BTS is coming

In April, my oldest daughter asked me to take her to a concert in Chicago at the end of June. She had to spell it for me. Wanna One. I’m sure I gave her a weird look. Seriously.tired-377438_1280

In May, I had never heard of a BTS, and the girls were still hoping for Chicago in June.

In June, I realized this music stuff had something to do with my oldest daughter’s new Korean fascination. Certainly it had influened her recent hair color love. She’s tried the turquoise and is currently flying the red flag. She looks freaking adorable. I’m not even going to start on what it’s done to clothing preferences.

About this time, I also realized our move would make the June trip to Chicago impossible.

In July, I looked up from my boxes to watch my two daughters practicing choreography while watching YouTube on the TV. They moved in pretty amazing synchronicity, using dance moves I’d never seen. They told me it was K-POP and they loved it. They were sorry to miss Wanna One but understanding.

I said, “Maybe that means there’s something better coming.”

Both girls looked at me and yelled “BTS! BTS IS COMING”

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I didn’t know what a BTS was.  Don’t worry, they were going to fix that.

In August, they started showing me videos and playing K-POP songs all day at home, every time we got in my car, and quizzing me on the names of the members of the group. By the middle of August, a few BTS songs had wandered onto my own playlist. By the time work started up again, Airplane Part 2 was my alarm clock song. It still is. My daughters tell me I now have to learn the chant all the girls say at the concerts….lmao. No.

Maybe.

When I took a bit of time to listen, read the lyrics, watch the incredible dancing-it didn’t take long to hook me. I mean each one is more beautiful than the last! Their version of rap and the lyrics to their songs are nothing like what we have here in the US. I can’t tell you how happy that makes the mom in me. I know there are issues in the K-POP world, just like anywhere, but I love watching my girls dance and sing in Korean. Give me that any day of my life over Kei$ha and Pitbull telling my girls –

I have ’em like Miley Cyrus, clothes off
Twerking in their bras and thongs, timber
Face down, booty up, timber
That’s the way we like the what, timber
I’m slicker than an oil spill
She say she won’t, but I bet she will, timber

This was younger daughter’s favorite song before BTS.

It’s September, I can name each of them on sight, almost on sound of voice. Today I contacted my brother in Chicago to see if we could stay with him the first week of October. I’m gulping a bit at the price of tickets but after doing a little research online, I’m going to wait a bit before buying. I don’t know much about buying concert tickets but it’s pretty fascinating what people do to make money off them.

This may sound silly coming from a woman my age, but I find myself looking forward to this concert with almost as much excitement as the girls. Similar excitement, a few less hormones.  It will be my very first concert as well. My mom thought they were too dangerous a place for girls in the eighties. In a way, she’s the one who started this whole thing. When my oldest asked if I would take her I told her, “My mother would NEVER have done that.”

“Why? What did she have against fun?”

I just laughed. My mom didn’t have fun. Her idea of fun was picking raspberries at 5 AM every other summer morning, all summer.

Thanks for the lesson, Mom. I won’t make the same mistake.

 

Just an added bit of fun –

Remember when we had a favorite member of a band? John in Duran Duran or some such? Now they call it their bias. My girls each have a bias in BTS. It’s silly but I’ve actually found a favorite of my own. I know, it’s like being a kid again for a minute and pretty silly. However, the first person to guess my bias will receive a copy of my first book, Solitude. I’ve only recently made it available in print. I haven’t even got my copies yet, but one of them is reserved for one of you!

I could give you hints but it wouldn’t help you at all!😂 I will tell you daughter 1 adores V and daughter 2 adores JungKooK. I’m certainly not going to overlap bias with them! I have some err, no, I don’t have any. I do prefer one of the others though.

Who is Carly’s bias?

 

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I’m resisting making a lis

Favorite BTS Songs

Blood, Sweat and Tears

Fake Love

Dope

Fire

Anpanman

 

Seriously-someone come stop me!

 

 

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How Does this Work?

I really want to know.

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Photo by Studio 7042 on Pexels.com

How does this universe see me? How does the energy everything is made from relate to itself? How are some people so sure they know the Secret yet others are equally sure that everything opens to you if you only have faith? Is my success already made and just waiting out there for me to reach it? How do I look up and feel anything but insignificant?

This past week has had it’s ups and downs. I’ve found myself thinking a lot about what is available to me – out there. Saturday afternoon as I drove back home after a morning full of errands, I found myself wandering around the streets of my neighborhood. I was hoping to spot a flash of gray and cream fur trotting through the grassy yards. I had to stop the car as tears filled my eyes and I wondered for the hundredth time if the universe knew where Luna was because I sure didn’t. My little Looney-Bird has a collar with a big metal heart inscribed with her name and my phone number and address. She’d been gone six days. Six long hot days, and through more than one violent thunderstorm. We’d gotten almost three inches of rain Thursday night. Every day I’d come home from school hoping to see her peeking out at me from under the porch. Meowing her displeasure at my absence and wanting to tell me all her escapades.

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Even more so this particular week, as I had to have her little sister Jenni put to sleep on Thursday afternoon. Here I was sitting in my car channeling the vet’s office. Completely caught off guard by how much it hurt. I fumbled out an explanation to the very kind Vet and her assistant.

“I grew up on a farm, for heaven’s sake,” I said. “When any of our pets got hurt or sick dad would take them behind the garage and shoot them.”

They both nodded. One of them saying she grew up the same way, but it never got easier.

I nodded.

They left the room to make the neccassary preparations and I held my little cat and thought about my dad. The dad who didn’t know about me. The dad who couldn’t have taken a cat behind the garage and shot it, not to save his own life. The dad who loved cats his entire life. The dad who raised four children who love cats to this day. I thought about him, wondered if he might take care of little Jen for me. Thought about what I’d tell him, that she’s a nervous little thing, but funny and playful when she’s happy. That she loves Salmon treats and cuddling. I wondered about how this universe works.

When the ladies came back in, I wrapped my little cat in my son’s old shirt. The one we put in her little kennel to help her feel more secure; she loved him so much she crawled into his hoodie pocket within the first few moments they met. She looked at me with completely innocent little green eyes and I petted her while they shaved her leg and gave her an injection. She didn’t struggle or seem perturbed at all. It was rudely, thankfully quick. I had them cremate her, asked them to keep her wrapped in his shirt.

 

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Her favorite shirt on her favorite human.

 

“She loved this old shirt,” I said, for the fourth time.

They offered to give me more time but I had to pick up the girls from their first day of school. So I just tucked the edges around her, thanked them again for their kindness and let them lead me out the back door with my empty carrier.

That empty pink carrier that’s sitting in the back of this car as I give up my search and drive home with a weary heart. The girls come out and haul groceries in. I clean out the fridge and put food away. Then it’s off and running again, kids to drop off, a last minute movie I go see because I want to sit in the dark and eat a WHOLE bucket of buttered popcorn and drink a LARGE Coke Zero and not want to hear about it from anyone.

My youngest wonders what we’re going to do with our cat tree now we don’t have any cats. I buy her an Icee and she stops talking. I wonder if the universe might tell Luna that I’m looking for her. Maybe my energy could yell at her energy in some cosmic Marco Polo?

I got up this morning and while I waited for my coffee I looked at the cat stuff. I’ll deal with it Friday, I decide. I’ve given myself Friday’s off this school year, hoping to better service my own soul and my writing. I’m alerted to a sound on the front porch. I think about all the times this week I’ve opened the door hoping to see my girl. I decide it won’t hurt if the neighbors get a peek at my purple mu mu. I step out onto the damp wood of the porch and call her. Look around. Wait. It’s her MO. Make the woman wait at least a minute. I call her again. Wait. My coffee chimes it’s ready. I turn back to the door. Pushing it open I almost miss the little jingle of a bright pink heart. There is no missing the adamant MEOW and the fluff of a tail around my ankles.

The poor girl got more love than she bargained for, and grounded for a week. Maybe she’ll forgive when I explain about Jenni.

 

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Jenni’s idea of Heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

Too Hot!

A lovely little advertisement made for one of my books. LOVE IT!

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Zoe Flanders has had a hell of a year – from a philandering husband, the death of her mother and the quick remarriage of her father – heaven knows she needs a break. So when her best friend suggests she visit an online site specializing in alternative lifestyles, Zoe figures she’s got nothing to lose, not when she’s just looking. But her search for a Dominant takes a slight turn to the unexpected when she hits it off with a man wanting to be, of all things, her submissive instead.

A few wonderful comments from readers.

BadAss Lioness-Five Stars

I was curious to read about a female sub who goes online for a Dom and gets a request to be a Domme/Mistress instead. I was fascinated from the beginning, and it kept getting better. Their exchanges online were so good. I really liked that they got tested and exchanged the results before having sex!!! Safe sex is sexy. And then how they met was satisfying and fun as well. I was expecting that he might be less than he claimed that he was. He was all that and more.

This was short, sexy, and solid bdsm. I want more. I’m glad that I found this mature romance with a woman in her 30s and her sub in his 20s. While the terms Mommy and little boy were mentioned during play, it didn’t take anything away or add for me.

I’m glad to have found this sexy bdsm romance. I’d love if it were longer or there is a sequel novella.

Liz – Five Stars

I liked the build up between the MC and her love interest. The budding relationship between the two was believable, and the stories she wrote for him could have been written as scenarios that happen between them. Overall, a nice debut.

R.A. Wood – Five Stars

I’ve been ready Carly for some time now. She’s wonderful. Make sure you are
sitting down to read.

Cate T – Five Stars

Welcome to the fray Ms Quinn, always room for one more on the Amazon bus;)

 

I’m always looking for more cheerleaders!

Maybe you’re not as set in your ways as you think you are😉!

My Perfect Mistress on Amazon

Reminiscing

I took some time this morning to look through some of my old writing notebooks.

img_1873 I wish I hadn’t.

It wasn’t quite as sweet and mellow as the Little River Band song.  Interspersed in my writing are little journal excerpts. I came across one such from February of 2006. I was living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania at the time. I was extremely active in my church. Hoping for better days coming, I had just been released from an incredibly demanding calling teaching 13-17-year-old girls. This included one-hour lessons every Sunday, ninety-minute activities every Wednesday night, a week-long ‘girls camp’ in the summer along with the various fundraising car washes, bake sales and babysitting nights included. I had worked with wonderful women but I was so relieved to be done. I do not like teenage girls at all.

(Well, I didn’t then but, NOW, these two are perfect!)

Back to my journal. As I read over the rest of the entry from February 19, 2006, I felt my generally cheerful mood evaporate. It has taken me several hours to really pinpoint what is going on. In 2006 my bishop (leader of the congregation) called me into his office to tell me (NOTE- I’m going to quote from my journal because of my currently evolving belief system)

(the Bishop) said he has felt strongly that he needed to tell me that the Lord is pleased with my efforts and with how high I set the bar, but that it is okay to take care of yourself….and not to run faster than you are able.

One might wonder why that would ruin my day? I loved hearing it! I was finally doing something right!

I didn’t take the advice.

A month later I was pregnant, had a calling in the demanding women’s program and continued to pile on the responsibilities. Oh, if I could have one short conversation with myself that month!

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I loved living in Pittsburgh, but I was not good to myself there. Many wonderful things happened while I was there but I barely made it out of there in one piece. Amazingly it would take five more years for me to finally crash and burn. Seven years after that and I feel like I’m just barely coming out of the fog.

I admit I’m disappointed by the number of years it has taken me to learn a simple lesson.

When I’m really disappointed and low, there are only two things that can bring me out of my funk with alacrity; my Itunes playlist played loud enough to annoy the neighbors and Thorin Oakenshield. Yeah, he knows something about disappointment. When I finally fell apart, he helped me make sense of it.

How?

He let me cut my baby writing teeth on him. My first writing that was read by other people.  I didn’t like his story any better than mine, so I lent a hand.

Iron and Oak

Iron and Oak

Smoking hot cover made by our own Liz Durano.

 

 

 

Writing Sex-The Second Draft

Last week I brainstormed the beginning of a new sex scene for my new, as of yet untitled, book. Last night my story caught up to the scene. It will fall in Chapter 2, for anyone keeping count. In this post I roughed out the beginning of the sex scene. Gave a little peek into my thought process, and probably shocked a couple of people with my wandering mind.

Last night I took what I had written, directly off the post, and pasted it into my story. Then I went over it again, so it fit seamlessly into what I’ve written so far. Mike has already showed up in the story and taken on some characteristics and history. I thought you might like watching this part evolve. Because this blog isn’t an M or Mature rated blog, I won’t post the scene in its entirety but I will periodically post the draft as I complete or improve it.

So here is the original draft, in blue.

Charley watched Mike hobble his horse. She’d staked out her usual spot in the river. Scalding water bubbled a few feet away from her its steaming water warming the rocks in the cold river. She leaned her cheek on her knees, her long hair tickling her calves in the current. He straightened, a little stiffly, and glanced over, pulling off his grey North Face beanie. He was 6’5″, heavy shoulders sprinkled liberally with freckles. Long muscled arms, long, long legs, he managed a crew for Nick, spent his days keeping the town running. A jack of all trades, he could fix anything. He kept his crew hopping keeping water pipes, electrical wiring, refrigeration and sewer up and running. At home, he was quiet, loved his vegetable garden and brought water grilling to an unbelievable level. People brought their beef from miles away to have him prepare it. Charley had tasked Nick with finding a Husky puppy for Mike, so convinced it would be love at first sight.“You’re taking your sweet time.”

He tucked his beanie in his back pocket. “Is there something you need, Mistress?”

Charley’s toes curled in the pebbles. “How do you do that, with that ridiculous title?”

Mike grins, he’d shaved today. No more scraggly goatee. A smile teased Charley’s lips, she wondered what else he’d shaved as he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt.

The interesting thing, to me, is how I start my characters with something simple like what you just read, and by the time I go through it a second time, who they are begins to come into sharper focus. They take on their own sexual identity, if you will. Mike is completely different from the other four men in my story. He certainly has his place in Charley’s world. This is the second draft, in burgundy.  Where we see Charley understands Mike in a way some of us may not be comfortable with. Just a little warning.

I watch Mike hobble Jasper. He’s the only one who can. Even Jasper bows to man-in-charge Mike. I’ve staked out my usual spot in Holiday River. Precisely three feet away from where the steady bubble of hot water joins cascade_2cold river water. By the time it swirls softly around me, it’s just a hair warmer than bath water with the occasional rivulet of shockingly cold water swirls around just below my shoulders.
I lean my cheek on my knees, letting the current wrap my hair under my knees, tickling my calves. Mike straightens, a little stiffly, pulling off his gray NorthFace beanie and running a rough hand through his sweaty hair. Rain earlier has cooled it down, but we’re barely below eighty even now. Mike reaches the river bank, and pulls off his sweaty t-shirt. He has wide heavy shoulders sprinkled liberally with freckles. Long muscled arms, long long legs. The man can fix anything, a real jack of all trades. He runs a crew in town for Nick. Spends his days keeping the town and our little farm running. At work he runs the show, teaching and managing repairs of every kind. At home he is quiet, likes spending time barefoot in his vegetable garden. His water grilling and smoking technique’s are known even down into Texas. People from miles around bring their beef for him to preserve in the fall. His energy, never-ending. I’ve asked Nick to keep his eyes open for a Husky dog. I doubt he’ll ever find one but it’s the only animal that might have a chance keeping up with him. I’d feel better if a dog ran off with him every night on his seven-mile circuit around the island. Dogs are hard to find now, especially big smart ones. I realize Mike hasn’t moved since taking his shirt off. “You’re taking your sweet time.”
He tucks his beanie in the back pocket of his jeans. “Is there something you need, Mistress?”
My toes curl in the smooth pebbles that cover the bottom of our little man-made pool. I rub my lips lightly across the goose-flesh on my arm. “How do you do that, with that ridiculous title?”
Mike grins, and I realize he’s shaved today. No more scraggly goatee, that smooth bare expanse of chest. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. I wonder what else he’s shaved?
Pushing off the bottom, I float closer to where he is. “Show me more.”
His throat spasms a bit, maybe he just swallowed. I’m tempted to let him look around, make sure the coast is clear. He’ll do it, even though he knows it earns him an immediate punishment. He should trust his Mistress. “We’re alone here.” I do smile after I say it. He gets a lesser beating for making me say it and he knows that too.
Sitting down on the nearest boulder, he unlaces his work boots, setting them aside. Stuffing his socks inside them. Standing, he frees the button of his jeans, a simple tug dropping the zipper. I can read American Eagle on his waistband. He slides his pants down, folding them over his shoes.

“You must think I’ve come unprepared. You should know, I’m not.” I say.
“I just wanted you to enjoy the show, Mistress.”
“Really?”
He shucks off his underwear, stepping down into the water.
“Oh, now you’re in a hurry? Stay right there,” I say. My voice is soft, no hint of command, in my opinion. He stands stock still, the water just above his knees. I love the obedience, I don’t understand why. “It’s been too long since I’ve done a proper inspection.”

His eyes close, he breathes out, long and slow. Taking a step to widen his stance, he lifts his arms, elbows wide, fingers lacing behind his neck.

 

This is the moment, in writing, where I get excited! This is when my curiosity takes the driver’s seat and writing isn’t just a chore, it’s an adventure. Writing about these people, finding out how they fit together, how they clash, what makes this work. This is why I love to write. And it doesn’t matter if it’s a squeaky clean read with barely a kiss or two, like Kawaipuna Cottage, a steamier love story like Solitude, or downright erotic adventure like My Perfect Mistress. I love that moment my characters click with me and I realize, there is so much more about them I want to know.