Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: Bond, James Bond ... Or Do I Really Need An Agent?

Check it out: an oldie (but a goodie) of my Streetwalker columns just went live on the Erotica Readers and Writers site:

The world of professional writing can be ... no, that's not right: the world of professional writing is - without a doubt - a very frightening, confusing place.

Not only are there only a few diehard rules – to either slavishly follow or studiously avoid - but even basic trust can be a very, very rare: should I put my work on my site, or will it be stolen?  Should I even send my work out to other writers, for the very same reason? 

What about editors or - especially - publishers?  Does my editor really have my best interests in mind?  Should I make the changes he or she suggests or should I stand my ground and refuse to change even one word?  Is my publisher doing all they can for my book?  Are they being honest about royalties?  

Back in the days of print - before the revolution – a lot of these questions would have been answered by an agent: a person who not only knew the business but would actually hold a writer's hand and lead them from that doubt and fear and, hopefully, towards success ... however you want to define that word.

Agents spoke the cryptic language of rights and royalties: they could actually read – and even more amazingly - understand a book contract.  They'd be able, with their experience and foresight, to say when a writer should say yes or no to edits.  

They could open doors that no one else could open - and in some ways that still holds true: a few big (and I mean huge) publishers will still not talk to an author who doesn't have an agent.  Don't get me started on the Catch 22 of an agent who will only look at published authors - when publishers won't talk to writers who don’t have agents.

That was then, I hear you say, but what about now?  Well, as the smoke begins to clear from the fires of the digital revolution, a lot of authors (and editors and publishers) are beginning to question even the concept of a literary agent.

Part of this pondering is because the doors that used to be shut to authors, without the key of a publisher, are beginning to swing open.  Yes, a lot of the huge (and I mean immense) houses are still well fortified, but a lot of publishers, a few of them quite sizable, are allowing - if not welcoming - un-agented authors.  

Another part of this doubt is that a lot of agents simply haven't kept up with the times: the ebook revolution, they deluded themselves, is just a passing fad.  Well, it isn't, and many authors who have signed with these kinds of agents have begun to feel that they have hitched their literary wagon to the wrong horse.

But do you need an agent?   

The rule I was taught still holds a fair amount of water: if you are submitting to a small to mid-range publisher an agent is really not necessary - in fact they can actually work against an author. Publishers want a smoothness in their dealings with an author: having to deal with an agent, especially one that feels they have bust a publisher's chops to prove they are worth their percentage can far too often sour the deal.  As an anthology editor - and an Associate Publisher - I've personally had to slam the door on more than a few deals because of an agent who got in the way.

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Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Writing Coaches and Teachers

Check this out: the fun article I wrote for the new - and wonderful - WriteSex site has just gone up at the equally wonderful Erotica Readers And Writers site.  Here's a tease:

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker:

Writing Coaches and Teachers

For new writers, the temptation is obvious: after all, if you don’t know something, shouldn’t you seek out a way to learn about it? The question of how to educate yourself as a writer is a necessary and important one, of course, but an often-invisible second question follows: how do you sift through the piles of would-be writing coaches, teachers and other purveyors of advice to find the ones who will lead you toward genuinely better writing? The problem isn’t that there are over-eager teachers galore, but that far too many of them are preaching from ignorance—or just dully quoting what others have already said.

This is particularly true of erotic romance. Now, I have to admit I’ve been more than a bit spoiled by other genres, where you can write about whatever you want without much of a chance—beyond clumsy writing—of getting rejected for not toeing the line, so approaching erotic romance has been a bit more of a challenge. Romance authors, after all, have been told time and time again that there is a very precise, almost exacting, Way of Doing Things … and if you don’t, then bye-bye book deal.

But times have changed, and while a few stubborn publishers still want erotic romantic fiction that follows established formulas, the quantum leap of digital publishing has totally shaken up by-the-numbers approaches to romance writing. Without going too much into it (maybe in another column…), because ebooks are so much easier to produce, publishers can take wonderful risks on new authors and concepts, meaning that they don’t have to wring their hands in fright that the new title they greenlit will go bust and possibly take the whole company with it.

Because of this freedom, erotic romance can be so much more than it ever was: experimental, innovative, unique, challenging, etc. These are no longer the Words of Death when it comes to putting together a book.

One of the great, underlying tasks of teaching—one I love, but with some reverence and an occasional pang of dread—is challenging the boring, formulaic, way that so many talk about writing (which is also to say that a huge part of the reason I love to teach is that it’s a weird form of revenge against all the bad writing teachers I’ve had over the years). There are, however, far too many writing teachers who relentlessly parrot that erotic romance has to follow a strict formula to be successful. They spell out this formula in stomach-cramping detail: what has to happen to each and every character, in each and every chapter, in each and every book.

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Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: The Best of the Best of the Best

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)


Here's a quote that's very near and dear to my heart:

"From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shapes of things. When I was fifty I had published a universe of designs, but all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with. At seventy five I'll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am eighty you will see real progress. At ninety I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At a hundred I shall be a marvelous artist. At a hundred and ten everything I create; a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before. To all of you who are going to live as long as I do, I promise to keep my word. I am writing this in my old age. I used to call myself Hokosai, but today I sign my self 'The Old Man Mad About Drawing.'"

That was from Katsushika Hokusai, a Japanese painter of the Ukiyo-e school (1760-1849). Don't worry about not knowing him, because you do. He created the famous Great Wave Off Kanagawa, published in his "Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji" -- a print of which you've probably
seen a thousand times.

Hokusai says it all: the work is what's really important, that he will always continue to grow and progress as an artist, and that who he is will always remain less than what he creates.

Writing is like art. We struggle to put our thoughts and intimate fantasies down just-so, then we send them out into an often harsh and uncaring world, hoping that someone out there will pat us on the head, give us a few coins, and tell us we did a good job.

What with this emotionally chaotic environment a little success can push just about anyone into feeling overly superior. Being kicked and punched by the trials and tribulations of the writing life making just about anyone desperate to feel good about themselves -- even if it means losing perspective, looking down on other writers. Arrogance becomes an emotional survival tool, a way of convincing themselves they deserve to be patted on the noggin a few more times than anyone else, paid more coins, and told they are beyond brilliant, extremely special.

It's very easy to spot someone afflicted with this. Since their superiority constantly needs to be buttressed, they measure and wage the accomplishments and merits of other writers putting to decide if they are better (and so should be humbled) or worse (and so should be the source of worship or admiration). In writers, this can come off as someone who thinks they deserve better ... everything than anyone else: pay, attention, consideration, etc. In editors, this appears as rudeness, terseness, or an unwillingness to treat contributors as anything but a resource to be exploited.

Now my house has more than a few windows, and I have more than enough stones, so I say all this with a bowed head: I am not exactly without this sin. But I do think that trying to treat those around you as equals should be the goal of every human on this planet, let alone folks with literary aspirations. Sometimes we might fail, but even trying as best we can -- or at least owning the emotion when it gets to be too much -- is better than embracing an illusion of superiority.

What this has to do with erotica writing has a lot to do with marketing. As in my last column ("Pedaling Your Ass") where I vented a bit on the practice of selling yourself rather than your work, arrogance can be a serious roadblock for a writer. It is an illusion -- and a pervasive
one -- that good work will always win out. This is true to a certain extent, but there are a lot of factors that can step in the way of reading a great story and actually buying it. Part of that is the relationship that exists between writers and publishers or editors. A writer who honestly believes they are God's gift to mankind might be able to convince a few people, but after a point their stories will be more received with a wince than a smile: no matter how good a writer they are their demands are just not worth it.

For editors and publishers, arrogance shows when more and more authors simply don't want to deal with them. After a point they might find themselves with a shallower and shallower pool of talent from which to pick their stories -- and as more authors get burned by their attitude and the word spreads they might also find themselves being spoken ill of to more influential folks, like publishers.

Not to take away from the spiritual goodness of being kind to others, acting superior is also simply a bad career move. This is a very tiny community, with a lot of people moving around. Playing God might be fun for a few years but all it takes is stepping on a few too many toes -- especially toes that belong on the feet of someone who might suddenly be able to help you in a big way some day – making arrogance a foolish role to play.

I am not a Christian (despite my pseudonym) but they have a great way of saying it, one that should be tacked in front of everyone's forehead: "Do onto others as you would have then do unto you." It might not be as elegant and passionate as my Hokusai quote, but it's still a maxim we should all strive to live by -- professionally as well as personally.

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: The Best of the Best of the Best

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

Here's a quote that's very near and dear to my heart:

"From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shapes of things. When I was fifty I had published a universe of designs, but all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with. At seventy five I'll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am eighty you will see real progress. At ninety I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At a hundred I shall be a marvelous artist. At a hundred and ten everything I create; a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before. To all of you who are going to live as long as I do, I promise to keep my word. I am writing this in my old age. I used to call myself Hokosai, but today I sign my self 'The Old Man Mad About Drawing.'"

That was from Katsushika Hokusai, a Japanese painter of the Ukiyo-e school (1760-1849). Don't worry about not knowing him, because you do. He created the famous "Great Wave Off Kanagawa," published in his Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji - a print you've probably seen a thousand times.

Hokusai says it all: the work is what's really important, that he will always continue to grow and progress as an artist, and that who he is will always remain less than what he creates.

Writing is like art. We struggle to put our thoughts and intimate fantasies down just-so, then we send them out into an often harsh and uncaring world, hoping that someone out there will pat us on the head, give us a few coins, and tell us we did a good job.

What with this emotionally chaotic environment a little success can push just about anyone into feeling overly superior. Being kicked and punched by the trials and tribulations of the writing life making just about anyone desperate to feel good about themselves - even if it means losing perspective, looking down on other writers. Arrogance becomes an emotional survival tool, a way of convincing themselves they deserve to be patted on the noggin a few more times than anyone else, paid more coins, and told they are beyond brilliant, extremely special.

It's very easy to spot someone afflicted with this. Since their superiority constantly needs to be buttressed, they measure and wage the accomplishments and merits of other writers putting to decide if they are better (and so should be humbled) or worse (and so should be the source of worship or admiration). In writers, this can come off as someone who thinks they deserve better ... everything than anyone else: pay, attention, consideration, etc. In editors, this appears as rudeness, terseness, or an unwillingness to treat contributors as anything but a resource to be exploited.

Now my house has more than a few windows, and I have more than enough stones, so I say all this with a bowed head: I am not exactly without this sin. But I do think that trying to treat those around you as equals should be the goal of every human on this planet, let alone folks with literary aspirations. Sometimes we might fail, but even trying as best we can -- or at least owning the emotion when it gets to be too much - is better than embracing an illusion of superiority.

What this has to do with erotica writing has a lot to do with marketing. It is an illusion - and a pervasive one - that good work will always win out. This is true to a certain extent, but there are a lot of factors that can step in the way of reading a great story and actually buying it. Part of that is the relationship that exists between writers and publishers or editors. A writer who honestly believes they are God's gift to mankind might be able to convince a few people, but after a point their stories will be more received with a wince than a smile: no matter how good a writer they are their demands are just not worth it.

For editors and publishers, arrogance shows when more and more authors simply don't want to deal with them. After a point they might find themselves with a shallower and shallower pool of talent from which to pick their stories - and as more authors get burned by their attitude and the word spreads they might also find themselves being spoken ill of to more influential folks, like publishers.

Not to take away from the spiritual goodness of being kind to others, acting superior is also simply a bad career move. This is a very tiny community, with a lot of people moving around. Playing God might be fun for a few years but all it takes is stepping on a few too many toes - especially toes that belong on the feet of someone who might suddenly be able to help you in a big way some day - making arrogance a foolish role to play.

I am not a Christian (despite my pseudonym) but they have a great way of saying it, one that should be tacked in front of everyone's forehead: "Do onto others as you would have then do unto you." It might not be as elegant and passionate as my Hokusai quote, but it's still a maxim we should all strive to live by - professionally as well as personally.

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: Seven M.Christians - Number 1: Intelligence Is Imagination With An Erection

Check it out: as part of my Seven M.Christian series (next one goes up tomorrow, btw) I just posted the first installment as part of my on-going Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker column for the always-great Erotica Readers And Writers Site:

Intelligence Is Imagination With An Erection

I didn't always want to be a writer. Sure, I was one of those kids: the ones who are too bright, too creative, too curious – and, yes, in case you're interested, I was bullied ... a lot – but actually doing anything with that brightness, creativity, curiosity didn't pop into mind until high school.

But, boy, did it POP. In retrospect it's more than a bit ... odd (to be polite) how enthusiastic and disciplined I became about writing. In hindsight a lot of it probably had to do with trying to find an escape from a less-than-perfect family dynamic – but another big motivator was that I'd always been the kid who didn't just talk about doing things: I did them. Perfect example: I remember, in early elementary school, discovering that the science classroom had a darkroom ... so I went home and over the weekend read every book I could on photography so when I came back on Monday I developed my first roll of film and did my first few test prints.

Alas, discipline and enthusiasm are fine and good – actually they are absolutely essential in a writer – but my discipline and enthusiasm was focused on Mount Everest: selling a story to the likes of Fantasy & Science Fiction. Early rejections didn't stop me – in fact nothing stopped me – and I kept trying, kept writing, kept submitting: my goal was a short story a week and/or three pages of writing or three pages of just story ideas.

And, you know, it worked -- sort of. I've never sold a story to Fantasy & Science Fiction but all that work, all that passion, paid off ... abet in a very unusual and totally unexpected way.

Eventually I made my way to the Bay Area, got married, and – on a total whim – took a class from Lisa Palac who, at the time, was editing a magazine called FutureSex. When I discovered ... well, sex, my stories got a little more (ahem) mature. It was one of those stories I was brave enough to hand to Lisa.

What happened next is, to resort to cliché – and hyperbole – is the stuff of legends: Lisa not just liked the story but bought it. A year later Susie Bright also liked the story and bought it for Best American Erotica 1994.

Sure, it took me ten years of trying (and, yes, you may whistle at that) but that wasn't important. People often ask me why I write what I write -- lesbian erotica, gay erotica, bisexual erotica, kink after fetish after stroke after stroke – and the answer couldn't be simpler.

I am a writer ... and for someone who lives to tell stories, who worked so hard to hang onto that brightness, creativity, curiosity, discipline, and enthusiasm, finding a way to do what I love to do and be recognized for it, in demand for it, and even paid for it there is simply nothing better.

My name is Chris, my main pseudonym is M.Christian, and I am a pornographer ... and I couldn't be happier.

(by the way, the quote that starts this is by Victor Hugo ... and is a kind of personal philosophy)

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out-

Check this out: I just wrote a brand new "Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker" piece for the always-great Erotica Readers and Writers site - all my previous columns, of course, have been collected in How To Write And Sell Erotica by Renaissance Books.

Here's a tease:

It's a huge no-duh that we live in an Information Age: from high speed Internet to 4G cell networks, we can get whatever we want wherever we want it - data-wise - at practically at the speed of light.

But sometimes I miss the old days. No, they weren't - ever - the Good Old Days (I still remember liquid paper, SASEs, and letter-sized manila envelopes ... shudder), but back then a writer had a damned long time to hear about anything to do withthe biz.

If you were lucky you got a monthly mimeographed newsletter but otherwise you spent weeks, even months, before hearing about markets or trends ... and if you actually wanted contact with another writer you either had to pick up the phone, sit down and have coffee, or (gasp) write a letter.

No, I'm far from being a Luddite. To borrow a bit from the great (and late) George Carlin: "I've been uplinked and downloaded. I've been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing; I know the downside of upgrading. I'm a high-tech lowlife. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bicoastal mutlitasker, and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond."

I love living in The World Of Tomorrow. Sure, we may not have food pills or jetpacks but with the push of a ... well, the click of a mouse I can see just about every movie or show I want, read any book ever written, play incredibly realistic games, or learn anything I want to know.

Here it comes, what you've been waiting for ... but ... well, as I've said many times before, writing can be an emotionally difficult, if not actually scarring endeavor. We forget, far too often, to care for ourselves in the manic pursuit of our writing 'careers.' We hover over Facebook, Twitter and blog-after-blog: our creative hopes of success - and fears of failure - rising and falling with every teeny-tiny bit of information that comes our way.

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Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Fetishes

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)


Of all the things to write, I feel one of the all-time toughest has got to be fetish erotica. Gay or lesbian - or straight if you're gay or lesbian or bisexual - is a piece of cake. I mean take a quick look at it: the elements of arousal are obvious, just insert body part of preference and go with it. For gay erotica it's male body, for lesbians it's female. For straight it's the opposite. You don't have to create the ideal man or woman, in fact it's better to describe someone (the lust object) who is a bit more ... real. Perfection is dull, and can be bad story telling, but a body with its share of wrinkles, blemishes, or sags can ad dimension and depth.

Same with the motivation, the inner world of your character. I've said it before but it bears repeating: the trick to writing beyond your own gender or orientation is in projecting your own mental landscape into the mind of your character. You may not know how gay sex, lesbian sex, or straight sex feels (pick the opposite of your own gender) but you do know what love, affection, hope, disappointment, or even just human skin feels like. Remember that, bring it to you character and your story, and you'll be able to draw a reader in.

But fetishes ... fetishes are tougher. Just to be momentarily pedantic, Webster's says that fetishes are: "an object or body part whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification." That's pretty accurate - or good enough for us here - but the bottom line is that fetishes are a sexual obsession that may or may not directly relate to sex. Some pretty common ones are certain hair colors, body types, smells, tastes, clothing, and so forth.

We all have them to some degree. Just to open the field to discussion, I like breasts. But even knowing I have them doesn't mean I can't really explain why I like big ones. It's really weird. I mean, I can write about all kinds of things but when I try and figure out what exactly the allure of large hooters is for me I draw a blank. The same and even more so used to happen when I tried and write about other people's fetishes.

But I have managed to learn a couple of tricks about it, in the course of my writing as well as boobie dwelling (hey, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon). I've come up with two ways of approaching a fetish, at least from a literary standpoint. The first to remember that fetishes are like sex under a microscope, that part of their power is in focusing on one particular behavior or body part. Let's use legs as an example. For the die-hard leg fetishist their sexuality (all or just a small part) is wrapped around the perfect set of limbs. For a leg man, or woman, the appeal is in that slow, careful depiction of those legs. The sex that happens after that introduction may be hot, but you can't get away with just saying he or she had "a great set of gams." Details! There has to be details - but not just any mind you. For people into a certain body type or style the words themselves are important. I remember writing a leg fetish story and having it come back from the editor with a list of keywords to insert into the story, the terms his readers would respond to, demanded in their stories. Here's where research comes in: a long, slow description is one thing but to make your fetish story work you have to get your own list of button-pushing terminology.

The second approach is to understand that very often fetishes are removed from the normal sexual response cycle. For many people, the prep for a fetish is as important, if not as important, as the act itself. For latex fans - just to use an extreme example - the talcum powder and shaving before even crawling into their rubber can be just as exciting as the black stretchy stuff itself. For a fetish story, leaping into the sex isn't as important as the prep to get to it - even if you do. Another example that springs to mind is a friend of mine who was an infantilist - and before you leap to your own Webster's that means someone who likes to dress up as someone much younger. For him, the enjoyment was only partially in the costume and roll-playing. A larger part of his dress-up and tea parties was in masturbating afterward: in other words the fetish act wasn't sex, it was building a more realistic fetish fantasy for self-pleasure afterwards. Not that all of your literary experiments need to be that elaborate but it does show that for a serious fetishist the span what could be considered 'sex' can be pretty wide.

The why to try your hand at fetish erotica I leave to you - except to say what I've said before: that writing only what you know can lead to boredom for you and your readers. Try new things, experiment, take risks. In the case of fetishes, it can only add to your own sensitivity and imagination - both in terms of writing and story-telling but maybe even in the bedroom.

And who could argue with that?

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: The Four Deadly Sins, Part 4 - Violence

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

One in awhile someone will ask me “What, if anything, is verboten in today’s permissive, literate erotica?” The answer is that pretty much anything is fair game, but there are what are called the four deadly sins: four subjects that a lot of publishers and editors won’t (or can’t) touch. These by no means are set in stone, but they definitely limit where you can send a story that uses any of them. So here, in a special series of columns, are theses sins, and what – if anything – a writer can do with them. Enjoy!

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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 smut - 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, 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 - with a few notable exceptions, such as Thomas Roche’s excellent Noirotica anthology series. 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 very good 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 (such as environment, history, etc.) 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.

Then there’s the issue of severity and gratuitousness. As in depicting the actual sex in sex writing, a little goes a long way: relishing in every little detail of any act can easily push sex, violence, or anything else into the realm of comedy, or at least bad taste. A story that reads like nothing but an excuse to wallow in blood - or other body fluids - can many times be a big turn-off to an editor or publisher. In other words, you don’t want to beat the reader senseless.

The biggest problem with violence is when it has a direct sexual contact. In other words, rape. Personally, this is a big button-pusher, mainly because I’ve only read one or two stories that handled it ... I can’t really say “well” because there’s nothing good about that reprehensible act, but there have been a few stories I’ve read that treat it with respect, depth, and complexity. The keyword in that is “few” - for every well-executed story dealing with sexual assault there are dozens and dozens that make are furious, at least. I still remember the pro-rape story I had the misfortune to read several years ago. To this day I keep in the back of my mind as an example of how awful a story can be.

Sometimes violence can slip into a story as a component of S/M play ... you know: a person assaulted by a masked intruder who is really (ta-da!) the person’s partner indulging in a bit of harsh role-play. Aside from being old hack (and thoroughly predicable), stories like this can also fall into the “all pain is good pain for a masochist” cliche, unless (as with all things) it’s handled with care and/or flair.

Summing up, there is nothing you cannot write about: even this erotic “sin” or the others I’ve mentioned (under-age, bestiality, and incest). However, some subjects are simply problematic in regards to sales potential: themes and activities loaded with emotional booby traps that have to be carefully handled if the story is going to be seen as anything other than a provocative device. The affective use of these subjects has always been dependant in the writer’s ability to treat them with respect. If you have any doubts about what that might be, just imagine being on the receiving end: extrapolate your feelings if one of your own personal traumas or sexual issues was used as a cheap story device or plot point in a story. Empathy is always a very important facility for a writer to develop - especially when dealing with sensitive or provocative issues.

In short, if you don’t like being beaten up, then don’t do it to someone else - of if you do, then try and understand how much it hurts and why. Taking a few body blows for your characters might make you a bit black and blue emotionally but the added dimension and sensitivity it gives can change an erotic sin, something normally just exploitive, to ... well, if not a virtue, then at least a story with a respectful sinner as its author.

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: The Four Deadly Sins, Part 3 - Incest

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

One in awhile someone will ask me “What, if anything, is verboten in today’s permissive, literate erotica?” The answer is that pretty much anything is fair game, but there are what are called the four deadly sins: four subjects that a lot of publishers and editors won’t (or can’t) touch. These by no means are set in stone, but they definitely limit where you can send a story that uses any of them. So here, in a special series of columns, are theses sins, and what – if anything – a writer can do with them. Enjoy!

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Like bestiality, incest is a tough nut: it’s not something you might “accidentally” insert into an erotic story. Also like bestiality, it’s something that can definitely push - if not slam - the buttons of an editor or publisher. Yet, as with all of these “four deadly sins,” the rules are not as set in stone as you’d think. Hell, I even managed to not only write and sell an incest story (“Spike” which is the lead story in Dirty Words) but it also ended up in Best Gay Erotica. The trick, and with any of these erotic button-pushers, is context. In the case of “Spike” I took a humorous, surreal take on brother/brother sexuality - depicting a pair of twin punks who share and share alike sexually, until their “fair play” world is shattered (and expanded) by some rough S/M play. I hardly stood up on a rooftop and shouted, “incest is best” with a story that read like an advertisement to “love thy brother” - literally.

As with any of the “sins”, a story that deals with incest in a thought-provoking or side-ways humorous manner might not scream at an editor or publisher I’M AN INCEST STORY but rather as humorous or though-provoking story, first, and as a story dealing with incest, second. Still, once it comes to light there’s always a chance the story might still scream a bit, but if you’re a skilled writer telling an interesting story there’s still a chance quality could win over theme.

Unlike bestiality, has very, very few “stretches” (like aliens and myths with bestiality). It’s very hard to stumble into incest - in short, you’re related or you’re not. As far as degree of relationship - that depends on the story and the intent. Direct relations are damned tough to deal with, first cousins fooling around behind the barn are quite another. By the way, even though incest is pretty damned apparent in a story, that doesn’t mean the theme or the subtext can’t be touched on. Sometimes the forbidden or the unexpected laying under the surface can add depth to a story: a brother being protective of his attractive sister, a mother shopping for a date for daughter or so, a father trying to steer his son’s sexuality, a daughter’s sexual explorations alarming (and enticing) a mother or father’s fantasies, and so forth. Technically, some of these dip into incest - if not the act then at least the territory, but if handled well they can add an interesting facet to an otherwise pedantic story. It’s a theme that’s also been played with, successfully, for centuries. Even the myth of Pygmalion - a sculptor falling in love with his creation - can almost be considered a story of incest, as the artist was - at first - parent, then lover.

Conversely, incest can dull a situation when the emotions of the lovers involved become turned: as an example, where a person begins to feel more of a caregiver or mentor than a partner - so the thought or even fantasies around sexuality with the person being cared-for or taught start to feel “wrong” or inappropriate. Conversely, someone might enjoy the forbidden spice of feeling sexual towards someone they’ve only thought of as a son or daughter, mother or father figure. This is also an old plaything for storytellers, the most common being a person looking for a partner to replace the strength and nurturing left behind when they grew up and moved out - or, from the new partner’s point of view, the shock in realizing they have been selected to fulfill that role.

As with any of these “sins”, fantasy can be a factor in being able to play with these themes. Having a character imagine making love to mom (shudder) is in many editors or publishers eyes the same thing as actually doing it - but accepting and using the theme in, say, play-acting, where the reality is separated because the participants aren’t related in any way, is more acceptable. As with under-age play, S/M and dominance and submission games can also use incest as a spice or forbidden theme - especially in infantilism games, where one person pretends to be an abusive (or nurturing) parental figure. Once again, play versus reality (even imagined reality) can work where normally no one would dare tread.

The bottom-line, of course, is whether or not the story uses this theme is an interesting or though-provoking way or just as a cheap shot. If you have any questions, either try and look at the story with a neutral eye, ask a friend you respect for their opinion. But I wouldn’t ask your parents ....

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Penis, cock, dick, member, rod ....

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

Just to show either my dedication to this column, or my complete lack of sanity, I’m writing this on my laptop while sitting in the passenger seat of my girlfriend’s car as she drives us back from a Thanksgiving visit to my mom’s house. Ain’t technology wonderful?

One of my favorite things when teaching erotic writing is to talk about how it basically isn’t any different than any other form of writing. You still need, after all, a plot, characterization, description, a sense of place, suspension of disbelief, etc. Thinking otherwise will only put training wheels on your writing, which - believe me - readers and editors can easily pick up on. If you sit down and try to write a damned good story, that happens to be about sex or sexuality, the result will generally be much finer artistically than an attempt that’s just tossed off. The instant you approach a story as “just” anything (horror, romance, science fiction, erotica, etc.) you’ll demean yourself and the reader. The bottom line is that there really isn’t much of a difference between a great erotic story and any other genre’s great story.

With that in mind I agree with most everyone’s advice towards writing short stories (or longer works): polish your writer’s voice, give the story a sense of place and time, flesh out the characters, construct an interesting plot, create evocative descriptions (show don’t tell), etc. One way I tell people to approach erotic writing is to remember that erotica doesn’t blink. In just about every other genre, when sex steps on stage the ‘camera’ swings to burning fireplace logs, trains entering tunnels, and the like - in other words, it blinks away from the sexual scene. In erotica you don’t blink, you don’t avoid sexuality - you integrate it into the story. But the story you’re telling isn’t just the sex scene(s), it’s why the sex IS the story. Something with a bad plot, poor characterization, lousy setting, or lazy writing and a good sex scene is always much worse than a damned good story full of interesting characters, a great sense of place, sparkling writing and a lousy sex scene. The sex scene(s) can be fixed, but if the rest - the meat of the story itself - doesn’t work you’re only polishing the saddle on a dead horse.

So there really isn’t much I believe that separates good writing in any other genre from good smut writing. But like all so-called ‘rules’ of writing, there’s an exception. As you might know, a lot of people preach that it’s poor writing to use the same descriptive word too many times in the same section of writing. In other words:

“The sun blasted across the desert, scorching scrub and weed into burnt yellow, turning soft skin to lizard flesh, and metal to rust. Outside LAST CHANCE FOR GAS, the radiation of the explosion had turned once gleaming signs for COCA-COLA and DIESEL into rust-pimpled ghosts of their former selves.

“Parked outside LAST CHANCE, was a rusted pickup collapsed onto four flat tired, windshield a sparkling spider web under the hard white light of the sun’s explosion.”

Okay that wasn’t terrific, but I am sitting in the passenger seat of a old Toyota while barreling up California highway 101, for goodness sake. The point is - aside from the poor metaphor of the sun as an explosion - the word “rust” springs up a bit too much in that off-the-cuff description. It’s not ‘that’ bad a description, but having the same word pop up repeatedly (especially if it’s tied to the same image, such as ‘rusted metal’ the writing will come of as lazy, unimaginative, or simply dull. To keep this from happening, many writing teachers and guides recommend varying the descriptive vocabulary. Now you don’t need to change rust to ‘corrosion’ or ‘decay’ or ‘encrustation’ once you’ve used it once in a story, but if you need to use the same kind of description in the same paragraph or section you might want to slip in some other, perhaps equally evocative, words as well.

Onto that exception for erotica. In smut, we have a certain list of words that are required for a well-written erotic scene: the vocabulary of genitalia and sex. If you follow the ‘don’t ever repeat’ rule in a sex scene the results are often more hysterical than stimulating.

“Bob’s cock was so hard it was tenting his jeans. He desperately wanted to touch it, but didn’t want to rush. Still, as he sat there, the world boiled down to him, what he was watching, and his penis. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Carefully, slowly, he lowered his zipper and carefully pulled his dick out. Unlike a lot of his friends, Bob was happy with his member. It was long, but not too long, and had a nice, fat head. Unlike the rods his friend’s rarely described, his pole didn’t bend - but was nice and straight.”

- another bit of less-than-brilliance as my girlfriend ducks in and out of traffic. But hopefully, you’ll get the idea: if you follow the ‘non-repeat’ commandment, you’ll quickly run out of words to describe what the hell’s going on in your story. With women’s anatomy it gets even worse - I’ve read a lot of amateur stories that go from cunt to pussy to quim to hole to sex ... somehow getting a down-and-dirty contemporary piece to a story that should be titled Lady Rebecca and the Highwayman.

It’s more than perfectly okay to repeat certain words in a story - especially an erotic one - if other words just won’t work, or will give the wrong impression (if there anything less sexy than using ‘hole’ or ‘shaft’?). My advice is to stick to two or three words that fit the time and style of the story, then rotate them: cock to dick, pussy to cunt, etc. Some words can also be used if you feel the story is getting a bit too thin on descriptions: penis, crotch, groin, etc. - but only if kept to a very dull roar.

One of the best ways to avoid this problem is to describe parts of the character’s anatomy rather than using a simple, general word. For example, lips, clit, glans, balls, shaft (when specific, it’s fine, but not as a general word for cock), mons, etc. Not only does this give you more flexibility, but it can be wonderfully evocative, creating a complex image rather than a fuzzy impression of the party going on in your characters’ pants.

The bottom line is what while there is a core similarity between a good erotic story and any other genre, there are a few important stylistic differences - and, as the old saying goes: viva la difference!

Seven Weeks Of M.Christian: Week 4 - Being An Editor

Continuing my seven (possibly terrifying) weeks of M.Christian, here's my newest installment...

...my reasoning behind this is that I haven't really talked a lot about myself for a while so I thought it would be a fun little experiment to post - once a week, for seven weeks - a series of essays about little ol' me: where I came from, my professional journey, being an editor, being a publisher ... and even my hopes and dreams for the future.

Hope you like!

Unlike some writers I actually became an editor very quickly after selling my first story.  I wish I could say it was because of my staggering personal magnetism, overwhelming charisma, or through the brilliance of my talent as a writer but, to be honest, it literally was just matter of right time (1995, the beginning of what some call the "literary erotica" craze) and the right place (I knew someone who had already done books with the publisher). 

My first anthology was called Eros Ex Machina: Eroticizing the Mechanical (later reprinted by the late, lamented Erotic Book Club as Sex Machines) and, if you couldn't tell from the title, is was about people having ... well, sex with all kinds of devices, gizmos, and do-hickeys. 

As with a lot of things, once I'd done one another quickly followed – with a vengeance on my part: as of this writing I'd edited something like 25 anthologies, ranging from pure erotica like the three book deal I got with Sage Vivant (Amazons, Confessions, and Garden Of Perverse) to the non-smutty, and quite literary, pair of Mammoth Books I did with my pal, Maxim Jakubowski (Mammoth Books of Tales Of The Road and The Mammoth Book of Future Cops). 

Now I really wish I could say that there is some kind of trick, or extra-normal talent to editing an anthology.  Oh, sure, there are some things that take a bit of skill and training – which I’ll touch on in a sec – but, by and large, an editor's job boils down to reading, and then selecting, stories.

Of course just this simple part of the job can be the most problematic: what I like, after all, is often light years away from what you might like.  My usual rule of thumb when selecting stories is to look for an author who, first of all, is clearly having fun with the habitually crazy-ass theme I've given them, secondly, knows how to write, and – last but not least – tells a good story.

It shocks people when tell them that, usually, when I edit an erotic-themed anthology, I pay little or no attention to the sex itself.  In fact I typically skim over that part – focusing instead on what the writer is trying to say and how they are saying it. 

As I like to tell people in my Sex Sells: Writing and Selling Erotica class – and have said in my "Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker" column for the incredible, and invaluable, Erotica Readers and Writers site (now – commercial starts – assembled in my new book How To Write And Sell Erotica – commercial ends): a good sex story has to be a good story, beyond anything else.  In fact when I make notes on submissions the worst comment I can make on a story is "just porn:" meaning that there is nothing in the story but page after page of bump-grindy ... and nothing else.

Beyond that I usually select stories that give the book some range and variety – within the limits set by the project, of course.  I'd like to say that I don’t pick stories because the author may or may not be famous but (sigh) I have to be honest that unless it is a very poor story a 'name' can actually help sell a book.  But that does not mean that I only take stories with this in mind – in fact most of the stories I feel are the best are often written by writers who, like I said, are having a fun time with the theme and know that an erotic story is not just about sex.

In addition to being an editor I am, of course, a writer so I really try to be the editor I'd like to be dealing with when I'm wearing that other hat – and because of that I am -- or try really hard to be -- a kind, polite, and conscientious editor: I answer every email, no matter how silly or even insulting, and I always send out rejection letters even though it is a very painful process ... because I am too well aware how much those things can hurt.  But I also take a certain amount of pride in sending out nice rejection letters – if there are such things.

As a writer as well as an editor I can tell you right off the bat that treating an editor as an enemy, approaching them like they are out to steal your work or whatever, is not the way to go.  If someone I reject reacts rudely ... I wish I could say that I turn the other cheek but, honestly, I doubt I will take anything by that author in the future.  Life is too short to deal with prima-donnas and, besides, there are usually stories just a good waiting in the wings.

It's a maybe-silly point of pride with me that many people I've rejected have actually become friends – and, as such, while it won't change a bad story into an accepted one – it does mean I might actually try and help them with their work, or at least encourage them to keep writing.

What can be frustrating about being an anthology editor – please allow me to vent here – is that very, very few reviewers know how to judge them.  The fact is that an editor often has to take what they get – or they've tried to create a spread of approach, style, content, etc. to make the book as well-rounded as possible – a fact lost on many reviewers, who forget this fact and pan a book because a few stories didn't work for them or because they feel the quality of the stories wasn't up-to-par. 

As a writer as well as an editor has also made me very sensitive to bad anthology editors, and so I try very hard act like they do.  As I already mentioned, I always reject – even though it may be a painful thing to do – and I when I say a story has been accepted then it's been accepted: I don't play games with short-lists or change my mind once I've told the author. 

I also feel that an author's work, and voice, is their own, and so I will rarely ask for any kind of rewrite – especially around the plot.  As I writer I honestly can't stand editors who think that, because they are The Editor, that gives them the right to dink with an author's work – with or without their permission.  For me, being an editor just means I'm an administrator of sorts, that my name on the book basically means I created the crazy theme of the book and picked the stories.  That's why I try and downplay myself when I talk about my anthologies and instead focus on the authors who contributed their wonderful stories: it's far more their book than it is mine.

Also being on both sides of the fence has made me very vocal about editors who I feel have let their egos get in the way of the project: I do not play favorites when I talk about my books – choosing to mention one author over another – and I always, to repeat myself a bit, do a book with an eye on being the editor I'd like to deal with as a writer. 

Now even though I said that approaching an editor as if they are some kind if enemy, or reacting poorly in regards to acceptance/rejection, contract terms and all that stuff that does not mean as a writer should not have some say in how things are done – but it's far better to do what I do, as a writer, when I come across an editor who is not being either professional or even just kind: I simply don't send them any more stories for any of their projects – and I tell my other writer friends about my experiences.

In the end, being an editor has been a unique and (to use a cliché) eye-opening experience and, I sincerely hope, has made me respect writers even more.  It means a lot to me that writers say that they like submitting to my books – accepted or not – and that I have a certain amount of respect among writers for being understanding and supportive. 

For me, that is a successful anthology: not sales, or reviews, but that the writers in the book had a good time dealing with me but even-more had a fun time exploring the crazy idea I set before them and had a blast writing their stories. 

Like I said: my name might be on the cover but it is – always – the authors who make an anthology ... and they are the ones deserving of not just recognition but also respect.

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: Self Or Not?

Check this out: I just wrote a neat little "Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker" for the great Erotica Readers & Writers site about the perils of self-publishing.  Here's a tease - for the rest just check here.

Before I begin, a bit of disclosure: While the following has been written in an attempt to be professionally and personally non-biased I am an Associate Publisher for Renaissance E Books. 

Now, with that out of the way...

So, should you stay with the traditional model of working with a publisher or go the self-publishing route?

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking – a lot -- about this.  The arguments for stepping out on your own are certainly alluring, to put it mildly: being able to keep every dime you make – instead of being paid a royalty – and having total and complete control of your work being the big two. 

But after putting on my thinking cap – ponder, ponder, ponder -- I've come to a few conclusions that are going to keep me and my work with publishers for quite some time.

As always, take what I'm going to say there with a hefty dose of sodium chloride: what works for me ... well, works for me and maybe not you.

Being on both sides of the publishing fence – as a writer, editor, and now publisher (even as a Associate Publisher) -- has given me a pretty unique view of the world of not just writing books, working to get them out into the world, but also a pretty good glimpse at the clockwork mechanisms than run the whole shebang. 

For example, there's been a long tradition of writers if not actively hating then loudly grumbling about their publishers.  You name it and writers will bitch about it: the covers, the publicity (or lack of), royalties ... ad infinitum.  Okay, I have to admit more than a few grouches have been mine but with (and I really hate to say this) age has come a change in my perspective.  No, I don't think publishers should be given carte blanch to do with as they please and, absolutely, I think that writers should always have the freedom to speak up if things are not to their liking, but that also doesn't mean that publisher's are hand-wringing villains cackling at taking advantage of poor, unfortunate authors.

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Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: Confessions

Extremely cool: check out this brand new column I just wrote for the excellent Writesex site:

 

My name is Chris – though my pseudonym is usually M.Christian – and I have a confession to make.

I’ve written – and write – a…what’s the technical term? Oh, yeah: shitload of erotica. Some 400 published stories, 12 or so collections, 7 novels. I’ve also edited around 25 anthologies. I even have the honor of being an Associate Publisher for Renaissance eBooks, whose Sizzler Editions erotica imprint has some 1,300 titles out there.

I’ve written sexually explicit gay stories, lesbian stories, trans stories, bisexual stories, BDSM stories, tales exploring just about every kind of fetish, you name it and I can all but guarantee that I’ve written about it. I like to joke that a friend of mine challenged me to write a story to a ridiculously particular specification: a queer vampire sport tale. My answer? “Casey, The Bat.” Which I actually did write…though I dropped the vampire part of it.

Don’t worry; I’m getting to the point. I can write just about anything for anyone – but here comes the confession:

I’ve never, ever written about what actually turns me – what turns Chris – on.

This kind of makes me a rather rare beast in the world of professional smut writing. In fact it’s pretty common for other erotica writers to – to be polite about it – look down their noses at the fact that I write about anything other than my own actual or desired sexual peccadilloes. Some have even been outright rude about it: claiming that I’m somehow insulting to their interests and/or orientations and shouldn’t write anything except what I am and what I like.

To be honest, in moments of self-doubt I have thought the very same thing. Am I profiting off the sexuality of other people? Am I a parasite, too cowardly to put my own kinks and passions out into the world? Am I short-changing myself as a writer by refusing to put myself out there?

For the record, I’m a hetero guy who – mostly – likes sexually dominant women. I also find my head turned pretty quickly when a large, curvy woman walks by. That said, I’ve had wonderful times with women of every size, shape, ethnicity, and interest.

So why do I find it so hard to say all that in my writing? The question has been bugging me for a while, so I put on my thinking cap. Part of the answer, I’ve come to understand, relates directly to chronic depression: it’s much less of an emotional gamble to hide behind a curtain of story than to risk getting my own intimate desires and passions stomped flat by a critical review or other negative reaction from readers. I can handle critical reviews of a story – that’s par for the course in professional writing – but it’s a good question as to whether I could handle critical reviews of my life.
But then I had an eye-opening revelation. As I said, I’ve written – and write – stories about all kinds of interests, inclinations, passions, orientations, genders, ethnicities, ages, cultures…okay, I won’t belabor it. But the point is that I’ve also been extremely blessed to have sold everything I’ve ever written. Not only that, but I’ve had beautiful compliments from people saying my work has touched them and that they never, ever, would have realized that the desires of the story’s narrator and those of the writer weren’t one and the same.

Which, in a nice little turn-around, leads me to say that my name is Chris – though my pseudonym is usually M.Christian – and I have yet another confession to make.

Yes, I don’t get sexually excited when I write. Yes, I have never written about what turns me on. Yes, I always write under a name that’s not my legal one.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel when I write. Far from it: absolutely, I have no idea what actual gay sex is like for the participants; positively, I have not an inkling of what many fetishes feel like inside the minds of those who have them; definitely, I have no clue what it’s like to have sex as a woman…
I do, however, know what sex is like. The mechanics, yeah, but more importantly I work very hard to understand the emotions of sex and sexuality through the raw examination of my own life: the heart-racing nerves, the whispering self-doubts, the pulse-pounding tremors of hope, the bittersweetness of it, the bliss, the sorrows and the warmth of it, the dreams and memories…

I’m working on a story right now, part of a new collection. It’s erotic – duh – but it’s also about hope, redemption, change, and acceptance. I have no experience with the kind of physical sex that takes place in this story but every time I close its file after a few hours of work, tears are burning my cheeks. In part, this emotional investment is about trying to recapture the transcendent joy I’ve felt reading the work of writers I admire.

When I read manuscripts as an anthology editor, or as an Associate Publisher, a common mistake I see in them is a dedication to technical accuracy favored over emotion. These stories are correct down to the smallest detail – either because they were written from life or from an exactingly fact-checked sexual imagination – but at the end, I as the reader feel…nothing.

I’m not perfect – far from it – but while I may lack direct experience in a lot of what I write, I do work very, very hard to put real human depth into whatever I do. I may not take the superficial risk of putting the mechanics of my sexuality into stories and books but I take a greater chance by using the full range of my emotional life in everything I create.

I freely admit that I don’t write about my own sexual interests and experiences. That may – in some people’s minds – disqualify me from being what they consider an “honest” erotica writer, but after much work and introspection I contest that while I may keep my sex life to myself, I work very hard to bring as much of my own, deeply personal, self to bear upon each story as I can.

They say that confession is good for the soul. But I humbly wish to add to that while confession is fine and dandy, trying to touch people – beyond their sex organs – is ever better…for your own soul as well as the souls of anyone reading your work.

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Location, Location

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)


Even before writing about the sex in a sexy story you have to set the stage, decide where this hot and heavy action is going to take place. What a lot of merry pornographers don't realize is that the where can be just as important as the what in a smutty tale. In other words, to quote a real estate maxim: Location, location ... etc.

Way too many times writers will makes their story locales more exotic than the activities of their bump-and-grinding participants: steam rooms, elevators, beaches, hot tubs, hiking trails, space stations, sports cars, airplane bathrooms, phone booths, back alleys, fitting rooms, cabs, sail boats, intensive care wards, locker rooms, under bleachers, peep show booths, movie theaters, offices, libraries, barracks, under a restaurant table, packing lots, rest stops, basements, showrooms -- get my drift?

I know I've said in the past that sexual experience doesn't really make a better smut writer, but when it comes to choosing where your characters get to their business, it pays to know quite a bit about the setting you're getting them into.

Just like making an anatomical or sexual boo-boo in a story, putting your characters into a place that anyone with a tad of experience knows isn't going to be a fantastic time but rather something that will generate more pain than pleasure is a sure sign of an erotica amateur.

Take for instance the wonderful sexual pleasure than can come from screwing around in a car. Haven't done it? Well you should because after you do you'll never write about it -- unless you're going for giggles.

Same goes for the beach. Ever get sand between your toes? Now think about that same itchy, scratchy -- very unsexy -- feeling in your pants. Not fun. Very not fun.

Beyond the mistake of making a tryst in a back alley sound exciting (it isn't, unless you're really into rotting garbage), setting the stage in a story serves many other positive purposes. For instance, the environment of a story can tell a lot about a character -- messy meaning a scattered mind, neatness meaning controlling, etc. -- or about what you're trying to say in the story: redemption, humor, fright, hope, and so forth. Not that you should lay it on so thick that it's painfully obvious, but the stage can and should be another character, an added dimension to your story.

Simply saying where something is happening is only part of the importance of setting. You have to put the reader there. Details, folks. Details! Research, not sexual this time, is very important. Pay attention to the world, note how a room or a place FEELS -- the little things that make it unique. Shadows on the floor or walls, the smells and what they mean to your characters; all kinds of sounds, the way things feel, important minutiae, or even just interesting features.

After you've stored up some of those unique features of a place, use special and evocative descriptions to really draw people in. Though quantity is good, quality is better. A few well-chosen lines can instantly set the stage: an applause of suddenly flying pigeons, the aimless babble of a crowd, rainbow reflections in slicks of oil, twirling leaves on a tree, clouds boiling into a storm ... okay, that was a bit overdone, but you hopefully get my gist.

Once again: location is not something that's only important to real estate. If you put your characters into an interesting, well-thought-out, vividly written setting, it can not only set the stage for their erotic mischief but it can also amplify the theme or add depth to the story. After all, if you don't give your writing a viable place, then a reader won't truly understand where they are -- or care about what's going on.

A Nice Chat With Erzabet's Enchantments

This was a lot of fun to do: I just sat down - virtually - with the great Erzabet of Erzabet's Enchantments for a great little interview. Here's a tempting tease:

1. How did you get started writing erotica?

Well, to be honest, I didn’t really start out to be a smut writer. Oh, sure, I wanted to be a writer – got the bug sometime in late high school – but I never really wanted to write dirty stories full time. Like a lot of writers I tried most of the familiar genres (science fiction, horror, fantasy, mysteries ... you name it) but, frankly, the competition was just far too rough.

Then, by chance, I took a class in erotica writing taught by Lisa Palac (of the late-lamented FutureSex Magazine) and she actually bought one of my stories ... which was then picked up for Best American Erotica 1994 and the rest, as they say, is history.

That's not to say I don't like writing erotica. Far from it: I actually really like being part of a genre that's still new and fresh, with lots of room to experiment and play. While I did spend a lot of time writing and getting rejected I think it's getting me more comfortable with stories and language. So, in the end, it's all turned out pretty well.

2. What is the absolute hottest scene you have ever written...oh please share...we like it naughty here. *cheeky grin*

You know, I don't really think of hotness when I write. I'm usually just focusing on the writing and the tale I'm trying to tell, and the sex scenes just spin out of that. Makes me more than a bit different, I think: some of my smut-writing friends say that they write from ... well, let's say below the belt. I don’t do that – and when I've tried it gets far too distracting to focus. So I just tell stories about characters and sex and the while thing just comes together.

3. I really enjoyed your book about how to write erotica-it was what got me started in the right direction. Can you tell the folks who have not heard about it a little bit to whet their appetites...

Thanks so much! The book is called How To Write And Sell Erotica and it's out (in print as well as 'e') by the great folks at Renaissance E Books ... who (ahem) I happen to be an Associate Publisher for. It's a collection of my essays and articles from my irregular column Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker for the fantastic Erotica Readers And Writers Association. More than anything, the articles were kind of my ... revenge against all the bed writing classes I took when I first started writing. That, and some of the stuff that's come up when I've edited anthologies and now as a publisher. I like to think of the book as being a buck-naked writing book ... but not because it's about smut, but because it's more revealing than and honest than a lot of writing books out there.

4. Tell us about your current work.

Well, right now I'm making my way through a new collection of science fiction erotica – a follow up to my well-received Bachelor Machine book. But I also have plans for a new novel (just have to decide which book too actually write). Meanwhile I'm having a blast working for Renaissance and enjoying teaching classes here in the Bay Area on everything from smut writing to bondage and other kinds of kinky stuff. Check out my site at www.mchristian.com for into on everything I'm into ... some of what I'm into, at least. I do have to keep a few things private ;-)

5. Whip or flogger?

Oddly, even though I teach classes in both (and canes and bondage and paddles and much, much more) I'm actually a very simple fellow ... sexually, at least. Oh, sure, there are a few things I like (ahem – big girls – ahem) but I'm more of a sensualist than a sadist, and more a lover than a masochist. I guess you could say my biggest kink is my writing: I get the biggest turn-on from telling stories than just about anything else.

6. Chocolate or peanut butter?

Chocolate for sure – especially the wickedly wonderful fun stuff like Vosges, or salt and caramel chocolates. Yum!

(I knew we were kindred spirits!) *grin*

7. Beach or mountains?

Hum ... tough call. I like both quite a bit: always loved the ocean and I like it cool, so the mountains are also a favorite. The only place I don't like is anywhere too hot so I'm not a huge fan of the desert ... tough for the right trip and adventure I'm sure I could be convinced to go.

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Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: The Four Deadly Sins, Part 2 - Bestiality

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

One in awhile someone will ask me “What, if anything, is verboten in today’s permissive, literate erotica?” The answer is that pretty much anything is fair game, but there are what are called the four deadly sins: four subjects that a lot of publishers and editors won’t (or can’t) touch. These by no means are set in stone, but they definitely limit where you can send a story that uses any of them. So here, in a special series of columns, are theses sins, and what – if anything – a writer can do with them. Enjoy!

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Only in erotica can the line “Come, Fido!” be problematic. Sorry, that was a nasty joke. Unlike some of the other Four Deadly Sins of smut writing, bestiality is very hard to justify: with few exceptions it’s not something that can be mistaken for something else, or lie in wait for anyone innocently trying to write about sex – unlike, for instance, discussing a first time sexual experience and have it accused of being pro-pedophilia. Bestiality is sex with anything living that’s not human: if it’s not living then it’s a machine, if it was once-living then its necrophilia. Can’t get fuzzy about that, eh? Sorry, another bad joke --

A story that features – positively or negatively – anything to do with sex with animals is tough if not impossible to sell, though some people have accomplished it. However, there are some odd angles to the bestiality “sin” that a lot of people haven’t considered – both positive and negative.

On the negative side, I know a friend who had an erotic science fiction story soundly slammed by one editor because it featured sex with something non-human, technically bestiality – despite the fact that there is a long tradition of erotic science fiction, most recently culminating in the wonderful writing and publishing of Cecilia Tan and her Circlet Press (both very highly recommended). Erotic fantasy stories, too, sometimes get the “we don’t want bestiality” rejection, though myth and legend are packed with sexy demons (incubi and succubae, for example), mermaids (only good for fellatio, of course), ghosts, etc. This doesn’t even get into the more ‘classical’ sexy beasts such as Leda and her famous swan or Zeus and other randy gods and demi-gods in their various animal forms.

Alas, “someone else did it” doesn’t carry any weight with an editor and publisher, especially one that might be justifiably nervous about government prosecution or distributor rejection. Erotica, once again, gets – bad joke number three – the shaft: because erotica is up-front about the nature of its writing, alarm bells go off, unlike if you were writing something scholarly or even pop-culture. Market something as “erotic” and the double standards start popping up all over the place.

On a positive note – as the already mentioned Cecilia Tan has proved – sex with aliens and mythological creatures has always been popular. Anthropomorphizing an animal, adding intellect or obvious will to a creature is a very safe way of touching on (or even embracing) the allure of sex with the unusual, including bestiality. The furry subculture is a close example of this, though they are very clear (and I agree) that this is not bestiality – it’s just a way of eroticizing the exotic, mixing human sexuality with animal features. As long as the critters being embraced are not “real” animals and can give consent, then protests and issues usually fall away. Fantasy, after all, is one thing, and there’s nothing more fantastic that dating a being from Tau Ceti V or something that looks like a raccoon crossed with Miss November, 1979.

There’s another feature of bestiality that can be explored but only until recently has been: the idea of role-playing. In this take, a person will behave like an animal, usually a dog and usually submissive. In these S/M games, the “dog” (notice that they are never cats) is led around on a leash, communicates in barks or whines, drinks and eats from a bowl, and is generally treated – much to his pleasure, or as punishment – like a pooch: one-way it’s a unique power game, read it another and it’s bestiality.

One thing worth mentioning, because some people have brought this up in regards to all of the sins, is the “dream out.” What I mean by that is simple, say you really, really want to, say, write about doing some member of another phylum. That’s cool, but your chances of seeing it in print, or even on a website, are just about slim to none. SF doesn’t turn your crank (okay, okay, enough with the bad jokes) so you say: “Got it! It’s a dream!” Well, I got news for you: a story that’s slipped under the door with that framing device, as a way of getting about the idea of a “real” bestiality story apparent, especially when it opens with “I went to bed” and ends with “Then I woke up” is a pretty damned obvious excuse to write an un-sellable bestiality (or any other “sinful” story).

In short, like with a lot of these erotic “sins” whether or not a story comes across as being thoughtful or just exploitive and shallow depends a lot on how much you, as the writer, has put into the concept: something done cheap and easy will read just that way, versus the outcome if you invest time, thought, and – best of all -- originality. Good work really does win out, and even can wash away some of the more outré’ erotic “sins.”

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Howdy!

I'm thrilled to have another one of my Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker pieces up on the excellent Erotica Readers And Writers site - here's a tease ... for the rest just click here.

Howdy

While it isn't the most important thing to do before sending off a story (that's reserved for writing the story itself), drafting an effective cover letter/email is probably right below it.

So here is a quick sample of what to do and NOT when putting together a cover letter to go with your story. That being said, remember that I'm just one of many (many) editors out there, each with their own quirks and buttons to push. Like writing the story itself, practice and sensitivity is will teach you a lot, but this will give you a start.

So ... Don't Do What Bad Johnny Don't Does:

Dear M. (1),

Here is my story (2) for your collection (3), it's about a guy and a girl who fall in love on the Titanic (4). I haven't written anything like this before (5), but your book looked easy enough to get into (6). My friends say I'm pretty creative (7). Please fill out and send back the enclosed postcard (8). If I have not heard from you in two months (9) I will consider this story rejected and send it somewhere else (10). I am also sending this story to other people. If they want it, I'll write to let you know (11).

I noticed that your guidelines say First North American Serial rights. What's that (12)? If I don't have all rights then I do not want you to use my story (13).

I work at the DMV (14) and have three cats named Mumbles, Blotchy and Kismet (15).

Mistress Divine (16)
Gertrude@christiansciencemonitor.com (17)

(1) Don't be cute. If you don't know the editor's name, or first name, or if the name is real or a pseudonym, just say "Hello" or "Editor" or somesuch.

(2) Answer the basic questions up front: how long is the story, is it original or a reprint, what's the title?

(3) What book are you submitting to? Editors often have more than one open at any time and it can get very confusing. Also, try and know what the hell you're talking about: a 'collection' is a book of short stories by one author, an 'anthology' is a book of short stories by multiple authors. Demonstrate that you know what you're submitting to.

(4) You don't need to spell out the plot, but this raises another issue: don't submit inappropriate stories. If this submission was to a gay or lesbian book, it would result in an instant rejection and a ticked-off editor.

(5) The story might be great, but this already has you pegged as a twit. If you haven't been published before don't say anything, but if you have then DEFINITELY say so, making sure to note what kind of markets you've been in (anthology, novel, website and so forth). Don't assume the editor has heard of where you've been or who you are, either. Too often I get stories from people who list a litany of previous publications that I've never heard of. Not that I need to, but when they make them sound like I should it just makes them sound arrogant. Which is not a good thing.

(6) Gee, thanks so much. Loser.

(7) Friends, lovers, Significant Others and so forth -- who cares?

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