Held in Bristol on Saturday 3rd March, Eroticon is an all day event open to anyone writing about sex online from novice bloggers to published authors.
The schedules look great and includes workshops and panel sessions covering writing inspiration, tech-skills, photography, getting published and more.
In the evening I'm looking forward to relaxing with a glass of wine and listening to readings from the UK’s up and coming sex bloggers and writers and of course catching up with author friends.
There are lots of reasons to go not least because there is a £50 LoveHoney voucher for every delegate - yay!! - and Total-E-Bound are providing oodles of cakes and pastries to get the day off to a great start.
The sessions look awesome and I suspect it will be one of those times when I wish there were several more hours in the day!!
Here are just a few I will definitely be grabbing a front row seat at.
Identity, ethics and sex blogging : Zoe Margolis, Lori Smith, Molly Moore
Out or in? Real name or pen-name? Do you want your boss knowing what you did in or out of bed last night? And should you really name and shame the milkman? A discussion panel on identity and ethics, how it affects us as sex bloggers and those we write about.
Writing workshop : Maxim Jakubowski
A hands on workshop exploring ways to develop your writing and keep the creative juices flowing.
Taking Your Writing Beyond the Page: The Power of Collaboration : Scarlet French
Often writers can find themselves squirreled away, alone with their laptops. Yet, erotic writing is a genre that has enormous potential for collaboration.
As the study of human sexuality burgeons, so too does the range of therapies and practices available to enable people to tap in to their full potential – for sexual pleasure and for overall wellbeing. Scarlett believes that mindful erotic writings can contribute to the therapeutic process and aid the quest for sexual expansiveness.
In her talk, Scarlett explores this potential and discusses the power of collaborating with sex practitioners.
It’s Kink, Jim, but not as we know it : London Faerie
Fetish is everywhere these days: popularized by Torture Garden, co-opted by the media, an evergreen favourite with Tory MPs. Despite this it remains haunted by misconceptions and the pathologising influence of Freud, Kraft-Ebbing and the gang.
This mixture of fear and fascination can be confusing. Rather than getting hung up on it, London Faerie will demonstrate his fierce, playful, high-energy style of kink on a friend’s willing bottom, then answer questions about it afterwards. It’s Kink, Jim, but not as we know it.
Don't they sound all sound amazing?!? I will of course fill you in on all the gossip, but if you are within distance of Bristol on the 3rd of March then go grab yourself a ticket.
Now for the big question - what to wear????
How much can change in such a short time. And how much fun a person can have in the middle of it all.
Less than a year ago, I offered Three to Total E-Bound, trying not to get my hopes up too high, expecting a friendly “not for our readers” mail back. But no, within a week I got message they wanted it… after a few edits, and boy, were they right about that one. But I learned to love the modern day version of the red pencil, thanks to editors with the patience of true angels. Now, I find it honestly near impossible to be proud of anything I’ve written, but I have to admit, when Three was published in November 2011 it gave me a dang good feeling.
Encouraged by how welcoming the Total E-Bound bunch had been, I offered another story to TEB, and much to my joy, they contracted that too. The funny is that what started out as a short story will now be a series with at least three parts, of which the second part has just been, informally, accepted. And all because I wanted the story to have its own cover art. (okay, and Isaac and Tom insisted I wasn’t done with them yet)
The first part of Calling the shots, Facing the truth, will be out on March 12. It’s the start of the psychological, emotional and (hopefully) erotic journey of Isaac and Tom in the world of BDSM.
So, if you want to know if Tom ever learns how to truly submit to his Sir while remaining a strong and independent man, and if Isaac learns how to embrace his nature as dominant, I would say: start reading on March 12!
And I’m not nearly done writing.
Oh, you want a teaser of Facing the truth? Here you go! ;-)
Isaac Newhouse knew that voice like he knew his own thoughts. “Yes, Tom?”
“I was thinking… You’re not going to get angry at me? Or think I’m weird?” The twenty-two-year-old looked genuinely shy, and Isaac wondered if it was about something other than sex. Because after the vibrator, the blindfold and the handcuffs, what could possibly make Tom worried his lover would frown in disapproval?
“Why don’t you tell me? Probably the worst you’ll hear from me is ‘sorry, this time it’s no’. And you know very well there isn’t much of a chance of that. I admit I lack somewhat in the fantasy and imagination department, but luckily I have you for that.” Isaac smiled reassuringly. “Unless you’re asking me to go to a bar, pick up a stranger and have sex with him while you’re watching us, because that is one of the very few things I’m unable to give to you.”
“What…? You think I’m some pervert?” Tom huffed. “It’s nothing like that at all. I want you to tell me what to do. That’s all. As long as it has something to do with sex, of course, in case you’re thinking about the kitchen floor needing a good scrub.”
Many subs (or, to use a different term “bottoms”) who have experimented with BDSM achieve subspace, that psychological place where they “fly” or “float.” It can seem disconnected from reality, nothing exists but the moment. It’s an intense physical, psychological, mental, emotional reaction. Of course, a lot of BDSM scenes cause those kinds of sensations. Endorphins rush through the system, seemingly blocking pain, kind of like a drug in the sub’s system.
Subspace can be a sublime experience, but, at least for me, not something achieved all the time. I’m not sure about you, but I’m a pretty driven person in real life. I tend to be goal oriented. My schedule is packed tight, and I’ve built in rituals to make sure I stay on track and on target. BDSM takes me away from all of that.
I’ve learned that, for me, making subspace the goal of a scene causes disappointment. If I’m focused on the goal, I lose track of the moment. I’ve had to reset my expectations. If I reach that place of nirvana, fabulous. But I can achieve joy just from participating in a scene.
On the other hand, the really great news is this: there are other places in life where I can achieve the same kind of bliss.
From previous blog posts, you may recall I love to play racquetball and hike Colorado’s 14,000 foot peaks.
Last week, I met with my racquetball coach for a one hour lesson, then I played “challenge court” for several hours. I played doubles, partnered with some terrifically talented men. I realized that, by ten p.m., I had barely had anything to eat or drink for nearly four hours. I was drenched in sweat, and my legs were shaking so bad from exertion that I had a difficult time walking up the stairs at the gym.
Once those darned endorphins wore off, reality hit, and I was exhausted. My shoulder hurt. My muscles were burning. But until then, I had spent four hours “in the zone.” For me, the feeling of playing that much racquetball—something I love but is amazingly physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding—put me in the same state as an intense scene.
I sometimes achieve this kind of mental “flying” from writing. I can disappear into my characters and story, losing track of time, forgetting to eat.
At least for me, subspace and being “in the zone” are akin to an adrenaline high. I sometimes get it from skiing, as well. It’s like a white rush of fever.
Maybe that’s part of why I keep my life so disciplined. I like the emotional high that comes with intense focus. Yes, I know there’s more to life than an endorphin rush. So I try to take care of myself (sometimes easier said than done!). After all, when the next opportunity arises to “fly,” I want to enjoy it.
Here’s to YOUR bliss.
Gather around, everyone.
We're going to talk about sex toys.
I have gotten a lot of comments about one of my more recent works, A Week in the Snow. The majority of those comments seem to focus on one particular thing: the sex toy scene.
There are actually a few scenes in the book in which sex toys take center stage, but there is one in particular that has drawn comments. It's the scene where Richard gets a little...well, let's just say he gets a little education from his sweet Rebecca.
She pulled the vibrator out of the box and turned it on. Sitting back on the foot of the bed, she started with his feet. The vibrator made him jerk and squirm, but he did an admirable job of holding still. She ran it up his legs, over his hips, down the inside of his thighs. She barely touched his dick with it before she went up to his chest and played with his nipples until they were as hard as hers. Then she turned it off and held it above him, pressed the tip to his lips, and demanded: “Suck.”
To her surprise, Richard immediately opened his mouth and sucked in the tip of the vibrator. She thrust it gently in and out. “Have you ever sucked on a dick?” she asked.
He shook his head. No.
“Have you ever wanted to?”
The shake of his head was slower this time, but the answer was the same.
“Have you ever had a threesome?”
He shook his head again.
“Ever wanted one?”
His nod was vigorous and made her smile. She was enjoying her interrogation.
“Have you ever fucked a woman in the ass?”
“Has a woman ever fucked you in the ass?”
“Have you ever wanted a woman to fuck you in the ass?”
He hesitated, and Rebecca smiled.
“What if I said I wanted to fuck you with this?” she asked.
Richard slowly nodded.
“You would let me fuck your ass?”
He nodded again. She took the vibrator away.
“Because you can do whatever you want to do to me.”
“Would you like it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does it scare you?”
“Does it turn you on?”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
She sat beside him for a moment, studying his face, letting him wonder what was coming next. She knew the images in his mind would drive him crazier than her words would, and she gave him ample time to fuck with his own head. She pressed the vibrator to the centre of his chest and turned it on. He jerked like he had touched electrical current.
Rebecca smiled as she slid the vibrator down his body. When she reached his dick she carefully let the tip of the vibrator brush over the sensitive skin, and was rewarded with his loud groan. She reached into the toy box and found a bottle of lube. She didn’t bother to hide the squirting sounds as she covered the tip of the vibrator with the liquid.
“Spread your legs.”
I'm willing to bet you can guess what happens next!
The comments I have been getting about this scene are surprising. Several readers have said that it's unusual for a man to want to use sex toys -- that he has no problem using it on a partner, but he hesitates to use it on himself.
I suppose there could be all sorts of reasons for this, but the question that rattles around in my head is simply "Why? Don't they know what they're missing?"
So in honor of giving your partner a proper education, I challenge you to open up the toy box, pull out your favorite and give it a whirl on him. He might be completely surprised, but sometimes that's best, don't you think? A good surprise and pleasurable change in the usual can open up whole new worlds of fun.
Don't have a favorite? Now's the time to cuddle up next to him in bed with the laptop and point your mouse to your favorite sex toy store. Make sure to get something that can be used on him as well, such as a nice vibrator, a set of nipple clamps, maybe even one of those sexy toys made just for men...and when the goodies arrive, haul him to the bedroom, tie him to the bed and let the games begin.
And then write about it! Whether you put it into a book or a blog or a simple journal that you keep and look at from time to time, put all of that sexiness into words.
And if you want to share it with the rest of us, by all means, let's hear it!
The best thing about the weekend? Not having to go anywhere unless I absolutely want to!
Today, I thought I'd share some of my favorite male inspirations for the WIP's I'm currently working on.
What? I can hear some out there now. Longhand? What is this archaic word she uses? We know not this term. If this happens to be you, let me bring you up to speed - or rather, back in time. Longhand is the lost art of writing with pen and paper. No technology involved. And yes, I do spend a good chunk of my writing time, writing in longhand.
Computers came to me when I was in college. Before this time, we wrote our words out with pen, or if we were lucky and proficient enough (and could afford one), we used a typewriter. Oh boy, remember those days? With the advent of computers, life changed for every writer out there. Keyboards became friendlier, monitors easier to see and manipulate, and the programs became out of this world. Make a mistake, no problem, just backspace. You meant that paragraph to go down there, no problem, just cut and paste. And the list of writers-ease can go on and on.
I use these tools, don't let me fool you. I love sitting at my desk and blissfully typing away for hours - or as long as my hands/wrists will feel okay doing so. But from the time I could write my ABC's, I have always loved to write the same way I read: in comfort. I like to lay in the bed and write. I like to curl up on the couch and write. Sometimes I'll spread my papers on the dining room table and write. Then there's going places. The doctor's offices, the kids activities, rainy camping trips. Okay, I know there is technology out there that I could use in all these places, but it's not the same.
People who know me are not surprised to see me with a notebook in hand and a purse full of pens and pencils. I scribble constantly where ever I am. And about the places-around-the-home writing, sometimes I simply don't want to haul my laptop to the bed. I can't type the same; I've tried. You can't snuggle down with a keyboard in your curled up lap like you can a spiral notebook.
I don't write like this for everything, just those times when I need a keyboard break. Every time I do this, the next day I'll sit at the computer and my fingers will fly without breath as I take what I've handwritten and put it into a computer file. I use this as a first-round edit call as well. As I'm typing, if I don't like something I've handwritten, I'll go ahead and type the lines the way I know they'll be better. My method may seem tedious to some, but it works for me. Oftentimes, when I'm feeling really blocked by something in a story, abandoning the computer and heading off with pen and paper works wonders to open the walls. A change of pace, I suppose.
What about you? Am I the only one still upholding the art of longhand - or are there others out there like me, who still cling to this age-old method? I really want to know.
Thanks for stopping by, and here's to a wonderful Wednesday to all~
Today is another uniquely American holiday: President’s Day (i.e., also known among harried parents who just don’t feel the same patriotic glow of the Fourth of July or Veteran’s Day as “another frickin’ day when the kids are home from school”). My offspring – eighteen and sixteen, respectively – no longer require me to take the day off to be home with them, but stay home I did: my house has been quiet, both punkers off enjoying their (yet another) long weekend from school, me home happily writing.
My daughter shattered my groove for this latest WIP late this afternoon, trailing sand and the scent of salt water when she burst through the front door, her suntan lotion wafting in the air circulated about by every ceiling fan going at maximum speed in our South Florida home.
“What’re you working on?” she asked me. “And why are you watching that old Christmas movie?” She stuck one ear bud from my iPod into her own ear and leaned over to see what I was typing. “Wow,” she muttered, shaking her head. “No wonder you never what month it is anymore.”
She likes to pretend to be this stern task-mistress she envisions Becca to be. “So, Maria-Claire, will you have that Christmas story to me in time?” This she asks in a god-awful British accent, shaking her finger at me.
I give her the finger back and return to my holiday playlist and Christmas movies, but back she comes. “Should we light the menorah too?” she cackled.
Ignoring my “I’m pretending to be mad” look, she told me – still in her best British voice, “The beach was fab today.” She headed out to our pool, me trailing after her, intent on catching the last warmth of the day, the air cool but the sun still warm on our skin.
She cackled at me on more time over the faint strains of winter holiday music coming from the DVD still playing inside. “Well, Mom, genius is only 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, right? At least we live in the right climate for that perspiration part. Ho ho ho!”
Having worked out that my kid just – albeit nicely – dissed me, I refused to let her turn the holiday carols off.
My son walked in not an hour ago, confused. “Why in the world are you listening to Christmas music?”
My daughter didn’t miss a beat. “Mom’s perspiring for her next story!”
I threw in the towel....
* * *
Looking for some appropriate eye-candy? Look no further that the "Hottie of The Week" to your right ;)
Is it ever too late for Valentine sentiments? I don't think so. I recently had the unfortunate experience of getting into a fight with a close friend. It hurt so much more, for both of us, because we know and care so much for each other, we know exactly how to hurt each other. I consider myself fortunate to have such a great friend that we can go through that and come out of it still saying, although grudgingly at the moment "ya love you too" But we did and I am very glad, life wouldn't be the same without friends so great that you can be completely honest with them and say, "hey you're being an idiot" and they can come back with "ya so are you."
It's not that I don't know anything about vampires, on the contrary, I seem to know too much about them. I've probably read more novels and seen more films with vampires in them than any other paranormal creature. And that seems to be precisely the problem: there are just so many different types! There don't seem to be any clear genre conventions on what vampires can or cannot do.
If you're into vampires and romance fiction, you've probably read (and love) Lynsay Sands' Argeneau novels (as do I). And if you've read them, you'll know that she created a whole new world of vampire conventions and that there are a lot of things to think about in terms of your fictional vampire's abilities. For example: will your vampire be able to go out in the sunlight? If so, how will you explain this ability and, maybe even more importantly, how will you explain away the age-old tradition of vampire stories that contradict this possibility? How will they get their blood? What happens when they bite someone? Will that person turn into a vampire too? Will they kill their victims? How will they make new vampires? Will they be allergic, spiritually opposed to or totally unaffected by typical vampire counter-measures like crosses, garlic, mirrors...? Will it be necessary to kill them (the bad ones) and how can they be killed? Will they have mortal enemies? Will their bodies be differnt from those of human beings? How so? Will they have special powers like super-human strength or mind control? How to incorporate these into the story? These latter three raise even more pressing questions when it comes to vampire erotica: what about their sexual abilities (think super-human stamina and no need for sleep and the old phrase of "keeping it up all night" gets a whole new meaning. I mean, even no-sex-before-marriage Stephenie Meyer came to that conclusion in vol. 4 of the Twilight series!). I don't know about you, but I've never had sex with a vampire and have to draw on my imagination rather than on any previous experience here.
The sexy kind, obviously. The one on the left would definitely qualify (I'm totally with Buffy on that point).
So, what's your kind of vampire? Any particular characteristics that he/she should have? Anything that you find totally unconvincing in terms of vampire conventions?
I'd love to hear your opinion in the comments.
Want more strange ramblings? Mina Dorian can usually be found here: http://minadorian.blogspot.com/.
Or come back here next month on the 19th.
…increasing the sizzle factor
Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe
Free Reads Site: http://www.satinnotes.com/
Help! Help! My hair is on fire! I haven’t written a blog post!!!
Tall, dark and handsome man enters room and places large mug of coffee on table (Double Dutch Chocolate with Irish Cream creamer) and says:
“There, there darling…here’s your coffee. If you write the blog post I’ll make sure you have a very interesting afternoon.”
Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome exits room, whistling. He’s wearing nothing but a chef’s apron and the view is…inspiring.
Now, where were we?
Blog post, right, deep breath…I can do this.
Sit me down with someone who’s foolish enough to ask me about my writing and within minutes their eyes glaze over and they don’t realise the ripe runny brie they took from the cheeseboard has just run off the cracker. They smile politely. I see the spinach they had with dinner, wedged between their teeth but I don’t mind…I’m on a roll and I’m talking about my writing. Then…The Question…
“What do you write?”
Time was I would’ve blushed, spluttered, pointed to the pig flying past the window and told them I wrote romance and left it at that. When I wrote the first draft of ‘Stolen Summer’, I was living in Arizona. I worked with a couple of proper cowboys, the real deal – Wranglers, starched shirts, black hats and work boots. When I told them I was writing a story about two men who fell in love with each other, the reaction was outright horror and revulsion. Their response made me realise that not everyone is open-minded enough to deal with that kind of thing.
I didn’t let it bug me. After all, ‘Stolen Summer’ was meant to be a one-off. I didn’t have another LGBT story in me. I had a nifty contemporary womens’ fiction to shop around to agents, I was going to be mainstream come hell or high water. But, the best laid plans and all that… I wrote ‘Orion Rising’ and while I was writing that, I had another idea which eventually became ‘Mourning Jack’. Now I’m addicted to the m/m genre and I don’t see that changing any time soon.
Now, when people ask me what I write, I tell them the truth. So far, the reaction has been very positive. Hell, thanks to my husband, just about everyone in our village knows that his reclusive wife sits at home and writes novels about men who love each other very much. No one has egged the house, painted ‘smut peddler’ on the car or given me the cold shoulder in the village shop. The landlord of the local pub always asks me how the writing is going and my husband is always happy to keep him informed. This makes me very happy and proud of the genre I’ve made my home. So I guess I’ll be writing m/m romance for the foreseeable future.
“Okay, over my knee, now.”
I hesitated. I was afraid I’d hurt him. I’m not a waif of a woman by any stretch of the
imagination and I didn’t want my first proper sexual interaction with the lads to turn into a
farce. “Matt, are you sure? I’m not so very light, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Now!” he snapped. “Get over my lap, girl, and stop with the insubordination. You will
call me ‘sir’ and you will do what I say as soon as I say it. That was your first and last
warning, Miss Black. “
“Yes, sir.” I rushed the last few steps over to him.
He’d pulled his chair away from the desk and turned it to the right. After opening the
door. Connor sat in the same spot I’d occupied the day before. I draped myself over Matt’s
lap with my more anonymous end pointing towards the door. If anyone came past they
wouldn’t instantly know it was me.
“That’s better. Let’s have that level of obedience immediately in future, Miss Black.”
“Yes, sir.” My fingers brushed against the floor and I pressed them down to help me
balance. The blood rushed to my head as it hung, and for a moment I regretted my decision
to go through with this whole crazy dare.
Matt raised my short skirt over my buttocks. A zing of pure sexual arousal filled my
body with warmth.
My hot bottom was over-sensitized, and a melting heat flared up inside of me that shot pleasure straight from my pussy to my brain and everywhere in between.
“I think she's getting it now, boss,” Connor exclaimed with glee. “Her face is glowing
“She's a natural,” Matt added. “A real slut who just needed opportunity to shine.”
I felt strangely proud of that twisted comment and revelled in it as I took my last few
And it only gets hotter! Who'd like a copy of this hot menage treat? If you'd like to win a copy please comment on this post and tell me what you prefer, raunch or romance? I'll draw the winner Sunday 19th February and contact the winner by email!
©2012 Jude Mason
If you'd like to see more of my writing, please visit either my website:
Or, go to my page on the Total E-Bound website:
I'm using the bear first here, because that search topic even in google was not cool. Some of those pics? Ew. But I found some good ones. Here's some fun one-liners for them, too.
I'm going to love you and hug you and cuddle you and name you George and you will be my baby.
My head hurts. Just let me rub it on you to make it feel better.
Promise me you're not going to snore and we'll get along just fine.
Come on baby... whaddaya mean you're not interested in a foursome? I'm prepped and ready!
Here's a little about me and my latest release:
What happens when two opposites realize they have more in common than expected?
I’m a dancer, a damn good one if you asked. I work at the Silver Steel Gentlemen’s Club. My hard and fast rule? No freebies and no office dating. Except for Slade. Hard, fast, slow, gentle...I don’t care. I’ll take him any way possible. But he’s not that in to me.
Or so she thinks. I’m a bouncer at the Silver Steel. Astra doesn’t realize I see her. I can’t help myself. She captivates me every time she’s on the stage. I want her, but I have a...problem. I’m not at the Steel to pick up chicks or even work the room. I’m there to stop the influx of drugs into the community. Yeah, I’m a cop. But if the job means sampling the dancers... As long as I keep my heart out of it, I’ll be fine.
This book has a kick ass hero, a dancer with all the right moves, hot sex, a little mutual anal play for good measure and mention of drug use.
I always dreamed of writing the stories in my head. Tall, dark, and handsome heroes are my favorites, as long as he has an
independent woman keeping him in line. I tend to write books with titles taken from songs because music is one of my many muses.
I earned a BA in education and as well as a Masters in Education. I've tried my hand at teaching, waitressing, and retail sales, but writing holds my heart.
I love NASCAR, romance, books in general, farmland, dirt racing, and my menagerie of animals. I books under contract with Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books, and the Wild Rose Press. But then again, I've got more stories percolating than my brain can handle. I can't wait to share them with you!
Wendi Zwaduk - Romance to Make Your Heart Race
Also writing as Megan Slayer - Sometimes It's Fun to Squirm
Friend us both on FaceBook and Follow us on Twitter!
Its always better on dirt!
Since it's a new year I treated myself to a new calendar. I picked one of those with pictures of pretty boys which, as a matter of fact, was a strictly professional choice - I do need some inspiration occasionally after all. That calendar's been put up in the hall (no point having a calendar you don't get to see) so I get an eyeful whenever I go to the kitchen. Incidentally I do not go there more often now although, admittedly, it is possible that it takes me just a tad longer these days to make it through the hall.
Anyway, when I flipped over Mr January last week, I thought that February looked somehow familiar, but I just couldn't place him, which didn't come as much of a surprise as I'm not exactly keeping the company of calendar models.
So I walked past him a couple of times a day, simply admiring the view until, at around five-thirty last Friday morning, cup of coffee in hand, I caught another glimpse as I strode down the hall (No, I wasn’t loitering. Definitely not. Not even just a little...) and just like that, I recognised him at last.
His name is Harley. He's actually a pilot, sexy as sin and - surprise! - the main character of a book I'm currently working on. No kidding, it is him, even if he looks a little younger in that photo than he does in my head.
What do you make of this? Coincidence? Projection? A delusion of a somewhat hyper active author's mind? I am currently working on three books simultaneously after all - no make that four. One story is supposed to come in two volumes.
Either way, two more details to mull about: Harley's actually been around since last year, so long before I even had that calendar and he did some glamour modelling when he was younger...
My husband and I have been passing a cold back and forth for the past month. As a result, rather than a head full of ideas, I have spent the last four weeks working with a head full of gunk.
If it wasn’t for the stash of Dayquil I brought home from my holiday in New York, I’d never get anything done. I work 9-5 at my day job, come home, look at the computer and think UGH. Add this to my usual meds for chronic back pain and we have a recipe for disaster. I sit in front of the screen, tissues to the left of me, Lemsip to the right, stuck in the middle with woman-flu.
I’ve discovered two techniques to force myself onward in this situation. One is to give myself a word count – at least 500 words a day. The other is to give myself a time limit. As I share a computer with my husband, this isn’t hard to do. I tell him he can have the PC in an hour, and then I get down to it, because if I gave myself the whole evening I would end up surfing instead.
How does everyone else force themselves to work when they feel like death?
And does anyone know a good way of getting rid of a cold??