Anonymous forwarded the following to me, and of course, I have to inflict it on the rest of you. Enjoy.
Kerrelyn Sparks’s Eat Prey Love is, in my opinion, a What Not to Write, but the “werepanther spooge” part sticks out.
Some background: Our hero is a shapeshifting werepanther, and when he is killed, he comes back to life and kinda goes up a level in strength, abilities, etc. all Marty-Stu-like. And when he comes back to life, he needs sex. The first time he dies, he hasn’t quite hit that point with our heroine yet, so he has to go off into a corner of the cave they’re stuck in and, well, take care of himself. On the way out of the cave, the author somehow feels compelled to draw our attention to the puddles of werepanther spooge left on the cave floor by our masturbating hero.
“Watch your step here.” He maneuvered her to the left.
She shone her flashlight down to see what he was avoiding. It was a whitish puddle. “What is that? Rainwater with chalk or lime deposits?” She beamed her light at the ceiling to look for drips.
He snorted. “That was from me.”
Her face grew warm. “Oh.”
He led her forward. “There’s another one here. Watch your step.”
Her flashlight picked up a second puddle in the middle of the path. Her face blazed hotter. “Okay.”
It’s jarring. It’s weird. It’s not funny the first time, and by the second time it’s just rubbing the reader’s face in it. It reads like bad fanfic, the kind where you realize the author has some weird fetish you don’t and they keep bringing it up at uncomfortable times.
OK, there has to be some lines drawn here, and I draw the first at Puddles of Spooge. There is no reason for spunk puddles. Really. Not ever. Don’t try to tell me there is romantic demand for man pudding deep in the cave because I will not believe it, not even if you are making jewelry out of them. I refuse to accept that jizz dribbles are needed in romance. And you can thank Zoe Archer for that last link.
Ugh! Man spuzz! Not classy!
what the hell? ok, if you need to burn off some were-mojo by jacking off, that’s one thing, paranormal stuff works in mysterious ways, but why the crap would you let loose where you’re going to be *walking*? aim for a corner or the wall or something. the tunnel/cave/whatever can’t be THAT small if he’s maneuvering the heroine around the puddles. (also, multiple puddles? that’s one hell of a recovery time…)
i mean, ya gotta do what you gotta do, but jizz landmines (jizzmines?) are just inconsiderate!
Oh dear. This is next on my TBR pile. Well… I guess I will have to count on my powers of oblivion to get me through that scene.
Who. Would. Wear. That. Necklace????
My eyes!!!
At least we’re past the days of the hero needing to slake his lust on the nearest whore. Shall we call them love-puddles?
I agree with Minna, at least some romance novelists realize that they can have their heroes have uncontrollable sex drives AND not be rapists thanks to masturbation.
Which I think is really hot.
But cold semen? Isn’t.
Is it just me . . . or is the sheer volume of happy juice supposed to imply a high level of superstudness?
‘Cause that ranks right up there with habitual soggy panties.
Turn off the sploogeworks and get to the emotional romancin’, please. Just sayin’.
Blech, just blech! And two puddles of it?? How many times would it take to fill a puddle that was still visible to the naked eye and had to be avoided sometime later. After all, it’s called “the lovin’ spoonful” and not “the lovin’ ladle-ful” for a reason.
I guess I’m from the old school, but when I read a romance novel, I don’t really want to know what the hero does in private to, ya know, “get over,” until the heroine decides he’s the one for her.
Spam filter: men26. Is that in miligrams?
I really hope no one will disagree with you.
these78—don’t step in them, I guess…..
Here I was caught up in my NaNoWriMo anguish of crafting a good scene, taking a little break, having a moment of writing anguish over choosing just the right words…and then there is this…Thank you, I don’t feel so bad anymore, I have not written any descriptions of ‘Pearl Necklaces” or leftover shifter spooge, (at least not yet..and now I won’t feel tempted to…not that I had.)
Spooge in a cavern? Got to admit, it’s symbolic…
The necklace is not that bad (who the hell is going to know that is supposed to be jizz except for the buyer) … however, the model looks like a corpse … is that vampire jizz from Twilight, where the makes semen is supposed to be poison? Just curious :>
Joking aside, if she was going for sexy, that was an EPICFAIL…
Ewww, Have some decorum. I don’t mind the idea of the hero masturbating, but I don’t need details. And Puddles? Really? How much semen would it take to make a puddle? Gross.
I have no words for that necklace. Well ‘cept tacky.
Mireya beat me to it. I’m seeing that picture and thinking morgue slab!
However, I’m also thinking of hitting CafePress for a ‘There is no reason for spunk puddles’ coffee mug.
Except for the man jizz parts, how was the rest of the book??? I was going to go buy it today, but now…
Ahem. I believe it is spelled “SPLOOGE”—the “L” is very important.
I was so caught up in the book that I didn’t really pause to think about the splooge. But now that you point it out…EWWWWW!
But I absolutely loved the book!
If you think the pearl necklace idea was strange, wait till you see the Consumption Dinnerware, by the same artist:
http://www.leahpiepgras.com/objects/gallery/consumption/index.php
“the dishes are a map of the digestive track from mouth to anus”.
Wonder if she does a bridal registry?
…This post just compelled me to use ‘standard ejaculate volume and amounts’ as a Google search term.
Damn you, Kerrelyn Sparks.
Nagaina made me curious.
Apparently, he better not be a Florida were-panther. And from the chart on page three, looks like we’re talking 2-4 millileters, not puddles. But then again, he’s all preturnatural and were-studly, so you never can tell. Please. Don’t tell us.
I don’t know if these “What Not to Write” were supposed to dissuade readers, but I’m finding them hilarious and tempting. The last subject was about twinkie legs and I happened to download the freebie before this was mentioned. Now, I HAVE to read it. This Sparks books is on my TBR and it looks like I’ll have to bump it way up. Ha ha!
Agree with you all the way, but, really, aren’t you just exacerbating the problem by using the phrase “rubbing the reader’s face in it?”
:o)
How much can he possibly produce if it leaves an actual puddle? There has to be something wrong with him.
And isn’t the whole business of drawing the attention of the heroine to the mass quantities just kind of, I don’t know, Guy Who Whacks Off in Traffic so People Might See Him-ish? Although I guess if she was having a bad hair day, this might have been his gentle suggestion that she needs to use some hair product in a sort of a Cameron Diaz sort of a way.
Does the whole book contain the same SouthParkian brand of humor? I read a book once in which the opening scene was straight out of South Park but the rest of the book was totally bland. It was jarring, to say the least.
I made fun of this book before you did, nah nah nah nah… 😉 http://www.rljean.com/make-it-stop/
Granted, I hadn’t read the spooge bit, but I KNEW, deep down inside, that this was a book worth mocking.
Bet that was something spelunkers wouldn’t expect—spunk
Hee! And ew! And thanks for the NanoWriMo break, I feel less silly about my own descriptions now. I’ve been seeing this book everywhere I shop and thought the pun title was amusing but wasn’t sure if I wanted to pick it up. Now that I see it might be hillarible, I’ll have to find out if my library has it.
What I can’t believe, though, is that the heroine couldn’t smell the pudding. What is this werepanther eating that his pudding don’t smell, I wonder?
Yes. Exactly.
Call me old-fashioned, but there is a difference between romance and sex, although they do overlap. It’s a bell curve. This is definitely in the end of the bell curve, the end where I don’t want to go walking. (Literally or figuratively. I mean – ew.)
Here’s another thought for you: don’t cat wangs come equipped with SPINES? One can only imagine what the man-bits of a werepanther would look like in EITHER form.
…I have never understood the preoccupation that some writers have with werecat sex. You’d think that, at some point, someone would crack open a book about cat biology to the bits about feline breading, scream “MY EYYYYYEEEEES!”, and spare themselves and everyone else a lot of resonant mental trauma.
It’s funny what some people notice – I read the book, loved it (KS writes fun, light, angst-free pnr – a nice break!) – and while I read about the puddles, I never gave them a second thought – barely even noticed them.
Okay, the promo images for those pun-tastic necklaces are hilarious. I’m inspired. I’m drawing a dude version. With lip-biting.
OMG, the spunk puddles are bad, but the necklace! Yikes! I mean, even if you want to do the whole “pearl necklace” thing (personally, no), do you really want to wear a necklace reenacting it for the world? And don’t forget about serving your guests food with a picture of their bowels on it. Yum!
There isn’t enough D: to describe my face right now.
I’m just amazed that in extremis he was able to get it into neat little puddles. That has not been my experience. Wait… Observation?
Anyway, guy masterbating? Lauren Dane’s “Coming Undone”. Elise tell Brody afterward how hot it was, and yeah, it was.
And for years whenever I spilled something on myself, I’ve noted to others that I’ve splooged myself. Well, I guess that’s never happening again.
between the splooge, necklace and dishware, i just threw up in my mouth a little. and no…i won’t be making art out of that either.
I’m willing to make allowances for different tastes, but I thought the cave scene was hilarious. Romance is messy and funny and slightly uncouth. If you’re familiar with Carlos’s character across the entire Love at Stake series, the spooge puddles are ridiculous, especially the last huge one that she thinks is his, but he has to point out is rain water. And its all just a set up for that one joke anyway, so read it, continue and go on with your life.
The book is still good, the series is still wonderful and I have to say, while maybe not the best cum-joke in the world, it still made me giggle and read the passage out loud to Hubby.
Kimi McG
If no one likes to sleep on or discuss “the wet spot”, then NO one wants to step in or even imagine…ewwww! What was that writer and her editor THINKING?? EW!!!
I believe the wear-as-jewelry was a reference to a “string of pearls”? :snerk:
Now if you want a REAL hurl fest, check out this cookbook:
Natural Harvest, a Collection of Semen Based Recipes.
Not kidding, wish I was.
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/natural-harvest—-a-collection-of-semen-based-recipes/5198959
The hilarious and nauseating cover copy claims that spooge:
“is inexpensive to produce and is commonly available in many, if not most, homes and restaurants. Despite all of these positive qualities, semen remains neglected as a food.”
Gosh. Can you imagine why? Maybe the spermicide in the condoms tampers with the taste.
Inexpensive to produce?? Apparently the author hasn’t priced porn mags lately. One would expect the cook to be a lonely single guy. I don’t know a woman alive who would want to hang out in THAT kitchen, never mind the bedroom!
Please DO read the reviews. Beverage alert about the one that claims “unless your (sic) a lesbian or some such, you have probably drunk semen”
Or some such? Would love to know what a “some such” is to that person. (Um, no, I wouldn’t.)
If I thought my favorite eatery included jizz in the ingredients I’d be calling the cops, the health department, and Oprah. It’s bad enough I have to worry about someone spitting into my burger, let alone jacking off over the grill.
Hint to sexy cooks—never fry bacon while nekked.
THANK YOU for my laugh of the week!
Read the book last week and was not bothered by the puddles in the cave. Actually found the reference to the second one amusing.
So I’m going to have to disagree with you in spite of the other Karen’s hopes. (But I totally agreed with your previous WNTW.)
I almost picked up this book on the strength of the title and now I’m glad I passed on it. I don’t need visions of big, splashy puddles of kitty jizz dancing in my head while I work on my NaNo project (my heroine is a cat burglar but she knows enough not to leave, um, physical evidence at a crime scene.)
I’m not even going to approach how bad the book sounds but must comment on the perfection of Leah Piepgras. What an artiste, what vision, x-ray vision in fact. Smart Bitches to the rescue again with much needed laughter.