Five Tips from Lisabet Sarai

 Five tips on how to write erotica from Lisabet Sarai,

1. Set goals for yourself but be willing to be swayed by inspiration
Writing is a balancing act between reasoned, disciplined work and the crazy
dictates of emotion and imagination. I have a writing plan, for at least six
months into the future, and I have a plan for my time whenever I sit down to
write (e.g. how many words I expect to produce or where I expect to end up in
terms of the plot). However, things don't always go according to my plans,
usually because I'll have some other idea that twists the story in a new
direction, or maybe an entirely new story pops into my mind. I've learned not to
be too rigid. Sometimes the wild notions that throw me off the rails are in fact
just what I need.

2. Don't compare yourself to any other author
It's easy to get discouraged about your own writing career when you look at
other authors who seem to be more prolific, more popular, more savvy about
marketing, more eloquent, more original, or whatever. When those comparisons
start to haunt you, do your best to ignore them. Remind yourself that each of us
has her own voice, her own method, her own path to success. Negative emotions
like envy, guilt or a feeling of inadequacy will not motivate you to produce
quality fiction. Negativity tends to smother inspiration.

3. Learn and focus on your personal areas of weaknessListen to your editors, your beta readers and your critique partners. They will
help you to see general areas where you can improve your craft. We all have
them! Once you've identified these areas, pay attention to them when you're at
work writing (or in the editing process, if your methods involve a rough first
draft with lots of later polishing). Never stop focusing on quality and
self-improvement.

4. Don't dismiss grammar and spelling as superficial nicetiesSome authors appear to believe that if a story is sufficiently original and
involving, then using proper grammar and correct spelling are unimportant
frills. I strongly disagree. Grammar, like vocabulary, dialogue, and
description, is a tool for conveying nuances of meaning. An ability to quote or
explain formal grammar rules is not necessary, but an accomplished author knows
how to use the structure of sentences to express her thoughts with greater
precision. Meanwhile, in today's digital world, there is no excuse for
submitting a manuscript full of spelling errors.

Submitting clean manuscripts will endear you to your editors. Furthermore, in
this fast-paced era of e-publishing, many publishers seem to be devoting less
time and effort to editing. Don't expect your publisher to fix your mistakes. If
you're content with a slapdash manuscript full of grammar and spelling gaffes,
you really have no right to call yourself a professional author.

5. Find a writing method that works for you personally
There are as many approaches to writing as there are authors. Some authors do
meticulous outlines and character profiles. Some simply sit down and write
whatever comes to mind. Some do three, four or more drafts, making major
revisions with each iteration. Others edit as they write, so that their first or
second draft is ready to submit for publication. Some authors can split their
time among multiple books or stories simultaneously. Others need to focus on
one WIP at a time.

You'll get advice everywhere about how you "should" write - in how-to books, on
blogs, in critique groups. Be willing to consider the proposed techniques, but
recognize that there is no one correct way to write. You need to experiment
until you find the approaches that are most satisfying and productive for you
personally. You may discover that these change over time, too, or that the best
techniques depend on what you are writing.

Lisabet Sarai is the author of countless pieces of quality erotic fiction. More of Lisabet's work can be found at: http://www.lisabetsarai.com and http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com.

Her Secret Ingredient - Lisabet Sarai

Her Secret Ingredient – M/F/M BDSM Erotic Romance from Lisabet Sarai

Available 15 November from Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/her-secret-ingredient

Buy from Totally Bound and get a sizzling extra chapter, available only to TB VIP readers!

Her Secret Ingredient by Lisabet Sarai

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion

When the Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a domineering perfectionist, Etienne is sceptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also so gorgeous that Emily can't help being attracted to him.

Emily tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key, bespectacled producer for Emily's show, samples the delicacies she intends for Etienne's consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in bed than on the set. However, he can't do nearly as much to advance her ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting M. Duvalier with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results threaten to end her TV career forever - until Harry steps in to save her reputation and claim her heart.

From the Book 

The road dead-ended in a parking lot, empty save for our vehicle. He helped me out of the car and walked me over to the iron railing guarding the overlook. The night was crystal clear. Not a wisp of fog obscured the twinkling majesty of the City by the Bay.

I grasped the balustrade, a bit nervous about the sheer drop on the other side. Standing behind me, Harry rubbed his rigid penis against my butt. Meanwhile, his hands snaked around to clasp and knead my breasts. “See what I mean?” he murmured in my ear, twisting my nipples at the same time.

“It’s—uh—it’s beautiful, Harry. But I don’t think…”

“Don’t think, Em. Just trust me.” He continued to fondle my tits with one hand, while sliding the other down over my belly to poke between my thighs. “I’ll bet you’re wet.” He probed through the jersey of my dress, finding my clit with his usual skill. “Yup, I was right. You love a bit of danger.”

“No, not really—ah!” He rocked my bead like a switch, sending spurts of electricity through my limbs. “Oh, God, Harry, we can’t do this here!”

“Why not? You let me fuck you on the studio floor the day after we met.”

“I— Oh, Harry, please…that was different…”

He had my skirt flipped up in back now, and my panties down around my knees. One hand had lodged inside the front of my dress, where he continued to squeeze my engorged breast. Meanwhile, he explored my wet crevice with nimble fingers, thrusting into my pussy, sliding over my lower lips, then making slick circles around my clit.

The smooth head of his bare cock bobbed against the backs of my thighs. How had he managed to get it out of his trousers while still teasing me this way? I reached behind me, wanting to grasp that lovely hardness and share some of my pleasure.

“No!” He caught my hand in a sticky grip and returned it to the iron pipe. “Don’t let go of the rail. Or do I have to tie you there?”

Lightning shot through me. I thought for a moment I’d faint and topple over into the abyss.

“Tie me?” Craning my neck, I tried to read his expression. Was he serious? The shadows made it impossible to tell.

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre.  She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.

For more information about Lisabet and her writing, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)

Her Secret Ingredient - Lisabet Sarai

Her Secret Ingredient – M/F/M BDSM Erotic Romance from Lisabet Sarai

Available 15 November from Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/her-secret-ingredient

Buy from Totally Bound and get a sizzling extra chapter, available only to TB VIP readers!

Her Secret Ingredient by Lisabet Sarai

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion

When the Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a domineering perfectionist, Etienne is sceptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also so gorgeous that Emily can't help being attracted to him.

Emily tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key, bespectacled producer for Emily's show, samples the delicacies she intends for Etienne's consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in bed than on the set. However, he can't do nearly as much to advance her ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting M. Duvalier with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results threaten to end her TV career forever - until Harry steps in to save her reputation and claim her heart.

From the Book 

“Even our Monsieur le Chef can be swayed by great food. The desserts – oh, I’ve just got to try one of these...”

“No! Harry...”

Before I could stop him, though, he’d nipped a cream puff off the pile and popped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide as he chewed and swallowed.

“Unbelievable! Give me another...”

“Please, no...!” I grabbed at his arm, but it was too late. He’d already devoured a second choux.  “Those are supposed to be for Etienne...”

“Come on, you’ve made at least two dozen. He won’t miss one or two.”  Harry made as if to reach for a third puff. I hung on, trying to restrain him, but he was far stronger than I. Under that dorky clothing, I felt his muscles tense and shift. 

He halted, his fingers inches away from its target, as if suddenly aware of my touch.  Turning away from the tower of pastries, he gazed down at me. Behind his glasses, his mocha-coloured eyes gleamed with powerful purpose.

“Harry?” My stomach did a somersault. My cheeks felt as though they’d just come out of the oven. Meanwhile he held me in that fierce, all-consuming stare.

My right hand still gripped his left arm, near the shoulder. He reached out to rest his on my shoulder, as if we were about to dance. “You know, I actually see something a lot sweeter right here.” He slid his palm down my back and pulled me to his chest with a decisiveness that sent my pulse into overdrive. When he leaned in close, I smelled the almonds on his breath.

“Harry...I don’t think...” 

“Shh!” He enforced this directive by fastening his mouth on mine in an energetic kiss.

He tasted, unsurprisingly, of sugar and cream. His firm lips moulded to mine while his tongue teased at the seam, coaxing me to open. I shouldn’t have given in, but I honestly couldn’t help it. He might look like a bit of nerd, but this guy really knew what he was doing. Wet, but not sloppy – forceful, but not brutal – alternating between deep penetration and playful flickering – he kissed with consummate sensuality. All I wanted was to swoon in his arms, to let him take me over.  He seemed eager to oblige.

The hand on my back wandered down to cup my ass and pull my pelvis against his. I gasped at the size and rigidity of the lump pressed against my pubis. My nipples snapped into aching knots and moisture flooded my already damp panties. He laced the fingers of his other hand through my hair, using them to control the position of my head as he drank his fill of me. 

His mouth slipped away from mine to nuzzle below my ear, somehow finding the precise spot that’s directly connected to my clit.  Meanwhile he groped my breasts, squeezing hard – harder than I usually like, but now I actually wanted more.

Apparently he did, too. He tugged at my blouse, trying to pull it out from the waistband of my skirt, and finally succeeding. The first graze of his fingertips along my naked skin sent a wave of arousal crashing through me.

“Wait – no – aah...oh...” My protests faltered as he deftly extricated one of my breasts and caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged on the taut node of flesh, twisted it, flicked it back and forth. I swear I felt him doing the same to my clit. At the same time, he caught my earlobe between his teeth, worrying it like a pup with a toy. 

Oh God! He was all over me, fondling and caressing whatever flesh he could access through my dishevelled clothing – and it was glorious! Crumpling my skirt to the waist, he worked his clever fingers under the elastic of my panties to stroke my soaked fur. I jerked against his palm, wanting him to explore more deeply. He appeared happy to oblige, pushing into my channel with his fingers while strumming my clit with his thumb. I wormed  my way into his loose trousers and clung to his cotton-covered ass, feeling his gluts flex as he ground his astonishing hardness against my belly.

I’d never doubt my grandmother again. 

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre.  She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.

For more information about Lisabet and her writing, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai

 Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.

Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to that rugged, arid land in order to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire’s embrace. Instead, she’s taken captive by a brigand, who turns out to be the ruler’s half-brother Pratan, and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.

Cursed before birth by Amir’s jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen’s hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual—offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveal Rajasthan’s amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to the constraints of her life in England?

You can buy the book at your favorite online store:

Amazon

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

All Romance Ebooks

Total-E-Bound  (TEB can send books directly to your ereader)

From the book

Pratan lifted her off the horse. She cringed at the nasty slurping sound as her pussy and rear hole released the twin dildos. Both orifices felt loose and raw. Her shoulders and thighs ached from the strain of fighting off orgasms.

Cradling her in his arms, the bandit carried her to a low divan near one wall and laid her gently on the silken cushions. Despite the soft fabric, the stripes on her back flared into fresh anguish.

“Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse and strange to her ears. “I don’t think I could have borne any more.”

“What makes you think we’re finished?” he asked with a devilish grin. Nevertheless his touch was tender as he brushed her tangled hair off her forehead. Kneeling beside the couch, he turned her face to his.

Those eyes again. The eyes of a madman—a beast—a god. She wanted to look away, but his gaze held her fast, searching her mind, or so it seemed. An awful temptation seized her. She would tell him everything—about the parchment, about her mission… Perhaps then he would be merciful and let her rest.

Before she could act on the impulse, though, he leaned in to claim a kiss. Automatically, despite her sore muscles, she reached up to encircle him with her arms. His firm lips sealed hers, capturing her moans of new pleasure. Her battered cunny wept with new need. As he plundered her mouth like the brigand he was, Cecily could do nothing but surrender.

He tasted of spices, the remnants of their lavish repast. Hot musk rose from his sweat-slicked skin. She felt his knotted muscles bunch and twist under her fingers as he straddled her prone form, their mouths still locked. His rigid member prodded her pubis. Despite her exhaustion and pain, she wanted him. Arching her back, she struggled to align her cleft with his teasing cock. Her stretched quim had never felt so empty.

Pratan broke the kiss, chuckling. Now he gripped her wrists in his huge hands, trapping her against the upholstery. “I thought you’d had enough!”

You can buy the book at your favorite online store:

Amazon

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

All Romance Ebooks

Total-E-Bound  (TEB can send books directly to your ereader)

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai

 Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.

Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to that rugged, arid land in order to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire’s embrace. Instead, she’s taken captive by a brigand, who turns out to be the ruler’s half-brother Pratan, and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.

Cursed before birth by Amir’s jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen’s hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual—offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveal Rajasthan’s amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to the constraints of her life in England?

You can buy the book at your favorite online store:

Amazon

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

All Romance Ebooks

Total-E-Bound  (TEB can send books directly to your ereader)

From the book

“Your money and your jewels,” he growled in Hindi. “Quick now!”

Cecily lowered her gaze, feigning modesty. Meanwhile, she tightened her hand into a fist to release the knife. Nothing happened.

Her fall must have damaged the mechanism. Bloody machines…

And, in the interim, the bandit had produced his own much longer blade, which he now held to her throat. “Do you understand me, woman?” He switched to Rajasthani. When she still didn’t respond, he tried Gujarati. “Give me your valuables. Now!” Apparently losing patience, he plucked the gold hoop from her left earlobe with his other hand, while still pressing the cold steel against her skin.

“Ow!” she protested as the wire tugged at her flesh before pulling free.

“Aha! You can speak after all!” He glanced around the plush interior, no doubt noting brocaded cushions, the silver tea service, the crystal goblets secured to the wall in their polished wood racks. “You look like you’re loaded, lady. Give me your purse before I get tired of waiting and slit your lovely throat.” Despite her Indian costume and the dusky complexion she’d inherited from her Ceylonese mother, the brigand addressed her in English this time, probably cued by the obvious provenance of the artefacts that surrounded her. The clarity of his pronunciation surprised her.

Sprawled on the floor, tangled in her clothing, Cecily glared up at him. A swathe of dark cloth wrapped around his head hid everything but his deep brown eyes. Sheltering under elegantly arched eyebrows, those eyes glittered with malice and craft. He had long, lush eyelashes that any woman would envy and a high forehead that bespoke considerable intelligence. A brute, no doubt, but scarcely dumb. She’d have to move with the utmost care.

“If you will put somewhat more distance between your blade and my flesh,” she began, keeping her voice sweet and level, “I will be able to reach my money. It’s pinned into my waistband.”

The bandit’s eyes flicked to her bare midriff. She let her hand drift down towards the concealed pistol as though she were about to extricate a hidden pouch of coins.

Before she could reach her goal, he shot out his hand, catching her wrist in an iron grip. “Allow me.”He slipped his dagger into a sheath slung across his chest, then grabbed her other wrist and pinned it with the first. His hand was large enough to encircle both of hers.

“Now, then…” He trailed his fingertips across the naked gap between her blouse and her skirt. Electricity sizzled up Cecily’s spine. The next thing she knew, he slid his hand under the fabric of her skirt, rooting around for items more solid than her soft, round belly.

He groped for a moment, while she held her breath. His calloused fingers struck sparks from her flesh. Of course, he discovered her weapon almost instantly. He drew it out, chuckling once more when he saw its size. Her skin mourned the loss of his touch.

“What a surprise! A gun instead of the promised gold.” He tightened his hold on her wrists until she feared the bones would snap. “Who are you, my lady? Not, I think, a common traveller.”

“That’s none of your concern…sir.” Cecily decided that it might be wise to be polite.

“Oh, I think it is. Not many women travel on their own across the wastes of my country, especially in the most modern of conveyances. Those that do are wise to carry a weapon—but this one will not help you. Who sent you, madam? What is your business here?”

“I’ll not share my business with a common brigand.”

“And if I were someone else? Would you tell me then how and why you happen to cross my path?”

Cecily of course had a cover story. Her documents attested that she was the sister of a wealthy Bombay textile merchant, come to Rajasthan looking for business contacts. She was not, however, about to divulge anything to this rogue.

“I will tell you nothing.”

“Indeed? I think I may be able to change your mind.” After tucking the pistol into the folds of his garment, he drew out a length of what, aside from its strange silvery colour, looked like common rope. He dangled it near her trapped wrists. “Bind,” he said.

The rope came alive, coiling like a snake. Quick as a cobra strike, it looped itself around her forearms—once, twice, half a dozen times, pulling tighter with each cycle. Before she could devise a plan, Cecily found her crossed arms were laced together as firmly as the back of a corset.

“How dare you? Untie me at once!”

“So that you can stab me? Or shoot me? Who knows what other cunning devices you have hidden about your charming person? No, on the contrary, I think I’d be wise to bind your legs as well.”

You can buy the book at your favorite online store:

Amazon

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

All Romance Ebooks

Total-E-Bound  (TEB can send books directly to your ereader)

Lisabet Sarai

 Five tips on how to write erotica from Lisabet Sarai,

1. Set goals for yourself but be willing to be swayed by inspiration
Writing is a balancing act between reasoned, disciplined work and the crazy
dictates of emotion and imagination. I have a writing plan, for at least six
months into the future, and I have a plan for my time whenever I sit down to
write (e.g. how many words I expect to produce or where I expect to end up in
terms of the plot). However, things don't always go according to my plans,
usually because I'll have some other idea that twists the story in a new
direction, or maybe an entirely new story pops into my mind. I've learned not to
be too rigid. Sometimes the wild notions that throw me off the rails are in fact
just what I need.

2. Don't compare yourself to any other author
It's easy to get discouraged about your own writing career when you look at
other authors who seem to be more prolific, more popular, more savvy about
marketing, more eloquent, more original, or whatever. When those comparisons
start to haunt you, do your best to ignore them. Remind yourself that each of us
has her own voice, her own method, her own path to success. Negative emotions
like envy, guilt or a feeling of inadequacy will not motivate you to produce
quality fiction. Negativity tends to smother inspiration.

3. Learn and focus on your personal areas of weaknessListen to your editors, your beta readers and your critique partners. They will
help you to see general areas where you can improve your craft. We all have
them! Once you've identified these areas, pay attention to them when you're at
work writing (or in the editing process, if your methods involve a rough first
draft with lots of later polishing). Never stop focusing on quality and
self-improvement.

4. Don't dismiss grammar and spelling as superficial nicetiesSome authors appear to believe that if a story is sufficiently original and
involving, then using proper grammar and correct spelling are unimportant
frills. I strongly disagree. Grammar, like vocabulary, dialogue, and
description, is a tool for conveying nuances of meaning. An ability to quote or
explain formal grammar rules is not necessary, but an accomplished author knows
how to use the structure of sentences to express her thoughts with greater
precision. Meanwhile, in today's digital world, there is no excuse for
submitting a manuscript full of spelling errors.

Submitting clean manuscripts will endear you to your editors. Furthermore, in
this fast-paced era of e-publishing, many publishers seem to be devoting less
time and effort to editing. Don't expect your publisher to fix your mistakes. If
you're content with a slapdash manuscript full of grammar and spelling gaffes,
you really have no right to call yourself a professional author.

5. Find a writing method that works for you personallyThere are as many approaches to writing as there are authors. Some authors do
meticulous outlines and character profiles. Some simply sit down and write
whatever comes to mind. Some do three, four or more drafts, making major
revisions with each iteration. Others edit as they write, so that their first or
second draft is ready to submit for publication. Some authors can split their
time among multiple books or stories simultaneously. Others need to focus on
one WIP at a time.

You'll get advice everywhere about how you "should" write - in how-to books, on
blogs, in critique groups. Be willing to consider the proposed techniques, but
recognize that there is no one correct way to write. You need to experiment
until you find the approaches that are most satisfying and productive for you
personally. You may discover that these change over time, too, or that the best
techniques depend on what you are writing.

Lisabet Sarai is the author of countless pieces of quality erotic fiction. More of Lisabet's work can be found at: http://www.lisabetsarai.com and http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com.

Coming Together: In Vein - edited by Lisabet Sarai

Helping Vampires to Save the World

Let's face it. Vampires are sexy. Something about the undead stirs up our juices. Perhaps it's their irresistible power. Even when we know the danger, we're so very tempted to surrender to their all-consuming lust. Maybe we want to comfort them, to save them a lonely, bloody eternity. Maybe we secretly crave immortality ourselves.

 

Vampires are frequently portrayed as evil or at least amoral, viewing humanity from the jaded perspective of centuries. Now, though, vampires are doing their part to save the world.

Coming Together: In Vein is a brand new collection of vampire-themed erotica and erotic romance edited by Lisabet Sarai. All sales of this novel-length volume support Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières). MSF works in nearly 70 countries providing medical aid to those most in need regardless of their race, religion, or political affiliation. Right now, despite being barred from the country, MSF doctors and nurses are in Syria, working with patients from both sides of the civil war. They're performing surgery in caves and sneaking into refugee camps to distribute desperately needed medications.

You can help MSF in its life-saving mission, simply by indulging your passion for vampires. Buy a copy of Coming Together: In Vein in ebook, Kindleformat, or print. Enjoy! Then help spread the word! Every copy we sell has the potential to save someone's life.

The listof contributors includes many names you'll recognize. Every one of these authors has provided his or her work free of charge, to support the charitable aims of the project. Furthermore, the editor is giving away a free copy of her short story collection Body Electric  to everyone who buys a copy of Coming Together: In Vein. (For details of this offer, clickhere.)

You'll find an excerpt below – just to whet your appetite.

Sink your teeth into Coming Together: In Vein. Help our vampires save the world.

***** 

From “The New Normal” by Jay Lygon

I went to the doorway, but of course could not enter. That lanky shadow could only be Zoran.

“Is that really you, Dusan? You’re alive?” Clearly, he doubted.

“I’m not exactly dead.” Truth might have been be the first causality of war, but sometimes it refused to go gently into that good night—until some politician staked it through the heart. Like me, my version of the truth had one foot in the grave.

“You’ll be shot if you stand out in the open. It’s too dark to see the sniper warning, but this street is dangerous. Come inside, please.”

Zoran was still a foolish boy. Didn’t he think about where he was standing? After all, he was the one who studied folktales and myths at university. Back then I hadn’t understood how important that knowledge could be in the modern world, but since things had changed, I could have told him how the doorframe—splintered as it was—protected him from things far worse than snipers. The threshold was a place of powerful magic that divided the realm of the supernatural from the human. Two years ago, such an idea would have seemed laughably medieval, but conditions in Sarajevo had spun back to that point in time. Electricity and peace were the new fairytales.

The threshold was also the symbol of the body, inviolate. The old sicknesses could still kill you, as there were no hospitals or doctors left to speak of, but there were new diseases out there that were worse. Invite anyone to come inside at your peril. And yet, he pleaded with me.

Inside the foyer, Zoran immediately grasped me in the embrace I’d long dreamed of, but with a different sort of passion. I closed my eyes and wished the desperation was lust, not fear. With stiff arms, I hugged him back and murmured words of comfort. Yes, it’s me. No, I’m not a ghost. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Yes, I missed you.

He pulled back to shake my hand and kiss my cheeks three times. His face wasn’t exactly as I’d remembered it. It was more gaunt than before, and his brown eyes had lost some of their puppy dog openness. He tried to glance away from my stare, but couldn’t. He shouldn’t have looked into my eyes. I could have held him there forever. I could have compelled him to do things with his mouth that he’d only done in my fantasies.

That was an old hunger. It gnawed at me when I’d had my fill of blood and the rest of the night stretched before me. Regret was a terrible thing when it seemed it could haunt me for all eternity. Sentiment, or more likely pride, stopped me from commanding him to his knees, but I still took a kiss. Like the old days, he laughed and pulled away, but he didn’t push. Instead, he grasped my arm. A ropey blue vein crossed the back of his hand to his knuckle. It twitched with his pulse. Before my hungers overwhelmed me, I had to look away.

The foyer walls met at odd angles. Some artillery blast, maybe the one that destroyed my apartment, had knocked his building sideways. It made me feel as if I were falling even though I knew I wasn’t.

“Come on upstairs. Everyone will be so glad to see you again.” Zoran bounded halfway up the staircase before stopping to look over his shoulder at me. It was if we were in a different time, before the siege began, when we’d staggered into this foyer late at night. He’d jog up the stairs, sure I was behind him, while I held back and wondered if I could stand to watch him turn into someone else for his family. Reluctantly, then and now, I followed.

 His butt flexed under his jeans, a mesmerizing sight as I followed it up the three flights to his family’s apartment. At the landing, he said, “You look hungry,” and I tried not to laugh. Did he have any idea what he was saying?