Burger Porn

Hardees has recently decided that the best way to sell food is to...well, to make people want to fuck it. Literally.

I came across this commercial yesterday and all I can say is, you people are sick! The ad makes you want something, just not a burger.

http://www.hardees.com/ontv/

New writing project for black male writers

I just got this on myspace and thought this would be a great place to pass it on.

___________________________________

Hello all:

I'm sending this on behalf of a writer friend of
mine named Antonio Crawford. He's trying to get a
new anthology together consisting of fiction and
nonfiction stories by black men written for black
women.

He's already received several submissions of
poetry, but needs more short stories and positive
affirmations. If you're interested or know
someone who is, please refer to the guidelines
below. You can send the submission to
kaizenpublication@ yahoo.com.

Thanks in advance!

James W. Lewis
www.jameswlewis. com
www.myspace. com/jameswlewis
Blog: jameswlewis. blogspot. com
____________ _________ _________ _________ _________ __

Writer’s Guidelines for Womens’ Anthology
My Lady, My Lover, My Life
a book for black women by black men

CURRENTLY NO DEADLINE.

1. Brothers, we are looking for fiction and
nonfiction short stories, and personal letters.
The writing should be encouraging, romantic,
funny and inspirational to our audience,
African-American women.

Kaizen Publication posed the question to black
women, "What do you want to hear from black men?
Tell us and we will go out and gather the answers
you need." The women replied with the responses
listed below.

Our sisters are in need of answers to their
questions, this anthology is our direct response.
Let’s provide honest answers in a way that is
pure, sincere, and from the heart to help build
up and not tear down our Queens.

The best story is the one inside of you, waiting
to be shared. We encourage you to write from your
heart with passion and emotion. Share your
creativity. Inspire our audience to laugh, love,
reflect, and enjoy life. Stories should not be a
eulogy, a sermon, a lecture, or excessively
dramatic.

2. Kaizen Publication posed the question to black
women,

“What do you want to hear from black men?”

The women replied with the responses below. These
are the answers our women need, through this
anthology. Together, let’s provide the answers.

Responses to “What do you want to hear from
black
men?”

... We want men to share their feelings from
their hearts.

... We want to hear more from the blood
brothers-to- sisters relationships (the closeness
of siblings and the siblings who hold us up).

... Please speak to the issue of absenteeism from
the children when a relationship ends.

... Why are black women referred to as strong
women when others are referred to as beautiful?

... What can we do as women to help our men be
more compassionate to who we are?

... Help the relay between us, become smoother -
based on how we are supposed to be.

… We want to know what defines a good woman?

… We want to know if the good woman you define,
is also the good woman you want?

… And is a good woman desirable?

... We want to hear honest answers to why some
black men choose women of other races

The best story is the one inside of you, waiting
to be shared. We encourage you to write from your
heart with passion and emotion. Share your
creativity. Inspire our women to laugh, love,
reflect, and enjoy life.

3. Entries must support the theme “My Lady, My
Lover, My Life.” Each entry should aim to
deliver
a message that is uplifting with an outcome of
virtue (satisfaction, joy, laughter, romance,
merit, and good).

4. Chapter topics may cover a variety of areas:
History, Culture, Romance, Friendship, Love,
Faith, Family, Marriage, Parenting, Children,
Internal Beauty, Relationship and the things we
experience in every day life.

5. Authors will maintain exclusive rights to
their work. The text length should be between
350-1200 words for personal letters and short
stories. Our editors and publishing team reserves
the right to edit any submission for errors,
grammar, transition flow, context structure,
accuracy and brevity.

6. Authors may submit their work by completing
the questionnaire and providing a personal letter
or short story to Kaizen Publication LLC. Entries
must meet the following criteria:

* Typed
* 12pt, Times New Roman Font
* Double-spaced
* One-inch margins
* Ordinary white 8.5 x 11 typing paper

7. Send all entries to the following address and
include a self-addressed, stamped, envelope
(SASE). Entries that are not selected cannot be
returned without prepaid postage. Manuscripts
received that do not follow the guidelines may be
discarded or returned immediately.
Kaizen Publication LLC
Attention: KP Publishing Staff
3550 Manthey Road
Suite F, PMB 228
Stockton, California 95206
email: books@kaizenpublica tion.com
web: www.kaizenpublicati on.com

8. If entries are accepted, the authors will
receive correspondence confirming their entry by
email or U.S. mail within thirty days for
acceptance and final proofing.

9. Contributing writers who are selected will
receive $100 for short stories and $50 for
personal letters. A $15% discount off the market
price for any additional book orders and listed
on our executive list of authors. No other
claims, expressed or implied are offered by
Kaizen Publication or any of its members in
connection with this project.

10. Questionnaire Submission:

Author’s name:

Mailing Address:

Contact Number:

Best time to contact you:

Provide a brief Bio summary:

Note: If you want your manuscript returned, you
must include a stamped, self-addressed envelope.
Manuscripts will not be returned without pre-paid
postage and may be discarded after 14 days of
receipt.


James W. Lewis
www.jameswlewis. com
Check out a few wild excerpts at jameswlewis. blogspot. com

The Life of a Schizophrenic Writer

I figure I should do some sort of update today since it's been a while. Forgive me for this (half-assed) token effort in advance.

May is masturbation month. Yay. Not that I need an excuse, but still, it's nice to have one. Okay people, get a new toy, try a new position or just enjoy yourself while driving home from work (be careful LOL). Just celebrate it!

I haven't been posting much the past few weeks because...well because I've been feeling mighty crappy. I have been having second and third thoughts about my writing career (amazing what a review or lack thereof can do for you) and moping around. I've been writing off and on, but it feels like everything I write is bad. The thought of finishing any of my current serials/novels has me yearning to throw something and break it. I know, sexy right? I want to fill this blog with all the sexy, freaky things that pass through my mind on a semi-regular basis; it's hard when you're just not in a sexy mood. I spent most of today semi-promoting one of my other blogs. Yes, I was that bored/frustrated. I need a drink.

An Attack of Ego

I am feeling dirty today. No, not in a good way.

I got a review for one of my stories and it was so-so.

I suppose I should suck it up and either act like it doesn't matter or take the criticism and use it to my advantage, but I don't feel like it. I feel like going to the local liquory (yes, that's a new word), investing in a little pre-mixed Cuervo margarita and using bad language to describe whoever doesn't like my writing.

I have mixed feelings about this review.

Part of me feels like I should be grateful that someone reviewed it. After all, I've sold several copies online and no one has returned to the site to post their comments on it. Though, I can't blame them, I rarely do that myself. Unless it's something I'm giving 5 stars or it was a horrible waste of time, I don't often feel a compulsion to tell other people what I think of a story. I suppose I should also feel flattered that the owner of the site reviewed it since she doesn't review stories very often.

But, I'm kind of offended. Not because I can't take criticism. I can. After a few deep breaths and a long analyzation of the exact wording of the comments. I take it and either agree or disagree. I see the points of the reviewer (whether I agree or not) and I try to store up the useful info for next time. But, it's fucking hard. I want everyone to like everything I do. I want them to glow about it. I want them to tell me it was one of the best things they've ever read and they can't wait to buy everything I've got in print.

'Tis not the case.

What makes it worse for me is that I posted an early version of this story elsewhere (before I decided to publish it). The people there loved it, but that may be because 1. they know me and at the time I was posting stories there frequently and 2. they are more personally invested in the story because the main character is based on someone they like. Regardless of the amount of praise the story received, at the time I was just happy it wasn't being completely ignored.

Which brings me to my ego dilemma. I try to tell myself I don't like or want false praise, nor do I solicit it. I genuinely want readers to like what I'm putting out there or tell me their concerns if they're unhappy with it. But, it's hard to take when someone sees something you don't. I disagree with the reviewer on several technical points, but I know her comments were subjective. I shouldn't be upset because it doesn't appear to be personal. (Though I do wonder why the second book I submitted was never reviewed. Was the first really that bad?) I want to take the words of the former readers over this one reviewer because most of them liked it (and I've also got the word of another reviewer who enjoyed it). I want to believe my writing has improved in the 2 years since I wrote that story. I want to think that nothing "fell short" in the execution department and that this writer simply didn't like my storyline. (I am tempted to only quote the positive parts of the review. Is that dishonest?)

*sigh* I also want an M&Ms M-azing bar right now. Or two.

flashback to my cheesy beginnings

I think I mentioned somewhere that I write romance. I can't think of the last time I wrote one that wasn't erotic, but that's another thing on my to-do list. I have a half-finished soon-to-be Harlequin Blaze that I should probably get around to finishing one of these days. Anyway, a hundred years ago (in 2001), I joined a romance writers group to get advice and support from other writers. Mostly, there was a lot of gossip. LOL This was in the early days of the group and it has changed dramatically since then. When I was actively participating in the group, there were weekly writing prompts that challenged us to write about a scenario using the five senses in our writing. If you knew how difficult I found description then (and still do on occassion), you could understand how much I appreciated having the challenges and the feedback that followed.

Out of the blue I got the urge to look at some of the things I wrote back then. Man, was I corny. LOL I'm still writing romance, in spite of how cheesetastic my writing has been in the past, but I like to think it's not this cheesy anymore. I just looked over this short story and decided to post it. Who knows? Maybe I can figure out how to breathe new life into it.

__________________________________

July 28, 2001

Kathy pulled back the curtain from the side porch window and glanced at the house next door. With a few broken shutters here and there, an unkempt lawn, there was little to let on that someone was staying there. Except the new car in the front drive and the SOLD sign dominating the tiny front yard. No real signs of life. “Just as well,” she said. The house had been unoccupied for so long, she wondered how anyone could be forced to live in it, let alone be talked into purchasing the old relic. The old wooden floors had to be rotted through, the windows were too grungy to let in the sunlight, and she just couldn’t imagine—Kathy sighed. She couldn’t imagine anyone being able to bring back the old magic the house used to hold for her.

Soft meowing and purring at her feet brought her out of her musing. She smiled and picked up the tiny Persian, now beginning to paw at her toes. “There you are Bianca. Ready to go outside?” She received another purr and a soft pat on the hand in response. Kathy pushed the back door open and stepped out into the back yard, letting Bianca bounce onto the grass. The kitten began chasing a butterfly and Kathy found herself staring at the house again. It’s blue siding was now faded to a dingy gray color. The once- beautiful side gardens were reduced to weed beds where Kathy bet snakes and other nasty things had made nests. Her mother once told her that even true beauty fades with time, but Kathy had always believed that was an allusion to the cancer slowly eating away at her body. She’d never thought to connect that with the old memories of David, her childhood, and the house that had been a refuge from the harsh realities of home.

Reality. That’s what it really came down to. Had she ever been truly safe? She’d been caught with David numerous times, hiding under the bed, in the closet, even once, crawling into the oven to escape her father, but had it really been a haven? She’d always had to come back home, every night, to relive that nightmare over and over again. To dream of a day when David, her protector, would tell her that everything would be fine and that man could never put his hands on her again. Even her mother could never promise her that. Kathy shivered and rubbed the sudden gooseflesh on her arms. Now the nightmares were gone, but not the sweet memories of that house, and the only friend who’d cared enough to stand up to her father.

Kathy glanced around and spotted Bianca playing closer and closer to the old wooden fence. She was crouched in the grass, ready to pounce on a butterfly, looking every bit the predator. “Come here sweetie, time to go back inside.” The cat ignored her and turned over on her back, pawing at the grass that loomed above her. Kathy tiptoed closer and stretched out a hand, hoping to catch her off guard. Before she could blink, Bianca had turned over and darted through a broken slat in the fence, into her new neighbor’s back yard.

“Wonderful.” The gate was on the other side of the house. Grasping the top of the fence firmly, Kathy braced one leg on a wooden slat and swung the other over the top. Straddling the fence, she looked into the yard and could see nothing but tall grass and weeds stretching from the fence to the house. “Bianca!” she hissed. A movement in the grass caught her eye and at last, she spotted Bianca emerging from a bed of weeds and hopping up the steps to the back porch. “Get back here,” she said, louder than she had wanted. The last thing she needed was some neighbor wondering about the crackpot next door. She swung her leg over and instead of landing on soft grass, Kathy found herself dangling from the fence, casually swinging from a belt loop. I hope Bianca is okay, she thought, ‘cause when I get a hold of that cat, I’m gonna kill her.

She wanted to laugh at this. Heaven knew she’d been caught in dozens of oddball situations before. But there was something different about this, something oddly familiar. In spite of herself, Kathy smiled. She could still hear David’s laughter the first time she’d tried to cross this fence and managed to get stuck the same way. Some things don’t change. Woomph! And clumsiness is one of them. Another perfect landing butt-first in the grass.

Kathy stood and brushed the grass off her shorts before heading for the back steps. Even as a child she’d been overly cautious about coming up these, but…one wrong step and she’d greet her new neighbor in a leg cast. “Bianca,” she whispered. There was an answering meow and Kathy took that as her cue to hop quickly up the wooden steps before they could collapse under her weight. The door was slightly open and she called out again for her cat before pushing it on its hinges. Kathy took a step forward and grimaced at the loud squeak from the floorboard. So much for getting in and out unnoticed. “Bianca!” she hissed again. Even before she saw him, she smelled it. That cologne. He’d worn it the day he left and she knew that scent would stay ingrained in her memory as long as she lived.

“It is you Kat.” He appeared in the doorway, the kitten cradled in his arms. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

All at once, she forgot how to breathe, to speak, to do anything but stare in those warm green eyes and long to be held again. “David,” she whispered, her eyes starting to tear up.

He dropped the kitten and held his arms out to her. Kathy melted into his embrace as if the 15 years was as easy to bridge as the few steps across the floor. Maybe for their hearts, it was. “I’ve missed you,” David mumbled into her hair. The first tears were staining his shirt and their arms had begun to hurt from straining to hold each other tighter, but neither wanted to let go. “It’s okay, honey,” he whispered, rocking her slowly. “I’m here for you.”

Kathy closed her eyes and finally let out that tense breath she’d been holding. All her life she’d dreamed of this moment. Now she could finally let it all go.

the price of beauty

There are no words for this. Well, maybe one: Classic.

Sugasm # 77

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