What is it about spanking? The question kept floating back and forth in my thoughts over the last day or so. Memories of my own spanking experiences kept emerging as part my pondering. I remembered asking a dominant friend of mine who to get started in spanking. His recommendation? Start with a leather paddle. “It’s easy to aim,” he told me, “and you can control how hard to hit with it.”

I remembered my surprise the first time I employed my own hand to a naked male bottom — hell, it hurt! I discovered a man’s ass is far more muscular than it appears and that my small hands and slender wrists can’t match a man’s fantasy for a hard hand spanking. Sorry, just ain’t gonna happen.

And, yeah, it does hurt me more than it hurts you.

Through the years, many of my spanking discoveries defied my expectations. I learned that I personally can’t take the pounding hand spankings I’ve seen others take. Oh, I warm up just fine to those preliminary slaps, the ones meant to warm the skin and prep the flesh. But up the ante into full-fledge mode and you’ll find me at my physical limit in no time. It’s fine for an over-the-knee quickie (and I do enjoy pressing my belly against my superior’s erection during the agony), but no one has been able to figure out how to escalate a hand spanking so I can find blissful ecstasy in it. Or maybe I’m so sensitive that trying to get me there takes so long that it’s like watching paint dry.

Paddle me while I’m in blue jeans, however, and you’ll have me in heaven in no time. Dang, but doesn’t that feel good! And, if the friction’s right, I’ll get the spanking equivalent of rug burn. Yum!

I’ve found that for all the sting I can’t handle, I take a certain amount of thud just fine, thank you very much. The cane is exquisite torment. The paddle, trying. Especially if you use the spike side. (Beware: skin breaks damn easy. Which is fine with me, but if you’re taking my cue and bringing it to a partner, make sure you’re both prepared for it.) The flogger, the quirt, the single tail. I love to hate them all. And hate to love them as well.

If my experience can be both particular and varied, imagine the number of stories skilled writers can dream up. Maybe that’s why Rachel’s spanking anthologies work so well. So many implements, so many circumstances, so many perspectives…

Endless possibilities, all — and delicious reading for everyone.

Additional links: The Spanked, Red-Cheeked Erotica blog; the Spanked book trailer.

But I had no idea he was also an antiquarian book dealer, and where most people answer to his call of The West, I answer to his call of The Book. I ran right out and bought the book. Sure, its mention of Gershon Legman and the briefly excerpted tale surrounding an early de Sade grabbed my attention, but it also isn’t the first book about books I’ve read. I’ve a few rows of such books in my personal library.

McMurtry had only one further tale of an erotic nature — SF author Cordwainer Smith had, it seemed, a bra fetish and McMurtry acquired the man’s bra mannequin as part of an estate acquisition that included the man’s library — but I was impressed. It’s rare for a bookseller’s memoir to divulge tales of the eroticis libris with any regularity. In fact, if you’re looking for book tales about erotica, you’re pretty much limited to Roy Harley Lewis’s 1981 title, The Browser’s Guide to Erotica.

However, I have book tales to tell. And erotica as a genre is growing — via Romance fiction, but it is growing. There’s plenty of book material past and present to write about.

So I’m going to change the slant of Pursed Lips. Hence, the changed subtitle of this blog. It’s time I shared my book lust more fully with you. I’ve done a bit of this before, but for every tale I’ve told, another waits in the wings.

Keep an eye out, OK?

Although Mr. Townsend first earned his mark in the underground gay leather world of the 1950s, he was at the forefront of queer openness that coalesced when queer men and women marched for gay liberation(and against the inflammatory likes of Anita Bryant and the prejudicial right). One could argue that the clandestine world of gay S/M fell by the wayside when queers no longer accepted life in the shadows, but one cannot argue that Larry’s influence came to us in the 1970s and remained with us always. Indeed, when I first began delving into S/M literature, Larry’s presence immediately greeted me. I can’t think of the heyday of the newly-liberated queer publishing era without thinking of him.

And I’m not alone. Fellow author Thomas Roche remembered as well and his words serve as tribute that a good writer can open mind and make hearts accepting.

Godspeed, Mr. Townsend.

Kearney is a long-time bibliographer, not just of Olympia Press but of many other lines of erotic fiction from the mid- to late-twentieth century. He was profiled in Geoff Nicholson’s wonderful work, Sex Collectors: The Secret World of Consumers, Connoisseurs, Curators, Creators, Dealers, Bibliographers, and Accumulators of “Erotica” Bibliographic research is part literary dedective work, part obsession with detail and while I greatly admire Kearney’s accomplishments, the nature of the beast means I’ll only ever be a wallflower of a dilettante. I simply haven’t the attention span to become a bibliographer.

That doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated by Olympia Press. I am. I’ve written about it. I collect its titles — my favorite acquisition is six titles beautiful rebound in leather. The bindings actually hurt their value, but I found them so charming I couldn’t resist. Plus, I could afford them.

However, I’m not a rich man. Until I am, I’ll content myself with Kearney’s recently released book, The Paris Olympia Press. The book details the history of Olympia Press, from its publishing activities to biographical sketches of its authors, from its literary achievements to its battles with censorship. Plus it’s a significant bibliography. Thus, my fascination and admiration can continue unbated.

I’m in the final editing pass of this same novel — the second half of which I’m really raking through the coals — and Crunchy still urges me on. Almost every afternoon, he curls up on the floor next to the tote bag where the manuscript rests, reminding me to work. (His napping somehow keeps me from being lazy. Talk about inverse proportions!)

Let’s give Crunch his day in the sun. (Roxie already had hers outside on the deck this morning — a perfect 69 degrees!) Vote — and vote often — for my loyal companion now through Sunday July 13th.* Tell your pet-loving friends and family, too.

*The winner goes into a final show-down next week with Thursday’s winner .

What I like about The Venture Brothers is their send-ups of “adult situations.” They push the envelope often and the results are always hilarious. The NSFW Best Brock Beatdowns captures some of the best — brawls that center on rowdy, rough sex. And sometimes murderous fisting. Really, how many shows involves a glove and a henchmen’s hand up a brutish protagonist’s ass all the while keeping Brock’s macho power on top? I recommend Beatdown Numbers 6, 4, and especially the winning number 1. (Oh how I love post-cold war tension!)

If you’d like a ball-squeezing torture that ends in the discovery of a lump, try number 5. (Carpe testes!) Oh yea, and don’t forget the weasel of a wanna-be manager, introducing Metalocalypse, another adult swim offering, to
granny sex.

Not-so-guilty pleasures aside, my daughter came to me recently with some on-line comic books recommendations, namely Megan Rose Gedris’ Yu+Me and I Was Kidnapped by Lesbian Pirates From Outer Space. “I think you’d like them,” she said.

I guess all my tolerance messages hit home.

My daughter was a tad surprised I’d already found YU+Me some time ago, pointing her to Prism Comics as the source, but I was delighted she updated me with Gedris’ newest work. I love its retro look, its nod to pulp fiction from long ago. And pages 14 and 15 are to die for.

Golly!

“This October, Trafalgar Square will bring to the U.S. a diverse collection from Neon, an imprint of the British publisher, Orion.”

Just so you know, Trafalgar Square is importing the dozen titles that managed to see print before Orion Publishing canceled the line. There’s no new development there.

Still, it begs the question: Had the publisher done its homework in the first place? Probably not or the PTB would’ve known about the erotic explosion among women readers. But then again,the rest of print publishing has been playing catch-up too, according to the PW article.

Another quote — one outrageous enough to raise eyebrows while seeing much reprinting — comes from Ellora’s Cave publisher, Ralene Gorlinsky:

“It’s been very obvious to us and our authors that as erotic romance has become popular, readers have gotten acclimated to it,” says Gorlinsky at Ellora’s Cave. “And they’ve become jaded. Things that were shocking five years ago—anal sex, ménage à trois—have now become vanilla.”

I’ll be the first to admit, it’s difficult to keep erotic writing fresh. But I think one of the problems I see in erotic romance is the constraints some editors put on their writers. Recently, literary agent Lori Perkins defined the difference between erotica and Romantica at her blog:

“I believe that Romantica** is a term coined by the Ellora’s Cave gals for their brand of erotic romance novels. They feature the happy monogamous endings and wish fulfillment of your average romance novel, but with many explicit sex scenes. The main character is always a woman, even though the story can be told from alternating points of view.

“Erotica is sexually charged fiction, but its payoff is not the traditional romance novel happy ending – anything goes with anyone.”

I don’t take issue with anything Ms. Perkins says here. But reading her comments with a day of seeing Gorlinsky quoted got me thinking about what I’ve learned during my years of creating short erotic fiction – and what erotic romance might want to do to remain fresh and entertaining.

1. Publishers and editors need to look more outside the box. (Yes, there are sexual practices you haven’t yet considered.) I can’t tell you the number of editors that refused to consider Inequities because the protagonist was a dominant woman. Even now, part of Inequities publicity is a public awareness campaign designed to tell you, the reader, that not all dominant women are cold-hearted bitches. Many are rather nice women who just happen to know what they like.

2. I can’t tell you the number of publishers I eliminated from considering because they wanted a tale that featured only two main characters. I’m sorry, but life’s more complicated than one woman meeting one man and then indulging in 70,000 words of emotional taffy-pulling between sex scenes. My protagonist re-enters the dating scene after a life-altering tragedy; meeting up with Mr. Perfect right out of the gate just wasn’t realistic.

3. I’d like to see both editors and readers move beyond seeking their own innate desires in the erotica they read. Explore erotica from different perspectives – women of color, dominant women, submissive men, dominant men, GLBT, polyamorists – and from any number of sexual practices – tantra, heavy BDSM, spanking, domestic discipline. I know a growing number of e-book publishers do welcome of any number of sexual avenues in the fiction they accept, but I’m not seeing it nearly as often among print publishers. And I’m not convinced that readers are willing to step beyond the bottom-y female protagonist in their reading selections. (I have not given up hope either.)

4. I’ve long known that you can’t please all of the people all of the time when it comes to erotica, especially when your reader seeks wish fulfillment. Nowhere is that more apparent than when you try to entertain the severe fetishist. For example, I could easily compose perfectly competent foot fetish tale but I’ll never write the perfect tale. Why? Because it’s far too easy to destroy the illusion. I’d only have to select the wrong kind of shoe, the wrong color, the wrong size. Or I could make her feet too big, too small. Her toes too long, too short. I could color her nails or leave them bare. It wouldn’t matter. If my details don’t match a reader’s fetish to the tee, if I stray from his fantasy, I’ve wrecked it for him. Women, I suspect, aren’t much different. We simply let our desires revolve around six-pack abs, six-figure salaries, and sixtieth-story penthouses.

As I write this, much of my time is dedicated to a final hard edit of an erotic fantasy that placed third in the 2006 Project Queer Lit contest. Earning a place in that contest told me that the work had merit, that it was worth seeing through – despite the fact that I doubt its post-queer, omni-sexual, polyamor-ist, many-charactered platform would have many takers in the print world. Nor do I think my next contemporary novel (just a few thousand words shy of completion) would easily find a print home. Why? Because it explores the personal growth of a married couple at a BDSM weekend when they’re confronted with potential disaster. Despite plenty of kinky content, it might be a touch too cerebral, a touch too married, and a touch too Canterbury Tales.

But I’m not giving up. Writing gives me entry in worlds extreme and exciting, and e-book publishing gives those worlds home. I can hardly wait to sink my teeth into that erotic fantasy I’ve been dreaming about, the one where the sadomasochism of Story of O collides with the expansiveness of George R. R. Martin’s Fire and Ice series, where sacred whores can save the world. I can hardly wait to see it take shape as a multi-part, serial, constrained only by two requirements: solid writing and a positive ending.

I might still be writing far too outside of the lines for print publishers, but I’m having a hell of time doing it. My zeal has never been more hopeful, more enthusiastic. I’m loving every minute of it. I can only hope that readers will follow.

**Note: Romantica is trademarked by Ellora’s Cave. If you’re reading an EC publication, you’re reading Romantica. If you’re reading anything by another publisher, it’s erotica romantic. Just trying to prevent a trademark trip-up here.

Nope. It ain’t none of that. Rather, Dirty Words is a wonderfully engaging collection of stories, essays, creative nonfiction, and poetry, each a reflection of a single dirty word, arranged alphabetically to give the appearance of encyclopedic enlightenment. Enlightenment, you might not find, but entertainment? Absolutely. And you’ll likely marvel at the humble but courageous honesty of its many contributors as they bare their souls in the course of telling tales of a far more carnal kind.

I had the good fortune to hear editor Ellen Sussman read two of her pieces, the introduction (in which her brother is told of the fact of life and how his receipt of such prime knowledge ahead of her became a long-lingering spark for Dirty Words) and, later, Commitment, in which she cautions women everywhere not to date her brother, now thinly-veiled as a “best friend, Max.” Dan Pope — a fellow bibliophile! — had us close to falling out of our seats with Coitus Interruptus (which one could subtitle Voyeur, Unwanted). Mary-Ann Tirone Smith gave us on-par entertainment with her hearty Hum Job of a tale while Rand Richards Cooper gave us equal part laughter and thoughtfulness on his discourse on the word, Fuck. (It’s no longer as dirty as you might think.) Last, Ravi Shankar (of poetry, not sitar fame) read a swift ode to the Quickie. Oddly enough, his poetry made me think of my late mother whose extensive poetry collection I inherited six years ago — who told me
some thirty-six years ago that, when it came to boys and desire, “Whatever you do, don’t.”

Like that advice lasted.

I walked away from the event, signed book in hand, a most gleeful soul. With my muse jabbing me in the back. Those rude pokes of inspiration mean you’ll see a dirty word of my own explained soon here at Pursed Lips.

Ellen Sussman and Dirty Words has an extensive book tour underway. If she and her rotating roster of contributions are coming to your neck of the words, attend. You’ll find yourself laughing, thinking, and enjoying.

Isn’t that what pleasure’s all about?

Carnal Desires Publishing takes a broad view of what constitutes erotic romantic. It doesn’t matter whether a novel features vanilla sex or the kinkiest of the kink, if it has likable characters, is well written, and has a satisfying ending, it counts. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that creative freedom.

So why am I waxing so ebullient yet again? Two reasons. My editor, Alexandra Adams, has been hard at work bringing several new novels on-line at Carnal Desires Publishing. They deserve notice — and Alexandra deserves heaps of praise; I know firsthand how hard she works to make CDP titles clean and tight reads. Head publisher Deron Douglas has expanded the number of formats available for purchase, staying on top of the evolving e-book market and consumers’ needs.

Working with Alexandra and Deron is wonderfully collaborative and I see nothing more beautiful scenery as I walk this rewarding path with them. That’s why I’m exhuberant this morning.