Here’s a bit of fun I wrote a looooong time ago … hope you like!

How Much?

The Editor sends the story back, No one comes like this. It’s obvious she’s faking it and I realize he’s right: she was faking it.

#

The Director leans in, hot lights burning my legs: Just can’t get the lighting right, your cock still looks too small. I frown, thinking of all the wankers from San Francisco to Boston feeling good that the stud in their whack-off vid is smaller than they are for once.

#

She never calls me back. Six months later, I run into her on the street. I read that story you wrote for Warped Perverts, she says, scanning for a quick escape route. It scared me. 

#

The Photographer tells me to smile, damn it, smile as I lift my leg into yet another impossible position. I miss the gallery opening because of a cramp so bad I can’t get out of bed.

#

Losing my virginity gets published in a book called Cherry Bombed about horrible, embarrassing, first times. I am supposed to get paid $15 and two copies. The check bounces and the book never appears.

#

I can’t sleep for three nights running, the plot of Truck Stop Tranps bogged down in a morass of motivation, character development, and a flawed narrative. I almost miss the deadline, and waste five bucks on Fed Ex changes getting it to the editor in time. When the magazine comes out, I see that he completely butchered the ending, losing the wonderful sense of pathos I had so carefully worked into it. Then I lose four more nights of sleep, shocked wide awake that I actually cared.

#

Where do you get your ideas? she asks in a breathy voice tinged with a boiling horniness as she strokes my cock. I can barely get hard, most of my brain being diverted by my thoughts of she stroked him like a fireman cleaning his pole: diligently, professionally — as if trying to work a gleam out of it…

#

My spell-checker has grown unwieldy from the words I have stuffed in its tight, resistant, pulsing, memory: cocksucker, cunt, mons, asshole, pubes, motherfucker, testicles, dildo, lube, S/M, she-male, latex, jerk-off, cunnilingus, felatio, flagellation, flogger, Saran Wrap, cunt-licker, assfucker, and on and on and on, etc., etc. I run it through a letter to my landlord and broken mail slot becomes she-male slut. Now he looks at me funny and the damned thing never gets fixed.

#

The party is full-swing and banging away: in the sling, guy fists guy – foaming Crisco plopping to the floor. In one corner two dykes are taking turns kicking each other in the butt. Over there a latex dom is turning her slave’s ass into maximus tar-tar. Next to me a grinning piercer expertly punctures some guy’s dick, then feeds steel rings through the holes — and all I can think is poor plot development, crappy characterization, no motivation…

#

She’s a fan. I’ve read everything you’ve ever written, she says. Jerked off to all of them. Talked other playmates into even reenacting some. Raves about me all the time. Box Lunch, Sailors At Sea, Yeeha!, The Bang Gang, TV Repairman … her favorites each and every one. I take my pants off and she’s disappointed. We fuck and she’s disappointed. We each come and she’s disappointed. I tell her: don’t get any rewrites in life, sweetie.

#

The book, magazine, movie comes out. I burst with enthusiasm: I did this, I did this! I become annoying, showing it everyone. Then someone also bursts, and shows it to my mother…

#

Am asked to write about the most degrading, insulting, humiliating, sex act you can imagine and the first thing that comes to mind and out of my mouth is How much?

It’s one of the most common questions I get asked – by budding writers via email or in person during one of my (ahem) Sex Sells: Erotica Writing classes: what makes an erotic story …erotic?

But before I answer [insert suspenseful music here] a bit of exposition is in order: there is ahuge difference in writing for yourself, such as when you are first dipping your … toes into erotica writing, and when you’ve made the very brave decision to throw your work out into the professional world.

If you are writing for yourself then you really don’t need to be thinking about sex (or the amount of it) at all: you’re writing for your pleasure, or just as practice.

But if you do decide to send your work out you really do need to be pay close attention to where you’re submitting: when a publisher or editor puts out a call for submissions they are often – or should be – quite clear about the amount of sexuality they need or want from a writer.  If you’re sending a story, say, to a site, anthology or whatever it’s always a good idea to scope out the territory, so to speak: read what the editor has accepted before, take a gander at the site … and so forth.  That, at least, should give you a ballpark feeling of what (and how much) they are looking for.

But [insert dramatic drum roll] as far as the right, perfect, ideal, amount of sex for a story that isn’t just for your own pleasure, or a very specific market, goes … well, what’s sex?

Far too often beginning (or even seasoned pros) have the idea that there’s a required amount of sex, of detail, of activity, that makes a story erotic: they occassionally even have a percentage guide – or a shopping list of required activities (oral followed by penetration culminated by mutual orgasm, etc). 

There’s also the belief that unless a story arouses them – or a publisher, editor, random reader, whoever – then it isn’t sufficiently erotic … and so needs more sex.

But both of these views are, frankly, wrong.  Erotica can be a remarkably flexible genre: it can be about anything to do with sex, sensuality, eroticism, whatever … there isn’t a set rule of amount or variety of sex that has to take place. 

I’ve sold (as a writer) and bought (as both an anthology editor as well as a book publisher), work that has a wide range of both quantity as well as assortment of sex and sensuality – though, once again, unless the project is upfront about requiring a certain kind, or amount, of sexuality.

And as for turning anyone on, I always remind people that there is absolutely no way to know what will turn anyone on – so it’s impossible to judge the amount of sex in a story by anyone’s (not to be sexist) Peter Meter.  Once again, as a writer I’ve sold, and as an editor and publisher I’ve bought, many stories that I personally wasn’t aroused by – and many writers and editors feel the same way.

So … sex.  What I meant by what’s sex is that sex can be a lot of things to a lot of people.  The erotic content in a story or book can be page after page of bumpy-grindy or lyrically sensual where actual penetrative sex (of any kind) never actually takes place.  Sex can be fantasy, without any reality.  It can be sense memory.  It can be masturbation.  It can be pleasure from extreme sensation.  It can even be bittersweet, disturbing, or even sad. 

Sex, in short, can be anything.  Speaking as a writer, I love to play with what sex can be about – often trying to really push the literary envelope.  Speaking as a publisher, I love it when a book or story crosses my path that says something – that really plays with the idea of what sex can be in a new and surprising way.

Erotica, to wrap it up, can be anything (caveats for specialized markets, of course).  There is no magic formula for amount or activity, arousal is no judge of quality or quantity: your erotic writing playground is as vast as your imagination–

–as vast as sex itself.  

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.

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.

You’ve seen them everywhere on the web: Amazon, Netflix, the Internet Movie Database – and too many more to name. They are usually called different things depending on the site, but each and every one boils down the same thing: the chance for some ignorant yahoo to express his or her American Right of Free Speech. “Reader Reviews,” “Featured Member Reviews,” or “Customer Reviews,” call them what you will but I always think – or even say – the same thing when I see them: Shut Up!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, creating anything is damned hard work. Movies, books, plays, music, painting – anything. It takes determination, lots of failures, facing a lot of personal demons, and a hellava lot of other icky stuff just to make something out of nothing, let alone send it out there into the world. What needlessly makes it harder is when that work is splattered by some unenlightened pinhead who feels that because they CAN say something nasty, they SHOULD.

Sour grapes? You betcha. But believe it or not, this isn’t about anything I’ve written. Instead, this rant is about the reviews I’ve seen for what I thought where thoroughly excellent movies, books or what have you – demeaned if not ruined by droolers who can’t wait to show off their ‘smarts’ by trashing something that took an author, painter, musician or movie crew years to create. Oh, yes, I’ve heard it all before: the sacredness of Free Speech, the Web as “the great equalizer,” the chance for the “little guy” to be heard. I’m all for intelligent discussions and thoughtful criticism but if you can’t be intelligent, can’t manage thoughtful then keep your gob shut.

What does this have to do with writing? Well, aside from perhaps putting a dollop of empathy in those of you out there who like to post bad reader reviews, this is also about how to give good criticism.

Too often writers work in the dark, meaning they have absolutely no idea if their work is any good. They show it to mothers, fathers, boyfriends, girlfriends and so forth who obviously are not going to say anything but “fantastic, honey!” The only other option is to find a writer’s group, a bunch of folks who share the same goal: to write as well as they can. The problem is, writer’s groups way too often catch the same pitiful disease that infects Reader’s Review posters. Straight up insults or what are thought to be ‘witty’ jokes fly, personal tastes get in the way, jealousy clouds respect, “old hands” turn into “old crows,” and people get hurt for no good reason.

Rule of Thumb for Giving Good Criticism #1: Don’t give criticism that you wouldn’t like to get. Think before telling or writing anything about another writer. Put yourself in their shoes – especially if it’s someone just starting out. Would you like to hear that your story “sucked?” Of course not, so don’t say it.

Rule of Thumb for Giving Good Criticism #2: Don’t be “funny.” Make jokes on your own time, not at the expense of someone else. Criticism is not your stage; it’s talking about someone else’s. If you want applause, get up there on the stage yourself. Otherwise see the title of this column.

Rule of Thumb for Giving Good Criticism #3: Give as well as take. Never give a completely bad review of someone else’s work. A lot of things go into a story: plot, characterizations, dialogue, descriptions, pacing, – it all can’t be bad. I’ve very often hated a film (for example) but loved the soundtrack, one special actor, the dialogue in one scene, whatever. Leave the author something that they did well, even if it was just that the paper was clean.

Rule of Thumb for Giving Good Criticism #4: This story wasn’t written for you. The fact that the story didn’t turn you on is your problem, not the author’s. I can’t say this enough. If you hate westerns but you have to critique someone’s western story don’t say you hate westerns – or do I really have to be that obvious?

Rule of Thumb for Giving Good Criticism #5: Leave your baggage at home. If you don’t like the ‘politics’ in a story, then shut up. If you don’t enjoy a certain kind of food mentioned in a story, then shut up. If you don’t like a kind of sex in a story, then shut up. If you don’t like – you get the point.

Rule of Thumb for Giving Good Criticism #6: Be specific. No, not down to word and sentence, but rather avoid saying things like the plot was “bad,” or “dumb,” or “predictable.” Rather, give useful information: “There was too much foreshadowing, especially on page two. I could see the ending coming from then on.”

I could go on but I hope I’ve made my point. If I could sum all this up into a rather long fortune cookie it would be to try and remember that it’s easier to criticize than create, but more important to create than criticize – or at least help create, rather than harm.

“Many people hear voices when no-one is there. Some of them
are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day.
Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.” –Margaret Chittenden

Maybe it was because of a
recent birthday – thank you very much,
that’s very kind – or perhaps it’s because I just realized that I’ve been
at this, being a ‘professional’ author for over 20 years – shocking, I know – or possibly it’s because of a few …. (ahem)
sad experiences recently but I want to revisit something I’ve said before.

I really wonder about
writers.  Okay, internet, let’s
hear what you have to say: artists, musicians, actors … how to you treat your
fellow creators?  I used to have a
wonderful roomie who was a musician. 
We used to chat all the time about this, that, and other things but a
lot about how even though there’s a sense of competition among his fellows
there was also a lot of camaraderie: he’d come home full of bright energy from
playing for hours and hours with other musicians … just jamming. 

Meanwhile I’d spent the night
struggling with getting a stubborn story to cooperate, but mostly dealing with
one insanely arrogant writer after another demanding they receive special
treatment (oh, as a matter of transparency, I work as an editor and a publisher
in addition to trying to deal with my own writing ‘career’).  This all came to a head when I realized
that for those two decades of being a published about I currently have only a
dozen or so fellow authors I consider to be ‘friends’ (and Facebook doesn’t
count).

Sure – as a writer myself – I
can understand why … but that doesn’t make it right.  Again, I’m not sure what it’s like to
be a painter, actor, photographer, musician, or victim of any other creative
pursuit, but writing is damned hard: we
get little or no respect, no money, and everyone and their Great Aunt Maude
thinks they can do it as well.  Our
years of work, the care and concern we put into our stories and novels, are ignored
unless we sell something – and then only if it makes millions – or if you take home
some pretty little trophy.  If you
have a day job – and every writer out there does, and if they aren’t then
they’re either lying or a member of the rare 1% of writers – you know the
deafening silence that comes when you mention finishing a work. 

But what’s worse is that far
too often it seems that the greatest barrier every writer must face … are
other writers. Like said, it’s understandable … but not excusable: we get our
teeth bashed in, our souls crushed, our work ignored – or slammed by trolls –
and so, wounded, we try to bolster our scarred egos by wrapping ourselves in a
cloak of supposed superiority. 

Write erotica?  I’m better than a pornographer.  Write science fiction?  I’m better than a romance writer.  Write romance?  I’m better than a thriller writer.  Write thrillers?  I’m better than a science fiction
writer.  Have 5,000 Facebook
‘friends’?  I’m better than someone
with none.  Won an award?  I’m better than anyone who hasn’t.  Write for a blog or site?  I’m better than anyone who
doesn’t.  Have an agent?  I’m better than someone who doesn’t have
one.  Write a novel?  I’m better than anyone who hasn’t.  Sold to a ‘big’ publisher?  Then I’m better than anyone who
hasn’t.  Sold a book for five
figures?  Then I’m better than
someone who hasn’t.  A
professional?  Then I’m better than
someone who hasn’t sold a word.  Become
a ‘name’?  Then I’m better than anyone
who isn’t.

It’s pathetic. 

No, it’s fucking pathetic.

Oh, I’ve heard all the lame justifications
for this arrogance: if I treated everyone equally then I’d never have time to
write, that everyone has to earn their stripes, that you should take public pride
in your accomplishments.  But
that’s exactly what they are: excuses. 
The bottom line isn’t taking time, or the fear of becoming a full-time
mentor or support system.  The
awful trust is that treating other writers poorly makes weaker authors feel
more important.

Like said, I understand it –
and, I’m ashamed to say I’ve fallen victim to be on more than once
occasion.  But that doesn’t mean
I’m not aware of it – as well as despising myself when I do it. 

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

The idea of basic human
kindness aside … actually, I should just stop there: why shouldn’t you help
other writers?  Answer emails, try
to help as much as possible, don’t treat others as less than what you are,
offer opportunities, be inclusive, don’t become cliquish, don’t ask for special
treatment … we are all in this
together. 

Okay, so you want a pragmatic
reason?  How about this old
chestnut: be careful of who you step on while you’re moving up – because you’ll
be meeting them on the way down. 
Every writer begins the same way, which means that not only do we all
share the same pain and frustration but that that annoying little upstart you’re
dismissing could very well be the person who be in a position to do some
tremendous professional good, or – even better – become a true and wonderful
friend. 

Money does not equal skill,
awards are pointless, popularity comes and goes … if you write, if you work
hard on your craft, and if you have the incredible bravery to actually send
your work out into the world then you deserve respect.  If you don’t
get it from other writers don’t blame yourself or your work: you’ve just
encountered the shameful side of the world of professional writing. 

But don’t let them beat you
down and certainly don’t roll that shit downhill.  Yes, wish those that treat you poorly into the cornfield …
but keep your door open, and offer the hand you wish you’d receive.  I’m an atheist but I do believe in the
maxim “Treat others the way you’d wish to be treated.” 

This can be a monstrously hard
thing to do – being a writer – but it
doesn’t have to be. 

And always, always, always remember that no writer is better
than any other … and if you disagree with that then face it: you’re part of
the problem.

The following first appeared on WriteSex

Whatcha Say? 

“Dialogue can be tricky—”

“Whatcha mean ‘dialogue can be tricky’? It’s just people talking, right? How hard can it be?”

“You’d be surprised. For instance, a lot of people think that dialogue should be … um … er … ah … accurate. But if you wrote down how people actually talk it’s kind of … muddled … youknowwhatImean?”

“Okay, I getcha: you mean people should have distinctive voices, sound like human beings, but not cram those voices with the stuff real people actually say when they’re talking.”

“Bingo! It’s also important to know some basic dialogue grammar and punctuat—”

“—like dashes for when someone gets interrupted—”

“—right! Or when you…”

“Trail off, right? What about ‘OK’?”

“Well, the jury is out on that one. Personally I don’t like two huge caps in my dialogue. I prefer the more natural ‘okay.’ The same with tags, some people think that you have to have at least one tag at the end of a line of dialogue, but others say you don’t need any as long as it’s clear who’s doing the speaking—especially if it’s just between two characters, like us. Just be sure not to go too long without a tag as readers can sometime lose track of the characters.”

“I’m hip. I heard someone say that you should know who’s doing the talking by their vocabulary or style, but not to be so obvious that it’s clumsy.”

“It’s tricky, to be sure, but it really helps bring a character to life. Also, don’t hesitate to use typographic emphasis in dialogue, especially when it makes what a person is saying clear. Just stay away from ALL CAPS—”

“Jeez, no need to shout.”

“Or too many exclamation points!!!!”

“Which just sounds weird.”

“It’s much better to use simple italics … just be sure and put them where they’re most needed and not just willy-nilly as, again, it comes off as … bizarre.”

“Right. What also gets me is when characters talk all stilted-like. I mean, come on: you can be loose and be hard to follow but too stiff and it’s like listening to two damned robots.”

“To be sure! Try listening to your characters. Pay attention to writers who do dialogue well, or to good movies or TV shows. That’s how a writer learns, after all. You can also use … what is it called? Oh, yeah: grammar as a way of giving a character life like … pauses, like that. Or (watch where you’re stepping, buddy) asides, like that, or [can you tell me the way to the train station], he said in French. Stuff like that. But, again, don’t try to be too clever ’cause it’ll just pull readers out of the story.”

“What about if you have someone who’s … what did Bob say? ‘Quoting from another character’?”

“Yeah, that can be tricky. Technically you just have to put a single quotation mark in there like you did, but I don’t like to have people directly quote another character. It’s confusing, and unrealistic since we rarely remember what someone exactly said: kind of pulls the reader out of the dialogue.”

‘Then there’s the Brits—’

“Oh, yeah; that can be confusing: British copy editors often have single quotes for dialogue.”

“You know what ruffles my feathers?”

“Do tell.”

“When people think you have to have a whole new tag at the end of each line of dialogue, like repeating ‘said’ is some horrible rule to stay away from. I mean, come on, it can get real silly real quick: people ‘said’ then ‘uttered’ then ‘proclaimed’ then ‘spouted’ … sheesh!”

“I hear ya. The same goes fer people talkin’ way too much with whatcha might say is an accent. Get with it, folks: if ya can’t understan’ it it ain’t gonna work—”

“Or when youse puts in whatcha think is ah poinsonal style a’ talkin’ and all da happens is it’s either confusin’ or insultin’—youse catcha my drift?”

“Oh, yeah! Nothing worse that a character you can’t understand, or one who sounds like a poorly constructed stereotype. I understand wanting to show off someone’s character through their dialogue, but ya gotta do yer research and keep it down to a dull roar.”

“Like with historical characters. Oh, man, that gets my goat: when you got this Roman legionnaire saying, like, ‘okay’ or something like that. Or a Victorian British character using 21st century terms. Sure, too much accuracy is just as bad … ’cause I doubt anyone would ever understand a word they were saying … but that doesn’t mean throwing a bunch of anachronisms into a story, either. So, what about sex?”

“Here? Now? With all these people watching?”

“Ha-ha, Mr. Comedian. No, I mean what about dialogue with sex scenes?”

“Oh, that. Well, stay the hell away from onomatopoeias—”

“Gesundheit.”

“Now who’s the comedian? Onomatopoeia: ‘the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named’, according to Webster’s. In erotica it’s oooooh, aaaaah … stuff like that. Sound effects, you could say. Always horrible in erotica. You can just write that someone laughed or moaned.”

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean. Like you said, too, I guess: make sure your characters use the right words for what they’re doing.”

“God, yes. And research is important but, again, don’t let it get in the way of being clear about what’s happening. Back to the Victorians: they used a lot of slang for sex and body parts—so you can have fun there … just not too much or it can either get confusing or make you look like a show-off.”

“Okay, Mr. Expert: what advice can you give a writer about dialogue?”

“Well, for starters, feel your characters. Listen to them. Don’t worry about avoiding grammatical mistakes—you can always fix that later—just get their voices down on the page. Use your own life: the way you and your friends talk … just don’t be too literal. Try to push yourself: if you feel your dialogue could do with some work, read plays or listen to movies or shows with the picture off to get a feeling for how people talk.”

“Sounds good to me … but you forgot an important one.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

“Write nothing but two people talking to each other.”

***

Calling M.Christian versatile is a tremendous understatement. Extensively published in science fiction, fantasy, horror, thrillers, and even non-fiction, it is in erotica that M.Christian has become an acknowledged master, with more than 400 stories, 10 novels (including The Very Bloody Marys, Brushes and The Painted Doll). Nearly a dozen collections of his own work (Technorotica, In Control, Lambda nominee Dirty Words, The Bachelor Machine), more than two dozen anthologies (Best S/M Erotica series, My Love for All That is Bizarre: Sherlock Holmes Erotica, The Burning Pen, and with Maxim Jakubowksi The Mammoth Book of Tales from the Road). His work is regularly selected for Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, and others. His extensive knowledge of erotica as writer, editor, anthologist and publisher resulted in the bestselling guide How To Write And Sell Erotica.

In addition, he is a prolific and respected anthologist, having edited twenty five anthologies to date. He is also responsible for several non-fiction books, notably How to Write and Sell Erotica.

M.Christian is also the Associate Publisher for Renaissance eBooks, where he strives to be the publisher he’d want to have as a writer, and to help bring quality books (erotica, noir, science fiction, and more) and authors out into the world.

He can be found in a number of places online, not least of which is mchristian.com.