I blogged at Eros and Thanatos about getting permission to write without a happy ending:
I felt a sort of moral obligation — in my own mind, I had permission to write about dark things as long as they worked out okay in the end (and another editing story is about how Lon Sarver gave me permission to write about even more dark things than I originally allowed myself). In the ending as it stands now, you could argue that things are okay, at least for certain people, but the characters haven't all been "good." Maybe they weren't even trying to be.
Read the rest here.
Incidentally, the story I'm talking about in the post is "The Three Wives of Bluebeard," which will be out soon from Forbidden Fiction.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Music Mondays: "We Want War" by These New Puritans
"Secret recordings were made in the marsh. I bore a hole in the tree just to see."
--These New Puritans
This song has a demonic sensuality that I can't get over. It's aggressive and threatening, but in a slick, seductive way. In its lush landscape of sound, you will hear classical instruments, the sounds of swords being drawn, urgent lyrics, and frantic drums. It emphasizes to me that there's always been a relationship between sex and violence.
And then look at the video, which just worships the human form. In the way it's shot, I see the kind of sexuality I imagine the Greeks found in athletics.
--These New Puritans
This song has a demonic sensuality that I can't get over. It's aggressive and threatening, but in a slick, seductive way. In its lush landscape of sound, you will hear classical instruments, the sounds of swords being drawn, urgent lyrics, and frantic drums. It emphasizes to me that there's always been a relationship between sex and violence.
And then look at the video, which just worships the human form. In the way it's shot, I see the kind of sexuality I imagine the Greeks found in athletics.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Disclaimers Matter
Several erotica publishers I have encountered require writers to have characters use condoms whenever it's at all reasonable for them to do so. Others include disclaimers warning that characters may not practice safe sex, but that this is not an endorsement of their behavior. It might seem like it's not a big deal (don't we all know about safe sex?), but I think it is.
One of the big moments of sexual maturity for me came when I learned to draw a line between fantasies I want to enact in real life and fantasies I only want to read about. This sort of disclaimer helps create that distinction.
It's occurred to me recently that such disclaimers are even more necessary when an author is writing about BDSM or various extreme acts. Fantasy BDSM is often quite different from the reality. There are obvious distinctions, like whether or not safe words are being used. But there are deeper ones that may only be clear to people with actual experience with BDSM. For example, I find that many authors don't depict emotional effects in a way I find accurate. I often don't see aftercare (for sub or dom or both). And the list goes on.
Given the popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey, this has been on my mind a lot. I read an interesting post by avflox on how the book portrays BDSM:
The post's author goes on to provide an in-depth analysis that's well worth reading.
But I think such problems aren't only present in Fifty Shades of Grey. I've read plenty of erotica that created similar misconceptions. I think that a disclaimer would be a nice start -- and, ironically, it's often the sort of thing I see from people who have more familiarity with the actual practice of BDSM, and might be inclined to write more realistically in the first place.
Here's some language from the disclaimer before Deliver Us, an m/m BDSM novel by Lynn Kelling:
I think this kind of thing is necessary -- perhaps even more necessary than having characters use condoms. Many of us were taught to use condoms in school, but many of us have never been taught much about BDSM. What I like about this disclaimer is that it might make someone Google "Safe, Sane, and Consensual" (the capital letters help there).
Kelling's novel is full of hot scenes that I wouldn't actually want to see happening in real life. That's fine -- the book makes clear that they're fantasy, and that they're not to be emulated.
Like it or not, erotica is the main kind of sex education a lot of people are getting -- I know it was for me. It's nice to see a dose of reality.
(For the record, Kelling's book is published by Forbidden Fiction, which has also published several stories of mine.)
One of the big moments of sexual maturity for me came when I learned to draw a line between fantasies I want to enact in real life and fantasies I only want to read about. This sort of disclaimer helps create that distinction.
It's occurred to me recently that such disclaimers are even more necessary when an author is writing about BDSM or various extreme acts. Fantasy BDSM is often quite different from the reality. There are obvious distinctions, like whether or not safe words are being used. But there are deeper ones that may only be clear to people with actual experience with BDSM. For example, I find that many authors don't depict emotional effects in a way I find accurate. I often don't see aftercare (for sub or dom or both). And the list goes on.
Given the popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey, this has been on my mind a lot. I read an interesting post by avflox on how the book portrays BDSM:
I wasn't far into the story when I realized that Fifty Shades of Grey not only sets people who live a BDSM lifestyle back decades in terms of being understood by society, but that it eroticizes dangerous practices as well, especially for those who are new to this aspect of sexuality and looking to incorporate it into their lives.
The post's author goes on to provide an in-depth analysis that's well worth reading.
But I think such problems aren't only present in Fifty Shades of Grey. I've read plenty of erotica that created similar misconceptions. I think that a disclaimer would be a nice start -- and, ironically, it's often the sort of thing I see from people who have more familiarity with the actual practice of BDSM, and might be inclined to write more realistically in the first place.
Here's some language from the disclaimer before Deliver Us, an m/m BDSM novel by Lynn Kelling:
This story depicts fictional BDSM. The characters are not models for the Safe, Sane, and Consensual forms embraced by most current practitioners of BDSM. The author takes license with the use of BDSM for dramatic effect. It is not recommended as a manual for how to practice BDSM.
I think this kind of thing is necessary -- perhaps even more necessary than having characters use condoms. Many of us were taught to use condoms in school, but many of us have never been taught much about BDSM. What I like about this disclaimer is that it might make someone Google "Safe, Sane, and Consensual" (the capital letters help there).
Kelling's novel is full of hot scenes that I wouldn't actually want to see happening in real life. That's fine -- the book makes clear that they're fantasy, and that they're not to be emulated.
Like it or not, erotica is the main kind of sex education a lot of people are getting -- I know it was for me. It's nice to see a dose of reality.
(For the record, Kelling's book is published by Forbidden Fiction, which has also published several stories of mine.)
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Writing and the Wet Test
I blogged a few days back about reading and "the wet test," saying I read plenty of erotica that wouldn't necessarily make me come. I've been thinking about how this idea applies to writing.
There's plenty to say on this subject, but one point I'd make is that it's difficult to write erotica about subjects that really get me off. If just saying the words "nipple clamps" makes me want to come, I can grossly misjudge how hot my scenes are. When I'm blinded by lust, it's easy to go too fast. It's easy to imagine that what's going on in the reader's head is as vivid as what's going on in mine.
Some of my best scenes, on the other hand, have been about things that don't have so much inherent turn-on for me. My head is clear enough to pay attention to craft. I never submit a story until I'm turned on by the sex in it, but I think my writing is sometimes better when I have to work for it. There's a foreplay analogy in there, I think.
That said, hottest of all is when I can closely describe a sex act that really, really turns me on. But these stories are the hardest for me to write.
There's plenty to say on this subject, but one point I'd make is that it's difficult to write erotica about subjects that really get me off. If just saying the words "nipple clamps" makes me want to come, I can grossly misjudge how hot my scenes are. When I'm blinded by lust, it's easy to go too fast. It's easy to imagine that what's going on in the reader's head is as vivid as what's going on in mine.
Some of my best scenes, on the other hand, have been about things that don't have so much inherent turn-on for me. My head is clear enough to pay attention to craft. I never submit a story until I'm turned on by the sex in it, but I think my writing is sometimes better when I have to work for it. There's a foreplay analogy in there, I think.
That said, hottest of all is when I can closely describe a sex act that really, really turns me on. But these stories are the hardest for me to write.
Rising to the Challenge
Erotica writer Remittance Girl recently issued a challenge:
The challenge comes from a theory she has about what makes BDSM feel like BDSM:
When I read the challenge, I thought immediately of cunnilingus, which has the reputation of being a service given to a recipient, but often makes me feel extremely vulnerable. Below is the same cunnilingus scene, one kinky and one vanilla (though my partner questions whether the vanilla version is fully vanilla). The dialogue and actions in each are exactly the same. Let me know what you think!
Vanilla Version
He smiles as he settles himself between my legs, and I whimper with anticipation. His delicious tongue has learned my ways. He can make me come fast, or extend the pleasure to an achingly slow burn. Tonight, we both want it slow. The half hour we spent kissing on the couch was only the beginning.
He touches down on my clit, tongue delivering the firm, wet, velvet strokes that are a sure thing for me. Little scrapes of his teeth help me hold myself back, slowing my path to orgasm. Even with the nibbling, I'm going to come soon if he doesn't stop. The foreplay has me more than ready.
"Please," I say. One finger in my cunt would make me come, but I don't want to yet. I want to feel his face between my legs. I want to have enough time to long for him.
He knows this is how I work. "What do you want?" I hear the grin in his voice. He grips the cheeks of my ass. I squirm, desire and excitement getting the better of me.
I meet his eyes. "Bite my clit," I whisper.
He knows how I like it. His teeth pinch my clit. It brings tears to my eyes, but it cools me down just enough that he can put his fingers in me without making me come. I groan at the exquisite sensation of his hand pumping in and out of my cunt. I wouldn't really have been able to feel it through an orgasm's spasms. I couldn't have noticed every twitch of his fingertips the way I do now.
The moment stretches. He lifts his head slightly, and I arch to go with him. The synchronization between us overwhelms me.
"I love you," I breathe, and I've relaxed enough now that he can release his teeth and pleasure my throbbing clit with a soft and gentle tongue. Perfectly still except for the twitching of my inner thighs, I can enjoy him. I lie limp on the mattress, cunt open to him, soaking up every bit of pleasure he can offer me. There's no hurry tonight. We can delight in each other as we will.
Kinky Version
He smiles as he settles himself between my legs, and I can't help but whimper. There's no way to tell if he plans to use teeth or tongue until his mouth contacts my clit. He touches down and it's both — pleasure I can't resist delivered by firm, wet, velvet strokes, but restrained by scrapes that shock me out of any climb toward orgasm that I might make.
"Please," I say. I want him to play nice with my cunt, just lick me and maybe stick some fingers in. Let me come. That's what would feel the best. But at the same time... I have to supress the wild urge to ask him to bite down. Hard. I know he likes to hurt me. I like for him to like it.
He knows this is how I work. "What do you want?" I hear the grin in his voice.
This is the decision point. Pleasure or pain. He always leaves the choice in my hands. He grips the cheeks of my ass. My body squirms to match what's happening in my mind.
"Bite my clit," I whisper, both defeated and excited.
His teeth pinch my clit. It brings tears to my eyes. I'm afraid to move at all, for fear of increasing the pain. All I want is to get away from his mouth, as far and as fast as I can. He shoves his fingers into my hole, but it's a tease. No way can I come from that now.
The moment stretches. He lifts his head slightly, making my body arch to keep his bite from becoming more painful. And it hits me — mental surrender that comes in waves, satisfying more than the physical sensation of orgasm ever could.
"I love you," I breathe, and now he releases his teeth and pleasures my throbbing clit with a soft and gentle tongue. Perfectly still except for the twitching of my inner thighs, I can finally relax and serve him. I lie limp on the mattress, cunt open to him. I don't tense my muscles or work at achieving an orgasm. I present my spread lips as an offering, no longer fearing either teeth or tongue. He uses me as he wills.
Have a go at writing the exact same sex act, using nothing but the tone of language and the POV of the narrator to present it as either kinky or vanilla.
The challenge comes from a theory she has about what makes BDSM feel like BDSM:
I came to the conclusion that writing BDSM sex is far less about the external scene than it is about how the person whose POV is represented in the narrative is interpreting it. The M/C in Fifty Shades of Grey has a very vanilla state of mind (and I would extrapolate and venture that E.L. James is probably not much of an avid practicioner of BDSM herself). And so, appropriately, she reads/interprets/experiences all the sex as vanilla, even when, externally, it doesn’t appear to be.
When I read the challenge, I thought immediately of cunnilingus, which has the reputation of being a service given to a recipient, but often makes me feel extremely vulnerable. Below is the same cunnilingus scene, one kinky and one vanilla (though my partner questions whether the vanilla version is fully vanilla). The dialogue and actions in each are exactly the same. Let me know what you think!
Vanilla Version
He smiles as he settles himself between my legs, and I whimper with anticipation. His delicious tongue has learned my ways. He can make me come fast, or extend the pleasure to an achingly slow burn. Tonight, we both want it slow. The half hour we spent kissing on the couch was only the beginning.
He touches down on my clit, tongue delivering the firm, wet, velvet strokes that are a sure thing for me. Little scrapes of his teeth help me hold myself back, slowing my path to orgasm. Even with the nibbling, I'm going to come soon if he doesn't stop. The foreplay has me more than ready.
"Please," I say. One finger in my cunt would make me come, but I don't want to yet. I want to feel his face between my legs. I want to have enough time to long for him.
He knows this is how I work. "What do you want?" I hear the grin in his voice. He grips the cheeks of my ass. I squirm, desire and excitement getting the better of me.
I meet his eyes. "Bite my clit," I whisper.
He knows how I like it. His teeth pinch my clit. It brings tears to my eyes, but it cools me down just enough that he can put his fingers in me without making me come. I groan at the exquisite sensation of his hand pumping in and out of my cunt. I wouldn't really have been able to feel it through an orgasm's spasms. I couldn't have noticed every twitch of his fingertips the way I do now.
The moment stretches. He lifts his head slightly, and I arch to go with him. The synchronization between us overwhelms me.
"I love you," I breathe, and I've relaxed enough now that he can release his teeth and pleasure my throbbing clit with a soft and gentle tongue. Perfectly still except for the twitching of my inner thighs, I can enjoy him. I lie limp on the mattress, cunt open to him, soaking up every bit of pleasure he can offer me. There's no hurry tonight. We can delight in each other as we will.
Kinky Version
He smiles as he settles himself between my legs, and I can't help but whimper. There's no way to tell if he plans to use teeth or tongue until his mouth contacts my clit. He touches down and it's both — pleasure I can't resist delivered by firm, wet, velvet strokes, but restrained by scrapes that shock me out of any climb toward orgasm that I might make.
"Please," I say. I want him to play nice with my cunt, just lick me and maybe stick some fingers in. Let me come. That's what would feel the best. But at the same time... I have to supress the wild urge to ask him to bite down. Hard. I know he likes to hurt me. I like for him to like it.
He knows this is how I work. "What do you want?" I hear the grin in his voice.
This is the decision point. Pleasure or pain. He always leaves the choice in my hands. He grips the cheeks of my ass. My body squirms to match what's happening in my mind.
"Bite my clit," I whisper, both defeated and excited.
His teeth pinch my clit. It brings tears to my eyes. I'm afraid to move at all, for fear of increasing the pain. All I want is to get away from his mouth, as far and as fast as I can. He shoves his fingers into my hole, but it's a tease. No way can I come from that now.
The moment stretches. He lifts his head slightly, making my body arch to keep his bite from becoming more painful. And it hits me — mental surrender that comes in waves, satisfying more than the physical sensation of orgasm ever could.
"I love you," I breathe, and now he releases his teeth and pleasures my throbbing clit with a soft and gentle tongue. Perfectly still except for the twitching of my inner thighs, I can finally relax and serve him. I lie limp on the mattress, cunt open to him. I don't tense my muscles or work at achieving an orgasm. I present my spread lips as an offering, no longer fearing either teeth or tongue. He uses me as he wills.
Friday, April 27, 2012
My Question About the Six Swans
I recently blogged at Forbidden Fiction about how my fairy tale retellings usually start with a question--a point of dissatisfaction in the original story. This is true of The Six Swans, too.
In the classic version of the story, the main character must spend seven years silent, sewing shirts for her brothers, in order to break the curse that has turned them into swans. A king's servant discovers her in a tree one day. For some reason, she throws her clothing down to him one article at a time (in the story, this is presented as an attempt at discouragement, but that really doesn't make sense to me). He is stunned by her beauty and takes her to the king, who promptly marries her. The king's mother is evil, for some reason, and takes away the babies the new queen bears, telling the king that his silent wife is responsible for murdering them. The king refuses to believe this for quite some time. Eventually, his mother convinces him that his wife is killing the children, and he agrees to have her burned at the stake. Luckily, this happens to coincide with the end of the seven years, and the girl is able to restore her brothers and explain herself just before she dies by fire.
Now, that is a weird, weird story. What particularly interested me was the king's trust in the main character. She can't speak to him. Her behavior must appear insane. What could he have known or felt about her that would give him the sort of confidence in her that he displays, in the face of damning evidence that she's a murderer.
Trying to answer that question drove my entire writing of the novella. In my version of The Six Swans, the sexual connection between the king and his bride is so strong that his body trusts her even when his mind does not. Trust is visceral and physical.
As is common for me, that hypothesis then spread through the story, affecting how I portrayed both of the main characters.
If you'd like to see how this worked out, you can pick up the book here.
In the classic version of the story, the main character must spend seven years silent, sewing shirts for her brothers, in order to break the curse that has turned them into swans. A king's servant discovers her in a tree one day. For some reason, she throws her clothing down to him one article at a time (in the story, this is presented as an attempt at discouragement, but that really doesn't make sense to me). He is stunned by her beauty and takes her to the king, who promptly marries her. The king's mother is evil, for some reason, and takes away the babies the new queen bears, telling the king that his silent wife is responsible for murdering them. The king refuses to believe this for quite some time. Eventually, his mother convinces him that his wife is killing the children, and he agrees to have her burned at the stake. Luckily, this happens to coincide with the end of the seven years, and the girl is able to restore her brothers and explain herself just before she dies by fire.
Now, that is a weird, weird story. What particularly interested me was the king's trust in the main character. She can't speak to him. Her behavior must appear insane. What could he have known or felt about her that would give him the sort of confidence in her that he displays, in the face of damning evidence that she's a murderer.
Trying to answer that question drove my entire writing of the novella. In my version of The Six Swans, the sexual connection between the king and his bride is so strong that his body trusts her even when his mind does not. Trust is visceral and physical.
As is common for me, that hypothesis then spread through the story, affecting how I portrayed both of the main characters.
If you'd like to see how this worked out, you can pick up the book here.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
The Fantastic Art of Siol na Tine
You may have noticed some lovely cover images gracing my blog recently. Many of them are thanks to Siol na Tine, an artist who has recently begun working with Forbidden Fiction. I've heard a lot about how cover artists rarely get sufficient appreciation -- authors will go on about how great the cover is without bothering to find out who did the work. I've been really struck by Siol na Tine's covers from the start -- for one thing, I could really tell the artist was paying attention to details of the stories. The images also have a distinctive style, and great use of color.
For example, In the Death of Winter, a forthcoming story, is loosely based on Mongolian mythology. I took a lot of liberties and created my own fantasy narrative, but I was careful to make the climate and vegetation plausibly Mongolian, and the main God character in the story is based on a Mongolian figure known as Erglik or Erlik. As soon as I saw Siol na Tine's cover, I knew this background had been preserved. The bound postulant pictured is clearly not a white girl. The figure of Erlik matches traditional distinctive features of the God (such as the twisted black horns). It's incredibly gratifying to see this sort of vision carried through. I've heard horror stories about "whitewashed" covers, where characters of distinctive ethnicities suddenly become blond and white. I make a point of trying to identify my characters as coming from somewhere specific, and it's great to have the publisher and artist respect and preserve that effort.
For The Snake and the Lyre, Eurydice has a Greek appearance, and the artist has captured several key elements of the story.
I'm not the only one to benefit, though. I've inserted pictures of a couple other great covers, including the one Siol na Tine did for Mina Kelly's A Little Night Swimming, and the one for Kailin Morgan's Underneath It All.
I've been pleased that Forbidden Fiction has put the effort in to produce covers even for shorter works, and it's particularly exciting to see them take on an artist so interested in the mythological and folkloric roots of the stories being illustrated.
Siol na Tine has written an introduction here, which gives insight into the process of producing covers and the research that goes into them.
If you want to see more from Siol na Tine, check out this flickr stream related to Forbidden Fiction -- you can also see sketches of staff members. It was really fun for me to put faces to all these people I've been e-mailing.
For example, In the Death of Winter, a forthcoming story, is loosely based on Mongolian mythology. I took a lot of liberties and created my own fantasy narrative, but I was careful to make the climate and vegetation plausibly Mongolian, and the main God character in the story is based on a Mongolian figure known as Erglik or Erlik. As soon as I saw Siol na Tine's cover, I knew this background had been preserved. The bound postulant pictured is clearly not a white girl. The figure of Erlik matches traditional distinctive features of the God (such as the twisted black horns). It's incredibly gratifying to see this sort of vision carried through. I've heard horror stories about "whitewashed" covers, where characters of distinctive ethnicities suddenly become blond and white. I make a point of trying to identify my characters as coming from somewhere specific, and it's great to have the publisher and artist respect and preserve that effort.
For The Snake and the Lyre, Eurydice has a Greek appearance, and the artist has captured several key elements of the story.
I'm not the only one to benefit, though. I've inserted pictures of a couple other great covers, including the one Siol na Tine did for Mina Kelly's A Little Night Swimming, and the one for Kailin Morgan's Underneath It All.
I've been pleased that Forbidden Fiction has put the effort in to produce covers even for shorter works, and it's particularly exciting to see them take on an artist so interested in the mythological and folkloric roots of the stories being illustrated.
Siol na Tine has written an introduction here, which gives insight into the process of producing covers and the research that goes into them.
If you want to see more from Siol na Tine, check out this flickr stream related to Forbidden Fiction -- you can also see sketches of staff members. It was really fun for me to put faces to all these people I've been e-mailing.
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