Posts Tagged ‘romance’

Falling Angels by Jen Winters

Falling Angels by Jen Winters

Hey guys!
Today we have something very special going on. We have the privilege to reveal the cover for Jen Winters next novel, Falling Angels.
If you haven’t read the first in the series, Kissing Demons, you can do so by clicking here or click on the image of the new cover above. It has an Amazon.com rating of 4.2 stars! The reviews are definitely worth checking out!
The wonderful and talented Julie Nicholls is Jen’s cover artist and she can be contacted through Facebook or you can email her to request that she works her magic for you too.
So on to the good stuff 🙂 the book, Falling Angels, will be released on the 17th of June, so mark that day in your calendar! And here’s what you have to look forward to:

What’s worse than losing your job? How about losing your life, your home, and everything familiar? I just wanted to work. What did I get in return? A long fucking fall with a sudden stop.
Stranded on earth with little hope for survival and an eternity of banishment ahead of me, I did the only thing I knew—I worked the jobs I could. Until I realized I’d been replaced. Then I got mad.
Eleven thousand years of fighting for my destiny had me broken, bitter, and ready to just give up. And then my best friend blew up Fort Worth and screwed the entire universe in the process. Now I have to save his ass from everyone including the Guardians.
I hate Guardians—those intrusive vixens replaced me, took over my job, and left me utterly useless. But this one, Lavinia, she’s almost as old as I am and she is starting to get under my skin. I can’t concentrate when she’s around—everything about her mystifies me and why the hell do I remember her from before? She shouldn’t even exist! And certainly not in my memory.

Want to know a little more about Jen? Here’s her bio:

Jen Winters fell in love with paranormal romance after her daughter was born and she needed a way to escape reality for a few minutes a day. She loved it so much she decided to take her own pen to it. The world of the Guardians was developed through deeply irreligious conversations with her father who likes to misinterpret scripture as often as humanly possible and a good dose of did-I-just-read-that-! when looking into ancient near eastern mythology and scripture.

Clearly she’s a gal who knows her stuff! More can be found on Jen’s blog and she’s on Facebook too.

This is one not to be missed guys. I own her other works and you’ll want to check those out too. Jen is a great girl with a big heart and she’s going to be an author to watch. So everyone mark June 17 in your diary and pick up Falling Angels as soon as humanly possible!

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

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Desperate for aid, Doctor Lyssa Cutler takes a tip from a police officer who can’t officially help her, but knows someone who can – off the record. With an unidentified stalker on her tail, her patients and her practice are in jeopardy so she’s ready to take a risk. Colt Warner knows that this woman will be difficult, but she is so intriguing that he can’t bring himself to turn down her case. But when her specialty in sexual dysfunction brings her into the lives of him and his brothers, Colt wouldn’t have it any other way. Their professional connection quickly becomes personal and Colt finds himself needing Lyssa as much as she needs him.

Desperate for aid, Doctor Lyssa Cutler takes a tip from a police officer who can’t officially help her, but knows someone who can – off the record. With an unidentified stalker on her tail, her patients and her practice are in jeopardy so she’s ready to take a risk.
Colt Warner knows that this woman will be difficult, but she is so intriguing that he can’t bring himself to turn down her case. But when her specialty in sexual dysfunction brings her into the lives of him and his brothers, Colt wouldn’t have it any other way.
Their professional connection quickly becomes personal and Colt finds himself needing Lyssa as much as she needs him.

Wow! What’s this? Another new release?
This book, Take A Risk, is available today! Click here to purchase your copy now!

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Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

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Explicit, #1

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Synopsis

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

Stranded and searching for a phone, Flick inadvertently walks into danger, and finds herself living in a nightmare. But an unexpected reprieve comes in the form of a stranger, a looming silhouette more terrifying than the evil that captured her. From him she learns that danger has an alias, Rushe. He is abrupt, crude, domineering…and her only hope for survival.
With freedom a distant memory, Flick is reluctantly drawn into the criminal plot. As she descends further, her entanglement with Rushe becomes deeper. The adventure she started by accident threatens them; but Flick knows it’s not only her life she is battling for, it’s her heart as well.

Buy Explicit Instruction

Explicit, #2

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Synopsis

‘I make my own rules.’

Integrating Flick into his life has given Rushe a new priority, to keep his woman where he wants her – safe and in his bed. But saving women who have no hope is a part of who he is, and it doesn’t take long for the next job to seek them out.
Rushe knows the rules, but Flick has never played the game from this side of the table before. Working in parallel, our couple go undercover to expose the crucial details of an intrigue that sinks deeper than they could have predicted.
Ready to get her hands dirty, Flick wades in, relishing the challenge. Except danger closes in on her from all sides, and Rushe has his own cards to play. They have to learn to work together before the job drives them apart.
But if their union is revealed, it could cost them their lives.

Buy Explicit Detail

Explicit. #3

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Synopsis

‘There’s no place for that here.’

The past that they’d hoped to outrun has chased them down, and now it wants payback.
To appease their debtors, they must delve into Rushe’s own history. As they come face to face with the situation that brought them together in the first place, Flick learns more about the man who she’s pledged her heart, and her body, to.
When danger encroaches, Flick will resort to whatever measures are necessary to achieve their goal, but could that mean sacrificing their relationship?

Buy Explicit Memory

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

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Finn’s Feisty Felines are now recruiting!
If you have the enthusiasm to get involved and are interested in joining the team supporting Scarlett Finn and her novels, then check out our street team. All are welcome!
Click on the picture above to come on over 🙂

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

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Books aren’t meant to be a true depiction of real life. Rather, romance novels aren’t meant to be a true depiction. We’d all love it if they they were, if we were all to find our very own alpha who would walk through fire and hell for us, but it’s not a foregone conclusion.
The fiction that we read is an escape from our lives, from the hussle and bussle of mundane routines that tend to fill our days.
Yet, so many readers note unrealistic moments in our novels as negatives. It depends on the genre, of course, as to how far from the straight and narrow you can roam, but there has to be some element of the fantastic or else the story just wouldn’t hold our interest.
Which leads me to sex, bit of a jump? Need more explanation? Yeah, probably, ok… whether our main couple have a long term relationship, a history, or are new acquaintences, there has to be some sex in our romantic fiction. But does it have to be realistic?
Gone are the days of one foot on the floor at all times. Readers want explicit, they want details, and they want those moments to stick in their memories. So there has to be some tension, some teasing, a few hints, and more than a little flirtation, then we have the act itself.
But with so many books out there now trying to achieve success, the intimate scenes become more and more outrageous until we know not where we can go next.
In books, our h always achieves orgasm, often several times, and our male is always dedicated to her pleasure. Bear in mind, I am talking about the “romance” genre here and not so much erotica, where the rules can be much different. Though in saying that, the line between the two genres blurs frequently, so I perhaps shouldn’t talk in absolutes.
My next book has less of the physical act than the previous two in the series, but it’s still in there. We see more of our main characters connecting and the intimacy that has built between them beyond the physical.
But is it enough? Readers have come to expect a certain thing of romance books. I have been marked up and down stars by reviewers in the range of my books based on sexual content alone. The balance is becoming increasingly difficult to get right.
The sex doesn’t have to be realistic, apparently, few have issues with whether or not a sexual connection can be made early, although we know that instalove is a big no-no. I speculate on the future of romance novels and wonder if exploring emotional intimacy will be accepted by readers in the future or whether there will be even more emphasis on the physical aspects of our characters relationship.
Will we ever return to a time when an “I love you” on the final page will be satisfying enough? I doubt it.
But our books have evolved and they’ll keep evolving as the writers and readers progress and tastes through society change. There is one thing we know for sure, as long as females remain the number one purchaser of romance novels the coveted climax will remain front and centre 😉

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

OTHER

If we think back over our romantic history we can all identify moments of madness. Whether it was that crazy moment of intimacy in a not so discreet place, or those phone calls we made night after night that caused such severe sleep deprivation they almost cost us our careers.
Then there is the insanity when we lose love. We believe that our lives will never be the same again and that we shall suffer for the rest of eternity without our love at our side. But we get over it, because we always do.
My title today isn’t actually in reference to romance. I’ve been reflecting on my writing career and considering the lengths I’ve gone to, and the sacrifices I’ve made, all in the name of fiction.
I wouldn’t trade any of it. Indeed writing has been a lifelong companion and will always be my greatest love. Without it, I suffer. My craft can cost me sleep and sustinance. It costs me time and has taken me through many trials. But I carry on.
It’s like an addiction. A sweet high that can lift me to the heavens and then drop me to rock bottom. I sail through in times of passion and toil in times of task. But I carry on.
In years gone by, I’ve walked miles in all weather just for the promise of an internet connection to bring me to my words. I’ve gone without power because the words would not release me.
The more I think about it, the more I realise just how enslaved I am. I am the submissive partner. I wait in hope of the calling, the inspiration that will allow me to embrace my love, to envelope myself in the warmth of companionship offered by my allusive and mysterious mate.
I am at the beck and call of the words that lie in wait for me. I am only what those words want me to be, a conduit between them and the corporeal. I give them form and poetry, weaving the story demanding to be told. I am used by my lover for the gratifcation of completion.
My love promises no reward except the knowledge of productivity, but there is no guarantee of satisfaction on either side. My passion is absolute but my companion is fickle, often reaching out only to pull back and dash all hopes of achievement. But, still, I carry on.
I cannot give it up. I will remain compliant. Until it is time to act again I shall dream of my love, of the words and the stories that consume me. I will do anything for my love because my love is who I am. I write because to not would be to forsake my greatest confidante. Writing is my obsession, and I will be obedient to its will. I carry on because these are the things we do for love.

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

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It’s out! Yes, that’s right, Explicit Detail is now officially available in all Amazon territories.
It turns out that release day is actually a bit of an anti-climax. With the introduction of pre-orders most people who wanted their copy early ordered ahead of time. Pre-order sales, as it turns out, don’t actually translate into a bump in Amazon rankings so from my POV everything is the same today as it was yesterday. There was no anxious waiting to see who would be interested in picking up their copy because I already had the pre-sales figures.
Hmm.
But pre-orders are a great thing. They mean that readers can ensure to get their copy of the novels that they want and they won’t forget or miss out. I’ve already set up the pre-order function for my next release and it’s currently working its way through Amazon’s system.
Getting a book out is always a relief. I don’t have to worry about walking out in front of a bus now, the book is out, no stopping it now. Well, I should say that I have to worry less about walking out in front of a bus, but should also note that I do still intend to look both ways before crossing the street.
The apprehension I feel this time is lessened by the fact that Explicit Instruction is already out there, so I hope that more people will be aware of Rushe’s ways. But that doesn’t ease the worry altogether. Rushe doesn’t become a different character over night and so he’s still abrupt and crude, and rough, and foul-mouthed… need I go on? Flick has her work cut out. But it’s the reaction of the readers that makes me nervous. If you’re not expecting Rushe then he can be quite a surprise. The sex is full-on and dirty, and pretty constant at the start so buckle up if you plan to read it :p
With the pre-order promotion done and the majority of initial sales now over, my work is sort of already done. All I can do now is hope that people will read and respond positively. I turn my faith over to the readers with the dream that you will enjoy Rushe and Flick and then tell your friends. It’s your word of mouth that we authors rely on. You are all-powerful as far as we’re concerned. So please read Explicit Detail, if you can, and spread the word. Tell your friends to tell their friends, and we can make sure that Rushe is experienced by any and all who enjoy a good dose of drama and passion. He believes himself so unloveable, maybe we can prove him wrong.

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

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Sex for the sake of sex is great in real life. Why not go for it just because you can? It’s fun and man it feels good… if you’re doing it right :p
In novels, however, it’s important that sex scenes serve some kind of purpose. The trick is, of course, ensuring that the joining still feels spontaneous and is enjoyed by all parties without spelling out the specifics of what the reader will learn from this particular scene.
So what kind of purpose? I hear you ask. “Isn’t sex simple supposed to titillate?” Well yes, it is, it’s supposed to illicit a carnal reaction from the reader. You should feel yourself a little warmer inside, and maybe a little naughtier too. But sex scene after sex scene without there being a greater purpose will fail to advance the story, which is what a romantic fiction novel should be all about – the narrative.
There’s no single purpose for sex in books. It’s not only about showing the physical progression of the relationship between characters. Sometimes it’s as much about the emotional advancement of that relationship too. In Explicit Instruction the reader can map the development of the sexual relationship between Flick and Rushe and see how that parallels the movement of their emotional connection. The sex is different and each experience between them reveals something else.
We can see how Rushe tries so desperately to keep Flick at a distance in the initial stages of their affair. We can see his rough and ready approach, and how he tries to treat Flick as just any other woman. But subtle changes are seen in each of their encounters until their affinity is undeniable.
Now it’s not simply enough for the writer to say, “Rushe wants to keep Flick at a distance and that is why he is so harsh with her…” Then progress at the end to, “Rushe has given up the fight and now realises that this dynamic, refreshing woman has wormed her way into his affections.” The writer must give the reader enough hints, enough small pieces of evidence, to link so that they can put the pieces together for themselves.
The great thing about writing Explicit Detail was further exploring that development between our main couple. The dirty talk and rough sex still exists but it’s there for a different reason now. It’s no longer about Rushe trying to push Flick away, it’s about them optimising the  pleasure of their partner. Playing together, keeping the variety alive while reminding each other of that undiluted passion they still feel for each other.
Some readers will no doubt disagree about the use or purpose of sex, some may even disagree with Rushe’s methods. But the sex is crucial to both books. Trust builds between them, and because of the nature of the sex that they have, that trust is intensified.
Rushe insists on consent but can be brutish. Flick has to trust him, she has to know that if he approaches her boundaries he will desist. She does trust him, because he always will. Being savage in bed, especially when he is overcome with want for her, is extremely arousing for Flick. She sees through his attempts to keep her at a distance and that teaches her more about this man. Just as her refusal to be deterred shows Rushe how determined, and committed she is to being at his side, thus, how she cares for him.
Flick isn’t going anywhere no matter how he pushes and Rushe only falls deeper when he begins to understand that she is truly accepting of who he is, primitive ways and all, she doesn’t want him to change, but she does want him.
There are many other uses for sex in books, sometimes it’s about gathering or showing information of a more material kind. It can serve a practical purpose, or a procreative one. The uses are boundless, it can be manipulation, or motivation, greed, impulse. But we should always learn something about the story or about the characters during these scenes, the journey doesn’t stop because the characters are enjoying themselves, it should always keep on going.

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx

ExplicitInstruction

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Opening Excerpt

Chapter One

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
Flick knew she shouldn’t have bothered getting out of bed today. The alarm hadn’t gone off so she’d been late to get up. Then the shower went on the fritz and she had to wash herself with the trickle of cold water that greeted her.
When she got into work her colleague Tamara Clark delighted in telling her that she had a run in her pantyhose. So that meant a quick trip to the washroom to take them off. Her boss had been waiting for her when she returned to the front desk, clearly perturbed that she wasn’t at her post – except he didn’t hesitate in removing her from it again to huckle her into his office.
Geoffrey loved the sound of his own voice, so what should have been a quick chat took up almost an hour of Flick’s day. The fact that he was berating her for not completing a previously farmed out piece of work he’d delegated to her took up more of her day than completing said task actually did.
From there the day had gone from bad to worse. But this had to be the cherry on her cake. On her way to a date she hadn’t wanted to go on in the first place, the cab had broken down. Her phone battery was dead because she had forgotten – for maybe the first time ever – to plug it into its charger at bed time.
The taxi ride to her date seemed to go on forever, and she wasn’t sure if the driver was lost, or if he thought he’d take her on an expensive detour. Whatever the reason, when the vehicle sputtered and stopped all Flick could do was roll her eyes to the heavens.
The driver shouted in a language Flick didn’t understand and got out to pop the hood, though it was clear he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. After five minutes of him babbling in her face like it was her fault, she’d turned on her heels and started to walk.
This wasn’t a part of town that she knew; miles had passed in the cab since she’d seen anything familiar. So here she was traipsing through a crappy area in the dark, looking for salvation.
No cabs had passed in the mile she’d walked along this deserted street. Her four-inch spikes were nipping at her toes, and if it hadn’t been raining she’d have taken them off. Though her feet screamed, Flick was glad she’d elected to wear this particular pair. Topping out at five three she needed the height boost.
All of her shoes were heels – even those she wore to work, though they tended to be wider heels – but most of them were four or five inches to compensate for the height differential between her and seemingly everyone else on the planet.
The first sign of life she’d seen for six blocks was the lights in this corner bar. Oddly, there were no windows on the property. But a sign hung above the door calling the place “Dell’s” and with the picture of a beer bottle, Flick knew it was a bar.
Hoping that they would have a phone, or be able to refer her to a taxi company, she reached for the long brass handle. But she didn’t get a chance to push it before a deep masculine voice came from seemingly nowhere.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
Flick hadn’t been aware of anyone, but she peered into the black of the alleyway to her left. ‘Excuse me?’ she asked, though she still didn’t see anyone.
‘Keep walking Red,’ he grumbled.
His casual impatience grated on her. ‘Last time I checked this was a free country.’
‘Check again.’
‘Do you own this establishment?’
‘No,’ he said.
‘Then what right do you have to prohibit my entry?’
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘You want to keep walking.’
‘I don’t actually,’ Flick said. ‘Who are you?’
‘A good Samaritan.’
‘Somehow I doubt that,’ she said. ‘Excuse me.’
‘No—’ His impatience was gone in that exclamation, but she ignored him and swung open the door to stride inside.
Immediately she regretted it. Six men sat around one table in the centre of the space. Two more stood at the bar, while there were two more behind it. A group of eight loitered around the pool table. The space was small, dim, and reeked of cigarette smoke. With bare floorboards, no decoration, and a single lazy ceiling fan, this wasn’t her usual locale. The unexpected entrance drew the attention of every man in the room.
Flick’s parched throat wouldn’t allow words to pass. While three of the men at the centre table were wearing suits, the others might not have bathed for weeks by the look of them.
‘What the hell is this?’ one of the suited men at the centre table exclaimed. ‘I thought you had a guy on look out.’
‘Don’t look like a cop to me,’ one of the men from the pool table said. He discarded his cue and began to move toward her with half a dozen others in his wake. ‘We’ll take care of her.’
Flick’s feet took their time to register what that glint in his eye meant. But as soon as they did she turned to flee, except they caught up with her. Circling around, the pack of hungry wolves came in close. Her scream went unheeded as three of them got hold of her, taking her off her feet.
‘No!’ she shouted and tried to wriggle free while they dragged her past the circle of seated men. ‘No! Please! I’m sorry! I’ll leave!’
‘Not all alone you won’t,’ the one who had spoken first said.
The gang wrestled her past the pool table, and two tailed off to open a door in a darkened corner. Three of them who carried her through ignored her kicking and screaming. They all snubbed her attempts to free herself and dragged her through another door into a blackened room.
No lights, no windows, no sense of anything, until she was tossed down onto what felt like a thin mattress. The darkness increased Flick’s disorientation, hindering her need to flee. Someone snatched her arm, yanked her against a metal bar, and with a grating snick she felt a cuff go around her wrist. Attached to this solid structure, which could only be a bed, Flick was locked in place. The men grumbled and laughed with delight at their apparent good fortune.
‘No, please, I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake,’ Flick said. ‘I want to leave. I need to go.’
‘We’ve got uses for a chick like you,’ someone snarled.
‘No, you don’t want to do this.’
When her other arm was grabbed, she tried to wrest free but this arm was stronger than hers, and she was pulled onto her back. Then there was another snick and she realised what they were doing, cuffing her to the bedframe.
‘Who’s first?’ they asked each other.
Tears burned in her eyes, and she tried to pull her arms free, but her struggling and screaming did nothing except make them angry.
‘Shut it! You’ll piss off the boss, and he’ll make us kill you before we get our fun!’
Lying here doing nothing wasn’t an option. But she didn’t want to be dead. Equally, Flick didn’t want these men to have their way with her. The mattress shifted and a hot, moist hand covered her breast and gave her a squeeze.
‘Big melons for such a little thing, you think she’s legal?’
‘You care?’
‘No,’ the one who fondled her breasts said. ‘She’ll do.’
‘Or we’ll do… her!’ one of them exclaimed to the laughter of the others.
The hand left her breast, but Flick’s sigh of relief was premature because the hand then landed on her thigh and went up under her skirt to touch the lace of her underwear. Flick kept her legs closed, forcing her thighs to bar his entry. He snorted a laugh.
‘I think she’s gonna fight it,’ he said, taking hold of her underwear band.
‘I love it when they fight,’ another said.
Her underwear was torn, and she knew it had loosened, but Flick kept her thighs together. The bed shifted again, and a heavy body landed on hers, then a wet tongue lapped at her neck.
‘Oh you’re gonna love what we have in store,’ the slobberer said.
Pulling the skirt of her dress all the way up to her waist, he tried to get his hand between the clamp of her thighs, but Flick kicked and tried to scream again.
‘Open up for me little thing, you’ll love it. I’m gonna take good care of you.’
‘Please,’ she whimpered. ‘Please let me go.’
‘Can’t do that, you’ve seen us,’ he said, trying to wiggle a finger downward.
Licking all the way to her cleavage, he bit her breast and Flick screamed again.
‘It’s not your turn!’ one of the others said. By the way the body on top of her rocked she knew he’d been shoved by his colleague. ‘Yeah! You went first the last time!’
Flick’s body shook, her head swam like she could pass out at any second, but still she cried. The disgusting weight of this lump on top of her made her fight but he was bigger, stronger, and her attempt to free herself was fruitless.
The three men started to snipe at each other, but then a door opened. Though there wasn’t much more light from the outer room it was enough to see that yes, she was cuffed to the bed, and there wasn’t another thing in this room. The space was apparently purpose built to ensure no escape was conceivable. The distraction gave her a chance to battle her bonds, but still to no avail.
‘What the hell you doing in here? You’re meant to be outside.’
‘Your turn on watch,’ the silhouette that filled the doorway said.
‘Hey no! We got fun here man!’
‘Don’t worry,’ the silhouette grumbled. ‘I’ll take over here.’

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No one keeps a diary anymore, do they? I don’t mean a calendar of appointments and things to do, I mean a journal of their day’s activities and their feelings about them.
I started this blog because I published my novel. It’s as simple as that. I thought it would be helpful to me, and to others, to learn about the journey of self-publishing. But it hasn’t turned out like that, has it?
My vision was that I would keep a record of what I did, how successful it was, and whether or not I would do it again. But almost none of that has taken place.
I talk about my books, about the process, about how I fret over it and over reviews and over… well a long list of things. I’ve written about the highs and I’ve written about the lows, I’ve written about the in-between too.
So I’ve been trying to establish, within myself, if I should alter my practice. Should I be more methodical about what I’m doing? Would it be more helpful to others if I charted my precise course? I don’t know.
Just as every writer’s process is different I’m sure that every indie publishing adventure is different. For starters, I don’t promote anymore. Well, I suppose I do, in that I’ll talk about my books if they’re relevant, and I try to maintain a frequent presence online. But I don’t trawl through the zillions of marketing sites promising to make me an overnight success. I write, I publish, then I go round on the merry-go-round again.
I would happily talk more about my writing process. But I am not a lecturer. I don’t have a career teaching creative writing. My experience is hit and miss, trial and error, and practise, practise, practise. I don’t want to preach at you, and what works for me may not necessarily work for you.
Writers of centuries gone by had diaries, or they wrote an abundance of letters to loved ones. Scholars now pour over both to try and delve deeper into the minds of those who created the classics. Blogs are the new diaries and letters.
Not that I think for one second that us indie writers are re-inventing the wheel, and we’re certainly not re-writing the classics. But just as archeologists dig up the homes of long-forgotten families and try to piece together their lives, we here are leaving a record.
All writers, not just indies, are leaving a record of life, and love, and aspiration, that will resonate down the centuries. If you believe that humanity doesn’t become extinct in some massive ball of fire after an asteroid strike, or a cataclysmic World War, then in hundreds and thousands of years time when our planet is inhabited by androids and space travelers, someone will want to know what it was like, here, now.
In our own way we’re creating a vivid time capsule. One day our technologies will be obsolete, perhaps they’ll be forgotten in the maelstrom of our perpetual advancement. Then, one day, a thousand years from now some distant descendant will pick up your Kindle, or your iPhone, or something equally benign, and will manage to free its data. What does your device say about you? What does it say about society in the burgeoning twenty-first century?
Bear in mind that you’ll be long gone so embarrassment won’t feature. Those naked pictures you took to send to your boyfriend might educate our future selves about human anatomy, chances are we’ll all be cyborgs by then.
Our romance novels will probably lead them to believe that the planet at this time was inhabited by a profusion of billionaires who liked kinky sex, and that we had a myriad of thirty year old virgin women who had never achieved orgasm.
Smile if you like, but stop and ask yourself this: if our fiction paints an inaccurate picture of how we truly live… just what were the Bronte family really up to?

Good luck on your adventures,

xSx