V.E. Campudoni's Blog

When I began my pursuit in forwarding my education to obtained my Bachelor degree in Software development which eventually became a journey towards my Master’s in Information Technology , I thought my dreams of having a job working where I could provide my family a proper life would finally be realized.
I learned to create databases, make websites, power point presentations, creating spread sheets, designing reports, Javascripting, HTML, C-sharp, all the fun nook and crannies when it comes to programming as well as a sleuth of network security which included ethical hacking and when I had my degree in my hand, I thought all of my worries about money and job security was finally over.
While I earned my degree online I worked 60+ hours a week. I worked for a company where I was called “The token Spanish guy” and when I complained about it. I was forced to use my personal vehicle to deliver oxygen, only to be fired for using the company’s card to fuel my vehicle. I tried filing for discrimination, but it’s hard when it’s your word against so many.
Another job I was called a Spic by the owner’s son and I walked out of the job. At another position I dealt with workplace bullying and shortly before I obtained my Masters, I was working as a temp for a hospital for nearly four years without vacation, sick days, or medical benefits. I thought that now that I earned my degree, my problems would be over, but it was just the beginning.
I tried applying to work the hospital I was temping for, only to be passed over for recent high school graduates who were “better qualified” than me and there were several times I was passed over for people who were newly graduated for SU. I even attended a IT job fair at the hospital where it was only for people who applied prior for the job fair and the woman who I spoke to actually gave me verbal instructions on how to apply online. Afterward, she informed me that I should apply for janitorial services and after two or three years, request for a transfer. This highly annoyed me and yes, I complained about, but soon realized my complaint would get me blacklisted within the hospital. My 57 applications, all of which I was passed over for not being qualified were proof to me of that.
So I search for employment somewhere else and through a temp agency, I landed a job with a aero-logistic company in Endicott NY. The pay was great and according to the go between, they didn’t care that I have no experience. So I drove 180 miles every day just to go to work and it was a sink or swim environment. I received no training on what I had to do, everyone was programming with ADA which I had to give myself a crash course in and just as I was getting the hand of it. My contract was abruptly ended because they learned about my commute and thought it was unsafe. The last two contracts afterward were brief, but I learned a lot about data mining, Angular and reporting services.
I was unemployed for a year after that…
I had interviews and they all said that I was a stellar interviewer, but was passed over due to no experience. No one gave me a chance. I even wrote 5 novels and got them published during my hiatus. My kids had no birthdays, no Christmas, not much of anything that year. My oldest is questioning about college because they are using me as an example on why they shouldn’t bother. I’m $85,000 in debt and I’m struggling to keep my head afloat.
Currently, I’m making $12.00 an hour as a receptionist handling purchasing forms, updating databases, creating databases, power point presentations, updating the local website, filing and answering phones, installing servers, assisting with adding LAN lines and VOIP. Either I am the most underpaid receptionist in history or there’s something wrong with this in general.
We live in an era where the overqualified is under paid and the underqualified is over paid. Yet for basic entry level position – companies want people with years of experience that is not accountable for educational and it makes it more difficult when you earn your degree online. Mostly because companies don’t see it as a real degree; I was even told once during an interview that I should go to an accredited school which annoyed me.
Then there’s the lovely prove-it test. An exam that is design to “prove” that you know what you are doing. However, 90% of the questions that are asked are thing a newly graduate never did. During an interview I scored a 70 and they tried to tell me that they hired a fresh out of high school kid with no degree who scored a 90. It made me feel awful. Made me feel like I wasted 5 years of my life and all I got was this debt and I’m just tired - tired of trying to live the American dream because I am now realizing that it’s just a fantasy.

Recently, I had got a hate e-mail this morning based on how one of my characters used BDSM as a form of therapy to get over rape. I’m going to quote here. “How dare you portray BDSM as a coping mechanism for victims of rape, you should be a shame of yourself!” Now, I had done plenty of research on the matter, yet this particular complaint is quite common among my hate mail, so I am going to shed some light on the matter.
Human psychology is not always linear or straightforward, and the path to true healing is not, as many would believe, dedicated to sessions by a therapist, or survivor groups. Some people just keep that darkness within them and try to continue even though they are breaking apart inside. Often enough others lean on friends, time and their own intuition and survival skills. During my research a survivor told me that the reason why she never sought therapy was because she saw ‘the rapist’ instead of therapist.
Now we all know that BDSM is a blanket term that covers a wide variety of “sex play” including bondage and discipline, domination and submission, and sadism and masochism; however it also encompasses fetishes and kink play. Sex play is a natural drive shared by many individuals that is not only innate, but important to express especially when it comes to a survivor of rape or even abuse in general. In my book series, The Masked Emotions, one of my main characters, Nadia becomes a victim of a gang rape. I was told that many of the ways she dealt with the aftermath of her trauma were trigger points to many readers.
When it came to Nadia’s journey to face the trauma head on, I created a three step method in my book that would allow her to do so. Which was reclaiming your confident, body, and sexuality; I used BDSM as a way for her to cope with her trauma because based on my research of the many articles that I had read people praised its healing power.
Just imagine that you’re in the bedroom with a male or female. Together, you agreed on some initial ground rules and you started out with some light bondage to ease you into it, but soon it took no time at all to escalate your role as a sub where you hand reins to someone else – all while knowing you have full control with a safe word. Or as a Dom, where it’s your duty to provide care, willfulness and satisfaction to your Sub and because of that trust, it would allow you to break through one self-imposed boundary or trauma at a time with a confidence you’ll never felt before.
I read about people not only healing from their history of rape, but also year of domestic and child abuse, in some much unexpected ways. Mentally and emotionally, rewiring old thoughts and fears and conquering them to new heights in a way where talk therapy could not. Shedding the shame and fear and would allow them to let go and really reclaim themselves in a way that transcends the turmoil they endured. Feeling their body’s pleasure without self-imposed restraint, becoming more sexually powerful and becoming more aware of their body’s responses, and less concerned with how they might look or how someone else perceives them.
They allow themselves to become free. Free from what is drilled to us on what’s normal and what’s not when it comes to purity and deviance, sluts and shame; right and wrong; victims and trauma. In then end none of that matters because it’s just a Dom and a Sub, your bodies and imaginations based on your limitations within a world of trust.

Dear Anne Rice, Sylvia Day, CJ Roberts, EL James, CD Reiss, and Maya Banks.
I would like to say thank you. Your stories were extremely entertaining to read and they drew me into this world where I lost all track of time and that inspired me to become a better writer. All of you showed me what being passionate about your craft looks like. All of you ignited my passion for being an author and I cannot describe how grateful I am for this gift all of you have bestowed upon me. Your words were an inspiration. Your characters memorable and I hope that someday I could meet you just so I could shake your hands and personally thank you for being my inspiration. I am finishing up the final book to my series and I cannot wait to get to start the next one and that is all thanks to the six of you.

Sincerely,
V.E Campudoni

When I was young, I had a different view when it came to sex. Mostly because my father installed a particular idealism about sex that I believe at the time was the proper way of teaching someone sex. However, as a parent. I don't think I will never use the same methods, but I will use his explanation. I remember every syllable that came out of his mouth. It became a part of my psyche that I will never forget. His advice was almost sage-like. It helped me understand sex and a little about women.

You see, my father wasn't the "Let's sit down and talk about the birds and the bees" type. He was more proactive. When it came to the talk, he sat me down, popped a tape into the VCR and waited until it began. It was the first time I actually saw a porno. It was then he turned and said to me: "This is sex. There is a right way and a wrong way of doing it."

He pointed at the screen, "Sex could be a great expression of love or could be an expression of desire or is something that happens at the spur of the moment. It is both selfish and selfless. It could be used as a weapon, it could be used as a negotiation tactic, and it could be used as a means for revenge and when it comes to sex. You need to understand it's dangers. There are STD's. There's the possibility of unwanted pregnancies and yes they are dangerous, but being responsible by wearing condoms will prevent that. However, son, those are not the dangers I am talking about.'

"The dangers are emotional. When you have sex, you may feel a connection to that person and you want to keep that connection, but you must be prepared for the possibility that they don't feel the same for you and even if they do, there's the possibility that the only thing the two of you have in common is just sex and that is no way to start a relationship.'

"On that screen are paid actors having sex. Porn should be used as a means to learn new techniques. I see them as educational. But you must understand that life is not a porn movie. You are not going to talk to a woman and three minutes later the two of you are making out with your hands in each other's pants. Porn movies are live-action fantasies. That stimulate the senses. It awakens that carnal beast that everyone has within them. However, porn is not real, but it does have its value.'

"Son, it' important to know that women can be very cruel and they like to talk. If you are bad in bed. Her friends will know. Their friends will know and so on and so fourth. So use porn as a tool and not to get off. You must also understand that women are just like men. They will use you. Some will cheat on you. Some are abusive and some are passive. Sex is not a conquest or a final goal. However, there are men and women alike that see that way.'

"You also need to understand that just because a woman has a lot of sex doesn't make her a slut. In my personal opinion, a slut is a woman who uses sex for her own benefits. Someone who only cares about themselves and don't care about the carnage they leave behind and yes, men can be sluts as well.'

"If you pay for sex you must be extra careful. women who get paid for sex are called hookers. However, but you don't know their circumstances. You don't know if they were kidnapped and forced into it. You don't know if they have a hungry child at home and they are desperate. Or that they are homeless or that is all they know. The point is that you just don't know. Just because you are paying for it doesn't give you the right to treat them as your property.'

"The same goes when you have a lover. Just because the two of you are having sex, doesn't make them yours. Putting a ring on their finger doesn't make them yours. A relationship is always give and take. Communication is always important. You should ever lay a hand on a woman. Even if that woman slept with all of your friends and throws it into your face. Even if she hits you multiple times. You should never lay a hand on them and it's not because a man is stronger than a woman. I personally never believed that. A woman brings life and that is very painful.'

"You should never lay a hand on a woman because women are beautiful. Even the ugliest woman is beautiful and by hitting them, ruins that beauty. It creates a stain from within that can never be cleansed. It could be covered, but never clean. You should treat all women with the respect they deserve and make sure you use porn as a tool to keep them satisfied."

It was one of the greatest and weirdest advice my father ever gave to me and I was thirteen at the time. Perhaps my father thought that this was how you should introduce someone into the wild, crazy world that is sex and relationships. His advice has lots of merits, even til this day. He truly understood women and through the years, he gave more advice about love, marriage, friendship and begin a father that I will someday pass on to my children.

With that, I will end this with a famous saying from my father. "You will never unlock the mysteries that is a woman. Simply because just when you got them figured out. You realized it was only a single layer."

For the past month, I have been receiving a lot of hate mail and death threats and it's mostly aimed at my gender. "I hope you get cancer and die!" one person said. "Men don't write erotica, they don't get it!" another said and my personal favorite "Your sex scenes are boring and your characters, dumb. If Enzio truly wanted to be with Lana then he should wait for her. Not screw around. I hope your wife cheats on you and you get savagely murdered."

So I ask you, what's with the hate? I know I don't write in the same Calibur of E.L James, CJ Roberts or even Sylvia Day, but I write because I love to tell stories. Just that a few of my stories just happens to be erotic. However, every idea I ever had resonated around some kind of romantic conflict or a rational thought of the possibility of what if.

I am learning the hard way that there's a large assumption that a man can't write a good erotica. That only a woman could understand the pain of a woman or the trial and tribulations when it comes to that emotional journey in finding love. Yet I understand.

My debut novel, Linger (Masked Emotions book one), was started in August of 2015. I was unemployed and I was binge-reading the Crossfire series while my wife was watching binge watching a weeks worth of General Hospital and a rather interesting idea came into my mind. Why don't create a BDSM story and write it like a soap opera? and just like that, I began writing and I couldn't stop.

I felt like I needed to write this story. So I did my research. I spoke to Doms, Masters, Mistresses and their slaves. I wanted to know about the emotional aspects of the relationships and the drama surrounding their lives. I worked with a friend who was a former adult film star and on many occasions asked me to dig deeper, place more raw emotions into the story. Expand on the backstory of the other characters and whenever it wasn't presented properly, she called me out on it. This made my final version work.

As for the story of Enzio and Lana and the whole friend zone situation. I write what I see and from what I experience. I am the youngest of eight children. Growing up, all of my brothers already moved out and I watch my sisters with their male friends. Back then I didn't know if they were oblivious to their feelings or if they were downright cruel. Then when it was happening to me, I learned that it was a little bit of both and it was downright tortuous for a man. Especially when they know your feelings about them and they still want to remain just friends, but will complain about their lovers to you and then get jealous when you are seeing someone else.

So I express those feelings into my story. I can't say that I understand the female mind, in fact, I am far from it, but I called the women in my family (and there's a lot of them) and asked their opinion on this matter. I explained the storylines and I sit and listen, taking their opinions to heart. Then I will go to speak to various Mistresses, Doms, Subs, and Slaves and get their two cents in the matter as well.

I would sit down and would observe people and would document how they interact with one another. The way the girl would talk to a boy that she's into and see how he acts. Then I would see that same situation, but then watch the boy staring at the couple from afar and see that look of hurt and envy in their eyes. I spoke to rape survivors and listened to their emotions struggles. I did this because I wanted realism.

Did I expect an instant hit out of the park? No, not at all. In fact, I didn't expect any sales at all. I was told by many and I do mean many publishers that "Men who write erotica will not sell." I was even signed with a publisher who insisted that I should have a female pen name and when I refused, they dropped me. Then it was accepted by a publisher and I saw my book on Amazon two months later and I was ecstatic.

I don't now how the sales were doing, I haven't received my first royalty check yet and I have a handful of great reviews and a few not so favorable. Then I got my first few fan mail. (Approx 65) and I was happy that there were people out there that enjoyed my story. The majority of the fan mail came from people who delve in the BDSM lifestyle and they all say that I hit the nail on the head. They appreciate that I wrote it with the realism and courtesy that it deserve. I even have a club who asked me permission to allow them to use the club contract in my book for their place of business and I said yes. My personal favorite is the ones that told me that they reenacted the scenes in my book and that they were adding it to their punishment roster. I even got two fan art and it felt so surreal.

Then the hate mail came and the death threats. The magnitude of letters that told me that men don't get it. That a man do not understand women issues. How the rape scene is offensive and that I should be shot. That women does not toy with their male friend's emotions. How if a man truly wants to be with a woman that she is friend with, then he should wait and not be any women because it shows her how much he really cares. That I am nothing but a male pig that should be gutted. "Men who write erotica stinks! I don't care if your story is any good. I'm going to hate it anyway."

So my question to you is why the double standard? If you like my story, thank you. If you don't, I'll try harder next time, but your anger and hate are not necessary. If you would like to have a rational conversation, then by all means, please let's talk. I will listen to your opinion and I will respond in kind, but please leave you sheer bias and rage out of this. Leave my family out of this. It's just me and you.

I was told by a wise woman "When you buy a book from an author you're buying more than a story. You are buying numerous hours of errors and re-writes. You are buying moments of frustration and moments of sheer joy. You are buying countless hours of research and countless hours of lost sleep. You are not buying just a book, you are buying something they delight in sharing, a piece of their heart, a piece of their soul... A small piece of someone's life.

It's never too late to change your stars!... That would be what I say to myself if I was able to talk to my younger self but in all honesty. Even if I would be able to, my past self would think it was a load of B.S. You see, in my youth. I was just a hoodrat and that's all I thought I would be.

Growing up in Rockaway beach, I lived in Bay Towers on Beach 98 street and I always thought my options were limited. I was in special ed, where the majority of my teachers would come in, sit down and read a newspaper instead of teaching. Not caring to mold out minds. In sixth grade, I witness a classmate getting stabbed in the stomach with a pencil because he accidentally stepped on someone's sneakers. He didn't die, but there was a lot of blood.

In junior high school, I joined a gang. This was done in order to survive. Now, there maybe some of you who would say, that there's a choice. However, what if I tell you that there was no choice? I was getting into fist fights nearly every single day. Getting jumped once a month. I was picked on by the other gang members who were trying to force me to join them. I was constantly getting suspended and I was tired. It was around this time I began to write as a means to escape reality. As a means to keep me sane.

Eventually, I joined the one gang who hardly picked on me and afterward, the fighting stopped and I went back to my studies. Of course, because you are in a gang, there are certain problems and situations that will occur that is beyond your control.

I had friends who were murdered due to gang violence. I have friends who are serving a life sentence. That's a scary thought now that I wrote down. I'm only 38 and I lost nine friends to violence and six who couldn't get out. Yet back then as violent our lives were. We was just kids. We watched cartoons, went to the arcade, collected comics and yet we were basically child soldiers.

My father, God rest his soul knew why I joined and I knew he hated himself for not being able to move us away from the violence. However, he was there for me. Correction, he was there for all of us. My friends didn't have a father figure and he would try to steer them in the right direction, but he knew it was hard.

On several occasions we who would get beaten up by police officers simply because of the beads around our necks. On one occasion my friends and I were forced to line up against the large concrete wall of the handball court on 101st. Where the officers took turns just punching us in the face, laughing the entire time.

It may sound far-fetched, but I implore you to investigate the harsh police brutality in Rockaway Park during the mid to late nineties. Especially to the gang members. We never complained because we knew we never had a voice. I mean, who is going to believe a gang banger over a police officer?

Now, not all officers in Rockaway were bad. There were some who we highly respected and they never looked at us as thugs. They looked at us like children because that was who we were. Sadly, all good cops in Rockaway would eventually get transferred out and we get left with the officers that no one wants to deal with.

There was a detective, who name I will not say for legal reasons. He used to pick us up and take us to the empty field out by the fifties, just beyond Ocean Villiage. There he would have us sit in his car until another car pulled up.

We would watch as he and another detective would place bets, walk to their vehicles and pull us out. The two detectives would make us fight each other for their own amusement. There were rumors that they would have sex with the boys they picked up, but that never happened to myself or the others I was forced to fight with that evening.

It was then I made the decision that I needed to get out. Out of the gang life, out of Rockaway, but more importantly, out of the city. So, I went to my guidance counselor at Beach Channel High School and asked him on how to make that happen and he told me that I should drop out, go to an alternative high school and get my GED.

I was confused. I didn't want to drop out. I just wanted to make my life better. He then escorted me to the principal office where Mrs. Hassan and several security guards basically forced me to sign a piece of paper to make it so. When I told my father what had happened he was furious. For one, I was seventeen years old and a senior. So by making me sign myself out of school without a parent present was illegal.

So after threatening the school with a lawsuit. Mrs. Hassan allowed me to return to school, but she informed me that since I was in Special Ed, I was going to get a Special Ed diploma which still equals out to a GED.

She had this look on her face like she won. She then informed me that if I wanted a regular high school diploma, I would need to pass both my RCT and Regents and I had six months to make it happen.

So I took the challenge and with the help of my banger friends, they prepared me for my test and I passed. I graduated with a regular high school diploma. Did it bother me that those who passed their regents gotten a regent diploma? yes, but I was proud of my diploma. I earned it.

Up until my graduation day, I thought that living in the ghetto. I had no options. I honestly thought that I had no future. It wasn't until I had to take all of those tests in order to get a regular diploma was when I knew, I could do anything, be anything. My options weren't limited. My status in life was labeled as ghetto trash or a banger or a bum. It was a confident booster that I needed and that was my fuel to succeed.

Years later, I met a woman, married her and had three kids before we moved out of Rockaway and into Syracuse NY. Where I eventually went back to school. I worked sixty to seventy hours a week and earned my degree in software development and continued my education and earned a Masters in Information Technology.

Even though I kept working odd jobs, I had two additional children and I bought myself a house. Even though I was unable to get a job in the field of my study due to a lack of experience, I found a way to keep supporting my family instead of blaming others.

All the while I just kept writing. Then my wife told me to submit one of them. That deep down I'm a writer and I should stop denying my calling. So I picked one of my favorites and it was published. I guess what I am trying to say is that no matter where you're from. No matter the situation you are in, it is never too late to change your stars. Thank you for reading this.

The question I usually get from strangers who get surprised when I tell them that I hit 20 years with my wife in a few months is: What's your secret? I'm 38 years old and I met my wife at 19 and I knew she was the one. So what's my secret? That question had plagued me from the first day I got married and for apparently the next twenty years after T and I got hitched.
The question cannot be answered with a simple, "It takes communication" , "It takes trust" , or something cliche like "Love for one another." In reality, it takes all of it. sometimes the answer to the question depends on what happened that day, what happened that hour, or what happened five minutes ago. To me, it works because we keep no secrets from each other. The greatest advice I was given on my wedding day was "In order for a Marriage to work, you're spouse has to be your best friend. You have to tell each other everything down to the nitty-gritty." and he's right.
However, as the years goes by there are things you have to put up with as a couple which only strengthen your bonds. Annoying parents to kids friends. Awkward couple dates. Trying to make new couple friend, only to discover that they are miserable with one another or swingers... That is another blog post altogether.
Then there's the wonderful world of parenting that often becomes the clash of the titans when we disagree on a punishment. But there is one greatest key in making a marriage long and happy is SEX! Lots and lots and lots of sex! and I'm not talking some repetitive, mundane, predictable sex. You got to make love, have porn sex, spontaneous sex, public sex, SEX! Well, to me, I think that is one of the golden keys.

Yesterday I mistakenly made a relatively harmless remark to one of my daughters that she was beeing a bit moody. Suddenly, her shoulders drop. She then shoots me a ‘you’re an asshole’ eyes that she inherited from her mother, puts her pizza down with the aggression of a gauntlet being thrown, and stops eating.
Then I made my second mistake by asking her if she was on her period and she looked at me with such distained that I looked at my wife and she was trying poorly to suppress her laughter. However, I had to throw my imaginary gauntlet down when she started snapping at her sisters. Go I sent her to her room and in turn, she stomped her foot and slammed the door.
Three times... In a row. So the overreacted parent like myself, I decided to take the door of the hinge, turn off the power to her room and change the wifi password.
Yes, I overreacted, sadly at the time, I didn't see it that way. So my wife convinced the two of us to spend time together. (That means she yelled at the both of us.) I believe the words she used was "We barely could afford to go out as a family and now that we could; I'll be damned that the both of your attitudes ruin tonight. So help me God you don't make up right now, I will kick your ass and you will sleep on the couch for a week." So we made up rather quickly and to 'celebrate' the release of my second book I took the family went to the movies...
I don't know how this was a celebration. This was the first time in years that we saw a movie on the big screen. Seriously, the last movie I saw was Over the Hedge. I wanted to see Civil War. Oddly enough so did my wife. My kids, however, had other ideas. My two youngest wanted to see Angry Birds and my three oldest wanted to see Keanu. So I pulled the "I'm the daddy" card and picked Civil War. Then came the whining and the complaining and the stomping of the feet... By my three teenage daughters... The two youngest was just fine.
Normally, I am an advocate on piracy when it comes to movies but damn it. it friggin expensive! A hundred and thirty-five bucks. Then comes "the battle of the concessions!" and it's always popcorn, soda, and Twizzlers, Twizzlers, TWIZZLERS!
So I went el cheapo with the concession. One giant tub of popcorn, a large soda (both with unlimited refills) and four Twizzlers. I'm thinking maybe another fifteen bucks. Then the cashier tells me. "That will be $29.13."
"FOR A TUB OF F**KING POPCORN SODA AND F**KING TWIZZLERS?!" needless today everyone looked at me and in an act of cruel ironic fate. I was yelling at the boy who my oldest was crushing on. After that set of hurdles then came the "I'm bored," four minutes after we sat down.
When the trailers started I looked into my two youngest and I asked them. "You have to go to the bathroom?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You're not lying right?"
"No." Sure enough, the second the movie started, "I have to pee."
Ran to take the boy to the bathroom, 1, 2, 3. he was done and we ran back. There was some action on the big screen. "She has to go to the bathroom too." my wife said and I gave her a look.
"You take her," I whispered,
"I can't, she wants you to take her."
Grab daughter, ran to the bathroom and waited and waited and waited and waited and finally she came out. Ran back and apparently a building exploded and I missed it.
Then during the movie. "I know he's Captain America, but who's that."
"That's General Ross."
"Who's that?"
"That's the Black Panther."
"Who's that?"
"That's Peter Parker."
"Why does Spiderman talk too much when he's fighting?" I slowly turn my head and look at my three daughters. Inadvertently missing an awesome moment during the airport battle scene. Then came bathroom run number two and this involved number two. Had to hoover the four year old over the seat and the harsh discovery of no TP. None of the stalls had them. Had to use that rough paper towel, wet it and wiped his ass. Then ran to see, the last three minutes of the movie, but apparently the last fight scene was awesome...
I have decided that the next time I have to spend so much money. I rather sit in a candle light room and silently stare at my wife while we drink Margaritas while the kids are at home.

I don't know how these authors do it. Perhaps it's the first book jitters or the desperation to know that someone liked my story; I just started looking at those Amazon numbers. I was immediately hooked. At first, my stalking was somewhat subtle, checking on my numbers every other hour on Amazon and checking on Goodreads for a review.
For a few days, nothing. I actually thought my book sucked and was pretty bummed out. So I just kept on writing; then I got a great review! and another and another and those numbers on Amazon was getting smaller and smaller. I found myself looking at these pages every hour to see if the numbers change. Wondering why I was getting great reviews on Goodreads, but none on Amazon and I was trying to figure out why and this stalking was reflecting on my fourth book of the Masked Emotions series.
Then came my first criticize review and I was like "OH JOY! Someone gave me a backhanded compliment!" Then it became my obsession. I was Googling my book, promoting my book on Facebook groups to the point that FB told me "Hey, buddy. Back off. I'm grounding you!" It felt almost compulsive checking out my book and patiently waiting like an eager little puppy from the book reviewers.
This morning my second book came out and after I submitted copies to various reviewers. I felt so embarrassed by the hours I've wasted tracking meaningless social media ephemera, but at the same time, I met so many awesome authors. Take the good with the bad I guess.
I was able to conversate with Stevie J. Cole, MJ Fields, Selena Kitt (That one made me so giddy!) and Shayla Black. Through them, I was advised to join the RWA, which I did. I'm hoping that I could meet my three favorite authors in this genre someday which are Roxy Sloane, Sylvia Day and CJ Roberts and thank them for inspiring me to become a writer in this genre. Their way of storytelling really captivated me and propelled me to become better. Knowing me, if I eventually meet them, I'll act like a fanboy and my kids will make fun of me for the rest of the day, bringing it back up whenever they need a good laugh.
I hope I am not alone in this. I love the idea of admitting the messed up things we do and realizing that we are not alone.

I have to give so much respect to the bloggers out there who do this on a daily basis. There's a real talent for the men and women who share what they love, do, or gossip about. I was told that it is best to allow the readers to know who you are by blogging every other day.
However, I don't know what to blog about! I could blog about my book, but then it makes me open up my MSWord and start typing. Especially if a great idea pops in my head.
Then I thought about blogging about being a husband and a father of five. Yet, I don't know if anyone would even want to know that. Yesterday, I had the bright idea about blogging about what S&M means to me, but it really started to look creepy and I quickly deleted it.
So I decided to go to the basics. Why did I write a book based on this genre? In all honesty, it was because of my wife. I was a struggling in trying to get my horror novel published and my wife couldn't stop talking about how great the crossfire series was and that I should read it.
Of course, I just gave her a weird look and I said: "I'm a guy, I'm not reading that shit." But then I looked at the large plethora of books my wife had, all in the same genre and without her noticing, I began reading them. There were some that were good and there were others that weren't. Seriously it made me wonder how they were able to get it published.
Then I noticed something else, they were all the same. Sure the cast of characters was different, but the situation was the same. This Cinderella scenario. Don't get me wrong, it does make a compelling read, but it was still the same. Then I began reading the dark BDSM novels and there was some that were just too dark and it made me angry just by reading it. And that is when I gotten inspired to write my story.
I wrote the first three books of the series within four months and I lied to my wife on what I was writing. I did this not because I was ashamed. I wanted her honest opinion. So I told her a relative of mine wrote it and I was proofreading it for her and I asked her for her opinion considering all the books she read is all in this genre. She fell in love with the story and wanted more and that was all I needed.
I sent my book out to God knows how many publishers. I was even picked up by Blushing books at first, but they release me from my contract a month later. Citing "Contemporary and erotic romance written by men don't sell well." Then they suggested that I use a female pen name, but I refused. After two additional months of submission and denial. I was picked up by Beau to Beau and they gave me a chance.
My book was published on April 27th and currently my rank is 122 for erotic romance, but those numbers change every hour and it gets very confusing after awhile. I was then informed that my second book Longing was being released on May 19 and my publisher is releasing the third on two weeks after that and so on until the fifth and final book. So I am writing like a mad man. It's one thing if the books are fifty to a hundred pages, but each book is over two hundred or over four hundred pages long so I am a bit drained. But in a good way.
I am currently 124 pages into my fourth book and I am still in the beginning. This might be a five hundred pager and then it's off to write the final bool. When I am done I am taking a two week break and then write my next series whis I had already penned down. Thank you everyone for your support and I truly hope you enjoy the Masked Emotions.