hello i hate the milquetoastification of indie fiction

…and you should, too.

Reader, reader. What have we here? A blog post? This must really be something special. Regina rarely posts actual blog entries, and even more rarely starts a post on her site with ‘i hate’ instead of ‘i love.’ Yet, this where we find ourselves. I just need to vent a little: moreover, I need to implore you, reader, to think about what I am writing here, because I mean it sincerely.

I woke up this morning to find another horror author, whose pen name and work shall not be named, had a year-old book blocked an Amazon–an action that most likely occurred because somebody complained about it. A horror book. In the horror category. By a known author of extreme horror.

This is really sticking in my craw because I had a similar situation earlier in the month concerning a book published on the website Godless.com, which is meant specifically for horrific, shocking, boundary-pushing horror fiction that can (or should) not be published anywhere else. Unbeknownst to me, somebody I know–and at that point respected–went behind my back to the site creator to complain the piece, a 4500 word piece of shock horror comparable to many other pieces on the site. Is it the best piece I’ve ever written in my life? Of course not, I wrote it in an afternoon to be shocking and depraved, and to make readers question why they read this sort of fiction. But I stand by the piece, and the emotional reaction it evidently triggered in this person indicates to me that the piece is successful.

That being said, I have been affected for almost a month by this ridiculous scenario. I feel censorious eyes peering over my keyboard and into my mind as I try to think of something to write, and for the past weeks just a bit of my joy has been sapped from me whenever I do make it to the keyboard. This is the real goal the person had by first going to the Godless.com creator, then by sending me a personal message that amounted to a drive-by when they refused to reply. The person was offended and upset by the work, and when someone is upset, they want to upset the person who upset them. The motive for demanding another person remove a piece of art from circulation, whatever the quality, can only be a malicious one.

There are people out there who want writers to suck. I don’t mean just vindictive book bloggers, either. There are writers who want other writers to suck. There are people who have nothing to do with the world of publishing, who haven’t read a book since high school (or maybe haven’t graduated it) who want writers to suck. This latter group is made of people who pile-on to a situation on Twitter or Facebook so they can enjoy criticizing a content creator for a work they know nothing about. As for the rest, the frustrated writers who take pleasure in trashing the works of other writers, this is a truly lowly sort upon whom I’ll waste little time other than to say they are doomed to evolve into vindictive book bloggers, their works unread by the community that has long-since seen them for what they are.

But why would anyone want another person’s work to suck, Regina? Surely you’re looking at this the wrong way. These good, wholesome, neighborly souls are only concerned. They want to keep readers from reading “bad” books, so they leave informative 1-star reviews everywhere they possibly can. They want to keep writers from publishing (or preferably from writing at all) “bad” books, so they complain to Amazon and other platforms in the name of having the books taken down–thus, also, protecting these poor, helpless readers from the bad, bad fiction that offended the tattle-tale.

These are their stated goals, I will give you that. But, reader, this sort of person who can’t leave well enough alone actually has another goal seated in their heart of hearts. No matter what they tell themselves, the type of person who complains about a book is doing so for self-motivated reasons. If outside of the publishing/reading industry, they tend to be jealous of success in general and simply enjoy the schadenfreude that comes from latching onto a good public witch hunt. If they are a reader, then it is because they were so offended by the book that they want to hurt the author in their turn. And if they proclaim to be a fellow writer, then they can have one goal and one goal only: to rein in their competition until one of them sings a swansong and quits publishing altogether…or at least publishing in their genre.

Some writers believe that, rather than writing to the market, the market should conform to their tastes–and that other writers, for not doing the same, are wrong or in some way lacking in quality. For these authors, the only possibility they have of success, so far as they can see, is proving to readers that their taste is “wrong.” They write long reviews of other authors’ works that belittle the piece as much as possible before ending in snide urgings like, “But hey, if writing is your passion, keep doing it!” They critique in-progress works shared in confidence in such a way as to hamper their final form, rather than helping hone them to success. Most vilely, they report books to the platforms on which they’re published so that even extreme horror fiction properly categorized has no chance to remain for sale. To play it safe, deplatformed writers may end up writing milder things.

And that is exactly what these petty agitators want. They do not want to see boundaries pushed and authors inspired by one another. They do not want to look evil in the face or think that someone may disagree with them. They do not want to see others successful when their own books can’t seem to get past a handful of reviews and a couple of sales a month. They want only their own immediate success, and they just cannot understand why shitting on others won’t make it come any faster.

I am writing this entry today to urge you, reader, to never be like these people. Love fellow writers. Support them. Encourage them even if you don’t personally enjoy their work. Celebrate their successes, because one day they’re going to celebrate yours. Don’t be mediocre, and don’t let anyone tell you that you should be. When people are upset about your art, upset them more.

And if you’re a reader only? As Shirley Jackson once said to a rude critic, “If you don’t like my peaches, don’t shake my tree.” Let extreme horror grow in its profane groves of eyeball bushes and vaginal trees. It’s not doing anyone any real harm, and if you think that you’re worried it is, well…stop and ask yourself if that’s really the problem you have with it.

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hello i love sharing uncensored stories on godless.com, including exclusive dottie & sabine shorts and a special cut of FAMILIARITY

HAIL SATAN! PRAISES BE UPON SAINT WALPURGIA! READ FAMILIARITY!

At long last, FAMILIARITY is ready to seduce you into a higher state of consciousness. But before you buy, you have to ask yourself: do you really want to know what’s behind the veil?

YES, I WANT 10,000 EXTRA WORDS AND A PREFACE NOT SUITED TO AMAZON

NO, THE AMAZON VERSION IS ENOUGH FOR ME

This book is NOT AVAILABLE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to offer you the GODLESS CUT, so make your choice and be sure to leave a review! Oh–and while I’m at it, be sure to snag the exclusive DOTTIE and SABINE shorts that are only available on Godless. They were just a little too much for Amazon!

===

FAMILIARITY – AVAILABLE 4/30/21

God understands that sometimes people need to die.

Libertine abortionist Dr. Hammond Harteveldt bears a charmed life, though most might not feel that way. After all, his former brother-in-law was recently found dead in his prison cell while awaiting charges related to some very sordid sex crimes, and the retired widower has subsequently come into custody of his deeply troubled goddaughter. Most men of recreation such as Hammond would surely see sudden custody of a dependent as a chore, but not Hammond.

Far from it: Theresa’s presence in the home is an opportunity. He has not seen the girl in years–not since a falling out with her father–and the truth is that although the circumstances of her arrival were less than fortunate, she’s already brought so many good things into his life. There’s the alluring and naive Grace Primrose, young Theresa’s fetching high school librarian caught in a dead-end, humdrum marriage. She could certainly use a helping hand, couldn’t she? Then there’s poor Isaac Redfern, the FBI agent responsible for Theresa’s case who seems as if he’s hovering on the verge of a nervous breakdown–increasingly paranoid about cults and psychological terrorism.

But then, of course, there is Theresa herself. Theresa, ah, Theresa–Theresa, who will be eighteen on Walpurgisnacht.

And by Satan, Dr. Harteveldt is smitten with all three of them.

YES, I WANT 10,000 EXTRA WORDS AND A PREFACE NOT SUITED TO AMAZON

NO, THE AMAZON VERSION IS ENOUGH FOR ME

HAIL SATAN! PRAISE BA’AL HAMMON! IO WALPURGISNACHT!

hello i love bad witches, nerdy wolfmen, and new paperbacks

What’s Halloween without some witchcraft? Sexy Sabine the Bad Witch has TWO Halloween specials available for your enjoyment as we reach the peak of every horrotica fan’s favorite holiday. In THE WITCH’S BAD SEED, join Sabine as she transforms the snotty incel sorcerer from the other side of town into a pumpkin perfect for a little bit of erotic carving with the help of the Dark Lord–and in THE WITCH’S ALPHA PLEDGE, get to know cute nerd Jeremy Zevron as he’s transformed into a werewolf upon making some very questionable decisions.

On top of that, I’m very pleased to announce the paperback release of INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY! Don’t miss your chance to snatch up a beautifully bound copy of this psychedelic splatterpunk love story, featuring exquisite abstract illustrations by cover artist, Nuno Moreira! Dottie and Sabine fans alike should really give this book a look–and so should anybody who’s interested in transgressive fiction and body horror that’s more straightforward than erotic.

Finally, let me just wish you all a Happy Halloween and thank you guys for all your support! Incredibly, next month will mark my 6 month anniversary of publishing, and it’s so gratifying to see these books starting to emerge as paperbacks. I couldn’t do any of it without the legions of loyal readers who join my mailing list, read my books and tell their friends about my horribly depraved imagination! You all mean so much to me. Have a Happy (and Healthy!) Halloween, guys!

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hello i love procrastinating by doing unnecessary blog posts and updating covers

yes it’s true there are other things i could or should be doing right now but looooooooook aren’t these new DOTTIE covers even better than the old ones? my kindleunlimited reads sure seem to indicate that they are. the cover changes are still flowing through on the Amazon page but why not use this exciting day as an excuse to make sure you’re up to date with this hot series of taboo bdsm erotica that makes 50 Shades of Grey look like Dr. Seuss. we’ve got cannibalism, femdom, findom, foot worship, snuff, guro, extreme consensual torture, a man with a nuclear cock, a cute immortal girl with psychedelic girlmeat, and lots of super inappropriate ddlg ageplay. and that barely even scratches the surface of what these first five episodes contain, baby–all that, and a real plot, too. READ DOTTIE TODAY BY CLICKING HERE OR ON THE AD BELOW!

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hello i love debut novels: INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY is available today

that’s right: with my library of titles available on Amazon as huge as it is, INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY is still my first standalone novel of transgessive fiction. this perverse fairy tale of alienation is a must-read for fans of dottie for you and anyone who enjoys the darker fiction brought to us during the 1980s and 1990s. when a woman discovers she’s immortal but not invulnerable, she begins a career as the sadomasochistic camgirl and performance artist known as the degenetrix. i wouldn’t go so far as to say this novel of extreme horror is an erotica, but it does have some very sexual elements…especially if you’re the sort of person who likes to see a woman smash her hand with a hammer, submit to having acid poured into her brain, publicly degrade herself in a series of performances critical of shakespeare, and way way more. oh–and it’s free on kindle unlimited.

READ INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY TODAY!

A female FIGHT CLUB for a pandemic world, an ATROCITY EXHIBITION for an embittered generation of Internet addicts, a response to THE ROOM that would make even Hubert Selby Jr. cringe–INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY is a transgressive love story by 2020 breakout author REGINA WATTS.

Once upon a time lived a woman who was immortal but not invulnerable. This is the story of everything that happened after she discovered that fact. This is the story of a virus. It is the story of a country that is afraid of change. This is the story of a woman who becomes a sadomasochistic performance artist called “The Degenetrix” during a time when the human race is more isolated than ever before.

This is the story of the Degenetrix and the career she built by mutilating herself on the Internet for the pleasure of strangers, of stalkers, and of a mysterious benefactor who showers her with wealth but refuses to reveal his identity. This is the story of love during pandemic, of alienation in an alienated world. This is the story of pain and of lust and of the human mind.

But don’t worry. This is a happy story, and you are permitted to feel happy while you read it. Empathy is the greatest of all human virtues and the human race has been put on this planet called “Earth” so as to learn it.

Such is the will of spider-mother.

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hello i love free previews – two short chapters from INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY

Buy my debut standalone novel for $9.99 and get it the day it comes out on July 31st, 2020! If that command doesn’t convince you, then maybe these samples will.

5

By the next evening, the stranger had established her page on the video site. White, unadorned, empty of anything but her account name. Plain as her early set. After careful furniture rearrangement, she’d produced enough space to prop her budget photography screen against the kitchen/not-kitchen partition. There was even space for the lights. More adjustment made room for the camera. The barstool normally at the partition became her seat before the background. They were missing just one thing: after discussion, she took her seat with a hammer in her hand.


“Hello,” she began on his mark, but he immediately stopped the camera.


“You need more energy than that.”


“Do I?”


“Yeah. Think about those videos I showed you! These people were all super excited. You need to understand that you’re crafting a character.”


She pondered the head of the hammer. Rust lined the metal edge: the result of a leaky pipe in the last kitchen sink under which it had been stored. Time’s victim. “I’m so detached from myself. How could I come up with a character?”


“Oh, please, you’re the craziest girl I’ve ever met. You mean to say you’re not a character already?” He waved his hand at her. “Tell me what you feel about your situation. Do you like it more or dislike it more?”


“I guess I like it more. I like it a lot more than I dislike it.”


“And what do you like about it?”


“Well…” Her thumb pressed to the jagged texture of rust buildup, almost cuttingly sharp. “I guess it’s an opportunity to feel things. Things nobody else can ever feel.”


“So, you want to enjoy it—I mean, your condition. Your life.” Obviously uncomfortable with the true degree of her sadomasochism, he scratched his cheek before turning back to the camera. “Then I think that’s what you should tap into. If you want people to watch you, be excited about something. People love artists who are passionate about their art… Nobody likes a singer who’s too blasé, not for long.”


“Do people really want to see my passion for self-mutilation?”


“Just roll with it,” he said, adjusting the focus of the camera. “In three, two—”

6

The most-discussed viral phenomenon over the next few days was not the disease sweeping the globe but a surreal video of a lovely young woman in front of a white screen.


“Hi, everybody!” The woman giggled as if at herself and continued, “I’m the Degenetrix!” She introduced herself as a performance artist living in the city. Fairly close to true, or was about to be. It occurred to the woman only in the first few seconds of filming that this was a whole new medium for her. A massive shift: from making art to becoming art. The assumption of a new identity, “the Degenetrix,” a title suggested by the stranger and immediately embraced like the answer to some riddle.


This realization of new emergence was not apparent in the video’s final cut, where her image was superimposed with the familiar clip of her body smashing against a windshield. “You probably know me from the hit-and-run video that’s been making the rounds! A lot of people have wanted to know about me: Was she in shock? Is she on drugs? Is it a publicity stunt? No! I’m a real person. And what you’re about to see is real, too.”


Once the camera panned to reveal the hammer in her hand, the woman known as the Degenetrix stood up, crossed behind the stool, laid her left hand upon it, and attempted to bring the hammer down with her right.

“Ah!”


The first blow made her cry out but was not hard enough to achieve anything stupendous. The second got a knuckle and a “Fuck!” but yielded no satisfying break. “Help me,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Help me, help me, damn you—”


After the shake of the camera upon its tripod resolved to a still frame, the cameraman appeared in the scene to help her. Face obscured by the low angle so all that could be seen was his arm, the man took the hammer and repeatedly brought it to bear upon her fingers.

“Oh, God!” Her screaming pierced the apartment, and she realized at once that this would never fly—they had to get sound-dampening equipment to line her not-kitchen. This was one of a flurry of out-of-place practical thoughts—strange, spontaneous expansions of imagery the way people thought of chores during sex. In the video, she didn’t appear to be thinking about anything: only screaming, profaning, gripping her abused left hand by the wrist to keep it in place while the hammer smashed away.

The man stumbled off frame again. Viewers commented that the sound at time stamp 3:14 was likely the sound of the hammer being dropped. For about thirty seconds, the footage showed only the woman, gasping, weeping, her forehead against the edge of the barstool while she stared through tear-matted eyelashes at the pulp of her hand. Gradually, her crying calmed. The camera shook as it was removed from its tripod and the cameraman’s arc swung wide to reveal bits and pieces of an apartment, lighting equipment—no substantial wires or special effects equipment immediately visible. Only the woman, who, still collapsed against the stool, lifted her head at the camera’s approach and managed a shaky inhalation.

“This is real,” she wetly emphasized, reaching off-screen for a paper towel she used to blot blood from her bruised hand. “This is a magic trick. I’m a performance artist. But this is real.”

The camera zoomed in on her cleaned hand. Crumpled fingers snapped back into place as if the woman were a blow-up doll expanding into shape. By the time ninety seconds had passed, the woman’s hand was healed. The camera panned over the breadth of her grin, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as if by postcoital ecstasy.

“If you want to see more, be sure to like this video, leave a comment, and subscribe to the channel. See you next time!”

One last shot of her waving her broken hand: an auto-suggestion from the website’s algorithm that viewers might also enjoy this clip of a man falling from a ladder and smashing his head on his driveway.

-END OF SAMPLE-

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS, YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY…

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hello i love transgressive fiction

pre-order industrial divinity, my standalone transgressive fiction debut! i’m thrilled to finally share this novel with you and am eternally grateful to nuno moreira for his cover, as well as editor michelle hope for her keen eye–and for her generous willingness to forego the proceeds of the editing process in exchange for donating it directly to several charities. and i guess m.f. sullivan deserves a little credit for the typesetting. 😉 anyway check this new release out. this one is for fans of chuck palahniuk, j.g. ballard, hubert selby jr., ryu murakami, chandler morrison, and anybody who generally likes splatterpunk, transgressive or bizarro fiction. fans of dottie for you are also particularly urged to check out industrial divinity.

PRE-ORDER INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY TODAY!

Once upon a time lived a woman who was immortal but not invulnerable. This is the story of everything that happened after she discovered that fact. This is the story of a virus. It is the story of a country that is afraid of change. This is the story of a woman who becomes a sadomasochistic performance artist called “The Degenetrix” during a time when the human race is more isolated than ever before.

This is the story of the Degenetrix and the career she built by mutilating herself on the Internet for the pleasure of strangers, of stalkers, and of a mysterious benefactor who showers her with wealth but refuses to reveal his identity. This is the story of love during pandemic, of alienation in an alienated world. This is the story of pain and of lust and of the human mind.

But don’t worry. This is a happy story, and you are permitted to feel happy while you read it. Empathy is the greatest of all human virtues and the human race has been put on this planet called “Earth” so as to learn it.

Such is the will of spider-mother.

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i love publishing depraved erotica

DOTTIE FOR YOU Episode 1: FEELING DOTTIE is now available on Kindle for $2.99 or FREE on KindleUnlimited! Click here to read now!

Harold loves Dottie. Dottie loves Harold. Dottie and Harold both love Dolcett. Welcome to the first entry in a flavorful billionaire love story like you’ve never read before: American Psycho meets Helpful Fox Senko-San on a bad acid trip. (And for the blog reader: check the Spotify playlist to your left to see what I’m listening to while I work on this series!)

Harold Fleetwood is pathetic. Despite being the billionaire CEO of a major Fortune 500 company, he’s a divorcé in his mid-fifties who can hardly bear to look a woman in the eye. His dark compulsions and sick fantasies fill him with shame and leave the Internet as his only outlet, not just for titillation, but for intimacy–until the day he discovers bratty Dottie Shipman, the sexiest secretary in the office, has a dirty little secret she’s been hiding.

Turns out, Dottie is as intrigued by taboo fantasies as Harold. Not only that, but she’s the artist he’s spent countless hours fantasizing with while wasting time in his filthy-minded chat room for fellow lonely perverts. He’s terrified, and thrilled. After all these years of hiding his intense, twisted desires from everyone except the prostitutes he employs, sharing himself with this almost too-perfect woman seems like a recipe for deadly consequences from which no amount of money can save him.

Luckily for Harold, though, Dottie’s got another secret. An unbelievable secret. A secret that’s destined to change everything.

This work of transgressive horrotica of consensual cannibalism explores many concepts that some readers may find disturbing. Discretion is strongly advised.

read it read it read it read it read it read it read it read it read it read it

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hello i hate blogs

but my boss says i have to keep one so i get it.

my name is regina watts and i write dirty dirty fiction. i also write something called “transgressive fiction” which is a thing where when you tell people that’s what you write they immediately regret asking you what kind of fiction you write. then they say, “what’s that” and you explain “well a classic example is lolita by nabokov” and still only about 1/3 of people will understand well enough to politely change the subject. to be honest a better example (imo) is say the room by selby jr. orrrr atrocity exhibition by ballard. i was thinking about those two books a lot while writing industrial divinity, which painted blind publishing is releasing in q3/q4 of this year. it’s possible it would be safer if i said something like fight club but that’s the kind of story like the matrix where it’s just a big old red flag if somebody likes it or references it too much these days. i don’t know why it has to be that way. i like fight club and the matrix a lot but i’m embarrassed to admit it in public.

anyway, i wrote the first draft of another book last year that worked out to being almost 400,000 words long and i said holy shit, that’s a lot of words. so i edited it down and got it down very nicely and was just starting to hit a groove in the long drawn-out process of cutting out some of the more hardcore scenes of the book in order to market it as transgressive fiction instead of, you know, smut. this was oh uh maybe february of 2020 and if u are a human being alive on the planet i don’t need to tell you that um well a lot of plans got interrupted for a lot of people? and my favorite paul simon song has been ruined forever, but whatever. people are literally dying and that’s way worse than never being able to listen to “julio down by the schoolyard” without thinking it was some kind of weird psychedelic prophecy about the coronavirus and shutting down schools.

so long story short i haven’t left my house in almost three months except to take walks and two times to go downtown on brief errands and in that time i wrote another novel, industrial divinity, because painted blind publishing was expecting something from me but the in-progress, previously 400,000 word book now seems also very prescient and seems to be in need of application to the current circumstances if-you-see-what-i-am-saying. this is all a bunch of boring writer talk for “i bent over and jammed my fingers down my throat until i vomited up an ~85,000 word novel to exchange for the ~400,000 word one.” so i presented this to painted blind publishing and they were like “boy regina this is actually really interesting, let’s talk about publishing it.”

and i said they could as long as they gave me more time on the mammoth i’m still in the middle of skinning and butchering, and they did, but after we talked for a while, well–the thing with this big long book is that i wrote it specifically in the style of the marquis de sade but you know it’s like, that’s sort of hard to market because it’s these ridiculous swaths of long farty philosophy and then big gratuitous sex scenes, usually involving, uh, well, unconsenting parties or underage people or other stuff that is today you know um a little P R O B L E M A T I Q U E. but that’s why it’s transgressive fiction u kno? transgressive fiction usually contains inherently erotic elements that challenge your moral disposition, sexuality, self, etc. based on my research (not THAT kind of “research” you fucking perv real research like reading biographies) i don’t think the marquis was morally identifying with his hot evil characters until later in his life. he fully understood the trope of punishing characters who fail to socially conform, and that’s why justine‘s eponymous lil protagonist gets oh sorry spoiler alert struck by a lightning bolt while inside her sister’s house, which is absolutely one of the most hilarious endings of all time. justine fails to conform to the evil morality expected of her in her evil world and so god punishes her for it in the context of that evil world. the marquis created a fictional universe, like the dc or marvel or twilight universe, where the defining factor isn’t superheroes or vampires but libertines almost superhuman in their capacity to give and receive sexual violence and do it without consequence.

and that, my friend, is some shit i admire. some trailblazing work there, inspiring. that’s really the kind of work i’m doing here with my in-progress book familiarity but simultaneously why i’m hesitant to release it, because i mean who doesn’t consider the divine marquis erotica? do i really want to be associated with transgressive erotic fiction?

so i made a penname, my magickal motto, soror vitam a.p.m., soror vitam for short. i got really into magick while writing familiarity and also specifically into sex magick. and after finishing industrial divinity, which is effectively about a sex worker, i somehow got to thinking, ‘am i a hypocrite?’ because, like, i was so hung up on the erotic aspects of my work being somehow disgraceful to me, but i didn’t have a problem writing transgressive fiction that wasn’t erotic. no problem with things like drugs or murder. what was my problem with sex? what was my problem with the most natural way to expand consciousness and develop intimacy between two people and in heterosexual couples literally create life?

the problem is that i’ve been writing erotica for years and years and years and yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars and maybe two people know. and because of that it’s been like this side hobby for a long long time and i did do a super brief ghostwriting thing which is where i learned the discipline to write so much. but it was like damn if i can write so much i should just write for myself, so i did. and then all this virus shit happened and i finished industrial divinity and i had be my bully which i’ve been sitting on for years. for about that same length of time i’ve been passively studying posts in the /r/eroticauthors subreddit and after finally looking at a few of the data collections on there it was just like…oh!!!! kindle unlimited is like netflix, but for books! that’s why all these shorts do so well on there: it’s like bingereading. holy shit, i get it, duh.

so that’s the story of how painted blind publishing founded painted blue publishing and how i also developed this penname, regina watts (o sorry u thought this was my real name??? lol hope not) to sell my erotica. what i wasn’t expecting was to have such a strong immediate response. there have been almost 5000 pages read of the first four episodes of be my bully in less than a month. it’s incredible. back when i was really young (just a mere griswald girl myself) i got my start publishing short stories on deviantart and now in retrospect it’s like damn girl you coulda got that MONEY. but it’s okay because now i’m getting that money and it’s so nice, dude, honestly. thank you so much for reading this blog and learning a little more about me on the way. i promise future ones won’t be so long and stupid but like i said the boss told me i had to so here you go.

BUY BE MY BULLY EPISODES 1-4 ON AMAZON OR READ THEM FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED BECAUSE YOU’RE CHEAP but it’s ok i still love you thank you for reading xoxoxo

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