenues of arousal most affected them in all but one area. Males showed significant arousal to visual and tactile stimulation (viewing erotic images and casual touch). Women, not as much. Women were significantly aroused by auditory stimulus (voices, sounds of lovemaking) and by cognitive stimulation (stories, appeals to imagination and that lovely running commentary in our heads). Men, not as much.

What did we have in common? Olfactory responses. Both sexes showed significant reactions and arousal rates to trigger scents. Not the same ones, but reactions to scents were equal.

Just a bit of useless information.

And now to the pic that a friend sent me today. It's a bit of a running joke among us. I save pics of Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale that I'll slip into emails, she slips in pics of Gerard Butler. The joke has spilled over onto one of the forums I belong to and even one of the guys teasingly works in references. I'm a moderate fan of this guy and think he's adorable and a better actor than he often gets credit for. (We won't discuss Dracula 2000, everyone's got one they need to bury.) So, for my final offering I thought I'd share the picture that Anna sent me today.

The Eyes Have It.

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books

2nd prize--3 books

3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills

Mona Risk To Love a Hero

Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess

Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle

Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth

N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke

Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone

Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray

Kelly Kirch Time for Love

Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Today's Meandering Thoughts:

Whenever they do one of those romance/sex surveys men and women often say the first thing they notice about someone is their eyes. I don't necessarily buy that it's the first thing that people notice, but I do believe it's in the top 5, maybe even the top 3. Eyes are important.

We communicate so much with our eyes that we don't say with our words. Mothers can usually see in a child's eyes when they are sick, worrried, afraid or even lying. Eyes are a crucial part of smiling. The broadest display of teeth and curled lips in the world falls flat if the smile doesn't reach the eyes.

And with the one you love, eyes are such important ways of communicating. A look from a lover can tell you they need a bit of coddling, it can tell you they are ready to share a laugh, it can tell you they want more for desert than the chocolate cake you just served up. The best moment of all is when a lover looks deep into your eyes and says:

"My darling I could spend eternity lost in your eyes."

Tonight's Guy:

Tonight's hero is special. Not only because he was able to see beyond what the world saw but because in writing him (which means living for several months with him wandering around my brain) I fell in love with him. I adore all my guys, but James is the one who stole my heart.

James Edwards
Human
Occupation: Surgical Nurse/sometime musician
Age:35
Story: Access Denied by Jacqueline Roth from Cerridwen Press

James is not a happy person. One of a select few human beings chosen to survive a planetary disaster that wiped out all life on the Earth's surface. When the selection process began he tried to put the tragedy that scarred his soul behind him and begin again. Only once he finds himself inside Sanctuary, that new life falls apart. Now more angry and hurt than ever before, James is withdrawn from the world around him. His rage and pain eat away a little more every day, but to James' thinking it's not killing him fast enough.

Trapped in Sanctuary's family planning program which seeks to pair up single residents to form strong family units, James is forced to spend consecutive three month trial periods with women the Committee choses for him. And he's seriously pissed off. But inside this caustic and rude exterior is a man who has a keen love of family. When he gives himself to someone, it is all of himself. Without reservation.

Excerpt from Access Denied:

He knew she had left the room. He couldn’t feel her there anymore and the soft smell of her was fading. He ran his hand through his hair and a low groaning growl emerged from his throat. He should come with a warning label. There should be a stamp on his forehead warning everyone that if they tried to be kind to him, got anywhere near him, he was bound to screw up and hurt them. Or get them killed.

What had he just done? How had he let that happen? One minute he’s holding a picture of his dead wife and weeping for her like a lost child and the next he’s holding Leah and wanting nothing more than to hear her whisper that she wanted him. That she cared for him. That she didn’t hate him for what he had done. For the way he had failed at everything that mattered in his life.

But that was it, wasn’t it. He failed at everything and even sweet Leah couldn’t change that fact. He couldn’t even manage to be her friend without doing something stupid to ruin it. He dropped onto the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. A sick feeling of premonition swept through him. He had seven weeks left with her. She was trapped with him for seven more weeks. That was plenty of time for him to manage to completely ruin any chance she’d even want to remember his name once this was over. No, by the time he was done screwing up, even Leah would bolt and run without a backward glance.

James stood up and flipped the light off. He pulled off his shirt and pants and dropped them in the laundry chute. They would be back in forty-eight hours, delivered while he was still at work. He took a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer and pulled them on, tightening the drawstring waist. No fancy closures here, just simple comfort and a barcode label sewn into them identifying the owner. He’d not bothered with clothes for bed before Leah but had decided before she even arrived he didn’t want to forget and find himself nude and meeting her coming back from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

He stretched out on the bed and pulled the blanket up over one shoulder as he faced the wall. Tomorrow was going to turn out to be a damned difficult and uncomfortable day. Not only did he have to face Leah again but tomorrow night he would be up to his ears in her friends at a noisy club, celebrating her birthday. And after tonight’s performance, he was fairly certain he was going to be the last person she wanted to celebrate with.

He had kissed her and she had fled. If he had ever doubted the sincerity with which she had addressed him those first days, he doubted no more. She didn’t want him. That’s fine, he heard the part of him he was learning to hate scoff. Come on, you don’t want her anyway. How many times have you told her that? This is Leah. Fine, she’s nice and all but damn, you can do better.

James lay there staring at wall letting the thought turn over in his mind. “No,” he finally whispered quietly to the empty room, “but she can.” The light brown eyes closed and when he eventually did drift off to sleep, the last thought that occupied his mind was the way she had felt pressed to him. He had never imagined her body would feel the way it did against him. Nor had he ever imagined the reaction it tore from his. That body, his reaction and a pair of green eyes followed him into his dreams.

(Gerard Butler is standing in for James not because I saw him in the part when I was originally writing this, but because that lovely voice of his and his scruffy appearance just seemed right in retrospect. Sorry no bare chested shots, but there don't seem to be any of this guy that aren't the screaming 300 mode.)