Tarantella – the art of the dancer
March 23, 2013

Having just blogged about burlesque and the art of person to person, body to body flirting that we seem to be losing in our digital age in my singles social blog ( ‘Have you got in touch with your naughty side recently?’), I thought I’d have a bit of a tinker with the start of the short story I entered for the ITV.com Racy Reads competition  about a month or so ago. No, I didn’t win – I wasn’t explicit, stemy or trashy enough – and I’ve never rally seen myself as the next Mills and Boon bodice ripper – or maybe now with the 50 shades advent; manacle gripper – but I did have fun writing something that would be more commercial than convincing.

Here we go then – the first 1000 words of Tarantella – do you fancy me completing it? If so, let’s have some naughty plotline suggestions please!

***

‘Carrie, come on – or management will be pissed with you.’ Danno sounded more than impatient, he sounded like management.

belly dancer for tarantella‘Coming.’

She pushed away from the spot-lit mirror and hurried up the stairs from the dressing room to the back of the stage. The noise and smells of the club greeted her, raucous and acrid.

‘They’re getting bored waiting,’ Danno chivvied her. She shrugged unconcernedly.

‘Then I’ll be all the more worth waiting for, won’t I?’ She hated this brittle bitch she had to pretend to be as ‘Tarantella’, but it was expected now. That was who she was to them all; a beautiful raven haired bitch, a tart without a heart. The private Carrie had got lost behind the public dancer. She wondered testily how they could be bored with so many other girls strutting and posing on the podiums around the club or desperately blagging dances in the VIP booths, but she knew what Danno meant.  They were waiting for her – for Tarantella, and the new club owner was there tonight too, wanting to see what he’d bought and what changes he might be making to it. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage to a mixture of cat calls and wolf-whistles, but a hush fell as she danced. In her private world she was Carrie, doing a job for money. On stage she was Tarantella, siren, charmer, beguiler, dancer; stripper. The chiffon layers slowly dropped away as she twisted and snaked, arching her back as her body undulated. The only sound was the music. The punters were mesmerised and she was glad the spotlight blinded her to them. She lost herself in the challenge to perform artistically, not simply strip. The music dropped as she slid the basque top away to show her small breasts, like ripe peaches, and the mood became more tense; sexual.

She didn’t like this part of the routine because it brought her too close to them and she could catch glimpses of the faces watching as she slithered and twisted. She reached the point in the dance where she had to face the audience and remove her g string, usually to deafening applause and shouts for more. She pulled the knot on the side but the sounds and the responses were lost on her as she met the piercing eyes she’d not encountered before – at the back of the audience, almost hidden. He looked smarter than most of the men there. He stood out from them for that alone. Maybe that was why she noticed him as she unintentionally glanced out at her audience?  His face was intent but not in a lustful way like the others; meditative – curious even. Who are you? It said. The bolt went through her like lightening. And who are you too?

She picked up her abandoned clothes and slipped quickly off stage.

‘Good stuff,’ Danno called after her. He was the nicer of the heavies and she called her thanks back – best to keep in with the bouncers. ‘The boss was up the back; the new bloke. Did you see him?’ She paused, pulling her clothes to her defensively; suddenly ridiculously shy at being naked now she was off-stage.

‘No, where? What’s he look like?’

‘Oh pretty non-descript, but smart-dressed, not like the other bums out there.’ So that had been the new guy, subtle, understated; but she’d sensed the power behind the quiet exterior. For the first time in ages her interest was stirred. She changed quickly into the cowgirl outfit she hated – all rhinestones and glitz. The hat was a monstrosity, but useful to play hide and seek with on-stage, gradually revealing the beautiful body she kept so privately to herself off-stage.

She didn’t hear him arrive as she strapped the tiny sparkling thigh holster on, stiletto boot braced against the vanity unit.Kinky boots

‘Ride-em cowboy!’ The voice was deep and smooth, like molten chocolate, but she was already anxious so she snapped a sharp response back without looking.

‘Oh get a life, can’t you?’

‘I already have a perfectly good one, actually.’ The reply came back quickly but mildly. She turned around in surprise to find him right behind her, so close her face was level with his chest and his musky maleness made her blood pulse faster. She looked up and met two amused blue eyes, crinkling boyishly at the corners. The same calm control and underlying power was apparent at close quarters too. She gasped under cover of stepping back to put some space between them before his proximity made her head spin. ‘I’m Jack Good, the new owner, and you, from the description must be Carrie – or Tarantella, by another name. Do you kill your lovers as well as your boss by paralysing them with your venom – or is that just a rumour?’ The barb was deserved but she couldn’t resist rising to it.

‘Only if they’re not clever enough to avoid it.’ She threw back her shoulders defiantly. The frail dark beauty became fire and fury. He raised his eyebrows.

‘I can see your spark isn’t just in your gun.’ He laughed and she felt put down. She didn’t like this man after all, but he disturbed her peace of mind nevertheless. He leant forward and whispered in her ear. ‘Dare you…’ So it would be a duel to the death then? She pulled the tiny gun from its holster and pushed it into his chest.

‘Bang, bang! You’re dead, Mister.’ She could feel the heat from his body and as she looked up their lips almost met. He smelt of brandy and the heady fumes mixed with her pounding blood.

‘Hey Carrie, where are you?’ It was Danno again.

‘Now you’ll have some fire in your performance.’ He breathed the words onto her lips. She trembled and he steadied her. What was this man doing to her? He surveyed her flushed cheeks and parted lips with satisfaction. ‘That’s what I like in my dancers…’

***

Images are:

1. Shakira at the Rock in Rio concert 2008 courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

2. Bondage by Raimond Spekking via Wikimedia Commons

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Do you have an evil twin?
December 29, 2012

Do you have an evil twin?

You know the one that eats the packet of biscuits when you’re on a diet, or flirts with someone’s partner at a party, or secretly uses the credit card you’d hidden at the back of your purse when you know the credit balance is already too high, or eats the last rolo … the bad side

Yep, that’s the one. It’s your alter ego. The one you really don’t want to admit to but who is there with you, every step of the way, dogging the nice, kind, principled things you do with the mean little comments about what you’d really like to do…

Now that sounds bad – and a little weird, but actually its ok for us to all have that BAD person inside because comparing like with like doesn’t work, but comparing good with bad lets you see what is really the right thing to do and what really is not! Good and bad luck work the same way. If you didn’t have bad things happen to you occasionally, you wouldn’t be able to leap about in quite the same way when something good pops up. If it was all good, there would be nothing different to notice would there?

So why do we have a good and a bad side? Freud, Jung and a whole host of others psychs have plenty to say about it. Maslow is famous for proposing that human motivation is based on a hierarchy of needs. The lowest level of need is physiological and survival needs, such as hunger and thirst. Further levels up include belonging and love, self-esteem, and finally self-actualisation.

Self-actualisation, hmm – what the ****** is that? Well the nearest in layman’s language to it is

  • the discovery of one’s vocation or destiny,
  • the realisation of life as precious,
  • acquisition of important experiences,
  • being able to developing choice,
  • and having a sense of accomplishment.

Ok, what has that to do with good and bad? Well, the crux of that is as we approach a new ‘New Year’. Are your choices and your 2013 going to be ‘bad’, or ‘good’? Is your alter ego who grumbles about everything, criticises everyone, refuses to do anything new, and is dissatisfied about life in general because it is all ‘bad’ going to take the first step into 2013, or is your ‘good’ persona going to beat it there?

midnight approachesWe are all about to face the New Year’s resolution crisis point any day now in a time when the economy is in recession, businesses are failing and everyone is finding it tougher and more depressing than any time since the 1930’s. Those New Year choices will take you at least a year forward; maybe much further, so don’t let your alter ego keep you in the old ways of 2012. Be pro-active if you haven’t, brave even if you don’t think you are, optimistic even though you’re not. It’s not surprising to know that ‘self-actualisation’ is in your hands, and so is the fate of your evil twin …

I have given life to two evil twins in Courting the Dark which is coming out next year. One of the characters is my weak and silly side, and another is my very wicked one. Now you have to read the book when it comes out to see what they’re like, don’t you 😉

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Bold, Beautiful and Brave
November 28, 2012

I have just watched the BBC 3 Documentary ‘Transsexual Teen, Beauty Queen ‘ on i-player. For those of you interested in seeing it for yourself, you have five days and counting – and it’s worth the rush because this lady is exactly the way I describe her in the title.

Watch it here whilst you can:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00w09yg

At eighteen, Jackie Green has seen more trauma, confusion, bullying and torment than most see in a life time and yet she emerges from thirteen years of nightmare confident, serene and undoubtedly beautiful. Jackie is a new generation of transgender people, although she had to make a bit of history herself to pave the way for others. She went to America to obtain hormone blockers below the age they would be prescribed in the UK, which then enabled her to make her so successful transition to a young woman. Sadly, such treatment is far more difficult to obtain in the UK, meaning that for many the onset of puberty has already allowed the bodily changes that make authenticity difficult for them as transgender people. Jackie ‘passes’ perfectly for female – no it’s not a  derogatory term, it’s a phrase many trans people use to denote someone who is so authentic in their gender role, no observer would know there had ever been an issue – and it is what all aspire to, but not so many achieve.

But Jackie is more than that, she is a real girl and that became very obvious when, on her final attempt to make it into the Miss England beauty pageant finals, she specifically didn’t tell her interviewers in the ‘personality’ round that she was transgender and give them the benefit of her back story. She was just Jackie, and judged purely as a girl against other girls in the contest.

In my research into transgender issues and whilst writing my novel following the life and transition of Will – Billie, I read many things, spoke to various people in various stages of transition and came to understand some, but barely enough of what it is to deal with this complex, challenging – and for those of us who don’t know what it feels like – confusing, condition; gender disphoria.

  Some information from the NHS website is here:

  http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/Gender-dysphoria/Pages/Introduction.aspx

watch the whole video of boy to girl here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upPpNb846JE

and I have included parts of a moving plea from a US transgender website in the novel (Chained Melody – out January 18th 2013), which says this:

‘…I have had to surrender much of my life to the brutality and incomprehension of societal ignorance surrounding the phenomenon of transsexualism. That ignorance and prejudice costs lives is no new discovery, it is the bane of every age whether it shows up in war or in civil violence or in silent hatred and misunderstanding. In this case though it was my own life that has been bled away year by year in my efforts to correspond to what body may have indicated but my soul knew to be an alien fabric out of which I could never hope to weave a complete or a happy life. The only comfort I have for those lost days and years during which I was a stranger to myself frantically seeking to garb my soul in the personalities and expectations of others, is that I might be the last generation to know such pointless suffering. That is why I am writing today, to spare others lost years, lost hopes, lost lives…’

http://www.susans.org/reference/gfam3.html

What I have learned – and Jackie, and recently also Juliet Jacques, in her Guardian blog, have confirmed for me – is that anyone living through and coming out the other side of being transgender is certainly bold, beautiful and brave – whatever they look like.  Jackie, if you do compete in Miss England again next year, you have my vote!But one word of caution. Don’t think you are unfairly trading on your back story. It is what makes you a girl, but a very special girl and that story is part of what makes you special. Not because you are transgender, but because you’ve lived through the transition from male to female with grit, determination and dignity. You’ve risen above prejudice and openly been true to yourself in the face of opposition. That’s a story all in itself…

Some links of interest for anyone involved with this issue themselves or wishing to be supportive of those still struggling with it:

www.mermaidsuk.org.uk

http://www.gires.org.uk/transbullying.php (Guidance to Combating Transphobic Bullying in Schools is a publication from GIRES, the Gender Identity Research and Education Society, whose aim is to create supportive attitudes among those who can influence improvements in the lives of trans people and how they are perceived in society).

http://www.gires.org.uk/

http://www.beaumontsociety.org.uk/

http://gendertrust.org.uk/

More information about Chained Melody, it’s publication date and the location of book signings as they are agreed can be found on my website:

http://www.debbiemartin.co.uk/novels/

It is launching concurrently, and with the arrival of the ‘Living my Life’ exhibition in Bournemouth. Come and see the portraits, meet the people and chat to the author – 18th to 25th January. All details will be on the website shortly.

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Disturbing times ahead …
November 12, 2012

There are always moments of crisis or change in our lives and often they produce insights and inner knowledge we didn’t have before. They change us – maybe indefinably to those who are the onlookers of our lives, but subtly and irrevocably to us, the intimate viewers of our own landscape.  I call these exciting, but disturbing moments, transformations because they do transform us in some way. And transformations do not have to be earth-shattering or mind-boggling. The most significant ones are often quiet realisations of a tiny part of the bigger whole, because that’s exactly what we are most of the time – a part of the whole.

And so, obviously, I write about transformation in my books. Maybe the transformation is frivolous and fun – changing a shrinking violet into a gaudy sunflower as they read and laugh at my embarrassingly naïve antics in ‘Are you the One?’ (You can do that too here:

Buy Are You The One? Here 

Maybe it is gaining confidence from defining a route forward by taking on board

the ideas in ‘The  Strategy’ – which by the way can be downloaded free from Amazon:

Download the Strategy here:

on 1st December – but be quick about it, and please leave a review as a thank you …

However, some transformations are massive, and create a massive impact in the lives of not only the person transforming, but those around them too. I want to introduce you to one such massive transformation that has and is taking place in the lives of a small minority of the population but nevertheless one that makes us question many of our principles and attitudes and sometimes find ourselves and our empathy sadly wanting. I have written a book about it, called Chained Melody which will be published in January 2013.

Some very talented people have taken beautiful photographs of it and they will be on display in Bournemouth Library, and Flirt Café Bar, also in Bournemouth from the 18th to the 25th January 2013:

http://www.flirtcafebar.com/Events.html

And some very brave people will be telling and showing what that transformation meant for them as a result:  Transsexualism.

Have a look at the links and find out a bit more about another life, lived in what might seem like another world to the one you inhabit, but which is actually only just next door.

What spurred on a very hetero heterosexual to write a book about it?

This from Shakespeare:

‘For such as we are made of, such we be.’

Twelfth Night Act 2 Scene 2 line 3

And,

‘There is no darkness but ignorance.’

Twelfth Night Act 4 Scene 2 line 41

 

To take ourselves out of the darkness of ignorance, we have to experience something new and often disturbing – to have our own transformation.

Here we go – the back cover blurb fom the book to get you going, and next week a little sample of what’s inside the cover:

 

‘Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself.’ – Emil e M Cioran

Can the flutter of a butterfly’s wing cause a ripple in the world, so big it can change not just one life – but many? Chaos theory says it can, claim the theorists. Two men, two lives, one seemingly small incident, but it changes one man’s whole view of himself and the chrysalis transforms into a butterfly whose fragile wings cause shockwaves beyond those imaginable in the lives of the people around him.

Set in the 1970-80’s, the hurricane whipped up by this butterfly’s wings brings not only dramatic change at a time when the sexual revolution was already under way, but death, damnation and forbidden love. Transsexual transformation, the nature of love, and finding a true self from within are all set against a backdrop of life in the permissive eighties – and a suspicious death which creates the test of whether true love really exists or whether the chains of social convention will keep it forever imprisoned.

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Debbie Martin

The lock of love
September 17, 2012

The locks of Love

Recently I visited Paris again – I first went long ago when I was in my twenties, then again in my thirties, once in my forties, and here I am into the fifties so it seemed almost predestined it was time to go again. Going somewhere new makes you learn so much about yourself and what you believe in as well as about the place you visit. This time, love was on my mind – not because I have a partner, but because I’ve spent a lot of time this year thinking about the essence of it – what is it really all about? Writing Chained Melody, and now with the first draft complete, has made me examine love from many angles I hadn’t given great thought to before and one experience from Paris brought the tricky question of love rearing up again.

 

On a bridge called the Pont de l’Archeveche, near Notre Dame in Paris there are thousands of love locks –padlocks entwined and clasped to the bridge, bearing the names of the beloved and the lover.

 

The trend derives from Serbia, where a local schoolmistress named Nada, who was from Vrnjačka Banja, fell in love with an army officer named Relja. After they committed to each other Relja went away to war in Greece where he fell in love with a local woman from Corfu. The result was that Relja and Nada broke off their engagement but Nada never recovered and was said to have died of a broken heart. Young girls from Vrnjacka Banja following the story decided to protect their own love by writing down their names, together with the names of their loved ones, on padlocks and attaching them to the railings of the bridge where Nada and Relja used to meet. The two names padlocked together signified their lover was locked to them, and therefore free to no-one else.

The trend was popularised in Rome, with the ritual of affixing love padlocks to the bridge Ponte Milvio attributable to the book I Want You by Italian author  Federico Moccia. Padlocks are firmly in proliferation on the Hohenzollern Bridge in Cologne, the Wild Pacific Trail in Ucluelet on Vancouver Island, and the Humber Bridge in Toronto. They also abound on the Ponte Vecchio bridge in Venice, and the Ha’penny Bridge in Dublin. In Fengengyuan, Taiwan, love padlocks affixed to an overpass at the city’s train station are often in pairs, and on a fountain in Montevideo in Uruguay, a plaque is affixed to the front of the fountain that provides an explanation in both English and Spanish. The English version reads,

The legend of this young fountain tells us that if a lock with the initials of two people in love is placed in it, they will return together to the fountain and their love will be forever locked.

It seems the world over, lovers wants to trap their lover by their side and keep them forever. Yet isn’t love meant to be quite the reverse of a trap? Is it not meant to set you free? Surely love is all about choice and that is why we find it so incomprehensible at times when we see two people who we objectively regard as quite unmatched, hopelessly, helplessly and happily in love?

The odd thing about love is that there are so many different types. For example, there is the love of a parent for a child, a child for a parent. There is the love between friends. There is even the love of one’s pets. The biblical quote claims to describe perfect love:

1 Corinthians 13:4-13

Love is patient, love is kind, and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part; but when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away. When I was a child, I used to speak as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know fully just as I also have been fully known. But now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

But how do we aspire to such demanding criteria? Perhaps the central element of the quote should warrant more attention than we generally give it because normally we focus on the first part of the quote, ‘love is patient’ etc, and the last, ‘but the greatest of these is love,’ to its detriment.

Loving is all about being adult. To give and yet not expect a return is an adult concept; to face the truth of a situation and still accept, even if that truth is painful for us to bear – as in the case of rejection – is especially difficult, unless you approach it with unquestioning maturity and self-belief. Being rejected does not make you useless, or the rejecter cruel. It is simply a statement of differences. If you love someone, you allow them to choose. Actually, whether you love them or not, it is everyone’s right to choose, and not your right to impose.

Finally where love ‘does not seek its own’, it never seeks to imprison the object of its attention because in doing that, we are not truly being loving. When you love truly, you can only want the best for that person, even if they choose differently from you, otherwise all you are seeking is your own satisfaction.

So are the padlocks of love appropriate, fascinating though they are? As a token offered and accepted at the time – maybe; but only if the key accompanies it. I have a love padlock in Chained Melody, but it is left open. I think that’s the way love should be. Always offered, but never expected.

 

Future publication dates will be coming up shortly on my website as The Strategy is going onto Kindle as we speak, and Courting the Dark is with a publisher right now. Chained Melody is on track to be completed this month.

Follow me on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/Debbie-Martin-author-and-writer/290947497649847

and on my website:

http://www.debbiemartin.co.uk/

where you’ll find lots more to read and information when my books are published.

 

Debbie Martin

 

Lured into the red room of pain …
July 30, 2012

Last night I got lured away from the Olympics and onto Channel 4 to watch a documentary on the rise and rise of ‘50 shades of grey’. Now I have steadfastly refused to read this literary masterpiece because, having read the first page and a half on the Amazon preview when I was in the stage of maybe I ought to find out what this is all about, I realised that I couldn’t read even more than another word of it. I openly admit here that I do not ever intend reading it – why would I want to waste any more moments of my time on it? The documentary confirmed everything I always thought but with a little more detail.

Its genre seemed to be encapsulated by the wonderful description by an interviewee of it as ‘Wuthering Heights with whips’ or ‘Mills and Boon with bondage’. The very thought turns me off, not on. Another comment – ‘I don’t know any women who want to be anally fisted before bedtime’. Actually neither do I! I listened with interest to the reviews of the language used to portray these dramatically charged sexual scenes and laughed: ‘he touched me down there’ and ‘my private bits’. Is this an embarrassed five year old straying into the world of pornography or an adult? What sexually mature woman do you know who refers to her vagina as ‘down there’? My Auntie Mable did when she told us about having to see the doctor on a personal matter, but my friend Mandy would call a spade a spade, or a fanny a fanny. I can think of a whole dictionary of suitable words, although I won’t as I’m not a porn writer. Couldn’t you have researched your vocabulary better, as well as the sexual proclivities of the submissive society, EL?

And so she came, and came and came … ad infinitum, it seems. Is this what relationships are all about? I’ve been labouring under a misapprehension all these years … Indeed Pamela Stephenson – who now describes herself as a ‘Sexologist’ – wow, when did YOU come (pardon the pun) by that trade Pam? The last I heard you were a comedienne, but I’m digressing; Pammy commented that plainly Anastasia (more on the names later) was faking as no woman comes that often. Now that would be interesting to open up for discussion, but I imagine Cosmo has already been there.

Interestingly the real BDSM devotees that were interviewed on the documentary dissed EL’s version of it all, saying that no true BDSM relationship would countenance the submissive partner being spanked until they actually needed pain killers – as Anastasia does on one occasion. Apparently, the role allocation is also unrepresentative of the BDSM community – generally it is the woman who is the dominatrix and the man who wants to submit. The theory that was being expounded by several of the interviewees was that women respond to the content of 50 shades because, in a society where women have to work hard to be independent, organised and competitive in the boardroom, they relish the idea of being able to relinquish control in the bedroom. Maybe – but relinquishing control only occurs happily in a relationship where trust, equality and tenderness are paramount, not submission and control. Any general or BDSM relationship exponent would tell you that.

So what genre would I describe this 50 shades of something as? Well, if agents and publishers go on so little as the first page and a half and a brief synopsis, so will I: first the names. Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey – apart from suggestions in the documentary that the male protagonist’s (I can’t believe I’ve called him that) name was derived from a film already made, aren’t they pure Mills and Boon nonsense? Then there’s the coy, twee language; ‘the ‘down there’ and descriptions like one of Anastasia’s orgasms (who knows which one …) ‘shattering her into a million pieces’. Christian’s cock is Anastasia’s ‘very own Christian Grey popsicle’. I can only use teenage speak to respond to that – OMG – really? Pathetic (the language, not the cock – that is said to be HUGE). And intelligent women and men all over the world in their millions are reading this? I can’t actually decide on the right genre now I have to, maybe we should create another one – although I don’t want to be insulting.

So, some of you reading this will say ‘she is just jealous of EL’s success’. Not at all. As an entrepreneur myself – as well as a writer, I applaud anyone who makes it big with an idea. Well done for the achievement EL – and I wish you many more millions of success – although what you are going to do with it beats me. The dumpy little housewife/mum who was being interviewed on American TV in the documentary claimed to only want a new kitchen and to have bought a new Volkswagon car with it so far. She steadfastly refused to admit whether she had actually tried out the many forms of spanking, bondage, whipping, nipple clamps – BDSM in its entirety, in fact – simpering that the internet was a very good research tool…

No, what I object to is this: women suffered and fought, were killed and maimed to give other women equality. We now claim to be working hard to achieve and maintain that in our society. We deplore any kind of oppression or abuse and yet this trilogy of books is glamorising – even glorifying the submission of a vulnerable woman – still a virgin at 21 so naive and unwordly in the extreme, and the media and the publishing world are promoting it – all for the sake of the big bucks; cynicism and betrayal in the extreme. Betrayal? Well, not only is it a betrayal of the great women in our history who have fought for us to have the right to say no and be believed – the suffragettes and the women who have forged a path for us to follow at their own personal expense, it also thrusts a pile of badly written sloppy porn on the reading public at large, when there are hundreds of thousands of unknown TALENTED authors out there, struggling to even be read by an agent or a publisher. They are the people who have talent pouring out of them, but they do not write what purports to be sexual fantasy, they do not write sensationalism, they write eloquent, well thought out, meaningful pieces that have something to say to the soul.

If you want something really useful to do with your millions EL, since you don’t seem to have the vision to think of anything better than a new kitchen or car, do something to help the struggling debut authors to be acknowledged and give the reading world a chance to read good fiction not mediocre porn.

Back to the real world next time and the rest of the E-publishing review …

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Where you’ll find lots more to read and information when my books are published.

Debbie Martin