It’s March already?

Heck, it’s nearly April!

So where have I been? Working the day job, being sick, working the day job and being sick some more… seriously, I’m so over being ill in some manner or form.

First it was a doozy of a cold – which I’d half expected with the whole going back to work thing and exposing myself to all those extra germies – then just as I got that sorted the trees started dropping pollen. Now I’m not sure if it’s just a Florida thing, or maybe a very lower southern states thing, but holy-high-pollen-count-Batman! Everything, and I mean everything, gets coated in a thick layer of fluorescent yellow gack. That yellow gack is pollen, and this year oh-lordy-me did my body decide to have a field day with it. I seriously considered nose removal surgery. Adding into all of that I’ve been having some major tooth/jaw problems – like migraine-put-me-in-a-dark-room-and-let-me-scream problems.

The tooth problems *crossfingers* are the only lingering issue at the moment. And even those I think are on the mend. YAY!

Is it April yet? ‘Cause I’m really quite done with March! 🙂

Many of you have been emailing asking after Huntingdawn 3. After the washout writing-wise that was ’09, these little emails – even if they are as short as ‘when’s the next one?’ totally, and I mean totally make my day. As a reader I know what it’s like when there is a big gap in a series you like, so I just want to say thankyou for putting up with this slow-arsed writer who is finally getting her act together. I won’t give a timeline (mainly because I do hope to break it) but the 3rd book is being actively worked on, with some thoughts for a story a little outside the main prophecy storyline for a certain pesky jaguar cousin.

Oh and if you hadn’t seen earlier posts Dave (from the Diner) and a new girl to town Betty are the main couple in the next story.

87 from Mrs G

From Mrs Giggles review of His Intimate Submission:

First things first, yes, the naughty scenes are pretty good. What I like here is how well Ms Douglas manage to integrate the awkwardness felt by both characters as they try out various sex toys and all in a realistic manner without destroying the momentum or the heat level of those scenes. But what I also enjoy in this story is the insight offered by Ms Douglas into the psychology and dynamic behind the Domme and male submissive relationship. Now, I don’t know how authentic such details are as I’m not familiar with the scene, but I do find them convincing enough in my opinion. It is interesting to learn that being a Domme isn’t just about becoming Xenia Onatopp and punishing the submissive – the Domme also has needs, I learn, and the very act of punishing a submissive sometimes isn’t enough to satisfy those cravings. Ms Douglas goes beyond the stereotypical portrayal of BDSM typical of CSI episodes to introduce the emotional intimacy aspect of such a relationship, and I find the whole thing a most interesting read indeed.

Fun and educational – not bad at all, in my opinion.

While reviews might be for the readers, as the writer I’m feeling pretty happy right about now!

Cover Art – His Intimate Submission

I wasn’t quite sure what they’d come up with for cover art. I mean when you say ‘well, there’s a bit of fetish involved, but I don’t think you’ll want to go there, oh and she fucks him with a strapon…you could use that if you like?’ It’s a bit of a tough one to pick.

And while chains don’t feature, I don’t think this does a bad job of portraying my kinda bi, kinda conflicted sexy boss man who likes it when his girlfriend Tops him. Not a bad job at all. Thanks Syneca!

His Intimate Submission Cover

His Intimate Submission Cover

Working on Edits / Stepping into BDSM

Other than the eleventy-billion “remove comma” (sorry B) edits are moving along well on His Intimate Submission. No release date yet as we’re not quite finished, but cross fingers it might well be quite quick since edits are going so fast.

I’ve not written anything that’s had a direct link into BDSM before — assuming you associate all FemDom with BDSM that is. BDSM’s been something that I’ve felt a little uncomfortable jumping into the middle of, possibly because I have a different response than many when it comes to who should be on top — yes, the old Women-want-to-let-it-all-go-and-not-be-in-charge rubs me a little the wrong way — and frankly, I just don’t want to do it ‘wrong’ (of which there are many levels of, depending on the person).

Originally His Intimate Submission was Subtle Domination. This picture from http://malesubmissionart.com is exactly the type of feeling I was going for. Submission has many facets, and simple and sweet was the side I wanted to portray.

Originally, His Intimate Submission was titled Subtle Domination. This picture from malesubmissionart.com is exactly the type of feeling I was going for. Submission has many facets, and simple and sweet was the side I wanted to portray. This image links to Male Submission Art - maymay gives wonderful, insightful commentary on what it means to be a male submissive, you should check it out!

I really, I mean really, wanted to write a story about a guy — a fairly straight guy — who wanted something different…and that different was to be the one taken charge of in the bedroom. Really, when I revised and finally hit on how to make the story work in Curious Intimacies Jason was written with wanting to tell this other story about him in mind (and Shane too, I’ve have an evil plan afoot for him). I didn’t want Jason’s story to be about the Top declaring him a true sub he just had to realise it, nor did I think Jason was at all into the whole pain side of things. So how to do it then?

It turned out in someways it was pretty simple as there’s this other thing that bugs me some about a number of BDSM romances – very few Dom/mes are ever inexperienced. They just seem to have sprouted up knowing how to wield a whip and paddle — but seriously, while you might be born with the need to be dominant, you aren’t born with some sort of implanted genetic history on how to go about kink. (This is a personal thing — I’ve a fondness for telling kiddo when he gives up on something after the first try that all the people who are really good at X got that why by practicing their arses off.)

So, I figured we’re (me and the characters) all new to the game lets just let it play out exactly like that — Lucy and Jason both have to feel their way into the next level of their relationship by discovering how to be what the other needs. And sometimes that’s fun and other times pretty freaking scary, and sometimes…pretty kinky even if it is kinda vanilla 🙂

So while His Intimate Submission isn’t full on BDSM since it just puts a toe or two in the water and swishes around a little to see how it feels (the same way your or I might to find out how it all fits), the strap-ons, dildos…and just a little bit of fetish involved means it’s not quite vanilla either.

Hrmmm. Marketing is going to be a real PITA on this one isn’t it… my Vanilla BDSM Fetish Beginner FemDom KindaBiGuy book…

SOLD!

So it’s no secret that 2009 has not been the booming, productive year I planned out way back in January.  I totally own up to it–there’s no great reason other than I just didn’t get myself together and let myself get bogged down with my involvement in EPICs eBook Competition. But,  I can now say 2009 wasn’t a total failure as I’ve sold a novella – His Intimate Submission – to EC.

His Intimate Submission follows on from Curious Intimacies. Here’s the blurb I sent in:

Months ago, on a wickedly hot Floridian night, three friends let loose and explored unexpected sides of their sexuality. It’d been good. So good they’d explored some more.

But lately, when it’s just her and Jason together doing everyday things, Jason’s shutting Lucy out. Oh, she’s not concerned Jason’s decided to bat for the other team fulltime—sex between the two of them is still as amazing as ever—but the rest of their relationship is strained. Jason’s searching, for what Lucy doesn’t know, but she’s scared that illusive something means leaving her behind. It’s time for her to pull up her big girl panties and figure out what’s wrong before things go from bad to worse. And for her, worse would mean total heartbreak.

Lucy couldn’t have anticipated Jason’s response, though. He’s not cheating and he’s not about to leave her, but he needs something all right.  Something that involves overwhelming desires he fears to admit.

Lucy will have to take the upper hand and demand her lover’s intimate submission to set them back on the path to happiness

You can find me on facebook

I’ve been trying very hard to stay away from Facebook. Not because I think it’s some evil empire (although, maybe, just a weeeee bit, it is) but a gal’s got to say no somewhere to all the social media that abounds.

But since everyone I know keep gong on about ‘oh, I posted it on Facebook a week ago!’ I figured I better get with the program and voila! An Anne Douglas Facebook Page.

Now I just have to hope I’ve done it the way I’m supposed to, rofl, cause I hate asking dumb questions that have folks giving me that ‘ sigh…newbies!’ look 🙂

Now, if only I could figure out how to make one of those cutsie button widget things to put in my sidebar…

Like the new look?

I decided that after all my hunting I didn’t like the one column blog style, so I broke out the CS3 and used up my about to expire credits at istockphoto.com and voila! Now just to get the entry page done 🙂

I’ve had quite a rush of people emailing me over the last few weeks asking about Huntingdawn 3, and just what is going to happen with the prophecy. Well, I can’t tell you that now, can I, but I’ve finally (big heaving sigh of relief) finished off the follow on from Curious Intimacies (tentatively titled Subtle Domination) and despatched it to my editor, so on to Huntingdawn 3 it is!

I’ve already gotten a couple of thousand words into Dave and Betty’s story – an odd pair of names, right? Originally Betty was supposed to be a dragon… I sooooo wanted her to be a dragon, but the editor nixed that idea *sob*. A dragon, named Betty, mated up to a bobcat Were called Dave… hilarious, no? So I had to come up with a different beast with wings.

I think the working title of The Owl and the Pussycat might give away where I’m heading 🙂

How about a very rough excerpt to give you a little taste of the heroine and her entry into Rockville.

Betty eyed the small green sign that announced the city limits of Rockville, population approx thirty-five thousand and wondered if it was a federal offense to kick it to the ground and stomp on it with definite intent to do bodily harm.

“Knowing my luck lately, it would be.” Instead, she parked her butt against the upright of the sign, leaned over and dug around in her shoe for the Rock-of-Gibraltar-sized stone that had worked its way in there. She put her foot back down with a sigh of relief, and opened her hand to inspect her evil nemesis, The Rock, only to find it was nothing more than a piece of gravel—a tiny one at that.

“Damn it!” Limping back to the middle of the barely two-lane road she turned, snarled at the sign and launched her petty turn of revenge. Tiny as it was it only made a tinny clink against the metal, not a nice, resounding clunk, but it was enough to satisfy a portion of her indignation.

“Why-oh-why did I have the radio so loud?” With her hand up, shading her eyes, Betty peered back along the road trying to see her abandoned car. Nothing. Not even a glint off the flaking chrome bumper. If she hadn’t been enjoying the day, windows down, wind in her hair, rocking out to music she might have caught the knock-knock noise sooner. Like back near a garage, not four-miles-from-anywhere sooner. It’s not like she shouldn’t have expected it—the radio and speakers were the only thing not original on the damn car.

If wishes were horses… Who am I kidding? I’m allergic to horses, I’d still be walking. And while she did have another option, the need to keep a low profile ruled that out.

Aching legs and ankles protesting she swung back around to the city sign and gave it a final one-fingered salute before resuming her trudge toward the city dragging her bag behind her.

Romantic Times eBook expo/fair

As it turned out despite proximity, this year was not to be my year to get to the Romantic Times convention. I think there’s more than a few authors and readers finding cons not quite so easy to get to this year…but that’s how the cookie crumbles at times.

But, I have convinced hubster to work from home for Wednesday afternoon so I can skip down to Orlando (okay, really it’s a 2.5 hr drive each way…yes, I live to torture my currently crotchety hip) so I can go to Wednesday afternoon’s eBook expo/suthor signing event… as a reader 🙂

So I’ll be there – momentarily – autograph book in hand with my name splashed on my back. So if you see me, please feel free to say hi!

Anne

The White Room

There’s a blog I watch via Google reader that serves up some deliciousness when it comes to decorating/crafting and things possibly a little kitschy. I’ve been exposed to all sorts of little offbeat items through Holly Becker’s Decor8blog and watching the process of decorating her teensy little German flat on the Haus Maus was too fun. Her Etsy, Take 5 Tuesdays are definitely to watch. If you want a gift that just a little bit different than anything else, Etsy is the place to go shopping! Ohhh the goodies to explore. And I’m not just saying that because that’s where you’ll find Anne’s Addictions 🙂

But, I have a problem. All these lovely designer rooms and accessories, all this neat furniture and floorings…they are in the majority white, white on white, white on white with a splash of colour, or beige (ish) at most.

Seriously, who can live like that? Well, besides the single, or partnered with OCD that is. Do any of these designers have kids? And if they do with these lovely white rooms, can they let me in on where they send their kids to school, cause I want me some of that.

I’m just not that neat. Though, damn it, I want to be. I want big windows, whitewashed walls that my artwork would stand stark from, or just waiting to be the perfect canvas to be accented with the palest seafoam green glassware I’ll get around to collecting just for my white house.

I find how dark the houses in Florida are quite depressing. (Would you believe I went to a show home in a new subdivision and as I was entering two different groups were complaining of how the house was too bright inside? ‘They didn’t even need to turn the lights on!’ – I loved it, of course! Just not let’s double our mortgage, like it.)

White is perfect, clean; a blank canvas waiting for something to happen, perhaps, but I have to wonder, given that white is such a blank page, do people find the white on white décor relaxing? Can they function and find inspiration amongst a singular colour palette?

Maybe it is all those things; a blank canvas of space and openness like where the aliens take the good guys for study when they get sucked up by the mother ship. The sterile room for you to empty the your head space that’s been frantically filled with the detritus of lives lived too fast and too chocked full of everything as we move around in our day.

But then again, it might be a logistical nightmare of “All right, WHO put their feet on the couch, and ohmigawd, put their greasy little fingers all over my beautiful white walls!”. An OCD sufferers perfect trap.

Home of Kelly Rae Roberts, picture sourced via Decor8blog
The kind of bedroom I wish I had.
Home of Kelly Rae Roberts, picture sourced via Decor8blog

Being that I love colour (strange I know from a woman who wardrobe is mostly black and brown), would I wake up one day to find my lovely stark-white room is no longer, I’ve in fact filled it up with colour to a point where it’s just as busy as the rest of the world outside my door? And as I ponder that, I have to wonder what that says about me…

Alas, given the way my son tends to abuse the walls and doors, and serve himself up toast that he liberally coats in honey while he’s on the couch, I’ve got another 10 years before I can consider a white room all of my very own. Until then I think I’m just going to have to suffer with the clutter and mess and walls grimy with fingerprints interspersed with periods of perfection (heh, a bit like my mind, really).

Although… there is that toilet sitting there. A splash of white paint, a little shelf, a little vibrant blue glass bottle or two to go on the white shelf above my white commode, and a stunning piece of artwork on the opposite wall and I just might have my perfect room for relaxation…

When I grow up I want to be a romance Heroine.

Have you played that game before? The one where you declare what you want to be when you ‘grow up’ and why.

It’s been years for me, but this morning as I stared in the mirror inspecting my pimplicious face and reflecting on the pain of getting an upper lip wax for the first time in 35+ years yesterday afternoon, I decided I wanted to be a romance heroine when I grow up (or come back in my next life, whatever *shrug*).

You might think “Of course you do, the heroine 9.9 times out of 10 gets the hunky hero and they live happily ever after”, but no, thats not the reason why. I’ve decided I want to be a romance heroine because they don’t seem to have to suffer the indignities of primping quite the same way the rest of us do.

Depending on who you follow on twitter, you might have seen some various comments about the fact that no-one ever pees in romance books…well, the heroines at least. Men often do, although its always a very closed door affair. These couple of random comments (and the one about my best ideas coming from contemplation time on the loo) got me thinking — all our lovely, perfect, flawed, kick arse, Mary Sue, thin, fat, inbetween, tomboy, barbie girl, mother nature heroines seem to have a void when it comes to primping.

Other than the tomboy to siren plot line, you never see the heroine go get her eyebrows waxed… let alone her upper lip, and you sure dont get to see her eyes glisten with the pain of a little asian lady ripping out bodyhair by the dont-want-to-let-go-roots. (Okay, I might just be harbouring a teensy little bit of angst toward the lovely Ms Lily at my nail salon for the lip wax thing because holycrapmonkeysdamn why didn’t anyone warn me how much that freaking hurts!! Ms Lily really is nice, and she’s a pretty dab hand with a brush and building fake nails for people like me who can’t grow them.)

Which leads to another point… where are the fake nails? And why do they always belong to the evil bitches who want the hero, or want to rule the world, dominating one man at a time and collecting enormous amounts of Baby Daddy monies? It seems all the heroines have perfect nails. No worried to the quick, flaky, hangnail, or overgrown cuticle in sight. What’s up with that??

And as for hair. What, heroines can’t have hair colours of artificial means? ( Kick arse urban fantasy, fantasy and scifi chicks excepted, cause you know elves with pink hair are hawt.) Seriously, I can’t be the only author with hair an unnatural shade of purple or pink (depends on the week, heh 🙂 ), heck even an never-seen-in-nature shade of blonde… And just why-oh-why has colour treated hair become yet another sign of the villianess…or worse, the whore of the story?? But that’s a whole other post.

So yeah, I’ve decided I want to be a romance heroine because they have perfect hair (that glistens/shines/glints/curls softly/wonderfully sleek), perfect brows (no unibrows and stray curlies need apply, and we wont touch on *whispers* ‘down there’… cause frankly, I don’t wanna know), and wonderful strong, perfectly shaped nails. Because frankly, I don’t have none of that.

And I want it.

Really bad.