Thank you Kathy for having me here today. 😀
Where, dear reader, would we be without the internet? For one, you wouldn’t be reading this blog post, and indeed, I wouldn’t have written it. Instead I’d be nervously scurrying up to a desk in a bookshop, hoping that they wouldn’t boot me out for being a peddler of porny stories.
More though than getting the word out about new stories, I could not have written Body & Bowwithout the internet. At least, not at the speed with which I wrote it (that is, in about a week, after which I developed a sharp chest pain – that’ll teach me about good posture at a laptop!) Without having access to YouTube, to Wikipedia, to Google, I’d have been floundering in the library for days, or even, gasp, been forced to ask people for help, and explaining that one would have been an intriguing notion to say the least.
The idea for it germinated long before I put fingers to keyboard. I put up a provocative post on Facebook, debating on wandering into a local music store, picking up a violin bow, lifting my shirt and running it across my stomach to see how it would feel. That got a reaction from my bemused friends! And it was, in fact, helpful: mentions of how the horse hair would feel; introduction to new words, such as rosin; recommendations of buying a cheap one on eBay; suggestions I go speak to a local bow maker. Of course there were plenty of hijinks too, but that really just encouraged me on to write the story. Can’t go around making provocative statements if I’m not going to write them, now can I?
But for a while, the story sat in my head. One real-life step I did take was getting my hands on a violin. A friend offered to loan me his, and I daresay he’s quite proud of the role it played in the story creation. I took some shots of it as well for the memories:
Then the deadline for the collection the story (erotica about music and musicians) will one day appear in loomed. And it was much closer than I thought it was. I had a brief moment of thinking I couldn’t possibly make it, but I found I didn’t want to just let the idea escape when I had such a perfect opportunity to write it.
So, while tossing around the ideas for the plot and characters, and in between picking up the violin and making those dreaded ‘strangling the cat’ noises that all beginners make, I set about my research. I learned about rosin (the wax like substance used on the horse hair of bows, and different kinds are used for different instruments). I sat on YouTube and Wikipedia learning the names of different bow strokes and how they sounded. Then I found the sheet music for the key musical piece (the Handel-Halvorsen Passacaglia) I used in the novella and read along with it as I listen to the music, picking out the correct musical terminology so I could apply them correctly when I wrote the scene where it features (luckily, having learned to play flute in high school, I could read music), even going beyond the string instrument specific terms and finding out more terms for expression (this led to naming one of the chapters ‘Con Fuco’ meaning ‘With Fire.’) There were points where I even got so invested in the research that I almost lost track of what I was meant to be doing; telling an interesting, exciting story. However, I managed to pull back, and was able to use (I hope at least) just enough to make it intriguing for a non-musician and in such a way that an actual musician could appreciate it too.
There is one little piece of info that I do regret not including. But I’ll perhaps leave it to the musos who read it to ponder (or indeed, smirk) over that one, and let the rest of the readers just enjoy the story.
Title: Body & Bow by Jacqueline Brocker
Publisher: Fantastic Fiction Publishing
Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, BDSM, Menage, M/F/M Romance
Word Count: 12142
Upon reading Klarissa Archer’s scathing review of their latest performance, cellist Leonard Sanderson and violinist Marco Lambrosini have very different reactions. Leonard is filled with rage. Marco invites Klarissa for drinks. Pleased that she has so upset the arrogant Sanderson Klarissa accepts Marco’s offer, unaware that he has something in mind for her, Leonard, velvet ropes and the bows of cello and violin. (M/F/M)
Klarissa closed her email program, the workday almost done. She’d spent the afternoon dealing with the feedback from her review, and it had been… entertaining at the very least. There was a mixture of ones who were shocked and dismayed at her harshness (“But Leonard IS the lion of the cello!” – she’d printed that one off for keeping), whilst others wholeheartedly applauded her (“I’m grateful there are people like you keeping us on our toes.”).
She forwarded the good ones to her editor, trashed the rest, and leaned back in her chair, looking at the clock on the wall. Five minutes to five. Nearly time for her to leave the office and grab a celebratory Prosecco. Her mobile rang, and Stuart’s name flashed up on screen. She smirked as she answered.
He didn’t bother with a greeting. “You’ve really done it now, Klarissa. Really, what were you thinking?”
Klarissa laughed at his fake sternness. “You think so? Oh my, the pair of classical musicians are baying for my blood, I must go into protective custody immediately! Don’t you know how risky it is to be a journalist who tells the truth?”
Stuart chuckled. “My dear, you really are over-the-top. Though I wonder if the truth is what matters to you in this case.”
Klarissa allowed a pause to go before she said, “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, it’s a rare woman who doesn’t want to get into Leonard the Lion’s pants, so one has to wonder if the lady doth protest too much?”
Her neck flushed, and she told him to bugger off and hung up. What a prick!
Prick that he was, though, he was clever. Klarissa pounded into the keyboard, and tried to not think about the function at the Bateman’s house four months ago when she’d met Leonard Sanderson.
Well, met wasn’t quite the right word.
Sanderson had been surrounded by bobbing heads and giggling faces, all women. One was even stroking her fingers through the wild, blond mane that had lead to the bestowing of his nickname. Klarissa had tried to get closer to talk to him, get him to consider an interview, when she’d stupidly collided with a drinks tray and sent the poor waitress, and herself, crashing into another crowd of patrons.
Not her finest moment. Made all the worse by Sanderson’s uproarious laugh, which echoed amongst the silly women around him. Few other guests had offered to help, and she’d spent ten minutes picking up glass, and offering to help wipe up. The waitress had just glared at her the whole time. Klarissa had left quickly after that, little dignity intact. She knew she was mentally exaggerating the jeering as she’d left the reception area, but then, she had no doubt that half the London arts scene would have delighted in her mishap.
Somehow from Sanderson it was worse. That big blond American head of his, chuckling at her, then turning away as if she were just a fleeting moment’s entertainment.
When the farewell concerts came, she went along, of course, on the opening night.
And oh, what fodder Sanderson gave her.
Jacqueline Brocker is an Australian writer living in the UK. She has published several short erotic stories with various publishers, and also self-published several works. Her first erotic novella, Body & Bow, is published by Forbidden Fiction, from whom she has two short stories forthcoming later this year. When not writing, or Scottish Country Dancing, she can be found reading by the banks of the River Cam.