By
Sharon Lynn Fisher (Guest Blogger)
I
never set out to write an erotica collection. I was supposed to be
working on my second sci-fi romance, but I’d reached that point
about halfway through when things suddenly get real. When the
honeymoon period has ended, and you’re not sure you and that book
have what it takes to go the distance. So basically I was trying to
escape, and I wrote a scene that became the second chapter of “The
Garden Rules,” the first erotic bedtime story in Before She
Wakes.
At
the time I had no expectations. I didn’t even know if what I was
writing was any good. I showed it to some trusted readers and got
some encouragement, and months later I decided to finish that first
story. I shared it with my agent, and with additional encouragement
from her, I wrote a second one. The original plan was to indie
publish, and we did try that with the first two. But I just didn’t
have time for the kind of promo you have to do as an indie author,
and also I wasn’t sure about the market for individual erotic short
stories. In the end, we sold a collection of six stories to Penguin
Random House, for their Loveswept imprint.
What
I’m really here to talk about, though, is how these stories were
different from anything I’ve ever written. As a sci-fi romance
author, I’d written plenty of sex. But when I wrote that first
scene of “The Garden Rules,” I locked my inner critic in the
basement. At the time, I had no idea I’d end up pitching it to a
traditional publisher, so I wrote what I wanted and let the chips
fall where they might.
By
the time I started the third story, I’d taped a note to my desk
that said, “Remember to have fun.” Every time I started to worry
about whether the story was working, I asked myself, what’s the
most fun I could have with this story right now? And if what came to
me was something that caused my inner critic to pop out and say, “oh
no you don’t,” I just crammed her back in the basement and did it
anyway. Every time her voice drifted up, warning me something was too
weird or over-the-top, I knew I was on the right track.
The
result was stuff like a herd of randy fauns, a purple fairy with an
oversized phallus, steampunk sex toys, dragon shifters getting it on
in the clouds, and a pair of French monarchs licking confections off
court visitors. It’s resulted in Goodreads reviews with comments
like “If you like fairy tales, keep your mind open, and just go
with the flow!” And it was, hands-down, the most fun I ever had
writing ANYTHING.
By the way, I'm giving away a free copy of the book to one person who comments. Tell me what you think about my excerpt, or the concept of erotic fairy tales in general. I'll randomly select one person as my winner. Don't forget to include your email address so I can find you if you win!
Blurb
You’ve
never read bedtime stories like these. RITA Award finalist Sharon
Lynn Fisher blends fantasy, science fiction, and dark romance in
these bold tales of seduction and sensual awakening.
The
Dragonmaid’s Secret
On
the king’s orders, a mercenary has come to ransack the village of
Roussillon. But when he confronts the town’s defender, the
dragonmaid Isabeau, he is seized by the call to mate—for this rogue
is, in fact, a dragon-shifter.
Raven
Takes A Pearl
Pearl
is a captive of Master Raven—part man, part crow, part machine. And
as she submits to the curious probing of the dark-winged inventor,
Pearl discovers that her body contains mysteries even she never
dreamed it possessed.
The
Garden Rules
After
swallowing an acorn sweetmeat, Sylva is transported to a fantastical
forest and begins training as a nymph at the behest of her faun
master. But before she earns the right to please him, she must
complete three tantalizing trials.
The
Kelpie’s Prize
Dragged
beneath a fairy pool by a mechanical horse, Vivi finds herself held
by an alchemist claiming to be Merlin himself. Now, to escape an
ancient curse, she must play the wanton seductress—and pray he
releases her in more ways than one.
Willa
And The Wisp
In
the bayou that covers the long-ago flooded city of New Orleans, Willa
uses light to keep her safe from the creepers. She never expected
that light to take the form of a brightly glowing man—a lover who
ignites a flame that just may thaw her frigid grip on self reliance.
The
Dragonfly Prince
In
post-apocalyptic Ireland, a virgin gives her hand in marriage to
broker peace with a genetically modified race. But when a human rival
challenges the dark prince’s claim, the bride chooses the field of
contest: her own body.
Excerpt
This
scene is from “The Dragonfly Prince.” It’s about a young woman
in post-apocalyptic Ireland who gives herself in marriage to keep the
peace with a clan of genetically modified humans who call themselves
the Tuatha De Danann. What she doesn’t know is that a man she has
always considered her stepbrother is in love with her and wants to
stop the wedding. When her betrothed walks in on a forbidden kiss,
awkwardness ensues. After the stepbrother is ordered out, the bride
and bridegroom have their first conversation.
Dayne’s
countenance is so smoky and dark that it is hard to imagine what he’s
thinking. His arms are folded, and the bunching of shoulder and chest
muscles reminds me how powerful he is. My heart races, and I struggle
to find my voice. But he doesn’t speak, so I must.
“I
apologize. Jamie’s behavior was wrong and...unexpected.”
Dayne
lifts a dark eyebrow. “You were disgusted by it? It didn’t appear
so to me.”
My
already hot skin saves me from displaying the shame I feel. “I was
surprised. And I...” On an impulse, I raise my chin to better meet
the challenge in his gaze. Instinct is warning me I can’t win a
game of cat-and-mouse with this man. “I was confused. We grew up
together, and I’ve always thought of him as my brother. I didn’t
know that he felt differently.”
“And
now that you do?”
I
drop my hands to my sides and take a slow breath, knowing how
important my answer is. “Now that I do, I understand why he was so
violently opposed to this marriage. And I regret that I’ve hurt him
so deeply.”
I
know I haven’t answered the question he’s really asking, but he
seems to accept it anyway. He strides to the window beside the bed,
and I find my eyes following the crimson wings as he moves. Their
texture makes them appear to glisten, and I wonder whether they’re
as fragile as they look. I wonder whether they’re capable of
flight. My da says that the biological mechanics are all wrong. That
the winged transgenics were a failed experiment. But they proved more
resilient than most of humanity. And though his wings may serve no
practical purpose, it’s impossible not to appreciate their
delicate-veined beauty.
“Has
the conflict been resolved?” I ask, a tremor in my voice.
“No,”
he replies. “But my father will try to distract them until the
danger passes. There would have been games after the wedding.
Contests of strength. He’s trying to interest them in those.”
“I
don’t understand what happened. Have I done something wrong?”
He
turns from the window. “Yes. But it wasn’t your fault. It was an
oversight of my father’s, when he arranged the ceremony with your
father.”
I
lift my eyebrows, waiting for the rest of it.
“You
should never have appeared in public at this time of your cycle. A
Tuatha woman wouldn’t do such a thing unless she wanted attention
from potential mates.”
I
stare at him, keenly aware my color is rising again. My betrothed,
whom I’ve just met, is talking about my fertility—and he seems to
know more about it than I do.
Buy
LInks
About
Sharon
An
RWA
RITA
Award
finalist
and
a
three-time
Golden
Heart
Award
finalist,
Sharon
Lynn
Fisher
(www.sharonlynnfisher.com)
writes
stories
for
the
geeky
at
heart—meaty
mash-ups
of
sci-fi,
fantasy,
suspense,
and
romance,
with
no
apology
for
the
latter.
She
lives
where
it
rains
nine
months
of
the
year,
and
she
has
a
strange
obsession
with
gingers
(down
to
her
freaky
orange
cat).
Sharon’s
works include:
Ghost
Planet
The
Ophelia Prophecy
Echo
8
Before
She Wakes
