Toot Toot!

TootToot

How about some more beans, Mr. Taggert?

“I’d say you boys have had enough!”

 

So apparently the old man is farting again.

It’s crazy that something which embarrassed me almost to tears when I was a teenager is now something I was praying for, but there you are.

So now he goes on a clear diet, which means water, tea, jello, broth…you know. Things you can see through. If that goes well, then he’ll graduate to soft foods like oatmeal and scrambled eggs. And hopefully be released before Christmas, before he drives the entire medical staff crazy.

My brother is making noise about having him stay at my brother’s place. Which is fine. But I wouldn’t be willing to bet a nickel that it actually happens. My dad is stubborn to the point of parody. So he’ll string Mike along, and then insist on staying at his own house, no matter how much it drives Mike crazy.

In other news, I’ve had a pretty good run on Smashwords over the last few days. But not many sales from the latest anthology I put out with four other authors. So if you like lesbian erotica, here’s your chance!

No Boys Allowed

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/768327

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Could Be Worse

121617

Sexy, but not really happy. Like me right now.

So I drove home today to see my dad after his surgery.

Now, understand. The old man is a naturally cantankerous sort. The kind of guy who puts the “Grumpy Old Kraut” in “Grumpy Old Kraut.”

My family is German, BTW, so I’m allowed to say things like Grumpy Old Kraut.

To my surprise, he was fairly mellow, considering he’s had 15 inches of his small intestine removed the other day. He actually called me by name, which if you knew the man, would show that he was either A) terrified by his own mortality or B) Drunk.

I am siding on option A

I also got to see the scar, which was surprisingly small. Thank God.

They’re supposed to let him out as soon as he can pass gas. As far as I understand it, being able to fart means that the intestines are up to snuff again. Then they’ll let him eat and go home, hopefully sending along enough pain pills and warnings so he doesn’t do anything stupid like try to bench-press a car.

After I left the hospital I took my mom shopping (always an adventure) and visited various brothers, nieces, nephews, and sisters-in-law. On the way home I outlined a new erotica story, which will combine aliens, lesbians, space-travel, and body transformation.

That’s all for now.

Peace out.

Alana

Good News, Bad News, Good News

No Boys Allowed

OK, first the good news:

The third anthology from the “Bad Girls of Erotica” is now up. As you can see in the awesome artwork above, it features stories by myself, Laura Lovecraft, Ashley Berry, Alexa Nichols, and Veronica Sloan. So for the low low price of $6.99, you can get five lesbian erotica stories.

That being said, it’s kind of hard for me to get excited by this. You see, my father went into the hospital yesterday. What had started as a routine check-up morphed into abdominal, resulting in a removal of about a foot and a half of his small intestine.

Now, the second bit of good news. Everything SEEMS to be all right. The cancer that was the reason for the surgery does not seem to have spread. The old man is in relatively good spirits (or as good as you can be once you’ve had a good chunk of your guts removed) and my brothers are keeping a close eye on him to make sure he doesn’t leave the hospital until he can take care of himself.

I will be driving down to see him over the weekend. We were never what you would call close. I was always the weird child who had absolutely no interest in care or greasy machinery or electronics; the one who always had her nose stuck in a book, who worked thirty-hour weeks in high school just to be able to afford college and escape my hometown.

But, still. He’s my dad, you know? And I can’t imagine a world without him. He taught me how to grill and to play catch and to drive and introduced me to Monty Python.

He never stops being your dad.

 

Kill it With Fire!

ALANA CHURCH - Love Hippie Style.jpg

 

Books can be strange things. Sometimes you love them and you sit at the computer from dawn to dusk, falling in love with the characters, the storyline, and everything else. Even the parts which are frustrating are fun due to the sense of satisfaction when everything falls into place. you know, somewhere deep inside you, that this good.

Love, Hippie Style,” is not one of those stories.

I mean, it doesn’t suck. It’s a perfectly acceptable erotica story, about a woman who is fighting to establish her own credentials in the corporate world and who meets a free-spirited musician in the 1960s.

Yeah, I know. The plot is so thin it’s practically a trope. The Ice Queen meets the Artist, and learns to Relax.

The story first started as a spoof on a phrase from South Park, where Cartman is always screaming “Screw You, Hippie!” at people he hates. Which is pretty much everyone.

“Screw You, Hippie!” was going to be my title, and originally, my female protagonist was going to be a lot less sympathetic. But I found myself sympathizing with Jacqueline more and more as the story went on. But it was HARD. I had to practically force myself back to the story. I found myself making typo after typo, as if even my own fingers didn’t want to write it.

So I finally finished it and published it today. It’s been on my plate as an idea for two years. But since it has none of the things which have become my go-to selling points over the last few years (taboo and fantasy, especially dwelling on gods, goddesses, and nature spirits) I expect it to sell like week-old squid.

Oh, well. At least it’s done. On to the next story, which I am LOVING. “Aphrodite’s Daughter” has a conversation between The Greek Goddess of Love and Desire and her estranged son, Deimos, which can only be described as psychotic mixed with schizophrenic.

Share and enjoy,

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/766569

AlanA

Four Day Weekend!

WhooHoo!

Whoo Hoo!

Been a good 24 hours here at the Church of Erotica.

First, after three excruciating losses in a row, culminating in an absolute dick-punch of a loss to Maryland, my University of Illinois Fighting Illini finally managed to win a basketball game against Austin Peay.

(“Let’s Go Peay!”)

(Snicker)

Today at work I had one turn-up go absolutely south (for some reason, the people who are completely revamping their internal telecom network didn’t seem to think it was worth their time to have their network engineer on the call) but another one completed, so, to paraphrase Meat Loaf, “One out of Two Ain’t Bad.”

Then home again, (for a day-day weekend, wooo!) where I submitted my portion of the latest anthology by The Bad Girls of Erotica. This one is called “No Boys Allowed,” and is chock-full of lesbian erotica. My contribution is titled “My Neighbor’s a Porn Star!” It follows the story of a single woman who discovers that her neighbor….

Wait for it….

Is a porn star!

WHOA

And since she has long wondered about what it might be like to be with another woman, Barbara and her porn-star neighbor (Heather) hook up, to the satisfaction of both.

I rally like this story. It doesn’t flow too fast, and gives both characters a chance to know each other before the clothes come flying off.

I just realized it’s been a few days since I plugged one of my own books. So I might as well do it now.

The Witch's Demon

She’ll CUT yo ass

“The Witches Demon” is the final installment in my “Coven Chronicles” quartet (unless you want to count the prequel, “Lord of the Forest,” in which OH GOD WHY AM I CONFUSING THE SUBJECT OK I’LL STOP NOW.)

ANYWAY, “The Witch’s Demon” is the end of the quartet. After three books of sex, bashing of religion, talk about the role of paganism in society, sex, new characters, sex, baseball, and even more sex, we finally reach our conclusion.

To be honest, i think it holds up pretty well. The final confrontation between the witches and the forces of evil is believable, and the denouement is not too drawn out. We have our happily ever after, but still leave room for more stories to come. And since the Chamberlain Coven has walk-on roles in a a couple of my other books, that’s no bad thing.

In case you want to buy the entire anthology, here’s a link. No pressure.

Have a great weekend,

Alana

Killing My Soul, Slowly

Office Space

So, I work for a telecom company.

Which is mostly OK. The company is a good one, based in downtown Chicago. The perks are good, the pay is OK, the people are mostly all right.

Mostly.

So, right before I was set to leave today, one of my coworkers comes to me. “Alana, *stupid useless employee who should have been fired six months ago* needs your help.”

So I go over to her. Hooray for the joys of being a supervisor. *SUEWSHBFSMA* had been on a conference call for FORTY-FIVE minutes without one of the other parties joining. And she apparently would have been happy with that situation for the rest of the day. Because she sure as hell wasn’t making an effort to get the other party on the call.

So I ended up staying at work for an extra hour, while I tracked down the people who should have been on the call, babysat her, showed her what she did wrong on her order, gave her verbatim instructions on how she should note her order and work it going forward, who she should follow up with tomorrow, and basically did her job for her.

I will not be paid overtime for this, of course.

And she has the nerve to complain to me because apparently I wasn’t nice enough to her. If she had done her job right in the first place, rather than get hired simply because she once worked at AT&T, maybe she wouldn’t be a dead weight around the necks of everyone else in our department.

Sigh.

So I missed my train, and the train after my train, and the train after that was late, so I stood in the freezing cold for half an hour, and just got home about thirty minutes ago.

People suck.

No time for writing in “Aphrodite’s Daughter” tonight, though I did have some good ideas when I woke up this morning, which ended up getting me all hot and bothered. Hopefully I can remember them over the weekend when i finally have some time to write.

Later,

Alana

The Work Is Its Own Reward

Short post today. I had my company Christmas party on Friday, where I actually won a raffle (first time in 15 years)! So I have a $50 Amazon gift card to spend on sweet, sweet porn. Or maybe something else, who knows.

The rest of the weekend has been spent writing. For the curious, I am working on the sequel to my book, “Aphrodite’s Lover.” The title of this book is “Aphrodite’s Daughter.”

In the first book, our main character is Phaedra, who, through a series of events too tangled to easily explain, ends up with the spirit of the goddess Aphrodite in her head.

The second (and final) book will tell her story, as well as that of her husband and her daughter. Aphrodite intends her worship to be brought back. But there are forces which would like to make sure that never happens. Phaedra’s daughter Titania will slowly become the main focus as the book goes on. And I am LOVING a new character I am bringing in. Rupert is an English student who is thrown together with Titania, and he has the kind of sarcastic, take-no-prisoners sense of humor which I absolutely adore.

I’ll try to keep you posted. I am about 5K words in. I expect the story to be at least 20K.

After that, it’s going to be another “Polly Prude” short story, and then another major project, tentatively titled “Sexually Transmitted Desire.” This is a combination of alien invasion and mind-control, and it is WEIRD.

Peace out.

Alana

 

 

Betrayal

Short post tonight. I try to keep my “real” life and my online persona separate. But sometimes, it is really hard. Like tonight.

I feel like such a damn idiot.

A few weeks ago, I met someone. And we seemed to click. There seemed to be a connection. And I ignored the warning signs. Hell. I was born in the Nixon administration and haven’t been in a serious relationship in years. What do I know about how things work these days?

So I let myself believe. And tonight it all turned into shit, with me driving home, cursing myself for a fool.

It isn’t just the money. Though that hurts. It’s the way I LET myself get scammed. For the past few days I was telling myself that it was too good to be true. Guess what. It was!

I’m such a fucking idiot.

Peace out.

Alana

Religion, Politics, and the Great Pumpkin

GreatPumpkin

I found myself thinking about religion today.

While I was home for Thanksgiving, I watched TV with my mom. Which is, to begin with, a challenging exercise, since she feels compelled to comment on everything on the screen. But my sister-in-law had put on a DVD of Charlie Brown specials, and since we all love Charlie Brown, it was fine. The second show that came on was “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” You know how it goes. Lucy is mean, Charlie Brown gets a bag full of rocks when he goes out trick-or-treating. Snoopy dreams of being a WWI flying ace. My mother dances along with Snoopy, because she loves seeing him happy.

And Linus spends all night in a pumpkin patch, waiting for the Great Pumpkin to show up and give him a bag full of toys. Lucy finally has to drag him home in the middle of the night. But at the end of the show, he is still ranting to Charlie Brown about how NEXT YEAR the Great Pumpkin will show up, and they’ll all be SORRY THEY DOUBTED HIM, just like the fundamentalist ministers who insist that Jesus will be coming back to smite us all.

Charles Schulz, the creator of “Peanuts,” was a deeply religious man. But I think he was, in his own way, poking fun at religion, and the dangers of taking it too literally.

I have a serious problem with religion, which is expressed quite often in my writing. In fact, my first novel, “The Guardians of Heklos,” comes very close to being little more than a primal scream against the entire Judeo-Christian ethos. By the time I got to some of my other books, I had toned it down a bit.

Which brings me to today’s book, “The Witch’s Graduation.”

The Witch's Graduation

Hey there.

The first two installments of this series were about witches, taboo relationships, and the nature of power. But this chapter delves fairly deeply, and at times unpleasantly, into the dangers of religious fundamentalism. One of our new characters, Steven Johnson, is on the run from his foster-father. He has been beaten and abused until he seems to be on the verge of breaking down.

By chance, he is taken in by the Chamberlains. And under their care, he begins to reclaim his lost self. The graduation in the title refers to both John and Susanna’s graduation from high school, and Steven’s “graduation” to a full member of the coven, as it has been discovered that he is that rarest of things, a man of power (just like John.)

I really enjoyed writing this book. There is always the danger, as a writer, of being lazy and only giving the reader what they want. I call this the “Terry Brooks” syndrome. TB was the first writer to really cash in on the mania for fantasy after “The Lord of the Rings” became so popular in the sixties. His first books were little more than thinly-veiled ripoffs of LOTR. Hell, one of his characters NAMES was stolen from LOTR.

But anyway, this book challenged me. And hopefully others, as well. Here’s a link if you’re interested.

http://www.carnal-pleasures.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=134_212&products_id=1036

 

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

So, I went home for Thanksgiving.

So…yay?

Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. I just love them a lot more when there is some distance between us.

217 miles feels jusssst about right.

The thing is, for nearly twenty years I was the only member of my immediate family who didn’t live in the same town as everyone else. My folks moved to a small town in downstate Illinois when I was about 4 years old. They still live there. So do three out of my four brothers. So when I go home, there is always this vague pressure that I would be making things a lot easier on everyone if I moved back down there, too.

In the words of my oldest brother, “That’s ‘no’ for a thousand, Alex.”

But i had a good time. I got to see my parents, my nieces and nephew, exchange gossip with my sisters-in-law, eat my father’s deep-fried turkey and my mother’s  green bean casserole.

Then I drove back home, where I could sleep in my own bed.

Now, to start fulfilling my promise, is a short blurb about one of my books. To continue the traditions started back in February, i am doing the second book in my “Coven Chronicles” series, “The Witch’s Cousins.”

The Witch's Cousins

The first book had John Chamberlain, for reasons that boiled down to ‘magic,’ bedding his twin sister and his mother. In this book, he has to sleep with his cousins, Agatha and Hilda.

But we also get new characters in the story. These, in my mind, really made the story take off. I think it was on the verge of becoming your typical harem fantasy, where our male protagonist, virile and impossibly well-endowed, surrounds himself with a bevy of adoring women, none of whom seem to have a problem sharing him with the rest.

Well, screw that. The Chamberlain women are strong-willed. And when john makes the mistake of suggesting they all move in to make things easier for him, they cut him off at the knees.

Enter Steven Johnson and Calvin Grant. They broaden the story, give it scope, and make it about more than just sex. There is danger, and love, and risk.

In case you feel like buying it, here’s a link.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/562484

Happy reading,

Alana