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Don’t be a sheep!

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

In my own quiet way, I guess I’m something of a outlaw. For one thing, I write smut – generally not considered a socially acceptable activity. My life hasn’t followed the standard script for women of my generation. I’m an engineer, a field often viewed as male-dominated. I left my birth country nearly two decades ago and have permanently settled half way around the world. Although I’m married, my husband and I have an open relationship. We’ve both kept in touch with former erotic partners, and we’ve experimented with swinging and polyamory. He and I have no children. However, we’ve founded several companies together.

My path has been a bit torturous but mostly enjoyable. While I don’t go out of my way to flaunt societal norms, I like to make my own decisions. Certainly, arguments based on popularity or mass appeal hold little weight for me.

I trace at least some of these attitudes to an incident in the early sixties. I was in fourth grade, living in frigid New England. That winter we had snow banks three feet high and weeks of temperatures in the teens (Fahrenheit). I had to stand outside with the other kids for twenty minutes every day, waiting for the school bus. Much to my embarrassment, my mother insisted that I wear padded snow pants under my dress. I hated this; only babies wore snowsuits! Furthermore, I had to tuck my skirt into the pants so I could hook the elastic suspenders over my shoulders. I looked even chubbier than I was.

“But Mom,” I argued one icy morning. “Everyone thinks I’m weird. Nobody at the bus stop wears snow pants!”

My mother, a strong woman with definite opinions, peered at me through her glasses. “Who cares about everyone else? Do you want to be a sheep?”

I was about to tell her I didn’t mind, but the deep contempt in her voice stopped me. I could tell from her tone that she’d never let the majority dictate what she should do. Wanting to make her happy – and amazed at the strength of her convictions – I donned the hated garment and headed out to catch the bus. I still felt conspicuous and silly, but I was also toasty warm. I noticed that the girls who had bare legs huddled together, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Maybe she was right. Maybe being like everyone else didn’t matter nearly as much as I’d thought.

I didn’t consciously decide that day to ignore the opinions of the masses, but looking back, I think she planted some of the seeds for my future independence. I remember other situations when I realized that I didn’t have to follow the social rules if they didn’t make sense to me. I’ve chronicled one potent (and erotic) incident in a previous blog post. As I grew older, I started to make choices that were different from what most people expected.

I’m still doing that now, especially when it comes to writing. Over my twenty year publishing career, I’ve seen the rise and fall of multiple fads and genres. Vampires, billionaires, virgins, step-brothers, cuckolds, reverse harem, Navy SEALS, mafia, aliens, motorcycle clubs – every few months there’s something new that “everyone” is writing. In a recent email, a friend who makes her living writing erotic romance was bemoaning the fact that she can’t keep up with what’s trendy. I told her (but I’m not sure she believed me) that it was hopeless, and recommended that she write what she enjoys, what sparks her personal passion. I could have asked: do you want to be a sheep? But that wouldn’t have been kind, or polite.

Sorry, but I don’t care what “everyone” is writing. Of course I have that luxury, because for me writing is a beloved avocation, not a career. But I also believe it’s impossible to gain either success or satisfaction trying to suss out what the masses are going to want next. Nobody can write fast enough to keep up with the fashions.

Meanwhile, I know from experience that my best work comes from tapping into my personal kinks and fantasies, not from writing to the market. For years I tried to produce the kind of romance my publisher wanted. I won’t say I failed completely, but trying to clip the wings of my nasty imagination resulted in books I now view as mediocre.

Not all my colleagues agree. Another friend has been analyzing the stats from Amazon, working to determine which genres have the best sales for the least competition. He’s very deliberately writing with an eye toward financial gain.

I wish him luck.

As for me, I now realize that my mom’s advice was precious, no matter how I resented it at the time. Her wisdom might not have brought me wealth, but I’ve reaped an abundance of joy.

A Bunny For Your Thoughts

Recently, my good friend Lisabet Sarai posted a testimonial about the late Larry Flynt, publisher of Hustler magazine. This reminded me of a similar piece I wrote several years ago about the passing of Hugh Hefner. I was working as a freelance writer for an alternative newspaper at the time, and was assigned to write an op/ed about whether Hefner made a significant impact on modern culture. Many people labeled him as a flesh peddler who exploited women and promoted sexual freedom, but his legacy goes much deeper than that.

The question before the board isn’t whether or not Hugh Hefner objectified women. I won’t dispute that, because his signature magazine and its spinoffs showcased the female physique, with and without airbrushing. He introduced the word centerfold to the lexicon, and exemplified a sophisticated Libertarian lifestyle. But he also promoted open dialogue on a wide variety of subjects that would become a part of the American fabric.

Many people overlook the fact that Hefner took chances and pushed the boundaries of what was considered “the norm” in conservative America beginning in the 1950s. With Playboy magazine, he made a point to feature not only attractive women, but thought-provoking ideas and cutting- edge fiction from some of our best writers. He also pushed the civil rights agenda and tolerance in an era when those weren’t popular notions. He continued that push into the new millennium when he supported same-sex marriages and transgender rights. Hefner claimed to be politically independent, and his editorial stance rarely favored one side over the other.

Hefner was color- and gender-blind when it came to his magazine’s contributors, and he chose to put talent first. Writers featured in Playboy over the years included Saul Bellow, Joyce Carol Oates, Anne Sexton, Germaine Greer, Kurt Vonnegut, John Updike, Shere Hite, and Alex Haley, who contributed some groundbreaking interviews. Haley’s interview subjects included Malcolm X, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and George Lincoln Rockwell.

The Playboy interview set a new standard and soon became the hot ticket for celebrities, athletes, and political figures. The reclusive John Lennon and Yoko Ono sat down for a lengthy talk that touched on subjects that were far removed from their music. In an eerie twist of events, the issue featuring Lennon’s interview was on newsstands when he was assassinated in 1981. Presidential candidate Jimmy Carter was interviewed during his 1976 bid for the White House, where he raised eyebrows and the blood pressure of his campaign staff when he stated “I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times.” Even the media-hating Frank Sinatra agreed to an in-depth chat in 1965. If you think Trump has a toxic relationship with the press, check out Sinatra’s pedigree and you’ll understand why this was a noteworthy event.

Over the years, Hefner expanded his empire to include nightclubs, merchandise, and television. He encouraged new talent in the entertainment field, and two of his early TV shows, “Playboy’s Penthouse” and “Playboy After Dark,” featured musicians and stand-up comics in need of exposure. In 1963, he gave a career boost to a young Black comic named Dick Gregory by hiring him to work at the Playboy Club in Chicago. Gregory later claimed that his career took off after that gig. Hefner also sponsored the Playboy Jazz Festival, where lesser-known performers were given a chance to play before a large audience.

Hefner may have promoted sexism through his magazines, clubs, and Playboy Bunnies, but in retrospect, he was simply going with the times. He didn’t start the sexual revolution in the 1960s–he just took advantage of it. To the current generation, Hugh Hefner will likely be remembered as the Botox- and Viagra-addicted old man in the silk pajamas and bathrobe, surrounded by young women who were paid to act like they were having a good time. In reality, he should be remembered as someone who got people thinking and talking about issues that they normally wouldn’t.

And that’s significant.

Keeping it (un)Real

by Ashley Lister

Earlier this week I launched another novella. This is not me trying to publicise my novella. This is me explaining what I did to make the book launch a little bit different.

Cursed is a horror story, the third book in a series. However, this one focuses on a group of Urbex students who break into abandoned properties and share ghost stories. The idea isn’t just a framing device (because the framing device is part of the narrative). But it was this idea of sharing ghost stories that came to mind when I was organising my book launch.

Most advice about book launches suggests we should do something memorable or unusual to make the event stand out. This is tricky because, between you and me, a book launch usually involves encouraging potential readers to turn up so you can try and sell them a copy of your book. This is most often achieved by reading a passage or two from the new release, ending on a cliff-hanger, and hoping the members of your audience are sufficiently well-off so they can afford to buy a copy to satisfy their curiosity.  And none of this seems like a structure to make an event that is memorable or unusual.

I considered my options.

  • I could do it naked. (I discounted this idea early on)
  • I could do it whilst wearing a mask or make-up. (I discounted this idea early on as well)
  • I could do it with cute videos going on in the background which would help promote the book and add to the atmosphere of the sinister I was hoping to create. (This worked)
  • I could do it with a cool background, such as the one below, showcasing the book and other titles, to help promote interest. (This also worked)

It was whilst I was brainstorming these ideas that I came up with the notion of people sharing ghost stories. 

Rather than me spending an hour telling people to buy my book (because it’s exciting, entertaining and fun), I simply explained the concept of the novella, gave everyone a little taste from it, and then (as a Zoom audience), we sat around a virtual campfire and shared our tales of the supernatural.  As a matter of fact, the campfire wasn’t that virtual. Some of us had campfire backgrounds. One reader had installed a red lamp so he looked demonic as he read his story. The friend I’d asked to host had a reverb on his microphone so he could chortle like a demon at relevant spots. We were all using the campy gimmicks that are frowned upon in traditional storytelling, and they all worked beautifully.

I was still able to read parts from my novella. And I made sure links were available in the chat boxes so everyone could buy if the mood took them. But this format meant we were able to frighten one another with our personal stories of the supernatural, which leant itself to the exact mood I wanted to create for people who enjoy stories of the supernatural. Rather than it being an hour, we were online for more than two hours. There were competitions with prizes given for the most unsettling stories. Readers were making connectionsthrough their shared passion for the supernatural.

And the reason why I mention this is not to promote my novella, Cursed. It’s simply to say: when you’re launching a book, thinking outside the box can make the event so much more than a simple book reading. 

PS BUY MY BOOK

Landmarks

Spring is coming, and I’m looking forward to it. Combining Covid with cold weather has not been fun. I look forward to reading outdoors in my Adirondack chair. Glass of iced tea in hand, I’ll devour books by the dozen. I’ll also begin my gardening routine. I plant the fertilizer spikes beneath the azaleas on the first day of Spring. My herbs have survived the winter indoors so far for the first time, ever. I think they’re going to make it to spring. I’ll repot them, feed them, and set the pots outside. I also have bird feeders galore. Now to keep the squirrels away from the bird seed.

My birthday is in two weeks. I’m in my prime, so to speak. I got a bit of a late start when it comes to writing. I didn’t start professionally until I was in my late 40s. So now that I’m a bit older than that, I feel the pressure that comes with some birthdays to hit my literary bucket list. There are things I’d like to do with in the next ten years. Here are a few of them.

  1. Joint a local writer’s group.
  2. Get an agent.
  3. Finish my horror novel.
  4. Write a sequel to “Happily Ever After: Twisted Versions of Your Favorite Fairy Tales”, my erotic fairy tales book.
  5. Join a professional writers organization like Romance Writers of America.
  6. Aim for some awards.

I’ve never thought I was too old to begin a writing career. Neither do I think I should throw in the towel because I’m older now. Not a chance. Here are some writers who got a late start in life when it comes to careers:

Toni Morrison – 40

J. R. R. Tolkein – 45

Laura Ingalls Wilder – 65

Annie Proulx – 57

Raymond Chandler – 51

Henry Miller – 44

I’m starting a new writing gig in a few weeks. This is unlike anything else I’ve ever done, but I can’t talk much about it since I signed an NDA. But I can say I have a new project ahead of me that I’m very excited about. It may open up new vistas for me, and I am looking forward to it. I may be a mature woman, so to speak, but my career is just starting to take off. I don’t think age should hold you back.

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Elizabeth Black writes in a wide variety of genres including erotica, erotic romance, horror, and dark fiction. She lives on the Massachusetts coast with her husband, son, and her two cats. Her LGBTQ paranormal erotic shifter romance novel “Full Moon Fever” is now available for purchase at Amazon and other book distributors. Her collection of erotic fairy tales, “Happily Ever After: Twisted Versions of Your Favorite Fairy Tales”, is also available at Amazon.

Web site: http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Twitter: http://twitter.com/ElizabethABlack

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethblack

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/b76GWD

Echoes of the Demi-monde

From Wikipedia:

Demi-Monde is French for “half-world.” The term derives from a play called Le Demi-Monde, by Alexandre Dumas fils, published in 1855. The play dealt with the way that prostitution at that time threatened the institution of marriage. The demi-monde was the world occupied by elite men and the women who entertained them and whom they kept, the pleasure-loving and dangerous world Dumas immortalized in the 1848 novel La Dame aux Camelias and its many adaptations. “Demimondaine” became a synonym for a courtesan or a prostitute who moved in these circles—or for a woman of social standing with the power to thumb her nose at convention and throw herself into the hedonistic nightlife. A woman who made that choice would soon find her social status lost, as she became déclassé.
———————

The demi-monde used to be much bigger than it is now. Before the social upheavals of the 1960s, just about anyone who had a sex life that wasn’t confined to married heterosexual monogamy was in one or more of the overlapping circles of the demi-monde. Men who desired other men risked being arrested, as did people of any gender who got paid for sexual service. Women-loving women risked the same legal penalties (which varied by state) as gay men and sex workers in the U.S. — but not in Commonwealth countries, including Canada.

The Canadian Criminal Code doesn’t mention sex between women. It’s just not there. There is an anecdote about how Queen Victoria cleverly refused to sign a law against “sodomy” that included women, and most of Canadian criminal law can be traced back to British law. However, I’m skeptical of anecdotes. At the time when male politicians were busily drafting laws against “vice” in Victorian England, women didn’t really have the status of adult citizens. Why write women into every criminal law when most of them were under the authority of their fathers or husbands? Male heads of households could decide what they could tolerate from their female wards.

The “gay community” of Regina, Saskatchewan, where I “came out” as a lesbian in the early 1980s, was not considered respectable by anyone, least of all by the people in it. Dr. Valerie Korinek, who teaches at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon, recently gave a talk on Zoom, based on her 2018 book, Prairie Fairies: A History of Queer Communities and People in Western Canada, 1930-1985. Dr. Korinek claimed that it was harder to find interview subjects in Regina than anywhere else, and she speculated on the reasons. Regina is the seat of government of the province of Saskatchewan, and it is also the national headquarters of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. A heavy government and police presence promotes conformity and fear of the law.

When I went to the “gay club” for the first time, it was so dark that I wasn’t sure I would recognize any other members of that demi-monde by daylight. The rule was that newcomers could visit the bar a few times, but then must pay the membership fee and sign the registry. Later, when I was elected to the board, I saw that most names on the registry looked too fanciful to be the same names on people’s birth certificates.

I knew that the federal Omnibus Bill of 1969 had suddenly brought Canada into the modern era by liberalizing divorce, abortion, and sex between men by making it more-or-less legal in “private” places, subject to interpretation. This was generally considered a sign of progress.

The legal status of women-loving women didn’t change in 1969. What was invisible stayed invisible.

On my first night at the bar, I met Jo, as I’ll call her, who became my first “woman” lover, loosely speaking. She called herself a “dyke,” and bought all her clothes in men’s clothing stores. I had a daughter from a previous marriage to a man, and I moved us in with Jo before I knew her very well. I was afraid of the gossip that would ensue if too many of my neighbours in a housing co-op for low-income single parents became aware that Jo was spending nights in my apartment.

The new apartment I shared with Jo was soon filled with her drinking buddies from the bar. Most of the “dykes” in that crowd were convinced that lesbianism was illegal, and I couldn’t persuade them otherwise. Several of them had spent time in the minimum-security women’s prison in Saskatchewan, and I came to recognize the DIY blue tattoos of an ex-con. They had all been convicted of something other than consensual sex with female companions, but the fact that they had been locked up seemed like proof to those who knew them that all “dykes” were subject to legal persecution.

When I told Jo’s friends that I was working on a Master’s thesis at the local university (originally a branch of the University of Saskatchewan), they seemed amused. As far as they could see, I had delusions of middle-class success.

I was alarmed to learn that Jo had been fired from her job as assistant manager of a pizza parlour because she had been caught with her hand in the till. She explained that: 1) she had been drinking, and therefore couldn’t be held responsible for what she did, and 2) the money was easy to grab, so she couldn’t be blamed for grabbing it.

I tried to reason with her. Jo had a daughter of her own, conceived when she passed out at a party in the presence of men. Jo’s daughter was being raised by her foster-parents, but Jo wanted us to raise our two children under one roof. As I pointed out, this would require stability of several kinds: financial, emotional, occupational, domestic.

Jo grew tired of my nagging, and she watched me when I withdrew money from the ATMs which had recently been installed in local banks. One day, she helped herself to the contents of my bank account, and fled to the western city of Calgary during the annual summer Stampede.

I asked my parents for help, and they were glad that I wanted to leave my stunningly unsuitable roommate. They hoped I was over my “lesbian phase,” and they helped me and my daughter move in with them. From there, I reported Jo’s theft of my money to the Regina police.

This was a bold move, and I knew it. I wondered whether anyone in the demi-monde I had joined would ever speak to me again after they learned that I had reported my own lover. On the other hand, I didn’t want to become known as a sitting duck, someone who could easily be fleeced.

As soon as Jo returned to town, I told her what I had done. She appeared at my parents’ house and threatened to show them some compromising photos of her and me. (The only photos I knew of showed both of us with all our clothes on. I wasn’t sure what she thought that proved.)

For about two weeks, Jo and I yelled at each other over the phone. I told her that if she paid me back in full, there would be no case, I would refuse to testify against her, and the police would leave her alone. She promised to pay me back—eventually. I told her this had to happen soon if she wanted me to call off the attack dogs.

Then the phone calls started. Almost every one of Jo’s friends called me at my parents’ house, demanding to know whether I had reported them to the police. What had I said?

I asked them if they been involved in Jo’s bank heist, and they seemed confused. The standard response was, “I don’t know nothin about your money.”

At length, the dust settled. Jo’s friends seemed greatly relieved to learn that the cops weren’t after them for anything to do with me, even though they had heard from Jo that I had come to the bar for the purpose of getting all the “queers” locked up.

Jo never paid me back, and she acquired a record for “grand larceny,” theft over $500, although she wasn’t jailed for that. Instead, I was given custody of her car in lieu of repayment, even though I couldn’t drive. I ended up selling it for much less than she owed me.

For years, I seemed to be known in certain circles as a police plant, a “straight” academic type who never really fit in with the “dykes” and “fags” of the club. However, I met more compatible people in the queer community, and joined several groups that advocated for greater social acceptance and legal protection.

Emerging from a shadowy demi-monde into the light of visibility feels surrealistic. I doubt whether the transgender, non-binary and pansexual, polyamorous millennials among my students believe for a moment that the police are just waiting to arrest them for being “perverts.”

Wherever you live, there is probably still a demi-monde near you: a community of sex workers which overlaps with a community of the poor, the racially oppressed and of non-violent drug users. There is still work to be done, not only in “rehabilitating”  the “fallen,” but in lifting the concrete blocks off their necks. Those of us who believe in sexual freedom have a responsibility not to romanticize the culture of the closet.

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Tasteless

The last year or so has seen the passing of many prominent public figures: Ruth Bader Ginsberg, Diana Rigg, Sean Connery, John Le Carré, Chick Corea and Tony Rice, to name a few. (Not familiar with Tony Rice? Neither was I, until a music-loving friend sent me links to his amazing bluegrass performances.) It’s enough to start a senior citizen like me musing on mortality, but I imagine that wouldn’t make a very entertaining blog post.

One very recent death that you might have missed was the demise last week of porn mogul Larry Flynt. I don’t know how many ERWA readers will mourn him. He was, based on reports, an irascible troublemaker who gleefully promulgated the crudest and most inflammatory sexual imagery imaginable and who made a fortune doing so. Unlike Hugh Hefner, whose Playboy empire sold a fantasy of wealth, power and high class erotic indulgence, Flynt purveyed unapologetic smut aimed at the sort of guys he grew up with in small town Kentucky. Calling his publications sexist and exploitative would be kind. Feminists despised him – Gloria Steinem described him as a “violent, sadistic pornographer”. Meanwhile the cover of the 1974 Hustler issue that included the first-ever photos of women spreading their legs to display their genitalia promised “down to earth sexy girls”.

I’ve never been a Hustler fan. The few issues I’ve seen struck me as quite tasteless. Nevertheless, I hold some admiration for Larry Flynt. He was honest about what he was doing and even more important, willing to fight for his right to do it. Over his lifetime, he engaged in multiple court cases involving First Amendment rights as they applied to so-called “obscene” material, winning some and losing others. He seemed to enjoy battling against authority, and spent significant money and time trying to expose the sexual peccadilloes of conservative Republicans and born-again Christians. Furthermore, he paid, very personally, for his stubborn insistence on his right to publish porn. In 1978, a would-be assassin shot him as he was on the way to argue an obscenity case in court. The attack left him partially paralyzed and in constant pain, and he spent the rest of his life in a wheel chair. Still, he didn’t stop disseminating smut – or stirring up trouble for people who opposed him.

How many of us erotica authors can claim to have sacrificed that much for our art? (Not that Flynt would ever have dignified his products with that term…)

Anyway, I’d like to suggest a few minutes of silence to recognize the passing of a colorful figure in the history of the sex wars, “an unseemly man” (according to the title of his autobiography) who to the very end of his life maintained that what kind of sex people have or what kind of pictures they look at is none of the government’s business.

The world will be a bit more boring now that Larry Flynt is gone – a bit tasteless.

From The Beginning

I’m pleased to announce the release of “The Nick Seven Bundle” from Extasy Books. This volume contains the first three installments of my popular series about a former CIA spook who fled to the Florida Keys in an attempt to start a new life for himself. Along the way he finds romance and more adventures than he cares for.

“He’s as cool as a Pina Colada on a Key West beach, he’s the kind of guy your mother wouldn’t let you play with, and he’s every bad guy’s worst nightmare.

“Nick Seven left the CIA to escape the painful memory of a personal tragedy. His peaceful life in The Florida Keys is disrupted by the sudden appearance of a nemesis from his past, one he thought was buried alongside that unpleasant memory. Nick decides to come back to resolve this unwanted conflict and finally achieve the inner peace he has sought for so long. He’s pleasantly surprised to find himself paired with beautiful Felicia Hagens, a former co-worker from Barbados. As they track down their quarry, they realize they have unrequited feelings for each other. The time might not have been right before, but this is now. When the job is done, Felicia decides to share Nick’s good life in the tropical serenity of Key Largo. Their new life is soon interrupted by a former colleague with a personal score to settle, and a friend of Nick’s who is being manipulated by the covert agency he once worked for. Can Nick and Felicia get past these interruptions and reclaim their personal corner of paradise?”

The set includes “Memories Die Last,” “Never Look Back” and “Warning Shot.” Although the books don’t need to be read in order, this is an excellent way to see how Nick and Felicia got together, and the continuing evolution of their relationship. The debut story, “Memories Die Last,” explains in detail why Nick left the CIA in the first place, and what prompted him to come back for one last assignment. It also explores the unavoidable attraction between Nick and Felicia, his sexy former co-worker from Barbados.

The intrigue continues in the second book, “Never Look Back.” Nick and Felicia are pitted against a rogue agent from their past who shows up in the Keys for no apparent reason, and is soon followed by another CIA operative who used to be Nick’s partner. These unexpected appearances raise a lot of questions. Are they working together? Why is someone following Nick everywhere he goes? Who is responsible for a couple of attempts on their lives? Spoiler alert: the ending to this one will take you by surprise.

The third story in this volume, “Warning Shot,” is a personal favorite of all the books I’ve written. It shows a different side to Nick, something more compassionate that he keeps hidden. He tries to help a friend and former mentor who has gotten caught up in a potentially dangerous situation, one that could have international political impact. There is vivid atmosphere, intrigue, action, quirky characters, and plenty of romance. This is a fast-paced story from start to finish, with some real surprises along the way.

These stories contain something for everyone. There are interesting characters, vivid tropical atmosphere, action, humor, romance, and sizzling sex between Nick and Felicia. It’s safe to say that these two generate more heat than Key West in July.

If you haven’t read any of the other stories in this series, do yourself a favor and pick up this set. It’s priced cheaper than buying all three books separately, and can be found at Amazon and all major book sites. Happy reading!

https://www.amazon.com/Nick-Seven-Bundle-Tim-Smith-ebook/dp/B08LCTHRGF/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=nick+seven+bundle+1&qid=1613159194&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

 

Book Releases

 by Ashley Lister

 When we release a title into the world, the world should give out a celebratory cheer and the streets should be swathed in a cavalcade of confetti. Our hard work, imagination and effort deserves to be justly rewarded. Reviewers from all the mainstream media should be singing our praises and urging the buying public to rush to local bookstores to demand a copy of our most recent opus magnus. It wouldn’t be too much to ask for a segment on that day’s news.

Sadly, this is seldom what happens. Book releases come and go and all that happens is another book is added to the ever-growing list of titles that people know they should read but seldom do.image-1

That said, there are things we can do, as writers, to make sure that book releases have maximum impact. Whether you write for a large publishing house or you self-publish, making sure people talk about your book release is an important step toward achieving success.

Flagging the book release as an event on social media is an important first step. Your friends want your book title to be successful just as much as you do. Letting them share posts, retweet links or like statuses etc is a powerful way of letting a large audience know about the existence of your new title.

Of course, one of the problems with an erotic book is that some authors can’t (or don’t want to) rely on family to help promote a title with sexually explicit content. Fortunately, this is one way that the erotic writing community is able to help because we’re all happy to share links, retweet posts etc. All you need to do is ask your other writer friends in the genre and they invariably help out.

cursedkill1Blogging about the title is very helpful. I love to experience new authors but there are times when it’s good to understand what sort of writing I’m going to encounter. If the grammar or spelling are unorthodox I need to be in a particular mindset to enjoy such writing. Seeing how someone presents a blog post will give me a strong indication as to whether or not I’m going to enjoy what they’ve written. Blog posts are the perfect advertising medium for the content of the story you’re trying to promote.

Merchandise, giveaways, and competitions are excellent ways to inspire more interest. For writers the idea of a bookmark is an essential sales tool but mugs with your latest cover on the side, pencils engraved with your book title or T-shirts bearing a soundbite from your work, are equally valid. Gifs, photos, short videos and any other electronic promotional information is very useful for potential readers to be captivated by the idea of your story to the point where they will invest in the product.

There are other things that can be done, which I’ll probably discuss at length here in future posts, but the most important one: the one that should never be forgotten, is to always include a link to a place where your latest release can either be bought or pre-ordered: Cursed is currently available for pre-order.

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Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day is in two weeks. What to do? What to do?

You could go out to dinner with your loved one and buy them flowers. Catch a romantic movie. Go for a walk in the park or on the beach.

That was, until Covid reared its ugly head. So, what are some good ways to celebrate the Day of Love while isolating and wearing masks?

There are plenty of things you can do. Turn off your phone and unplug the computer. Here are some suggestions for fun things to do on Valentine’s Day.

Breakfast in bed. Buy some bed trays and enjoy your poached eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns in bed with your loved one. Even better – get up before your loved one does and make breakfast while they’re still sleeping. Once finished – assuming the delicious smells do not wake up your partner – wake them up and feed them! One of my favorite breakfast dishes is crab cakes eggs benedict. You can’t go wrong with eggs benedict especially if crab meat is involved (unless you are allergic or don’t like seafood).

Cook a lovely dinner at home. Both of you pitch in in the kitchen. Make it special. Why not try your hand at something you’ve never made before? While I bake, my husband cooks. I make the junk food, LOL. My husband made orange chicken with brown jasmine rice for dinner today. It was amazing! Make the meal super special by getting out the good dishes and popping open a bottle of fine wine or bubbly. If you aren’t comfortable with a fancy meal, go simple but delicious. Tonkatsu and rosemary chicken (like Shake N Bake, but better) are two of our go-to meals when we want simple but good. Plus, I can make these dishes. If I can make them, anyone can. You’re reading a post from someone who can burn water. 🙂

If cooking isn’t your thing, order takeout from a good restaurant. Many restaurants that are open now offer takeout and curbside pick-up. The sky’s the limit. You could go for the usual Chinese or Mexican, or something more elaborate. Put the food in a warm oven as soon as you get it home to resurrect it in case it gets too cold.

Why merely buy a card and sign it when you can write a love letter? I like note cards with beautiful ocean themes on the front. Pen a beautiful note telling your loved one why you care so much.

Buy a bag of X rated candy hearts. I’ve seen them at Amazon. Some of them have saying such as “SPANK ME”, “LICK ME”, “TEASE ME”, “RIDE ME”. You get the idea. You can exchange these candies and act out the instructions. Loads of fun!

You don’t have to go to Spencer Gifts at the mall to get sexy playing cards or coupons anymore. Create your own! Create a set of coupons your partner may cash in at any time. Suggestions for messages include “Give a half hour back rub”, “good for one strip tease”, and “Voyeur: watch me”.

What kinds of sex toys do you like? Try couples sex toys like a dildo harness or warming scented massage oil. I used to write sex toys reviews for Babeland, California Exotics, and other companies. There are sex toys out there for every fetish and desire. I recommend the silicone toys over the jelly rubber ones. They are more hygienic. Yes, they cost more, but they are worth it. Some good high-end brands are Jimmy Jane and Lelo. My favorite sex toy company is Lelo, from Sweden.

Try a little light bondage. You don’t have to go full Marquis de Sade here. A flogger whip, blindfold, and plush cuffs make for a fun and relaxing evening. If you are more advanced, try shibari – erotic Japanese rope bondage.

Get naked and paint each other with water-soluble body paint! The tactile sensations will turn you on and the whole idea sounds like fun anyway. You’ll laugh as you tickle and touch each other. Who knows what that could lead to? 🙂

Enjoy a romantic movie. Some good movies for Valentine’s Day are “Pride and Prejudice”, “The Princess Bride”, “When Harry Met Sally”, and “P. S. I Love You”.

Game night! Play a board game or computer game together. Make sure the wine and/or bubbly are flowing to make the game even more exciting.

Read naughty stories to each other. There are many good erotic and romantic books and short stories out there for you to enjoy. You can find recommendations on this web site. There are also my books. My Amazon Author Page is here: https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethblack

Listen to music together. You can go for your favorite bands or listen to something especially naughty such as Lords of Acid. My husband and I like to play what we call “Dueling iTunes”. He’ll play a song and then I’ll play one. We set up our computers so the songs play on the TV. Sing along and have fun.

If you are lucky enough to have a large bathtub – or better yet a hot tub – toss in your favorite scented oil, bubbles, or bath bomb and enjoy a good, long, warm soak together. Make sure you have chocolates, berries, and champagne handy. Don’t forget the romantic music!

Once Covid lifts and it’s safe to go to a hotel, book a room with a hot tub. I have Hilton Honors, and I’ve used points to get steep discounts on hotel rooms with hot tubs in them. Where I live, the Hampton Inn (part of Hilton Honors) sometimes offers jacuzzi rooms starting at $150 per night, which isn’t bad for a room with a hot tub, fridge, and microwave. Order delivery or bring back food from a restaurant. Don’t skimp on dessert. Some of my favorite desserts are crème brûlée, chocolate mousse, and ice cream.

If you live in a warmer climate, enjoy Valentine’s Day outdoors. Star gaze or sit in comfortable chairs and talk about anything under the sun. Just remember to socially distance and to wear a mask when appropriate.

Make Valentine’s Day your own and enjoy it with your partner. Keep in mind you don’t have to limit yourself to Valentine’s Day. These suggestions work regardless of the time of year. Turn every day into Valentine’s Day if you wish! Supercharge your love life with fun, games, and toys. You won’t be disappointed, and neither will your partner.

UPDATE: I just learned that Kraft has come out with a PINK Mac and cheese that tastes like… candy! Just in time for Valentine’s Day. If you have a wicked sense of humor, make some of that up for your loved one. It’ll be talked about for years to come. LOL

In Search of “Bad Words”

Now that a duly-elected government has been installed in the U.S., there is an ongoing debate about how to define the protest or insurrection or badly-organized invasion of the Capitol building in Washington DC on January 6. The most reasonable explanations of that event include the four years of Trump’s presidency, which led to a climax that was both bizarre and horrifying, but completely predictable.

Most labels only make sense in their context, and that especially applies to vague terms such as “abuse” and “disloyalty.” These words have meaning, but since they can be used as weapons by people on opposite sides of a conflict, they need to be explained.

This is why I don’t keep a list of “obscene” words to avoid, as distinct from safely “erotic” words. I’ve heard men use terms of endearment, such as “baby” and “sweetheart,” on women they clearly despise, and no observer could be left in doubt about what these words signify at the time.

Many years ago, I had a husband who often reminded me that I was his wife. “Wife” sounded threatening when he used it. True wifedom, in Husband’s world-view, was a saintly, submissive condition I could never reach because I was an Olympic-level slut. He was careful not to use such words, even while he accused me of having sex with random men whenever I was out of our home: at work, at school, at social events, or en route between any of those places. The man seemed convinced that I kept spare lovers under the bed, but he took pride in being too decent to use “coarse language.”

For centuries, “wife,” previously spelled “wyf,” just meant woman. Out of context, the word is morally and emotionally neutral, so banning it wouldn’t serve any good purpose. Now that I am legally married to a woman, I enjoy the sense of belonging implied by the word “wife” in the context of an equal relationship: she is mine, and I am hers.

Here at ERWA, attempts have sometimes been made to compile a list of words that are guaranteed to heat up the person who hears them, and other terms that should never be used because, supposedly, they are always degrading. I realize that these divisions usually come from good intentions, but they just don’t stand up to scrutiny.

Consider this: in a previous relationship, my Significant Other sometimes called me a “bitch in heat.” I didn’t take offence because it seemed intended as a description of my current state of arousal, not as a negative definition of my personality. It was used by someone who never harmed me, and who had no real power to harm me. Her drinking (like that of my ex-husband) concerned me, but in this case, I noticed how her drinking harmed her more than it did me. I was free to leave, and eventually, I did.

When reading an erotic story, I like to get a sense of the characters before they or the narrative voice use any terms for body parts or sexual activities. Would a particular female character think of her vagina as “pussy,” a “cunt,” a “snatch,” a “beaver,” a “vajayjay,” or a “spoon?” (That’s some local slang.) Would a male character refer to his “member,” his “johnson,” his “cock,” or his “dick?” All these terms deserve a blog post apiece.

For example, let’s consider “dick.” It always sounds to me like the punch line in a joke, especially since it can also mean a detective, or it can be the nickname for a lot of men named Richard. I imagine a “dick” as a cartoon character with a face, or (and here is some serious incongruity) an innocent boy in simple stories about Dick, Jane and Sally, the books I first encountered in grade school.

What you imagine may well be completely different.

The exact terms for body parts and sexual activities depend on the culture and the historical period, as well as the character’s background. I can’t even guess the implications of a word if the scene doesn’t give them away. Clearly, “cunt” is not a compliment if one person hurls it at another before slamming the door. “I just love your beautiful cunt” conveys a whole other tone.

This is one reason why censorship has never appealed to me as a strategy for making bad things go away. For one thing, history has shown that simply outlawing a thing or an activity, and even applying drastic legal penalties, do not make anything disappear. A hundred years ago, alcohol was banned throughout the U.S. and Canada, and it continued to be wildly popular. People drank home-made hooch instead of more palatable stuff with known ingredients.

On the subject of sexual harm, it’s simply impossible to determine which words should be considered unacceptable. This doesn’t mean that words can never be used to wound, especially if someone has developed an allergy to certain terms because of previous experience. When in doubt about the emotional tone, flavour or nuance of a word or a phrase, the hearer or reader shouldn’t hesitate to ask.

Words used in bad faith (e.g. sexual terms used as insults, which are then dishonestly explained away) are always part of a toxic interpersonal context. In the long run, it just doesn’t matter what Person A called Person B in a context of manipulation and control. Behaviour speaks louder than words.

On the other hand, a good-faith discussion of the uses of language can be erotic in itself. We need to have more conversations about words that tickle the ears.
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Hot Chilli Erotica

Hot Chilli Erotica

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