The Voss Papers

 I've talked once before about how sometimes I try to write things and it just... fails .  (Mostly I don't talk about this stuff, because it's... Well, mildly embarrassing. I could talk for days about exactly how I balanced the political and military tension alongside the brutal edging interrogation in  The Ruritanian Pretender ,  but saying 'yes, there's a book I hinted I was working on months ago , and I'm still not quite happy with it' takes a bit more courage!). But I  have  just released  Anna Voss's Christmas Carol   in December, which probably looks extremely commercially hard-nosed, so perhaps I should explain that I first tried to write it in August. I was knee deep in the creation of  Anna Voss Writes the Classics , it seemed absurd to be trying to write Femdom as if major authors had written it and not at least try to write Dickens.  For the space of 20 minutes or so, I quietly flirted with the idea of Abel Magwitch finding ...

Hopefully if you're reading the Voss Papers you already know I'm a writer of intelligent femdom with strong characters and brutal orgasm denial. Hopefully you also know I just published my most audacious book yet, a collection of short stories called Anna Voss Writes The Classics .  It's a fantastic exploration of femdom in a range of different authors’ literary styles through history from the Canterbury Tales to 1940s Noir… But there's no Beowulf: it was just too hard!  The Thesis  Of course I've played with other author’s styles before: The Ruritanian Pretender is pure Ruritanian Romance in the (dommed-up!) tradition of Anthony Hope; On Chestnut Tree Lane is dystopian femdom by way of George Orwell, and (spoilers!) one of the novels I’m working on right now is… well.  Let’s just say I hope everyone likes Femdom Cold War Espionage...  But Anna Voss Writes The Classics is different because of its key argument: femdom isn’t new. It's not new today, and it wasn...

I wrote the first story in my new collection - Anna Voss Writes the Classics - on a typewriter. Not my usual slightly rubbish old laptop (portable, forgiving, endlessly deletable, and also a little harder to justify not writing on, if you can avoid procrastinating), but an actual typewriter. A 1960s Adler, German steel, found in a charity shop and bought half as a joke, half because of a future project set in the cold war.  She’s heavy, her ribbon smears everywhere, and the keys need way more effort than you could imagine: I'm a pretty slick typist in real life (or at least on a computer); the Adler is a real bitch - she cuts my speed in half at least! And she has no delete function, just a backspace which does nothing but show you the mistake you just made. Once she's shown you, she lets you choose if you're going to live with it, retype that whole line using the Red Ribbon Of Shame, or just start the entire page again.  If I write, in future, a mercilessly strict Domme c...