Ella Shawn's Blog

One of the most difficult parts about writing love stories is actually showing the process of falling in love. Most people don't consider how they fall in love or if everyone falls in love for the same reasons. Writers have to take into consideration that falling in love is not a one-size-fits-all situation. 

The first thing I did when I realized I was going to have to show and not tell how my characters fall in love with each other, was to jot down a list of questions I had about falling in love. [Yes, some of these questions are stupid AF and make absolutely no sense, but I still considered them seriously.]

Now this list is in no way complete. I had about a thousand questions about falling in love, for the sake of brevity and short attention spans, I narrowed them down to my top fifteen. I won’t bore you by providing answers to each of these questions, just know... these and others help me to show my characters falling in love so that my readers are able to experience the process along with them.

 

Based on my answers to these questions, I created a LOVE Checklist to help me to help me when I’m writing. If you’re not familiar with my philosophy of writing; this is it in a nutshell:

 

I write character-driven stories where language, setting, and eroticism are essential tools in both character arcs and plot momentum. Many of my themes are taken from the darkest aspects that corrupt humanity. My characters go on a healing spiritual journey of self-love and acceptance, while overcoming past traumas and learned self-destructive behaviors. 

 

Having said that, my LOVE Checklist starts with the Universal Law of Reflection and takes me through Observation/Objectivity, Validation, and finally Evaluation. 

If you have qestions about how to use this checklist, please leave them in the comments and I'll answer within 48-hours. If you have some writing tips to help writers show the process of following in love, as opposed to telling their readers, leave those in the comment section, too. Basically, I would really love to hear from you! 🤗

Remember, life is a journey and some of us enjoy wandering through the enchanted moments. But just because we wander, doesn’t mean we don’t know where we’re going. Until next time, be brave, beautiful, and live enchanted.

~Ella Shawn 

 

"Why the hell would I care about how you and your two-minute-man fucked in his car last night, Laura?" Joyeux; although she preferred to be called Joy, mumbled as she picked up the new dirty martini the bartender placed in front of her. She looked over at the man in question, whose eyes were narrowed and glaring at the side of Laura's head like he was trying to parse out if she'd really called him a two-minute man."You're such a bitch, Laura. Why would you say something so cruel?"

"Come off of it!" Joy sucked down the rest of her drink and stood to walk away, but the bar started spinning and the floor rose up to meet her face. Just before she embarrassed herself in front of her colleagues and a good portion of Boston's elite professionals, a large, familiar hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her clear off the floor before she could register she hadn't hit the floor, after all. This is why I don't do corporate holiday parties.

"Joyeux Lovelace,  you're not usually so easily swept off your feet by a handsome man." Joy's face blazed upon hearing the smooth, baritone she thought had moved across the country with the beautiful man it belonged to. The same beautiful man who asked her to move with him with that decadent sex-god voice.

"Christian Noelle. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?" As she steadied herself, she dared to look into his hunter green eyes and not fall into them the way she fell in love with him three years ago.

"Where else would I have my wedding, if not at home?"

"Y-You're getting...married?"

"That's the plan. Hopefully, everything works out accordingly.  But you never know."

"Do I know her," She pulls away from the warmth of his large body  before clarifying, "Your fiancee?"

"Yes."

 

Music and WritingI'm writing an important scene in the 4th book of the Broken Souls series, and this song is so fucking perfect for what's happening in John and Vivian's playroom. I was looking for the top songs for the third week of January of 2003, Justin Timberlake's Cry Me a River was on this list. I thought it would be a good idea to add it to this scene, but wanted a darker more decadent version of it for my playlist. I found this cover and loved that it's a beautiful Black artist based in England. It doesn't hurt that she's a she. 🤗

What was truly interesting, was learning that Ella Fitzgerald had a song with the same title; released in 1961. Oddly enough, it's just as perfect for the scene going down in John and Viv's playroom. 
I'm leaving both songs with this quick post.
Leave me a comment and tell me which one you like better and what you think is going on in their playroom that this music would be appropriate.




Favorite lyrics from Justin Timberlake's Cry Me a River
Your bridges are burned, now it's your turn to cry me a river

Favorite lyrics from Ella Fitzgerald's Cry Me a RiverNow you say you're sorry for being so untrueWell, you cry me a river. Cry me a river...Cause I cried, I cried, I cried a river over you.
I'd love to know what your favorite lyrics are, so leave me a comment below. Enchanted listening.
Remember life is a journey, and not all who wander are lost. Be brave. Be beautiful. And as always, live Enchanted.
Ella

 

“We have a heartbeat, people! How long was she gone?”

“This can’t be correct.”

“What… how long?”

“She flatlined at 7:03 pm—“

“What time did we get a pulse?”

“7:53 pm. “

“That has to be a goddamn miracle! No way she came back after almost an hour without brain activity or a fucking heartbeat.”

“We get a name, yet?”

“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

“Well?”

“Fucking Christie.” 

“Get the fuck outta here.”

“Maybe Jesus had a baby sister.”

“Whatever, Let’s sew her ass up and get her into recovery. Let the damn nurses deal with the second coming of Christ-ie. “

*** 

I would love to tell you how amazing it’s been to be the woman who was brutally gang-raped, sliced all to hell, and come back to life after being dead for almost an hour; however, I’d be a lying sack of shit if I did. Nothing is ever going to be as good as being dead. Now, I’m stuck in this fucked up body with the stench of five devils crawling around and inside every part of me. 

They’re haunting me even when I’m awake. I see them, hear their raspy voices as they whisper filth into some poor girl’s neck just before they fuck every hole in her abused body. I watch them like some sick slasher porn movie, as the one with the shaggy brown hair and the peppermint breath, cuts a hole into her thigh because his friends took all the ones she was born with. 

“Officer Sewell, I can see them clear as day. Just go to the address… send someone over and you’ll find the four men who’ve been terrorizing the women in this town. “

“Look, I’m sorry we don’t have any leads on n your case—“

“No you’re not but you will be.”

“You threatening me, Christie?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you go home.”

“I could… but I don’t have to.”

*** 

“Fuck, Christie. Last time anybody saw you, you looked like the walking dead.”

“And now? How do I look now, Fred?”

“Fucking hot as hell. Where have you been?”

“Healing.”

“You better hope Buck and the boys don’t see you looking like you serving sweet pussy pie on a silver platter.”

“Why’s that, Fred?”

“Everybody round here know what they done to you and those other girls, too.”

“Everyone except the police, you mean?”

“Not words I’m willing to say. What you drinking, pretty girl?”

“She ain’t drinking shit right now, but in a few minutes she’ll be drinking my thick cum.”

“Hey Buck… we don’t want—“

“Didn’t ask what the fuck you want, Fred. Did I?”

“Christie, I think it’s time for you to head home.”

“Not before I get a chance to sip Buck’s putrid cum from his tiny cocktail wiener.”

“Dying must’ve left your stupid ass with a motherfucking dealth  wish, bitch.”

“No, but it did give me some perspective.”

“Yeah, what’s your perspective, Christie?”

“You take what isn’t yours because nobody’s ever taken anything from you. But, I’ve been watching and listening to you and your boys fucking each other for the last six months.”

“The fuck?”

“You love it when Rob and Sam double dick your asshole, love it, even more, when Kenny slams his cock down your throat, don’t you, Buck?”

“You’re dead, you filthy cunt-whore. “

“Been there already. They sent me back to deliver a message to you. Not your three loyal lovers, Buck. Just to you.”

“Ha, you’re bat-shit crazy.”

“Maybe. And I’m still going to deliver this message.”

“Speak on it, Christie. What’d the angels tell you to say to me?”

“You listening, Buck?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Your mama asked me to remind you of the promise you made to her on her deathbed.”

“Thehellyousaidbitch?”

“She said, ‘Tell my boy, Benji, to keep his promise to honor, respect, and most of all to protect every woman he meets.’ She said to remind you that you were only a boy when your daddy and your uncles raped and murdered her while you and your brothers were forced to watch.”

“How… how the fuck you know any of this shit? Who the fuck you been talking to, huh?”

“Oh, Benji. Ms. Liza cried a million tears when I showed her how you pulled my legs apart and shoved your entire fist and arm up to the elbow into my virgin pussy. How you let your little brother, Rob tear through my virgin asshole. She died a thousand times over when you carved your name across my beaten, bloodied breasts. But—“

“But... but, what, bitch?”

“When I showed her the brand in the middle of my back, the same one your father gave her... her eyes went ice-blue and cold. So cold, Benji, she froze hell over and spit blood onto the floor of heaven. Her tears dried up. She grabbed my face and spoke into my soul, Buck. Wanna know what she said, Buck?

"Fucking spit it out, already. You lying piece of shit. Like you talk to my mama... I ought to--"

"Ms. Liza whispered into my heart and told. me to let it drip down into the depths of my bleached white soul. Come here, Buck. I'm going to whisper it to you, just like she whispered it to me. Don't be scared, Benji."

"I ain't scared of you or the ghost of my whore of a mother. I'm here... what'd she say?"

She said, "‘Tell him what a beautiful disappointment he turned out to be. Tell him, I have nothing in my soul for him and he will live every lifetime searching for a certain kind of love, but he won’t find it. He'll be missing that part I left to him and he won't understand what he's even pining for.'"

“When?”

“Two months ago.”

“Christie, you have to get it back—“

“No, Buck, I don’t. Fred? Thanks for being nice to me.”

“I need to get it back, Christie. I’m lost without—“

“Seems like you were just as lost with it. Either way, you won’t be hurting anyone else. See you, Buck.”

“Christie, don’t you fucking dare pull that trig—“

“Ms. Liza said she needed to see him one last time, Fred. I promised to send Benji to her as soon as I was able. Be good, Fred. I'll see you next lifetime.“

***

It's been years since I thought about that time in my life when I became the hands and mouth of divinity. After sending Benji home to his mama, I caught the first train out of that godforsaken town. I never looked back. Didn't concern myself with the others who tried to break me. Just went about living my life as the best possible version of myself. I guess I'll get to rectify the mistakes I made when I met Buck and his crew... at least that's what I believe.

 

I will be like a tree planted by the still waters, steadfast and unmovable. I have no idea how many times I've heard some version of this saying growing up in Southern Baptist Black churches in South Carolina. In the context of Christianity, it is a warning. A command to stand fast and wait on the Lord. A command to be complacent and passive in one's own life because this life doesn't belong to the individual; it belongs to God.

I'm not a Christian. I don't acquiesce to the command of a God who desires my subservient compliance and blind adoration; however, I am definitely down with being like a tree planted by the still waters. On Tuesday, April 12, 2021; I went for my normal morning walk in my neighborhood. Three miles, four days a week... thank you very much. 😁 Anyway, I am living the path and gave myself over to the magic of the natural environment. Noticing how beautiful the monochromatic green scape was. How amazing it all seemed to work together without competition or disharmony.

I noticed one of the branches had been cut away from a gorgeous Ash. I also noticed how the wound was filled in with solidified sap. In my observation and connection with nature, I realized we aren't unlike trees in our own natural ability. Regardless of how we sustain them, we are equipped to self-administer our own form of 'sap' to fill in and heal what hurts us most.

As I continued my walk, I thought about how this metaphore applies to me as a writer. What areas have I been wounded in, but have failed to admisnister the healing balm? Lately; I've been seeing so many social media posts about Imposture Syndrome and honestly, I had no idea what the hell it was. But writers seem to suffer greatly from whatever it is. 

After looking up this phenomenon, I realized two things: one: I've been suffering with this syndrome since I decided to take a stab at professionaly writing and, two: This syndrome is an injury that we can heal ourselves. Which brings me to my Tuesday morning walk. (Stick with me... It comes together quite nicely, promise 😃)

Writers are a unique and particularly tortured bunch of individuals who never find the elusive perfection we seek. We either seek to create perfection in our writing, in our philanthropic endeavors, or through our lifestyles. Ask any writer how many times they've agonized about using one word over the other when they mean the exact same damn thing. It's horrible! Pushing that 'publish' button and running into the nearest room with a door that locks and screaming like a banshee until the tears all dry up and/or the cops have been called to haul our crazy asses away from the self-destructive spiral we spin into.

Where does this anxiety come from? The same place all dense energy in motion comes from... Fear. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being laughed at, ridiculed. God forbid, others don't understand what the hell we're trying to do or say with our writing. Why does it matter? Simple...

Injured Writers Create from a Wounded and Bruised Place.So, what if they do, what's that have to do with being like a damn tree? Remember I spoke about how the wounds on the tree were filled with solidified sap? We have the same ability to comfort and heal our wounds as the trees do. We are so good at dishing out love, compassion, and forgiveness to everyone and their mommas but when it comes to giving that same sugar-honey-ice-tea to ourselves... we never remember we deserve to have it as much as the next guy. Be like a tree planted by still waters. 
When part of you is broken, release a little love to that part of yourself. Let it flow until it fills in the cracks, making it stronger and impervious to whatever tried to destroy it in the first place. When the time comes to prune pieces that are no longer viable to your growth, release some compassion to yourself for having the strength it takes to recognize what parts of yourself have been holding you back and being willing to remove them. When strong winds, rains, and storms blow into your life and uproot what you thought was unmovable, release forgiveness to yourself. Know it's alright to miscalculate or overestimate situations. It's all right to trust in something or someone who lets you down. 
Trees, like writers, give all of themselves to those who readily recognize their beauty and bask in the magic created because they simply exist. Rarely are trees and/or writers, for that matter, seen as the complex divine entities they are. So, yes. Be like the trees planted by still waters. Actively engaged in the growth, healing, comfort, and creation of self and magic. Knowing full-well the life given is not a passive act of compliance but a defiant and willful act of strength, power, and healing. 

Because as writers, we are so damn willing to cut ourselves open and bleed the truth of humanity's lies. Like all artists, we are the healers of souls. In order to fulfill that role, we are required to heal our own souls, as well. Required to acknowledge the dense shadow versions of ourselves and cover them with love, compassion, and forgiveness. Challenged to live with every aspect of self without fear, guilt, judgment, or shame. In that place of total acceptance of difficult and easy, dark and light, open and closed-off; that's where the magic of writing happens. 
Whole Writers Create from a Place of Acceptance, Love, Compassion, and Forgiveness.This is also where the magic of Nature happens. This place of acceptance. Ease, light, and openess. I was on my way back home from another day's walk and was surrounded by dandelion fluff. I always notice it, how could I not? But this time, I stopped moving ans allowed myself to be still. Got really quiet and listened to the universal language most of us don't even know we know. 😉 The fluff was moving in such haphazard ways, my first thought was how does it know where to go? What if it doesn't make it? Is the fluff moving against the wind to push toward the place it thinks is best? 
Quieting those thoughts, I stood like a tree planted by still waters and listened. This is the message nature shared with me and I'm happy to share it with you...

           

Remember, life is a series of moments and just because you wander through them, doesn't necessarily mean you're lost. Thanks for sharing this enchanted moment with me.

Ella

 

I don't think my idea of happily-ever-after is the same as other romance writers. Scratch that. My idea of happily-ever-after is nothing like other romance writers, owning my shit and everything. It's taken me a while to come to terms with that and a little longer to find the courage to write the words down.  There are so many tropes, genres, and niches in the romance writing scene and still it's all pretty much the same basic formula Disney uses to get little girls to believe that some day their prince will come and rescue them from whatever evil has befallen them. 

Of course, there are some variations on this formula but ultimately, this is how romance novels are born.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with writing and reading the quintessential romance story with happily-ever-after most people look for. I love a good sweet and sassy romance read as much as the next girl, and I also live in the real world where shit isn't always tied up with a neat bow. Some times, the romance is tied with a length of course jute rope or maybe an extension cord--one still attached to an outlet--yet these happily-ever-afters are no less fulfilling than others.
When I first started writing, I wasn't quite sure what genre I was working in. Erotica was the first one I looked into and promptly found I didn't meet the criteria for that genre alone. I love writing graphic sex scenes... giving a bird's eye view into the sexual experiences of my characters is fun and liberating; however, it's more than the explicit sex that drives my characters and plots. Like I said, I love the happily ever after as much as anyone and I love seeing how all the wheels and cogs have to come together to make the entire system run smoothly. 
That being said, I also have an insatiable need to explore sexuality as a conduit into spiritual awakening for both my heroine and my hero. Sex isn't just written into my stories because I'm a horny, housewife writing for other horny housewives. I write intimately about sex because I truly believe it is one of the most important ways to connect with self, others, and the Universe. 
This next bit will be discussed while wearing my favorite KEEP-SHIT-REAL hat, if you don't have one of these hats, I suggest you go to my shop and get one. There's power in words and all that. A woman's sexuality is the most fluid sexuality I know of. Yes, some of us will try to deny our sexual fluid nature. Why continue to eat the lies and misinformation the patriarchy has been feeding us since they realized just how powerful our sexual nature was. Power they could no more control than they could control the rising and falling of the tide. Power they could no more understand than they could the innerworkings of a woman's mind. It's for those and similar reasons women have been systematically forced into some kind of tiny square box; even though we're all kinds of circles and curves. I'll talk about the square and curve thing in another post but for right now, I want to explore the sexual fluidity within women and how I explore it through my heroines in the dark romance novels I  love writing. By the way, that's the genre I write: Dark Erotic Romance. Took me a while to figure that shit out and once I did, I had no more reservations about sharing it with any and everyone. 
Divine (Feminine) Sexuality[Note] Pretty much everything from this point on is based on my opinions, personal experience, and my own definition/understanding of divine sexuality.
Divine feminine sexuality is where Universal Knowledge(male) and Universal Creativity(feminine) join together  to produce bridge between the physical and spiritual world.
As a heterosexual woman, I'm sexually attracted to men. However; as a divinely  sexual woman, I can't help how I feel when I see a beautiful woman walk into a café. I find myself looking at every aspect of her person, from her hair all the way to her shoes.. Taking note of how amazing her tits look or how great her jeans ride her ass... and because I'm so bold in my divine sexuality, I seek her out just to tell her what a beautiful woman she is and how great I think her ass and tits look in what she's wearing.
Here's where the power of being a divinely sexual woman comes into play. It allows me and other women who've tapped into it to move through our lives without restraints on who we share sexual energy with. NOT WHO WE HAVE SEX WITH. Sharing sexual energy is the cornerstone of creativity and creativity is the only way to interact and understand the Universal Knowledge. Meaning, being sexually fluid on an energetic level opens up multiple avenues to connect with and access what is needed from the Universe. 
Most of the women I find myself attracted... drawn, fascinated, intrigued, interested, and/or enchanted to, by, in are almost always heterosexual. Just like me. And almost always these heterosexual women respond in kind to me...saying, "I was going to stop by your table and tell you how gorgeous you are with that haircut..." or, "I noticed you when I walked in and thought that woman has such a beautiful smile, I wonder if I should tell her?" 
Still not seeing how powerful divine feminine sexuality is? Okay, how about this.
My current series, the Broken Souls series, is centered on my heroine, Vivian. I'm not a liberty to divulge everything about Vivian because, spoiler alert. But, I will share this about her character. She was always afraid of her sexual self because she wasn't allowed to discover it so much as she was forced to watch others take it away from her at an early age. However, she comes to realize there is power in sex. A power that is, at first, superficial and only based in getting what she thinks she needs and then... This is where I did deep into the marrow of divine feminine sexuality.... through  her monogamous, BDSM relationship with the series' hero, John, she discovers the healing power of sex. Still on a somewhat superficial level, but also on a subtle, emotional level too.
As the series goes on, Vivian embarks on journey into herself where she has to confront all of her shadow selves, make peace with them and learn to embrace and love them. This is where she discovers the true transformative power of divine feminine sexuality. Here's the gospel I preach through my dark erotic romance and pretty much every other thing under my Enchanted brand:
A Woman's Divine Feminine Sexuality is the Conduit to Not Only Her Spiritual Awakening, but It is How the Universe Seeks to Awaken All of Humanity."Oh, so now God wants us to engage in some kind of spiritual orgy and then we'll all wake up the next morning free from the burdens of our egos? Get-the-fuck-outta here, Ella."
No, but would you really object all that much if I said it was the only way to make shit happen? Ha-Ha! Didn't think so. Pay attention, you might learn something interesting.




























































Did you learn anything from my snazzy infographic? I hope you did, it took me like forever to make it so... show some appreciation. I'd hate to be in my car yelling about how I want to be appreciated. 😂
But really, this is the foundation of my entire Enchanted writer's platform. Most of what I write is fundamentally further exploration into how a woman's sexuality, her connection to divine feminine creative energy and taking ownership of her own sensuality is the key to elevating all that Universal Knowledge to humanity's consciousness. Let everybody know we are all connected and there is no such thing as separation between me, you, and the Universe.  Oh, and I do it all while giving those horny housewives loads of fanny flutters. 😆
Remember, life is a journey and just because I wander doesn't necessarily mean I'm lost. Thanks for being a part of my enchanting life as a romance writer... one enchanted story at a time. Ella
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