But the bane of this process?  The space right in front this picture window. I swear it’s messing up the feng shui of the room almost as badly as the upright piano off to its left.  The piano, I can do nothing about. My spouse wants to keep it, a family heirloom, and to say he’s been giving and kind about the books about the house would be a gross understatment on my part. Sometimes, one must give back in equal gesture.

click for enlarged image

So, the window.  I’ve decided I want to put a work table there to provide a place to sort books, keep research files (in piles, most likely. LOL!), and house other in-progress sundries.  If I could squeeze some small bookcases into the setup, all the better. I think I’d like to keep its length to equal the broad span of the picture window because of surrounding furniture, but everywhere I look for possibilities, I’m underwhelmed.  A prime example: IKEA work tables.

I suppose I have images of finely constructed home libraries in my head — you know, the kind you’d find in books about the subject — and I’m not really that way. I’m far too practical and price-conscious.  But I’m willing to entertain ideas, so let me put it to you: What would you do? Have you seen any interesting work tables in your home design adventures?

I don’t have space measurements at this time (I’m on the road, traveling), but I will when I return home. The only restrictions I have are no dark woods, white, or all-metal tables. The room’s woods tend towards maple in hue.

So, ideas?

(P.S. I’ll provide a pictoral tour of my library once the reorg is finished.

A decade previous to this date, I embarked on writing short erotic fiction. Dozens of my stories appeared in major anthologies from Cleis Press, Alyson Books, the now-defunct Venus Book Club, Berkley Heat, and more. I celebrated every by-line and cherished every opportunity. But something was missing. I was one of those authors that the larger mainstream publishing world overlooked. I was an early blogger and diarist about sex and my sex life, yet no book deal came my way. I had a couple of novels in the can yet securing an agent was a multi-year exercise in futility. I watched the romance market embrace a certain level of eroticism in their publishing lines… but it did not speak to me in a way that was authentic to my experience or even paralleled the intensity of erotic writing I had done. Let me tell you, I felt left out in the cold.

Until Lori Perkins blew me away by inviting me to submit Ravenous Romance. She remembered my writing and publishing creds — something every writer prays for — and just when I questioned whether to continue on, she gave me the very outlet I needed to journey on. I had a whole new reason to celebrate and cherish opportunity. Since then, Lori and her partners have brought two of my novels into e-print. They’ve asked for several more, including one that is shaping up to be an opus of a lifetime. And, most soulful to me, they’ve allowed me to write from the erotic edge. Not once have they asked me to softball my erotic portrayals.

Today, all of us Ravenous Romance authors are celebrating our good fortune. We’re ecstatic. And our publisher is celebrating, too, by offering all full-length ebooks to the reading public for a mere .99 cents. Go, check it out, and if you’re fond of my writing, look in the Wicked Pleasures section for more kinky fiction.

Happy anniversary, Ravenous Romance!

Its erotica section was impressive. Two or three bookcases stocked full of recent releases and a smattering of older, used books from the explosive publishing that came with the sexual revolution of the late 60s and early 70s towered over me, commanding my time and attention. I’m pretty selective these days in choosing books to flesh out my own library (over a thousand volumes these days) and settled on Samuel Delany’s highly transgressive novel, Hogg, and Bruno Phillips’ The Main Point: The Life and Work of a Porno Film Maker, doubting that I’d see that book again anytime soon.

But selectivity didn’t keep me from further shopping. I’ve learned that one way independent bookstores distinguish themselves is through their “peripherals” — stationery, journals, postcards, book-related gifts, swag – and Powells was no exception. Except that its selection was exceptional. And I stumbled over several gems, one of which was a manga-inspired journal.

When it first caught my eye, I thought it’d make a great gift for my daughter. Until I saw its characters were entwined in a major hot and heavy hookup. Whoa! Fanning myself, I checked out who produced the dang thing because I hadn’t seen the likes of it before. Near the barcode were the words “JC de Castelbajac (atomic maison) and POPTERIE. A little web-searching revealed it was a collaboration between a European fashion designer and a French stationery company.

So that’s whythe characters were dressed in (and undressing from) busy attire reminiscent of Toile de Jouy which, ironically, means fabric of joy!

Despite Google translations, the dialog remains cryptic to me – a blend of colloquialisms and vague non sequiturs? Only two word balloons were easy to contextualize.

What really got me was this one, hot panel. Oh yeah, the deal was sealed. I was gonna buy this journal and no one could stop me. No way, no how.

That the last panel left me dangling made me panting all the more – man, retail therapy at its best!