28 January 2006

The Rauxa, Chocolate and Cataloguing

The Rauxa Prize for erotic writing carries an award of $1,000, given annually for an erotic short story of exceptional literary quality. This year it's been awarded to Mike Kimera, a regular contributor to ERWA for his short story Writing Naked: Letters to Myself. Mike is a terrifc writer and to see more of his work, go over to the Treasure Chest pages at ERWA. Congratulations Mike!

I mentioned here that I was addicted to chocolate and have to keep away from it. Much to my horror a new chocolate shop has opened up near me. I had to buy some and they're gorgeous. Blue Mountains Chocolate Company. I'm in trouble now.

I'm up to 300 books in The Library Thing. Lots to go. I had no idea I had so many books. But the person with the most in the data base as more than 8,000. Since I'll be moving house soon, I'm very glad I don't have that many.

26 January 2006

Found treasures

The Library Thing catalogue experience has resulted in me finding a whole lot of books I'd forgotten about. I haven't read any poetry for ages. Leafing through some makes me realised how much I've missed. Here is one of my favourites from Robert Hayden an American poet who died in 1980.

Those Winter Sundays
by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

* * *
And here's one from Rosemary Dobson an Australian poet.

Empty Spaces
by Rosemary Dobson

We never could walk then
Unimpeded, direct,
Through the furnished rooms
Of the house we lived in.

Cupboard and shelf
Stubbornly blocked us
We went zig-zag
By chairs and tables.

And where to put down
The children to sleep
Cots heaped over
With books and clothing?

Now the children are flown
And you, oh you
Who were always with me,
You, gone, too,

I can cross this room
From any direction
To the single chair
The single bed.

Library Thing

Over at Sara Donati's blog, she's done a few posts on Library Thing a site where you can catalogue your books. I've just started really getting into it and it's become a bit addictive. This is my catalogue. I've only got 49 books done so far. I think I'll devote a little time each day to putting books in. I'm hoping it will be a good exercise in making me decide which books can stay and which can go. But I've set up a little thingy on the sidebar that shows you what I'm reading now. Nora Roberts for comfort and David Foster Wallace to be challenged. Gail Jones is a West Australian writer (and terrific teacher apparently) and Sixty Lights was a Miles Franklin Award Finalist. Of these the most tactile book is Kate Llewellyns. Its buff and cream with a drawing of an autumn leaf on it, but of course it's the one book I couldn't find a decent image of. She's an Australian poet and author of some wonderful memoirs of creating gardens.

Today is Australia Day, so it's a public holiday and I have tomorrow off too. It's wet and misty where I am, so it looks like a day of reading, writing and entering books in the catalogue. No wait! Some sun! Maybe some gardening too.

24 January 2006

Regency Romance Quiz

A little bit of frivolity to entertain. So if I was a regency heroine I'd be at home in an Amanda Quick or a Loretta Chase novel. I can live with that.


Oh dear, you are Bookish, aren't you? You are a
highly intelligent and witty bluestocking,
whose beauty is hidden behind spectacles.
Your dress sense is eccentric and a little
unfashionable, and you consider yourself
plain. You have very little use for men, who
find your knowledge of Shakespeare, interest
in politics and forthright speech formidable.
You are undoubtedly well-off. The only
reason for your presence in a novel of this
kind (which, I might add, you would not dream
of reading, although you have occasionally
enjoyed the works of Miss Austen), is your
mother, who is absolutely determined that you
will make a good marriage. Rather than
defying her directly, you are quietly
subversive, dancing with anyone who asks you,
but making no attempt to hide your
intellectual interests. The only person who
can get past your facade is the man who is
witty enough to spar with you, and be amused
at your blatant attempts to scare your
suitors away. While you will, no doubt,
subject him to a gruelling cross-examination
to find out whether his respect for your
intelligence is real or mere flattery, you
may be sure that he is your match, and that
you, he AND your mother will all live happily
ever after

The Regency Romance Quiz: What kind of Romance Heroine are you?

22 January 2006

Aussie Romance Writers

I'm part of a group blog! Here's the link. Come and visit.

20 January 2006

The Lust for Books

Isn't this a great picture? I got it from a post at Booklust. It's part of an exhibition at The Israel Museum. And I thought I had an out of control TBR pile.

Writing continues to be hard at the moment. My short term plan is to finish this novella that seems to be crushing and grinding it's way out of my psyche and then write some short stories. I haven't written any for a while and I need the sense of completion.

11 January 2006

Heat Wave

On New Years Day in Sydney it got up to 45C. That's about 113F. It was hot. Even were I live, which is a cool climate part of Oz west of Sydney, it was a scorcher. So I wrote this, wanting the ice not the sex.

Heat Wave

(c) Keziah Hill

Ice cubes slide down her breasts, catch on her nipples, melt. His tongue there, hot, with sharp teeth, pulling. His mouth now fully open, sucks on her whole breast, drawing it in. Her nipple pushes against the bony roof of his mouth, behind his teeth. He pulls away and slides another ice cube around her nipple. Takes it away and flicks her crinkled, pink skin with his tongue. Ice, tongue, ice, tongue.

She wants the ice between her legs; in the crease where thigh meets her body; in the curve from thigh to buttock; where ever skin folds on skin. His fingers are cold when he pushes them in and she sighs with relief. It is short lived.

Her hips move against his fingers taking them deeper. She opens herself wide, laughing at the squelching sound of her moisture. Heat pours down her belly into her cunt, igniting his fingers as they thrust, wet and slick, into her slippery, searing opening. She is so wet his fingers slide off her clit, unable to keep up the friction.

He moves over her and she moans, wanting his cock inside her but not his skin against her. He kneels between her legs, pushes them wide and slowly inches his way in. She is so hot she wonders if this was a good idea after all.

"The ice," she murmurs and he scoops up a hand full to splay across her belly. Stretching across her, he thrusts, the ice between their bodies rapidly melting.

"Quick," she mutters, wrapping her legs around him. "Before it disappears."

His cock feels like it's on fire inside her and she can see sweat pouring down his face, dripping onto her breasts. There are still a few icy patches between them and her nipples are sharp against his slick, slippery chest.

An ice cube slides down between them, resting in her bush. She holds it there as he thrusts in, feeling the cold as a blessed relief. As he comes, she laughs again.

"What?" he mutters, pulling out of her with a plopping sound. The bed is drenched with water. He collapses beside her.

"That was the last of the ice."

"Shit. You know what that means?"

"No gin and tonics."

"I hate summer."

06 January 2006

Laying Down the Law

I'm absolutely delighted and humbled that my story Laying Down the Law is now in the Treasure Chest and the Erotica Readers and Writers' Association. If you want to write erotica the best place to go is ERWA. As well as some great stories from people like Kathleen Bradean , remittance girl and Mike Kimera it's a great resource for writers. You can join the email crit list and get great feedback and suggestions on your work, or you can join the writers' elist and chatter away on writing related issues.

04 January 2006

I'm thinking about goals and achievements at the moment. It's a New Year thing to do. Most writers will say their main goal is to write more and I'm no different. That's my aim. But I'd like to write without fear. Or more correctly, I'd like to write out the fear. I don't think I'll ever be a person without fear, but finding some way to integrate it into my life so it doesn't dominate would be ideal.

One of my biggest fears is getting a third of a way into a manuscript and realising I don't know what comes next. It happens when I don't plan and start writing before I know what I'm doing. But if I don't start writing I can't get a grip on the action and the characters. So I freeze. Instead of using this third of the mss as a weaving into the tale, I become too committed to it and can't let it go. And it often needs to be discarded. I find that painful. But if that's the process, then that's the process.

This year I want to learn more about, and play around with, plot and structure. These are my two anxieties so I need to do something about them. I'm doing some online courses, (one over at Kiss of Death, the mystery and suspense chapter of RWAm) and read some more. Both craft books and analytical reading. I'm going to sit down with a highlighter and note book and go through some of my favourite writers to find out how they structure.

My biggest goal which seems so pathetic when I consider it, is to get up every morning at 5.15am and write for two hours without first checking my email. I can't tell you how hard I find this. Any suggestions?

02 January 2006


I love chocolate. But I have to keep away from it because I'm a true addict. Eating a whole large block in one sitting is not impossible for me. I'm not the sort of person who can have one piece and then put it away to come back to later. No, no, if I do that it calls to me from the cupboard. So I've learnt, to my sorrow, I have to keep away from it.

I think there are two types of chocolate people. One loves the 70-80% dark cocoa chocolate that can give you a caffeine hit with one piece, and the other loves the creamy, sweet, sensuous experience of chocolate in your mouth. I'm one of them. I love milk and white chocolate, which of course, the chocolate purists deny is chocolate at all.

Knowing my love of chocolate, a friend gave me some for Christmas not realising I'm a reformed addict (yeah, sure) and have seen the light. My heart sank a bit when I saw the packet, because I knew I'd be unable to resist it. But when I opened it and saw it was dark chocolate, I thought I'd be safe. I can resist dark chocolate because I don't experience the same pleasure of that sweet, smooth, totally comforting feel of melting chocolate in my mouth. It must be related to some oral phase of babyhood.

The chocolate my friend gave me was from New Zealand and I have to say, it almost made me hooked on dark chocolate. Lime and chilli chocolate. It was an explosion of taste in my mouth. First I could only taste some fairly restrained sugar, then the lime kicked in and then the chilli. Woaw! Schoc Chocolates. You can get them in NZ and a couple of places in Australia. From their web site they also do some New Age stuff with chocolate therapy but you can ignore all that. I'd kill for some of their white and cardamom chocolate.

The best chocolate shop in the whole world though, is Belle Fleur at Rozelle in Sydney. They are stunning. If you go to their web site you'll see pictures of chocolates with white tops and a tiny design of bars of music. Divine.

I will be strong. I will be strong.

Happy New Year!