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Is It Good Enough?

by | March 6, 2019 | | 4 Comments

By Ashley Lister

Without wishing to sound like a neurotic writer, constantly begging for acceptance and validation, I think the question at the top of this blog post is one that we often ask ourselves: is it good enough?

I’m not talking about the worries we all have over our creativity. We have an idea for a novel or story. We love the idea. But then we begin to worry that it’s been done before. Invariably, because the nature of story gets the comparable from the parable, we realise our idea is similar to something else. And a lot of writers step away from the good idea at that point, bleakly confident that there is no place in the world for their slant on creativity.

These sorts of doubts are commonplace and are a typical part of the insecure writer’s toolkit. Originality is an abstract concept. Even if we’re so original we write an erotic story that describes a new and previously unchartered method of sexual congress, there will be readers out there who dismiss our genius as, “a horny story about a couple getting it on.”

Here I’m talking about the worries we have once we’ve produced a piece of fiction. Is it good enough for the marketplace? Is it good enough to be worth troubling an editor? Is it good enough to meet the needs of a readership?

Unlike those forms we can complete online, which tell us that we’re 58% of the way through the content, and there are only 212 questions left, there are no convenient guides that tell us when a story is ready for its audience. Because of the solipsistic nature of writing it’s common that the only person who knows when a story is ready is the person who wrote it. And a lot of us have barely convinced ourselves we’re capable of writing a story, let alone understanding when it’s ready to be published.

So, I thought it would be helpful to mention some of the tell-tale signs which let us know a story is ready for publication.

1. This is probably the most important one: are you happy with what you’ve written? You finished your story a fortnight ago. You’ve allowed a little distance between yourself and the text you produced. Now, returning to the story with fresh eyes, you’ve had a chance to read it and answer this question: are you happy with what you’ve written?
This is the point where you should be making sure it tells the story you wanted to tell. The characters are the characters you wanted to see in this story, and the whole piece has the cohesive feel you envisioned when the idea first struck.

2. Does this story do what was asked for in the Call for Submissions (CfS)? If you’re writing for a CfS, or to the remit of an editor or publisher, does the story you’ve produced do what they wanted? Is the word count correct? Does the vocabulary match other titles from this publishing house? Or, for example, if the story asked for steampunk themed stories, is your story sufficiently steampunk, or does that content need to be developed in the edit? If the story was for an anthology of lesbian vampire stories, are the main characters in your narrative lesbian? Is there some suggestion of vampirism?
I’m not suggesting any of us make these latter sorts of mistake regularly, but I do know editors who have received futuristic science-fiction stories when they’ve been asking for Victoriana, so I believe it’s always a point worth making.

3. How close is the deadline? I’m not saying this to be brutal or callous but, if you’ve been working on this story for the past six months, and the deadline is midnight tonight, the thing is ready to send. Stick it to an email and dump it in the editor’s inbox.

4. What do your beta-readers think? No man is an island (except for the Isle of Man) and a second set of eyes is always useful to appraise the manuscript we’re producing. If you’ve had a beta-reader or two go over your story, and they’ve given a green light, it’s time to hit send.

The French essayist, Paul Valéry, said, “A poem is never finished only abandoned.” This is a helpful way of avoiding responsibility for any of the poems we’ve ever written, but it’s an unhelpful approach to gauging whether or not our material is ready for the marketplace.

I sincerely believe, if a writer considers his or her responses to the four questions above, they’ll be a step closer to knowing whether or not now is the correct time to publish. And, if you have any other ideas for how we can tell when a manuscript is ready, I’d love to see them in the comments box below.

Ash

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Hooked On Strange News

by | February 28, 2019 | | 4 Comments

I’m sick this late February day. Sick with your stereotypical winter head cold. It’s in the tens outside and pretty windy. The last thing I feel like doing is going outside. So, what to do?

Read, of course. Watch TV. Sleep. And look for strange news stories just for fun.

For example, there is a rare shark population off the coast of Cape Cod right now. I wouldn’t worry too much about it since it’s like 10 degrees outside and no sane person (surfers not included) would want to be out in that. But still. Last year was the first fatal shark attack in Massachusetts since 1936. The rise in shark sightings could have something to do with rising seal populations and closed fishing areas, according to one person commenting online. This is the home of the movie “Jaws”, so sharks are often on people’s minds around here at the Fourth of July.

In an “Idiots Selling and Buying Drugs Story”, a man broke into his cousin’s home and robbed the four inside after accusing them of selling him rabbit chow instead of marijuana.

An Aussie man fleeing from police was felled by his own underwear when it got caught in a fence he was trying to jump. Police found him dangling upside down on the six foot fence. I thought I saw that only in Warner Brothers cartoons.

A man who played Good Samaritan for buying $540 worth of Girl Scout cookies to help the girls get out of the cold and rain that day was arrested for alleged drug distribution and fraud. So how many boxes of cookies is that? Five? Six? 🙂  The cookie purchase was unrelated to the distribution and fraud charges, but it was still very strange.

Best Life Online has declared the most boring town in each state. I’m from Maryland, and Easton won mention. It’s on the Eastern Shore, I think. I live in Massachusetts, and Barnstable won the title. I’ve never been there. Must now go to see how boring it is. It’s rather hopping for  a boring town – 40 entertainment spots and 196 hotels and restaurants.

An article linking from that one named the most famous celebrity from each state. Babe Ruth for Maryland. Mark Wahlberg for Massachusetts. Most of the celebrities are modern.

And finally, Pornhub porn star Mia Khalifa had plastic surgery to reinflate one of her boobs after she was struck by an ice hockey puck. The puck was moving at 80 MPH.

This is how I spend sick time when I’m not sleeping, reading, or watching TV. I look up strange news online for the entertainment value. I’m going to go back to bed now after I take some NyQuil. I hope to feel better soon. Until then, it’s strange news all the way.

———

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.

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

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I’m Afraid to Come Out of the Closet!

by | February 24, 2019 | | 1 Comment

About a week ago, I released my latest box set, Swinger’s Box Set, for pre-order on Amazon. Who! Hoo! Then the very next day Amazon kicked me in the cojones and threw me into the dungeon. One Day, people!

Lisabet was right, and my original cover crossed the line for Zon. Why I asked myself? Everyone was pretty much dressed and in the bathroom, the cleanest place in the house. Surely, nothing nasty ever goes on in the bathroom?

Quickly, I reworked my cover with a more bland and non-threatening image. After resubmitting, my rating was switched to “Safe” within a couple of hours.

It was almost as if someone was sitting at their keyboard, ready to click Safe as they waited for my submission and give me absolution for my previous sins.

Up, Down, Yes, No! was I in some type of manic state where one day everyone is out to get me and the next its Mom and apple pie? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that they’re not out to get you.

Then to top it off, the big guy upstairs, no not Trump, but the big, big guy throws Sin City into the freezer. For the first time in ten years, its snowed in Las Vegas and two days in a row.

The girls all abandoned their short skirts and switched to pants as the weather hovered in the thirties with a serious wind chill. Instant downer!

I turned to Fox News and confirmed that global warming was, in fact, a hoax and fake news, but even after showing the outside world the news on my laptop, it still hasn’t warmed up. Confused and upset I’ve retreated to the comfort of my desktop as the warming glow of my twin monitors is likely giving me measles, brain cancer, or berry berry.

As you’ve likely read about, recent changes in regulations have caused problems with the porn industry and erotica in general. First, Tumblr was purchased by a goody two shoes company who felt that nudity and sex had no place in their organization. A large number of blogs in Tumblr instantly were censored and yanked. No longer are you able to see pictures of your next door neighbor’s wife with the milkman.

Then the thought police in Washington tweaked the rules making companies who hosted sites that exposed the naughty bits to be responsible for the content posted by their downstream sites.

Fearing the loss of their licenses, more and more web hosting sites are clamping down on perverts like me. I’m going to have to stop wearing my raincoat to better blend in with my local elected officials.

Over the last few weeks, it seems that many of the blogs dedicated to authors of erotic material have sprouted numerous messages about censorship and the big thumb of the government pressing down on erotic author’s collective necks.

One of my favorite quotes is from Larry Flynt of Hustler magazine, “Freedom of speech doesn’t protect speech you like, it protects speech you don’t like.”

As the walls continue to close around authors of smut, like when Luke, Princess Leia, and crew were in the trash compactor, while movie watchers were trying to confirm that Princess Leia was, in fact, braless in the movie, we must not give up the fight.

 

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Thoughtcrime

by | February 21, 2019 | | 5 Comments

In January, I released the third book in my Vegas Babes erotica series, Sin City Sweethearts. This no-holds-barred erotic romp features a pair of fraternal twins, Marcie and Maddy, who come to Las Vegas to attend university and to escape from their overprotective family. They move into the apartment below Annie and Ted, a slightly older, recently married couple who have an open relationship. Annie and Ted undertake to initiate the two newcomers into the hedonistic, carnally-permissive lifestyle of Sin City. Needless to say, the twins are eager and attentive pupils who take their lessons to extremes even Annie and Ted didn’t predict.

In self-publishing this tale, I used the procedure I’ve adopted recently, setting the book up as a pre-order on both Amazon and Smashwords. This tactic means that by the time release day rolls around, the book will have purchase links on all the third-party platforms to which Smashwords distributes, such as BN and Kobo. In the past this has always worked like a charm.

With this book, though, I ran into problems, specifically with Kobo. On release day, more than a week after I submitted the book, there was no trace of the title on Kobo. I waited for another week. Still no Kobo link. Finally, I sent a support request to Smashwords.

I got a prompt and courteous response promising to investigate. After a couple of rounds of emails, I got the answer: Kobo had rejected my book because it violated their content standards.

What? I pointed out that the two previous volumes of the series, which are just as explicit, were available on the Kobo platform. The diligent customer service rep from Smashwords dug further and came back with the news that the following lines had caused the book to be banned:

“Holy Shit! Was Marcie licking her own sister? That thought, along with the blonde’s oral talents, pushed the ignition button.”

Apparently this was considered as breaking their rule against depiction of incest.

Note that there is no actual incest going on in this scene. Ted has Maddy sitting on his lap, bouncing up and down on his cock. Here’s the context, the paragraph preceding the offending sentences:

“Argh…” he sputtered. The sensation was almost too intense. Marce backed off a bit, letting him breathe. When Maddy raised her body off his shaft, Marcella swiped her tongue along the exposed length. He arched up to bury himself in the brunette’s juicy passage. The blonde’s daring tongue followed, keeping contact with his rod until it was completely hidden in Maddy’s cleft.

In short, Sin City Sweethearts was banned from Kobo because one of the characters was thinking about incest, and finding that thought arousing.

We’ve apparently reached the state described in George Orwell’s 1984, where merely thinking about forbidden things is considered a crime.

Arousal begins in the mind. Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Our characters’ sexual journeys originate in their fantasies, before they take any action. If Kobo’s rules were consistently applied, our characters’ hottest, most taboo fantasies would become unpublishable. This includes not only incest fantasies but also rape fantasies, golden showers, enemas, fantasies about dogs or horses…

After twenty years in the business, I still don’t understand the double standards that govern sexually explicit fiction as opposed to other fiction. If authors can write about murder, terrorism or war, why the special rules for sexual activities? But even if I’m willing to exclude some categories of sex acts from my stories (and there are some actions I’d be loathe to write about), must I censor my characters’ thoughts as well?

I suppose that Kobo might argue that there is no distinction in fiction between real actions and character fantasies, in that both exist only in the imagination of the author and the reader. I think this is wrong-headed. In reality, and in fiction, humans have control over what they do, but not what they think. If I’m attracted to my brother, I’m not going to do or say anything to reveal this situation, but that doesn’t make the attraction disappear.

In 1984, the supposed antidote to “thoughtcrime” is called “crimestop”.

The mind should develop a blind spot whenever a dangerous thought presented itself. The process should be automatic, instinctive. Crimestop, they called it in Newspeak.

He set to work to exercise himself in crimestop. He presented himself with propositions—’the Party says the earth is flat’, ‘the party says that ice is heavier than water’—and trained himself in not seeing or not understanding the arguments that contradicted them.

My brother is not attractive. I don’t find that horse’s schlong arousing. I have no interest in watching two eighteen year old sisters pleasure one another.

Doesn’t seem to work for me…

The rep at Kobo suggested that they’d reconsider their decision if I modified the offending line. I thought about it. It’s not as though my sales are so high that I can afford to forgo listing on a popular platform. Indeed, I’ve been buying many ebooks for my own consumption from Kobo. I find their interface, their policies and their service far superior to the Mighty Zon.

Ultimately, though, I balked at the notion. I’m not willing to participate in this ridiculousness.

So you can buy Vegas Babes Books 1, 2 and 4 on Kobo, but not Book 3. I do hope some eager readers will bug them about this inconsistency.

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Raising the Dead: Your Story Doesn’t Suck… Necessarily

by | February 11, 2019 | | 10 Comments

So, you self-published a sex story. Wrote it yourself, edited it, slapped on a cover and uploaded it to the mighty Zon (that’s what those in the know call the big-boy of ebook publishing; get with the program, ‘kay?). Congratulations! And I mean that. It’s an achievement. You know how I know? Because it’s hard, and goddam it feels good (situation normal for us erotica folk). But I digress. Back to your sex story…

Then what happened?

You: It died.

Shit.

Or it sold a few copies and then died.

Or you ran a free promo, moved a few copies, then it died.

Or you dropped a wad of cash on a paid promo, moved a nifty fifty or so copies but didn’t cover costs, then it died.

Or…

Sense a pattern?

These are all symptoms of the same thing—a book that can’t find its market. Sounds simple, right? Oh, I wish. There’s a whole tree of possible causes—nay, a forest—and if you have the time and energy, we can work through them. It’s a valuable exercise, because the only thing worse than pouring your heart into a book that tanks, is backing it up with a second.

In this and my next few Editing Corner blogs, we’ll look though a few of the reasons for stories tanking on Amazon, and techniques for breathing some new life into them.

Your story sucks

Whoa, whoa, don’t get your dander up, partner. It’s just a heading. And let’s face it, I was only saying what you were thinking, am I right?

It seems logical. Stephen King writes awesome books, and he sells them by the truckload. You sell no books at all, so therefore… (see the heading above—I don’t want to have to say it).

But it’s not true. Or at best, it’s not necessarily true.

Have you ever bought a crap book? Or loaned one from the library? Of course you have—we all have. How could that happen? It looked a lot like books you enjoy. The title sounded interesting—the kind of genre you often read. The blurb made it sound like the kind of rollicking tale that would promise hours of quiet reading bliss. The signs were all there, and like a trusting soul, you bought it. It just didn’t live up to it’s potential.

It was a crap book with good marketing.

Just because your book doesn’t sell, that doesn’t make it a bad book, because bad books still sell. If it sells and gets universally terrible reviews, or if it sells and then readers seek refunds, or they seek out your web page to tell exactly how shit it is, then you might have enough evidence to say it’s a bad book.

No sales just means bad marketing, not bad writing. Don’t get me wrong, your book might be a steaming dog turd, but you can’t draw that conclusion from a lack of sales.

The Holy Trinity of Self-Publishing

There are many things you can do improve sales, but doubling them won’t help if your current number is zero. Every single ebook sale is a three stage process.

  1. A reader needs to find your book.
  2. A reader needs to be interested enough to click your book.
  3. A reader needs to be enticed to buy your book.

Find…click…buy. Three steps. Would it surprise you to learn that apart from the manuscript itself, there are three key elements to marketing that you must nail in order to sell a single copy?

Those three things are Title, Cover, Blurb. They all matter. Miss one and you miss the sale.

The Importance of Being Searchable

A reader must be able to find your book. There are so many books out there; how do they find yours? In the first 30 days after publishing, your title will appear in the New Releases lists under whatever category you chose. Job done, right? But what happens after the first 30 days? Short of paid advertising, there are two organic ways readers will find your book:

  1. Also-Boughts: Several readers bought both your book as well as Attack of the Space Virgins. Good news – whenever anyone opens the Amazon page for Attack of the Space Virgins, they’ll probably get a little ad half-way down for your book. Free advertising! Awesome, right? Yes, but it only works if you already have sales, and readers still need to find Space Virgins (which might have tanked just as bad as yours), so it’s a chicken-egg scenario.
  2. Search Terms: When a reader types a query into the Amazon search bar (eg. “sci-fi virgin sex story”), Amazon will look for matching titles in its catalog, promoting the best matches to the top of the list. If you get your search terms right, this is how readers find your book. Or put more plainly: if you get your search terms wrong, this is why people can’t find your book.

Hung Alien Jocks Drill Astro-Cheerleaders

Amazon’s search algorithm is not published, but there are some known facts:

  • The Title is searched, along with the Sub-title and the Series Name. So, Attack of the Space Virgins: A Sci-Fi College Romance (Book 3 of The Mars Sluts Chronicles), is all fair game for searches.
  • The Keywords are searched. Amazon KDP allows you to list up to seven 50-character keywords that describe your ebook. Each keyword can contain many component words, and although you don’t need exact matches, the better the match, the higher you will appear in search results.
  • The Blurb is not searched, nor are the reviews. Don’t bother stuffing your blurb with keywords, it’s only there for your reader to read – more on blurbs at another time.
  • Popular, high-ranked books and new releases will appear higher in search results.

So, title (and keywords) are important. Why don’t we just title our books with keywords?

“Hung Alien Jocks Drill Astro-Cheerleaders” (A sci-fi college erom novel)

Nice. Subtle.

There’s art to subtlety in an ebook title, but—and this is important in erotica—it’s easy to be too subtle. If you’re writing stroke erotica, then it’s not a great leap of logic to surmise your target audience is horny and impatient. You’re going to find that kind of person pretty forgiving when it comes to dumbed-down book titles.

Belinda’s rules for title and keywords:

  • Catchy, subtle, cute – it’s all fine, but keep that shit to the top-level title only.
  • For erotica, add a sub-title that includes your top search term. If it’s a Menage book, get Menage in the title or sub-title. BDSM? Vampire Romance? Alpha Billionaire? Tentacles? Whatever the big-ticket kink, get it in the sub-title.
  • Mention the main kink in the sub-title in a way that unequivocally promises what you deliver. Eg. “Cheering the Mighty Ducks: A Sharing Romance” leaves too much to the imagination. “Cheering the Mighty Ducks: Shared by the Whole Team” is kinda unequivocal. It leaves gangbang readers in no doubt it will scratch their itch.
  • Do your research on Amazon’s Erotica Dungeon. There are an unpublished list of naughty words (like gangbang) that will get your title excluded from search results. This is called being “dungeoned”, and it makes it very hard to sell erotica.
  • For keywords, read successful books and web forums that address the same kink as your ebook. Find word combinations that speak to that kink—word combinations that will light a fire in your reader’s loins. Sex. Fuck. Dick. Tits. Pussy. Nobody will search on these terms—at least, not in isolation. They’re just not exciting. Spanking my boss’s wife. Fucking Daddy’s Best Friend. Feminized by Pirates. People search on this shit because it gets them off.
  • Reserve some of you keywords for Amazon’s Browse Categories. Some readers browse or filter by genre and category, so getting in the right ones can make your book more discoverable.

Are we Selling Yet?

If you’ve taken your dead or dying erotica and applied these principles, sexing up the title, spicing up the keywords, should you expect to instantly start selling more books?

You already knew the answer to that, and it’s “not necessarily”. Making your book discoverable is just the first step in the journey. Hopefully, now, you’re in a reader’s search results. Next time, we’ll talk about turning that into a click, and then turning the click into a purchase.

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Inspiration

by | February 6, 2019 | | 1 Comment

By Ashley Lister

A colleague got in touch with me the other day. He was sitting in front of a blank sheet, waiting for inspiration, and he wanted my advice: “I’m blocked,” he explained. “What should I do?”

My response was immediate: “Write a haiku.”

When it comes to physical exercise, we’re all sufficiently savvy to know that it’s sensible to warm up before running or pumping iron. If you start to run without having stretched your body into an appropriate state of limberness, then you court the danger of serious physical injury. If you start lifting weights without having stretched, then you could easily strain a muscle or tear something important.

And yet, when it comes to writing, a form of psychological exercise than can be as draining as a marathon and as challenging as any weightlifting competition, the idea of warming up with a brief exercise is invariably dismissed.

I know I’ve mentioned haiku on here before, but I do think the simplicity of the form is impressive. More importantly, I think the discipline that comes from writing a haiku, forcing oneself to focus on a clarity of image and a rigidity of syllabic expression, helps each of us to enter that special zone of focus that is needed for writing.

It’s a form of exercise that I try to use before each writing session. The concept is relatively simple. I need to write a single haiku before I can begin. This means I need to compose a three line poem where the first line contains five syllables, the second line contains seven syllables, and the final line contains five syllables.

Obviously there are variations on the haiku form, and there’s the distinction between a haiku and senryu that I tend not to worry about, but I stick with the traditional form because it best suits my needs.

This was a whimsical one I wrote the other morning:

I’m worried because
One of my balls is larger
Than the other two

It’s nothing special. But the syllable counting and making this quip in a specifically concise manner, was enough to get my mind into my personal zone of creativity.

My colleague got back to me. He’d written a haiku and then managed to get a few more pages down on his current WIP.

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Deal Breakers

by | January 31, 2019 | | 1 Comment

By Jean Roberta

I love historical drama, but as someone once said, the past is a foreign country. They did things differently there.

In a recent television spectacle featuring Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth I, the never-married queen is courted by the Duc D’Anjou, a brother of the King of France. Their marriage would make a good diplomatic alliance to help England resist a threatened Spanish invasion. Apparently to her surprise, Queen Bess finds that she has feelings for the Duc, beyond her desire to secure her nation and possibly give birth to an heir. The Duc is in his twenties while the Queen is in her forties, but the age gap doesn’t seem to bother either of them. He praises her beauty in charmingly-accented English. He tells her that he likes “pro-TEST-ants,” and that his Catholic faith is a private matter that wouldn’t have to be an issue in their relationship.

However, religion is a serious matter to the English Parliament, and no one in the Queen’s government wants her to marry a Catholic. The Queen could simply overrule all her advisors, including her long-term admirer, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who wanted to marry her for years, but who was repeatedly turned down. In the film version, Queen Bess claims that “Robin’s” status isn’t high enough to match hers, although the sudden death of his first wife (found dead at the foot of a staircase) and the rumours of murder that circulated afterward would have made it reckless for Bess and “Robin” to rush into marriage. For better or worse, she rejects the Duc d’Anjou as well.

So what were the real deal-breakers that prevented Queen Bess from marrying any of her suitors? The age gap between the Queen and the French Duc (especially if she hoped to produce an heir) isn’t shown as a problem for anyone, including the concerned bystanders. The traditional explanation for her persistently single state was that the Queen was “married to her people.”

The theme of “forbidden love,” expressed in secret trysts, is still a compelling subject in erotic romance. It’s hard to imagine an official barrier between two people who are attracted to each other that could really keep them from sneaking some time together. It’s also hard to imagine any difference which couldn’t be seen as a barrier.

Religious differences, formerly a deal-breaker, don’t seem to keep people apart the way they used to. Does this mean that human society has evolved to be more inclusive than in the past? Probably not. Marriages between cousins were considered desirable in some cultures in the past, especially if there was a fortune that could thereby be kept in the family. On the other hand, marrying one’s deceased wife’s sister was considered so incestuous (or squicky for some other reason) that it was outlawed in England in the Victorian Age. Huge age gaps (mostly older men with younger women, but sometimes the reverse) were accepted, but gaps in social class were not. (At least upper-class men didn’t marry the servants, although they were certainly welcome to, ahem, enjoy their company.)

Before the “Gay Rights” movement of the twentieth century, sexual relations between members of the same gender were considered “crimes against nature,” and punished in drastic ways if not kept secret. (Some secrets were really facts that everyone knew and no one mentioned aloud.)

We are all products of our time, whether we want to admit it or not. For Americans in my parents’ generation (born just after the First World War), racial separation was enforced both by “Jim Crow” laws, and by social traditions that generally kept racially-defined groups apart. A mixed-race relationship was a very big deal in that era, although there were a few exceptional couples who managed to stay together.

I doubt if anyone can honestly claim to be free of prejudice in all forms when it comes to sexual attraction. What are the deal-breakers that have made some people in your life seem attractive but inaccessible, or not attractive at all? I’m tempted to do a survey.

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Sexual Preference, Your Personalty, And Other Nonsense

by | January 28, 2019 | | 2 Comments

I found a fun article about how your Myers-Briggs personality influences your sexual preferences. Do you like anal? Sex toys? Multiple partners? Now, there’s a handy test to help you find out how wrong you are about what you thought was your sex life.

You may read about the survey here at Metro:

https://metro.co.uk/2019/01/12/personality-says-sexual-preferences-8336852/

It’s total nonsense but amusing nonetheless. I’ve taken the Myers-Briggs Personality Test before. I always end up INTJ – Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Judging. With an emphasis on Turbulent rather than Assertive.

I’m in good company when it comes to writers. Isaac Asimov, Jane Austen, Sylvia Plath, Emily Bronte and Sun Tzu are INTJs. There are even INTJ fictional characters including Sherlock Holmes, Professor Moriarty, Hannibal Lecter, Walter White, Gus Fring (what’s with all the criminal masterminds?) and Victor Frankenstein. I like how Holmes and Moriarty are both INTJs. Lecter and Agent Clarice Starling are also INTJs. Nice juxtaposition, like a yin/yang of cold and driven people.

I also come very close to the following:

INTP – Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Perceiving

INFJ – Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging

INFP – Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving

The difference between T/F and P/J is nearly 50% in my case. I break even enough to consider them.

INTJ is The Architect, the rarest of the results (2% of the population), especially when it comes to women. Only 0.8% of women are Architects.

According to this new sexual preferences/Myers-Briggs study, I supposedly love doggy style. I don’t. It’s too impersonal. I don’t like staring at the headboard while my man bangs away. It’s also too hard on my knees.

I also don’t like cowgirl, which I believe is another preference for INTJs. This may sound strange, but I don’t like being on top because I get cold. It’s also hard on my knees. I like to be buried under the blankets while I make love. I stay warm that way. I also feel overexposed when on top. It makes me feel very uncomfortable and vulnerable. I do like side-to-side. That works well for both of us.

If I go by my other possible test results, I have the lowest average number of sex partners (ha!). I counted my lovers and they came out to just over a dozen. I came of age in the go-go 1980s so that number may be considered low for that era. Heh heh. I also supposedly would masturbate the least. Not a chance. I love my sex toys. I used to test them and write reviews. Companies would mail them to me for free. I got some nice ones, too – JimmyJane and Lelo. They can cost in the hundreds. I have my favorites and I use them.

According to INFP, I’m difficult to satisfy in bed and am most likely to be mistaken about what I like in bed. That one is close enough to being true, although I don’t know if the study means I don’t know what I want or if it means my partners didn’t know what I wanted. The former is not true at all. The latter has certainly been true. My past lovers occasionally not so much didn’t know but didn’t care what I wanted. I wrote them off fast enough.

Here are the categories for the Myers-Briggs sexual preferences survey. Are you a match or did you laugh your ass off? Me? I laughed.

Logistician (ISTJ) – least likely to share what they want in bed

Advocate (INFJ) – masturbates the least

Architect (INTJ) – loves doggy style

Protagonist (ENFJ) – second most willing to use sex toys

Virtuoso (ISTP) – most willing to have a threesome and is submissive in bed

Consul (ESFJ) – will likely decline threesomes and anal sex

Mediator (INFP) – difficult to satisfy in bed and most likely to be mistaken about what they like in bed

Entertainer (ESFP) – least likely to experiment with someone of the same gender

Campaigner (ENFP) – most likely to experiment with someone of the same gender Entrepreneur (ESTP) – doesn’t really fancy using sex toys and easy to please in bed

Executive (ESTJ) – has the highest average number of lovers and is most satisfied sexually

Commander (ENTJ) – most willing to use sex toys, likes role play and bondage, and very dominant

Logician (INTP ) – lowest average number of sex partners

Defender (ISFJ) – least adventurous in bed

Debater (ENTP) – most willing to have anal sex

Adventurer (ISFP) – second most likely to be mistaken about what they like in bed

Take the Myers Brigg test here: https://www.16personalities.com

———

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.

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

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Beware, Rant Follows

by | January 24, 2019 | , | 3 Comments

Okay, I have to admit that I’m ticked off and it’s all Lisabet’s fault. Well its not actually Lisabet’s fault, she just wrote a blog post Consent and Complicity that got me fired up.

If you haven’t read it, take a minute and look it up. You should be able to click the link above to view it.

My problem is simply this, why are writers of erotica treated differently than writers of any other genre and their stories have to conform to different rules than others.

My top peeve is the use of rubbers in erotic stories. Why do we need a condom, will you get an STD from reading? Do we need to promote safe sex? Why?

Did Dirty Harry use blanks in his 44 Magnum, well did he punk?

Are James Patterson’s characters all nice Sunday school teachers, well hell no!

So why can other writers write murder and mayhem without any thought to their character’s safety? Is it written anywhere that we have to play nice? I’m mad and I’m not going to take this any longer!

When you read a fictional story, most people read to be entertained and a means to escape to another world for a few minutes. Well, and if you read one of my stories, I hope you get off also.

I don’t have any lofty ideals about my stories, I write stroke, plain and simple but that’s not the whole story.

An erotic story by definition is to entertain and stimulate the reader, not to teach a lesson. Unless that’s the actual intent of the story.

I never use a condom in a story because I think that the reader needs to imagine the feeling of bare skin on skin, not plastic rubbing together. The story is not going to somehow infect us but if you’re worried about it try spraying your books with Lysol.

I doubt that you can find very many people who would rather have sex with a rubber than bareback. Especially in today’s world, where we are constantly concerned about some disease such as Ebola, AIDS, Hep C, or some other God-awful thing that might make your dick fall off.

By the same token, if the thought of pseudo-rape or non-con scenes turns your crank, then why can’t we read that? If Stephen King can torture and kill people in his stories without raising an eyebrow, why can’t we have someone put clothespins on our nipples?

Personally, I’m not into pain but I know a number of people who really get off on it. That doesn’t mean that you have to read/write a story involving a flogger but you should have the right if you want to.

According to authors who use a conventional publishing house and have to deal with editors, there is often the comments that the editor makes them tone down their story to be sure it doesn’t offend someone.

That’s why I like to satisfy myself and my readers, not some editor somewhere, which self-publishing gives you that ability.

“Freedom of speech doesn’t protect speech you like; it protects speech you don’t like,” Larry Flynt of Hustler Magazine.

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Consent and Complicity

by | January 21, 2019 | | 5 Comments

A few days ago, Robert Buckley posted a biting critique of political correctness in publishing, especially in erotica. He cited a personal experience where an editor had labeled his climactic scene involving two people who had a sexual history as a rape because the woman had not explicitly given her consent to the encounter.

Bob was dumb-founded – and I would have been, too. Lovers don’t need to ask permission. Even in an erotic interlude between strangers, mutual attraction can often be assumed, signaled by behavioral cues. We are, after all, writing for adults, not children who need every detail spelled out.

Meanwhile, there are plenty of readers who enjoy stories involving dubious consent, or even completely non-consensual sex. You can wring your hands all you want, but survey after survey has documented the fact that many women have rape fantasies. Do these women actually want to be raped? Of course not. That doesn’t diminish the erotic charge associated with being “forced” to submit to sex.

One reason this fantasy is such a powerful aphrodisiac is that it relieves the woman of responsibility for sexual activity. If you’re coerced into having sex, nobody can label you as a slut. You can remain a good girl even as you’re enjoying the enormous cock (or cocks) pounding your holes.

Intellectually, I can understand the appeal of non-con fantasies, but this particular kink doesn’t really push my personal buttons. I can recall only one book I’ve written that had elements of dubious consent (Rajasthani Moon). The novel begins with the heroine being kidnapped, whipped and fucked by a sexy bandit. The whole scenario is intentionally very exaggerated, treated in a light-hearted manner. No one could possibly doubt that Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire on a mission from Queen Victoria, is having an excellent time. In general, serious non-con does not float my boat.

On the contrary, you might say I have a consent fetish. There are few things I find as arousing as explicitly agreeing to do something naughty. Even in a vanilla relationship, saying “yes” to passion is exciting and empowering. There’s always an element of risk in sex, emotional if not physical. When you overcome the fear and claim the pleasure, you reap incredible rewards.

Consent is even more potent in the context of dominance and submission. Nothing turns me on like a submissive agreeing to be tormented and used by a dominant. Admitting your deviant desires—taking responsibility for your own fantasies, twisted and taboo though they might be—scenes featuring this sort of dynamic never fail to get me wet.

My very first published work included this sort of interaction:

He leaned closer. “I want to tie you here, hand and foot, so that you will be more completely at my disposal. I believe that you want that, too. But you must tell me so. I will not do this without your permission.”

Kate was silent. She had never been so unsure in her life. Fear, suspicion, shame, and distrust warred with curiosity and desire. In his arms she had felt both sheltered and helpless, and she longed for those feelings again. Yet he was essentially a stranger, she reminded herself—a stranger with a shady profession and an unsavory reputation.

When she looked at him, though, she saw attentive concern in his eyes, belying the fierce reality of the cock which pulsed hugely from his fly. The sight of his manhood sent a delicious weakness through her limbs. I must be crazy, she thought, as she nodded her assent.

“Do it,” she murmured, and did not trust herself to say anymore.

With expert skill, he bound her wrists with the silken braids. “Silk is a marvelous substance,” he commented. “So soft, but incredibly strong. Like you, my little Kate. I know that you can endure much. Much more than you would believe.”

~ from Raw Silk by Lisabet Sarai

In more recent work, I’ve continued to explore the same themes, in perhaps more subtle ways:

“Look at me.” His tone was softer but no less firm. I raised my eyes to his, which were the startling blue of glacial ice. I shivered and burned. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Sir,” he corrected me. My nipples tightened inside my bra.

“Yes, Sir.” Just his voice was enough to make me ache.

“What’s your name?”

“Cassie, Sir. Cassie Leonard.”

“Don’t look away, Cassie. Look at me. Do you know who I am?”

“No, Sir. I just started at Lindenwood this week. Before that I was in the rehab department at Miriam Hospital.”

“My slaves call me Master Jonathan.”

My earlobes, my nipples, my fingertips, all seemed to catch fire. I wanted to sink through the floor. I didn’t want him to see how his words excited me.

But he did see. I stared at my hands, knuckles white from gripping the rail.

“You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir, I do.” An image of Ryan rose in my mind, his brown curls and uneven grin, muscled chest and hard thighs. I did love him, truly I did, with his quirky humor, his gentle fingers and his boyish ardor. He was a fine young man. My mother approved of him.

“He doesn’t satisfy you.” It was a statement, not a question. Tears of remembered frustration pricked the corners of my eyes. “Why not, Cassie? Is his cock too small?”

I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with a stranger, a patient, a half-paralyzed man forty years older than I was. I stole a glance at Dr. Carver. His mouth was firm but his eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth.

“No, Sir. His cock is fine.” Ryan was justifiably proud of his meaty hard-ons.

“What is it then? Is he a selfish lover? Does he come too quickly for you?”

Guilt washed over me. Ryan would happily spend hours licking my pussy and fingering me, trying to get me off. The only way I could manage it was to think about scenes from the kinky porn I hid from him. Whippings and spankings, gags and handcuffs, all the clichés that I couldn’t stop myself from wanting.

“Well? Tell me, Cassie. What do you need that he doesn’t provide? What do you want?”

My mouth filled with cotton. I couldn’t speak. I was acutely aware of my rigid nipples pressing against the starched fabric of my uniform. My clit pulsed like a sore tooth inside my sodden panties.

“Cassie, I’m waiting.” His sternness sent electricity shimmering through my limbs. “Don’t disappoint me.”

I dared a glance at his face. His left eyelid drooped slightly. His eyes snared mine. I couldn’t look away. One eyebrow arched in an unspoken question.

“I—um—I want him to, uh, to do things to me. That he doesn’t want to do.” I tried to break away from his gaze, but the force of his will held me.

“Things?” He sounded amused. A fresh wave of hot, wet shame swamped my body. “What sort of things?”

“Uh—tie me up. Spank me. Use me. Treat me like his slave.” It all came out in a rush, the desires I’d never shared with anyone except Ryan. Even then, I’d only shown him the tip of the iceberg, the least perverted of my needs. “He wouldn’t, though. He was shocked when I told him. Disgusted. Said that I had a filthy mind.” The tears that had gathered earlier spilled out over my cheeks.

“I imagine that you do, little one, delightfully filthy.” His voice was a caress, soothing and seductive. “I knew that right away, just from your reactions to my voice. Your deepest desire is to submit to a strong master, isn’t it?”

“Yes—Sir.” I felt relief, now that I’d admitted my secret. He at least didn’t seem to condemn me.

“You want to be beaten and buggered, shackled to the bed and split open by a huge cock. You want to bath in your master’s come, maybe even his piss. To be forced to service his friends.”

It was thrilling and horrible, listening to him enumerating my darkest fantasies out loud. My clit felt the size of a ripe plum, swollen and juicy, ready to burst. I nodded, still finding it difficult to expose myself so completely.

“I will do those things for you, if you’d like.”

~ from “Stroke” by Lisabet Sarai, originally published in Please Sir: Erotic Tales of Female Submission, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel.

Why do I find this scenario so exciting? Well, I’ve been there. I’ve stood in front of my master and been invited to admit that what he wanted to do to me, I wanted, too. I’ve consented to things I’d never dared to imagine. I’ve writhed under his blows, turned on despite the very real pain, recognizing in wonder that I’d asked for this. That realization raised the erotic temperature to an even more fevered level.

Certainly I wanted to please him. Knowing he truly appreciated my surrender made it all the sweeter. But the intensity of my arousal derived more from other aspects of our interaction. His vision, seeing through my good-girl persona to the twisted creature underneath, a woman I hardly knew existed. His whole-hearted acceptance of my deviance. My secret, shameful, delicious knowledge that I was complicit in my own debasement.

We shared the communion of outlaws, two souls with perfectly complementary fantasies. I’d stepped over that line deliberately, trusting him and myself.

He and I are still in touch, though separated by many thousands of miles. He recently sent me a video of “Wolf Like Me”, by the group TV on the Radio. I’d never encountered this song before, but now I can’t get it out of my mind.

Charge me your day rate
I’ll turn you out in kind
When the moon is round and full
Gonna teach you tricks that’ll blow your mongrel mind
Baby doll, I recognize
You’re a hideous thing inside
If ever there were a lucky kind, it’s
You, you, you, you

I know it’s strange another way to get to know you
You’ll never know unless we go so let me show you
I know it’s strange another way to get to know you
We’ve got till noon; here comes the moon
So let it show you
Show you now

I concur with his suggestion that the lyrics hold many D/s echoes. We both understood it in the same way—as an invitation to venture beyond the bounds of convention and normalcy, into the fierce, hot, wild unknown of power exchange.

An invitation to consent.

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