Trout Nation Posts

Sorry for skipping this one. My brain hasn’t been right lately. My original intention was to do chapters nine and ten together because chapter ten was so short. But I guess I only followed through with half that plan. And not in the right order.

And a good day to you, and you, and you.

It’s the second month of the year and, frankly, I’m pretty happy with how my relationship to goal setting and productivity developed in January. Let’s take a look at the goals I set for myself for what turned out to be one of the most brutal and unhappy months of my entire life:

• • 4 ACOTAR posts Well, I didn’t make this goal. I made half the goal, though, and in a month where I lost my best friend and two relatives to, you know, death, I’m really proud that I got halfway and didn’t just get overwhelmed and shut down my Patreon altogether. “Wait,” you might be asking. “You have a Patreon where you’re currently shredding Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses to bits in sheer frustration, the same way you approached your classic Fifty Shades of Grey recaps?” Yes, friend. I do. And while I’m committed to producing two recaps per month, I really would rather do one per week. If I go at that pace, we’ll be done with the book in June, just in time for me to head off on my annual writing retreat to the Upper Peninsula and you’ll be able to vote on the next title while I’m gone. But that’s a larger goal. We’re thinking monthly.
  • 1 chapter TBCVT Here’s one I get a lil’ star for! I managed to post a chapter of The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp.
  • upload Bound in Brass I managed to accomplish this one, too! I didn’t have much of a choice, because once you put up a pre-order, retailers get real, real strict about deadlines. I put off formatting and uploading because of grief and ended up formatting and uploading while suffering from Covid-19. This has taught me an important lesson: no procrastination in times of plague. But I got it done and uploaded with time to spare, and you can buy it (if you didn’t have a chance to grab it before it went out of print for the first time) at Smashwords or Amazon.
  • 1 chapter In The Blood This is the book I meant to lightly polish and re-release. Then it turned into much darker erotic horror. Darkness didn’t fit with the theme of me surviving the month, so we can let this one slide.
  • 1 chapter Queen of Hell Slowly but surely, the follow-up to my YA novel, Nightmare Born, is getting written. I completed a new chapter and even went through and tightened up my outline.
  • 1 video Do you love Stardew Valley but wish you could see someone play it while being very, very high? Well, another installment of my Jenny Destroys the Wholesomeness of Stardew Valley series is up. I’m still trying to get to 1,000 followers so I can use mobile data to stream (and therefore do live tarot get-togethers again), so even if you’re not into my videos, hitting that subscribe button would be a huge help. I’m so close!

 

In the past, I would have looked on this past month as a failure, but as I said, my relationship to productivity is changing. January really had a lot to do with that; I was able to look at all the things I did get done despite the horrible circumstances and say, “this is enough.”

Here’s a little secret I learned: forgiving yourself for falling short of the mark makes you actually want to achieve your goals the next time around. This is what I’m trying to achieve in February:

• 4 ACOTAR posts
• 2 chapters TBCVT
• 2 chapters Queen of Hell
• 2 Crave posts
• 5 “episodes” of TBA serialized project
• 2 videos

Will this be a lot of work in a month when I’m playing Sister Mary Patrick in Sister Act: The Musical (playing for four performances February 25-27, tickets available here)? Yes, it sure will be. But I’m gonna try.

How about yous all? Do you have any goals for the month of February? Put them in the comments and come back and see how everybody did in March!

(PS. a side goal is getting that second promised free steampunk short story re-released. Mea culpa, it fell by the wayside with everything else that happened.)

 

bear with me, i’ll be back when i no longer have covid.

Due to lowered brain power, I posted this before I finished writing/posting chapter nine. Hang in there. I’ll do chapter nine next and we can all forget this ever happened.

We did it. We made it through nine whole chapters before we hit the one where my pink-ish flags turned bright, bright red. And then turned into klaxons. And a Dr Pepper commercial.

Need to catch up?

• What is The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp? 
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Prologue
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter One
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Two
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Three
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Four
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Five 
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Six 
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Seven
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Eight 
• The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp: Chapter Nine

THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW BECAUSE TWITTER WANTED TO KNOW HOW A CENTAUR MASTURBATES

Jill and I met in 1994, freshman year gym class. I was brand new. All the other kids were from local Catholic feeder schools. When the teacher sadistically instructed us to pick a partner during the very first day of class, the only two students left without a partner were Jill and me.

But she said I couldn’t be her partner because she’d already partnered up with an invisible friend.

It wasn’t a joke. She refused to be my partner.

That’s how we became friends.

On January 6th, 2022, Jill died suddenly in her sleep.

In the course of our friendship, we went to all sorts of places together. We saw the Liberty Bell together. She pointed at a painting of Benjamin Franklin and John Adams reading the Declaration of Independence as Thomas Jefferson looked on.  She leaned over and said, “Hey, can I get your John Hancock on this?”

It’s still the funniest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.

Jill found the cold, impersonal nature of the “have a good summer” yearbook signature perfect for birthday cards and books and basically anything she could write on and give to me. She gave me the same birthday card every year. It’s a plain white card with “Happy Birthday! I got you a card! This is the front.” The inside read, “This is the inside.” And on the back, “This is the back.” When I recently directed a show, she came and brought me a card she made. “You directed a show! I got you a card. This is the front.”

Once, we were at the mall. Bath and Body Works had a seasonal candle with Elton John’s name on it. Jill picked it up, took the lid off, inhaled, then said to the sales associate, “This doesn’t smell anything like him.”

My heart is broken.

We had a running joke where we’d always ask each other, “are you mad at me?” We never were. Neither of us could remember a time we were ever in a fight.

When someone dies, their texts and messages don’t disappear. You can still see your ongoing conversation as if it could keep going. I sat in front of our open messenger chat and typed, “This time I really am mad at you.” I couldn’t send it. I don’t want her to think I’m really mad at her. It’s not her fault.

I don’t know how to be me without her.

We both made Spotify playlists about each other. Mine is titled, “Jill and Jen BFFs 4Eva” and she called hers, “IDK, my BFF Jen?” due to the fact that we constantly referenced that old cellphone commercial where the little girl is texting, “IDK, my BFF, Jill?” Both playlists have “our” song, “Little Wonders” by Rob Thomas, on them. They also both have liberal doses of the Spice Girls because they were our thing. 

We had thousands, maybe tens of thousands, probably millions of things that were our thing.

There are more photos of Jill on the walls of my home than there are photos of my kids. To be fair, I’ve known Jill longer.

Once, we spent an entire day using MS Paint to draw “Ghost Frank” (he looks exactly how you’d imagine an MS Paint ghost to look) into photos with the Beach Boys. Ghost Frank is the fifth Beach Boy, no matter what John Stamos thinks. It’s just that nobody acknowledges Ghost Frank because he accused Brian Wilson of stealing his wallet. I tried to joke with Mr. Jen that I had to break the news to Ghost Frank and that he would be devastated. But Mr. Jen didn’t get it. Only Jill would get it.

Jill is gone.

Our jokes, our codes, the language of our friendship is a dead language now. Only one speaker is left and it is impossible to teach. It takes twenty-seven years to become fluent.

Jill is my best friend. Jill is gone.

---

I wrote this throughout the day yesterday after I got the call. I can’t decide who to be or how to be a Jenny who doesn’t have a Jill. So, I’m going to just run on autopilot. I’m going to work, I’m going to rehearsals, I’m going to consider whether or not I could sit through her funeral with dignity or if I can’t bear to think of a life where I’ve been to Jill’s funeral because Jill’s funeral was a thing that happened. But please, as you see me posting content here and over on Patreon, as you see me living my life as usual, please don’t think it’s because I don’t care about her. It’s just because I’m sleep-walking through life with a broken heart.

Not to be all, “What I did over summer break” here, but I feel like doing something radical like “taking a whole year off and just doing whatever the fuck I feel like while supporting myself solely with blogging and my backlist” is worth examining. Because first of all

It was terrifying. Anybody who’s switched careers or considered switching careers or took a gap year of any kind knows the terror of “what if.” Specifically: what if I’m fucking up my entire life when I could keep my head down and slog. And that was a valid concern for me. I was killing off a pen name and moving away from writing romance, but I was also trying to move into other areas like art and youtube videos and animation and even game design. If not for yous all, I would have been flat on my ass. Patreon support and private donations kept me afloat throughout 2021 and believe me, it wouldn’t have been a very creative year if I’d been plunged into sudden poverty. So, thank you all for that, because I’d forgotten that

I’ve done scary things in the past and I just forgot about it. 2022 is actually the tenth anniversary of my Fifty Shades of Grey recaps. It was absolutely terrifying to write those. I knew that a career in traditional publishing would never happen for me again when I started tearing into another, more successful (and, as it turns out, wildly vindictive) author’s work. I truly believed I would write those for an audience of eight or so people and then fade into obscurity and further poverty, a failure like I always knew I would be. But my entire life changed. I took that risk and it led to writing arguably my most successful series ever. How did I manage to forget that it all started with doing something scary, taking a leap of faith that was actually more of a l’appel du vide thing? Ten years ago, I was burned out and at the end of my rope, but somehow I’d forgotten that steering hard in a totally different direction was the way to go. Now,

There is so much more joy in creating. I’d reached a point where I wasn’t having fun anymore. I could still create stuff, I could still pay the bills, but I’d become monumentally dissatisfied with what I was devoting my time to. Now, I’m fully engaged and having fun, even with the stuff I started before I went off to find myself. I don’t want to give the impression that I dislike working on stuff to share with you all or that you’re all some kind of massive obligation I resent. There are just times that it becomes overwhelming and frustrating because it’s not going as quickly as I would like or I’m not able to work at the same pace 2012 Jenny was able to pull off. I never resented my awesome Trout Nation citizens, but I’ve resented myself for not cranking out the hits faster. This, in turn, fed into this awful self-loathing about how ungrateful and lazy I am, until the thought of making or doing anything was a nightmare. Now that the burnout is gone, the self-loathing and inward resentment cleared up enough to handle another really important block, which was my failure to realize that

If people want my work, they’ll buy it. This was a mind-blowing thought I had when I saw someone post one of those tired “I made a thing go buy it maybe”-style promotional tweets (which I have been guilty of in the past): why the fuck do people spend so much time apologizing for creating something and selling it? Like it’s some kind of imposition on our fellow humans who, and I cannot stress this enough, will not buy something they do not want. I had started to feel like I was inconveniencing people by releasing a book and promoting it, by having a Patreon and charging for blog posts on there, I just felt like everything I created was me actively making a nuisance of myself. I was like Oliver Twist, please sir, can you buy this? And then I thought about this one author back in the day whose Twitter feed was just every five minutes, buy my book, buy my book, 5 stars, buy my book. Even in the midst of a personal tragedy, she found time to tweet that it had happened, then responded to all the supportive replies with “it would make me feel better if you’d buy my book and leave a review.” I know in my heart, to its very depths, that I have never been that obnoxious about my self-promotion, and I also know for a fact that I never bought a book from that author because of how obnoxious and opportunistic she was. And guess what? That’s everybody’s choice on the whole planet. My fear that someone will buy my books, read my blog, join my Patreon, look at my videos, etc. because they feel somehow forced and then they will hate me forever is completely unfounded. I’m not scamming anyone for making stuff and offering it for sale. I also learned that

I don’t like writing books. I really, really don’t. You know what I do like to write? I like writing The Business Centaur’s Virgin Temp. I liked writing The Boss as a serial. I enjoy writing serials and I don’t enjoy sitting down, writing something in one big, long go, feeling lonely and invisible, putting it for sale, watching it make something of a blip for a few days, and then…that’s it. There’s really no sharing of the journey, no feeling that what I’m writing will even touch anybody’s eyeballs. I’m writing for an audience of one for a year, then I put it up for sale and…there it is. It’s just there. I’ve been cool with that in the past, during my traditional publishing career, because there wasn’t any other way. But after I wrote The Boss as a serial, I stayed dissatisfied for a lot of years, thinking more than once, “Gosh, I wish I could go back to what it was like writing The Boss.” I remember nights when I was so obsessed with getting that next chapter out, I’d be typing with one hand and cooking with the other. That was the energy that first drew me to writing through fanfic, and that’s the energy I need to get back to. On the fiction side, you’re going to see a pivot toward more serialized content that will later get published in book format for people who’d rather read it all in one go. But overall, my focus is going to be

BLOGGING.

I don’t know why I keep clinging to this idea that because I started out as a fiction writer, I must stay a fiction writer forever or die penniless in the streets. I don’t have to. Fiction is about to become a side job, a hobby/job, so I can focus on the writing that I realized I enjoy a lot more. That’s writing stuff here and sharing it with all of you and reading but never responding to your comments because I get easily overwhelmed. I like saying stuff and having people say stuff, often smarter stuff, back. I like feeling that I’m not just putting words into the void, the way I do with writing. What I learned is that to create, I need to have a community of like-minded people to share those ideas and projects with and I need to feel like I’m not working in a dark little office alone.

Thanks for bearing with me during a year of sparse blog content while I went out and:

• Started designing t-shirts and stuff
• Tried my hand at learning animation
• Spent some time figuring out Godot and whether or not I’d like to make a videogame
• Directed a production of Moana Jr. that broke records at its theater

Okay, quick break to be a proud director:

(This was my favorite scene of the show. These kids are, I believe, fourteen and seventeen and they made me cry every night.)

And of course, just time to figure out what I need to keep going in the “unprecedented times” we’re all so #blessed to be living in. I hope that everybody finds at least some little way to be an explorer this year, and may you all find your way through the burnout.

 

In part one, I told you of the wonders of blue alien peenus.

Now, we’re gonna talk about jacking off minotaurs.

It’s not a joke, it’s not a Chuck Tingle book. Morning Glory Milking Farm is an urban fantasy romance set in a charmingly bonkers world in which various fairytale creatures live and work side-by-side with people in the normal, boring world. It’s part of a series by C.M. Nascosta, but at this point, I’m only recommending Morning Glory Milking Farm because I DNFed the other book due to reasons we’ll discuss within this review.

On cover alone, this book would have never ended up on my Kindle. And to be perfectly honest, now that I’ve read the book? The cover is fucking gross. However, what’s inside the cover is what matters with this one. And yes, what’s inside the cover is a story about a woman who jacks off minotaurs…into old-school glass milk bottles.

You know what? Let’s not focus on the cover.

The human heroine, Violet, is struggling financially when she finally lands a well-paying job with a pharmaceutical company in nearby Cambric Creek, a community of mythological creatures. Turns out, minotaur semen has scientific and medical applications, and these guys make a little extra cash for selling it. Violet’s job is to, well.

Look, she jacks off minotaurs. There’s no other way to put it. That’s the job. she sits under a massage-table type bench with a hole in it and jacks them off. It’s clearly inspired by milking table porn, so if that’s your kink, there’s plenty of that going on in here and it’s surprisingly hot. Just like with Ice Planet Barbarians, it’s a story that you could find on Literotica.com, in the best possible way. There’s solid worldbuilding, there’s heat, there’s humor, and a surprisingly slow burn on the romance plot, considering the heroine gets well acquainted with the hero’s undercarriage as the meet-cute.

Rourke is a minotaur whose POV we’re never in, so despite how much I liked this book, I can’t say that I know anything about his character beyond “he’s hot and has a fancy minotaur dick.” This is another part that has confused me; the way his dick is described, it sounds more like a horse dick than a bull dick, but that doesn’t really matter when as a minotaur, he’d just have a regular human dick, right?

Don’t get hung up on the dicks. Violet is likable, the scenes at the “milking farm” are hot, and eventually, someone fucks a minotaur. The worldbuilding is exciting to me. I mean, it’s mythological creatures living human-ish lives among humans in human-style settings. I was so excited when I realized that was the set-up. I wanted to call up C.M. Nascosta and be like, “HEY, ME TOO!” Those types of settings are so fun to write and read, and this is like if she took ’00s urban fantasy worldbuilding and went, “you know what would look great in this? Minotaur erotica.”

Now, my original intent was to finish another of Nascosta’s monster romances set in Cambric Creek, Girls Weekend. The concept was cool and I really expected to be adding it to this post as another “must-read” but I can’t. Unfortunately, Girls Weekend falls into a trap that that’s hinted at near the end of Morning Glory Milking Farm: species becomes a stand-in for race.

Once Violet and Rourke are dating, she meets his neighbors, an orc and an elf who are in a romantic relationship together. Their story is one of the plot threads in Girls Weekend, which I DNFed when it started to read a lot like sex tourism fantasies of visiting far-off places and having sex with the not-white men who live in them. In this case, the orcs read like they were a green-washed version of porn-fetishized Black guys and the pastel-colored heroines talk about them like sex is a sure thing because orcs are sex-hungry brutes. The fact that one of the elves meets up with a character who’s, for lack of a better word, biracial, and immediately describes him as having a narrower nose than other orcs was a red flag; so was the fact that upon finding out one of his parents was an elf, the elf character notes that this makes him more attractive to her.

The problem is, species getting swapped for race in fiction is a 90º slope that’s marked as a bunny hill.  You’d think you could avoid doing it by accident, but unless you’re hyperaware of stuff, you can end up rolling down the hill ass-over-tea-kettle. The monster erotica subgenre is a pounding avalanche of that trope right now, and unfortunately, Girls Weekend is another snowflake added to the pile.

But Morning Glory Milking Farm doesn’t delve quite so deeply into the idea of “biracial” orcs or interspecies relationships. The human/minotaur incompatibility of Violet and Rourke is largely constrained to stuff like having to get special detergent to break down the quarts of bull semen that end up on her sheets when he ejaculates and how to make a relationship work when one of you can’t comfortably fit inside the other’s apartment. There’s a brief conversation with the couple from Girls Weekend in which the elf hints at difficulties being in an interspecies relationship, but the culture clash element isn’t a major theme in Morning Glory Milking Farm.

I really loved and highly recommend Morning Glory Milking Farm, because it’s a fun time. Girls Weekend let me down, but I’ll give another book by C.M. Nascosta a try, in the hopes that Girls Weekend is just a dud and the same mistakes won’t get repeated. And you should give Morning Glory Milking Farm a try. It’s cute, it’s funny, it’s filthy, and it surprisingly lives up to its hype.

Slight change of plans; I was going to release this on Jennifer Morningstar’s YouPorn account, but there’s been a slight delay in getting that set up. So, please enjoy this Smashwords freebie, back from the out-of-print void!

 

Jilted bride Lady Catherine Stelling would have never considered running away with a rogue, but that was before notorious pirate Christopher Valentine set his sights on her faithless fiance’s prized airship.

Read this fun, silly, sexy steampunk story here!

And don’t forget, I’m bringing more of my sexy steampunk back from the void! Look for details here!