By far the greatest retailer of e-books is Amazon by way of its Kindle operation.
And you should always consider self-publishing on Kindle - for there is no charge to do so and you get a royalty for every copy purchased by the public at large.
There are some traps to avoid.
If you do not want, or cannot afford, professional editing of your draft manuscript, you will have to turn your .doct into an old fashioned .doc and make it fit for e-publishing. This can be a lengthy process, depending upon how many e-publishing formatting rules you unwittingly broke while churning out that draft. But your helpful e-publisher might be able to help when you load your files: auto text checking takes place.
The Kindle automatic text vetting system does not pick up very much more than spelling mistakes. You might consider setting up a Smashwords account (it is free) and using their auto vetter to eliminate all major format errors. Newbie authors love indenting lines with the tab key and separating paragraphs with the enter key: both techniques tell some publishing systems to do odd things with the format. Smashwords makes you take them all out - every single one - so that your text is readable on all devices. The first time takes so long you make sure that future works enter into the system far more cleaner.
Kindle insists that you only have one account with them. And each account can only have one bank account to receive the royalties you earn. And you are not supposed to share your account details with any third party: all in all it is very tricky to have a partnership unless you, and they, turn a blind eye. An account has to have a unique email address, a unique bank account and a unique tax id in order for it to be unique. Creative people have found ways to provide all three, to the complete satisfaction of all concerned.
Kindle will offer you special deals in exchange for having exclusive rights to publish your book, each deal being a full 90 days with no time off for good behavior. And this is really simple math: if you are only using Kindle, you would be mad not to take the special offer. And if you have multiple outlets, you should totally avoid it: you might get some extra cash from Amazon, but will have to give up all other book sales by way of compensation.
When it comes setting a price for your work, there are some boundaries you should be aware of. Kindle is happy with works between $1.99 and $9.99 - they will give you 70% of the take as a royalty. But between $9.99 and $200.00 you can only have 35%. Over $200.00 and you are back at 70% again. So unless you have a really perverse trust in your best lucky number, make he price $9.99 or less - or over $19.98 Once the price gets over $19.98 a 35% royalty is larger than a 70% royalty on a $9.99 work.
If any of this requires deeper explanation, do drop me a line. After you have dropped in on Kathy to see what she has chosen for her K topic.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
J is for Jester
There are not a great number of ancient documents regarding Jesters, so what we do know about them has to be pieced together.
In distant times, it is recorded that persons of very low natural intelligence (sometime known as "Village Idiots") were seen as being blessed by the gods, and were freely allowed to say things that were not allowed to be said by others.
The concept passed over to two groups of highly intelligent people: professional household staff who were employed to entertain the lord and lady, and assist in rearing their children - and independent groups who toured as troubadours to make their living entertaining the populace at large. And, as far as we can tell, in medieval England, the numbers were equally divided between male and female jesters. The clearest indication we have is just one single historical document that recorded a census of household staff, and it recorded almost as many female jesters as male ones.
But it makes sense that intelligent ladies would want to be jesters: among their duties were singing, inventing stories to amuse young children, and act as a sort of bellwether in household and inter-household politicking of the day. Tasks well suited to clever ladies, who had no real opportunity to find employment that would give full rein to their talents.
The easiest way to distinguish the professional jester from village idiots, was that the former, to a man (and woman) were shaven bald. Hence the pied hat to protect the gleaming pate from the sun and from scorn. But in fiction, we do not have to be that slavish to fact, and we may use our poetic license to endow our females with long flowing locks, if that is what we wish.
"This is all very fascinating, Dave, "I hear you say: "But what on earth has it got to do with spankdom?"
A good question. So here is the reveal:
The most frequently member of the household staff who went to the whipping post or birching block was the jester. By far. They were famed for the number of beatings they got in their professional careers.
Their quick tongues, and constant urging to be more outrageous, led them to an excess of invective that could only by atoned by a short, sharp, painful reminder to know where the line that should not be crossed was drawn. (That last sentence is a tad poor on syntax, but you get the point).
Which means that we have a rich medieval source for investigating the power play between Dukes, Earls and their hapless (for me, female) jesters and the dance those jesters sometimes endured. Have a look at No Jesting Matter if you would like to see what I did with the notion. And if you need a kick of inspiration, do see what your muse can come up with on this track.
In distant times, it is recorded that persons of very low natural intelligence (sometime known as "Village Idiots") were seen as being blessed by the gods, and were freely allowed to say things that were not allowed to be said by others.
The concept passed over to two groups of highly intelligent people: professional household staff who were employed to entertain the lord and lady, and assist in rearing their children - and independent groups who toured as troubadours to make their living entertaining the populace at large. And, as far as we can tell, in medieval England, the numbers were equally divided between male and female jesters. The clearest indication we have is just one single historical document that recorded a census of household staff, and it recorded almost as many female jesters as male ones.
But it makes sense that intelligent ladies would want to be jesters: among their duties were singing, inventing stories to amuse young children, and act as a sort of bellwether in household and inter-household politicking of the day. Tasks well suited to clever ladies, who had no real opportunity to find employment that would give full rein to their talents.
The easiest way to distinguish the professional jester from village idiots, was that the former, to a man (and woman) were shaven bald. Hence the pied hat to protect the gleaming pate from the sun and from scorn. But in fiction, we do not have to be that slavish to fact, and we may use our poetic license to endow our females with long flowing locks, if that is what we wish.
"This is all very fascinating, Dave, "I hear you say: "But what on earth has it got to do with spankdom?"
A good question. So here is the reveal:
The most frequently member of the household staff who went to the whipping post or birching block was the jester. By far. They were famed for the number of beatings they got in their professional careers.
Their quick tongues, and constant urging to be more outrageous, led them to an excess of invective that could only by atoned by a short, sharp, painful reminder to know where the line that should not be crossed was drawn. (That last sentence is a tad poor on syntax, but you get the point).
Which means that we have a rich medieval source for investigating the power play between Dukes, Earls and their hapless (for me, female) jesters and the dance those jesters sometimes endured. Have a look at No Jesting Matter if you would like to see what I did with the notion. And if you need a kick of inspiration, do see what your muse can come up with on this track.
I is for Inspiration
You cannot rely on your muse to give you a never-ending supply of plots and plot twists: muses seem to have their own agendas, which, as far as I can tell, includes long sabbaticals of vacations that leave you staring at your keyboard aghast at the lack of any words to type.
Sometimes our muse does work overtime on our behalf: more than once I have woken with a complete short story sitting fresh in my mind, just waiting to be transcribed into word processed text. Almost like a reader, simply following along what is predestined to happen.
But that is rare. Two or three times for me, so far.
So what can one do to break spanker writer's block?
Personally, I find the photo-blogs to be a fine source of stimulating the creative juices. It really does not matter which blog you use - they all seem to cycle through the same stock of photographs.
The central core of a spanking story is the set up, execution and aftermath of one or more spankings. To make the set up credible, we may need to provide background structure and believable motives. Once we have got the miscreant spankee ready, the whopping itself rarely causes us problems. And if the set up is believable and the spanking effective, the aftermath is often written on wordsmith auto-pilot, if you get my drift.
So - pick a photo that in some way intrigues you: and try to explain what is happening. Whose bottom is that? And why is it getting whopped in that particular manner? Work backwards to the events immediately prior to the spanking, and then backwards from there to how the whole think got set up in the first place. One of my favorite characters - Megan - first saw the light of day by me using this exact process.
And sometimes the photo doesn't even have to be about spanking to set you off. I once saw an ancient black and white photo of a uniformed young woman escorting a blond nude to some (off screen) location. And in trying to explain to myself what might be going on, a whole novella about a Russian serf mixing it with cossacks and aristocrats rose out of the mist. Ironically, the scene in the photo didn't actually happen in the tale - a more informal whopping took its place.
I suppose using photos is a variation of "one picture is worth a thousand words." So - there's a picture - now go and provide the thousand words it is equal to.
Another useful technique is to re-read your own old stuff. This sometimes sets off a fresh line worthy of expending composition time over. Mainly, I find, for adding extra episodes to a series of short stories - but - hey - if you have spanko block, getting it broken is the first order of business.
Personally, I find reading other spanking authors' works is extremely counter-productive as a source of inspiration: as is watching videos. For me, those avenues lead into the deadest of dead ends for inspiring creative thoughts. Great entertainment, mind you: just lousy for drumming up fresh thoughts of one's own. For me, that is - if it works for you, more power to your key strokes!
Now I suggest you should trot over to the Incessantly Spanked blog for a different take on the letter "I"...
Sometimes our muse does work overtime on our behalf: more than once I have woken with a complete short story sitting fresh in my mind, just waiting to be transcribed into word processed text. Almost like a reader, simply following along what is predestined to happen.
But that is rare. Two or three times for me, so far.
So what can one do to break spanker writer's block?
Personally, I find the photo-blogs to be a fine source of stimulating the creative juices. It really does not matter which blog you use - they all seem to cycle through the same stock of photographs.
The central core of a spanking story is the set up, execution and aftermath of one or more spankings. To make the set up credible, we may need to provide background structure and believable motives. Once we have got the miscreant spankee ready, the whopping itself rarely causes us problems. And if the set up is believable and the spanking effective, the aftermath is often written on wordsmith auto-pilot, if you get my drift.
So - pick a photo that in some way intrigues you: and try to explain what is happening. Whose bottom is that? And why is it getting whopped in that particular manner? Work backwards to the events immediately prior to the spanking, and then backwards from there to how the whole think got set up in the first place. One of my favorite characters - Megan - first saw the light of day by me using this exact process.
And sometimes the photo doesn't even have to be about spanking to set you off. I once saw an ancient black and white photo of a uniformed young woman escorting a blond nude to some (off screen) location. And in trying to explain to myself what might be going on, a whole novella about a Russian serf mixing it with cossacks and aristocrats rose out of the mist. Ironically, the scene in the photo didn't actually happen in the tale - a more informal whopping took its place.
I suppose using photos is a variation of "one picture is worth a thousand words." So - there's a picture - now go and provide the thousand words it is equal to.
Another useful technique is to re-read your own old stuff. This sometimes sets off a fresh line worthy of expending composition time over. Mainly, I find, for adding extra episodes to a series of short stories - but - hey - if you have spanko block, getting it broken is the first order of business.
Personally, I find reading other spanking authors' works is extremely counter-productive as a source of inspiration: as is watching videos. For me, those avenues lead into the deadest of dead ends for inspiring creative thoughts. Great entertainment, mind you: just lousy for drumming up fresh thoughts of one's own. For me, that is - if it works for you, more power to your key strokes!
Now I suggest you should trot over to the Incessantly Spanked blog for a different take on the letter "I"...
H is for Humor
Spanking is inherently humorous - and we spankos, in general, are noted for our good humored nature and outward going personalities.
And when writing spanko fiction, the urge to raise a laugh is always lingering near our fingertips.
But, by your leave, I would offer you counsel. The standard spanking tale has its three classic stages: the set up, the execution and the aftermath. Most readers don't mind humor in the set up, and humor in the aftermath: but are highly critical of humor in the execution. The set up can easily be high slap stick, and the aftermath a kaleidoscope of wit: but the spanking itself had better be told straight. It would seem that for some readers (or to be more accurate, some of my readers) somethings are simply off limits for use as laugh material, and spankings themselves are tight inside that category.
Most of the time.
But from the comments it got, I got away with this one:
Sometimes we can smile at ourselves. We just need to take care we do not do it all the time ...
And when writing spanko fiction, the urge to raise a laugh is always lingering near our fingertips.
But, by your leave, I would offer you counsel. The standard spanking tale has its three classic stages: the set up, the execution and the aftermath. Most readers don't mind humor in the set up, and humor in the aftermath: but are highly critical of humor in the execution. The set up can easily be high slap stick, and the aftermath a kaleidoscope of wit: but the spanking itself had better be told straight. It would seem that for some readers (or to be more accurate, some of my readers) somethings are simply off limits for use as laugh material, and spankings themselves are tight inside that category.
Most of the time.
But from the comments it got, I got away with this one:
I looked at her buttocks. The brush had created two large areas, one on each side, that were as bright a color as when I had completely finished yesterday.I place the cool of the wood on top the angry red marks from that first swat.I lifted my hand – and then a cell phone started to ring from somewhere in one of the pockets in her gingham dress.“It’s my mother!” she gasped.She stood up, walked to and fro, while idly caressing her rump as she spoke. “No, I didn't hear the phone. I've just come out of the bathroom. No, I'm OK. Yes, I'd have phoned you if I'd thrown up again. Yes, I promise. Love you too. Bye.”She came back and lay over my lap again.“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”I put my hand on to the far side of her waist, and pulled her in snug. Skirt back up – two red oblong marks, one on each cheek. The next stroke was going to land right on top of them…“Ready?”She nodded.I lifted my arm – and then, downstairs, Sandy (our Airedale terrier) exploded into frantic barking and banging against the dining room French windows.“Sheesh!” I said, as I stood Megan up. “Don’t go away.”I scampered down the stairs. Sandy had spotted a squirrel on our lawn, and there would be no peace until he was let out to chase the intruder away.When I got back, Megan had not moved from where I left her.I smiled. “No problem. Let’s continue.”She nodded and climbed back into position.Skirt up, tap the target, lift the arm and … pause.She looked up quizzically.“Just making sure we are not going to get interrupted again.”She smiled, nodded and dropped her head down.I tensed up my forearm – and then, my desk phone started to ring.“Jesus H Christ! “ I blasphemed. Megan started to stand up. “Don’t move!”I angled back and somehow got the phone to my ear. “No! I'm not sodding interested in new windows! Sod off!”I tried to slam the phone down, but it turned out to be harder than I thought when the cradle was at the limit of my arm’s reach. After a short delay, I turned my attention back to Megan.“Right! I'll deliver the next four slaps come hell or high water.”I was breathing heavily, and it dawned on me that my anger could result in Megan getting far more than she bargained for.I waited just a few seconds, until my breathing had returned to normal, before resuming.Her bare bottom still awaited my attention. So - tap the target like this, and with no delay, swing back full stretch, and …. and then - the smoke alarm went off.I jumped up and left Megan sprawled on the floor as I raced downstairs. The kitchen was full of dark blue smoke and the smell of burnt milk was intense. On the kitchen stove, a blacked saucepan was the source of it all. Megan would have to do with cold milk with her cookies …I filled the saucepan with cold water, with much sizzling and hissing. Then, to stop the alarm, I used the simple old fashioned method of pulling out the batteries, and throwing them, with the alarm, into the trash can, with as much venom as I could muster.I stormed back upstairs, and now Megan was visibly alarmed at my anger.“Are you all right, Mister Brown?” she asked with some trepidation.“Yes, yes. I'm OK. Don't worry. I'll not vent my spleen on your rear.”“If you want to vent your spleen, Mister Brown, I wouldn't want to stop you.”“Just let’s get through the next four, and then we shall talk about it.”She got back in position, skirt up, bottom bare, two red marks, and the brush lying on top of them. I paused again to get my breath, and temper, under control.A careful lift back to take aim – and then the front door bell rang.“Ignore it, Mister Brown, they'll go away.”I wasn’t just how far the loud crack would carry through the house, so lay the brush back on top of her bottom. The bell rang again.We waited. More than long enough, Whoever it was, they must have left by now.I took careful aim again, and the bell rang again.“They must know I'm here,” I said. “I shall have to go and answer it.’She nodded, stood up and pulled her panties up – in case my visitor, or visitors, had to come indoors.I leaped casually down the stairs three at a time, and opened the front door, to find a young man and an elderly lady with bibles in one hand, leaflets in the other, and determined expressions on their faces.“Sorry!” I blurted, “Family emergency! Come back next week!” Next week I would be many, many miles away from here. Hah! That would learn them.Before they could respond, I slammed the door and raced back upstairs.“Now – where were we?”This time she pulled down her panties before climbing back over my lap.“Ready?”She nodded.I took aim once more – and then she leaped off my knee, clutching her rump, and hopping from one foot to the other as she danced round the room.“What is it? What’s wrong?”“Cramp. I’ve got cramp in my butt! I must have had it tensed up too tight for too long.”I put the brush down. After a couple of minutes she stopped the jogging around.“Come on,” I said. “The fates have got it in for us today. I think you should trot off home.”
Sometimes we can smile at ourselves. We just need to take care we do not do it all the time ...
Sunday, June 8, 2014
G is for Good Hiding
The expression "good hiding" is going out of fashion. When it was in vogue, everyone understood that "hiding" was akin to "tanning" - vigorously beating calf skin or similar to turn it into leather. Very vigorously. So a Victorian reader coming across the line "That evening, Suzette was given a good hiding by her father" needed no further description. Everything was present for the reader to understand precisely what sort of punishment Suzette had received. Back when the term was in vogue.
Times change. In turning the classic "Tom Brown's Schooldays" from page to a visual entertainment, film producers have to take the sentence "Tom was flogged the following morning" and turn it into an interpretation with much greater detail. A modern audience, not understanding what a Victorian schoolboy flogging entailed, need to be given context so they can understand what a fearsome experience it had been back then. And just how sore poor Tom ended up.
When we spanko authors have the creative juices flowing, we can describe each and every strike of a spanking in enough detail to elicit some empathetic reaction in our readers. And no, I don't mean the newbie's trap of simply repeating SPANK! over and over and over to express some sort of gay abandon: I mean more in the manner you will find in "Over a Barrel" on my free stories page.
We have taken rather a round about route to get to where I wanted to go: when it comes to spankings, we do not always have to spell out every single slap. If you set up the scenario with enough detail that the reader has all that is needed to connect the dots, it is quite OK to let them fill in the scene with as much detail they need to enjoy what is going on. (Not all the time, though - we cannot get away with "and so to bed" in the manner of Samuel Pepys every single time and expect our readers to continue to invest their time in our discourse without ever questioning why they are doing it).
I shall give you a practical example.
In the book "Just Wilhelmina", set in the 1930's, the heroine and her three fellow pranksters get whopped and walloped in sufficient detail enough times that on one occasion I was able to utilize what I call the good hiding principle. Wilhelmina and Violet - both in their mid-teens - are sipping cups of tea in The Olde Tea Shoppe in their village, when we get the set up:
That simple payoff line has gotten me more comments than just about anything else I have written. And not your "Hey - where did the spanking go?" sort of complaint, either.
Sometimes "That evening, Suzette was given a good hiding by her father" really is sufficient. Which might be one those tricks you need to have in your bag - if ever the spanko version of writer's block hits you. That's when you really cannot think of a fresh and invigorating way of recounting how a pair of pale buttocks were turned a fine shade of crimson under their latest onslaught. If you have set up the scene with enough detail, sometimes you can let the reader "write" their own spanking scene on your behalf. (Just don't do it too often.)
Having read all that, why not now take a trip over to see what Jocelyn Devon has for her letter G?
Times change. In turning the classic "Tom Brown's Schooldays" from page to a visual entertainment, film producers have to take the sentence "Tom was flogged the following morning" and turn it into an interpretation with much greater detail. A modern audience, not understanding what a Victorian schoolboy flogging entailed, need to be given context so they can understand what a fearsome experience it had been back then. And just how sore poor Tom ended up.
When we spanko authors have the creative juices flowing, we can describe each and every strike of a spanking in enough detail to elicit some empathetic reaction in our readers. And no, I don't mean the newbie's trap of simply repeating SPANK! over and over and over to express some sort of gay abandon: I mean more in the manner you will find in "Over a Barrel" on my free stories page.
We have taken rather a round about route to get to where I wanted to go: when it comes to spankings, we do not always have to spell out every single slap. If you set up the scenario with enough detail that the reader has all that is needed to connect the dots, it is quite OK to let them fill in the scene with as much detail they need to enjoy what is going on. (Not all the time, though - we cannot get away with "and so to bed" in the manner of Samuel Pepys every single time and expect our readers to continue to invest their time in our discourse without ever questioning why they are doing it).
I shall give you a practical example.
In the book "Just Wilhelmina", set in the 1930's, the heroine and her three fellow pranksters get whopped and walloped in sufficient detail enough times that on one occasion I was able to utilize what I call the good hiding principle. Wilhelmina and Violet - both in their mid-teens - are sipping cups of tea in The Olde Tea Shoppe in their village, when we get the set up:
Wilhelmina arrived forty five minutes late for their ten o’clock meeting. Violet was extremely annoyed.“I owe you for getting me that strapping from your dad,” Violet said with quiet, yet firm, emphasis.“You owe me?”“I still have the cane that my brother used to use on me, back at my house.”“You have?”“Twelve would be about right. That would settle the score.”“Twelve?”“And since we are Sigma Sorority Sisters, you would have to repay them straight back.”There was a careful consideration of this offer, now that had been laid on the table. Wilhelmina sipped slowly from her china cup while looking carefully at the blonde minx sitting opposite her. She placed the cup carefully down upon its saucer.“That would be … very acceptable,” she finally said.“You think this is a good plan?”“It’s one of the best plans I’ve ever heard.”“I’ve the house to myself from ten until noon tomorrow.”“Then I’ll be there at ten.”“Don’t keep me waiting. I can get very annoyed if kept waiting. You would not want to get the cane from me if I was very annoyed.”“Right.”---oo0oo---
---oo0oo---
That simple payoff line has gotten me more comments than just about anything else I have written. And not your "Hey - where did the spanking go?" sort of complaint, either.
Sometimes "That evening, Suzette was given a good hiding by her father" really is sufficient. Which might be one those tricks you need to have in your bag - if ever the spanko version of writer's block hits you. That's when you really cannot think of a fresh and invigorating way of recounting how a pair of pale buttocks were turned a fine shade of crimson under their latest onslaught. If you have set up the scene with enough detail, sometimes you can let the reader "write" their own spanking scene on your behalf. (Just don't do it too often.)
Having read all that, why not now take a trip over to see what Jocelyn Devon has for her letter G?
Friday, June 6, 2014
F is for Fantasy
In modern times, the opportunity for non-consensual spanking gets rarer and rarer. And that is a very good thing in reality.
In spanko fiction, that a spanking is non-consensual can add spice to the scene: which gives the author the choices of going back in time or of asking the reader to really, really suspend disbelief in order to enjoy one's latest tale.
The third way out is to go into the land of fantasy: if you create your own universe, then every law in it is at the dictate of the author. Creating a whole universe is a bit overwhelming, so we tend to give you insight into just a bit of one. One that caters to the plot needs. If we have a brand new "Department of Corporal Corrections" set up in down-town New York, we don't want to bore the reader with too much information about how it got built: just now that it is built, let us follow the adventures of various inmates as they go about their dealing beatings.
I have dabbled in fantasy - "The Gleam in Her Eye" uses eroticobots as a plot device to explore various aspects of the spanko psyche. ("What's an eroticobot, Dave?" I hear you call. It is a young lady dressed as a robot to make the tale work. Don't worry about it - it is all great fun (advt.) ).
I have just loaded on the free stories section a speculative work that takes the notion of the Djinn (or genie) as being not a jolly wish-granter but a being of a deeper darker entity. Enjoy.
And afterwards to drop in to see Stevie MacFarlane's piece entitled "Fly your Freak Flag".
In spanko fiction, that a spanking is non-consensual can add spice to the scene: which gives the author the choices of going back in time or of asking the reader to really, really suspend disbelief in order to enjoy one's latest tale.
The third way out is to go into the land of fantasy: if you create your own universe, then every law in it is at the dictate of the author. Creating a whole universe is a bit overwhelming, so we tend to give you insight into just a bit of one. One that caters to the plot needs. If we have a brand new "Department of Corporal Corrections" set up in down-town New York, we don't want to bore the reader with too much information about how it got built: just now that it is built, let us follow the adventures of various inmates as they go about their dealing beatings.
I have dabbled in fantasy - "The Gleam in Her Eye" uses eroticobots as a plot device to explore various aspects of the spanko psyche. ("What's an eroticobot, Dave?" I hear you call. It is a young lady dressed as a robot to make the tale work. Don't worry about it - it is all great fun (advt.) ).
I have just loaded on the free stories section a speculative work that takes the notion of the Djinn (or genie) as being not a jolly wish-granter but a being of a deeper darker entity. Enjoy.
And afterwards to drop in to see Stevie MacFarlane's piece entitled "Fly your Freak Flag".
Thursday, June 5, 2014
E is for Emotions
We spanking authors have more emotions to deal with than authors of virtually all other genres, for we usually get all the emotions you get in those other genres, plus the emotions that emerge from the act of giving or receiving a spank or two. To the romantic stirrings in a standard bodice ripper, we also have the added tingle of hero and heroine taking delight, or not, in having a smacked bottom added to the mix.
The first trap we fall into is trying to explain why spankers and spankees have the reactions they do. Particularly when our plot device is to awaken in the spankee and unexpected positive reaction to what most would expect to be extremely negative.
This is often the result of allowing the delight of fantasy over-rule what would happen in real life: spank an office worker and you are more likely, in real life to end up in court, not in a romantic embrace. But in the world of spanko fiction, the sting in the buttocks ignites an unexpected flame of passion - which is far more fun to write about, and read about, than an appearance in court to answer charges of assault and battery.
So what trap do we fall into? Spanko readers already know all about bottom burn being an aphrodisiac and non-spankos are not reading our works and, in any case, are never going to understand our equation.
There is no real need to give an sort of lengthy explanation - except as a linguistic exercise in trying to nail our experience in a way that, perhaps, gives some new insight into what happens to those who are not an exact match for our own traits.
But the biggest trap an author, any author and not just spanking authors, can fall into when deciding to explore the reactions to having one's bottom turned a delightful shade of crimson, is to tell rather than show.
Elsewhere we have seen that "Tom knew that Sheila liked him" is a tell and is neither satisfying nor titillating. It would be far better to have written ""Between classes, Sheila was always leaning on his locker when he'd go to open it. She'd roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her ass. And the next break, Sheila would be leaned there, again." (I cannot claim authorship of those words - they turn up in a creative writing essay on LitReactor).
But you can see the obvious improvement by going from tell to show.
When an unwilling victim turns to their shocked surprise into bed lust, we may want to take time out to resolve the unexpected (to the aforesaid unwilling victim) change in attitude towards a butt warming. The trick is to show - without being too clinical over bodily processes - rather than give a list of emotions.
We shall deal with clinical bodily processes some other time.
Meanwhile, I am sure that Etta Stark will have an "E" set up for your erudition.
The first trap we fall into is trying to explain why spankers and spankees have the reactions they do. Particularly when our plot device is to awaken in the spankee and unexpected positive reaction to what most would expect to be extremely negative.
This is often the result of allowing the delight of fantasy over-rule what would happen in real life: spank an office worker and you are more likely, in real life to end up in court, not in a romantic embrace. But in the world of spanko fiction, the sting in the buttocks ignites an unexpected flame of passion - which is far more fun to write about, and read about, than an appearance in court to answer charges of assault and battery.
So what trap do we fall into? Spanko readers already know all about bottom burn being an aphrodisiac and non-spankos are not reading our works and, in any case, are never going to understand our equation.
There is no real need to give an sort of lengthy explanation - except as a linguistic exercise in trying to nail our experience in a way that, perhaps, gives some new insight into what happens to those who are not an exact match for our own traits.
But the biggest trap an author, any author and not just spanking authors, can fall into when deciding to explore the reactions to having one's bottom turned a delightful shade of crimson, is to tell rather than show.
Elsewhere we have seen that "Tom knew that Sheila liked him" is a tell and is neither satisfying nor titillating. It would be far better to have written ""Between classes, Sheila was always leaning on his locker when he'd go to open it. She'd roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her ass. And the next break, Sheila would be leaned there, again." (I cannot claim authorship of those words - they turn up in a creative writing essay on LitReactor).
But you can see the obvious improvement by going from tell to show.
When an unwilling victim turns to their shocked surprise into bed lust, we may want to take time out to resolve the unexpected (to the aforesaid unwilling victim) change in attitude towards a butt warming. The trick is to show - without being too clinical over bodily processes - rather than give a list of emotions.
We shall deal with clinical bodily processes some other time.
Meanwhile, I am sure that Etta Stark will have an "E" set up for your erudition.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
D is for Dungeon
We spankos tend to stay out of dungeons: dark, dank places full of damp air and whips and chains as well, too boot, no doubt.
The unofficial scale of leaning towards the pain-pleasure conundrum goes: slap-and-tickle/spanking/bdsm/sad0-masichism. Most spankos are not sadists, but a lot of sadists do have a spanking streak in their make up, which confuses the hell out of everyone.
Whips and chains lie in the real of BDSM - a bit too severe for your average spanko and yet a bit too mild for even the mildest sadist.
But in fantasy, the spanko can enjoy reading or watching some bdsm activity: provided the action does not stray too far from slapping bottoms and it is clearly the portrayal of a fantasy (no matter how bizarre). On the other hand, I am led to believe that who have acquired bdsm tendencies don't only fantasize about such activity, they actively take part in it.
So, in real life we spankos tend to keep well away from dungeons. But in fiction? Well, here's a snippet from "Beloved Infidel":
Now I would like to point you to Dinah's blog: over there you wont believe what "D" she came up with...
The unofficial scale of leaning towards the pain-pleasure conundrum goes: slap-and-tickle/spanking/bdsm/sad0-masichism. Most spankos are not sadists, but a lot of sadists do have a spanking streak in their make up, which confuses the hell out of everyone.
Whips and chains lie in the real of BDSM - a bit too severe for your average spanko and yet a bit too mild for even the mildest sadist.
But in fantasy, the spanko can enjoy reading or watching some bdsm activity: provided the action does not stray too far from slapping bottoms and it is clearly the portrayal of a fantasy (no matter how bizarre). On the other hand, I am led to believe that who have acquired bdsm tendencies don't only fantasize about such activity, they actively take part in it.
So, in real life we spankos tend to keep well away from dungeons. But in fiction? Well, here's a snippet from "Beloved Infidel":
Sandra knew along that this was not going to be good. She had not dreamed that it was going to be so bad. Malak tried to hold back a tear of rage. That Abid! One day, may it please Allah, that lad was going to learn what it meant to break a vow of silence.“Come. The dungeon awaits …” He led them downstairs to learn the exact nature of their fate.
So - on second thoughts, dungeons whips and canes are not off limits, after all. Erm... provided they are only pretend.The lamps high above cast dark shadows on their faces.Sandra and Malak had taken off their robes, and now faced each other. A trestle stood between them, and they stood with legs wide apart, their ankles tied to its feet. Their arms stretch above them, held in manacles which were chained to the ceiling. Their bodies glistened in the chilled glow of fear. They stared steadfastly into each other’s eyes.Maudad picked up a large packing strap, and passed it around both their waists. As he tightened one end through the buckle, the two women were pulled together, making their backs arch, and their buttocks move outwards to be more prominent targets for him. Sandra was just slightly taller than Malak and her pale pink breasts rode up over Malak’s smaller, but firmer, dark brown ones. To avoid standing nose to nose, each turned their head slightly, to be cheek to cheek.“The idea back then,” remarked Maudad “Was that each other’s shoulders could be used to muffle screams. I don’t expect you to have to do that. The fifty you will each get will not break the skin. But tied like this, you will each get to feel the other’s pain as well as your own.”He paced around, eying them up and down, checking that they were quite secure. He had not really planned it, but the pressure of the strap pulling them together had made it that they both now stood on tiptoe. That was a nice touch.“The household cannot afford to lose both its number one wife and the mother of the first born at the same time. And I do not wish to lose either of you. Therefore, I will punish you, and that is the end of the matter. The end. Is that clear?”They both nodded. “Yes master.”Maudad went into the shadow, and returned with a whip somewhat longer than the one that Feren used on the servants and concubines. Sandra felt the fear tightly grip her stomach...
Now I would like to point you to Dinah's blog: over there you wont believe what "D" she came up with...
Monday, June 2, 2014
C is for Crimson
One of the delights of being a spanko is observing the change of color as a pair of buttocks get thoroughly slapped, belted, paddled, caned or subjected to whatever the weapon of choice is in use in the media of choice we are using. Real life being best, but written works and movies have their role to play as well.
One of the problems of being a spanko author is finding a palette of colors that delight the reader while accurately spelling out the action unfolding before us. Particularly when we have already written fifty or more tales: you might get away with fifty shades of gray if you are vanilla pretending to be a spanko, but a dyed in the wool spanko sure needs more than fifty shades of pink to cover the same ground.
Basically - after describing the hue of the unspanked butt - you get shades of pink, red, crimson, maroon and purple. Now - I cannot speak for you - but buttocks spanked purple are not a turn on for the observer: and I suspect that most spankees balk at a beating so thorough they have purple bottoms. Maroon also has a lot of blue in it: I suppose including that in your palette depends largely on the target audience.
So let us work with pink, red and crimson. (There are other shades you may contemplate but describing the first slap producing a "bittersweet shimmer" may be technically perfect, but is more likely to confuse the average reader than be a turn on).
There are many adjectives to add to our colors: but again, most are not very useful: "salmon pink" and "firebox red" have their uses: but elsewhere I would opine, not in a bedtime reading book.
The two variations that work are "light" and "dark" - as in a light pink blush (for the gentile) through to a dark crimson stripe (for the more robust).
That gives us a palette of just nine or so shades. Is that enough?
Well, you will have already learned that they are very few acceptable terms for the hindquarters themselves, and we learn early to cycle through them to achieve the necessary freshness in our writing. We could use the old term "nates" for buttocks - but may invoke a hoot of derision for trawling up such a word. Even derriere is more likely to invoke a smirk than the empathy we seek. We have a very limited repertoire of words to cover the average spanked ass: we need not unduly fear any restriction in the colors we use to describe the effects of their chastisement..
Taking our victim's bottom through stages of pink, red and crimson works very adequately for those who like the climbing of intensity. And for the pale moons to receive instant crimson stripes from a firmly swung crop meets the need of those at the other end of the intensity scale.
I would suggest that the real aim of any spanking scene is to turn the bottom at hand into some shade of crimson. Anything less would be a missed opportunity. Anything more severe would be a tad too savage.
Of course, as they used to say in car adverts, your mileage may vary and, for your readers, making a swipe of a belt enhance your heroine's nates with a deep shade of bittersweet-shimmer may be perfection incarnate. It is the infinite variety that makes our universe such a delight to live in.
Meanwhile, over at Celeste Jones' Blog, I suspect you might find a more eclectic choice for the letter "C"...
And as a postscript to yesterday's post on the history of the birch rod, a correspondent sent me this link with the comment "your explanation now makes more sense of what was going on back then".
One of the problems of being a spanko author is finding a palette of colors that delight the reader while accurately spelling out the action unfolding before us. Particularly when we have already written fifty or more tales: you might get away with fifty shades of gray if you are vanilla pretending to be a spanko, but a dyed in the wool spanko sure needs more than fifty shades of pink to cover the same ground.
Basically - after describing the hue of the unspanked butt - you get shades of pink, red, crimson, maroon and purple. Now - I cannot speak for you - but buttocks spanked purple are not a turn on for the observer: and I suspect that most spankees balk at a beating so thorough they have purple bottoms. Maroon also has a lot of blue in it: I suppose including that in your palette depends largely on the target audience.
So let us work with pink, red and crimson. (There are other shades you may contemplate but describing the first slap producing a "bittersweet shimmer" may be technically perfect, but is more likely to confuse the average reader than be a turn on).
There are many adjectives to add to our colors: but again, most are not very useful: "salmon pink" and "firebox red" have their uses: but elsewhere I would opine, not in a bedtime reading book.
The two variations that work are "light" and "dark" - as in a light pink blush (for the gentile) through to a dark crimson stripe (for the more robust).
That gives us a palette of just nine or so shades. Is that enough?
Well, you will have already learned that they are very few acceptable terms for the hindquarters themselves, and we learn early to cycle through them to achieve the necessary freshness in our writing. We could use the old term "nates" for buttocks - but may invoke a hoot of derision for trawling up such a word. Even derriere is more likely to invoke a smirk than the empathy we seek. We have a very limited repertoire of words to cover the average spanked ass: we need not unduly fear any restriction in the colors we use to describe the effects of their chastisement..
Taking our victim's bottom through stages of pink, red and crimson works very adequately for those who like the climbing of intensity. And for the pale moons to receive instant crimson stripes from a firmly swung crop meets the need of those at the other end of the intensity scale.
I would suggest that the real aim of any spanking scene is to turn the bottom at hand into some shade of crimson. Anything less would be a missed opportunity. Anything more severe would be a tad too savage.
Of course, as they used to say in car adverts, your mileage may vary and, for your readers, making a swipe of a belt enhance your heroine's nates with a deep shade of bittersweet-shimmer may be perfection incarnate. It is the infinite variety that makes our universe such a delight to live in.
Meanwhile, over at Celeste Jones' Blog, I suspect you might find a more eclectic choice for the letter "C"...
And as a postscript to yesterday's post on the history of the birch rod, a correspondent sent me this link with the comment "your explanation now makes more sense of what was going on back then".
B is for Birch
The birch-rod - villain at the center of a myriad of Victorian school day classics - has a curious history.
In medieval times, England's only export of note was Walnuts. And canny farmers noted that Walnut trees that were close to birch trees would, from high wind interaction, get their bark scarred and thickened by being flayed from inter-tree territorial warfare. And as a direct consequence, yield a bigger crop than those sheltered from such assaults.
The earliest bunch of birch twigs were assembled to beat up on sapling walnut trees, to make them bigger and stronger. It is reported that a piece of doggerel from those days read "A woman, a dog, a walnut tree, the more you beat them, the better they be." (Hey don't shoot the messenger - I am simply reporting what I read.)
The move from using a birch rod from its agricultural role to a means of discipline was inevitable. And in its early years, it was used as a very formidable flogging implement - designed to break the skin, draw blood and break the spirit the victim. Doctor Arnold would flog schoolboys, not spank them. They understood clearly the difference between the two.
Meanwhile, after the pendulum swung away from the public whippings of the 1700's, the rights for magistrates to order corporal punishment for sundry offenses had virtually disappeared by 1840. And then began the very odd, but widespread practice of them sentencing people to very, very short stays in prison.
Up until 1967, visiting magistrates to Prisons (and before then, the by-then defunct Work-houses) could sentence any inmate to a birching for breaches of prison discipline. So from about 1850 to 1920, children aged 10-14 were routinely sentenced to 7 days "Hard Labor" for theft and the like. A visiting magistrate would then order the miscreant to the beating that the local magistrate could not order directly. A sentence of 14 days hard labor was seen as a request for two consecutive good hidings to be delivered, one week apart. The letter of the law was met, but the correct punishment was eventually delivered.
For adults, the pain of receiving such a punishment was much, much harsher. The birches were longer and heavier, and used with viscous efficiency. To allow for this, short sentences of adults tended to be in monthly increments up to three months. Serious prison terms started at 18 months: those signficantly less than that was the nod that additional action should be taken. The de facto "maximum" short term sentence of three months hard labor was taken to suggest three birchings were merited, with at least a month of recovery between each of them.
The last female prisoner to be birched under the UK penal system was an inmate of Holloway Prison, and that took place in 1962. Which is quite recent, really, for a punishment not available for use on civilians since 1840.
And over at Kira Barcelo's blog, the B of the day is for Bohannon.
In medieval times, England's only export of note was Walnuts. And canny farmers noted that Walnut trees that were close to birch trees would, from high wind interaction, get their bark scarred and thickened by being flayed from inter-tree territorial warfare. And as a direct consequence, yield a bigger crop than those sheltered from such assaults.
The earliest bunch of birch twigs were assembled to beat up on sapling walnut trees, to make them bigger and stronger. It is reported that a piece of doggerel from those days read "A woman, a dog, a walnut tree, the more you beat them, the better they be." (Hey don't shoot the messenger - I am simply reporting what I read.)
The move from using a birch rod from its agricultural role to a means of discipline was inevitable. And in its early years, it was used as a very formidable flogging implement - designed to break the skin, draw blood and break the spirit the victim. Doctor Arnold would flog schoolboys, not spank them. They understood clearly the difference between the two.
Meanwhile, after the pendulum swung away from the public whippings of the 1700's, the rights for magistrates to order corporal punishment for sundry offenses had virtually disappeared by 1840. And then began the very odd, but widespread practice of them sentencing people to very, very short stays in prison.
Up until 1967, visiting magistrates to Prisons (and before then, the by-then defunct Work-houses) could sentence any inmate to a birching for breaches of prison discipline. So from about 1850 to 1920, children aged 10-14 were routinely sentenced to 7 days "Hard Labor" for theft and the like. A visiting magistrate would then order the miscreant to the beating that the local magistrate could not order directly. A sentence of 14 days hard labor was seen as a request for two consecutive good hidings to be delivered, one week apart. The letter of the law was met, but the correct punishment was eventually delivered.
For adults, the pain of receiving such a punishment was much, much harsher. The birches were longer and heavier, and used with viscous efficiency. To allow for this, short sentences of adults tended to be in monthly increments up to three months. Serious prison terms started at 18 months: those signficantly less than that was the nod that additional action should be taken. The de facto "maximum" short term sentence of three months hard labor was taken to suggest three birchings were merited, with at least a month of recovery between each of them.
The last female prisoner to be birched under the UK penal system was an inmate of Holloway Prison, and that took place in 1962. Which is quite recent, really, for a punishment not available for use on civilians since 1840.
And over at Kira Barcelo's blog, the B of the day is for Bohannon.
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