Tag Archives: jade a waters

Guest Blogger Jade A. Waters Gives Us The Reward!!!

I am so honored to be here today! First, it’s such a treat to get to visit the lovely F. Leonora, especially with her incredible cheers and notes of encouragement to, like, everyone in the writing community. She is a superstar and I have never been more grateful to know such a sweet person! But today, it gets even better—because Leonora has honored me beyond belief in celebration of the release of the last book in the Lessons in Control series, The Reward

See, our dear F. has long been enthusiastic over my poetry habit. Because of this, I’ve always been eager to not only talk about flow and verse with her, but to share poetry connected to book one, The Assignment, like I did back at the launch of the series. But today, fantastic Leonora has paid the biggest, most hugest of honors to me.

She wrote a poem for the Lessons In Control series!

 

bottle

you’re like a mist

the thin film of you invisible

tactile to the flesh

an ache from your aura

this desire i fell over every crevice

nothing untouched

that burns me up inside

there is always a fever

deep in my

core

you reach in so deep where you

touch

i cannot quench myself

i need you all of you to slip

into me like i am the

bottle that contains you as a

genie

you are magic

hidden as a mist but

everywhere upon

me

 

That’s right, guys. Right here, you get to see Leonora’s verse. Yes! What I particularly love about this poem—besides the fact that she wrote it inspired by my series and sent a picture of it to me in its early form written in her beautiful cursive—is that it really captures the feeling between Maya and Dean throughout the series. Theirs is a passionate, deep, intense love that is fueled by their sultry sexual dynamic, and I can’t get over how beautifully Leonora sprung off that to write her poem. When Maya and Dean meet in book one, The Assignment, Maya is compelled to find out more about Dean…and by the time we get to The Reward, out now, they are both deep in their sexy relationship with no signs of giving up their D/s exploration. I had such a blast writing this series, and now having Leonora write a poem inspired by it? Hot damn. That’s better than any fan fiction I can think of!

So, let’s give a round of applause to Leonora for writing this sexy poem and for sharing it here today. I have no doubt you’d find it as delicious as I did! Thanks for the tribute, Leonora!!

Speaking of sultry, Jade is a frequent guest–read her previous guest posts here. Can’t get enough of Jade? Go visit her blog!

The Reward is out now!!! Reward yourself, and get your copy here! You can also get the first two Lessons in Control books on sale now!!!

 

 

Jade A. Waters Gives Us Well Deserved Discipline!!

First there was The Assignment, and now there is The Discipline! I am always happy to invite my friend Jade A. Waters on my blog because she is AWESOME! Even before I knew Jade, she was an inspiration to me. And with the completion of this series, I am in complete awe of her because she is the real deal–and she writes like a dream! Unless you have been under a rock, I cannot imagine that you do not know what a brilliant and beautiful writer Jade is! But it is not beneath me to initiate you into the world that is Jade’s, with an excerpt from her latest!!!

Excerpt from The Discipline, by Jade A. Waters:
“I’m dying to know more of what you’ve got planned,” I said.
“Mmm. Good.” The gravelly sound of his voice hastened my pulse. We were almost nine months in, closer, stronger, well versed in this magical game between us, yet the gravid atmosphere of the room bristled with an all new energy in the time it took Dean to lead me into the lounge area before stopping me beside one of the couches. “Because I have many things in mind.”
My knees wobbled beneath me, my chest lifting in sync with the speeding of my breath. Sparks burst along my spine and spread through the base of my skull as he stepped in front of me and sat on the arm of the couch. “Will you share? What do I have to do to earn my rewards?”
Dean lifted his fingers up to his neck to loosen the tie he’d worn. His gaze was so heavy I clenched my knees together. “For every thing we do, every test, you’ll get a reward.”
Test. God, I loved the things he said to me. I didn’t move, keeping my hands flush against my sides while he unfastened his top button. With his tie askew, the top of his chest exposed and that magnificent light in his eyes, I was amazed the clank of my heart hadn’t deafened me yet.
“Whatever fantasy you want, Maya, it’s yours.”
He remained still, the picture of confident, sexy and in control that I loved. I’d gotten used to every side of him, including the scruffy and relaxed version that tied me up while he wore something as simple as jeans and a T-shirt. But dressed up and debonair, the drawl of his words and the casual sling of his body shot a current of lust through my veins.
“What’s my first test?”
“You pick your poison.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Get everything we brought,” he said, tilting his head toward our bags. “Lay it all out. Pick the one—the ones—you want tonight. But…” he paused, one hand caressing my waist, “…the condition is that whatever you pick must include some way for me to bind you.”
I pressed my hands tighter to my thighs, somehow knowing it was better to wait, no matter how much I ached to scurry about and make it start. I needed his touch, his command.
Dean’s fingers slipped along my hips, squeezing me once before he dug his thumbs into my hip bones. When I moaned, he said, “Let’s go, naughty girl.”
My heels felt unsteady as I crossed over to our things, Dean doing nothing but sitting in place to watch. I picked up the cinch bag I’d repacked before dinner, then rummaged in his suitcase for the bag he tended to carry our things in. The mass of them both in my arms was heavy, and I clutched them to my chest while I walked back to Dean. After I set the bags beside the glass coffee table, I kicked off my shoes and dropped to my knees to better spread everything across its surface.
“How are you so damn good?” Dean stepped up behind me, one hand curving under my chin to make my groin flex. His presence against me, grazing my shoulder as I started pushing each piece around, made it difficult to contain my breath. But this test was sexy. I arranged everything like it was meant to be on display in a gallery; first I laid out Dean’s black rope, then the coil of burgundy rope I’d brought. Next the vibrator, lube and flogger, this last piece taking up a whole corner of the table on its own. In his bag I also found the bed straps we often used at his place. After that, I lowered the leather cuffs to the table.
Dean ran his fingers through my hair, stroking the long strands from the root and down as far as he could reach. “We’ll need more in time, but we’ve got a good little selection going, don’t we?”
The heat steamrolling my body almost made me scream when Dean gave my hair a firm tug to tilt my head up. He was grinning.
And I was wet.
“We do.”
“So what’s your pick, beautiful?”
I reached for the cuffs first. Dean groaned.
“Exquisite. You look extraordinary with those around your wrists.”
I curled my toes in the carpet, then pitched over the table. My hand floated over the rope, a purposeful tease before I looked up at Dean and shifted my hand above the flogger. This time, I grinned. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and Dean gave my hair another tug.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I want to try it.”
He was the breathless one now, and it turned me on even more—how bright his eyes were, how, for a moment, he couldn’t keep his calm.
“But…I want more,” I said.
Dean wet his lips as I laid my hands on both the vibrator and the lube.
“I want you to fuck my ass after.”
“Is that your fantasy tonight, sexy?” He twisted my hair in his hand, the pressure firm on my scalp. “How you’d like to come?”
I resisted his hold to swing my head up and down, the move exciting us both, and once Dean drew me into his arms, his body pressed hot to mine. When I started to drag my hands up his back, he pushed them behind me. From the opening in his shirt, I smelled the hint of amber on his skin over his masculine, natural scent. In his embrace I already felt myself falling before his mouth drifted closer to mine.
            “Whatever you want is yours.”
The Discipline, book two of Lessons in Control, available now!
Find Jade here:

Jade’s Website

Twitter

Facebook

Tumblr

Guest Blogger Jade A. Waters Gives Me the Best Assignment Ever!!!

I am practically lachrymose posting this piece, because I am sooooooooo very proud of my friend Jade A. Waters! Unless you have been living under a rock, you know that her amazing first book, The Assignment in her new series has been released. To see Jade’s star shine like this makes my hear glow! She was one of the first friends I made in this community, and I love her to bits and pieces. I love having her as a guest, and to be privileged to be part of her book tour is beyond humbling.

Jade is the real deal, a writer and poet extraordinaire and, and…well here is Jade!!!

Hi everyone! I am so excited to be here today—and I’m sending a giant thank you full of juicy kisses to the generous F. Leonora for having me over! As many of you are probably aware, F. is one of the sweetest supporters of our genre—and on the entire planet—so I was tickled she invited me to stop by to talk about my new release, The Assignment. Thanks, F!

Now, our lovely host left the door open for what I should discuss today, and since the two of us often talk about poetry on the social media circuit, I thought I’d spend some time focusing on flow. I mean this in two ways. One, in a writerly sense—as in, the style we each use in choosing our words and pouring sentences on the paper in the formation of a cohesive whole. For me, the second manner sweeps fairly naturally in and out of the first, in that I have a bit of a watery world obsession that keeps sneaking its way out into my stories.

Let me back up a bit—I’m still not sure if it’s because I took too many emotional walks under a downpour of rain as a teen, or that we should blame it on a last name of Waters, but I’ve long had an obsession with watery environments. I’ve lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for almost twenty-five years, which means I’ve had my fair share of exposure to coastlines, piers, beaches, and pretty much anything to do with life this near the ocean’s edge. Having spoken before on how important building the setting of The Assignment within the Bay Area was to me, the essence of our near water life of course had to make its way into the story. How could it not? We have views of majestic bridges over churning spans of the Bay, coastlines on which one can take a contemplative walk, calming beaches so easy to get to, marina life at our many docks and ports, the perfect (and moderate) sprinkling of rain in the winter months and in general, all this water, water everywhere.

And we mustn’t forget the tides. They affect so much—flooding parts of our freeways and cities at lower elevations after all—but they are beautiful nonetheless. I guess I’ve always considered the rise and fall of tides much like love; it’s a crashing wave sweeping in and overpowering everything beneath it at times, and yet, a wondrously slow, retreating roll at others, leaving remnants and bits (good and bad) in its wake. I wanted that tidal churn to serve as a backdrop to the romance between Maya Clery, the heroine of The Assignment, and her romantic lead, Dean Sova. Sure, they live in this watery area—but as I worked, I envisioned the rise and fall of tides as a sort of quiet echo of their budding romance and D/s dynamic. In some moments, it’s heavy and intense, a dance of sexual play between them. But at others, it can just as easily be a gentle caress or sweet, soft words they share.

Pulling it back to the craft level—while the two of them are actively engaged in their play together, I, too, am playing with my words. I love stories that ebb and flow, prose that draws you in and cocoons you in details rich enough to let you feel sensations as the characters do. It can be the smell of the salty air, the sound of the waves, the view of the crests rolling up on to a sandy shore—I want it to envelope you as deeply as the swell of their romance, or the anticipation and tension in their sexual encounters. This desire might be thanks to many years of writing poetry, which started as a way to address a gush of feelings I didn’t know how to say aloud. But with rhythm and pacing so important in verse, I found that when I’d immerse myself in writing a scene between Maya and Dean, the words had to dance for me like the couple did. Each action had a purpose, each snippet of dialogue had to further the connection, and every movement needed to flow into one cohesive whole. No scene can be a mass of prose, or all dialogue, just as it can’t be a repetition of short staccato sentences or excessively long ones. They must work together, dance together, as if swirling around to create a symphony of expression.

I am continually learning and growing as I write more and more. Hell, just through the course of the entire Lessons in Control series, I’ve found myself challenging and morphing how I write, playing with patterns, words, and styles. But no matter how I change it up, I like to hold on to a lyrical feel in the moments I can. Erotica is, after all, focused on a sexy, smooth act—and I like the words to follow a similar course.

All right. That’s enough technique mumbo jumbo for one day, don’t you think? I might have gotten a little swept away. 😉 But, since I’ve mentioned all the poetry, I’d like to wrap up with “Earth,” something I’ve posted in the past on my poetry site. This particular poem was inspired when I took a jog along a coastline near my house (much like the heroine of The Assignment, Maya Clery, often does). I kept envisioning a scene near the end of the book that she shares with Dean beneath the rain and on the coastline. It’s a highly emotional scene—one of my favorites, actually—and somehow this poem popped out in their honor. If I could build a poetry-track rather than a soundtrack for The Assignment, “Earth” would definitely kick off the album:

EARTH

We lie here, together
One with this earth
Bodies writhing,
Chests pressed
Arms stretching in soil,
We seek to grab anything,
Clawing into ground.
Muddied and sore,
Our fingers lace, tight—
Mine are yours
Yours are mine
And your kisses
Take my cheeks, my lips,
Shocking like raindrops
That tumble down from
The murky sky.

As we fuck, the dirt
Spreads, surrounds,
Hugs the grind of our hips
The arch of my back,
The dig of my heels
On this sandy shore.
Ours are desperate groans
That sway and hum;
They are the sweep of waves
Filling the universe
With an infinite, noisy lust.
For this, we press on,
Our hunger that of the dirtied—
Wanting, bearing down;
Together in this soil
We are one.

There is a tremor
Earth-shattering
A cry that fills our ears,
Rattles our souls
And we shudder in this caress.
This is closeness,
Us
But our need is harder,
Heavier,
Sweaty and raw
We are lost
In this feral clutch,
Longing to be closer
To be deeper, and part
Of the very earth
On which we grind.

I hope you have enjoyed both “Earth” and my musings on flow today. You’ll find much of the watery life in The Assignment, as well as later books in the Lessons in Control series, and while that certainly isn’t the focus of the story, I do hope it’ll sweep you in and that you’ll catch yourself floating alongside their relationship as you follow their tale.

Until then, happy reading to all, and a tremendous thank you to F. Leonora for hosting me today!

XX,

Jade

Jade A. Waters is an erotica author and poetess in sunny California. A lover of candy, coffee, dancing, and endless karaoke, she is happiest when surrounded by words—be they on the page or shared in good conversation. Her short fiction and poetry is featured in over a dozen anthologies from Cleis Press and Stupid Fish Productions, and currently, Jade is hard at work on the next book in the Lessons in Control series from Carina Press. Visit her at http://jadeawaters.com, or follow her at http://twitter.com/jadeawaters.

Poet Guest Blogger: Jade A. Waters

I wrote this blog post, early in my blog career before I really knew Jade…long before she became involved in Pillow Talk , or we were both part of Chemical [se]X…because Jade is an awesome lady. Listen to her podcast with Rose Caraway, she is one of the most amazing and just completely infectiously wonderful people I know. 

I love that she chose to write about poetry, today because she reminds me of when I used to write it myself. She is able to flow from prose to poetry, so that you do not think about her form…you just think about how beautiful her words are…let’s flow into Jade…

Hello everyone! I am delighted to be here today, thanks to the fabulous Miss F Dot inviting me to visit—what a sweetheart! And, since Leonora happens to be one of the most supportive and enthusiastic people I know when it comes to my poetry writing, it seemed fitting that I talk a little about the art of poetry.
Now, before I begin, I must preface this entire this post with an acknowledgment that I am not a true scholar of poetry. I took maybe three workshops and read four books on poetry in my entire life, and at one point I did teach a short workshop, so I could probably whip out some serious terminology if need be (with a manual readily in hand)—but none of that could really allow me to share any more than my own personal experience. Which is to say that, having tried numerous styles and forms, I’ve found I prefer poetry to be a big wide open field to run free in, with no rules boxing me in. Whereas in a story I am crafting with an actual arc in mind, poetry feels completely different—it’s like spilling lines all over a page in an extremely chaotic manner: willy nilly, on a whim, and without any structure or regularity like I plot in my fiction.
All that aside—I do find I keep some straightforward strategies in mind, which are rooted in the verse I wrote in my youth. I’m a pretty happy person, but then, while there was some chaos around me, I found I needed an outlet…and poetic snippets became that very outlet. The goal then was to write an angry rant to the person causing me pain, and since I tend toward the dramatic but generally prefer being nice, I guess my young brain thought the best way to ration this anger was to put it in verse. Then it was pretty anger in neat, organized, flowing lines. ☺ It grew a bit more angsty by my teen years (doesn’t everyone’s?) and tended to center around boys, but I figured out it wasn’t about the rhyme or structure. It was about the message I was trying to convey, and to whom. I remember constantly imagining dropping my journal so whoever I’d intended the message for would finally get it—so when I wrote, I did it as though I had a microphone, and I was finally able to tell the objects of my affection every little thing that was happening in my head.
While most of the stuff I wrote then is utter crap (heck, lots of it still is), the act of writing with all that anger, hurt, and desire provided massive practice in the one to five poems I was writing in a single day. And the strategies I used then still hold when I write poetry now:
Know your intended audience. 

Know your message.

Spill it on the page like you’re gushing a secret.
Ursula Le Guin recently said there’s no fancy recipe to writing something, and while I’m no Le Guin (if only!), I have to agree. You have to find what works for you, and in my case, the first two guidelines are what I must know before I sit down to write any piece of poetry, and the third follows rather naturally from there.
Okay, so now that you’ve heard my rambly how-to (without really being a how-to) backstory on writing poetry, I thought I’d share two brand new poems to demo what I’m up to behind the scenes.
This first one got tapped out on my phone last week while I was on an elliptical machine at the gym. It’s a bit on the silly side, but for demonstrating the strategies I mentioned, I think it works:

THE ROWER
I watched you on the rowing machine

(Well, tried not to watch

Is how it really went for me),

Hair slicked back as I worked over here

Sweat rolling down the sides of my face,

Letting me imagine what it would be like

Trailing down those sleek sides of yours,

Over the lines of muscle crossing 

Your abs, chest and back

(Oh, that back)

Flexing with every shift you make

On that little seat, back and

Forth, back and forth…

I don’t mean to sound smitten,

That’s why I’m biting my tongue

(Imagining biting your tongue)

Wondering if it would be advisable to 

Introduce myself, here, in this gym—

To risk my special haven

For those eyes.

But…well now. Wait a minute.

It seems I’m not the only one taking peeks here.

I blush when I look at you—

Because you are staring too. 

I turn back to my machine

(That’s why I’m here, right? 

Not crushes or lust or love—

Just this godforsaken equipment),

But when I look again

The rowing machine is deserted.

You clear your throat and I nearly jump—

You’re standing right next to me.

You say, “So I was wondering

For every mile that I rowed

If you might be interested

In going out to grab a drink—

After you’re done working out

Of course.”
I smile, and I don’t even care that

I’ve got sweat in my eyes

(It doesn’t seem like you do, either).

You smile back when I say yes. 

This machine may be

Kicking my ass,

But I’m thinking that

Drink with you?

That is the best reward

For calories lost

That I could ever dream.

All right. I chose this one because it came to me quickly and easily as far as the strategies I tend to employ. It’s certainly not my best (not even close), but the intention is clear: woman has a crush on gym gentleman (audience) and she wants to share it (message). I’d actually spotted a man sweating rather nicely on a rowing machine when I walked into the gym, and I thought, What if he was the type I tend to crush on and I wanted him to see me over here? How would I feel imagining his approach? And from there the poetic confession came forth!
Okay…now on to another, slightly more erotic poem.
LONGING ON THE SUBWAY
On the subway, I spot her—

Eyes locked on the pages

Of her book as she

Mindlessly plays with her hair,

Long tresses curling about

Her face, of which I can make out

The smooth brow furrowing

As she trails a finger along the lines

Of the text in her lap.
That’s where I long to be.
It’s those legs encased in the

Thinnest sheer fabric,

Crossed at the ankles

As she skims the pages opened up

On her clenched thighs.

From those glorious legs

I could build an entire fantasy—

She strips off her tights,

Showing me the smooth skin along her

Calves and knees, before she parts

Her perfect thighs and beckons me. 

She’ll trace fingers up her skin,

Along supple curves leading straight

To her sex, glistening and pink.

Heaven.
That’s where I long to be.
The man beside her jostles her leg

And she lifts her gaze,

She’s all smiles and laughs

And my vision shifts:

Me, tangled round those

Magnificent legs

Kisses making their way

Up her skin, over her hips,

Fingers stroking rounded thighs

And finding their way up to

All her sweetest spots

But the subway grinds to a halt.

When I rise to leave,

Her eyes meet mine

And I realize that in them—
That’s where I really long to be.
Some of you know that not only is Leonora a sweetheart, but she has amazing legs—this poem was actually inspired by one of her sexy leg photos. When I first saw the image, I immediately pictured a man spying her on the subway, completely captivated by the look of her legs and caught up in that—and then discovering she was much more than the legs (much like our fabulous Leonora). So again I had a message in mind (I love your legs but you’ve won me with your eyes), an audience (the reader, to whom he’s sharing this realization) and the secret spilling happens along the way.
Whether it is erotic, playful, or romantic poetry, those are basically the goals I’m employing before I start drafting. Even when I’m working on more serious, non-erotic poems, I have the same strategies in mind: who is the recipient and what am I trying to say to him/her/them? And from there I write it out like I’m confessing or sharing my secrets. 
So, there you have it! My thoughts on writing poetry. I know there are more poets out there, so I’m curious what strategies others use when writing their poetry. Do you think it through beforehand? Plan an arc? Work with rhyme? Choose a structure and work with that? Please share!
In the meantime, I’m sending a huge hug and a giant thank you to lovely Leonora for having me over today!

 

XX,

Jade

You can find Jade A. Waters on Twitter, and on her website. You can also find more of her poetry on her secondary site, Poetry by Jade

photo that inspired Jade’s poem, and is being used for the Prompted anthology cover by f dot leonora