In regards to the last of erotica's sins, a well-known publisher of sexually explicit materials put it elegantly and succinctly: "Just don't fuck anyone to death." As with the rest of the potentially problematic themes I've discussed here, the bottom line is context and execution: you can almost anything if you do it well—and if not well, then don't bother doing it at all.
Violence can be a very seductive element to add to any genre, let alone erotica, mainly because it's just about everywhere around us. Face it, we live in a severely screwed up culture: cut someone's head off and you get an R rating, but give someone head and it's an X. It's kind of natural that many people want to use some degree of violence in their erotica, more than likely because they've seen more people killed than loved on-screen. But violence, especially over-the-top kind of stuff (i.e. run of the mill for Hollywood), usually doesn't fly in erotic writing. Part of that is because erotica editors and publishers know that even putting a little violence in an erotic story or anthology concept can open them up to criticism from all kinds of camps: the left, the right, and even folks who'd normally be fence-sitters—and give a distributor a reason not to carry the book.
One of the biggest risks that can happen with including violence in an erotic story is when the violence affects the sex. That sounds weird; especially since I've often said that including other factors are essential to a well-written erotic story. The problem is that when violence enters a story and has a direct impact on the sex acts or sexuality of the character, or characters, the story can easily come off as either manipulative or pro-violence. Balancing the repercussions of a violent act on a character is tricky, especially as the primary focus of the story. However, when violence is not central to the sexuality of the characters but can affect them in other ways it becomes less easy to finger point—such as in noir, horror, etc—where the violence is background, mood, plot, or similar without a direct and obvious impact on how the character views sex. That's not to say it isn't something to shoot for, but it remains one of the harder tricks to pull off.
Ever seen Sweet Smell of Success? If you haven't then you should: because, even though the film was shot in 1957, it rings far too much, and far too loudly, in 2012.
In a nutshell, Sweet Smell of Success (directed by Alexander Mackendrick from a script by the amazing Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman) is about the all-powerful columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster) – who can make or break anyone and anything he wants -- and the desperate press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis), who loses everything for trying to curry favor with Hunsecker for ... well, that Sweet Smell of Success.
So ... 1957 to 2012. A lot's changed, that's for sure. But recently rewatching this, one of my all-time favorite films, gave me a very uncomfortable chill. But first a bit of history (stop that groaning): you see, J.J. Hunsecker was based – more than thinly – on another all-powerful columnist, the man who once said, about the who he was, and the power he wielded as, "I'm just a son of a bitch."
There was even a word, created by Robert Heinlein of all people, to describe a person like this: winchell – for the man himself -- Walter Winchell.
A book, movie, star, politician – anyone who wanted success would do, and frequently did, anything for both Walter and his fictional doppelganger J.J. Hunsecker. Their power was absolute ... even a rumor, a fraction of a sentence could mean the difference between headlines and the morgue of a dead career. As Hunsecker puts it to a poor entertainer who crossed him: "You're dead, son. Get yourself buried."
Welcome to 2012: we have iPhones, Ipads, Nooks, Kindle's, 4G, Bluetooth, Facebook, Twitter ... in many ways we're just a food pill away from every futuristic fantasy ever put-to-pulp. But there's a problem ... and it’s a big one.
The Internet has altered – quite literally – everything, but in many ways the speed, and totality, of its change has made a lot of people, writers to readers to just-plain-surfers, desperate for benchmarks: a place or person to go to that, they hope, will be there in the morning.
For writers this often means an editor, site, or just another writer. In the 'biz' these people are called names: meaning that mentioning by them seems to have a kind of rub-for-luck power for other writers – with the ultimate prize being (gasp) noticed by them. Sadly, this make-or-break mojo is occasionally true – though a surprising large number of these “names” are only divine in their twisted little minds.
I've said it before and so, naturally, I have to say it again: writing anything – smut to whatever you want to create – is damned hard work: all of us writers put our heart and souls down on the digital page and then send it out into a far-too-frequently uncaring digital universe. No writer ... let me say that again with vehement emphasis ... is better than any other writer. Sure, a few get paid more, have more books or stories published, but the work involved is the same – as is their history: name any ... well, name and you will see a person who, once upon a time, was sitting in the dark with nothing but hopes and dreams.
Which is why these ... winchells give me unpleasant flashbacks to Lancaster telling Curtis: "Son, I don't relish shooting a mosquito with an elephant gun, so why don't you just shuffle along?"
Honestly, I will get to the point: never forget that what you are doing, as a writer, is special and wonderful. Yeah, you might be rough around the edges; sure, you may be years away from stepping out of the shadows and into the blinding light of being (gasp) a name yourself; but you deserve respect.
I have a simple rule. Okay, it might be a little harsh but it keeps me going in the face of trying to get out there into the big, wide, and far-too-uncaring world: ignore me and I ignore you.
Facebook likes and comments, twitter responses, by the way, don't count. That's not communication – at least not to me (not to sound like a crotchety old man). If I write anyone – an editor, site, or just another writer – and I don't get an answer then I wish you into the cornfield. The same goes with rude responses ... like the writer who asked me to promote her book. I said that I would if she'd promote mine as well. Quid pro quo, right? She never wrote back – not even after a few polite suggestions for mutual exposure ... so I hope she likes popcorn.
Being rude, not answering messages, playing the "are you a name? If not then screw you" game: there is no reason for this behavior. Never!
Instead of trying to suck to up names or support them and their sites with a pathetic fantasy that you, too, may actually be seen by them, find some real, true, and good friends: people who will hold your hand when it gets dark and scary; who will bring you along no matter where they go; who understand the bumps in the road because they, too, are on the same path; who will understand kindness but also karma – that good begets good.
Being a winchell may taste good, at first: being able to consider yourself better than other writers, to associate with other names in the business, to be able to make – or break – anyone who want for whatever reason you have ... but there's a great Hollywood expression that rings in my head just as loudly as any line from Sweet Smell of Success:
Always be nice to the people you meet on the way up, because those are the very same people you'll be meeting on the way back down.
In closing, remember that anyone, anywhere – name or not -- who doesn't treat you with at least professional equality, mutual respect, or just simple human politeness is, to quote from Sweet Smell of Success: "A cookie full of arsenic."
For all that we know about Sherlock Holmes there is much that is a complete and total mystery about him - and, as he would say himself, a that is a puzzle that should be addressed. Is it any wonder that so many of us have scratched our much-smaller craniums and pondered his relationships, trying to use his own maxim of "when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth" to peer down deep into those mysteries? This timely collection focuses on his unmentioned private life. In short, the great detective's amorous inclinations, the part of life Victorians were so silent on, but so profligate in its practice. And the authors don't stop there - you will also find stories about the sexual side of other key characters who make up the canon: Irene Adler, Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson, and even that most infamous of villains, Professor Moriarty. Included are many of today's most popular authors including Michael Kurland (American Book Award and the Edgar Award finalist), Angela Caperton (Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica), M. Christian (Lambda Award finalist), and such other distinguished practitioners of the short story and novelette as Cesar Sanchez Zapata, Kate Lear, Wade Heaton, Dorla Moorehouse, Ivo Benengeli, Billierosie, Zachary Jean, PM White, Violet Vernet. As Holmes himself said: "The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!
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The Adventures of the Gentlemen TravelersShe has seen many things in her life, but the young servant girl is about to get a whole new eye opener.
He may be exceptionally good at solving mysteries, but that is not all that interests Holmes.
The unique make-up of the house provides the young girl a particularly good vantage point to listen in and observe her favorite detective, and she settles in watch. Holmes does not disappoint when it comes to the case, but what he engages in with Watson sets her body on fire.
We all have a little voyeur lurking under the surface, and this is just what it is looking for.
The Many Facets of EcstasySetting out to complete her mission Madame Josephine Gellizeau goes to the one man whom she knows will have the answers. The lady is and is not all that she seems, but Holmes has no doubt that he will uncover the truth. Holmes listens intently to what Ma dame Gellizeau tells him, and then he acts. Once again Watson is awed by his friend’s acuity, but this time he is also inflamed by the lengths they will go to reveal everything. Challenges and mysteries are Holmes’ forte, but this story adds a steaming hot element not to be missed.
L’Instinct SuffitThere is more to learning a language than just memorizing the words, and for Watson, the French language is on a whole other level.
Spending much of his youth in France, Holmes speaks the language fluently, but in the heat of the moment it comes unconsciously as well.
He may not know exactly what Holmes is saying, but for Watson the meaning is clear, and he would not want it any other way.
For these two men French is most certainly the language of lovers, and after this read, it may become yours as well.
Mrs. Hudson’s LodgerTimes are hard, and Martha Hudson will have to rent out space in her home if she wishes to keep it.
The rooms for rent are just what Holmes is looking for, but he is not so sure about the mistress of the house. Finding suitable lodging in London is a necessity for Holmes, and he seems to have found just the place. It seems however that his and Watson’s presence is having quite an unusual effect on their hostess.
This should serve as a warning to any lady who thinks she is past her prime. You could spontaneously combust if you do not seek release on a regular basis!
Holmes and the Case of the Two CouplesBest friends for many years, Holmes is quite surprised by the events of one quiet evening.
It is good for a marriage to keep things interesting, and Watson has every intention of doing just that.
Everyone has something they think that no one knows about, but with a friend like Holmes that is quite unlikely. Watson never really thought he would be on the receiving end of Holmes’ clue cracking abilities, but that is exactly where he finds himself.
While I can say I would be rather offended if I were Watson, it just goes to show that a mind like Holmes’ never shuts off.
Sherlock Holmes and the Curse of the MoonstoneBeing accused of stealing a valuable family jewel Lady Florence McGuire seeks out the famed investigator. Not all is exactly what it seems; of that Holmes has no doubt.
It may have been a guess on Watson’s part, but he could not be closer to truth or farther away. Watson is also introduced to a lifestyle that he had no previous notion that Holmes engaged in, and he is more than thrilled to be included.
No one can surprise us more than our friends, and in this story Watson gets the biggest surprise of all.
The Curious Case on Pomegranate StreetOn the search for Oscar Wilde and his wife Holmes enters into a very uncomfortable situation.
Indulgence in anything that pleases the body and the soul is what Armen lives for.
Not since he was a young man has Holmes given in to baser desires, but now the choice is out of his hands. He journeys back in time to relive a moment of sensual delight, and awakens to find himself being reintroduced to that same feeling.
It is so much more fun to be bad, and I love that Holmes gets to have a whole lot of fun.
The Case of the Unnatural Natural InstinctReflecting back Holmes recalls an event he feels it is time to share with his best friend.
Watson always knew his friend had had some very interesting exploits, but this one shocks him nonetheless.
It began with the case of a young woman searching for an unseen lover, but for Holmes to dismiss the woman without explanation confuses Watson. He gets his answer upon her departure however, and it stuns him even more.
This may all be in the name of science for Holmes, but it is a titillating and sexy read for us.
The Picture of Oscar WildeCompletely distressed Oscar Wilde goes to a friend to help him get some answers. A few good clues lead Professor Moriarty to only one conclusion.
The photograph is good but it has been doctored and Moriarty is pretty confident he knows the culprit. The man blackmailing him is not who Oscar first suspects, but when the evidence is laid out, the truth is revealed.
I find this to be a much more interesting who-done-it, mainly because it puts Moriarty in a whole new light.
The Adventure of the Empty BoxNot much captures Holmes’ interest lately that is until a very unconventional piece of technology comes to his attention.
To get a mystery solved Annabelle King Lovelace requires an expert, and she knows just who to talk to.
Right away Holmes is aware that not everything is on the up and up, and he sends Watson to keep a very close eye on Annabelle. In the mean time he has his own path to follow, but even he is surprised at where it all leads.
Even the best can be caught with their pants down, and it is intriguing to see how Holmes gets out of this very sticky situation.
The Turkish BathA nice hot bath is often a luxury not many can afford on a daily basis, but Holmes has a better idea.
Having spent a good deal of time in the arms of his best friend and lover, Watson does not need much convincing to try out a public bath house.
The dingy water and overly crowded public bath houses in London make it easy for Holmes to convince Watson to try out the new Turkish baths. The very private atmosphere, cleanliness, and overall ambiance of the baths lead to an extremely satisfying afternoon for both men.
This is one very sexy, sensual, and steamy read, and you are going to love every sweaty second.
The Curious IncidentMoriarty firmly believes in knowing his enemy, and he wants every last delicious detail.
The secrets she holds are what he is after, but will Irene Adler reveal all?
He has the woman in his hands, and Moriarty expects to learn exactly what makes Holmes tick. He has heard rumors, but what he wants from Irene is complete and intricate accounts of the man’s dirtiest secrets.
It is plain to see the vicarious thrill Moriarty is getting out of Irene’s tales, and I love how this one keeps you guessing the entire time.
Friends, lovers, companions, and confidants describe the wonderfully intricate relationship between Holmes, Watson, and at times Moriarty, and each story has its own version to tell. I love the more erotic tales between these men the most, and The Turkish Bath is probably my favorite. There are also interesting little mysteries in several that will spike your curiosity from time to time. Any one of these authors are well worth the read, but put them all together, and you have a collection that is far from that stuffy English Sherlock Holmes you may have read before.
- thanks to all the great folks who made it to my classes. It was an absolute treat to teach all of them - and I hope everyone had a good time. Keep an eye on my site here for updates, fun, and even more class announcements very, very soon!
Did Oscar Wilde ever mention a baby-shit sofa, as fetishized by Tom of Finland, and crusted with salty, sweet sticky? Cliche to throw out Wilde when reviewing a piece of m4m fic? About as cliche as including a reference to Sex in the City in said fic.
Really, I josh. Because apart from a (for me) slightly delayed pick-up—and the more obvious fact that yours truly is of the vaginal realm—I had fun with, and eventually became engrossed by, M. Christian’s Finger’s Breadth.
Boilermakers, mambo-fuck you gay bars, scenarios seemingly inspired by a homoerotic Misery, and of course the ever prevalent ”asses flexing into handful-sized tightened cheeks” (is that your technology chirping, or is throbbing a better adjective?), Christian flaunts a downright capacity for electric lyric as well as (sorry mum, must include this in such a review) all the “hard cocks, strong cocks, long cocks, thick cocks – bobbing up and down, swinging right and left, even swirling in a sweaty circle,” that you could empty.
Not to mention a devilishly intricate plotline, which goes as follows: Fanning is a freelance cop on a most perplexing case. He kicks himself for not having caught whoever is terrorizing the tequila sunrises of Boyz Bay (did I just coin that?) by luring men for nonconsensual finger lobotomies.
