‘Twas the night before deadline
and all through the book
not a plot was emerging
no beginning, no hook

My characters were boring
too stupid too live
my hero liked whoring
a shit I could give

I starred at the page
all white and still blank
my emotions near rage
my book all but sank

When outside the house I heard such a clatter
I jumped from the computer to see what was the matter
There in the street I saw such a sight
a big brown truck with one, no, two white lights

The driver was male and all dressed in brown
in a short sleeve shirt and tight shorts he was bound
His calves were ripped taut and chest was heaving
my biggest fear was he’d soon be leaving

He wasted no time and went straight to work
I stumbled out the door and felt like a jerk
there in the truck with packages he made ready
I ran upstairs and searched for a teddy

A few minutes later I heard the bell ring
so I ran down the stairs all ready for a fling

His hair it was dark and curled in places
and his teeth were white without big spaces
with shoulders broad and arms so strong
I naturally assumed he’d have a long dong

I batted my eyes and tried to play coy
all the time wanting this delivery boy toy
he cocked one eye brow and started to grin
he lowered his eyes and then drank me in

“Can I help you,” I said, as suggesting as able
In my mind I was picturing us both on the table
He nodded that nod in that knowing way
and stepped to the threshold for a roll in the hay

In his arms he produced a package square
not the package I wanted but I didn’t dare
for I knew now his purpose was me not to please
but to leave me this package no moment to seize

A box from my publisher had now arrived
My author copies were wrapped inside
Forget about this man in his suit of brown
I had THE HARD STUFF no need to get down

I ripped back the flaps and grabbed a copy
I felt a bit flushed and even sloppy
but there it was, just as I was told
I really am published, I really am sold

Hours later the excitement subsided
I returned to my new book, a direction decided
About an author in the middle of the day
And a delivery man who went out of his way…

Hubby gets the credit for this one. Thanks, babe! :hello2:
Happy Holidays everyone.
K*

:cheerleader::cooldance::elephant::jumping::party::hello2::beer::woot:
It’s true! My good friend Allison Brennan who has her own book, THE PREY, coming out on the 27th of this month, showed up at my house Saturday night for an evening of holiday revelry, toting a copy of THE HARD STUFF she picked up at her local Borders. Yay!!!!! It was my pleasure to sign. She also brought with her a copy of THE PREY, pour moi. Awesome read ladies and gents. Go buy it, and while you’re at it pick up a copy of the green man, THE HARD STUFF.
That was exciting to announce.
Now on to the business of writing.

“No rules, just write.” My new mantra. It’s what I love about erotic romance. Rules schmules. Push the envelope? What envelope? I’m not talking about nasty sex or … maybe I am, just a little. What’s so wrong with a little consensual down and dirty fun amongst two people in love? Nada in my mind. I have Safe is Boring on a post it over my laptop, I’m adding, no rules just write. It just has to be, it’s what I want to do. It’s exciting, fun, and yes naughty, but c’mon if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll agree that’s why you read erotic romance. It takes you to the edge, and in some cases pushes you over. The free fall is scintillating. You hold your breath the entire way down, your heart rate exploding when you come to earth. Then you want to do it all over again. I love sexy romances. Speaking of which, don’t forget, THE HARD STUFF is in stores now.
Write on, I am, I am very behind schedule with SKIN.
Bad Karin.

I just wanted to say to everyone who is in query mode to keep at it. I spent Friday night at a signing with fellow authors, Susan Grant, Rae Monet, Bella Andre, Carolyn Jewel, Rachelle Chase and Josie Brown (author of TRUE HOLLYWOOD LIES, which I read in one sitting, so what does that tell you? A recommended read from Karin). Anyhoo, a few of us had dinner afterward and well, we talk, and this whole getting published thing, it depends on a few things. The first of course being the obvious: you have to write a good story, but after that it really comes down to luck and timing. After the sale it comes down to: continue writing good stories and get a good agent. An agent can change everything. A good one obviously for the good and a bad one, yikes, a good author can get lost fast.
Even a good agent can be a bad or wrong fit for an author. You really need to go with your instincts here, what does your gut say? I know how anxious I was to get an agent, but even in my anxiousness I refused to settle. After I sold there were a few who were interested. One I wanted to chat with before I even sent my material. She wasn’t interested in chatting. She wanted to see if my stuff was worthy of her wasting a precious 5 min out of her day to even speak with me. I wanted to speak with her first, to get a feel for her if you will, to see if I wanted to waste my precious time and money in sending her material. I wrote her off fast. It’s a good thing I went with my instincts. She has just recently left the world of agenting. Another agent loved my stuff but already had too many erotic romance authors on her list and felt if she took me on she would be competing with her own authors. I was glad for her honesty. I didn’t want to be lobbed together in an agency with the majority of writers writing in my genre. So, fate, luck, timing, (an e.intro by a friend) not to mention a good story, resulted in me signing with a great agent. She’s smart and far more patient then I. She was worth wading through the hundreds of form rejections, she was worth all of the frustrating times I ran to the mail box with hope in my heart only to have it squashed by a rejection letter with someone else’s name but my title in the letter. Or the agent who suggested I buy his book, or that one agent who sends those impersonal postcards (I have stacks of them BTW). I’ve been rejected by many an A list agent, but perseverance paid off. That and a little luck goes a long way. So, while you’re still getting those form rejections or even the personal ones, remember, a published author is one who didn’t quit.
Make “Stay the Course” your mantra for ‘06
Write on.
K*

A lot has been going on here in Tabke world. A lot of waiting. Actually, my house has been winding down from football, the only casualty being my eldest son’s broken leg. Number two son’s team went undefeated. They were awesome. Of course they had a great coach last year (hubby) who melded them as one, and luckily they had coaches smart enough this year to keep them together. Speaking of hubby, he had a frustrating season. Lots of kids with heart but most with no football experience. They learned a lot from him and his staff this year and are eager to play next year. Hubby is one of those coaches who when a player he coached years ago sees him out and about town come bounding up to him like an oversized puppy, yelling, “Coach! Coach!” at the top of their lungs. Hubby is enveloped in a bear hug and the boys, usually towering over him, are grinning ear to ear. It’s enough to bring tears to my eyes. I can’t honesty say I’ve ever touched another human being quite the way he has. And it isn’t just one or two players, it’s dozens. Thinking about it right now, I think I’m jealous.
The man has the touch, he has the gift of eloquence and he amazes me with his patience, insight and intelligence. Of course his patience with people who annoy him is non existent, but as a coach, he is one of the special ones. He is a true teacher, and he teaches more than football. He teaches respect, hard work ethic, pride and values. Out of all of the coaches my sons have had over the years in football, baseball, wrestling and basketball, and there have been too many to count, only one coach (other then their father) stands out, and that was William’s baseball coach, Matt, a couple of years a go. Not only was he eye candy for us moms, but he was smart, dedicated and he instilled trust and respect in his players for each other and the game. Will loved playing for him and he played some of his best baseball that year.
If you’re wondering where I’m going with all of this so am I. lol, but it occurred to me, as a writer, I want to touch readers, to leave them with something memorable, something that when they hear my name or see my books on a shelf they smile and remember my characters fondly. I don’t think that’s too much to shoot for. As a coach owes his best to his players individually, and the team as a whole, as a writer I owe it to my reader and my publisher to write the best book I can each and every time I’m contracted. Otherwise, why waste my time, your time and my publisher’s money?
I want to know, constructively, no flames, if I fail as a writer to bring you the reader a sense of fulfillment when you read the last page of one of my stories. It’s a tall order I put on myself, but just like in a football game what is the point of going out on the field if you don’t play to win?
Write on,
K*

Last night, my friends and I went to a Ladies Night Club. One of the
girls wanted to impress the rest of us, so she pulled out a $10 bill.
When the male dancer came over to us, my friend licked the $10 bill and
stuck it to his butt cheek!
Not to be outdone, another friend pulls out a $20 bill. She calls the
guy back over, licks the $20 bill, and sticks it to his other butt
cheek.
In another attempt to impress the rest of us, my third friend pulls out
a $50 bill and calls the guy over, and licks the bill. I’m worried about
the way things are going, but fortunately she just stuck it to one of
his butt cheeks, again.
My relief was short lived. Seeing the way things are going, the guy
gyrates over to me! Now everyone’s attention is focused on me, and the
guy’s egging me on to try to top the $50. My brain was churning as I
reached for my wallet. What could I do?
Then the woman in me took over!
I got out my ATM card, swiped it down the crack of his a$$, grabbed the
80 bucks, and went home.
ROFLMAO!!!!!! :beer:

Write on,
K*