Modern Worship

 

Coffee Time Romance Likes "My Love Of All That Is Bizarre: The Erotic Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes"

Here's a big congratulations to all the wonderful authors in my anthology My Love Of All That Is Bizarre: The Erotic Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes - a fantastic review by Lototy for Coffe Time Romance!

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.

More of my own photos

More of my own photos

More of my own photos

More of my own photos

Just Wanted To Say -

- 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!

The Few - The Proud

DJ? Acucrack - So To Speak

Acceler8or.com Likes Finger's Breadth

Wow - and I mean wow - this is very, very cool: the great Sasha Mitchell over at R.U. Sirius's site Acceler8or.com just posted this very cool review of my dark gay thriller Finger's Breadth. Here's a tease:

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. 

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Yet More Philosophy

 

Girl, You’re So Weird

You Work In Print Media?

World Builder

A Blast At The Crucible

My bro, s.a., and I went to the open house at The Crucible - where I caught this literal blast

Amen!

Philosophy

 

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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Portrait Of The Author

 

Here, Here!

My Desk

This is fun: the great folks at Novelspot asked for a pic of my workspace - so, naturally, I had to share.  The stained glass window, by the way, was created by my late father...

- You Might Go Blind

I took this shot while in Walnut Creek ... just a wee bit suggestive, doncha think?

The Moving Finger - On Lisabet Sarai's Beyond Romance Blog

This is extremely excellent: my pal (and a wonderful write) Lisabet Sarai asked me to write a bit about the inspiration behind Finger's Breadth for her Beyond Romance blog.  Check it out here ... and, meanwhile, here's a tease:

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,Moves on; nor all your Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a Line,Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. -- The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 

I may have said this before but it's always worth repeating: here's a hearty thank you to Lisabet for the opportunity to write a little piece for her excellent blog. 

This time, Lisabet has asked me to write a bit about the how my newest novel, Finger's Breadth, came to be. 

In a nutshell, Finger's Breadth is ... well, maybe too weird for a nutshell (perhaps even too much for a coconut shell) but I'll give it a shot. Basically, it's a near-future gay erotic horror/thriller with a hefty dose of social commentary. Less-than-basically, it's a series of characters dealing with "the cutter:" the nickname given to a mysterious figure drugging random men and amputating the first digit of their little finger. 

I told you it was weird. 

In many ways I see Finger's Breadth as a thematic sequel to my previous novel,Me2. In that book I had a lot of fun playing with the idea of identity. Less-than-basically that because of peer pressure, mass-produced lifestyles and fantasies, we are all becoming more or less interchangeable. 

I say "thematic sequel" because after writing Me2 I was itching to challenge myself with a new project – one that allowed me to explore human nature again. With Finger's Breadth, I tried to reach down even deeper and get even dirtier with how we relate to one another: socially, sexually, you name it.

The seeds that would eventually sprout become Finger's Breadth came from a wide variety of sources – or threads that would become the quilt if you don't like plant metaphors – but, botany or fabric, they have more in common than you might think. One of them came from my fascination good versus evil. Yeah, yeah, I know: lots of people have done – and will do – the exact same thing. But I've always been frustrated at how cowardly a lot of authors have been on the subject -- cowardly, because very few people seem to be willing to honestly look at the question. 

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How To Wonderfully WriteSex (16)

Check it out: my new post at the fantastic WriteSex site just went up. Here's a tease (for the rest you'll have to go to the site):

Like bestiality—and unlike underage sexuality—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 “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 world is shattered (and expanded) by some rough S/M play. 

As with any of the “sins,” a story that deals with incest in a thought- provoking or sideways humorous manner might not scream at an editor or publisher I’M AN INCEST STORY. Instead, it will come across as humorous or thought-provoking first, and as a tale 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 the theme. 

Unlike bestiality, incest 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: immediate family relations are damned tough to deal with, but first cousins fooling around behind the barn are quite another. 

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Fingers And Gothic.net

And the crazy publicity spreads: the cool folks at Gothic.net just posted this cool thing about my (ahem) 'unique' approach to getting the word out about Finger's Breadth:

Author M. Christian, upon seeking publicity for his newest novel, “Finger’s Breadth”, has threatened to cut off the tip of his little finger. This idea goes in line with the books character that does a similar fashion of chopping in a futuristic noir San Francisco world. Acknowledging how tough it is to spread the word about new books, Christian readily admits that this is a public relations stunt. His theory is that it takes someone to think outside of the box in order to garner the attention it requires for the novel to reach a wider audience. Christian has an impressive list of accomplishments, including six novels, over four hundred short stories, nine author collections, editing twenty-five anthologies, and being a contributor to Gothic.net. “Finger’s Breadth”, published by Zumaya Publications, is a gay erotic science fiction horror thriller. More of an intense psychological ride, the novel serves to dissect human nature rather than to deliver surface scares. So far he still has all of his digits, but who knows what will happen in time.

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Amen!

A Must Read: Doonesbury

Yet More Philosophy

I'll Be At Fogcon

If you happen to be in Walnut Creek towards the end of March I'll be attending Fogcon, the Bay Area SF con, and being on several panels and such - including a (ahem) x-rated reading on Saturday night with other Sizzler Editions authors.

Stay Curious

M.Christian Teaches!

If you live in the San Francisco Bay Area, here's not one, not two, but THREE chances to attend one of my celebrated classes!

Magic Words: Using Erotic Writing To Explore Your Hidden Sexuality And Spirituality

Tuesday, March 27, 2012, 07:30pm
$15-30 sliding scale
Center For Sex And Culture
1349 Mission Street (at Grace Street between 9th and 10th streets) in San Francisco

There are many ways to reach your inner sexual and spiritual self -- but one of the most surprisingly powerful paths is through the written word. In this lecture/workshop, participants will hear how erotic writing (fiction as well non-fiction) can reach hidden places that often lay unexposed, help make personal discoveries and to assist in a personal journey of self and sensuality. Participants will learn how to free their erotic writing voices, how to develop their writing towards discovering their erotic spirits within, and when to silence -- and when to listen -- to the inner critic.

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Sex Sells: How To Write & Sell Erotica

Tuesday, April 24, 2012, 07:30pm
$15-30 sliding scale
Center For Sex And Culture
1349 Mission Street (at Grace Street between 9th and 10th streets) in San Francisco

The market for erotic fiction and nonfiction is booming! There actually is a secret to writing great erotica - and you'll discover just what that is in this fun, hands-on workshop with well-known erotica writer and teacher M. Christian.

For the beginning writer, erotica can be the ideal place to begin writing, getting published, and -- best of all -- earning money. And for the experienced writer, erotica can be an excellent way to beef up your resume and hone your writing skills. M. Christian will review the varieties of personal and literary expression possible in this exciting and expanding field. He'll also teach you techniques for creating love and sex scenes that sizzle.

Plus: current pay rates, how to write for a wide variety of erotic genres, where and how to submit your erotic writing, and more.

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Sex Magic: Manifesting Positive Life Energy Through Erotic Play


Thursday, April 26, 2012 · 7:00 PM – 9:00 PM
$20 Non-Members, $15 Members (smOdyssey, Inc.)
Private Location in San Jose

RSVP To Education@smOdyssey.com

Sex, without a doubt, is a powerful personal force: it has the ability to not only give tremendous pleasure but also lift us up beyond our normal selves, and sometimes even to higher states of consciousness. Whether through sex with a partner or via masturbation, this class will explore how sex can be used to explore sometimes hidden spiritual and sensual dimensions, grow as a sexual being, manifest positive life-changing energy, or simply have a lot of wonderfully erotic fun!

But sex also has its emotional risks as well, and participants will also learn how to protect themselves as they explore sex magic and deal with sometimes shocking revelations about who they are as a sexual being.

Future Fire Likes Finger's Breadth

(Happy dance) Here's something very cool: a nice review for my gay sexual thriller Finger's Breadth by the fantastic folks at Future's Fire.  Here's a tease:

M. Christian is well-known for his erotic stories, as well as editing several erotic anthologies, so I wasn’t surprised to find that his newest novel, Finger’s Breadth, was pretty explicit. This is not a book to read if you are easily offended. Published by Zumaya Boundless, the gay, lesbian, bisexual or transsexual-themed imprint of Zumaya Publications, which has been putting out both e-books and print since 2001. 

Finger’s Breadth takes place in San Francisco in the near future—someone is drugging random gay men and cutting off the tip of their little finger. The gay bars in the area are almost empty; men are staying home, scared it might happen to them. The police are baffled; there are no suspects. The first victim, Varney, works for the newspaper and becomes a celebrity of sorts. But his celebrity isn’t exactly earned, and this is eating Varney up inside. He debates with himself whether to confess his sin while still using his infamy to reach out to the public. 

Then a gradual change comes over the gay population—those who have been cut are looked at as desirable, exciting. Those who have not been cut now begin to feel left out, even ashamed—aren’t they good enough to be approached by the cutter? Are they unattractive? The bars fill up again; the patrons divided between victims and wanna-bes. It’s rarely said aloud, but those men who are whole are hoping to be the next victim. The internet burns with men in chatrooms, looking for the cutter or a reasonable facsimile. Although the story is seen through the eyes of several characters, quite a bit of the book is written in chatroom format, with the cutter—or supposed cutter—looking for victims. 

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Amazon Update

Just a quickie post that I have finally updated my amazon author profile (which is here) and a partial list of my books (which is here) as amazon only let's me put up 40 books in a list

Where Do Your Ideas Come From?

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: "Hey There, Big Boy--"

Check this out: I just wrote a neat little "Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker" for the great Erotica Readers & Writers site about publicity and the lengths that (ahem) 'certain' writers may go for it - and not just me.  Here's a tease - for the rest just check here.

Oh, dear, I've done it again.  

You'd think would have learned my lesson – what with the fallout over the whole Me2 "plagiarism" thing – but I guess not.  

Just in case you may have missed it, I have a new book out, called Finger's Breadth.  As the book is a "sexy gay science fiction thriller" about queer men losing bits of their digits – though, of course, there's a lot more to the novel than that.  

Anyhow, I thought it would be fun to create another bout ofcrazy publicity by claiming that I would be lopping off one of my own fingersto get the word out about it.  

Naturally, this has caused a bit of a fuss – which got me to thinking, and this thinking got me here: to a brand new Streetwalker about publicity ... and pushing the envelope. 

The world of writing has completely, totally, changed – and what's worse it seems to keep changing, day-by-day if not hour-by-hour.  It seems like just this morning that publishing a book was the hard part of the writing life, with publicity being a necessary but secondary evil.  But not any more: ebooks and the fall of the empire of publishing have flipped the apple cart over: it's now publishing is easy and publicity is the hard part ... the very hard part. 

What's made it even worse is that everyone has a solution:  you should be on Facebook, you should be on Twitter, you should be on Goodreads, you should be on Red Room, you should be on Google+, you should be doing blog tours, you should be ... well, you get the point.  

The problem with a lot of these so-called solutions is that they are far too often like financial advice ... and the old joke about financial advice is still true: the only successful people are the ones telling you how to be successful. 

That's not to say that you should put your fingers in your ears and hum real loudly: while you shouldn't try everything in regards to marketing doing absolutely nothing is a lot worse.

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Who Is This Guy?

This is wonderfully, glorious, WEIRD: I just stumbled across this Tumblr post of a picture from Flickr.  But guess who mchristianzobop is?  Oh, and the picture is STILL my iPhone wallpaper ;-)




patronsaintofgelflings:

nomad002 (by mchristianzobop)

God Bless America!

 

Timothy Leary's NOT Dead

“Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?””

- Timothy Leary

Love ya, Oscar

Tease Of "Speaking Parts" From Rude Mechanicals

Just 'cause, here's the teasing opening from my cybersex tale, "Speaking Parts" that's featured in my mechanically themed collection, Rude Mechanicals.  Enjoy!

Pell remembered seeing Arc’s eye—it was the first thing she’d noticed.

Tourmaline and onyx. Silver and gold. A masterpiece watch set in a crystal sphere, the iris a mandala of glowing gold. Her blinks were a camera shutter’s, as imagined by the archetypal Victorian engineer but built by surgical perfection not found anywhere in Pell’s knowledge. The woman’s left eye was jeweled and precise, clicking softly as the woman looked around the gallery, as if the engineers who’d removed her original wet, gray-lensed ball had orchestrated a kind of music to go with their marvelous creation: a background tempo of perfect watch movements to accompany whatever she saw through their marvelous and finely crafted sight. Click, click, click.

An eye like that should have been in a museum, not mounted in a socket of simple human skin and bone, Pell had thought. It should have been in some other gallery, some better gallery, allowed only to look out at, to see other magnificent creations of skilled hands. Jare’s splashes of reds and blues, his shallow paintings were an insult to the real artistry of the woman’s eye.

That’s what Pell thought, at first, seeing Arc – but only seeing Arc’s perfect, mechanical eye.

Pell didn’t like to remember first seeing her that way – through the technology in her face. But it felt, to her, like it had its own kind of ironic perfection to deny it. So Pell lived with the biting truth that she didn’t, at first, see Arc – for her eye.

But later, right after she got momentarily lost in the beauty of Arc’s implant, the woman looked at Pell with her real eye, the gray, penetrating right one – and Pell forgot about the tourmaline, onyx, silver and gold machine.

She had finally seen Arc, herself – the woman, and not the simple, mechanical part. Next to her, the eye was cheap junk: a collection of metal, old rocks, and wires.

* * * *

She wasn’t Arc at first. She began as just the woman with the perfectly created eye. Then she was the beautiful woman. Then she was the woman where she didn’t belong. Seeing her eye, then seeing her, Pell lastly saw her as oil, the kind of oil you’d see pooling in the street, that had somehow managed to make its way into a glass of wine. Agreed, it was cheap red wine – something out of a box and not even a bottle, but, still – she was oil. She didn’t belong and that was obvious, despite the cheapness of the gallery. She could tell, cataloging her bashed and scuffed boots, noting her threadbare jeans, her torn T-shirt, that amid clean jeans and washed (and too black) turtlenecks, she was a discordant tone among the harmonious poseurs in Jare’s tiny South of Market studio.

The woman was aware of her discrepancy. She wandered the tiny gallery with a very large plastic tumbler of vin very ordinare, stopping only once in a while to look at one of Jare’s paintings.

Holding her wine tight enough to gently fracture the cheap plastic with cloudy stress lines, Pell watched her, stared at the tall – all legs and angles, broad and strong – woman with the artificial eye. She tried not to watch her too closely or too intently, sure that if she let slip her fascination she’d scare her off – or worse, bring on an indifferent examination of Pell. Through a sad ballet of a slightly curved lip and a stare that was nothing more than a glance of the eyes, the woman would see Pell but wouldn’t – and that would be an icy needle in Pell’s heart.

Pell had already taken too many risks that night. She already felt like she’d stepped off the edge and had yet to hit the hard reality of the ground. Traps and tigers, beasts and pitfalls for the unwary loomed all around Pell. She moved through her days with a careful caution, delicately testing the ice in front of her, wary of almost-invisible, murky lines of fault. She knew they were there, she’d felt the sudden falling of knowing she’d stepped too far, moved too quickly, over something that had proven, by intent or accident, not to be there. Pell didn’t push on the surface, didn’t put all her weight, or herself, on anything.

But then everything changed. She’d seen Arc and her eye.

The plastic cup chimed once, then collapsed in on itself. Turning first into a squashed oval, the glass cracked, splintered, then folded, the white seams of stress turning into sharp fissures of breakage. The red, freed of its cheap plastic prison, tumbled, cascaded out and down onto  her.

Pell had worn something she knew wouldn’t fit with the rest of the crowd. The official color of San Francisco, she knew, would fill the place with charcoal and soot, midnight and ebony.  White, she’d decided, would pull some of their eyes to her, make her stand out – absence of color being alone in a room full of people dressed in all colors, combined.

"Looks good on you."

The shock of the wine on her white blouse tumbled through Pell as an avalanche of warmth flowed to her face. The decision to wear white that night had come from a different part of herself, a part that had surprised her. Now she was furiously chastising that tiny voice, that fashion terrorist who had chosen the blouse over other, blacker ones.

And so Pell responded, "Not as good as you would" to the tall, leggy, broad shouldered girl with the artificial eye. Which was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the rest of her.

* * * *

Pell’s reason for being at the gallery was Jare. Although she could never wrap her perceptions around the gaunt boy’s paintings, she still came when he asked. Jare, Pell, Fallon, Rasp and Jest. They weren’t close – but then foxhole buddies aren’t always. They weren’t in combat, but they could be. All it would take would be one computer talking to another – no stable job history, thus conscription.

All it took were two computers, passing pieces of information back and forth. Till that happened, they hid and watched the possibility of a real foxhole death in a hot, sweaty part of Central America fly by.

Foxhole buddies. It was Jare’s term – some fleck of trivia that’d hung around him. They didn’t have an official name for their tiny society of slowly (and in some cases not too slowly) starving artists, but Pell was sure that Jare would smile at his trivial term being immortalized among a band of too-mortal kids.

That was Jare. While the rest of them tried to focus on pulling their paintings (Pell, Jare, and Rasp), music (Jest), and sculpture (Fallon) as high as they could, there was something else about Jare – something, like his paintings, that refused to be understood. His techniques were simple enough, broad strokes of brilliant color on soot-black canvas, but his reasons were more convoluted.

Or maybe, Pell had thought earlier that evening (before turning a white blouse red and seeing the woman with the artificial eye for the first time) both man and his work were simple: broad, bold statements designed to do nothing but catch attention. He was like his paintings, a grab for any kind of attention – an explanation too simple to be easily seen.

In the tiny bathroom, Pell tried to get the wine out of her blouse. Contradictory old wives’ tails: first she tried cold, then hot water. The sink ran pink and so, soon, did her blouse.

The woman with the eye stood outside the door, a surprisingly subtle smile on her large mouth. Every once and a while she’d say something, as if throwing a bantering line to the shy girl inside to keep her from drowning in embarrassment.

"Who’s he foolin? I can do better crap than this with a brush up my ass.”

"You should see this chick’s dress. Looks like her momma’s – and momma didn’t know how to dress, either.”

"Too many earrings, faggot. What year do you think this is?

"Hey, girl. Get out here with that shirt. It’s better looking than this fucking stuff on the walls."

Cold water on her hands, wine spiraling down the sink. Distantly, Pell was aware that her nipples were hard and tight – and not from the chill water. Down deep and inside, she was wet. It was a basic kind of primal moisture, one that comes even in the burning heat of humiliation. Finally, the blouse was less red than before. Planning to run to where she’d dropped her old leather coat to hide the stigmata of her clumsiness, her excitement in two hard brown points, she opened the door.

The tall woman smiled down at her, hot and strong. In one quick sweep of her eyes, Pell drank her tall length, strong shoulders, columnar legs. She was trapped, held fast between the hot eyes she knew must have been staring at her, pinning her straight to her embarrassment, and the presence of the woman.

Her eye, the eye, clicked a quick chime of precision – as if expanding its limits to encompass the totality of Pell. Pell did not mind her intense examination. It added, with a rush of feelings, to the quaking in her belly, the weakness in her knees.

"Gotta splash. Wait right here,” Arc said.

Of course she waited.

After a few hammering heartbeats, the door opened and she came out – butchly tucking her T-shirt back into her jeans – and Pell was again at the focus of her meticulously designed sight.

"You live anywhere close? I’m tired of this shit. You?"

"Down the block. Just on the corner," Pell said, trying hard not to smile too much.

The woman downed the small sample of red in her glass and, looking for a place to put it down, and not finding any, just dropped it with a sharp plastic clatter on the floor. "Show me.  It can’t be worse than here. Too many fucking artists."

Always Remember

They Are Coming -

Win A Copy Of Finger's Breadth!

Great news, folks!  If you want to win an autographed copy of Finger's Breadth here's your chance - compliments of the wonderful Marlena's Teaching Fund Bid for Compassion for Nonviolent Communication Classes for People with Chronic Illness & Disability.  

M. Christian, an acknowledged master of erotica, editor of 25 anthologies and author of multiple novels and short story collections is donating a personally autographed copy of his latest novel, Finger's Breadth. 

An erotic thriller, this dark emotional thriller that reviewers say "will take the reader on a scary but enlightening ride through the twisted labyrinth of the human psyche" and will "get under your skin and send chills to your bones in both a terrifying and arousing kind of way."
M. Christian will sign it personally for the winner. (ebook is available if preferred.)
This item comes from a smoke-free environment. 

Retail Value: $15.99. Minimum starting bid: $10.  

There are NO geographical restrictions on this item; we will accept bids from anywhere in the world!

Look at your hand: four fingers and a thumb, right? But what if you woke one morning and rather than four fingers and a thumb you are ... short? How would you feel? What would you do? What would you become? 

The city is terrified: a mysterious figure is haunting the streets of near-future San Francisco, drugging and amputating the fingertips of queer men. But what's worse … this terror or that it can, so easily, turn any of us into something even more horrific? 

Erotic. Nightmarish. Fascinating. Disturbing. Intriguing. Haunting. You have never read a book like Finger's Breadth. You will never look your fingers -- or the people all around you -- the same way again. 

Yet More Philosophy

“The one who follows the crowd will usually get no further than the crowd. The one who walks alone is likely to find himself in places no one has ever been.”
- Albert Einstein

Treasure Island Redux

Remember my previous post about a great photo expedition to Treasure Island?  Well my brother, s.a., just put his own pics up about the trip.  Here are a few - and for the rest check out his Tumblr feed.  Enjoy!

"The whole problem with the world - "

“The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser men so full of doubts.”

- Bertrand Russell

So True

Beyond Romance And I -

Very cool: check out Lisabet Sarai's fantastic Beyond Romance blog where I have a little article up called "In Praise Of Passion" (and a complete erotic story) as part of my Coming Together Presents M.Christian collection - where all the proceeds go straight to Planned Parenthood.  Here's a tease:

I've been thinking about passion a lot lately. 

Not a shocker, I know, for someone who – shall we say – has been swimming in a literary pornographic pool for quite a bit of time. But, bear with me, this pondering on my part may be worth your time. 

Passion, in this case, has a lot to do with writing – but not necessarily about sex writing. Sure, I've written more than my fair share of bow-chicka-wow-wow fiction [see bio at the end of this] but having a passion for writing has zero to do with writing about ... well, passion. 

Maybe it's where I've found myself but I'm concerned about passionate writing – not on my part, per se, but in lots of other places. 

This all came to find when I put together my own humble contribution to the Coming Together project: Coming Together Presents M. Christian. Reading over all of the stories that make up the book – proceeds from, by the way, go straight to Planned Parenthood – I had a very odd feeling of ... coolness. 

It's not that I'm not proud of what I write – far from it: in fact, many of the stories in my own collection for Coming Together I really consider to be my best. It's just that looking backwards at anything, let alone my writing, has never had any great allure. Every blue moon someone asks me to name my favorite story and, to be honest, I am totally flummoxed – usually resorting to the cliché, though very true in my case, "the one I haven't written yet." 

[MORE] 

Yet More Philosophy

AMPUTATION AND NOVEL PUBLICITY: AUTHOR M. CHRISTIAN THREATENS ONE FOR THE OTHER

PRESS RELEASE: In what is clearly an act of pure desperation, author M. Christian has threatened to amputate part of one finger to publicize his new novel, Finger's Breadth (Zumaya Books).

"The fact is, it's getting harder and harder to get the word out about anything new, especially novels," says M. Christian, whose biography includes over 400 short story sales, nine author collections, the editing of 25 anthologies, and six previous novels.  "Is it no surprise that writers are having to resort to obvious stunts to try and get their work noticed?"

Though Finger's Breadth – described as a gay erotic science fiction horror thriller – has garnered respectable reviews, Christian says that it has yet to gain the notoriety he believes it deserves.

"Even with Zee at Firepages saying 'Finger's Breadth has a way of getting under your skin and sending chills to your bones in both a terrifying and arousing kind of way. Finger's Breadth is not a story; it is an experience I highly recommend,' it's been too damned hard to get word out about the book.

Christian points out other reviewers who, apparently, have also found the book to be superb: "I've got Lisabet Sarai, who says 'If you're looking for an easy, sunny, sexy book with a happy ending, don't pick up Finger's Breadth. If, on the other hand, you want a scary but enlightening ride through the twisted labyrinth of the human psyche, I highly recommend this book,' and the Circlet Press calling it '...one of the most psychologically astute erotic novels since Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs, and it deserves to be just as widely read,' and even science fiction author Ernest Hogan, who calls it 'a world of crime, out-of-control passions, mutilation, and madness. Terms like noir and hardboiled don't quite fit – this is more like ultraviolet, the invisible light that makes the scorpions glow in the dark.'"

 M. Christian, with fingers intact – so far (photo by Shilo McCabe)

As for what the novel is actually about, Christian says that the book's description as erotic, nightmarish, fascinating, disturbing, intriguing, haunting, you have never read a book like Finger's Breadth is actually pretty accurate – if a little vague: "There are far too many scary books and movies about serial killers, psychos, nasty supernatural forces ... but all of that, to me, is just too removed.  It's far too easy to be able to say it's a matter of them – or him – and us: but the real horror I've always felt, and tried to explore in Finger's Breadth is that the real horror is human nature itself.  That, given the right set of circumstances, otherwise good people can have their minds, and most of all their desires, turned inside out."

And so to try and get the word out about what he feels to be his best novel yet, the reclusive author says that he is willing to step into the light with his most audacious publicity plan ever: to lop off one of his own fingertips

"Okay, my track record for honesty isn't the best ... I'm the first to admit that," Christian says about his planned amputation.  "The whole 'stolen identity' campaign around Me2 [his previous novel] was lost on more than a few people.  Never mind that it worked and the book sold like hotcakes.  But this time I'm totally, completely, absolutely, honest: I really want people to read Finger's Breadth ... and if it takes lopping off the tip of my little finger then I'm gonna do it," he says.

When asked if the planned amputation is simply a publicity stunt, Christian responded with faux outrage: "A stunt?  A STUNT?!  Of course it's a publicity stunt ... these days writers have to be creative and, let's be honest here, more than a bit outrageous if they are going to get noticed.  The book's about a mysterious figure cutting off the tips of little fingers in a near-future noir San Francisco so a pretend self-amputation is just too damned perfect!"

In answer to his admission that the whole thing is nothing but a publicity-seeking prank, Christian shook his head: "That's not to say that it still won't happen; they say that a good writer has at least a few good books in them, so if a finger is all it takes to get the word out about this novel ... well, I have 19 more fingers and toes to go.  Seems like a small price to pay."

M. Christian can be reached at zobop@aol.com or mchristianzobop@gmail.com.  His website is http://www.mchristian.com

To receive a review copy of Finger's Breadth send an email to publicity@zumayapublications.com.

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More Finger's Breadth reviews:

It is not that hard to come up with an idea that can be turned into a horror story and that is why horror has been part of the folklore of America and why these stories are so popular on camp-outs as we sit around a campfire. To successfully do this, we need a combination of characters and plot but more important than all else is a novel way to relate the story. For me that is the definition of M. Christian. This book is unlike anything I have read before and I suspect that it will stay with me for quite a while. 

– Amos Lassen, reviewer

Finger's Breadth creates a vivid portrait of a community torn apart by suspicion, where the thrills of hot, anonymous sex go hand in mutilated hand with the chill of fear, and no one is entirely what they seem. M. Christian skillfully mixes a dark, potent cocktail of lust, longing, paranoia and an overwhelming need for acceptance... 

– Liz Coldwell, author of Take Your Slave To Work

To be effective, the act of literary intercourse between horror and erotica should be deeply unsettling. It should leave the reader feeling uncomfortable, overwhelmed by equal parts dread and anticipation. M. Christian understands this better than most, weaving a tale that permits the reader but a finger’s breadth of space between fear and arousal. His deft control of the story makes us feel the blade, but it's his subtle manipulation of our emotions that makes us want the cut. 

– Sally Sapphire, Bellasbookslut

M. Christian has seen the future – and it is hardboiled! If you love crime stories – gay or otherwise – and you love science fiction, you will love Finger's Breadth. No other storyteller nails it quite like M. Christian does. This is a real page turner. 

– Marilyn Jaye Lewis, author of Freak Parade

M. Christian is a force to be reckoned with. Just when you think you understand the path that his narrative and characters are taking, Christian throws a monkey wrench, or a limb, or a head into the works and you have to get your bearings and start all over again. No matter which book of his you pick up, prepare for an intoxicatedly weird ride. 

– Ily Goyanes, author and filmmaker

Finger's Breadth is mesmeric storytelling, riveting in execution and appalling in implication.  M. Christian’s tale of erotic terror in a near-future San Francisco is imagined so skillfully that it grabs the reader with its easy familiarity, then refuses to let go as it careens to its shocking yet completely believable conclusion.  Evoking such Grand Masters as Armistead Maupin, Thomas Harris and Rod Serling while remaining strikingly original, Finger's Breadth is Christian at the height of his considerable powers.  Like Charon the ferryman, the author takes the reader down the dark rivers of human sexuality and shows us things that would normally never see the light of day.  Ultimately the most compelling aspect of this fiction is how fascinatingly and terrifyingly plausible it is. Finger's Breadth should come with a warning label: Read this before clubbing. 

– Christopher Pierce, author of Rogue Slave, Rogue Hunted, and Kidnapped By A Sex Maniac

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M. Christian is – among many things – an acknowledged master of erotica with more than 400 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and many, many other anthologies, magazines, and Web sites.

He is the editor of 25 anthologies including the Best S/M Erotica series, Pirate Booty, My Love For All That Is Bizarre: Sherlock Holmes Erotica, The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, The Mammoth Book of Future Cops and The Mammoth Book of Tales of the Road (with Maxim Jakubowksi) and Confessions, Garden of Perverse, and Amazons (with Sage Vivant) as well as many others.

He is the author of the collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, Licks & Promises, Filthy, Love Without Gun Control, Rude Mechanicals, Technorotica, Coming Together Presents M. Christian, Pornotopia, How To Write And Sell Erotica; and the novels Running Dry, The Very Bloody Marys, Me2, Brushes, Fingers Breadth, and Painted Doll.  His site is http://www.mchristian.com.

Fingers Breadth

Zumaya Books

Paperback: $15.99

ebook: $6.99

ISBN-10: 1934841463

ISBN-13: 978-1934841464