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Interview! September 28, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Boosting the signal, conventions, Counsel of the Wicked, Eek!, heeheeheehee, interview, public displays of geekery, wow.
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Late Saturday afternoon, I was interviewed by the lovely people from Hangin’ with Authors. The interview just went live on their YouTube page.

If I sound like a dork, don’t tell me, okay? Thanks.

Wow… September 28, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Blessed, Counsel of the Wicked, Grateful writer is grateful, kvelling, mind blown.
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What wow? Umm… this wow.

Amazon Best Sellers  Best LGBT Fantasy Counsel of the Wicked  Rebel Mage Book 1   Elizabeth Schechter   Amazon.com

If you can’t see it, try this one.Counsel of the Wicked  Rebel Mage Book 1   Elizabeth Schechter   Amazon.com

Broke the top 100 for LGBT ebooks for Fantasy.

I am… awed. That’s what I am. Wow.

Thank you.

 

Today at SFSE! September 26, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Blessed, mind blown, SFSE, wow, writer.
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Today I have spoken to a packed room on the ins and outs of writing sex, sat in an empty room that was supposed to be a reading/signing, gave an intimate talk on fanfiction, and been interviewed for YouTube.

I gave a copy of House of Sable Locks to Jacqueline Carey, an author who I admire greatly, and told her it was all her fault (for my career, and for the career of Moira Katson, who also started out writing on The Night Court.)

Now I’m sitting at my table, decompressing and watching the tables of two friends who are on a panel. I’m thinking about going and getting some tea, and I just said hi to Orson Scott Card and his wife as they went past my table.

Tomorrow, I have a panel on writing cross-genre, and we’ll see what else happens. But I am truly having an awesome convention!

Convention Schedule! September 21, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in a-writers-life-is-never-dull, appearances, SFSE, writer, writing, writing-mom.
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I’ve gotten my schedule for Speculative Fiction: Southeast 2015 (this weekend! Come see me and a bunch of other cool people!)

When I’m not on a panel, I’ll be at my table on Author Alley.  Friday, I’ll be on Author Alley from 4PM until my first panel at 6PM.  Saturday, Author Alley opens at 10AM for VIPs, and 11AM for everyone else. I’ll be there on and off until 4:30. Sunday, Author Alley opens the same times as Saturday, and I’ll be there most of the day.

Panels:

Friday, 6:00 to 7:00 PM: Once Upon a Time.
With plot, character, and setting prompts from the audience, these panelists collaborate in the best camp game ever: turn-taking storytelling!

Friday, 7:00 PM (Tentative) Guest Reader with Phantasmagoria
Since Friday will be a regular schedule for me until we leave for the convention, this will largely depend on if there is enough coffee in the world.

***

Saturday, 12:15 to 1:15 PM: I Want to Verb Your Noun
With the increased popularity of erotic romance and erotica, more and more authors are trying their hand at added sex to their stories . In this panel, we’ll discuss the differences between romance, erotic romance, erotica and pornography, and talk about how to incorporate sexual scenarios into a story.

Saturday, 1:30 to 2:20 PM: Reading/Signing
What I read will depend highly on what the ages of the attendees are — I’ll have selections from Counsel of the Wicked and The Rape of Persephone.

Saturday, 4:30 to 5:30 PM: Fifty Shades of Fanfiction
As long as there has been storytelling, there’s been fanfiction. From the archives of Fanfiction.net to the pages of Archive of Our Own, from the countless sequels to Pride and Prejudice to the estate-authorized adventures of Sherlock Holmes, fanfiction has been written for anything that has a fanbase. Even Virgil’s Aeneid is nothing more than one man looking at the Iliad and the Odyssey and asking, “Hey, what happened next?”
In this lecture we’ll discuss ins and outs of creating fanfiction. We’ll touch on the ethics of fanfic, the essential legalities, and the dreaded Rule 34.

Saturday, 5:30 to 6:30 PM: Signing Party

Saturday, 8:00 PM to 10:00PM: VIP Party

***

Sunday, 12:45 t0 1:45 PM: Neither Fish Nor Fowl:Writing Across Genres 
Hey, you’ve got your romance in my science-fiction! No, you’ve got your science-fiction in my romance! What is a writer to do when the hard science-fiction story demands a love scene? Or the romance suddenly involves werewolves, elves, vampires, aliens or Bigfoot?
You combine genres, that’s what. In this panel, we’ll discuss the hallmarks of the romance genre, and see how it fits into, and plays well with, science-fiction and fantasy.

Cover reveal: Like a Circlet Editor! September 21, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in excerpt, giveaway, new books, promotions, Release date, upcoming books, upcoming work.
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I haven’t been doing anthologies much. I’ve been just too busy with the novel deadlines. But sometimes, there are projects that I have to do. This was one of them.

I got an email out of the blue from Circlet that basically said “Hi! We’re doing this anthology, and we need one more story. Think you could do something for us? We’d really love to have something from you.”

Really, how could I say no?

The anthology is Like a Circlet Editor, and features stories that give a look at the behind the scenes lives of Circlet Editors. Well, sort of.  We kind of zhooshed it up a bit.  My story in the anthology is entitled Raise the Dead, and I promise you, it bears no resemblance to anyone in the Circlet offices, living or dead.

I think. I’ve never actually been to the Circlet offices. I keep missing out on Porn Camp (aka, the annual Circlet retreat).

The anthology won’t be out until October 8th, but you can see it here, and pre-order it at Smashwords. Or, if you’re the lucky winner of the Rafflecopter drawing, you can win a copy of Like a Circlet Editor and TWENTY-FIVE other Circlet ebooks of your choice!

So, here’s a taste of what you could be winning. Have a look at the cover, and a snippet from Raise the Dead.

like_a_circlet_editor_cover_1400

Raise the Dead

by Elizabeth Schechter

I hate to contradict one of the great American geniuses, but three moves do not equal one fire. Sorry, Mister Franklin, but you don’t have to unpack after a fire. Granted, this was only one-third of a fire, but still… I’d been in my new place for over a month, unpacked I don’t know how many boxes, and it still looked like the place had been decorated by someone with a weird fetish for kraft paper and cardboard. I flopped back onto the couch, one of the only unoccupied seats in the living room and looked around at the ziggurats of unlabeled boxes.

“Fuck it,” I growled. “I’m done.” I combed my fingers through my hair, wincing as I got caught in the knots, and promised myself once again that I’d head to the barber once I got paid.

Paid. Yeah, if I wanted to go the barber, or go grocery shopping, or pay the next month’s rent on Foster’s Home for  Orphaned Cardboard, then maybe I should actually start doing the work I was being paid to do. I looked at the other side of the couch and the pile of printouts sitting there, fighting the urge to stick my tongue out at them. Why had I ever thought editing erotica would be glamorous or sexy? I’d been working as a freelance editor for years, and when the job came up, I jumped at it. After all, I’ve been reading, and occasionally jerking off, to Circlet books since college, and everything I’d ever read from them had been excellent. Funny how I never even considered what their slush pile would look like. There’s something called Sturgeon’s Revelation, named after the science-fiction author who came up with it. He said, “Ninety percent of everything is crap.” Nowhere is that more evident than in smut writing.

As a newly minted Circlet editor, it was my job to wade through that ninety percent of crap looking for the diamonds. Nice work if you can get it. And if you can keep from laughing long enough.  I’d been doing this for less than a month, and I’d already seen grammar that would make your eyes bleed, and sex written so badly it would make the Whore of Babylon seriously consider taking up celibacy. Or at the very least, knitting. One entire story had been written solely in text-speak. That may be the way of the future, but it’s not the future of any anthology I’m ever going to put my name on as editor.

I looked at the pile of printouts again, and considered getting up and getting a drink first. No. I’d forgotten my trail of breadcrumbs, and I just might get lost in the great cardboard jungle between the couch and the kitchen. So I grabbed the pile and shuffled it, pulling a manuscript out at random. I skimmed the first page. Let’s see… Contact information, and a name I didn’t know. Word count within the specified range for stories for this anthology. Good. Times New Roman, and those sure looked like one inch margins. Double spaced and first line of the paragraph indented. A very good sign; this one, at least, could read the submission guidelines.

“All right. You pass the first test,” I said. I picked up a green pen—I deplore red pen—and started reading aloud. Since I’d started working as a freelance editor, I found I do my best work when I read my editing work out loud—I can hear the flow better, and it forces me to read every word instead of skimming. It also annoyed the ever living fuck out of my ex. Which was just one of the many reasons he was now my ex. And why everything I owned was interred in cardboard coffins.

I shook my head as I lost my train of thought. No thinking about Eric. What point was there to that? He was an idiot, and I was better off without him. I flipped back to the first page of the manuscript and started reading aloud once more. Whoever this was, they had a nice flow to their writing. A couple of typos that SpellCheck missed, but nothing dire. The setting was vaguely Victorian, which either meant gaslight fantasy or steampunk. No way to tell which yet. On page three, I hit the sex:

He stripped slowly, the way she had taught him, revealing his long, lean body and his already attentive cock, folding his clothes away into the small chest that she kept for just that purpose. The chest locked as he shut the lid —the clothing would not be returned until Lucretia was done with him. 

“Move that into the middle of the room,” Lucretia said, pointing to a straightbacked chair. Once Jack had done that, she ordered him to sit, then turned and opened another chest, drawing from it a coil of silken cord. With the ease of long practice, she bound Jack firmly to the chair, then dropped her wrapper to the floor and straddled his lap, easing herself down over his cock. He caught his breath, closing his eyes as she settled against him. When he didn’t open them again immediately, she slapped him.

“Eyes open. Report.” 

I giggled. This Jack was obviously some kind of spy for Lady Lucretia. And she was an evil top, too. Making him report while she was riding him? I wondered what would happen if he messed up his report. That might be fun. I kept on reading aloud as he reported on the doings of several people who I hoped would show up later. Lucretia played with him a little, and he came. A little fast, but he was… what, maybe nineteen? I flipped back a page, but the only description was young. When I was that young, I’d have gone off like a Roman candle, too. Especially if someone had me tied up and was playing with me the way Lucretia had Jack. I shifted in my seat, adjusting my jeans and my erection. Mental note— until I had a steady lay again, work in sweatpants. Or naked. Naked would be good. I had lube… in a box, somewhere. I shifted again and started reading once more, grinning as Lucretia threatened Jack with some vague yet dire harm because he’d come first. I didn’t get any further because I was interrupted by moaning.

I most definitely wasn’t the one moaning.

I looked around, startled. The realtor said there weren’t any neighbors… which totally did not explain the guy sitting on the other end of the couch, his hand down his pants. He moaned again, and I wondered how the hell he’d gotten in, and how he’d gotten onto the couch without me seeing or hearing him. Then I realized that I could clearly see the pattern on the couch through his crotch, and that I had bigger problems. I yelped, and papers flew everywhere.

He vanished.

***

You keep using that word… September 15, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Uncategorized.
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inigo

The word, in this case, is “professional.”

Occasionally, calls for submission show up on Fetlife. Today, I came across this gem (names removed to protect the ridiculous. Emphasis mine):

I am the CEO and owner/founder of {redacted}; the most prolific creative design studio working exclusively in Adult Entertainment. Our studio is responsible for the creation of a vast chunk of the European pornographic film box art and advertising. We work with the biggest producers and performers in the business.

We are looking for TALENTED writers for our website {redacted}

Blogs, articles, satire, reviews, stories… I have personally dedicated thousands of hours to my business unpaid to give myself an artistic launchpad. Anyone who inquires as to how much money per article can go and fuck themselves. What we are offering is high-end graphics, branding and marketing to ALL of our writers and the exposure of the whole Adult Industry.

I am looking for a few outstanding individuals… that is why I am looking on Fetlife. Many of you will pass on this opportunity because it’s human nature. Others of you will scoff… that too is human nature. The bright, opportunistic individuals that I’m looking for already started replying… even before they began to read this paragraph.

My response to this person was… well, somewhat less than professional:

Anyone who expects talented writers to work for the exposure can go fuck themselves. We have to pay bills and eat, too.

The resulting screed has been interesting.  Did you know that if you expect to be paid, then you’re not a creative professional?

Funny, I always thought exactly the opposite.

Remember, children. Don’t work just for exposure. People die from exposure.

Have a taste. September 11, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Uncategorized.
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Last night was the release party for Counsel of the Wicked. The chat was a lot of fun, and I had a few excerpts that I shared there. And that I’ll share here, too.

Let’s start with the blurb:

Matthias has spent his whole life on the edge of a very small world. The bastard child of a fallen woman, he’s known nothing but judgment and hatred from the harsh, religious people of his enclave—except for Balthazar. The son and heir of the High Elder, Balthazar shows Matthias kindness, love… and desire. But when the High Elder discovers what his son has been doing, Matthias is arrested and sent to an isolated prison known as the School. There, and in the wastelands beyond, Matthias learns the secrets behind the hypocrisies of the Council of Elders, and his true heritage, true power, and true love.

Now, the excerpt.  A bit of set-dressing first. Matthias, imprisoned at the School, has been chained up and  put into solitary confinement because spoilers. Solomon is another “student” at the School, and has been acting as Matthias’ mentor.

So here, have a little taste of Counsel of the Wicked:

***

“I came prepared, just in case you said yes.” He poured some of the contents of the bottle over his now-erect cock, then set it aside and wrapped his hand around himself. He shuddered and sighed, and his shoulder started to shift under Matthias’ cheek in time with his other hand. “Know what I’m thinking?”

“No. What?”

Solomon chuckled. “I’m imagining you, touching me like this. Your hand instead of mine. Touching me.” His breath caught, and he moaned. “I wish you could touch me.”

Matthias bit his lip. Touch him? With a start, Matthias realized that the question he was asking himself wasn’t a question at all. He cared for Solomon, and this was something he could do to make him happy. He turned, stretching to kiss Solomon’s cheek. “I would, if I could,” he said quietly.

“You would?” Solomon asked. He turned his head, his nose nearly touching Matthias’. “Even though… I mean, would you want…?”

“Maybe?” Matthias answered. “I don’t know. But yes. I would. Because it’s you.” He kissed Solomon again, a fleeting touch on the lips, and found himself pressed tight to Solomon’s side, being kissed soundly in return.

“You… you tell me to stop, you hear?” Solomon gasped as he broke the kiss. “You… you don’t want me to kiss you, you tell me to stop!”

“I understand,” Matthias answered. “And I won’t.” He leaned closer for another kiss, feeling Solomon’s breathing quicken, feeling moans against his mouth. Feeling the bed shaking as Solomon redoubled his efforts. Then Solomon’s breath caught, his body shook for a long moment. Then his arm around Matthias loosened.

“That… you’re amazing,” Solomon said around great panting breaths. “You… you’d really do that? For me?”

New today! Counsel of the Wicked! September 8, 2015

Posted by Elizabeth Schechter in Uncategorized.
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The problem with a three day weekend is that I lose track of when I am. So I woke up this  morning thinking it was Monday.

It isn’t. It’s Tuesday. Tuesday the 8th.

Book release day!!!!

Counsel of the Wicked went live in all the usual places this morning, as both an ebook and a paperback.

CounselWicked_CvrPDF

Still giddy over that cover. Still in awe of this book!

Thursday night (the tenth, aka, the day after tomorrow) is the online book release party. Join me from 8PM to 10PM EST on the ForbiddenFiction website to chat about the book, about writing, about anything at all that strikes your fancy.