Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

Tag: writer’s life

Curious to the Core!

I’m often asked what the major driving force of inspiration is behind my writing. There are many things that influence me; overheard conversations, musical lyrics, friend’s fantasies; but at the very back of all that is a basic curiosity- a curiosity that always wants to know what is going on beyond my point of vision!

Not that I’m an eye to the keyhole sort of person. Nor would there be any point in me jamming my ear to the crack in the door (I’m deaf as a post); it’s more that I can’t stop my imagination from filling in the blanks. I’m constantly musing over what ‘might be’ going on. What could be happening, is often so much more interesting than what is happening!

For example, what could the top floor of a nearby hotel really contain? Is it full of nice normal bedrooms, in which tired out members of the business community can crash after a meeting? Or is it, as in my series, The Perfect Submissive, a hotbed of private services and kinky sex?

 

When you see a sign on a lift saying ‘staff only’ where does that lift actually take you? When they announce over the loud speakers in a shop or club, ‘Would a member of staff come to the storeroom,’ what happens when they get there? Are they whisked off in a limo to somewhere exotic? Are they sold to aliens for experimentation? I always hope they aren’t going to do something as dull as unpack boxes. I want them to have as much fun as the bar girls, and the young man they lure into their storeroom, in my story Break Time (The Collector)

The Collector

When you meet a stranger on the train; a stranger who catches your eye and sends your pulse racing- what would happen if you asked them out? Would you have coffee, maybe visit the cinema- or would you find yourself in the backroom of an exclusive club, doing sexually interesting things you hadn’t ever dreamt about, like the lead character in my story Black? (Yes Ma’am)

 

So basically I’m curious- or should that be nosily inquisitive- but only for what might happen- not for what really is happening- it’s far more fun that way!!

Happy Reading

Kay xx

Seventeen Years…and counting

This week sees the 17th anniversary of the first time I wrote some erotica! A fact that, in itself, seems impossible to me – a shy, self-conscious, paranoiac woman who has never quite got used to the fact that people actually want to by her books!

I still maintain that- if that very first story hadn’t been published- I’d never have picked a pen up for fiction creation ever again.

As with any anniversary, I have found myself reflecting on all that has happened to me ‘writing wise’ over the past decade and a half.

What a roller coaster ride it has been. Or perhaps it’s been more of a carousel, a long roundabout of constant ups and downs, but where, ultimately you always end up back where started, and yet you can’t quite stop the ride to get off…?

My first piece of erotica was a written on a paper serviette in a café in Aberdeenshire. I swear the idea came to be from nowhere. I don’t know why I was suddenly thinking about a cross dressing male who liked to have his arse spanked- but that is exactly what happened.

It took some time for me to be brave enough to do anything with the story. It was a couple of weeks before it made it onto a proper piece of paper, and several more before it was typed onto my computer and edited into shape. The amount of courage it took me to look up erotica publishers on the Internet- and the covert way I went about it- seems laughable now.

I sent off my story- which I rather unimaginatively had called Jen and Tim to Cleis Press- never expecting to hear anything again, and in the meantime, I’d written a rather kinky poem called Regrets, which I sent to the much missed Oysters and Chocolate web site. Then, I told myself to leave it alone, to look after my children and take up knitting or something. I never expected to hear back from either publisher. I certainly never expected to get both pieces taken- and I truly never expected the buzz the feeling of acceptance gave me- that was it- I was hooked- an addict to the acceptance of a publisher for the rest of my life!

It took 40 short story and poetry publications before I was brave enough to write something longer, and when I did, I cheated.

The Collector is both an anthology and a short novel- a set of different erotic stories- one for every genre within the discipline. I learnt a great deal from writing that book- and I still hold it in great affection.

Now, 15 years later, with over 200 stories to my name, including many novellas and novels, including the gratifyingly popular The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (The Fifth Floor, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place), I am still addicted, still hungry for the ‘yes’ of a publisher. Having a back record to your name never guarantees a story will be taken, and nor should it. Each new tale I write has to be worth publication on its own merits; it shouldn’t be published just because KJB wrote it.

Over the past 5 years, I’ve had less time to write erotica as I have been fortunate to have some success with my other pen names (Jenny Kane – contemporary fiction and Jennifer Ash – medieval crime), and I’ve set up a creative writing tutoring business called Imagine, (with my friend and colleague, Alison Knight)

Kay is still here however, and I’m pleased to be able to announce that I’m currently writing a new story, and there will be another anthology before too long (Book Five) in my ‘A Kink a Day

Meanwhile, my Jenny Kane side is now agent-ed, and excitedly awaiting the publication of a new romcom, and Jennifer Ash has finished writing The Folville Chronicles, and is now working on some exciting audio dramas. (Top secret at this time.)

Victoria Blisse, Tabitha Rayne, Kay, and Kd Grace at Eroticon 2019

There are so many people who have helped get me this far. So many friends I’ve made along the way- from the wonderful Brit Babes, to fellow bloggers and writers, to readers and positive sex supporters. I’ve very lucky.

I will end by saying thank you to a few extra special people who’ve helped keep me going on those occasions when the roller-coaster has got stuck at the bottom, or the carousel as jammed on the downward motion.

Kd Grace, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Blisse, Ashley Lister, Renee and the staff of Sh.

I honestly can’t believe I’m still writing everyday, and living the life I love so much.

THANK YOU

Kay xx

 

 

Blog Tour: Finding Space by Queenie Black @queenieblackwr1

Today I’m delighted to welcome Queenie Black to my place as part of her

Hard-Pressed blog tour.

(Look out for the chance to win a copy of the eBook at the bottom of this page)

Over to you Queenie…

I recently found myself thinking about the issue of space.

As the oldest of many, many siblings (more than you can count on one hand) I never had my own room when I was growing up. A brief sojourn at university gave me a room of my own with a pash-killer bed (yes, they really did have beds known as that in the 80’s but I met my soulmate and got married before three years were up.

Thirty years, a shared bedroom and four children later I still don’t have my own physical space in my home. There’re plenty of rooms in the house that I could use now that the chicks have well and truly flown the nest, but I no longer know what to do with physical space. I write in the living room in front of the TV or in bed with the door open where I can hear the goings on in the rest of the house because I don’t like the feeling of being apart and away from the hub of where things happen, away from the living areas. Used to being always on call, (after my children, it was caring for elderly relatives) I feel the need to be available and shutting the world out behind a door makes me incredibly unsettled. I’ve tried writing in the garden shed but I couldn’t bear the sensation of being set apart. It felt like a punishment, not a privilege.

These limitations on having my own space made me realise that for me the ability to find space doesn’t rely on having a writing shed or a craft room or a reading nook. I learnt from early on in my life to be space self-sufficient. In other words, I might have been there physically, but I was elsewhere in my head. I learnt to carve space out in my thoughts while I was doing household chores, or driving to work, or sitting with my family in the evening. I found space in reading while hiding in the boughs of the tree overhanging my neighbour’s yard, or on buses to work, in my breaks. When I couldn’t read, I imagined. I created events and scenarios, characters that took me away to places where I could be alone, breathe, rest or have adventures.

These flights away from the hurly-burly of life are what fueled my imagination and gave me the material to write. They filled wells of creativity but also helped me become more emphatic and able to see other people’s viewpoints. The limitations of physical space throughout my life, have, in fact brought me to here, to the creative person I am today, and I’m pleased and proud of that person.

Doing without has made me able to do within, if you like.

I wanted to explore that a little in Hard-Pressed. Having Lucien take away Rose’s control and provide her with the care and support she needs while she faces her fears gives her a safe emotional space to discover who she can be. To learn what he always knew- that she is strong enough to surrender to her needs without losing herself.

Blurb:

Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.

One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,

One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.

Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `

They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.

***

Excerpt:

I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:

Club Hard

Private Members Only

I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.

I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.

Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.

I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.

I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.

Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.

“Can I help you?”

I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”

He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.

“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.

“May I take your coat?”

I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”

“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”

I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.

A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.

“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.

“Your coat, ma petite.”

I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”

I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”

He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as Monsieur, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.

Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, ma belle perle, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”

Buy links:

Amazon USA: https://amzn.to/2lXpCSP     

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2kswibm  

Evernight:  https://www.evernightpublishing.com/hard-pressed-by-queenie-black/    

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/958783  

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/hard-pressed-18  

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/gb/book/hard-pressed/id1480423303

 ***

Author bio:

I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi.

Social media links:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/queenieblackwr1

Website: http://www.queenieblackauthor.com/

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/queenieblackauthor/

Don’t miss out on your chance to win a copy of Hard Pressed!

GIVEAWAY!

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8b9ec5be192/? 

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

Fifteen Years…and counting

This week sees the 15th anniversary of the first time I wrote some erotica! A fact that, in itself, seems impossible to me – a shy, self-conscious, paranoiac woman who has never quite got used to the fact that people actually want to by her books!

I still maintain that- if that very first story hadn’t been published- I’d never have picked a pen up for fiction creation ever again.

I am particularly fortunate in that, this year, I’m celebrating this anniversary with a trip to Barcelona courtesy of Fetish.com

Much to my surprise, when I was teaching at the Eroticon event last March, I won the 69 seconds competition…the prize being 2 nights in Barcelona. I fly there today!

You could see how I won my prize here-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnTASTDgE3E&feature=youtu.be&has_verified=1 

As with any anniversary, I have found myself reflecting on all that has happened to me ‘writing wise’ over the past decade and a half.

What a roller coaster ride it has been. Or perhaps it’s been more of a carousel, a long roundabout of constant ups and downs, but where, ultimately you always end up back where started, and yet you can’t quite stop the ride to get off…?

My first piece of erotica was a written on a paper serviette in a cafe in Aberdeenshire. I swear the idea came to be from nowhere. I don’t know why I was suddenly thinking about a cross dressing male who liked to have his arse spanked- but that is exactly what happened.

It took some time for me to be brave enough to do anything with the story. It was a couple of weeks before it made it onto a proper piece of paper, and several more before it was typed onto my computer and edited into shape. The amount of courage it took me to look up erotica publishers on the Internet- and the covert way I went about it- seems laughable now.

I sent off my story- which I rather unimaginatively had called Jen and Tim to Cleis Press- never expecting to hear anything again, and in the meantime, I’d written a rather kinky poem called Regrets, which I sent to the much missed Oysters and Chocolate web site. Then, I told myself to leave it alone, to look after my children and take up knitting or something. I never expected to hear back from either publisher. I certainly never expected to get both pieces taken- and I truly never expected the buzz the feeling of acceptance gave me- that was it- I was hooked- an addict to the acceptance of a publisher for the rest of my life!

It took 40 short story and poetry publications before I was brave enough to write something longer, and when I did, I cheated.

The Collector is both an anthology and a short novel- a set of different erotic stories- one for every genre within the discipline. I learnt a great deal from writing hat book- and I still hold it in great affection.

Now, 15 years later, with over 200 stories to my name, including many novellas and novels, including the gratifyingly popular The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (The Fifth Floor, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place), I am still addicted, still hungry for the ‘yes’ of a publisher. Having a back record to your name never guarantees a story will be taken, and nor should it. Each new tale I write has to be worth publication on its own merits; it shouldn’t be published just because KJB wrote it.

Over the past 5 years, I’ve had less time to write erotica as I have been fortunate to have some success with my other pen names (Jenny Kane – contemporary fiction and Jennifer Ash – medieval crime), and I’ve set up a creative writing tutoring business called Imagine, (with my friend and colleague, Alison Knight)

Kay is still here however, and I’m pleased to be able to announce that before the end of 2019, my Fem Dom anthology, Yes Ma’am will be re-edited, recovered, and re-released. As well as this, the next anthology (Book Four) in my ‘A Kink a Day’ series will be released.

Meanwhile, my Jenny Kane side is now agent-ed, and excitedly awaiting the publication of a new romcom, and Jennifer Ash is busy writing the forth of The Folville Chronicles.

As well as this, I’ll have some erotica writing workshops up and running in 2020 – so watch this space!

Victoria Blisse, Tabitha Rayne, Kay, and Kd Grace at Eroticon 2019

There are so many people who have helped get me this far. So many friends I’ve made along the way- from the wonderful Brit Babes, to fellow bloggers and writers, to readers and positive sex supporters. I’ve very lucky.

I will end by saying thank you to a few extra special people who’ve helped keep me going on those occasions when the roller-coaster has got stuck at the bottom, or the carousel as jammed on the downward motion.

Kd Grace, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Blisse, Ashley Lister, Renee and the staff of Sh.

I honestly can’t believe I’m still writing everyday, and living the life I love so much.

THANK YOU

Kay xx

 

 

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