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M. Christian

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: What’s Erotic?

by | September 10, 2012 | | 3 Comments

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 a huge 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.  

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: “Oh, how beautiful.”

by | August 12, 2012 | | 2 Comments

Funny that these columns are called Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker because … well, I have a
confession to make.

I’m very much on the fence about the whole thing, and am still dealing with doubts about whether or not I’ve made the right decision but – in the end – I think it will end up being a good thing.

I’ve joined Facebook.

I know, I know: I’ve been a rather vocal – if not strident – opponent of that particular corner of the social media universe, but a very good friend of mine pointed out that, to call down The Bard, I “doth protest too much.”

It hasn’t been easy: I tell ya, nothing like having a nearly (gasp) twenty year writing career resulting in only 433 ‘friends’ and 68’likes’ on my author page to really make the dreaded depression demon really flare up.

But I’m sticking with it – not because I think that I have to, or that Facebook is the end-all, be-all solution to all my publicity needs – but because it was something I really, honestly, didn’t want to do.

Obviously, explanations are in order.  See, I’m a firm believer in pushing yourself in all kinds of ways: as a person and, particularly, as a writer.  Sure, you have to like what you are doing – both in how you live your life as well as the words you put down on ‘paper’ – but growth comes not from comfort but from adversity, from challenge.

I didn’t set out to be an pornographer, but then an opportunity presented itself and (surprise!) I was actually pretty good at it.  I didn’t plan on being a ‘gay’ writer – because, no duh – I’m not, but (surprise!) I not just did it but came
to really enjoy it. I didn’t think I could be a teacher, but (surprise!) I’ve found that I really get a kick out of it.

I may have hated Facebook – hell, I still hate Facebook – but I had to at least try it. Maybe it will work out, maybe it won’t, but at least I’ll have stretched myself.

For creative people of any ilk, that’s extremely important.  For one thing, it can keep your creativity rip-and-roaring, key to avoiding deathly boredom and staleness.  Professionally, it’s essential: writing just what you want, what you’re comfortable with, can really limit where you can sell your work.  That you love to write, say, erotic romances is fine and dandy but if you do then there will only so many places to show off, or publish, your work.

You want examples? Fine: I’m now on Facebook – we’ve already discussed that uncomfortable fact – but since I’ve written quite a few queer novels I’ve decided that my next one is going to be (you ready for this?) straight – and not just straight but with a ‘happy’ ending.  My short story work, too, has a tendency to be, let’s be honest here, bittersweet at best – so my next collection is going to be much more uplifting.  I’ve never written a play, so I’m planning on writing one sometime this year.  I’ve never written for comics – well, I wrote one – so I’m going to work on more.  Will these projects be tough?  Sure they will: but who knows what I may discover about myself and what I’m capable of?

Who knows, maybe even Facebook and I will become fast and good friends and will walk down the social media aisle together, skipping merrily and holding hands.

And if not … well, I tried.  There is nothing wrong with giving something a shot but then deciding it’s not for you.  Rejection, both internal as well as external, is part of a writer’s life.  There’s nothing wrong with it.  Trial and error is how we learn, how we grow.

Writers far too often think that the ‘names’, the celebrities, the legends sat down and created wonders of the written word, masterpieces of story, with no trials and tribulations. But – as I’ve said before – writers are liars and very few will admit that they might have been an overnight success … after failing for decades.

For example, take a look at the subtitle of this little piece: “Oh, how beautiful.” It comes from a wonderful quote by one of my favorite authors, Rudyard Kipling.  The whole thing reads: “Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.”

In other words, to bloom you have to work; you have to be brave and try new things, to push yourself, to challenge yourself personally and professionally – and, equally, you have to accept that periodically things just won’t work out.

Back to Mr. Kipling. Sitting on my desk is a reproduction of a letter he received after a submission to the San Francisco Examiner:a reminder not just to keep trying, to never give up, but that you have to be willing to face, and surpass, internal doubt, outside criticism.

The letter reads: “I’m sorry Mr. Kipling, but you don’t know how to use the English language.”

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

by | July 10, 2012 | | 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But do you need an agent?   

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

Frankly – not to sound like the old man on the hill – I’ve
had five of them, and not one of them has done me much good.  In fact, I consider a few of them to
have seriously slowed me down professionally.  This is not a good thing.

But if you still think you need an agent, keep in mind that getting
one – especially a good one – can be extraordinarily tough.  This brings me back to the beginning:
becoming a professional writer is intimidating, scary, and confusing – now more
than ever – and there are more than a few agents out there who will promise to
be your savior, teach you what you need to know, and guide your hand.

The proof though, is always, in the pudding.  If you decide to try to get an agent,
and
if you get one, and if you think you have a good one, always keep an eye wide, wide
open on what they are really, actually, doing for you.

A wise writer friend of mine said that a writer should never
forget that an agent works for the writer – not the other way
around.  So if you find yourself
frustrated, disappointed, or finding more publishing opportunities than your
agent then it might be time to move on.

Will literary agents become extinct – especially when huge
book deals are being made by everyone from twitters to bloggers to little ebook
authors?  I don’t know. 

But I do know that it’s important to keep
a level head and not let the scary world of writing and publishing make you run
into the arms of an anyone – an agent or someone like them – who promises to
be a hero but, instead, becomes a hindrance. 

Scary? 
Yes.  Frustrating?  Absolutely.  But with professional writing always work to keep a clear
head and – with an agent or not – pay attention to what’s really helping you …
and what isn’t.   

Confessions of A Literary Streetwalker: What Is Sex … And How Much?

by | June 10, 2012 | | 4 Comments

So let’s ask the question: what is sex – especially what is sex when it comes to writing erotica?

I will not begin with a dictionary definition … I will not begin with a dictionary definition … I will not begin with a dictionary definition …

It’s a very common misconception that erotica is supposed to turn the reader on … or to be exact, that it is supposed to be written to turn the reader on.

There’s a huge problem with that, though: mainly that you, as a writer, have no idea what turns a reader on. Even getting the cheat sheet of writing for a specific anthology there is no way you can possibly cover every permutation of that theme.

Let’s pick anal sex, just to be provocative: some people like anal sex people of the pure sensation receiving, or giving; while others have their desire mixed with domination or submission, etc., etc, etc.  Bottom line – sorry about that – you, as an erotica writer, cannot cover everything, erotically, when you write.

So how do you know how much sex to put into a story – and how to approach what sex you do put into a story?

What’s odd is that the answer is in two parts – but boils down to what you are writing: and, no, I don’t mean your audience but rather the format of what you are writing.

The good news first: when writing stories for a specific anthology you can be pretty easy-going with your erotic content – depending, of course, on the anthology editor’s demands according to their call for submissions.  This is because anthologies, by their nature, will have a wide range of content and approaches to whatever the book is about.

Back to butt sex: let’s say my antho is underway and I’m picking stories.  To give the book an appeal to a wide range of readers I, as the book’s editor, will pick stories that (you guessed it) cover all kinds of approaches and all kinds of levels.  That way whoever buys the book will, more than likely, get what they want in at least one or two of the stories.

Some of these might be very light, almost romantic, with only a bit of explicit content while others might be classic bumpy-grindy kind of stuff.  Typically if an anthology’s theme is … well, let’s say ‘deep’ for lack of a better word than a simple anal sex book, the editor will be looking for stories that say more than insert object A into anus B – and, that being the case, sex would be less important than being able to tell a good and touching story.

Personally, when I edit an anthology I always look for stories that tickle my mind more than my libido.  In fact (trade secret here) my most common reason for rejecting a story is that it is just porn: in other words the author is saying nothing but sex sex sex sex sex over and over again. Sure, this is just how I operate but a lot of anthology editors have confessed to me the same: the amount of the sex in an erotic story counts a lot less than the story itself.

So when you write a story, how much sex is really very (ahem) fluid.  But the game changes when you write a novel – but even then the amount, and kind, of sex you put into your book is totally up to you.

But keep in mind that publishers want books that are what they are supposed to be – by that I mean that if you are writing the wildest BDSM book ever written then you’d better have a lots of ropes, canes, Sirs, Mistresses, and the like.

The reason is obvious: a publisher wants to be able to market a book very specifically – and nothing annoys a publisher more than being told a book is not what the author says it is.  This doesn’t mean the publisher is a villain, but rather you, as an author, need to be honest about what the book is – and, most importantly, whom it is written for.

You cannot know what turns on your reader on, but if you are writing a book that is more story that sex then there’s nothing wrong with saying that your work is, say, erotic romance rather than hardcore when you submit it.

There are no formulas, no rules, no magic percentages of how much sex needs to be in an erotic novel – except for the obvious fact that you should know who will be reading your book and why.  A publisher who gets a book that is described as “literary but with several explicit BDSM sex scenes, written with female readers interested in romance with some hot male dominant spice” will make a book publisher very, very happy.  They may not be able to take it – for a wide variety of reasons – but at least they’ll know what they are looking at without having to read it cover-to-cover to find out what you wrote.

Similarly, you should be extremely aware of what that publisher or anthology editor cannot accept.  It’s always a good idea to be up front with anything (ahem) provocative about your story or novel (age of the characters, non-consensual sex scenes, beastiality, incest, violence, pee or poo, etc.) as many editors and publishers have issues with these kinds of things – and don’t react well to reading submissions that, halfway through, they realize they cannot accept.

So to answer the question of what is sex – or, more precisely, what is sex to an erotic writer – the quick and dirty answers are that for short stories you should approach your writing with thoughts of telling a good story that still meets the erotic demands of the anthology editor; and with novels you can write whatever you want … but be able to submit it knowing what you have written and the audience for who you have written it.

As with any genre, there are no absolutes as for what makes an erotic story erotic – but, also with any genre, try to develop what could be called literary street smarts: the intelligence to know that it’s not how much sex is in a story but being able to navigate the often stormy seas of what it means to be a professional writer.

Confessions of A Literary Streetwalker: “A Cookie Full Of Arsenic”

by | May 10, 2012 | | 2 Comments

Ever seen Sweet Smell of Success?  If you haven’t then you should: because, even though the film was shot in 1957, it rings far too much, and far too loudly, in 2012.

In a nutshell, Sweet Smell of Success (directed by Alexander Mackendrick from a script by the amazing Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman) is about the all-powerful columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster) – who can make or break anyone and anything he wants – and the desperate press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis), who loses everything for trying to curry favor with Hunsecker for … well, that Sweet Smell of Success.

So … 1957 to 2012.  A lot’s changed, that’s for sure.  But recently rewatching this, one of my all-time favorite films, gave me a very uncomfortable chill.  But first a bit of history (stop that groaning): you see, J.J. Hunsecker was based – more than thinly – on another all-powerful columnist, the man who once said, about the who he was, and the power he wielded as, ” I’m just a son of a bitch.”

There was even a word, created by Robert Heinlein of all people, to describe a person like this: winchell – for the man himself – Walter Winchell.

A book, movie, star, politician – anyone who wanted success would do, and frequently did, anything for both Walter and his fictional doppelganger J.J. Hunsecker.  Their power was absolute … even a rumor, a fraction of a sentence could mean the difference between headlines and the morgue of a dead career.  As Hunsecker puts it to a poor entertainer who crossed him: “You’re dead, son. Get yourself buried.”

Welcome to 2012: we have iPhones, Ipads, Nooks, Kindle’s, 4G, Bluetooth, Facebook, Twitter … in many ways we’re just a food pill away from every futuristic fantasy ever put-to-pulp.  But there’s a problem … and it’s a big one.

I think it’s time to bring winchell back … not the man, of course, even if that were possible, but the word. Yes, a lot has changed from Walter and Sweet Smell of Success but, sadly, as the old cliché goes: “the more things change the more they stay the same.”

The Internet has altered – quite literally – everything, but in many ways the speed, and totality, of its change has made a lot of people, writers to readers to just-plain-surfers, desperate for benchmarks: a place or person to go to that, they hope, will be there in the morning.

For writers this often means an editor, site, or just another writer.  In the ‘biz’ these people are called names: meaning that mentioning by them seems to have a kind of rub-for-luck power for other writers – with the ultimate prize being (gasp) noticed by them.  Sadly, this make-or-break mojo is occasionally true – though a surprising large number of these “names” are only divine in their twisted little minds.

I’ve said it before and so, naturally, I have to say it again: writing anything – smut to whatever you want to create – is damned hard work: all of us writers put our heart and souls down on the digital page and then send it out into a far-too-frequently uncaring digital universe.  No writer … let me say that again with vehement emphasis … is better than any other writer. Sure, a few get paid more, have more books or stories published, but the work involved is the same – as is their history: name any … well, name and you will see a person who, once upon a time, was sitting in the dark with nothing but hopes and dreams.

Which is why these … winchells give me unpleasant flashbacks to Lancaster telling Curtis: “Son, I don’t relish shooting a mosquito with an elephant gun, so why don’t you just shuffle along?”

Honestly, I will get to the point: never forget that what you are doing, as a writer, is special and wonderful.  Yeah, you might be rough around the edges; sure, you may be years away from stepping out of the shadows and into the blinding light of being (gasp) a name yourself; but you deserve respect.

I have a simple rule.  Okay, it might be a little harsh but it keeps me going in the face of trying to get out there into the big, wide, and far-too-uncaring world: ignore me and I ignore you.

Facebook likes and comments, twitter responses, by the way, don’t count.  That’s not communication – at least not to me (not to sound like a crotchety old man).  If I write anyone – an editor, site, or just another writer – and I don’t get an answer then I wish you into the cornfield.  The same goes with rude responses … like the writer who asked me to promote her book.  I said that I would if she’d promote mine as well.  Quid pro quo, right?  She never wrote back – not even after a few polite suggestions for mutual exposure  … so I hope she likes popcorn.

Being rude, not answering messages, playing the “are you a name? If not then screw you” game: there is no reason for this behavior.  Never!

Instead of trying to suck to up names or support them and their sites with a pathetic fantasy that you, too, may
actually be seen by them, find some real, true, and good friends: people who will hold your hand when it gets dark and scary; who will bring you along no matter where they go; who understand the bumps in the road because they, too, are on the same path; who will understand kindness but also karma – that good begets good.

Being a winchell may taste good, at first: being able to consider yourself better than other writers, to associate with other names in the business, to be able to make – or break – anyone who want for whatever reason you have … but there’s a great Hollywood expression that rings in my head just as loudly as any line from Sweet Smell of Success:

Always be nice to the people you meet on the way up, because those are the very same people you’ll be meeting on the way back down.

In closing, remember that anyone, anywhere – name or not – who doesn’t treat you with at least professional equality, mutual respect, or just simple human politeness is, to quote from Sweet Smell of Success: “A cookie full of arsenic.”

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: Self Or Not?

by | April 9, 2012 | | 3 Comments

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

Now, with that out of the way…

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

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

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

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

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

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

It took finding a good publisher to change my mind … that and seeing the business from the other side.  While there are a lot of things that separate a good publisher from a poor one the most important one is that a good – and maybe even great – publisher understands the business.

Case in point: authors love to bitch about their covers – but a publisher that takes the time to look at what is selling, what isn’t selling, what distributors will and won’t accept, and creates a cover accordingly is actually doing the author a service.  Yes, the cover may not be an accurate scene from the book, but it – if it works – should tease and tantalize enough to get people to buy it.  By the way, since this is supposed to be about publisher versus self-publishing keep in mind that you would not know what sells and what doesn’t – by the way, the amazon best sellers list is not a good indication – and so will be operating pretty much in the dark.

Authors often work from ego – and there is nothing wrong with that – but far too often what they want, and what will actually sell, are
polar opposites.  They want to see their work like books they admire … but they also may be completely ignorant of the fact that while those books look nice they simply don’t leap off the shelves.

Being in the trenches of publishing, looking at the numbers myself, is very sobering.  Just take social networking.  For people in self-publishing it’s the end-all, be-all – you can’t succeed, they say, without it.  But while exposure is important, many of your FaceBook friends will not buy your book.  The people who will buy your book are looking for erotica they will enjoy – and if your cover, your marketing, your whatever, doesn’t speak their language then they simply won’t cough up the bucks.  It’s a sobering though that many bestselling erotica books are written by authors who don’t play the social networking game … at all.

Yes, when you self publish you have complete and total control – but that also means you have no access to a publisher’s experience:
you will have to do everything from scratch, from learning how to get your book on amazon, iTunes, etc. to dealing with cover art specs and ebook formatting.  Sure, when you self-publish you keep every dime – but you could very well spend it and more in time doing what a publisher does.

And marketing … I totally agree that publishers should do more of it, but publishers have never been good at that, even before the ebook revolution.  But even a little publicity from a publisher can work wonders: many authors are discovered not via advertising or marketing but because their book was put out by a publisher whose catalog had a best seller in it.

If you self-publish then you are a single voice yelling as loud as you can – and these days there are a lot of single voices yelling as loud as they can – and against this din a lot of readers, and reviewers, are turning a bit deaf.  It may be hard to hear but being with a publisher still carries a lot of weight when it comes to getting noticed.

Sure, if you’re a huge author then going the self-publishing route may make a lot of sense, but think of it this way: huge or not, with a publisher your mailing list, fans, and miscellaneous contacts will not be the only way people will hear about you and your book – and the cost of getting more would probably be the same as the bucks a publisher would take.

In the end, though, the decision is yours.  If I could leave you with anything, though, is that while there are many publishers out there worthy of scorn there actually are many that not only know what they are doing – though experience and observation – and who can do a lot for you.  Often their advice may be hard to take, but if you trust them they can be a great help – and perhaps the difference between writing a book that doesn’t sell … and one that does.

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: “Hey There, Big Boy–“

by | March 9, 2012 | | 2 Comments

Oh, dear, I’ve done it again. 

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

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

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

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

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

What’s made it even worse is that everyone has a
solution:  you should be on Facebook,
you should be on Twitter, you should be on Goodreads, you should be on Red Room,
you should be on Google+, you should be doing blog tours, you should be …
well, you get the point.  The
problem with a lot of these so-called solutions is that they are far too often
like financial advice … and the old joke about financial advice is still
true: the only successful people are the ones telling you how to be successful.

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

But, anyway, back to me.  One thing that’s popped up a lot lately has been people
telling me that I’ve crossed a tasteful line in my little publicity stunts –
that somehow what I’ve been doing does a disservice to me and my work.

Yeah, that smarts. 
But hearing that I also have a rather evil little grin on my face: for
what I’ve done is nothing compared to what other writers have done.

Courtesy of Tony Perrottet of The New York Times (“How
Writers Build the Brand“), comes more than a few tales of authors who
have done whatever they could – and frequently more than that – to get the word
out about their product.  Case in
point are these gems: ” In 1887, Guy de Maupassant sent up a
hot-air balloon over the Seine with the name of his latest short story, ‘Le
Horla,’ painted on its side. In 1884, Maurice Barrès hired men to wear sandwich
boards promoting his literary review, Les
Taches d’Encre. In 1932, Colette created her own line of cosmetics sold
through a Paris store.”

Ever hear of a fellow by the name of Hemingway?  Well, Ernest was no stranger to GETTING THE
WORD OUT.  A master of branding, he
worked long and hard not just to get noticed but become the character that
everyone thought he was – to the point where we have to wonder where the
fictional Ernest began and the real Hemingway ended.

Then there’s the tale of Grimod de la Reynière (1758-1837),
who turned the established idea of “wine and dine to success” by
staging a dinner in celebration of his Reflections
on Pleasure – though the guests were locked in until the next morning and, while
they ate, Grimod lavished the assembled with anything less that praise.  Outrage ensued – to put it mildly – but
his book became a bestseller.

One of my personal favorites, though, is Georges Simenon –
and not just because he lived in a rather exotic arrangement with his wife and
claimed to have made love to over 10,000 women – but because he’d planned a
stunt to write a novel in 72 hours while in a hanging glass cage in the Moulin
Rouge – with the audience encouraged to choose the book’s characters, title,
and more.  While Georges sadly
didn’t carry out his plan that hasn’t stopped other writers from trying their
hands on the similar: Harlan Ellison, for instance, used to write in the front
window of the now-defunct Change of Hobbit Bookstore in Los Angeles. 

So should you lock yourself in a glass cage?  Lock in a party of critics?  Hire a hot air balloon?  Stick flyers on windshields?  Claim that another writer has stolen
your identity? 

Well, it’s up to you, but keep in mind what another author has
said – also known for his publicity: “There is only one thing in
life worse than being talked about,
and that is not being talked about.”

Oscar Wilde may
not have lived in the age of the Internet but he, like Hemingway, Grimod, Poe, Simenon,
Maupassant, and so many writers before or since, understood that it’s important
to stand out from the crowd. 

Certainly it’s risky, absolutely it can backfire, but at the
same time there is a very long tradition in authors having a total and complete
blast in getting the word out there about their work. 

Before I wrap this up, I want to say one final thing about
near-outrageousness and publicity. 
While I can’t speak for Hemingway, Grimod, and all the rest, I can
speak for myself: money would be nice, fame would be pleasant, but why I’ve
taken these risks and accepted the occasional backfires is because I’ve had a
blast writing these books and so I’ll do whatever it takes to get them out into
the world — and read. 

To quote Groucho
Marx: “Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a
dog it’s too dark to read.”

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker: The Four … Well, Five Deadly Sins. #5: Oh, Shit

by | February 9, 2012 | | 2 Comments

Back in the ‘good old days’ of smut – when pornographers had to haul their steaming piles of sexually explicit materials up four and five flights of stairs – a certain writer with a gleam of sexy potential in his mesmerizing green eyes … okay, I mean me … wrote a column for the fantastic Adrienne here at Erotica Readers & Writers called “Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker.”

Now one of the things I did was part of being a Streetwalker that really took off was a little series I did called “The Four Deadly Sins:” a playful examination of the things that smut writers could do but that could – to put it mildly – make their work a tough sell.

Fast forward a … decade?!  Sigh.  Anyway, I had to put aside my Streetwalker days for other things but that little verboten list has always been by my side, especially since I’m now an Associate Publisher for the wonderful Renaissance Books (which includes Sizzler Editions, our erotica line).  By the way [COMMERCIAL WARNING] my old columns are now in a dead-tree and ebook collection called How To Write And Sell Erotica [COMMERCIAL ENDS].

The reason why those “sins” stay with me is because one of my Associate Publisher things is to consider books for publication – and still, today, erotica writers don’t seem to understand that while, sure, you can pretty much write whatever you want there are still some things that will more-than-likely keep your work from seeing the light of day.  Just for the record, the four are underage (self-explanatory), beastiality (same), incest (ditto) and excessive violence (torture porn or nonconsensual sex).  But I’m here to talk about a new one that’s popped up … or ‘pooped out’ to blow the joke.

But before I (ewwww) get into the details, lemmie explain how things work – both back in the ‘good old days’ as well as the digitally enlightened world of 2012.  Just as back then, publishers may be the people you will be dealing with to get your erotic masterpiece out in the world but they are ruled by distributors.  Now a lot of that has changed from then to now – most of the classic ‘distributors’ have vanished (thank god) – but the spirit stays the same: while a lot of publishers may be able to sell their books on their own sites the big money comes from having their titles on sites like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, and so forth. 

So, most of the time, when a publisher says they can’t take your work because of the content what they mean is that they could but if they do they risk the (ahem) ‘displeasure’ of these new-distributors.  Now one or two getting kicked out is annoying but a lot of publishers are scared – and rightfully so – that if they have too many titles killed because of content their entire company could conceivably be blackballed … and that’s really bad news.

So, even though we authors and publishers may not like it, the sins are there for a fairly good reason.  But, like any rule, there are usually ways around some of them.  One that immediately comes to mind is the “consensual nonconsensual” trick where the submissive might resist at first but then realizes their true nature.  Other sins, though, are tougher to skirt.  Incest and underage are good examples, though with age-play and roleplay you can kinda, sorta, use them without a problem.  Beastiality is a queer duck (to use a bad joke) but the rule is usually that if it’s a fantasy animal or creature you can use it but if it’s a regular-critter you can’t.

Which gets me to the new sin.  As you probably could tell, this has to do with … now we might get a bit technical here … poo-poo or pee-pee.  The only reason I bring this up is that I’ve been more than a few manuscripts and short story submissions to anthologies that have a touch of a incontinence problem.  Not one to disparage anyone’s sexuality, but there are very few publishers out there that will risk taking anything that sexualizes such stuff.  I’ve personally had to request writers take it out of their submissions.  Again, not because I – or ‘we’ when I’m working as a Publisher – have a problem with it but just because the places where the book will be sold do. 

By the way, if you think that entering the world of self-publishing is a way to skirt all these sins think again: a lot of places look a lot more carefully at books that are not submitted by publishers – as many authors have sadly discovered.

As I’ve said before, an author can do whatever they want – that, after all, is the beauty of being a writer: the sky is not even close to the limit of the human imagination.  But, that being said, you also have to realize that even today, with the ebook revolution, if you want to get your work beyond your own website, you have to understand how things work. 

It’s not pretty but — like poo-poo — it’s a part of every writer’s life.

-M.Christian

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Risks

by | July 6, 2010 | | 2 Comments

“The shock of September 11 is subsiding. Each day adds distance. Distance diminishes fear. Cautiously our lives are returning to normal. But ‘normal’ will never be the same again. We have seen the enemy and the enemy is among us …. the publishers, producers, peddlers and purveyors of pornography.”

It didn’t take me long to find that quote. It came from an LDS Web site, Meridian Magazine, but I could have picked fifty others. In light of that kind of hatred, I think it’s time to have a chat about what it can mean to … well, do what we do.

We write pornography. Say it with me: por-nog-ra-phy. Not erotica – a word too many writers use to distance themselves, or even elevate themselves, from the down and dirty stuff on most adult bookstore shelves – but smut, filth … and so forth.

I’ve mentioned before how it’s dangerous to draw a line in the sand, putting fellow writers on the side of smut and others in erotica. The Supreme Court couldn’t decide where to scrawl that mark – what chance do we have?

What good are our petty semantics when too many people would love to see us out of business or thrown in jail? They don’t see any difference between what I write and what you write. We can sit and argue all we like over who’s innocent and who’s guilty until our last meals arrive, but we’ll still hang together.

I think it’s time to face some serious facts. Hyperbole aside, we face some serious risks for putting pen to paper or file to disk. I know far too many people who have been fired, stalked, threatened, had their writing used against them in divorces and child custody cases, and much worse.

People hate us. Not everyone, certainly, but even in oases like San Francisco, people who write about sex can suffer tremendous difficulties. Even the most – supposedly – tolerant companies have a hard time with an employee who writes smut. A liberal court will still look down on a defendant who’s published stories in Naughty Nurses. The religious fanatic will most certainly throw the first, second, third stone – or as many as it takes – at a filth peddler.

This is what we have to accept. Sure, things are better than they have been before and, if we’re lucky, they will slowly progress, but we all have to open our eyes to the ugly truths that can accompany a decision to write pornography.

What can we do? Well, aside from calling the ACLU, there isn’t a lot to we can directly do to protect ourselves if the law, or Bible-wielding fanatics, break down our doors – but there are a few relatively simple techniques you can employ to be safe. Take these as you will, and keep in mind that I’m not an expert in the law, but never forget that what you’re doing can be dangerous.

* Assess your risks. If you have kids, have a sensitive job, own a house, have touchy parents, or live in a conservative city or state, you should be extra careful about your identity. Even if you think you have nothing to lose, you do – your freedom. Many cities and states have very loose pornography laws, and all it would take is a cop, a sheriff, or a district attorney to decide you needed to be behind bars to put you there.

* Hide. Yes, I think we should all be proud of what we do, what we create, but use some common sense about how easily you can be identified or found: use a pseudonym and a post office box, never post your picture, and so forth. Women, especially, should be extra careful. I know far too many female writers who have been stalked or Internet-attacked because of what they do.

* Keep your yap shut. Don’t tell your bank, your boss, your accountant, your plumber, or anyone at all, what you do. When someone asks, I say I’m a writer. If I know them better, I say I write all kinds of things – including smut. If I know them very, very, very well, then maybe I’ll show them my newest book. People (it shouldn’t have to be said) are very weird. Just because you like someone doesn’t mean you should divulge that you just sold a story to Truckstop Transsexuals.

* Remember that line we drew between pornography and erotica? Well, here’s another: you might be straight, you might be bi, but in the eyes of those who despise pornography you are just as damned and perverted as a filthy sodomite. It makes me furious to meet a homophobic pornographer. Every strike against gay rights is another blow to your civil liberties and is a step closer to you being censored, out of a job, out of your house, or in jail. You can argue this all you want, but I’ve yet to see a hysterical homophobe who isn’t anti-smut. For you to be anti-gay isn’t just an idiotic prejudice, it’s giving the forces of puritanical righteousness even more ammunition for their war.

I could go on, but I think I’ve given you enough to chew on. I believe that writing about sex is something that no one should be ashamed of, but I also think that we all need to recognize and accept that there are many out there who do not share those feelings. Write what you want, say what you believe, but do it with your eyes open. Understand the risks, accept the risks and be smart about what you do – so you can keep working and growing as a writer for many years to come.

Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker – The Four Deadly Sins, Part 4: Violence

by | May 27, 2010 | | 0 Comments

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

#

In regards to the last of erotica’s sins, a well-known publisher of “sexually explicit materials” put it elegantly and succinctly: “Just don’t fuck anyone to death.” As with the rest of the potentially problematic themes I’ve discussed here, the bottom line is context and execution: you can almost anything if you do it well – and if not well, then don’t bother doing it at all.

Violence can be a very seductive element to add to any genre, let alone smut, mainly because it’s just about everywhere around us. Face it, we live in a severely screwed up culture: cut someone’s head off and you get an R rating, but give someone head and it’s an X. It’s kind of natural that many people want to use some degree of violence in their erotica, more than likely because they’ve seen more people killed than loved on-screen. But violence, especially over-the-top kind of stuff (i.e. run of the mill for Hollywood), usually doesn’t fly in erotic writing. Part of that is because erotica editors and publishers know that even putting a little violence in an erotic story or anthology concept can open them up to criticism from all kinds of camps: the left, the right, and even folks who’d normally be fence-sitters – and give a distributor a reason not to carry the book.

One of the biggest risks that can happen with including violence in an erotic story is when the violence affects the sex. That sounds weird; especially since I’ve often said that including other factors are essential to a well-written erotic story. The problem is that when violence enters a story and has a direct impact on the sex acts or sexuality of the character, or characters, the story can easily come off as either manipulative or pro-violence. Balancing the repercussions of a violent act on a character is tricky, especially as the primary focus of the story. However, when violence is not central to the sexuality of the characters but can affect them in other ways it becomes less easy to finger point – such as in noir, horror, etc – where the violence is background, mood, plot, or similar without a direct and obvious impact on how the character views sex. That’s not to say it isn’t something to shoot for, but it remains one of the harder tricks to pull off.

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

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

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

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

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

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