Welcome to BRB, everyone! I hope you had a great weekend. Mine was busy as usual, six hour drive to fetch my youngest from camp. Tiring to say the least. :( Anyway, to continue with my introduction to the authors of Yellow Silk Dreams, my guest today is another contributing member. She's also talented and a good friend. Welcome, Jacqueline!
What genre do your currently write? And, is there a genre you'd like to write, but haven't tried yet?
I don’t mind much, but I do have exceptions. I don’t do sad, so no weepy stories of incurable, wonderful people. I don’t like to be scared either, so no horror. And NO BLOODY VAMPIRES! At least, not the modern pasty-faced teen idols. I do like Terry Pratchett’s vampires, so there is some hope for me.
Apart from that, historical is much easier than sci-fi. I love romance, both the fairy tale and castles sort, and person with person romance. When it comes to personal, I can’t imagine romance without sex somewhere along the line, so erotic romance is a natural for me.
My full length books are, perhaps half sexy romance, but I have a spy/thriller, a modern adventure, an old fashioned pirate story and even a How to book.
Many authors use a nom de plume, and they may use one opposite to their own sex. Do you think an author's sex or sexual orientation should dictate what genre they write?
Books originate between an author’s ears, not between her (or his) legs. All fiction is a fantasy of some sort, and the only things that matter are how good a fantasy, and how well it is written.
Pen-names are another issue. They are mostly a marketing tool, in the same way that Marilyn Monroe sounds much more interesting than Norma Jeane Mortenson. Publishers pay a lot of attention to book covers and author’s names, because presentation sells.
Of course, when it comes to sexy romance, there may be other reasons for hiding your real name...
Some authors have issues with character development, writer's block, plot summary etc. What is the biggest challenge you face when writing? How do you overcome the problem?
Honestly my biggest problem is marketing. If you don’t market your work, then why write it? But if you do market it vigorously, you find yourself spending more and more productive time not writing.
Ideally, a friendly publisher would pay me lots of money, take over all my books and leave me free to write. Unfortunately I lack the essential item for that i.e. a doting uncle with a publishing company.
What has been the single most successful marketing tool you've used to date?
Traditional publishing is inaccessible for me, as it is for most modern authors. So, I now have a tiny publishing company, Q~Press Publishing. The editor in chief (me) is sensitive and intelligent, and begs for the privilege of releasing anything I write. Sometimes the publisher’s complimentary blurbs almost embarrass me.
What are you currently reading?
Oh, now I’m going to sound snooty, which is not me at all. For high school Latin, I was forced to study Julius Caesar’s Gallic Wars. Last night I loaded it onto my Kindle (in English), just for old time’s sake.
How do you measure success?
Sales. The greatest success an artist can hope for is to have people part with money to buy their work. OK, it’s not much money, and many more people would be welcome, but sales are the only measure for me.
Just for fun–
What is your favourite drink?
Apart from good coffee (the very Staff of Life), I tend to favour the drinks containing alcohol. Fruit juice is fine, but I can’t think of one that isn’t nicer with a little adulteration. It’s what makes humans human.
Are you a cat or dog person?
Ideally both, but caring for dogs is a problem if you are regularly away from home. We have two ginger cats, and lovely neighbours who feed them when we have to go to town for a day or two.
Love or lust?
You mean I have to give one up? What are you, the religious police or something?
No smartass! lol
If you could spend the day with any famous author, who would it be? And, why?
I suspect most great literary figures would be obsessive loners and uncomfortable with strangers. I would not want to be lectured at by Hemingway or Tolstoy. Anaїs Ninn might be a possibility - she had her head screwed on right. Or how about Erica Jong in her prime; that would be fun.
If you would accept a less prestigious author to spend your day with, drop me an email. I can guarantee we will have an exciting day here in Queensland, next to the Coral Sea.
If you could indulge free of any consequences, what would be your ultimate sexual fantasy?
The ultimate fantasy would be indulging freely, without consequences. There are so many things I would be open to trying, given the right ambiance and partner(s). I should have tried them at Uni, when I was young and irresponsible. Now I am married and living in a small village, I can only write about them. How frustrating!
Her Master's Voice
While her husband Tim works on the oilrigs of Borneo, Sherry is left alone in Singapore. She fills in her time by studying yoga with a guru who has very definite ideas about what makes a woman. She will have to learn to be sexy all over again, and her friend Ranji soon has her playing magic flutes all over town.
But what will Tim do when he finds out what she has been doing? Will he send her away, or train her to be the wife he wants?
Sherry and Ranji pay a debt...
Yhee was a small man seated in a big black chair behind his desk. At first sight he looked Chinese, but as Sherry looked closer his long nose and wavy hair made her uncertain. Mixed blood, perhaps. He watched them closely as they crossed the carpet and came to stand in front of his desk. He gestured them down into the armchairs facing each other in front of him. Sherry found herself sitting uncomfortably low, with Yhee’s desk above elbow level. She had to look up to talk to him.
“So,” he said in a sing-song voice, “Miss Ranji and Miss Sherry. Very good. Very pretty. Now, speak to Bombar first.” He picked up a phone and dialed.
“Mr. Bombar. Yes. The girls have arrived. Yes. Maybe, not bad in a cheap sort of way. Yes. I shall insist on it. Now I give you Ranji.” He thrust the phone at Ranji and Sherry listened to another half conversation.
“Yes, Papi. No, she’s dressed very well. I shall, Papi. Don’t worry, Papi, we shall be good. Yes, Papi. See you soon,” and she handed the phone back to Yhee who hung up.
He looked at them and chuckled. “Very beautiful. Now we shall have a very interesting time, no?” Sherry liked his smile and relaxed immediately. “Now, ladies, what are you going to do for me?”
Ranji smiled at him and said, “We are here to do anything you want, Mr. Yhee.”
“Very good. Very, very good. In that case, I would like you to dance for me. Together. Just stand up and dance.”
Sherry found herself holding Ranji and trying to find a rhythm in the Chinese music. “Mmmmmh, sexy Sherry,” whispered Ranji and reached around her with both arms to pull her closer. Over her shoulder, Sherry could see Yhee watching them closely. Ranji felt live and exciting in her arms, and her exotic perfume filled Sherry’s senses. They continued swaying and Yhee came out from behind his desk, to lean against it and sip his cognac. Sherry felt Ranji’s hand slip upwards, drawing her dress up, exposing her bottom. Then Ranji turned her as they swayed, turning her back towards Yhee. A shiver ran through her and she fought to remain calm as they slowly rotated.
She heard Yhee clapping as Ranji exposed her. He came nearer, still clapping. “Bravo, bravo. Let’s take her dress off, Ranji.” Sherry held her arms up as the two of them bunched her dress up and lifted it over her head. Yhee took it and threw it onto his desk. “Dance some more!” he ordered.
Resigned but excited, Sherry danced slowly. Ranji held her away now and turned to allow Yhee to look between them. She felt his eyes on her nudity. Ranji lifted one hand above her head and spun her round, showing off everything she had to Yhee. She blushed and her ears burnt.
Perhaps Yhee sensed her embarrassment, or perhaps he had seen enough dancing. “Come over to the conference table,” he commanded. He took Sherry’s hand and led her over to the other side of the room. He pulled back one chair as a step and said, “Sit on the table.”
Sherry climbed up and sat down with her legs hanging down. “Move into the middle of the table,” he said, “and open your legs. So we can see you.”
Sherry shunted backwards and brought her feet up. She felt uncomfortable sitting on the flat surface wearing high heels. She let her legs fall open as he wanted. Yhee and Ranji stared at her centre.
Yhee pushed Ranji to a chair and sat down beside her. They looked at Sherry like an exceptionally succulent pig served at a banquet.
“Now, play with it,” said Yhee. “I want to see you make yourself come.”
Jacqueline lives in Far North Queensland, on the shore of the Coral Sea. She keeps herself busy with her cats and garden, and by writing books - some of which are far too naughty for her own good. You can find out more about Jacqueline and her books at www.jacquelinegeorgewriter.com