October 21, 2015

SEO - Seriously Erotic Orgasms

Here we are with a new chapter from my Rebel Rule Breaker. A chapter that is totally in the works. Meaning, rough around the edges. A little raw. A little green.

Success. I think this is what most people want. Of course, there are multiple definitions of what succeeding means. But the majority of social media articles I've read deal with success in respect to your online presence.

One of the pieces of advice I recently tripped over stated that you can determine the success of your "SEO" by whether the visitor does what you want them to do.

At first, I read the advice backwards. (No big surprise there.) I thought the message actually was whether I did what my visitor wanted me to do. Which is a sub way of thinking, I suppose. And which makes sense in that respect. I thought—

What does my visitor want from me?

Of course, that's not what the article was about. The article was all about making, cajoling, teasing or tricking the visitor into behaving in the manner the web-owner desired.

So what do I want from visitors?

Well, of course, I'd appreciate it if readers bought my books. And I'd like that to happen without me saying, "Buy my books!" all the time. Because there is no enjoyment in marketing for me. Also, in the past I have flogged books for publishers, and in some cases, I have never (and will never) be paid for the books I so carefully promoted. (Which is soul crushing. I went against my nature to do something I didn't want to do and the results were negated.)

Putting that aside, then, what do I really want? I thought about this yesterday while driving. (Yes, I was that silver-streaked woman talking to herself in the car. In case you were wondering.) And this is what I want. I want to write something so stark and beautiful that if you read my words early in the morning, you remember them throughout the day. No matter what you're doing. Where you are. I want you to be pouring another cup of coffee, or taking a client for a test drive, or creating an "I love you" bouquet of flowers... and then for a second, a flash, I want you to see...

His hands are on her shoulders, pinning her to the bricks. He has his mouth against her neck, and he's kissing softly at first. Almost too softly. She moans and arches, trying to offer more of herself to him. Showing him with her wordless gestures that she needs him to bite her, that she wants him to hurt her.

Just a little bit. Just so she can feel that spark.

He ignores her desires. He goes on, now undoing her shirt, slowly tugging each mother-of-pearl button through the hole. And her head is saying, "Stop. Girl, stop it. You're in public. Someone could walk by and see. Someone could catch what you're doing. Who you are." And then a louder voice, one that hasn't spoken up too often in the past, says, "This is who I am." He pulls harder, tears the shirt slightly with his haste. Because going slow has become too difficult for him, as well. He puts his hands on her naked skin. He's rougher, like she wanted. He's hungry.

The jeans are too constricting. Her panties are drenched. He shoves one hand inside them and discovers her wetness, and he sighs and brings his hand back out. Licks her from the tips of his fingers. Smiles at her in the way he did when they met. The way that let her know he understood. He would give her things. He would take her where she wanted to go.

Not to a fancy restaurant. Not out to the movies.

But to this alley. Where there's grit and rubble. Where the bricks are biting into her skin. Where he can yank down her jeans and spin her around, so that the cold of the wall is against her body, and the hot, hard length of him is inside her.

She sees the chipped rust-colored bricks in front of her. She knows she'll have scrapes on her breasts, on her stomach, when they're through. There's the smell of the bricks—a scent she didn't know existed—in her mouth. He wraps one hand in her ponytail. He anchors her while he fucks her.

This is who you are, the voice says.

This is who you are.


Fuck SEO. I refuse to measure my success based on any other terms than what I create.

What do I want? I want you to see people. I want them to get into your head the way they live in my head. So that you wonder while you're going about your business today, while you're doing all the things you have to do on your lists. I want you to know that they're alive somewhere, that they're waiting for me to write their story, and they're waiting for you to read their words.

I want you to want more.

And if I can do that, then I know I've succeeded.


1 comment:

Miz Angell said...

SUCCESS!! I'm always envisioning your characters. And wondering what they're up to. Kind of like old acquaintances you met one night in a bar and had such a good time with, but lost the number, or friended on Facebook but never really spoke to again. You relive your time with them, and wonder.