Erotica Versus Porn…

Porn…

- pornography: creative activity (writing or pictures or films etc.) of no literary or artistic value other than to stimulate sexual desire
wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

- Pornography or porn is the depiction of explicit sexual subject matter for the purposes of sexual excitement.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porn

Erotica…

- erotic - giving sexual pleasure; sexually arousing
wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

- Erotic - Eroticism is an aesthetic focus on sexual desire, especially the feelings of anticipation of sexual activity. It is not only the state of arousal and anticipation, but also the attempt through various means to incite those feelings.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erotic

And this - I particularly like and believe the last two lines…

Chris Power ~ http://www.thepowerfamily.demon.co.uk/chris/index.htm

"I've always had a problem defining Porn vs erotica vs romance. Maybe I'm being too simplistic, but if it's wall-to-wall [or floor*g*] sex, with no real attempt at plot or multi-dimensional characterizations, then it's porn. But if it has all the plottiness etc, then it's whatever you want to call it. Either way, you pay your money and take your choice. I don't much like labels, anyhow."

The answer? There is no answer. Its personal perception and belief.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

I have this belief…

…that the most powerful person in a room is the one you don’t notice straight away. They’re usually quietly observing everyone, taking mental notes and sussing out each person. These people are generally average to look at and there’s nothing flashy about the way they dress but when they open their mouths to speak – oh man – look out. They are the most eloquent and fascinating people. And smart? Oh yeah. They use they’re so called ‘average’ looks almost in a chameleon way. You never know what will happen next. These people fascinate me.

Look at Mona. She’s not conventionally beautiful and yet we have been captivated by her for years. What is she thinking behind those eyes and that half smile?

You can have all the beauty in the world but smarts and quick thinking kicks beauty’s arse every time. So, if someone indicates you’re not beautiful take it as a compliment. You have more power than you imagine. Watch, look, listen and learn then when people least expect it make your move. That’s true power.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

Power up...

Over the last week or so I have been noticing men, noticing me. Now, when I say this I must add that although I look at men – well duh – it never occurs to me that they are always looking at me. Why? Well, while I love me a lot, I’m pretty average to look at. I know that – I’m realistic. I’ve been with me a long time….but I still love me…did I mention that? Anyway, so it’s been strange to suddenly notice men looking at me. Actually, I am very much like the heroines I write. They’re always the last to work it out as well…forehead slap…

My obscene phone caller/text message man – see previous blog about this wonderful, sexy nuisance – believes it’s all to do with him. Uh – huh…men – up themselves or what? His theory is that because I am soooooo interested in him, I am naturally giving off some weird pheromone that is attracting men. I see. My question to him was – why do I need you then? You know – if I am suddenly attracting the male of the species – what’s the point of keeping you on? Apparently I just do need him and although I am certainly at liberty to do something with someone else I am not to do it. Hmm…aren’t men cute when they’re out of their depth?

So now, I’m thinking the man looking at my arse in the gym – I saw him in the mirror – this morning was not appalled and unable to drag his eyes away in that way people have when stunned by a train wreck – but may have been looking for other reasons. I’m thinking the gym is working for me – and no, not pheromones-induced-by-another thing but I have to tell you I give him 8 out of 10 for plausible-yet-bullshite story. Why am I telling you all this? Because sometimes the smallest things can lift your spirits when you least expect it. Take a look around…maybe a second look – and perhaps even go for a third - maybe it is you they are looking at. Use that power. Feel good about yourself.

Speaking of power - I saw this clip today at the gym - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-l6cF8IHfk - you gotta love Anastasia…that woman is empowered.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Go Ahead : Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Come hither Friday...

I upset someone at work by breathing today. No, not an unusual occurrence for me. I have the power to upset people within seconds, even at a great distance. But you get that. This current upset was over an envelope that I opened by accident. What’s that? Did I unleash the 12 deadly plagues of Egypt that were contained in the envelope? No. Did I learn where the lost treasure of Atlantis was, therefore destroying another’s chance to find it, when I opened it? No. Did I read a scandalous love letter when I removed the contents? A confession? No and no again. I just opened an envelope by mistake. Remember making those? Anyway, I did offer the individual, who was frothing at the mouth over the ‘envelope incident’, the choice of cutting off one of my fingers as retribution for such a heinous act or a roll of Velcro so she could get a grip. She chose to stomp off. Probably wise. Blood is so hard to clean up and stomping off burns up calories.

I had to ring a company yesterday and got their call centre. No one, as per most call centers knew anything because firstly – they don’t get trained properly and secondly – they don’t give a rat’s arse as they are just there to get paid and to go home. I completely understand that. After explaining that I wanted to speak to a grown up they transferred me to their complaints section. The consultant gave her name and I wrote it down as I do and I asked her location. Why? Because I like to have a trail of who I have spoken to when it comes to stuff so I cannot be fobbed off later. And yes, she could have given me a dodgy location. It happens in call centres. We never gave out our location at Promptel as customers often felt the need to come and take things one step further – kicking in glass front doors and smacking staff members in the head – ah…memories. Anyway the operator told me she was in the Philippines. Uh huh. Yes, I am in Australia. This is an Australian company. I have never agreed with jobs going off-shore. It’s just wrong. Jobs should stay in the country of origin regardless whether it is cheaper to pay someone in another country a pittance for what another operator would do in Australia. But that’s happening all over the world. No surprise there. I often get Bollywood consultants who try and sound Australian to fit in with their market and it just doesn’t work and you spend most of your time hooked in listening to their fake accent rather than what they are saying. No one can really successfully fake another nationality can they? You always know. Only an Aussie can make Gidday mate sound real.

Anyway, this lady turned out to be the most competent customer service operatives I have come across in a long time. She listened, she re-stated my words back to me to let me know she understood and fixed the problem – and she was pleasant to deal with. And you know why I reckon that is? Because the job actually means something to her. It’s important. I think some cultures value the importance of having a job and doing the job to the best of their ability as opposed to ‘there’s plenty of jobs out there I’ll leave this one when it sucks too badly’. I am very good at doing that. Now, I’m not saying all call centres offshore have staff with the same attitude as the lady in the Philippines. They don’t. But it had me re-thinking the whole off-shore jobs thing. I still ideologically don’t fully agree with it but as a consumer I can see the potential. And yes, I asked to speak to her team leader and congratulated him on his staff member as I believe good service deserves recognition.

War Trail by the talented writing team of Terri Beckett and Chris Power is out today at Cerridwen Press. I am in awe of the amount of research these authors put into each and every one of their books and they are bloody good reads. As always, it’s a click on the cover and buy moment.

The excerpt....

“Mother, Kherin wishes to become D’Shael, to seek his name in the Eye of the Sun. But first he must be born to us.”
“Does he, now.” Chiera’s voice was harsh and cold and her pale eyes flashed with anger. Then became hooded, introspective. Slowly an icy amused smile twisted her mouth. “So. The Sword Vow isn’t enough for him and he seeks to bond himself ever closer to us. I wonder why? Not just to ask for Emer Nianre’sdaughter, I’ll wager.” Her smile became a dreadful grimace. “So be it. Tied so close, he’ll share our fate.”

Myra found Kherin grooming Llynivar in the stall behind the hearthhouse, working on the summer-glossy coat with a hay-twist while the horse drooped his head and closed his eyes in bliss. She found a seat in the piled hay, inhaling the sweetness of the herbs and flowers in the mix and waited without impatience for him to finish. Finally he patted the sleek neck, letting the horse lip at his open palm and then turned to Myra, making the hand to brow salute that was her due as priestess.
“The Old One has consented,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“She could find no reason to refuse.”
“Of course not. This is in the pattern, Mother and we are all part of it. Tell me what I must do.”
Little of the ceremony surrounding the rebirth was known to anyone other than the priestesses. Kherin listened in silence, accepting all she told him without demur, which didn’t surprise her.
“In all ways and in all things, let her will be done,” he said calmly. “As you are her priestess, Myra, so I am in your hands for this thing.”
“The Hooded One is also her priestess,” she reminded him and he smiled wryly.
“On Midsummer, at the Grove, she took a lock of my hair. If she wished to do me ill, then she could have worked with it. But I think the Lady has shown her the unwisdom of that.”
“Where she’s concerned, Kherin, I’m no longer certain of how she will act. She wishes you no good, that I do know. But she’ll aid in the ritual as is required. Come now. We have little time and you must be cleansed for the rite.”

Kherin followed the Second Priestess through the Hold to the opening of the caverns and from there, by torchlight, down to the lower levels of the cave complex where the Third waited. He registered only the dark reaches of the cavern, given an illusion of warmth by the torchlight before Chiera stepped before the altar on its island and greeted him with a brusque “When did you eat last?”
He blinked. “During the Council, when Rythian had bread and ale brought. You were there, Old Mother.”
“Don’t be impertinent with me, boy,” she snapped. “You will fast now, eating and drinking only what we give you, until such time as the Lord has shown you your name—or not, as he chooses. Strip him, Daughter—he will come from the Mother naked, as do we all.”
He gave his kilt and sleeveless shirt into Myra’s hands, standing clad only in torchlight and the bracelet of the Sword Sworn. That he would not remove and both priestesses tactfully ignored it. Myra took his hands and began to lead him around the pool that surrounded the altar and joined her voice to Chiera’s.
“We call on the powers of the air that gives breath, of fire that warms us, of the earth beneath us and the water that is life. Air, fire, earth and water, witness this death and this rebirth.”
Welcome, child of mine.
He felt himself smile, felt the familiar presence enfold him, his feet becoming light, his body weightless in the Lady’s embrace. Myra drew him to where a spur of rock jutted into the water.
“Do you offer yourself to the Lady freely and of your own will?” she demanded. “She who knows the secrets of all hearts knows your mind.”
“I am hers,” Kherin said firmly. “As I have ever been, her servant and her sacrifice.” From her expression, he realized that last was not in the ritual.
“So be it,” she murmured and made a sign on his brow with her thumb. “Go to her now and may you be reborn from her.”
Chiera gestured him forward. As he stepped into the chill of the water, it seemed that a breath of air moved over the surface. I am the wind that moves on the water, I am the fire of creation, I am the fertile earth… He moved forward and the floor shelved steeply beneath him. Kherin let the water take him, closing over his head.
My child, my lover, Beloved, my self…
There was solid rock under his feet. As he broke water, Myra cried out, the wail of a woman in travail as the infant leaves her womb and Chiera’s bony hand reached out to bring him before the altar. Three candles burned there and a cup and platter lay between them.
“Child of Anu, eat of her body, the food brought forth to sustain life, drink of her blood, of the milk of her breast.”
Bannock sweetened with honey, milk mixed with barley-spirit. Wrapped in the ecstasy that was the presence of his Lady, he took a mouthful of the food and wet his lips with the drink, needing nothing more.
“You are D’Shael, now,” Chiera said. “Blood and bone, body and soul.” He heard the venom of her thought, Much good may it do you…
It did not signify. Still uplifted, he followed Myra from the cavern, up into the world again.

It was full dark when Kherin emerged. The moon was fully risen, the stars pricking the night sky. Below, in the space between Sun Hall and Elder Hall, was a mass of torchlight where the people waited. Where Rythian would be waiting. He drew a deep breath.
“Come, my son. For my son you are now, given to me by the Lady.” Myra took his hand. “Let us go down. Your hearth awaits you.”

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Not dead....just floating....

On feral library computer...ISP company sucks...still off line but hopefully tomorrow, all things being equal I will be back up...what an embuggerance.

What Defines a Woman?

Author Chris Power swung by to share some thoughts with us today…

What Defines a Woman?

Is it our bodies? Our hormones? What goes on between our ears or between our legs? Or a nicely balanced mix of all of it, plus that little bit of something indefinable?

I ask, because something Kelly Kirch blogged about today reminded me of some thing that happened to me some years ago.

I had to go for a biopsy on my right breast because a mammogram showed an anomaly. My friends and family rallied round the way they do when something that might be dire hovers on the horizon. But after the initial heart-stopping scare, I wasn't bothered. I knew I didn't have cancer. I quite clearly heard this voice in my head telling me so. Not, "I don't have cancer," but, "You don't have cancer."

"Okay," I thought back. "Thanks for letting me know."

"How do you stay so calm," one of my friends said. "I couldn't take it if I were you, the thought of maybe losing a breast is horrifying, I wouldn't feel like a proper woman any more and my hubbie won't find me attractive."
So I smiled sweetly and told her about my voice. Inside I was angry. But I couldn't show it because a while ago my friend had an accident that left a large hollow scar on the outer side of her thigh that she felt was disfiguring. So much so she could no longer be naked in front of her husband with the lights on. I tried to point out as delicately as I could that I was not defined by my boobs, nor was I any less a woman because I'd had a hysterectomy a few years previously [one of the best decisions of my life, but that's another story], but my friend wouldn't listen. She is also dreading the menopause for the same reason, because she believes a useless womb is the same as having one removed--she won't be a proper woman and she will no longer be attractive. It isn't vanity on her part. She is tall, lovely, with long straight naturally blonde hair, she's intelligent, has a high-powered job and her husband adores her. Yet in spite of that--or maybe because of it--she seems massively insecure.

Nor was she the only one of my female friends who said something similar, both then and earlier when I opted for the hysterectomy. Virtually all of them expressed the same opinion, with varying degrees of pity for the situation I might find myself facing. I was very much in the minority.

"I'm Me," I told them over and over, "and I'm a woman." But I couldn't get through to them that 'Me' is defined by what goes on inside my head, regardless of whether I have a functioning womb or not, both breasts or no breasts.

Much as I love and appreciate men, my life does not revolve around their approval or otherwise of the way I look. After all, no woman is put on this earth just to be a decoration on the arm of a man and to bear his children. Having said that, I'm no Helen of Troy. Maybe if I was as lovely as my friend I might think differently. But I very much doubt it.

As an end-note, the anomaly turned out to be tiny grains of calcium in my breast tissue that may or may not have turned malignant over time. As it was, the Doc at the Cancer Clinic took them out with the biopsy probe and I've had no more anomalies since.

One man’s opinion…game soul that he is…

I read somewhere that 95% of women are dissatisfied with their bodies in some way. This would be all well and good if you kept your neurosis to yourself, but unfortunately, it creeps over into our territory with comments like “I can’t stand for you to see me naked” no matter how much we reassure that the sight of you really is enticing and wonderful. Yes we like the female form – that said, one of the most attractive features on a woman is when she is confident with the body she has - with or without a breast or womb. Confidence covers a tremendous amount of blemishes and flaws (which we probably didn’t notice in the first place until you pointed them out).

Daren Martin, PhD

Amarinda opinion…

I applaud Chris’ words. No woman is a pair of breasts or a set of ovaries. What I think defines a woman is the indomitable spirit to nurture, to survive and to endure the crap she is faced with. It’s her hormones, her wit and her words – and the obvious fact she doesn’t have a penis and she can multi-skill. As for Dr Daren’s words, thank you and well said Doc – but I have to disagree on one point- no woman is ever going to be happy with their body and I don’t believe it’s a bad thing to be brave enough to admit your fears. I also think the odd neurosis keeps us human – and hell, why not share them with those that want to love you?

Got an opinion or a story you want to share on this subject? Feel free to comment. Also if you are due to have a mammogram – make sure you bloody have one. Breast cancer caught early is curable.

Want to know more about Chris Power and her great books? Check out http://chrisvpower.spaces.live.com/ and http://www.thepowerfamily.demon.co.uk/chris/index.htm
Want to know more about Dr Daren and what he does? Check out www.DarenMartin.com

Tribute Trail by Terri Beckett and Chris Power - coming 27th March from Cerridwen Press

Trained all his life to serve the will of the Great Goddess, Kherin is her Chosen, her warrior, mage and priest. The prophecy at his birth told of great things. Betrayed by one he trusted, given to be a slave to a barbarian lord, when he learns his goddess’s purpose, he finds it hard to obey.

Rythian, having challenged for the leadership of his tribe and won, is forced to put the future of his people before Syth his beloved wife, and extended family, refuses to let his sacrifice be for nothing. With enemies on the borders of his land threatening invasion and enemies within the tribe working against him, Rythian has no time for the whims of deities. He fights his god’s intent every step of the way.

Two very different men, both warriors, both chosen by the gods and brought together to be forged in the fires of betrayal and conflict.
Aided by family and friends, they must learn trust and friendship so they can combat their enemies and become weapons for their gods to wield.

Dark Waters by Chris Quinton released 28th March from Ellora's Cave

Flein is a wanderer by instinct and need, roaming the known world as the fancy takes him.

In the Highland village of Glenfinnan, women have been raped and brutally murdered. The killer is a waterhorse, a monstrous shapeshifter by all accounts. But when Flein meets Donnchadh, first in its equine form, then its man-shape, he knows the waterhorse is innocent.

As they hunt for the real murderer, Flein reluctantly becomes more and more drawn to the handsome shapeshifter. Donnchadh, though wary, shares the same attraction.

But time is against them. They must find the killer before more women die, but then suspicion is turned on them and the hunters have become the hunted.

I will be back to waffle on about the amazingness of nothingness tomorrow. Until then please refer to www.annycook.blogspot.com and www.kkirch.blogspot.com to see what they are plotting.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

You can hold my intestines anytime….

Seducing Celestine - Review

On a cold wintry night while stuck in doors sometimes you just need to do something fun. Seducing Celestine turned my cold evening into one filled with laughter and heat. Celestine is the epitome of a quirky heroine, full of spunk, oddball behavior and is a total sexpot in bed. Her duel with Nick over the possibility that their relationship is more than just sex was a pleasure to enjoy. As always, the male lead in the story, Nick, is a happy-go-lucky guy who knows what he wants, knows when to push and when to step back and let his woman figure things out on her own. I’ve become a rabid fan of Amarinda Jones and her outback dialogue which, for me, adds something special to her stories. Stories which are already dynamic to begin with seem to jump off the pages and snatch you into them. I’ve come to expect a great time when reading one of her stories and she’s yet to disappoint. I think if more people smiled and laughed when it came to enjoying each other relationships would be better for it. So, if you’re looking for a story that can provide some warm fuzzy feelings on a cold winter night you can’t go wrong by picking up a copy of Seducing Celestine.

http://joyfullyreviewed.com/reviews/RRs/Jan08RR/SeducingCelestine.AJ.html

Like any normal person, I hate, loath and despise cleaning. Puke. Spew. But in the eternal quest to de-junkify my life - (my editor is having a nervous twitch for sure at that word. Hmmm, should I use it in a book?) - I cleaned up the 3rd bed-come-chuck-stuff-you-have-no-idea-what-to-do-with room. Last week I cleaned up under the house-type-storeroom area. It is a thing of beauty now. I swear that the blue tongue lizards have a smile on their faces as they skitter through.

The third bedroom - what can I say? If pirates needed somewhere to bury treasure they would do it there. If a burglar broke into this room first he would probably sue me for lack of opportunity to find anything. Criminals on the run have my third bedroom listed as a potential hide out. But the thing is there is some useful stuff in there. I have an amazingly impressive assortment of medical supplies. If there was a major catastrophe I believe I could quite easily set up a hospital at Chez Amarinda. My mother was a nurse. She believed in being prepared for anything. I have learned from her practical wisdom. I have all manner of bandages for thumbs to bums. I have Army wound packs (ex-Army brat), I have salves, lotions, potions, swabs and saline solution -and I know how to use them. Not only did I learn from my mother but I did a first aid course years ago. It was there that I was awarded the sort of praise that every woman longs to hear at least once in their life. During the assessment, my instructor said, “You are the sort of woman who would be excellent holding in someone’s intestines at a road accident.” I naturally, as you do, went all girlish at this praise. Beauty fades but the ability to cope with intestines in a crisis goes on forever.

Anyway off guts….I have all the family history documents in the third bedroom along with an old lime green 1970’s sofa I like, three sewing machines, a mini haberdashery store, fans, heaters, fat clothes, thin clothes, boxes of pilfered stationery, things I may possibly repair, important files, 7 jars of old buttons (I’m not sure why either), a ladder, an amazing collection of 1930’s table runners, 2 big old tin trunks full of fabric, 4 old mobile phones, 2 1950’s laundry hampers full of assorted crap,12 big arsed candles from the 1970’s and a box of stuff I'm still not sure what it is other than there are a lot of wires, bits of plastic and paper things. I'm sure at the time there was an excellent reason to keep it. After cleaning up, I can actually walk in without stumbling or cracking my shin against stuff. Did I throw anything out…er, well, no but cleaning and not throwing out had been the aim. Tomorrow, I will venture into the second bedroom because there is the promise of alcohol in the evening to calm my nerves. Cleaning is pukeable but unfortunately necessary. I don’t cook either – I mean I can but I prefer not to. I would have made a terrible housewife. Cooking requires too much time and thought and cleaning up. This is I believe why takeaway food containers were invented. I feel its best not to disturb the natural order of things – we can’t have the cosmos spinning out of control now can we?

Miscellaneous Amarinda News….

I got a contract from Ellora’s Cave on a book called Anyone But You. Yay me. I also sent another submission in. I had been writing like a woman possessed during the couple of weeks I have been looking for the job. I am a great believer in using time productively. Speaking of jobs – after much haggling, I accepted job 27. I know my self worth and I know what I should be paid and what conditions I will accept. Yes, I am a pain in the bum and I am sure much sighing and eye rolling went on their end with the haggling but if I do not fight for me no one else will? So I start that on Monday. Is there a job 28 looking on the horizon? Possibly? Who knows? I believe in taking a risk if something better presents itself.

Just finished reading…

Nettleflower by Chris Power and Terri Beckett – great historical romance. http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419908149
Winter Hearts by Anny Cook – hot, funny and romantic sex as only Anny Cook can.
http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419913723

Mad About Mirabelle - review

Oh yummy, yummy! Mad About Mirabelle is a story that starts with a bang and just keeps getting better and better. I loved Mirabelle’s smart-alecky mouth and her unashamed snooping. She’s bowled over by Flynn and his sexual aggressiveness but willingly explores their relationship, especially as Flynn reveals the depth of his feelings. While some may think their relationship progressed too rapidly, for Flynn and Mirabelle, it seemed just right. Flynn’s character was straightforward and sexy as all get out. Once he decided he was Mad About Mirabelle, there was no stopping him! Their deliciously sexual escapades along with the twists and turns in this tale had me drooling, laughing and completely enjoying Mad About Mirabelle!
http://sensual.ecataromance.com/index.php?p=435

Kelly had the next spine tingling-oh-my-god episode of the blog serial on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. Anny will no doubt download the wisdom of the ages on www.annycook.blogspot.com as only she can.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?