May 30, 2016

I heart you...

I've been editing recently.

More serious editing than I've ever done in my life. You see, I've been editing my filing cabinet. My computer. My closet. This blog. My dresser. My bookshelves. My office. My inbox. My life.

At one point, this site boasted nearly 5,000 posts. Now, I'm down to under 1,000. Why? Because it's time. Time for me to get rid of the excess weight.

What am I keeping? That's a good fucking question. As far as I can tell, I'm keeping anything that delights me.

This is interesting, honestly, in the mess of letters and papers I paw through. Greeting cards with faded signatures? Tossed. Even if they're from people I love. But a 23-year old scrawled note from an editor I worshipped? Kept. Letters from best friends I no longer know? Tossed. But photographs of the arms—yes, the arms—of a French beau I made out with decades ago? Kept.

What's the point?

I have an end in sight. I have a goal. A place I'd like to be. With a filing cabinet I can find things in. A closet of clothes I adore. A bookshelf of titles I would re-read any day. A memory box of the type of memories worth, well, remembering.

Along the way, I've tripped over concert stubs for shows I have no recollection of attending. (I saw Paul McCartney? Really? How fucking cool is that?)

For this blog, I figure if I can hone this down to the pieces that resonate, I'll feel good. And sure, there are sad posts, and a few rants here and there, and poems, dreams, porn, and hope. Why?

Simple. Life.

But mostly there are words. Words that show I'm striving every day to become better at the only thing I've ever wanted to be. A writer. I'm struggling. I'm putting one word after the other as I've done since I first held a pencil, slammed the keys on a typewriter, met my first computer.

And I'm grateful as fuck for everyone who has been willing to join me on the ride. So I wanted you to know that I ♥ you.


May 23, 2016

Reboot • Reset • Restart • Rewrite

I've been a publisher, an editor, and a writer for most of my adult life. But recently, I jettisoned two of the titles. Which leaves writer.

This shift in perspective has taken me a little while to get used to. I feel as if I've recently rebooted. Restarted my engines. Rewritten my DNA. Reset my perspective.

I'm reminded of the scene in High Fidelity where Rob writes down his five dream jobs and the last one is architect. Laura says:

"It's got to be architecture then, has it?"
"I guess."
"Seven years' training."
I shrug.
"Are you prepared for that?"
"Not really."
"No, I didn't think so."
"I'm not sure I really want to be an architect."
"So you've got a list here of five things you'd do if qualifications and time and history and salary were no object, and one of them you're not bothered about."
"Well, I did put it at number five."

(God, I love this whole scene. In the book and the film.)

The truth is that being a writer is all I want to be. All I know how to do. If I were to make a list of my dream jobs, there'd really only be one. 

My dream job list:

1. Writer
2. Writer
3. Writer
4. Writer
5. Writer

What a beautiful fucking word.


P.S. Your support means everything to me. Each time one of my indie titles sells, I am seriously thrilled. An Every-So-Often Orgy, The Dom Channel, and Alison After Dark cost about as much as a gourmet cup of coffee. Sip me slowly. Savor every drop.

April 24, 2016

I should have...

While cleaning up this week, I fumbled over this note (written on the back of a letter dated 12/97) that is yet another fragment of Figment. This title clearly haunted me for years. I'm now powering through a book I had on hold for a little while. But I broke through a hurdle, tore down a dam, surfed over a... basically, I had a brainwave, and I know where I'm going.

For someone with as bad a sense of direction as I have, this is sublime.

In news of the strange, two different interactions caused me to write what I guess are poems this week. One when I brushed up against Somer Canon...

And the other following a conversation with David and Nancy.

Here's hoping your weekend has been glorious and filled with adventure.


April 18, 2016

Trollop with a Question #91

Right now, this is what I'm working on. Well, this and a few (hundred) other projects. Because my brain is a bus station, and ideas climb aboard at all hours of the night. But while I'm in my office, working, here is a Monday question, inspired in a great deal by a picture David shared.

It's midnight—give or take six minutes. You're out on your own, craving an adventure. How far do you go? What do you bring with you?

Okay, so that's two questions. But I'm often up in the night, wondering about people who are on the move. It's probably why the characters in Figment are all on journeys. And why I am drawn to movies about a) insomniacs and 2) people who end up in unexpected locations. Why I love Nighthawks at the Diner. Why sometimes you'll see me online at two in the morning. Already talking about coffee.

Oh, coffee.

As a writer, the past few years have been daunting. Not simply financially, but emotionally. All I want is to write—and to connect with readers. I started this blog nearly a decade ago, and I had no idea if anyone would be out there, reading the words I typed. Since I began keeping track in 2007, this crazy blog has been visited 1,794,579 times!

Off in the wilderness of my sleep-deprived brain, I think I forget sometimes to say how much this means to me.

So thank you! Thank you for riding my bus.


April 11, 2016

Trollop with a Question #90

The past few years have been transformative for me. Not because something happened and I changed, but because many things happened and I didn't like my responses.

I used to say that I was thigh-high with deadlines. Now, there are no deadlines. This is good. This is what writing used to feel like for me before.

Before I knew all the rules.

At the moment, I'm almost done with several new (and not-so-new) projects. So I'm going to dive down deep for a little while and see if I can type "fin" on any of them. Starting has always been far easier for me than finishing. I'd rather say hello than goodbye.

While I'm underwater, please answer my latest question, which is...

I've given you a magic bicycle. 
You can peddle anywhere. 
Where do you go...and who do you take with you?


P.S. Thank you for your continued support—and general friendliness. I truly appreciate your willingness to play along—still, after all these years.

April 08, 2016

I want to be your perfect night.

A while back, I wrote a piece called "You're Doing It Wrong." I'd read a headline that queried, "Are you failing correctly?" And I thought, WTF? Can you actually fail wrong? I've failed often. Spectacularly even.

But recently I thought this: we're bombarded all the time by people we don't know telling us we don't know what we're doing. Over the years, I've had more than my share of strangers chiming in to tell me I suck.

Here is the success part. I am strange. Yes. That's my message. What I like is strange. My favorite books are rarely anyone else's favorite books. The music I play endlessly is generally not the music of the masses. The way I wear makeup—glittery blue liner in the daytime, dark red lipstick at all hours—is not the way the magazines advise to apply the stuff.

So maybe for me success is reaching out to eight other people. Eight people who like what I write. I am not going to go viral. (But viral has such a negative sound to it.) The truth is, I don't care. What I want is to connect. To create the best fucking work I possibly can and to be able to get that work to my readers.

I started penning this piece before I survived yet another author's spew attacking indie writers. Now, I know the majority of other writers have not experienced the journey with traditional publishers that I have. But for me, self-publishing equals freedom. This writer compared literary fiction to opera and self-published fiction to chart music.

Honestly? My vision is like this...

It's late. You've gone to your favorite dark, hole-in-the-wall club. And you've randomly landed on a night featuring a band you've never heard anything about. The music is insanely good. Intense. The rhythm does something to you. Ricochets inside you. And you're flying. Everything about the night is magic. The bartender winks at you when you snag another round. The neon is glowing. At the end of the evening (or maybe early next morning), it turns out that the band is selling their CDs from the back of their van. You buy one for $8 bucks, the crumpled bills in your back pocket. On the way home, you relive in the night, that new music surrounding you. Every time you play that CD, you think of the way you felt. The club. The front man in his leather slacks and formfitting scarlet t-shirt. The hot female bassist with the asymmetrical pink hair. The androgynous drummer.

Maybe that band never makes it. (Whatever "it" is.) But, damn, man. That was one perfect night in your life.

There. That's it. My goal. My definition of success? I want to be your perfect night.


April 04, 2016

Trollop with a Question #89

I put up questions for 88 weeks. And then I stopped. Cold turkey. Not really cold turkey. I stopped because I had so much else weighing on me. I wanted to finish things. Figment. The Dom Channel. This new sci-fi erotic novel that is swirling through my nights. But I miss my questions. So, I thought here & there, front & center, sporadic & nomadic, I will toss a query your way.

Ampersands delight me.

They turn up in my world over and over. On my hard drive, I have 5,887 files featuring ampersands. This blog hosts 616 posts containing at least one &, including:

You think you're such hot shit.
Is this not totally fucking cool?
Free Smut Friday

My filthy Harlequin novella Tied Up & Twisted even features an ampersand on the cover!

But what I really adore are the t-shirts filled with &'s. I did a little research and discovered the origin. And now I am planning on digging a little deeper to find the genesis of the ampersand itself. But while we're waiting for that, here's my Monday question:

What would you put on your ampersand shirt? 

(The original was four names. You can break the rules if you'd like.)

I cannot wait to hear your responses! And I will be working on one myself...


P.S. I haven't been sending out prizes lately—because I lost my job. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of spare change for postage. But you know me. I adore sending prizes. So if I can come up with a way to do so, I will. In fact, I can definitely afford to send Fortune Fish. Problem solved!

April 03, 2016

No longer only a figment...

Oh, look! Figment is showing up on Kindles all over the world—and I'm so thrilled to see the photos by Sommer Marsden, Tiny Elvis, and David. This novella is my heart, my soul. Honestly, I am still a little dazed that I finished the story (or at least the start of the story). There is already one review on Amazon, too! (Thank you!)

You can send me your pictures to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com, and I'll put them up. here. (I'd love that!) Currently, I'm working on the print book, and another project that I can't wait to share.

In other news, Violet Blue made me smile like a fool when she put up this photo

Finally, I've been playing around with web design, and look what I figured out how to do! I'm ridiculously proud of myself:

"I really enjoyed the way that Ms. Tyler knitted her yarns into a wondrous novel." —From a 5-star review of Figment


March 28, 2016

The moon in her coffee. The stars in her sighs.

I'm (obviously) not much of a photographer. When I first attempted to take the picture this morning, I shot a video by accident. ("In a world where a woman hasn't had enough java...") That's what happens when you attempt to use devices before caffeine. (Or, at least, when I do.)

But the image—if it were clearer—would be of the moon surrounded by a handful of stars. Which made me think...

The moon in her coffee.
The stars in the sky.
Another sip.
Another trip.
She closes her eyes.

The moon in her body.
The stars in her sighs.
The darkness around her.
The shadows. The cries.

He holds her hips firmly.
Their lust is the prize.

Actually, I was not trying to write a sexy poem. I was trying to write a coffee poem. You see, coffee is a major plot point in one of the projects I'm working on now. (One of how many? Sixteen? Twenty?) I am juggling, as ever. But embracing the chaos, which is the best I can do.

Coffee is truly my last vice. (That's my last coffee on the wall... looking as if...) More on my new project soon. Until then, here's another of my odes.


March 22, 2016

Yes, yes, yes!

Yes, yes, yes! I have finished Figment! The long story—or short novel—is just shy of 30,000 words. I've been working on this project for years. In fact, recently I was doing an archaeological dig in my files, and I turned up early versions from decades ago. The concept haunts me.

This book is my answer.

Along the way, I confused and confounded myself. But finally I unraveled the story that I wanted to tell. Originally, I stamped Erotic Metafiction as the subtitle. Unfortunately, on Amazon, several of my titles are difficult to find unless you type in the title and subtitle exactly. I wanted Figment to be easy to find.

What I learned near the end, was that—holy fuck, this is only the beginning. Which made me ungodly pleased, because I didn't want to lose all the characters yet. I wasn't ready to see them go.

Trust me when I say that this is by far the strangest story I've ever written. And also the one I am most proud of. For backstory, check out: Remind yourself...

But better yet, please buy the book. This is indie erotica that is dear to my heart, and your support is greatly appreciated.


March 18, 2016

"hot and bothered and ready to go..."

Wait, should that say "hot and buttered"? No, the quote above is from a fabulous new review (my first!) for An Every-So-Often Orgy! Woo hoo! I'm so pleased, I can't even say. (Well, I just did. But you know what I mean.)

In a world where more often than not the internet scares the fuck out of me, waking up to this five-star truly made my month! Thank you so much!

In other news, I've done my second round of edits on Figment. In fact, this morning I removed all the plastic flowers that Vera left behind. At some point, that will make sense. I promise. I can see the end. I can taste the finish line. I can deep throat the... kidding. I'm almost there.

And finally, this weekend (starting today, actually), Movie Quotes... to Live By is on sale for 99 cents. If you're as much of a film fiend—a movie maven—a cinema slut?—as I am, this news will have you popping with joy! (Couldn't resist.)

May your weekend be delightful and kinky, wicked and weird.


March 14, 2016

Figment: Erotic Metafiction

In a way, I have been writing Figment forever. Seriously. Since I first became a writer, there have been elements of this story hidden in the alleys, crammed between the lines. Last night, I finished the first draft.

The piece needs more work, of course. I know that. But the pages no longer need a blowtorch or a jackhammer. I'm at the fine tuning stage, and I am... well... fucking relieved. I know what's missing. I know how to fix what doesn't work.

Yesterday, I found this note in my mess. I mean, on my desk. With help from Twitter (thank you Gray and Dom), I translated my insane handwriting:

Remind yourself: you're a writer.

You'd think after all these years, I wouldn't need reminding. But right now, the knowledge is precisely what I craved. Because I have to dig back in and add what is still in my head and not on the paper. The crazy part is how long this book has taken me and how short the book actually is. Right now? 80 pages. For all that work. I probably wrote more about the book than the book itself:

I called the piece "The Pet" on my hard drive, but Figment online.
I was working on Figment when I had this dream.
Maybe plotting would have helped. But I don't wear plots.
Here is where things started to get strange.
But I began to understand my characters.
And I refused to flinch.
I don't want to fight, I said.
But the meter kept ticking.
It's not my fault, I assured myself.
My characters wanted to go #home.
Even when they wanted to go to someone else's home.
It was the weirdest fucking dream.

And it's not over yet.

But I'm close.


March 10, 2016

There's rainwater in my coffee...

I'm not being poetic.

I took my pale blue mug outside, stood under the bleak silver-gray clouds, and let the rain wet my cup. When my clothes grew too damp, I set the coffee on the front step and stripped. On my naked skin, the rain felt warmer. The world felt less sad.

I spread my legs, let the rhythm of the raindrops match the beat of my heart.

Now, there's rainwater in my coffee.

And coffee in my rain.

I close my eyes and surrender to the elements, until the water liquifies me. And all that's left is an empty cup.


March 09, 2016

Weirdest fucking dream...

Since losing my job, I've been busier than ever. Scrambling, really. Trying to figure out what to do next. Or how to do next. How to do what next. I've never actually made a living as a writer. I've always been a writer plus. A writer plus an editor. A writer plus a publisher. A writer plus a popcorn girl.

Part of me has been (quite honestly) petrified.

Another part has been sort of excited. What can I make happen? What will I master in the future?

And yet a different part of me has been sad. (Wow. That's a lot of parts of me.)

Because, you see, I fucking loved my job. So it's not only the loss of income, but a bit of my identity feels erased.

Luckily, writing soothes me.

I've been working on two pieces lately that sort of connect to one another. The first is on piracy and what it means to writers like me. The other is on success and how we're expected to measure up. Hopefully, I'll have one to post soon. I've also been working on an idea I've had for years. A serial of sorts. Stay tuned!

Until then, please know that I'm writing (freelancing, ghosting) all the time. And that I seriously appreciate your support over the years. This is my tenth year blogging and my 25th in erotica. Time flies when you're having sex. No, wait. I mean, time flies when you love your work. When you believe in what you do.

Thank you to those who have bought The Dom Channel. Your $2.99 means more than $2.00 to me for each sale. It's like buying me a cup of virtual coffee, and getting a smutty story as a grateful thank you!

I think I've been a little bit like a sleep-walker this past month. That's okay. Weirdest fucking dream... but I'll ride the ride.


P.S. The quote above is for #1lineWed. Yes, it's from Figment. No, I'm not finished yet. But I will be. Someday.

March 03, 2016

Ink Your Kink!

A friend recently explained to me that adult coloring books now make up 50% of all print book sales.

You probably can see where this is going. When *I* heard the news, I assumed "adult" coloring books meant "adult" coloring books. I used the word the way people use "adult" to talk about my books. I entertained visions of all these filthy coloring books hitting the market. People happily inking their kink—a best-selling coloring book on backdoor sex. One on sixty-nining. Another filled with bondage gear. Should I color the ball gag pink or blue? Do I make the handcuffs purple leopard?

Of course, then reality set in and I realized that no, the majority of the coloring books for grown-ups were simply more detailed coloring books. Cooler ones than I remembered, perhaps, but regular coloring books of mandalas, flowers, animals. "Adult" not meaning XXX in this case. (Even though there is a coloring book series called "50 Shades of Fun," but no. It's pets and places.)

Then I did a little digging, and look what I discovered!

The Fetish Coloring Book
The Kinky Coloring Book

I believe these two were published before the latest craze. How cool is that?

There's this new one, which made me laugh:

Calm the Fuck Down

And this one, which I may actually buy:

Swear Word Adult Coloring Book

I'd love to see Riendo publish her black-and-white illustrations in this fashion! I know I'm behind on everything. But if you want to have a little coloring fun, why not print out a black-and-white version of one of my covers and beautify the image your own way. I will post the versions here if you email to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com. If you want me to send you a black-and-white image, shoot me an email as well.


February 29, 2016

People Fucking with the Lights Off

I understand why people give advice. Often, they've been through something already, and they want to share their wisdom. Help you out. Make sure you don't fall into the same sticky mistakes they've experienced. And yet, so many people have told me that I'm destined to fail at fill-in-the-blank that I often discount unsolicited input. For instance, I was told that Alison After Dark would never sell. There are no people on the cover. The title does not explain what is going on in the stories. I should have called it something like: People Fucking with the Lights Off. Or maybe just People Fucking.

Actually, that's not a bad title...

And yet, Alison After Dark is my best-selling title this month—and many months. Of course, "best-selling" is relative. The little collection that could is simply selling better than my other titles. But I consider that a success. (I've been working a lot at redefining "success" for myself lately. More on this at some point.) The flip side is that maybe if I'd called the book People Fucking with the Lights Off, the title would have sold like gangbusters. Now, we'll never know.

(Oh, ho, you say. Nobody told you to put "fucking" in the title. And you're right. I'm paraphrasing. And I've got a dirty mouth.)

Which brings us to Figment. Figment is a book I apparently have been writing for decades. (This weekend, I found a draft of a story from eons ago that has Figment-like strands.) The short novel—or long novella—is almost finished. And I'm trying to figure out how to release the book.

What I'd like to do is offer the title for a book group. If people bought a copy, they could join my once-a-week book group, and I would provide additional information about the title. Stories and notes, behind-the-scenes peeks. This is an idea that is obviously still in the beginning stages, but let me know if you'd be interested in joining a Figment book group. Then we'll go from there.

Conversely, if you'd buy a book called People Fucking with the Lights Off, let me know that, and maybe I'll add a new project to my list!

Oh, while I have you—don't forget that Violet Blue has a new book out featuring a few chapters from one of my novels in progress. The Cuckold Who Loves Me will definitely live up to your expectations of what a book by VB should be! And Sommer Marsden has a brand-new title available from HarperCollins. Muse is gorgeous on the outside and filled with the type of perfect prose you'd expect on the inside.

Do yourself a favor. Slip into Marsden's Muse!


February 21, 2016

Fancy meeting you here... our cozy little corner of cyberspace. Where have I been? At my desk. As always. As ever. Typing like mad on my computer. Creating stories about people who seem to really live in my head. Why haven't I been posting every day (or multiple times a day) as I've done in the past?

Because I'm trying something new. Which I've been wrestling with for quite a while.

What do I miss? The interactions. I enjoy typing with—and talking to—people. You'll still see me on Twitter, messing with Writerly and riffing off Archilect. But mostly, I'm working. I hope to have more results to share before too long. Novel-length results, I mean. Until then, here's a story I finally was able to finish. I started An Every-So-Often Orgy years ago... I can tell you when. January 26, 2013. Time flies when it flies, doesn't it?

If you'd like to read me for free, check out:

A NSFW excerpt from Banging Rebecca

And if you decide to buy one of my short stories, know that I'm seriously delighted. I truly hope you enjoy these shorts. I'm pouring (wrote "purring") your cup of kink to the brim. Bring your lips to my rim. Lick me up.


February 15, 2016

He pucked. She pulled.

I've been playing with coffee terminology and porn. Java and smut. Two themes that delight me. Two genres I could imbibe all day. I realized I was slipping these up on Twitter and not posting here, so here's a double-shot, in case you missed them.

Nearly all of the words are from coffee glossaries. Some of the definitions themselves read like straight-up smut to me. I'm dazzled.

In other news, the dreamy Ms. Violet Blue chose to excerpt one of my novels-in-progress in her latest collection. If you're interested in peeking at one of the books I'm working on, please consider purchasing this arousing indie: The Cuckold Who Loved Me. Also, check back this week. I'm planning on writing one of my Etymologies of Smut. I can feel the word percolating already...

Finally, here's a sip of me for free:

The Pick-Up Artist (definitely NSFW)

And here's a collection for $3.89:

Your support means the world to me!


February 10, 2016

Lovers come and go here...

The theme of #1lineWed this week was "scent." I selected a snippet from the introduction of The Dom Channel, my latest kinky BDSM short story:

There's a scent when you walk in—one that lets you know these walls have seen time pass. It's like lemon and sky. Candle wax and cinnamon. Lovers come and go here...

Thank you so much to the readers who have bought the story. I've been running like a wild thing lately, and I haven't had the time to properly let you know how thrilled I am with every sale. If I could, I'd set up a corner bar called Alison's. (See the sign in neon?) I'd have my Smith Corona up on the counter, and I'd type you a fresh short story every night.

Instead, I'm sliding these pages through the ether to you. $2.99 for a short shot of pure kink. Don't forget to lick the rim.


February 05, 2016

An Every-So-Often Orgy

Here's a little peek behind-the-scenes at what I've been working on. Or one of the projects, at least. I'm kissing distance from finishing a novel. Flirting distance from typing "The End" on a 40K novella. And at the first adorable stages of batting my eyelashes at a hunky new book that arrived in my dreams the other night.

But for now, here's the cover of a brand-new short I'm almost ready to post. I started this one in 2013—crazy how sometimes the stories take longer than the novels!

What else have I been doing? Scrambling. But that's to be expected, I expect.

Thank you very much to those who have bought The Dom Channel. Your support is immensely—and intensely—appreciated!