Lately, our TV and computer screens have been filled with warnings about COVID-19. “Stay indoors!” say all sane heads of state and medical experts. Theresa Tam, Chief Public Health Officer of Canada, has openly said she intends to be an “earworm” and “broken record” on this subject.

I’m somewhat surprised that no one has suggested replacing dating life (including open relationships) with masturbation. Why not? Apparently self-stimulation boosts the immune system, and it obviously doesn’t result in unwanted pregnancies or further the spread of sexually-transmitted diseases.

No amount of social isolation can prevent people from masturbating. Even couples who are isolated together could probably use some alone-time to vary their routine.

In the aftermath of the “Me Too” movement, when some men are claiming to be confused about what women want (when will this question be retired?), masturbation could be considered the ultimate example of joyfully enthusiastic sex. No one (who isn’t a porn star) masturbates simply to keep a job or to avoid worse treatment by someone else.

If the standard way to approach another person for sex included the questions “Would you like to fool around?” and then “How would you like to fool around?” or “What do you like?” misunderstandings could be avoided.

The fact that women masturbate, combined with the fact that most women, when asked, will complain about unwanted sexual attention (harassment or abuse) can be taken to mean that sex, per se, is not the problem. Most people like sex in some form. Anyone who claims to be bewildered by women’s objections to being groped in an office should consider the differences between that kind of sexual attention and the kind that can be safely given to oneself in private space, the kind which doesn’t damage one’s job performance, employment status, reputation, or self-image.

So why is masturbation not being promoted as an almost miraculous cure for numerous ills?

Consider the departure of Dr. Joycelyn Elders from her position as Surgeon-General of the U.S. in 1994. She was the first African-American woman in that post, and she was fired for an increasingly sensible series of comments about sexual health that included support for reproductive choice (or against “fetishizing fetuses”), and an ultimate punch line that masturbation should be MENTIONED in public school sex-ed as a sexual option which is safer than sex with other people. (She could have added that this is especially true if you are a horny fifteen-year-old whose likeliest sex partner is another kid in your grade.) When this comment was greeted with a storm of protest, Elders clarified that she never advised teachers to tell students HOW to masturbate, only that it was a viable alternative to experimenting with someone else.

At that point, President Bill Clinton asked her to resign, probably because he thought she was alienating some of his voter-base. Oh, the irony.

When I googled the term “masturbation,” I found an encouraging series of on-line articles which assure the reader that it is a normal, healthy activity. Luckily, medical authorities are no longer warning the public that masturbation leads to a loss of “vital fluid” and can result in death. This belief reached its peak in the mid-Victorian Age, or about 1850, but it was included in medical literature about sex as late as the 1930s.

In the midst of all the articles that quietly accept masturbation as simply one sexual activity out of many, here is the official Catholic warning:

“Masturbation is the act or practice of the self-stimulation of one’s sexual organs. It is usually done with the goal of achieving sexual climax, sexual gratification, or the release of sexual tension. Although masturbation exists among both males and females, it is generally considered more common among men than women (Leitenberg et al. 1999, 87-98). Although the term mutual masturbation is used in reference to mutual acts of sexual stimulation, the following discussion considers masturbation only according to its more common meaning: namely, the self-stimulation of the sexual organs.

The Church’s Teaching

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) teaches that the sexual function is meant by God to be enjoyed in “the total meaning of mutual self-giving” (CCC, n. 2352) within the marital relationship of a man and a woman. The Church understands the purposes of sexuality to be the begetting of children and the mutual pleasure for building the couple’s unity. Therefore, any deliberate activation of the sexual function outside the proper state of marriage and the purposes noted is seriously inordinate; if done voluntarily and knowingly, it is sinful. Within marriage such self- or mutual-stimulation is moral only when in some way it prepares for or completes a natural act of sexual intercourse.”

Here is the link:

https://www.catholiceducation.org/en/marriage-and-family/sexuality/masturbation.html

So there you have it: masturbation is considered sinful because all sexual desire is supposed to be channelled into sex within heterosexual marriage for the purpose of begetting children. Never mind whether you’ve had sixteen already. If you really can’t afford yet another pregnancy, you’re simply supposed to abstain from sex altogether.

I’ll leave you to consider whether this policy leads to personal happiness or social harmony in a world which is already overcrowded, and in which providing the necessities of life for even one child is impossible for some people.

A documentary on the subject with a catchy title (“Sticky”) was made in February 2016, and it explores the silencing of Dr. Elders to placate conservative voters. It also includes the endorsement of masturbation by several celebrities, which undoubtedly confirms the opinion of some concerned parents that the Hollywood film industry is a bad influence on impressionable children.

I’m tempted to quibble with the title of this film on grounds that in my experience, self-lubrication is actually more slimy (like the raw contents of an egg) than sticky like candy or sugary soft drinks. However, that’s a small quibble.

Here is one anonymous reviewer’s summary of Sticky: A (Self) Love Story, directed by Nicholas Tana:

“STICKY follows one filmmaker’s attempt to understand why masturbation is something most everyone does, but few like to admit to doing. Shamed as a child by fellow students through interviews with sexologists, authors, religious figures, porn stars, and entertainers, what’s so wrong with masturbation? The film takes a hard look at our touchy relationship with touching ourselves throughout history, and explores the negative ways in which masturbation is portrayed in the media. From the FBI study linking compulsive masturbation to serial killers, to the tragic death of a child who committed suicide after being caught masturbating, STICKY pulls no punches in exploring a subject that touches us all.”

Here is a link to the trailer:

Trailer: m.youtube.com/watch?v=AxfVS_z1JX4

(Sorry I lack the technical skills to embed a snippet here.)

I’m tempted to follow up with an excerpt on self-love from one of my own stories, but this post is probably long enough already. I hope I’ve provided some food for, um, thought.

I’ll just let you go do something even more stimulating than reading the ERWA blog.

Every writer has a special place where they rendezvous with their muse. Some find inspiration by writing at their favorite coffee bistro. Some may seek it under a shady tree in the park, surrounded by nature’s glory. Others might opt for the comfort of their bed, where they can sit cross-legged with their keyboards and pound out sultry tales while nibbling on bon-bons and sipping hot cocoa.

My own creative space is a spare bedroom in my house that I converted into a home office. When people visit, they often mistake it for Fred Sanford’s junk yard, but everything in there has a purpose. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I have an old desk that’s been in my family for years, with several stacks of papers that I know were important once upon a time. The walls around it are adorned with posters from some of my favorite movies, along with awards I’ve won and obscure artwork that I found interesting.

There’s a bookcase filled with old paperbacks I’ve had for years but just can’t part with. They include the complete works of Mickey Spillane, Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, among others. I have reference books, such as The KISS Guide to the Kama Sutra, an English-to-Spanish dictionary, Roget’s Thesaurus, and Romance Writing for Dummies. I didn’t say I had all the answers. There’s also a dog-eared copy of The Godfather that I’ve read so many times, the pages are falling out.

Research is important when you write atmospheric thrillers set in exotic locations, and I strive for accuracy. To that end, I have a credenza where office supplies share space with things I’ve brought back from my travels. These include photo albums, maps, tourist brochures, and copies of local newspapers. I often refer to these things when I’m trying to set a mood or accurately describe a location. When I’m writing about a sunset over the Florida Bay, it helps to look at some of the pics I took for inspiration. The maps and brochures are invaluable when I want to feature a landmark, but can’t remember where it’s located or exactly what it looks like.

Earlier, I mentioned my collection of paperbacks. A few years ago, I found some at a yard sale that were written in the early 1960’s. These were the ones you’d find on a rack in the drug store that sold for 25 or 50 cents. Can you imagine the royalties on a book that goes for half a buck? No wonder the writers were called starving artists! I read a few of these steamy potboilers to get a sense of what people were into back then, when censorship was still holding sway. The titles alone were enough to push boundaries. They include such classics as Station Wagon Wives, Nude in the Mirror, Nude in the Sand (probably a sequel), Suburban Sin, Strip the Town Naked, and The Lady is a Lush. That last one sounds like a Sinatra tune.

And the tag lines they used to entice readers! Get a load of these:

“The shocking portrait of a pretty wife who fell victim to the soft and corrupt passions of another woman.”

“She showed men the way—the wrong way!”

“A novel of women who trade husbands, of men who borrow wives!”

“The full, terrifying story of a woman trapped by the desperate demands of her body.”

“A man, a woman, and a bottle. John and Mary sought escape through alcohol and sexual excesses.”

“Sex and savagery in the advertising jungle.”

“They knew each other’s bodies—but not each other’s names!”

Most of these books would be considered politically incorrect today, and I’m not advocating for a return to this type of storytelling. If there was a woman’s point of view in any of them, I missed it. These were clearly written for the suburban Martini crowd, the folks who populate old Rat Pack movies and episodes of Mad Men. I doubt that Harriet Nelson read any of these, but Ozzie may have perused a chapter or two while she was at the PTA meetings.

So…what’s in your playpen?

By Ashley Lister

Further to the vow I made last month, to plot and structure the story that I’ve been busily not writing, I think I’ve now reached an impasse.

In How to Become a Successful Author, Russell Nohelty shrewdly points out that ‘not every idea needs to be made.” I read this point several times, not sure I’d previously considered such a dramatic approach to creativity. It has always been my personal policy, with every idea to enter my tiny mind, that I needed to work on until it is successfully written, polished and published.

But Nohelty’s comment hit a chord. He explains that “ideas are like petulant children,” because of the way they demand your attention. He goes on to explain that one of the most important skills to learn as a creator is which idea to develop and which idea to ignore.

On reflection, I can see this doctrine of judicious pruning is something I’ve accepted in several other areas of my life. I’ve cut down on jogging in the park because it’s a high impact activity that wrecks my knees and ankles. I can achieve the same levels of cardiovascular exercise in the gym on machines such as the cross-trainer or the stair-mill without making my joints hurt like I’ve been involved in a remake of Misery.

Similarly, whilst I can appreciate it would be a great idea to combine my favourite flavours into a sandwich, so that I can consume something that satisfies my desire for sweet and savoury treats, I have been sufficiently prudent not to treat myself to a chocolate and bacon sandwich.

Which means, the current WiP is going to be pigeon-holed and I’m going to focus on something more worthy of my time.

I suppose there have been clues that this step was necessary. I would sit in front of the PC, open the latest version of the story I was trying to write, and then immediately stand up and walk to the kitchen to get a beverage or snack.

And then there have been evenings when I’ve sat down at the WiP, told myself I need to get on with it, and then yawned and spent an evening with Netflix. I should have seen that displacement activity as a warning.

So, this month’s firm decision is that, to go forward, I need to abandon the current WiP. I’m not deleting it. I’m simply putting it on hold whilst I work on something that needs to be made. And I’d sincerely like to thank Russell Nohelty for his astute advice.

Ash

Image by Klaus Hausmann from Pixabay

The ERWA Email Lists are now back on-line. Thanks for your patience!

By Tim Smith

I have an ongoing argument with a friend over the use of language in literature. We both write contemporary erotic romance, but we approach the job differently. I like to treat my readers to steamy sensuality and extensive foreplay on the way to a hot finish. He prefers to throw in every vulgarity he can think of and get it over with in two paragraphs. I’m not saying his method is wrong, and apparently there’s a market for that kind of writing, because he sells more books than I do. On the flip side, he’s also been banned from a couple of major e-book sites because of his word choices.

There are a few words I don’t like to use when writing sex scenes as a general rule. One is the “F” bomb, because I think some writers overuse it for shock value, and it doesn’t really add anything to a realistic romantic encounter. I say that because not many women have used that word with me during sex, unless it was followed by “off” or “you.” I’m not averse to using it in dialogue when writing a heated argument between two characters (as in “Go f*** yourself”), but I use it sparingly to make it more effective.

Another is a word that refers to a part of the female anatomy (begins with “c,” rhymes with “hunt”), because I’ve heard from readers who find it offensive. I conducted a survey on a few chat boards to see how people felt about this, and the results indicated that many consumers were put off by it. I’m in this business to win readers, not lose them.

Here’s where it gets tricky. How do I depict a hot sexual encounter without using offensive language or resorting to purple prose? There are many euphemisms for body parts and intimate acts, but there’s the danger of overusing them. It forces me to be creative, making my point without being crude. Here’s an example from one of my romantic spy thrillers, Memories Die Last (Nick Seven Book One):

Nick stood and approached Felicia. He pulled her close and ravenously kissed her, his tongue challenging hers to a passionate duel. She rubbed his shoulders and back then moved down to slip her hands under the elastic waist of his shorts, kneading his butt. Nick caressed her firm breasts then ran his palms along her torso. Her perfume and natural scent acted like an instant aphrodisiac, turning him into an animal. Felicia put her arms around his shoulders, hoisted herself up and wrapped her long legs around his waist, bringing her naked groin in contact with the bulge forming in his shorts. Nick kissed her more deeply, probing her mouth while she did the same to him. He moved his hands down to her firm ass and rocked against her, getting harder the longer they dry humped.

He carried Felicia into the bedroom and gently deposited her on the bed. He slipped off his shorts and lay next to her to resume his kissing and fondling. Felicia placed both hands on either side of his face, pulled his lips to hers and rammed her tongue into his mouth. Nick’s hand went to her breast to pinch and tweak her nipple until it was as firm as a gumdrop. Her hand went to his groin, stroking him to full hardness. Nick ran his hand along her belly then slid his fingers into her, making her wetter. Felicia’s breathing rate picked up the longer he played with her, and she stroked him faster.

I’m put off by the opinion some people offer that erotic romance is merely “porn with a plot.” There’s a lot more to it than that and if it’s done well, it shows the most natural progression in a relationship. As evidenced by my friend’s writing that I refenced above, though, apparently there is still a market for what we used to call “one-hand books.” I don’t really care for gratuitous sex when I read a romance. That makes me think the writer ran out of ideas and thought “I don’t know what to have these people do next, so let’s throw in some hot sex!”

And that’s porn with a plot.