Celebration - Catching Our Breath

By Kerry Schafer 

 The Holidays for me are an odd mix of bustle and relaxation, celebration and winding down. I love Christmas - the light, the color, the music, the secrets, the food, the family. Pretty much all of it. And we had it all this year, in abundance. Between us the Viking and I have four sons - we've never had them all here for Christmas before, and this year we did. In itself, this was a celebration - nothing like having all of your offspring together under one roof. But Christmas is over now, New Years is waiting in the wings. It's a quiet space for me where the tree begins to look a little sad and I have nagging guilt thoughts that I should maybe take it down, which is just so much less fun than putting it up. The last few dark mornings I forgot to turn the tree lights on. Denial at work - if it's dark in that corner, maybe it isn't really there requiring my attention. A few random packages still linger beneath it, things that need to be put away, and I'm not ready to do that yet either. It will keep until after the New Year, which is the next round of celebration. Not that we do much with it here, I'm afraid. The Viking and I, who seldom sleep past 5 am no matter how late we stay up, have a tendency to fall asleep before the New Year rolls in. We don't have a party, or go to one. The kids like to set off fireworks in the snow, which is actually really cool to watch. The real celebration for us is in having time off work to be together, gratitude for the blessings of the last year, and in wondering what awaits us in the year ahead. I wish for all of you a year full of goals achieved and dreams come true.

Floating Celebration

The holidays this year were a great unknown. It was our first winter living aboard the boat. We'd always been in a condo or a house to this point. We had no clue what to expect. Here's what we got:

The lighted dinghy parade. Liveaboards throughout the marina (and this is a BIG marina with lots of people living aboard their boats) gather, deck out their dinghies and then parade through the marina, up and down all the water ways, blasting Christmas carols, waving and hollaring up to the rest of us who aren't in the parade about 'where's your dinghy?' First: no motor. Not rowing the entire marina. Second: no battery in our dinghy - see the first excuse - we'd have no lights or visible decorations without those things. Third: I'd have had to inflate the silly thing to make it sea worthy again. That's gonna have to wait for spring.

Boaters throughout the marina, regardless of liveaboard status (though mostly the liveaboards do this) light up their big boats, too. Here's a selection of Christmas Eve photos when we went walking the docks to look at lights.

Christmas light strung up the mast on the sailboats.

One overachiever wired a lighted Christmas tree to the top of his mast - that's the bright blob. I liked the lighted circles someone else has run up their rigging. Nice effect.

This one ran his lights along his rigging and spreaders so the lights formed Christmas trees. That's a prelit star at the top of the mast.

And this is our boat with LED snowflakes around the lifelines and red LEDs going up the backstay. The blue LEDs are a boat across from us. It's been festive - especially since darkness gathers at around 4pm in our area. Lots of hours to look at the pretty lights. Naturally, now that the season is over and I contemplate taking down the lights, I find the box insert for the snowflake lights. "Indoor Use Only" it says. Uhm. Oops. I do not want to celebrate by being a short, horrifying reel of cautionary footage on the evening news. Perhaps I'll unplug those very, very carefully before I take them down. Wonder if those lights have anything to do with why the electricians came around today load testing all of the power sockets on the dock...

What's the saying? It's not a celebration until someone blows something up?

Needless to say, all of this holiday lighting (let's make the marina visible from SPACE!) is compensation for our lack of traditional decorating options. Few of us can swing the space for trees - with the exception of the guy wiring one to his mast...A few people wired trees up on their foredecks, but a tree out in the marine environment which means seagull poop and otters doing obscene things to tree branches? I'll pass.

We made up for it with food. Each week in December, we picked a holiday favorite and made it. Crab dip. White chocolate, Clementine and Croissant french toast, Cherry Ring for Solstice and cinnamon rolls on Christmas Day. We spread out the holiday. Had to do that - I have a two burner stove and an oven the size of a bread box. For holiday baking, my mother and I scheduled a bake-a-thon weekend at her house. Between us, we went through 10lbs of sugar and way too much butter and flour. It was fun. It was contained to a single weekend and then, we were done. Worked beautifully. So how does one decorate a boat for the holidays where there's limited power and space?

We strung Christmas cards along the bulkhead and hung our stockings from the hatch handles. Naturally, no holiday is complete without a geek setting up his World of Warcraft characters for their holiday presents in game. It was fun. All of it. Even the wind storm that blew in Christmas morning just as we were washing up breakfast dishes. We were able to catch a ferry across to go visit my family and have Christmas dinner on dry land. Everyone was tired, but happy. And ultimately, that's what counts.

Christmas Aftermath

by Allison Pang

This is one of those times of year I have a love-hate relationship with.

On one hand, I do tend to get fairly jaded with the commercialism of the time. (I feel that way about most holidays, I guess - being obligated to act a certain way simply because we're supposed to. And yeah, that's probably me being a bit more grinchy then I should be.) And some years are better than others - the moment just clicks and it's all Silent Nights and O Christmas Tree and there's snow and lights and it's fun.

But sometimes it's more just like feeling the holidays are a hassle. They "get in the way" of everything I have to do. (Or just pile onto the load - whether that's having to clean or cook or wrap or whatever. And shopping for the kids is both fun and sometimes hellish - if you've ever been to a Toys-R-Us in that last week before Christmas, you know what I mean. Between the lines, the overpriced toys, the extra batteries, etc, etc. - it can be a nightmare of monstrous proportions.)

And family. Great if you all get along, but not so much if you don't. (And being married to a cop - well, let's just say there's a lot of domestic disputes that get called in around the holidays. Probably more when there's snow than not, but get a bunch of family all squished in and cranky with cabin fever/mixed with alcohol == someone's getting a frying pan lobbed at their head for cooking runny eggs.)

But maybe that's really the more important thing about these moments in time. Maybe it's less about what they're "supposed" to be and more what you make of them...whatever that happens to be.

This year it was all about the Air Swimmer. (Trying to get some video footage of me flying it around.) And sure, Santa brought it, but thus far? I'm the one grinning like a mad idiot and flying it around my living room.

And yes, the irony that I'd be playing with something that I often have nightmares about isn't lost on me, but maybe there's something to that too.

** artwork was a gift from Aimo (it's Dragon Age fangirl foolishness, but I lurve it.)

CELEBRATION

The celebrating in full swing and shows no sign of stopping. I love it!

As the pre-season preparations were in the works, I had the pleasure of spending some time in the company of good people and good beer. On one occasion I tried SAM ADAM's BLACK & B

REW COFFEE STOUT and their CHOCOLATE BOCK. Both very nice.

On another fine evening I tried MAGIC HAT's HOWL, a black lager. Very tasty. So much so I went and bought some to keep on hand at home.

For the kick-off, I hosted a Winter Solstice gathering and my friends made it fantastic and

beautiful in spite of the swampy condition of my yard. (Held the party in my detached garage with the wood-burning stove.) I want to think my chili helped make the event yummy, but there were sooo many goodies that made the evening especially delicious.

***Yes, that picture is upside down. I don't know why and have tried to fix it. I am not techy. I will ask for that skill next year for Yule. :-)***

Follow that with the jolly old fat man's big day: Christmas. My boys, my family, the food...it's impossible for Christmas day to be anything but awesome in every way.

Then, WICKED CIRCLE's official release day was yesterday. SQUEE!

Congrats to my pal LUCY SNYDER on the release of SWITCHBLADE GODDESS as well. :-D

I'm planning to spend New Year's Eve celebrating with the band, friends, and fellow musicians kind of having our own mix and match jam night. I can't wait. Then there's the Cleveland Pagan and Witches Ball January 7th. Oh, yeah, and my birthday.

Maybe I can rest up after that.

This time of year is always full of celebration, but this year has highlighted what the season means to me, Spending time with those you care for most. Even without our customary snowy blankets of white on the ground, I am grateful for this.

Joining friends for festive dinners out across the season has, so far, held some marvelous surprises. It's the unexpected kindnesses that have the most impact. When you don't see it coming, it's more memorable. I've been a blessed recipient and I hope I've managed to give back unexpectedly as well.

May all of you be the recipient of kindness and love this season--and may all those you give kindness and love to appreciate it as grandly--because that's what's really worth celebrating.

Wicked Celebrations at the Zoo

By KAK 

The end of the year brings the lull between Christmasallmighty Chaos and New Yahoo’s Debauchery. These five days of the work week are the most quiet of the year … unless you work in a “save the Stupids from themselves” business. (I’m looking at you customer service reps, law enforcement, and health care professionals.)

On the home front, we’re scraping charred gravy off the burners, washing red wine out of the curtains, sorting recyclable wrapping paper from plastic wrap, and watching “Best of 2011” shows. Some of us are headed back home from the holidays, some of us are extending our leisure.

This week, we sneak in the final gluttonies before committing to dreaded New Year = New Me resolutions.

However you say goodbye to the time that was, be certain you greet the time to come with today’s fabulous releases by two of your beloved Word Whores:

James R. Tuck’s new eNovella “THAT THING AT THE ZOO"
Shredding monsters is his stock and trade. He sniffs them out, tracks them down, and corners them. End of story. But when the tables are turned, expect the unexpected.

Knowing his enemy is a rule Deacon Chalk swears by. But he's never seen anything like whatever is leaving the Atlanta Zoo's most dangerous predators bloodless, skinned, and hanging high in treetops. And he’s only got till sunrise to keep it from turning the entire city into a slaughterhouse. Now Deacon is in zoo lockdown with a handful of staffers to save. His zookeeper backup has more guts than monster-hunting experience. And the only chance Deacon has to run this thing to unholy ground is to risk unleashing his darkest, most uncontrollable instincts.
Click here to read yesterday’s post for an excerpt.




Linda Robertson’s WICKED CIRCLE, Book 5 in the Persephone Alcmedi series:
Is a little time alone with the man you love too much to ask?Well, it may be—when you’re Persephone Alcmedi, Lustrata of the witches, and your lover is Domn Lup of the wærewolves. For once, however, the disturbance is not Seph’s foster daughter, Beverly, her wacky grandmother, or her newly rediscovered mother. This time, it’s the ancient and incredibly sexy vampire Menessos, bearing bad news: because the vampire council fears he is plotting a power grab, Menessos is being hunted by a trio of truth-seeking vampire sisters so dangerous they are usually kept locked in stone.His dreams imperiled, Menessos needs Seph more than ever . . . and she needs him. Now, Seph has magical promises to fulfill for the wæres, multiple mundane family challenges to meet, vampire politics to confront . . . and into the bargain she’s balancing two sexy supernatural males. It’s enough to drive any woman insane, especially when you throw in a dragon and—even worse—a government investigator. As danger threatens, Seph isn’t sure she can stay alive for the rest of the day . . . let alone long enough to accomplish all that needs to be done.


Buy at BN.com            Buy at Amazon.com

Go forth. Purchase. Imbibe. Do all those naughty things whilst you can before the New Year Infant demands constant attentions.

I have spice balls and Yuletide brandy to savor whilst I read.

AN UNEXPECTED SUPRISE

Well, I certainly hope that each and everyone of you had a very Happy Holiday, whichever of the multitude available you celebrate. It was a very nice Christmas and Hanukkah around the Tuck house.

So here was a little surprise that I discovered just 3 days ago.

Apparently the E-novella prequel to the Deacon Chalk series I write goes on sale TOMORROW! This was supposed to come out later in January, but I guess the good folks at Kensington moved it up so that folks could use their gift card and new devices for it.

It's called THAT THING AT THE ZOO and it is up now for preorder on Barnes and Noble. It was up on Amazon, but there was a glitch. I am sure Kensington will fix it today and when they do I will drop the link here. But for now, you Nookies can preorder it. (see link below)

So here is what THAT THING AT THE ZOO is about:

Shredding monsters is his stock and trade. He sniffs them out, tracks them down, and corners them. End of story. But when the tables are turned, expect the unexpected.

Knowing his enemy is a rule Deacon Chalk swears by. But he's never seen anything like whatever is leaving the Atlanta Zoo's most dangerous predators bloodless, skinned, and hanging high in treetops. And he’s only got till sunrise to keep it from turning the entire city into a slaughterhouse. Now Deacon is in zoo lockdown with a handful of staffers to save. His zookeeper backup has more guts than monster-hunting experience. And the only chance Deacon has to run this thing to unholy ground is to risk unleashing his darkest, most uncontrollable instincts.


And now for a handy excerpt.

I moved away from the wall. My legs made long strides across the grass, the smell of piss fading as I walked. Jimmy the zookeeper hustled to catch up with me. He was breathing hard by the time he did, doing a jog-step to keep pace.
“What the hell are you doin’ now?”
“We need some bait. This thing likes to swoop down and grab its victim.”
“But you had me lock up all the animals so they would be safe from it.”
Listening to the night air, not looking at him, I drew out the Bowie knife. “I know.”
“So what are you gonna use for bait?”
“Us.” The silver edge gleamed in the full moonlight as I laid it against the skin of my forearm. I keep my knives sharp so there was only a thin flash of burn as I drew it across my arm. The tattooed skin parted, blood welling up behind the slice of the blade. I didn’t cut deep, but it bled freely, running red rivulets down my arm, filling my palm, and dripping off my fingers.
A flick of my hand sent droplets of my blood arcing out onto the grass around us. I try to keep my blood. Too many things out there can use your blood to harm you, but once it hits the earth its magickal properties are grounded out unless it is being used in ritual. This wasn’t ritual; it was bait. Chum in the water so to speak. The cut stopped bleeding, so I wiped the blood off on my jeans.
I turned to Jimmy the zookeeper. “Get ready. I don’t think it will be long.” No, not long at all. The hair on my arms was standing on end, static electricity crackling between each one like tiny Tesla coils. My ability to sense supernatural stuff was wide open and I could feel something coming closer. In my mind’s theater I felt leather and fur rub along the inside of my skin. A crunchy taste filled my mouth, sucking out all the moisture, like eating too much roasted coconut. Whatever we were after was headed our way.
Something flashed into existence over the scent mark on the wall, moving so quick and silent it seemed to appear from thin air. It was black against the white-washed wall, hanging by a hooked claw. I heard it draw a long inhale through its lungs. It snorted and shook its head, not liking that its scent mark had been desecrated. One inhumanly quick pull swung it to the top of the wall where it squatted, a dark shape against the low moon.
Its head swung slowly from the left to the right, mouth open, breathing in the night scent through glistening fangs. Large triangular ears ran from cheekbones to the top of its flattened skull. A low screech followed the turn of its head, like the rusty screen door on Hell. Its face came around to our direction, low cry vibrating my skin with sound waves. They passed over me as it continued to turn its head. Immediately that monstrous face snapped back towards us and snarled. Red eyes glowed with a satanic light, throwing ruby highlights across a flattened snout and curving wet teeth.
The beast rose, standing on the wall. Clawed arms whipped over its head. The moonlight glowed through thin membrane wings that stretched from knotted hands to cadaverous waist, black veins traced through in relief. One wing was torn, a rip in its center that the moon shone through. It was covered in patches of greasy rat fur, glistening in the night. Where it had skin, it was bare and mottled gray. Anatomy showed it was female, breasts hanging pendulous in a mockery of womanhood. It once was human. It once was alive. Now it was neither. I knew exactly what we were up against.
Nos-fer-fucking-atu.
Pulling down on the slide, I checked the shotgun to make sure there was a shell in the chamber.
Bring it on, bitch.



FOR MORE GO BUY THE E-NOVELLA FROM OH AND IT IS ONLY $.99! Less than a buck gets you a great slice of kick-ass urban fantasy!

HERE


And don't forget that my fellow Word Whore Linda Robertson has a release coming out tomorrow also! So pick up THAT THING AT THE ZOO by James R. Tuck (me) AND grab a copy of WICKED CIRCLE by Linda Robertson!

Celebrating

by Jeffe Kennedy

I get Christmas Day??

Somehow this sums up my whole year. So many good things have happened. So many awful things have happened. It's far from my usual Christmas that I'm sitting here, at nearly midnight, writing a blog post.

And yet...

I'm celebrating.

Had tonight gone as planned, I'd have been out late and tumbled into bed, hopefully to fling this post up in the morning. Tonight, though, my mom wasn't feeling well enough to go do what we had planned, so we stayed in and opened gifts instead.

I was glad.

Glad because ten days ago, she nearly died. She had pulmonary embolisms and the doctor said if she'd been any less healthy, she would have dropped dead. She didn't.

And so we celebrate.

I think of all the years, all the Christmases she made special. Every Christmas morning filled with magic and love came so much from her. And now, thanks to the technological miracles of clotbusters and blood thinners, she's alive and well. A little tired is just fine.

Christmas gets a bad rap, and maybe it should. For the commercialism, the tawdriness, the bottom line. But it's also about the love and togetherness. It's the bright lights and the colorful ribbons. The thoughtful gifts. I took this photo of the tree with my amazing new camera tripod from my thoughtful aunt.

I may also have a new telephoto lens that goes up to 600. For reference, my previous best lens went to 140. Oh yeah - I'm gonna be rocking this new lens from my mom and stepdad.

Most of all, though, it's planning menus with my mom. Shopping the store and making the food.

Every time together is a celebration.

As it should be.

Merry merry!

Hot Fudge and Home Made Ice Cream

By Kerry Schafer 

So many chocolate recipes, only one blog. I've spent the week running through recipes in my head, trying to choose which one to post. Most of mine aren't fancy. I went through a phase as a teenager where I spent my weekends making 10 egg cakes. Hey, we had chickens and a surplus of eggs, and it was sort of magical to blend ingredients in just the perfect way and produce some light and fluffy concoction that would melt in my mouth. Cake for breakfast? Yes, please. But I'm a whole lot busier now. Eggs are expensive. And I'm trying not to eat the things that make me grow in the wrong direction. So the recipes that tend to stay with me are my childhood classics. One of these is homemade hot fudge sauce, invariably paired with homemade ice cream. When I think of making ice cream, mind you, I'm not picturing any handy dandy high falutin' electric no mess process. Here's what I remember: A house full of friends on a dark winter Saturday night. My brother taking a feedsack and the axe down to the pond, where he'd break up ice to fill the sack and lug it back up to the house. Hammering it into little chunks of ice, which then filled the hand crank ice cream maker. Tons of rock salt on the ice. Kids spelling each other off turning and turning and turning the hand crank until it got so stiff we could turn it no more. And then. Toasty warm house. Deliciously cold sweet ice cream topped with thick and gooey hot fudge. Yeah. Oh, and then the pleasure of sneaking into the fridge later and eating that fudge by the spoonful. So, without more ado, the recipes. Hot Fudge: 1 1/2 c. canned milk 2 c. sugar 4 oz. unsweetened chocolate 1/2 tsp salt 1/4 c butter 1 tsp vanilla Heat milk and sugar to a rolling boil, stirring constantly. Boil for 1 minute. Add chocolate and salt and stir until melted. Wire whip until smooth, then remove from heat. Add vanilla and butter. Ice Cream 1 can Eagle Brand 1 1/2 pints cream add enough milk to make 5 cups 1 Tbsp vanilla small pinch salt. Mix well. Pour into the compartment of an ice cream maker and freeze. Whatever you eat or don't eat, whatever you celebrate or don't - I wish for everybody warmth and joy over the holidays.

Molten Lava Chocolate Cake

Chocolate is a little like wine. Every year, growing conditions turn out a different crop with different flavors. Some shops, like Boehms in Issaquah, WA offer varietals - chocolate from specific growing regions. All with different nuances of flavor. My favorite, when I could still eat chocolate, was the stuff from Hawaii.

Every year, many of the major cooking magazines (Fine Cooking, Cooks Illustrated, Chocolatier, etc) review chocolates. They rate the best baking chocolate (dark and milk) and the best cocoa powders. The winners vary year to year depending on how the manufacturers blend their product and depending on how the growing conditions affected flavor for the year. Yes. Once upon a time, until chocolate abruptly became a migraine trigger for me a year or two ago, I took cooking with chocolate very, very seriously. I can honestly say that spending the time and trouble to acquire the year's best chocolate makes all the difference in the world when you're looking for an overwhelming chocolate experience.

Since the tragic day I sort of redefined 'death by chocolate' (when that initial migraine hit along with the awareness of what had caused it, I admit to spending an hour wishing I were dead...then the meds kicked in and I got over it), everyone has been very considerate about not asking me to make chocolate goods for them anymore. Except at Christmas. My beloved husband wouldn't dream of asking me to make chocolate when he knows I can't indulge...but he also knows he won't have to, because the rest of my family will. So here it is. The one recipe I cannot escape.

It's a pull out from Food and Wine Magazine.
Molten Lava Chocolate Cake with Chambord Truffle Center
Truffle Center
3/4 heavy cream
8 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped (chips are fine, but go with the best quality you can find - it really makes a difference)
2 ounces Chambord

Cakes
2/3 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup Valrohna cocoa powder
8 ounces semisweet baking chocolate, chopped
5 ounces unsalted butter, cut into pieces
3 large eggs
2 egg yolks
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 vanilla bean pulp

Truffle center: Heat heavy cream to a boil and pour over chopped chocolate. Let sit for 2 minutes. Whisk in Chambord until smooth. Pour onto a sheet pan lined with parchment papger. Place in the freezer for 10-15 minutes until set. Once set, portion into twelve 1-ounce portions (about 1 heaping tablespoon). Round into balls, using your hands. Freeze until cakes are ready.

Cakes: Preheat oven to 325. Grease a 12-cup nonstick muffin pan with butter (or cheat like I do and use Baker's Joy - brilliant stuff.) Sift flour and cocoa together and set aside. Melt the chocolate with the butter over a double boiler. Place the eggs, yolks, sugar and vanilla pulp into the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. Beat at medium speed until mixture is slightly frothy. Add the melted chocolate mixture at medium speed and mix until combined. Continue to mix at low speed, adding the sifted ingredients until smooth. Portion into the prepared muffin pan evenly. Bake for 5 mintues. Remove pan from oven and place on truffle into the center of each cake about halfway down. Return pan to oven and bake for 15-17 minutes. Check for doneness in cake, not truffle center. Allow to cool slightly and unmold.

CAUTION: that molten goo in the center will be HOT. These things are rich. We serve them with a dollop of whipped cream on the side.

Also note that this recipe is worth checking chocolate reviews for and then getting the best chocolate you can find. You'll likely have to order Valrohna cocoa powder from an online source in advance, so plan ahead - but the flavor difference is huge. With as much semisweet chocolate as is required for this recipe, you'll be happiest with a super good quality chocolate there, too. Some of the magazines post their reviews online. Happy chocolate!

Minty

by Allison Pang

This is going up a little later than I originally anticipated. Been waiting on a family recipe that hasn't come through yet, so I'm going to have to wing it a little. And by wing it, I mean blatantly find what I'm looking for online and post it here.

But anyway, one of my favorite Christmas treats growing up was Andies Candies. Which I realize is a pretty common after-dinner mint - but we only ever seemed to have them around this time of year. (And for some reason, candy always seemed to taste better in the "special" holiday wrappers.

And there's plenty of things you can make with them, though to be honest, I always just like them in their little simplistic form.

However. Every year, my aunt makes these mint fudge brownie square cookie things...that are basically like eating a giant version of the candy. She gave a us a pan last year and it probably only lasted like 6 hours because I *really* like them.

*ahem*

Lifting this version from the Joy of Baking, in the meantime...

Chocolate Mint Brownies: Preheat oven to 325 degrees F (160 degrees C) and place the rack in the center of the oven. Have ready a 9 x 9 inch (23 x 23 cm) square baking pan that has been lined with aluminum foil across the bottom and up two opposite sides of the pan. Set aside.

Brownies: In a stainless steel (heatproof) bowl placed over a saucepan of simmering water, melt the butter and chocolate. Remove from heat and stir in the sugar and vanilla extract. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well (with a wooden spoon) after each addition. Stir in the flour and salt and beat, with a wooden spoon, until the batter is smooth and glossy and comes away from the sides of the pan (about one minute). Pour the brownie batter evenly into the prepared pan.

Bake in the preheated oven for about 25 minutes or until the brownies start to pull away from the sides of the pan and the edges of the brownies are just beginning to brown. A toothpick inserted in the center of the brownies will come out almost clean. Remove from oven and place on a wire rack to completely cool.

Mint Layer: In the bowl of your electric mixer, or with a hand mixer, beat all the ingredients until smooth. Add a few drops of green food coloring if you want the frosting green. If the frosting is too thick, add a little extra cream. (The frosting should be just thin enough to spread.) Spread the frosting evenly over the cooled brownie layer. Place in the refrigerator for about 5-10 minutes or until firm.

Chocolate Glaze: In a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water, melt the chocolate and butter. Spread over the mint filling and refrigerate for about 30 minutes or until the chocolate glaze starts to dull.
To Serve: Remove the brownies from the pan by lifting with the ends of the foil and transfer to a cutting board. With a sharp knife, cut into 30 squares. It is a good idea to wipe your knife between cuts with a damp cloth. These brownies can be stored in the refrigerator for several days or else frozen.
Makes about 30 1-inch (2.5 cm) squares.

Brownie Layer: 1/2 cup (113 grams) unsalted butter, cut into pieces
 4 ounces (114 grams) unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
 1 1/4 cups (250 grams) granulated white sugar
 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
 2 large eggs
 1/2 cup (65 grams) all purpose flour
 1/4 teaspoon salt

 Mint Layer: 2 tablespoons (28 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature
 1 cup (115 grams) confectioners (powdered or icing) sugar, sifted
 1 - 1 1/2 tablespoons heavy cream
 1/2 teaspoon pure peppermint extract or 1-2 tablespoons creme de menthe green food coloring (optional) 

Chocolate Glaze: 3 ounces (90 grams) semisweet chocolate, chopped
 1 tablespoon (14 grams) unsalted butter

And for an alternate version with actual Andies Candies, try this one I found on Glorious Treats.

A Recipe for Evil...

First, HAPPY WINTER SOLSTICE!

Second, WICKED CIRCLE will be released in 6 days!!! SQUEE!

Third, (for the charm...) Recently (read as: a few years ago) I traveled to a dangerous haven of malcontents (read as: my mom's house for the holiday get together). There, after many harrowing trials and tribulations (read as: conversations with family in close proximity to said family), I unearthed a recipe for something so wickedly, decadently rich I have obliterated the previous name, struck it out of time and space and have renamed it:

EVIL

Now I KNOW you'll read this and think, "So simple," or, "So innocent," or, "No way," but I SWEAR the words of the ingredients and instructions are deceptive. I am certain that somewhere in the process of this something straight out of the X-files happens. Time stops, a portal opens up while your world is frozen and demons appear with gum-drop fairies ensnared in some bizarre and tiny version of a torture rack and when the demons squeeze the poor little fey they weep and tiny little tears that fall into the mixing bowl dooming all who eat of the confection made to be slaves to the "just one more little piece" sweet tooth.

If you dare to make some for yourself all you have to do is this:

Set your oven to 400 degrees. (EVIL likes the heat.) Take out the 10x13 (or thereabouts) pan--NOT a cookie sheet. (Recommend sturdy pan, NOT foil.) This has to have at least short sides.

Grease the bottom and sides lightly. (Also ok to line pan with foil and spray the foil lightly with non-stick coating. Because, EVIL needs to be convenient to the way YOU like to roll.)

Line the pan with saltine crackers. Yes. Regular, ordinary /crackers/. (I said it was deceptive.)

Get out a small saucepan, melt 2 sticks of butter with 3/4 cup of brown sugar. Boil that mix for 3 minutes.

Spoon mixture(or carefully pour it) onto the crackers making sure to coat them all.

Bake for 5 minutes, remove carefully and scatter some almond slices (1/2 cup or more if you like)on top, then cover withchocolate chips (2cups; minis works best but regular chips are fine. Chocolate can be sinister in any size).

Wait a few minutes for the chips to melt, use a spatula to spread it around and let cool. (If you have space in the freezer, this cools it FAST.)

Cut 'em, break 'em...whatever, just eat 'em and discover that you can't leave 'em alone. That's the EVIL part.

Cherry Chocolate Chip Cookies

by KAK  

I'm all about tweaking traditional recipes. Sometimes it's intentional, sometimes it's accidental, and sometimes it's a result of staring into my parents' pantry of things that are just ... odd.  (Can of dehydrated egg whites. Why?) Such an adventure as pantry-exploration led to the following modifications to the traditional chocolate chip cookie. I'm expected to make these every time I visit the family.

The Wet:

2 sticks softened/room-temp unsalted butter (unless you like salt-lick baked goods, always use unsalted butter)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup Splenda Brown Sugar Blend (This adds a nice tang to the cookie. I know it sounds odd, but trust me. If the thought of artificial anything curls your lip, use 3/4 cup brown sugar -- light or dark, up to you.)
2 eggs
1 splash/tablespoon artificial vanilla flavoring or 1 splash/teaspoon real vanilla extract
1 splash/teaspoon rum flavoring or 1 splash/tablespoon vanilla, butter, nut flavoring

Throw butter and sugar in a bowl and mix. I use my stand mixer with the whisk attachment. Beat it low/medium. Add eggs. Beat. Add flavoring. Beat. Remove whisk attachment. Put the paddle attachment on your mixer & standby for adding dry ingredients.

The Dry:

2 1/4 cups whole wheat flour (Yep, whole wheat flour. No, these aren't biscuits. Trust me.)
1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda (the wheat flour needs a little extra help)
1 teaspoon salt

Put all the dry ingredients into a bowl, mix it with a spoon, spork, whatever. Do not skip this mix step, otherwise you end up with a clump of baking soda in one cookie and another cookie that is all salt. I've made the mistake for you. You're welcome.  Now, turn on the stand mixer (with the paddle), set it on low. Slowly add the mix of dry ingredients to the wet. Slowly so you don't blast flower all over the kitchen like the Swedish Chef (yurda, gurda!).

The Delish:

1 cup dark chocolate chips or rough-chopped chunks (best if frozen for an hour or so beforehand to prevent them from turning into syrup)
1 cup dried and pitted cherries (if you have the huge bing cherries, rough chop them first. Again, best if frozen pre-mixing to keep them from clinging to everything except the dough.)

Toss these into the mixing bowl (still with paddle attachment). Mix on low until "folded" into the dough. It's less than 10 secs if you're using an electric mixer, so don't wander away.

Logging (optional):

Bowl of Dough
Saran Wrap
 

Now, the part I despise about cookie baking is the endless "scoop by tablespoon onto cookie sheet." I wanted cookies, not an experience in being chained to the oven. Thus, I take the Saran Wrap and cut a sheet a little longer than the depth of fridge. *Messy Warning:* Stick your washed hands into the bowl of dough and form a tube of dough the diameter of the cookie size you want (bottom of a coffee mug size-ish or the "O" of the "okay" hand-signal). The length of the tube is determined by your cut of Saran Wrap, just make sure to leave an inch of wrap on either end so you don't get cookie-spooge all over your fridge. Slap the tube against one edge of the Saran Wrap, roll it up (refining the shape as you go), twist the ends of the Saran Wrap, and toss that sucker in the fridge (on a solid not slatted shelf!). Refrigerate for an hour or until the dough is hard (or keep in the ice-box for up to five days).

Once the dough is hard, unwrap and slice into 1/2 inch rounds. Place on cookie sheet, leaving space for some cookie expansion during baking. I suggest using parchment paper instead of cooking spray, since both cherries and chocolate like to linger on a naked cookie sheet.

Bake:

Preheat oven to 350. Bake 10 mins (for chewy) 12 mins (for cunchy). Keep in mind you've used wheat flour, so these cookies will come out a tish darker than AP flour cookies.

Happy Holidays from your Tuesday Word-Whore!

Ahhhhhh Chocolate, welcome home for the holidays.

It's Christmas, the most wonderful time of the year. One of the reasons that sentiment is true is this little chunk of wonderfulness.

The Terry's chocolate orange. Dark preferably, just because I ALWAYS prefer dark chocolate. But this little gem is available in milk chocolate and (shudder)white chocolate also.

They used to only be available here at Christmas which made them all the more special. (Now you can get them year-round.)

For the unfamiliar, these are globes of orange oil infused chocolate that are divided in wedges so that they look like pieces of an orange. Wrapped in an orange foil and about the size of your fist they are perfectly engineered to perform the best part of the Terrys orange when you are a kid.

See, if you just unwrap the foil then you are presented with what looks like a solid chunk of chocolate (which is just fine in most cases lol). But no! The magic of the Terry's orange is that you take it in your hand and you WHACK IT ON THE TABLE LIKE YOU ARE TRYING TO BREAK THE DAMN THING! Seriously, just pick it up and slam that little bastard on any hard, flat surface like it called you bad names.

Then peel back the foil.

VIOLA!

Now enjoy the best thing you ever had ever.
(Oh, and for me they are the BEST when they have been in the refrigerator for a few hours. Then they are refreshingly crisp.)

Y'all have a Very Merry Christmas. I hope you and yours are truly blessed this holiday season.

Triple-Chocolate Cake with Chocolate-Peppermint Filling

by Jeffe Kennedy

Today feels like a bit of a slam-dunk topic, but hey - I just work here. If the topic says "chocolate - recipes, faves and more," then that is what I shall deliver.

This is Triple-Chocolate Cake with Chocolate-Peppermint Filling, which I discovered in an actual Bon Appetit magazine ten years ago now. I say "actual" as opposed to the virtual version I just looked up online here.

Ever since, I've made this most every year for some Christmas event or another. My recipe is written out on a tattered and stained index card, but you can print a pretty version from the Bon Appetit site. Or here's my tweaked version below.

As with most cooking, the quality of the ingredients you choose is what makes the difference between fab and eh.

Ingredients

Filling

• 8 ounces milk chocolate, finely chopped (milk chocolate is, by my definition already sullied, so I think you can get away with a Ghirardelli-level chocolate here)
• 1/2 cup whipping cream
• 1 tablespoon light corn syrup (it's worth it to get the good kind)
• 1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract (be sure to get actual extract, not flavoring. ALL the difference in the world)

Cake

• 1 cup sifted all purpose flour (I never sift flour any more. "They" say we don't really have to. I don't know why all the recipes still say it.)
  
• 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (I think it's worth it to get a good kind here, too. The Mexican unsweeteend cocoas are particular strong and wonderful)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder (I use the pure kind, without aluminum)
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature (Don't you dare use margarine. I use organic and no, you can't substitute salted butter. If you do, don't add the 1/2 teaspoon salt, but the balance will still be a little off.)
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/3 cup (packed) dark brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract (again - it's SO worth it to use real vanilla extract, not flavoring)
• 3 large eggs (warm to room temperature)
• 1/2 cup buttermilk (also bring to room temperature)
  
• 1 1/2 cups miniature semisweet chocolate chips (If you can't find the mini cc's, which I can't a lot of the time, you just buy a candy bar and chop it up. It's worth it to get a good imported chocolate here.)

Chocolate Glaze

• 8 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped (I can't always find bittersweet either, so I've used dark chocolate candy bars with very high cocoa content - look for 80% or more and I think you'll be very pleased with the flavor.)
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into pieces
• 1 tablespoon light corn syrup
• 3/4 teaspoon peppermint extract

• Red-and-white-striped hard peppermint candies, chopped
• Fresh mint leaves

Preparation

Filling

• Place chocolate in medium bowl. Bring cream and corn syrup to simmer in small saucepan. Pour hot mixture over chocolate; add extract and let stand 1 minute. Whisk until mixture is smooth. Let filling stand at room temperature while cake is baking and cooling.

Cake

• Position rack in lowest third of oven and preheat to 350°F. Butter 9-inch-diameter cake pan with 2-inch-high sides. (I have one of those cake pans with the rounded bottom and I like to use that because it makes a pretty dome-shaped cake.) Line bottom with parchment paper. Butter parchment. Dust pan with flour. Whisk first 5 ingredients in medium bowl to blend. Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until light and fluffy. (This is really important - fluffier is better.) Gradually beat in both sugars, then vanilla. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in dry ingredients alternately with buttermilk in 2 additions each. Mix in chocolate chips.
• Transfer batter to prepared pan. Bake cake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 1 hour 5 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack 5 minutes. Turn out cake onto rack. Peel off parchment. Cool completely. (And they do mean COMPLETELY.)
  
• Using electric mixer, beat filling until fluffy and lightened in color, about 30 seconds. (You'll be amazed how it transforms.) Using serrated knife, cut cake horizontally in half. (This is why it has to be completely cool - or it can fall apart here.) Place 1 layer, cut side up, on rack set over baking sheet. Spread filling over. Top with second layer, cut side down. Chill filled cake 20 minutes. (Or overnight. Really you just want it to set up nicely.)
  

Prepare glaze

• Stir chocolate, butter, and corn syrup in heavy small saucepan over low heat (I use a double boiler - safer) until melted and smooth. Mix in extract. Cool glaze until just lukewarm but still pourable, stirring occasionally, about 20 minutes. (You have a wider window here than they make it sound, so don't obsess.)
  
• Pour 1/2 cup glaze over center of cake. Spread over top and sides of cake. Chill until glaze sets, about 15 minutes. Pour remaining glaze over center of cake, then spread quickly over top and sides. Chill until glaze sets, about 1 hour. Sprinkle candies around top edge of cake. Cover with cake dome; chill. Before eating, let stand at room temperature until softened, about 4 hours.
• Garnish with fresh mint leaves. (I never do this - I always forget, it seems.)

  

Here's my version!

Gasp! What Do You Mean My Mother Will Read That?

By Kerry Schafer 

 The topic for this week - how do you feel about your parents reading your sexy scenes - was purely theoretical when the week began. I read Jeffe's post on Sunday, comfortably contemplating the fact that since I have no books published, nobody is reading anything unless I hand it over. Since I had no intention of handing over drafts of sexy scenes to my mother, the problem was distant, classed with thoughts like "someday I'm going to die." Yep. Sooner or later. Not today. Nothing to be done about it, no need to worry. On Wednesday, things changed dramatically. I accepted representation by the fabulous Deidre Knight of the Knight Agency, and that changed my perspective dramatically. (You can read the story here, if you wish.) All at once, the idea of a published book is something within reach. I have an agent who believes in the book, and that we can get it published. This once theoretical idea of my mother reading my sex scenes is real and in my face like a hungry cat on Saturday morning. If the book is published, people will read it. Maybe (hopefully) lots of people. My mother. And all of her church friends. My own teenage children. My co-workers, potentially my clients, and maybe my old high school friends. Cue panic. Let me be clear that I am not prudish, just private. I love to read a book with good sex scenes, and writing sex is easy enough for me, but the idea that somebody, particularly my mother, is going to read it? Alarming. All I can say is, I'd better get over it. I'll warn my mom, and I honestly think she'll handle it fine. The kids? That one is a little worse. Kids don't like to know that their parents even think about sex, let alone read what they've written about it. Again, I'll warn them, and then they are on their own. Old enough to make their own decisions. I guess when it comes to writing sex scenes it's like writing anything else. Get it on the page, make sure it belongs there. What happens after that is between the words and the reader.

You're Writing What, Now?

First, allow me to confess that the holidays are eating my brain. It was as I was stepping into the shower so I could rush off to an appointment that some more aware portion of my mind shouted, "Hey, dummy! Blog post!" So here I am on a borrowed laptop, feeling like a moron with a hangover - that last part is from staying up until the wee hours of the morning reading through the last novel I wrote prior to being published. Wow, that book sucked. It is notable, however, as the first book wherein I'd managed to write a detailed sex scene.

No one but the critique group got to read that. It wasn't until Enemy Within and Enemy Games were published that I had to face the notion of anyone in my family reading the sex scenes I'd written. I'll be frank. I do my best not to think about it. My folks haven't said a word about the sex scenes. There have been a few comments about how often my heroines swear...but the sex? Not a word. Not a word about the bloody, horrific (to me) torture scene at the end of book one, either. At least not from my parents. I've had a few 'concerned about how you came up with all that' comments from extended family.

The two novels have been relatively easy because the sex scenes are pretty pedestrian as far as sex scenes go. Writing them is no big deal. Reading them aloud to the critique group? Damn, I hate that. I do it anyway. Or - I did. But this summer, I switched gears briefly. I wrote an erotica novella. Never had to read that one aloud, which is good. I do not know that I could have...That piece was critiqued via email. Now, Berkley is publishing it as an e-special in April of 2012. It'll be called Enemy Mine. It is set in the same universe as the novels.

I can be blase about that story because neither of my parents owns an e-reader. Yet. I'm not quite sure how I'll handle it if Mom or Dad decides to get one just so they can download and read the story. True. All my life, my folks have tried to be very open about sex. They wanted to make sure that their kids could talk to them about anything. They did a good job. "It's a natural part of life," they liked to say about love and sex. "It's just a body, everybody has one," they'd say about nudity. So I have some hope that if either of them reads the erotica, they'll just nod and go on. I mean, this IS fiction we're writing. I try not to get hung up on the notion that someone will think I actually do the things I write about - but I don't wander around shooting bad guys or flying spaceships. I'm comfortably certain my audience knows that. It naturally follows that I'm not necessarily into the BDSM elements that may have snuck into that erotica. Right? Right?

Nice Girls Don't Write Smut. Except When They Do.

by Allison Pang

Before I get into my post here today, I just want to give a shout of massive congratulations to our fellow Word Whore, Kerry Schafer! Kerry's accepted representation by the fabulous Deidre Knight (and I'll let Kerry tell you all about it on Saturday after she's had a little time to let it all sink in.) Congrats Kerry!)


*ahem*

And now back to our regularly scheduled post, aye?

I've actually been a tad envious at some of these earlier posts this week, namely when it comes to sharing writing.  Since my mother passed away 10 years ago, she's obviously never had a chance to read anything I've done (not since the early days of high school maybe?) And to be honest, her mindset was always far more practical than fanciful - writing was a hobby, not possible job potential.

I'd like to think she would have read my books, though.

My dad? I had to laugh about that because smut is not his thing. He's read A Brush of Darkness. Bought it in bulk and handed it out to his law interns. (When I found out about that, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Dad. You're a judge. And you're handing out books that I wrote. To your employees. With demon sex scenes in them.")

*sits back to wait for the sexual harassment lawsuits to start up.*

To be fair, I did warn him there were smutty scenes involved.

"Oh, like Catcher in the Rye?"

No, Dad. Not like Catcher in the Rye. But points for trying.

On a good note, I actually got hit up by a fair number of the interns who did, in fact, read it and liked it, so yay for that.

But as far as the smut scenes themselves go? We don't talk about them.  Maybe it's that Irish Catholic upbringing. Maybe he skips them completely. I don't ask. His overall opinion was that sex sells, so it's perfectly fine for me to have it in my books. (Although, I have to admit that when I mentioned I'd gotten dinged in the Huffington Post a few months ago (Worst Paranormal Sex Scenes) for using "turgid magnificence" (in a tongue-in-cheek way, mind - bleah for context), his only comment on the matter was "Well, you don't really want to be *good* at writing that sort of thing, do you?"

And I think that's sort of the line in the sand for him. Okay to write about it, okay to have it in the books...but don't smut it up TOO much, because...what? People will think I'm into it? I have no idea. Maybe it's a father/daughter thing.

Other family members? I heard from one aunt who loved it - but otherwise, I haven't heard a single peep out of any of them. Except for that through the grapevine type of thing. "Where does she come up with this sort of thing?" "She's got a good imagination, anyway." "It was...uh...interesting."

To be fair, a lot of that may have been less about the smut and more about the fact that it's Urban Fantasy. It's not their thing, and that's okay. It may also have been the whole first person thing. I think for a lot of people, that writing voice sounds an awful lot like *me* and that becomes a tad too personal for them to want to relate to. (Don't even get me started on the co-workers...)

"If you were actually sleeping with demons, I'd be concerned..." (Yeah, I got that one too.)

(A few certain very religious family members have basically been told not to even pick it up. The ones who think reading Harry Potter is cause for damnation? Yeah, I'd probably be disowned because of demon peen.)

Although the best thing? Getting hit up by a much older 3rd cousin who I've never met on Facebook. He read it and was totally scandalized by the language and smut...but enjoyed it anyway. (And was probably the ONLY person who got/commented on the King and I reference I threw in there.)

Is a puzzlement, indeed.

Mom, I wrote a smut scene in that chapter...

by Linda Robertson

FIRST: Interview with me and contest to win books at: Books and Barks.

Yes, there is smut in all my books except the first one.

Yes, my mom reads my books.


VICIOUS CIRCLE had a couple of kisses in it, but was very much sans smut. When HALLOWED CIRCLE came out … I asked my mom, do you want me to tear out the smutty pages, black marker them or leave them? She said to leave them.

Color me surprised.
  
When I gave her a copy of FATAL CIRCLE I warned her it too had smut. With ARCANE CIRCLE I didn't bother to give her the heads up. I figured she'd caught on. Though I have made the verbal effort to prepare her, I never promised her that she would find standard “missionary” style scenes.

In fact, there’s a standy-uppy sex scene in HALLOWED CIRCLE; oral followed by impromptu use of a kitchen countertop in FATAL CIRCLE; the insinuation of fellatio and a doggy style scene in ARCANE CIRCLE.

As for WICKED CIRCLE… (since it’ll be released in 13 days SQUEE!!!) here’s a brief excerpt from one of the smut scenes (slightly modified for this post):

He was climbing the steps inside the wærewolf den fast. She was keeping up, but was panting with the effort. It resonated erotically in his ears. “That was an impressive transformation,” she said. 


“Yeah.” 


“Yeah? That’s it?” 

He didn’t want to tell her how he was struggling with all that was new. He squeezed her hand then released her, hoping it wasn’t too abrupt. He was aware that he had to give her some kind of answer, but like a bad joke, her mom had actually given up her right arm in the process of unlocking his tattoos; he wouldn’t dare complain, but neither would he say anything that might make him sound ungrateful or imply that Eris’s sacrifice hadn’t garnered all they hoped for. “It felt easier. Much more fluid.” 


 Emerging onto the ninth floor, he guided her toward the small guest chamber at the rear of the hallway. 


"It was your first change since breaking the binding,” Persephone added. “Did it feel more powerful to you?”  


“Yeah.” He opened the door of the small studio apartment and hit the switch for the lights, twisting the knob to dim them. “I guess.” He opened the door wider so she could enter. 


“You guess? I was out in the hallway and I felt it.” 


“Really?” Instead of letting her acquaint herself with the space, as soon as he shut the door, he seized her and held her against him. “I’ve got something else I want you to feel.” He pressed his lips to hers roughly. “God, I missed you.” 


Seph kissed him back and buried her fingers in his hair. 


It felt like he hadn’t seen her in months, not mere days. His body thrummed with energy and ached for a release. His tongue pressed between her lips, wishing it was another part of his body. Her lip gloss tasted like sweet berries. He reached under the sweatshirt, pushing up tank tops to touch her skin. 


That enticing resonance played across his fingers again, dripping into his palm and rippling through his body.  


“Mmmm. I missed you too,” she said, arms winding around his neck. Effortlessly, she hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around him. 


He carried her toward the bed in the corner and she wriggled just before he heard the thud of her shoes dropping to the floor. He laid her on the mattress and, beyond the want or need of foreplay, unfastened her jeans. 

This scene was atypical because it’s using an actual bed. Off the top of my head, there’s only one other instance in previous books where Seph is actually having sex in a bed.

That might explain what my mom said to me.

You see, in prepping for this post, I called my mom and, to put a twist on things, asked her what it was like to be the parent reading the child’s smutty work. She, who has read many a
Harlequin romance, said, “Aw, I’ve read stuff like that before.”

*Note her use of “stuff” and the omission of words like “smut,” “sex,” “porn,” or “premarital fornication.” *

However, she admitted that, “…it is different when it’s your books.” She laughed nervously before adding, ”I figure it’s fiction, so I tell myself that you don’t actually do stuff like that…you just make all that stuff up.”

She’s so awesome! She cracks me up while making it not weird for me.




 

Some Things Daddies Don't Want to Know

by KAK 

A lot of kids, when they go off to college, get a lecture from mom and dad on responsibility, attaining goals, or how a telephone works for more than just texting. My father, a man more Victorian than Victoria, gave me the most valuable piece of advice.

Some things daddies don't want to know.

Sound, sage, advice. Advice I definitely apply to certain genres I've written. Those erotica novels burning up my hard drive? Handing one of those to my dad? Nay, nay. No, no. Nein, nein. The high fantasy with a protagonist who has a penchant for blood play? Yeah, sure. Why the difference? Because erotica is 93% sex. Dad can't "gloss over" that. The high fantasy? The tawdry bits are maybe 15%. We can sit around the holiday dinner table and discuss the other 85% of the book without embarrassing either one of us.

Mom's a whole different sort of story.

My mother is very frank about sex...often in a cover-your-ears and scream "TMI" sort of way. Mom wouldn't be remotely offended by a vanilla sex scene. She'd read it and move along. Thing is, I don't really write vanilla sex. So, while she'd read all about hunchbacking happening, there'd inevitably be the point and time at which she would close the book, set it on her bedside table, pick up the phone, and call me. Not to discuss the mechanics of whatever acrobatics went on, but to have a heart-to-heart about the psychological ramifications of what the characters are demonstrating and how that's being reflected in my real life.

There are some things daughters don't want to discuss.

My folks are incredibly supportive of my writing aspirations. They eagerly await the day they can buy the first 1000 copies of whatever I manage to get published. They are standing by ready to be my mobile marketing machine. Mom & Dad the Street Team. The day I can put a book in their hands, they will be off and running. That book will just happen to be a High Fantasy.

Erotica? There are some things I only want you, dear readers, to know.

So tell me, would you ever gift your parents with an erotica novel? Why or why not?

Oh! Eek! When your folks read your naughty bits.

FROM: James R. Tuck

Hello, hello, hello. It's me, the new kid on the block. Proud to be the first Man-Word Whore 'round these parts. I promise to try and do the wonderfully talented ladies here justice in their choice of including me.

So my first topic to post about is when your parents read the sex scenes you write.

Well, it hasn't happened yet since the book isn't out until Feb 7. 2012 (BLOOD AND BULLETS from Kensington. End shameless plug.) but it should generate a conversation at least. That is, if my mom makes it to the vampire brothel/strip joint much less to the actual naughty scene.

See, I am a Southern boy. I was born and bred in Georgia. I grew up going to church. (In fact, for a very short window of my life I was a Church of God youth pastor.) My mom still goes to the church that I went to most of my young life, from 13 until my early 20's. She is morally conservative. She was only ever married to my father and to my knowledge has never really even dated anyone but him, not even in the decade plus he was taken by the cancer. She is your typical, Southern, religious, totally awesome mom. And she is proud that her son wrote a book, but I am trying to think of a way to let her know that my book, well, it ain't for her.

I wrote it because I wanted a DARK, violent, thrill ride of a kick ass book. I had hit a streak of reading books in urban fantasy that were supposed to be dark and violent but wound up being really tame IMHO. I set out to push the edge of Urban Fantasy. To not treat it like a nice safe thing. And I think I succeeded, I mean I put some really crazy shit in my book.

So, I guess I'm not so much worried about the racy bits with my mom because I don't think she'll get past the bloody violence and the four-letter words that I used like it was my job. I mean, is a vampire handjob all that shocking after you blow a hole clean through someone's chest?

I still feel I should give my dear mother a heads up though, before she runs out to buy the book. Hmmmmm, maybe I should call her. (I know, when in doubt you should always call your mom and say hello.)

If you have any advice on how to break the news leave it in the comments!

Keep the faith until next time,

James R. Tuck

When Parents Read Your Sex Scenes

by Jeffe Kennedy

No, I'm not reading a sex scene to my folks, here. It's a poem I wrote for their wedding ceremony - my mom's third wedding, after being twice widowed. And yes, they totally asked me to write and read the poem for them.

I'm very blessed this way, in the support from my family. Not only has my mom always encouraged me, but so does Stepdad Dave.

So, do they read my very naughty books? (Sapphire and Petals & Thorns are both BDSM erotica and Feeding the Vampire is a very hot short. Speaking of which, Feeding the Vampire is up for Book of the Week here, if you feel like voting.)

Yes. Yes, they do.

I even dedicated Sapphire to them, because they were both so great about Petals and Thorns - talking it up to their friends, and never once acting like what I'd written was offensive in any way.

This makes my family unusual, I think.

My mom has always been very open about discussing sex or "making love," as she called it when I was growing up. She let me watch it in movies, because she always thought it was ridiculous to let kids see violence and not love. She told me that love-making is intense, powerful and full of joy, if you do it with the right person.

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

Enter Stepdad Dave, who is retired Air Force and far more conservative that us, in our frivolous party ways. But he's fit right in. My mom occasionally mentions that they bribe each other with offers of "unnatural sex." No, I have no idea what this entails.

There are some things even I don't want to know.

I think that's the key: openness without excessive detail. At least it works for us.

On a final note, this is an exciting week on Word Whores, as we are also opening up, expanding and adding our first MALE Word Whore!

Meet James R. Tuck.

He'll be our new Monday whore, so you'll be seeing a post from him tomorrow. We'll see if a man can be just as much of a Word Whore as we can.

Feel free to heckle.

It Only Takes a Spark

by Kerry Schafer

There was this song we used to sing around the campfire. Well, technically, we sang a lot of songs around the campfire. Including Kumbayah. Hush - it was lovely and magical and there were boys -

Anyway, this particular song, sung around the campfire and in other places as well, began with this line:

"It only takes a spark to get a fire going."

Now, I'll admit that these words do seem to hold true for forest fires and grease fires and a huge array of disasters natural and unnatural. Apparently one random spark can indeed set a whole forest on fire. But it's a different song in the case where you do actually want to start a fire. I don't know if you've ever wondered about this, but it's a conundrum that frequently occupies my mind.

Maybe this is because we own a wood stove, and we use said wood stove to supplement the electric heat in my house. So, in the chill of the pre-caffeinated pre-dawn, while I am strategically placing dry kindling in a stove optimally designed for the encouragement of fire, and watching one spark after another totally fail to get anything going at all, I think about things.

I think about the way we only burn candles when somebody is watching to make sure they don't somehow tip over and light the counter on fire. I think about the way we keep blankets away from the heat registers and towels away from the space heater in the bathroom. I think about how careful we are with fires built outside, lest they accidentally set dry grass or trees on fire. I think about fire stations and fire engines and firemen, and the huge conflagrations that nobody wanted and somebody has to try to stop.

And then I look again at the fire that has failed to burn, despite kindling and coaxing and blowing and muttering and liberal additions of newspaper, and I wonder about the ironies of life.

Some things are fated. That's the only answer I can come up with, but not the end of the matter at all. Because here's the thing - if I keep on trying, sooner or later I will succeed in lighting a fire in the stove, as long as I've got dry wood and matches and maybe a little bit of paper. I guess my meandering point is that life is like starting fires.

Sometimes, while we are busy working our asses off to accomplish something, that very thing just happens for somebody else. Like magic, it seems. Precious little effort on their part. The right timing of people and events and "poof." Fire. Meanwhile, we've got a little heap of shavings and a string and a stick. Maybe a match or two, if we're lucky. It's hard not to be discouraged in these circumstances. Jealous, even. It's tempting to give up and curl into a ball under the blankets and just be cold and miserable.

Of course, if you do curl up into a ball and lie there, it's very probable that somebody else's magical wonderful fire will turn into a fire storm and blaze right over top of you and burn you to a crisp.

It seems to me that it's best to keep an eye out for random fires heading in your direction, but keep most of your focus on your own little heap of fire and wood and kindling. Maybe refine your fire building skills. Invest in some fire starter. Make some shavings. And maybe even sing a silly song or two while you're at it. I'm not sure why, but it seems to be helpful.

Fire Inside

Word-Whore Jeffe mentioned Prometheus early this week - the poor guy who dared defy the Greek Gods and who brought fire to humans. Do you suppose he was really strung up as a sacrifice to an eagle simply because he wanted to teach humans how to scramble an egg? (Refresher - he was bound to a rock for all eternity. An eagle comes each day and tears out his liver which subsequently grows back overnight so he can undergo this torture again the following day. That's more than an annoyed God.) No. The issue is that we're not talking about simple fire - the fires with which we cook, or with which we heat our homes. Fire, as it's spoken of in this myth is something much bigger, much greater than a few seared pieces of rabbit or deer meat.

Fire in the metaphysical traditions equates to Will, to the power within each of us to embody Fire. When used consciously and carefully, each of us is capable of channeling Will (or Fire, if you prefer) to shed light on some part of ourselves or our lives. We can use that Fire within to burn away and release those things that no longer serve us. In this aspect Fire equals transformation, the burning away of the old and out dated. It's a controlled burn, clearing space for something new, and laying down a nourishing ash base from which new growth can arise. (There's some discussion in metaphysical circles that this is the original concept of Hellfire - not punishment per se - but transformation.)  The problem is that if you get carried away, if the Fire takes you, the focused laser turns into a raging inferno - think of some of the horrifying forest fires that have scarred the US recently. In this aspect, Fire becomes the Destroyer, like Kali or Sekhmet angered by Her people. You burn up everything in your path, including you.

Because Fire is equated with Will, which is the drive within each of us to destroy and to create, it is the element most closely associated with the Divine spark in each of us. THIS, I suspect, is what Prometheus actually stole from the Gods on Olympus. That's the Fire he delivered to humans - that tiny destructive/creative spark that drives us to achieve whatever it is we're each driven to achieve. That's what drove the Greek Gods to sentence Prometheus to an eternity of liver laceration. Not that I'm against the odd explosion or three. Or nicely seared meat or a cooked egg. I just don't think cooking our food made humans competitors to the Gods. But that Divine spark thing? Oh yeah.

(Image Source: http://www.nightingail.com/fractals/g1sekhmet.html

Fire Within Me

by Allison Pang

I had actually intended to write more about hearth-fires and the like, but this is one of my favorite pictures out there, both because it reminds me of one of my characters...and the whole violin fetish I have.

But the picture itself is rather indicative of the whole creation process. I know most of us have been in that place, where an idea or *need* to create something just threatens to consume us until we get it out. And then we type away and the pages just pop out like nothing.

But it seems like such a fine line really - I mean, looking at the picture there - she's playing so hard, her instrument is literally aflame.

Which is both fabulous and awful. On one hand, it's a lovely representation of what it feels like to be driven to create...but on the other hand? What happens when that violin is gone? (Hello, writer burn out?) I think many of us have been there too - sometimes it's probably better to pace yourself. Burning the midnight oil, burning the candle at both ends - so many metaphors warn us of the end result - but there's a difference between rushing to finish something and truly being inspired to do it.

Deadlines not withstanding. *ahem*

Fire

by Linda Robertson

Fire.

*pondering*

Fire. Fire. Fire.

*more pondering*

“Ready the starboard cannons! FIRE!”

Yeah.

My first thought, after actual flames is, unsurprisingly, pirate.

And then, in the same vein, my thoughts leap to things elvish.

Galadhrim, specifically.

And then I leap to the FIREWATER which I used to think was so delicious and now kind of can't even smell it without bad things happening...

Then I just get geeky for a minute and think of a cool word like ignivomous –which means "vomiting fire."

But the cool pic for that led to this which I HAD to share:

Can you say Fax Torris?

**extra brownie point to anyone who gets the reference....**

And I will end this visual extravaganza with my new favorite band, VOLBEAT, and their "FIRESONG"

…but they do not know That we bring firesongs To burn their tongues…