Tone of Story and Word Choice

When you write a story, do you take into consideration the genre you are writing?

For example, what words do you use to describe...anything...in a horror story?

What about a mystery?

In horror, do you simply use that tone in the specific scene where a ghost appears? Where a monster makes its appearance and maybe kills a victim? Where does build up begin?

When do you start to seduce your reader into the ambiance of a horror or a mystery or a romance?

The same is true for the eroticism of a story, wouldn't you say? Word choices throughout the story give it the texture and tone for the genre, not just the number of A-into-B sex scenes, or a murder scene, or the swashbuckling warrior scene in a fantasy. It is the whole ambiance.

Would you disagree with that?

When I describe a mountain (such as in Breathless Peaks), a pair of gloves (Skin Tight), a painting (Caution: Wet Paint), in an erotic romance, that item is imbued with sensuality. That is part of the plot. In a mystery, in a horror novel, what are your word choices for bringing a reader into the emotion of that story from the very first page?

From Breathless Peaks:

They both called to her--both wanted her total attention. The feeling was like being drawn to two possessive lovers--neither one willing to let her go. Neither one giving an inch. No matter how far she ran or how deep she tried to hide, they wouldn't let her be. Not really. She'd always felt their presence.

There were times when she thought she'd won, but those times were fleeting. Like a sharpened nail of silvery metal, she was drawn by a powerful magnetism she fought against daily. She was weary of the fight. She wanted to simply let go and go back. To bend to their will, to give them what they wanted. What she needed.

If she went, would she lose her sense of self? Would they press her between them and suffocate the life from her?

Every time she thought about them, her heart beat faster, raced like a ticking bomb, ready to explode. The heat of remembered contact coursed through her like an avalanche that she couldn't fight and she was swallowed whole, buried alive. Not any more. Not now.

She loved them both. More than she should. Both left her breathless, always wanting more. Needing it, and nothing could change that.

From Skin Tight:

The fit was tight, so very tight. Just the way she loved it. Slow and easy. Curving and sheathing until there was no space left to breathe. She sighed as she stroked her fingertips across the glove's supple leather, tracing the outline of each of her enclosed digits one at a time. She inhaled the item's earthy aroma, allowing it to wend its way through her.

Karli loved the scent of finely tooled gloves. And these, oh these, were perfect. They were so tight a fit, she could see the outline of her nails through the stretched fabric. Yet the leather was so pliant there was no problem at all fisting her hand, and her knuckles peaked with shiny definition.

"They look gorgeous on you, Ms. Logan. Almost like a second skin." The saleswoman smiled. This expensive pair would undoubtedly mean a very good sales percentage for the woman behind the counter. "I knew they would," she gushed. "That's why I called you right away. I hoped you'd get the message. I said it was important."

With difficulty, Karli looked away from her gloved hand to smile at the girl. "The service did get the message to me. And I appreciate the call, Wendy. You take very good care of me." Of course, the call had been vetted through several different people before it ended up in Karli's hands, but at least it had reached her. In a gesture of appreciation, Karli's gloved hand pressed the back of Wendy's bare one. She could feel the warmth of the woman's skin even through the boundary of the elegant glove.

No man's cock had ever fit her pussy as tightly as her fingers fit into these gloves. The press and scent almost had her orgasming on the spot. She bit her lip, then soothed the wound with her tongue.

"You have such elegant hands, Ms. Logan. This style looks just wonderful on you." She looked around the small shop, then back at Karli. "Actually," she said in a confidential tone, "I set them aside until you could come in to try them for yourself."

Karli flexed her hand again, enjoying the feel of confinement, the stroke and give of the leather. She wanted to touch herself so badly, to baptize them with her juices. To feel the leather against the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

Caution: Wet Paint:

"It's a very...riveting piece, isn't it? Do you know the artist?"

Clara couldn't take her eyes off the work of art. She felt the heat of a summer sun on her naked body. Sable brushes skimming across her skin, between the lips of her pussy. She squeezed her legs tightly together, trying to deny the erotic sensations that quaked through her.

"Clara, did you hear me?"

"Yes, Maggie, I heard you. It wasn't created by one artist--it was two. You know one of them."

Spread your legs, Clara. Show us your desire. Clara shivered as the ghostly demand echoed inside her head.

"I do? Who is it?"

She felt fingertips stroke gently across her inner thighs. The warmth of a bonfire against her back. The rough texture of a flannel blanket beneath her.

"Arturo."

Maggie turned to look at Clara, her mouth agape.

"I didn't know he ever did work like this. It doesn't look like any of the stuff you have on display at the gallery. Who was the other artist?"

"Samir Zahi." Prince Samir Zahi to be correct. Samir, whose mouth had tasted her, lips hot and demanding on her breasts. Her nipples burned for him as she studied the painting, yearning to feel his mouth on her flesh once again.

And in Body Parts foreshadowing a sense of darkness and mystery:

She studied the exterior of the powerful stone structure. It was built to last the ages and much too substantial to simply be called a house. Right out of a gothic novel, it was one of the most opulent pieces of architecture Korrie have ever seen.

Within seconds, the sun shifted behind a dark cloud and cool darkness settled over the property, shadows grabbing at the structure. And at her. She again looked up to study the architecture and this time her gaze settled on the towers. Just below the spires in the left column she noticed the blackened stone and boarded-up brace of windows. From the early photos, they had once held handcrafted stained glass.

It was a terrible tragedy when the Ransoms perished in a devastating fire that destroyed a great deal of the laboratory on the top floor of the mansion. It was reportedly one of their experiments that had gone horribly wrong. Most of their research papers were destroyed as well. At least that’s the rumor.

That’s what it said in the file. She should know because she was the one who’d conducted the interview with the retired newspaper reporter. One of the many reasons she wanted to come here ﷓﷓ to discover the truth. To walk in their shoes, so to speak. Now was her chance.

The lack of sun set a pall over the house, making it look like a fixture out of one of those old horror movies. A shiver spread up her spine, like tiny fingers gripping and tightening around her flesh. What experiment had the Ransoms been working on when they perished?

Does explicitness equal erotic in every scene?

Does erotic equal a full sex scene on every page?

Does revulsion equal horror in every paragraph?

Does violence equal mystery in every act?

Or is it the word choices we use as wordsmiths, throughout the story, that draws the emotion and keep the reader enthralled?

Can you segment plot from atmosphere, or intimacy from relationship, be it mystery, horror, scifi, fantasy, or erotic? If you do, is that story still firmly planted within a specific genre?

Just asking...

Adrianna
www.adriannadane.com

New Podcast for Ruthless Acts

I've posted the podcast for an excerpt from Ruthless Acts this morning. You can listen or download it at Adrianna's Broadcasts.



Elizabeth Anthony and Isandro Santario are two people who should never have met, should never have loved. But in Esmerelda, anything is possible.

This story is now available at Amber Heat, the erotic imprint of Amber Quill Press.

Ruthless Acts is also available in the "Esmerelda's Lovers" anthology of erotic stories, now available in paperback at Amazon.com

Have a great day!

Adrianna

Eroticism vs. Pornography in Story

I’ve recently been visiting some blogs about erotic romance and I thought it was time for me to share my point of view on the subject. I continue to see authors who write erotic romance continue to say they admit to writing smut or pornography. If they write true erotic romance, or erotica, I beg to differ.

There are definitions set down for defining the different aspects of eroticism and sexual experimentation in story by the Passionate Pen Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. So let’s get those definitions out of the way first. Here’s how they define them:

“Porn: stories written for the express purpose of causing sexual titillation. Plot, character development, and romance are NOT primary to these stories. They are designed to sexually arouse the reader and nothing else.

Erotica: stories written about the sexual journey of the characters and how this impacts them as individuals. Emotion and character growth are important facets of a true erotic story. However, erotica is NOT designed to show the development of a romantic relationship, although it’s not prohibited if the author chooses to explore romance. Happily Ever Afters are NOT an intrinsic part of erotica, though they can be included.

Erotic Romance: stories written about the development of a romantic relationship through sexual interaction. The sex is an inherent part of the story, character growth, and relationship development, and couldn’t be removed without damaging the storyline. Happily Ever After is a REQUIREMENT to be an erotic romance.

Sexy Romance: stories written about the development of a romantic relationship that just happen to have more explicit sex. The sex is not an inherent part of the story, character growth, or relationship development, and it could easily be removed or “toned down” without damaging the storyline. Happily Ever After is a REQUIREMENT as this is basically a standard romance with hotter sex.”

(Visit www.passionateink.org for more information about the chapter.)

I’m going to rant today because, well, it’s just one of those days and I’ve been visiting some other blogs. I get a little miffed when I see a number of authors who say they write erotic romance and tell people they write “smut” or “pornography.” They say call it what it is. Well, you know what? I write erotic romance and I do not write smut or pornography. I disagree with those monikers totally. Erotic romance may be stories meant to arouse, but they are not meant to strictly arouse sexual response as appears the case in pornography and/or smut. At least not with my stories. Sex is not gratuitous, explicit love scenes are a part of the story and are important to the developing relationships.

If a reader or writer is ashamed of sexuality, then they are probably going to think erotic romance is smut. Have you ever really seen a pornographic movie or read pornography? Pornography is meant to sexually arouse. Period.

In erotic romance, or even erotica, much more is involved. There is a passion, an eroticism to all the senses, and that is what should be obvious when writing in the erotic genre as opposed to the pornographic genre.

Why do I use the term “genre?” I see pornography as a genre of pure sex, as science fiction is delving into the possibilities of science of alternative or futuristic fiction; horror meant to instill fear and terror; romance meant to inspire passion, and it is more than about the sex. If you introduce as the main part of the plot a romantic relationship, it changes the genre for pornography, science fiction, horror, or any of the other genres. The balance alters.

If an erotic romance does not contain the correct balance of sex to relationship and plot, yes, it can be pornography, or it can be erotica, depending on how the story is written.

In story, balance of components is important. Knowing what you write, be it erotic romance, erotica, pornography, or science fiction, and not trying to pass it off as another genre, is important. Because of the fairly new acceptance of erotic romance as a subgenre of romance, sometimes even the publishers do not distinguish between the genres. But a writer should know the difference in what they are writing, no matter which level of sexual explicitness is included.

To say to someone, “yes, I write smut” or, “yes, I write pornography” when what the author really writes is erotic romance, is bending to popular, uneducated definition, that really isn’t correct, nor does it do a service to either genre–not to erotic romance and not to pornography. If I were to write erotic horror and call it horror, it comes down to the same thing. If I were to write a story of horror, it would probably be more romantic horror. And that is a different genre, make no mistake. Nor is erotic horror the same as horror, such as Stephen King would write. There is a difference, although they may be related at some level. And just because an author doesn’t want to take the time to explain the difference, doesn’t mean it is a correct definition of the genre. Or they are trying to blur the lines of writing pornography and attempting to introduce their stories into a popular, and more acceptable genre such as erotic romance. It doesn’t make it so.

I love the passion of romance, be it heterosexual, same sex, multiple partners, or whatever the dynamics. I love being able to write about the emotion and soul involved in intimacy and commitment, or the anticipation of commitment. This is erotic romance. The journey to intimacy can also be erotica, which is not necessarily written toward the end result of commitment, but some part of personality, some growth is usually involved through the journey of discovery.

Here’s a passage from my dark futuristic erotic romance story, Zytarri 1: Virgin Blood, that could be considered erotic, yet it doesn’t deal directly with recognized sexual terms. Valyn, the hero, is preparing to meet his upcoming challenge in this passage.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in, pulling deeply from his abdomen, exhaling every particle of used breath, cleansing his inner body and soul while opening to the nuances of the pulsing earth. Eventually the oneness embraced him, and he felt the steady surging of the earth beneath him, heard the flow of life rushing under the surface, and felt the creaking growth of root life as it surged and burst. The pulse beat through him until his own rhythms matched those of the living earth, and he became attuned, a part of all that surrounded him.

Everything inside and around him slowed, matching cadence to cadence, the deep breathing increased the flow of oxygen to his lifeblood, and the power and balance threaded through him, anchoring deep inside. Opening his eyes, he centered his gaze on a close-budded flower and concentrated, coaxing her response.

‘Open your sweet heart to me.’

He did not move, did not breathe, waiting for the response.

First one shy petal peeled back, then another followed, and another, until the blushing, fuchsia core opened completely to the morning light, the fragrance of its heady, potent nectar filling the air.

He did not alter his attention, but heard the buzzing presence of a male bee close by.

‘She awaits.’ The whispered words moved outward from his mind to the fluttering insect.

His gaze soon encompassed the descent of the drone as it settled into the heart of the shy flower, piercing deep into its moist, succulent core, eager to consume the nectar of the fragrant, delicate beauty.

Erotic writing is in the blending of words meant to arouse, not necessarily explicit in a sexually obvious way. It is a seduction of the senses. It is not always “in-your-face” explicit. A writer wants the reader to be seduced by the writing, not dropped in a freezing cold or boiling hot pool. There is a difference.

Here’s a passage from my recent contemporary erotic romance release, Pleasure, which uses a few of the more recognized terms in erotic writing. Helen has come to Las Vegas for a weekend away from her daily life as mayor of a small town and discovers more than she bargained for, particularly about her own needs.

She really tried not looking their way again, but it was just too difficult. Taking a sip of her coffee, slowly she angled her head, the hairs on the back of her neck rising when she realized he was watching her intently.

The woman was nowhere in sight, probably having gone to the powder room to freshen up.

Long moments passed as her gaze locked with his across the crowded room. She felt heat surge through her body and a bolt of desire shocked right down to her pussy, making her throb with need.

His dark eyes traveled over her, studying her, caressing her in the ways a lover might do, but from a significant distance away. He lifted his hands and caressed the coffee cup in front of him, still watching her. He raised the cup and brought it to his finely chiseled lips.

His tongue stroked across his lips. Her body tingled at the thought of what that tongue could do to her body. It was too much and she felt her pussy convulse.

He smiled a deliberate, sensuous smile, then brought the cup to his lips. She watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, then set the cup back down.

Moving his chair back from the table, he splayed his legs, drawing her attention to his groin. It came to her suddenly that he was putting on a show for her, drawing her across the room. Maybe not physically, but mentally he seduced her, tantalized her. But why?

Her focus feasted on the prominent display of male dominance bulging from between his legs. It was as though there was no one else in the room but them.

Her breathing increased, rising to rapid pants of need.
She waned to get up from the table, to join him, to have him take her in his arms and kiss her with all the passion she surmised was sheathed inside that delectable, sexy man across the room. She could smell her own arousal keenly. In that look, no distance separated them. No one else existed.

Using all the self-control she could muster, she broke the contact, thinking a fan would not be so out of place right this minute. What had he done to her?

Make no mistake, I write explicitly and use, when appropriate, recognized terminology. But I do not depend on strictly those words to carry the eroticism of the story.

Passion, using all the senses, is what brings soul and romance to erotic writing. It isn’t sex strictly for the sake of sex alone. It is intimacy, it is relationship, it is romantically erotic.

Adrianna

New Review and an Excerpt from Ravager's Redemption

Ravager's Redemption is a part of The Argadian Heart Trilogy, now available at Amazon.



The Argadian Heart Trilogy

4 1/2 Kisses!! Ms. Dane has created a highly charged world; a world of believable characters with strong emotions caused by the tragedies and triumphs of their lives. The action is fast-paced and keeps the reader glued to the page. You can't help cheering for Daelyn and Alekos. ... A beautiful blending of romance, science fiction, and adventure that encourages you to read the entire series... --Anne Marie, Romance Divas

Ravager’s Redemption (Book 3, Argadian Rebellion Trilogy)
Author: Adrianna Dane
Publisher: Amber Quill Press/Heat (www.amberheat.com)
ISBN: 978-1-59279-645-8
Author’s Website: www.adriannadane.com
Link to Purchase: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberHeat/RavagersRedemption.html

Synopsis:

Ex-Tribunal Enforcer Daelyn Kapri hides a terrible secret. If discovered, it could destroy her chances at a new life. Alekos Andromeda is the only one who knows the truth. When Daelyn is called to save him, will it culminate in a love that was always destined to redeem them both?


EXCERPT:

"What you need is a male."

Daelyn Kapri’s eyes snapped open to pin Eluria Zydon with a directed, narrowed scowl. It was bad enough she’d let herself be talked into joining Eluria and Kierra in this activity they named female bonding. Now Eluria seemed Haydon-bent on complicating the situation by tying her with some male.

She detected the glitter of humor in Eluria’s eyes and relaxed against the edge of the pool. She should have recognized the teasing tenor in Eluria’s voice. She seemed to take great delight in baiting her. Often Daelyn had witnessed her doing the same thing with her taman, Devon.

This wide array of emotions Daelyn was now saddled with still caused her difficulty. Lately, irritation seemed to be the prevailing influence, surfacing with increased regularity.

She whipped her head around when a giggle erupted from the other side of the pool and glared at Kierra Andromeda.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Kierra shook her head and sank deeper into the bubble-laden hot water.

"Certainly not, Daelyn. But Eluria could be right. A little male attention might help to ease some of the tension you are experiencing."

Abruptly, Daelyn shifted up, water sluicing down over her upthrust breasts. "I am not tense. I am a fighter—an Enforcer for many years. Enjoyment in these feminine bondings you both seem so fond of is alien to my nature. I do not bond. With anyone." She punctuated the statement by crossing her arms over her naked breasts and straightening her spine.

In a dress line-up, in full uniform, standing at attention, the gesture might have received respect. Here, naked, lying in a pool of bubbles, it did not have quite the desired impact. This was fully brought home as both Eluria and Kierra broke out in peals of laughter.

She sank back into the water with a sigh. Would she ever adjust to this new turn her life had taken?

As an assassin for the Tribunal, ties to family and friends were severed. The Nanus process blocked emotion—and the enjoyment of any sort of relationship with others was destroyed.

She respected both of these women who’d immediately taken her under their wings upon her arrival on Ednos. They’d made it their mission to support her as she dealt with the surge of recovered emotions so foreign to her nature after disuse for such a long period of time.

To call it a difficult transition would be a mild statement. Once the block had disintegrated completely, she’d fought to retain her sanity. The serum administered by the healers had restored her memories, and rage had dominated her thoughts. It was an emotion she understood—one left unblocked by the Nanus process. The Tribunal reasoned rage was an influence which only enhanced the efficiency of assassins in their enforcement responsibilities. Killing frenzy, rage, and stasis were the exclusive responses left to an Enforcer.

When the sadness had struck out and gripped her—the loss of her family, her life—she’d been unequipped to handle the assault of pain, like an Enforcer caught naked, not one weapon at hand with which to defend herself.

The healers had administered an equalizer drug to stabilize the return of emotions. Still, the sadness felt so alien to her nature as a trained assassin. The overwhelming grief became almost too much to bear.

Desperate to stop the tide of intense feelings, she’d barricaded herself in her apartment, hoping that without human contact she could control her reactions. Days passed without success until finally Eluria and Kierra had descended on her, refusing to go away. Knowing Daelyn attempted to endure alone was something both females refused to allow, even after her assurances she was well and did not require their assistance. Finally, frustrated at their tenacity, she’d let them in.

The women had encouraged her to meet with Dr. Xander, the psychemedic. Jarek, Kierra’s taman, had met with Xander after his rescue from Odon’s compound and Kierra said it had helped him to cope with the corruption of his memories.

As she studied these two strong women, she contemplated the golden radiance of shared love with a chosen mate that permeated their skin. Eluria had Devon and Kierra had Jarek. There were moments she was envious of their unions, but this was not the time to complicate her situation. It was best she remain alone.

Devon Andromeda was an Elite First Enforcer who’d had the memories of Eluria and his family wiped from his mind. Only when he and Eluria had confronted each other on the desolate planet Serdion and she’d administered the test antidote to him, had he been able to regain his Before. They’d sealed and were marked by Guardian in a union that was legendary.

Devon’s father had joined the rebellion after Devon’s induction as an Enforcer. He’d been betrayed and then assassinated by a Tribunal Enforcer, and Kierra, Devon’s sister, had been taken into bondage. Her scars from that time had slowly healed with the help of her Serdionese Mindwanderer mate, Jarek Bakari.

Each had fought for the rebellion in different ways—Eluria as a warrior and Kierra as a scientist. Both exuded femininity interwoven with their determination and loyalty to their people. They’d taken her into their midst without judgment, even knowing she was an assassin for the Argadian Tribunal.

These women had held her as she wept with pain while the memories of her family spilled from her, when the guilt of the deaths at her hands as an Enforcer lay heavily upon her spirit.

The only passions an Enforcer exhibited were rage and killing frenzy to carry them in battle. Otherwise there was nothing, every other emotion stripped from them, blocked by a procedure that rendered them lethal weapons commanded by the Argadian Council members. Stasis for an Enforcer was a state of rest, but unlike normal sleep; it was a numbing of mind and body where an Enforcer waited for the next Tribunal assignment.

She now knew regret as well as sadness. There were moments of quiet pleasure, but she had yet to experience real joy as Eluria and Kierra described it. And the passion exhibited between a male and female was far beyond the spectrum of her thoughts.

"A male?" She snorted. "You have to be joking."

Eluria shook her head. "I most certainly am not. You work way too hard and you allow yourself no time for pleasure, to relax. If we hadn’t forced you to come with us tonight, you wouldn’t be here now. You would be off checking weapons or monitoring ships—anything but taking time to relax. A little male companionship would go a long way to helping you in that direction."

She sighed, closed her eyes, and tipped her head back. The fact that she was here, naked, lying in a warm pool of bubbles with water jetting rhythmically against her body, was more than enough relaxation for her.

And it certainly seemed to have the desired effect as she felt her body softening beneath the gentle pulsing of the water. And her brain was mush.

"This is relaxing enough. I do not need the attentions of a male to confuse things. I have enough to worry about."

"That’s just the problem," Kierra remarked from the other side. "You worry too much. We all have jobs to do, and they’re dangerous. Without some sort of release, some ability to distance yourself, you will eventually break, Daelyn, and we do not want to see that happen. We care about you and are only concerned for your welfare."

She opened her eyes and her gaze moved between the two beautiful women. They were good friends. It was something she’d never experienced before—friendship. As an Enforcer, she had never had close acquaintances, only other duty-bound and emotionless Enforcers like herself. Any down time was spent at the institute, going through tests and re-immersion. And there was no radiance for a female Enforcer. It was another facet to being an ordinary female she was attempting to understand. Like the golden radiance these women exhibited—visible signs of happiness in union.

The return of her own radiance with any of her emotions had not surfaced yet. The healers assured her it was strictly a matter of time. When she stopped rebelling against the sensations and relaxed into them—accepted them—her radiance would certainly return.

She kept to herself the fact that she didn’t think that was likely to occur in near Beyond. It was like fighting the existence of another person inside herself. Pain, pleasure, sadness—they were all there for her to call upon, although rusty after so many years of dormancy, and it did not come naturally to her to accept their existence as a part of who she was.

"Think about it, Daelyn," Eluria urged. "Kierra’s right, we worry about you. We want to see you happy."

Daelyn turned her head to stared at the vast sky through the domed ceiling and sighed. "I appreciate your concern, Eluria, really I do. I am not ready to be with another right now. I know you and Kierra have found the right mates, but I need more time. Let us just enjoy this feminine bonding you have forced me into." She turned to look at Eluria and a smile curved her lips.

"This is nice. I’ve never experienced anything like this. You both care for me and I thank you for it. To have friends like you both is something I will not take for granted."

"You are no longer an Enforcer and we simply want you to be happy and to live. We don’t know what tomorrow has in store for us, and we don’t want you to waste a moment in dwelling and feeling guilty for what happened in Before. You’re with us now. You don’t belong to them any longer."

"I know. I will try." She turned away, afraid something in her eyes would betray the secret she kept locked away from them. If only they knew the real source of her guilt. She had shared some of her Before with them, but not all of it. There was a time, a split second when even the Enforcer training had splintered, almost causing her death. And it was because of a male.

Even now she could see his searing blue eyes filled with passion. His face was branded into her thoughts. And it was that memory alone which kept her from seeking companionship with another.

For one brief moment, desire had blazed through her and it stayed her hand when she should have killed him with no other emotion filling her than the killing rage of an Enforcer. For an explosive instant, just before he lost consciousness, she had also seen those blue orbs filled with hate and betrayal. And she walked away without completing her mission. Run would be a better word.

No, it was not just any male she needed, there was only one who could offer her redemption and heal her, and that was a most unlikely prospect. Haydon would probably freeze over first.

Yet she couldn’t tell these two women her secret, because the pirate who’d claimed a piece of her unwilling soul was Kierra and Devon’s rebellious brother, Alekos—known as the Ravager—as slippery and lethal as any rogue among the stars. If they ever came face to face again, she knew the only thing he would seek was her death for her betrayal.