Monday, March 30, 2015
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Friday, March 27, 2015
by Jean Roberta
Every writer who has hoped to win a prize, but didn’t, should serve a kind of literary jury duty by volunteering to be a judge in a book award contest. It’s much like being an editor, except that the only payment is fame, glamour, and a sense of accomplishment. :)
Last May, I went to the Bisexual Book Awards in New York City, a fun event at which the finalists read from their work. (My “bawdy novella,” The Flight of the Black Swan, was nominated, and so was Twice the Pleasure, an anthology of bisexual women’s erotica, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, in which I have a story, “Operetta,” which one reviewer called “a meringue.”) I didn’t seriously expect to win anything, since this is the best attitude to adopt at such times, and I didn’t. However, I was invited to be one of the judges in the “Erotica” category of the awards for books published in 2014. (The ceremony will be at the end of May 2015.)
I was grateful for the honour, and I accepted. Little did I know that over the coming months, 22 books (most in the form of PDFs) would arrive in my inbox and my actual mailbox. They were more diverse than some readers might expect, although writers of erotica generally know how broad our field is. Francesca Lia Block and Alison Tyler of Los Angeles were among the authors of nominated books, and one book was set in Canada. There was BDSM and a multicultural cast of characters. There was historical fiction and suspense. There was magic and shapeshifting, not all of it cute. There was lightness (more meringues) as well as heaviness and graphic murder. There were several self-published books, and several from publishers I hadn’t heard of before; I found this informative.
Meanwhile, in my actual life, there were student essays to grade, pets to feed, meals to cook, and floors to mop. (My spouse and I have been the official cleaning ladies of the local LGBT bar/watering hole for several months. We get paid in money and compliments from bar patrons who find relief in washrooms that show no signs of the previous night’s debauchery.)
The deadline for the Erotica judges’ decisions was March 15, a Sunday. This meant a three-day marathon of reading for me and, I suspect, for the other three judges, one of whom politely resigned due to a personal emergency.
Living in the imaginary world of one novel can be a delightful experience, best enjoyed on a beach or a luxury hotel room. Rushing from the imaginary world of one novel to the next, 22 times, is like being a lunatic or a mystic who can’t turn off the voices in her head. Some of the books were – ahem – more effective on my libido than others, but I didn’t want the state of my crotch to be the determining factor in my decisions.
I added criteria of my own to the official guidelines. I ruled out several books that were thinly-disguised (or undisguised) examples of m/m erotic romance with no sex scenes involving women. One of these novels, in particular, was well-written, moving, believable, and was part of a series starring intelligent, compassionate, three-dimensional characters who change over time. However, I needed a somewhat objective way to eliminate titles until I was left with a choice that could qualify as bisexual in every sense, as well as being quality literature.
None of the books I read seemed to dramatize the tired old joke that bisexuals will jump on anything that moves. Few of them seemed to be written by horny teenagers. Bisexuality, it seems, has come of age.
I asked for a time extension of one day, but I was reminded that the judging had to be wrapped up, sooner than later. When I exchanged emails with the remaining two judges and the organizer, I was surprised at how much overlap there was among our choices for the top five finalists. One novel, in particular, appealed to all of us, so we reached a bloodless agreement to name it the winner.
So now my role in the decision-making is over, and I’m waiting – along with all the authors of nominated books – for the public announcement of the winners in all the categories of the Bisexual Book Awards, which will undoubtedly be scheduled (as it was in 2014) close to the Lambdalit Awards so that writers and fans can attend both.
One thing I know beyond a doubt is that judging, no matter how many rules the judges impose on themselves, is always subjective. And of course, the more nominees there are, the more competition there is.
If your book was nominated for a book award of any kind, but you didn’t win, don’t fret. It’s not you, it’s us.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
by Kathleen Bradean
I know a writer--actually, I think every writer is tempted with these thoughts, but let's pretend it's just this one guy -- who was fairly good at short stories, but he wanted success in the form of a highly acclaimed and commercially successful literary novel. The writer would never admit this out loud, but he secretly believed that there was a formula to creating these rare books, so he spent hours analyzing novels that enjoyed some critical acclaim and commercial success in an attempt to distill the essence of the magical formula hidden within. He wrote detailed outlines to analyze their pace. He picked apart paragraphs and plots and poked around their insides hoping to discover it. Year after year, he obsessed over this idea. He was looking to turn lead into gold. An alchemist.
I sympathized with the Alchemist. After all, wasn't I once so frustrated by the publishing landscape and relatively low sales of erotica that I was tempted to try my hand at a romance novel? Not because I thought romance novels were easy to write, but because the market for romance is so huge and back then my definition of success having thousands of readers.* My brilliant plan was thwarted by the fact that I have zero ability to write romance. Believe me, I tried. Anyone who thinks it's so simple obviously hasn't sat down and tried to write one. (And anyone who thinks romance is formulaic should consider that murder mysteries are too.)
Then I was struck by an epiphany. I already knew what the literary equivalent of the Philosopher's Stone was. The Alchemist doesn't need to spend hours trying to find this elusive magical ingredient anymore. *crooks finger* Come closer, and I will share this secret with you.
All he had to do was...
But first, a moment of 'catty sounding but not really meant that way' commentary on runaway best sellers such as The Da Vinci Code and Shades of Grey. Books that enjoy wild popularity like that usually aren't well-written, which is confusing as hell to writers. Why do we struggle with our craft when it appears not to matter?* This odd dichotomy happens because to reach those levels of sales, you have to get non-readers to read the books, and non-readers aren't as picky about writing quality as habitual readers are. Non-readers may even feel that those books are more accessible because the writing isn't literary or artistic. They're light, breezy reads that don't challenge the reader. (And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Sorry. I can't support snobbery when it come to books.) Then there are books such as the Harry Potter series which are well-written (even though for a while there it was verrrrry fashionable for writers to pooh-pooh their artistic merit too) yet also sell heaps of copies and often to non-readers.
So what are the similarities here?
What's the big secret to their success?
*Back into whisper mode*
It's the characters.
Do you feel cheated? That's no big secret. But if you're the Alchemist, somehow, you've lost sight of this. Something about the characters in those best-selling books we love to hate make the story worth reading. Oh sure, a ripping yarn helps. A fantastic opening paragraph is also important. All the basics of a good story have to be there no matter how mediocre the execution. But I swear that no one would have bothered handing FSOG or Harry Potter off to a friend, saying 'You have to read this!" if the characters hadn't spoken to them. Characters are what we read for. We get wrapped up in what's happening to them. We cry at their losses. So yes, pay attention to your prose, and your plot, but give your readers what they want - someone worth reading about.
Oddly enough, the Alchemist already writes fairly compelling characters, so he has to tools to write a successful novel. Now if he'd only stop diagramming sentences of literary masterpieces and just write, maybe he'd turn out a decent novel.
* Success means different things to different writers. Your ideas and goals may change. And don't let me imply that wanting to be number one the best seller's list isn't a perfectly legit dream for a writer, because you know I'd take that spot in a heartbeat.
Posted by Kathleen Bradean at 12:30 AM
Monday, March 23, 2015
By Lucy Felthouse
Following on from my little rant last month about the dreaded sucknopsis, I thought I'd better do something more useful this time. And since, as you probably gathered if you read the previous post, synopses (??) are not my strong point, my natural progression was onto blurbs. Something I can do.
Yes, I am one of these rare writer-types that actually likes writing blurbs. Crazy, eh? I've even had folk pay me to write or re-write blurbs for them. I suspect my blurb writing skills come from the marketing side of my brain (my creative and marketing sides seem to live in a lovely harmony up in the old grey matter). When I graduated, I ended up in a PR & Marketing role and was immediately pointed in the direction of press releases, sales sheets and advertising copy, and told to "go create!"
Okay, those weren't the exact words they used, but the bottom line is I was thrown in at the deep end. Fortunately, I discovered I did have an aptitude for writing copy that would entice consumers and retailers to buy products, and I think this is something I've continued to improve on over time. So now, when it comes to writing a blurb, I find it pretty easy. It does require a certain amount of distancing yourself from your work, though. It's simple to think to yourself, oh well, this book is about X, Y and Z, if I just write that, people will get it, and buy the book.
But the thing to remember is that blurbs are meant to entice, to tempt, to intrigue. Not just tell people what the book is about (which is the difference between a synopsis and a blurb). You want to hint what the book is about (while giving enough information so that they know what the genre is, and if it's their kind of read), but without giving away any major plot points or twists. Try and pick out the most important themes of your book and find a way to include them in the blurb. If possible, ask a question, as many people's brains will be wired to want to know the answer to that question. And, of course, the way for them to get the answer... buy and read the book!
This may seem obvious, too, but mention your characters - or the main ones, anyway. Blurbs are fairly short and to the point, so you can't give any great detail, but if you can present potential readers with enough information about your characters and your plot to let them know whether it sounds like a book they'd be interested in, with characters they'd like to read about, then you're onto a winner.
Here's one of my own blurbs as an example:
Their love is forbidden by rules, religion and risk. Yet still they can’t resist. [a lead in. Not necessary, but the publication the story was originally written for wanted a short, enticing strap line. This is what I came up with, and I liked it so much I kept it. It immediately tells you that it's a love story, then goes on to indicate forbidden love, and risk. But then it teases - they can't resist. So you know pretty much straight away that this is no straightforward love affair, and not a simple story.]
Captain Hugh Wilkes is on his last tour of duty in Afghanistan. [Now you know the name of the lead character, and that he's military. You also have the setting of the story, not always necessary, but when it's as interesting as a war zone, it's probably worth a mention!] The British Army is withdrawing, and Wilkes expects his posting to be event-free [Now you know the character is a Brit, and that he's expecting no drama on his tour.]. That is, until he meets his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, who awakens desires in Wilkes that he’d almost forgotten about, and that won’t be ignored. [Now you know that the potential love interest is an Afghan national, which goes some way to explain the part about their love being forbidden by rules, religion and risk. The fact that the story is M/M is now fairly obvious from the names, but the cover has two men on it - so there should be no confusion there!]
And there you have it - hopefully my notes in brackets all made sense, and pulled out what I believe are important points for a blurb. Basically, keep it short and to the point, don't give too much away, distance yourself from the story enough that you can see what will appeal to potential readers, and remember, you're selling your story to someone, making them think "Ooh! That sounds interesting. Click."
If you can, get someone you know and trust to be honest with you to read the blurb. Even better if they haven't read the story already - if they then want to read the story based on your blurb, then you know you've done a good job.
As with most things, writing blurbs takes practice. All publishers are different - some will literally take what you've written and use it, others will work with you to improve it, and others still will write something themselves. But the person that knows your story the best is you, so you've got the knowledge, the background, to know what will excite readers and pull them in. So it's definitely worth spending time on your blurb, especially if it'll be used word for word. You only have a short amount of time to make them want to click that buy button, so don't waste the opportunity!
I hope you find this useful. Of course, things like this vary from person to person, but you may find this works for you.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
By Lisabet Sarai
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Okay, spank me. (I wish!) I completely forgot to set up Sexy Snippets Day for February.
I won't make that mistake again. Today is the 19th of March, which means it's your day to heat up the Internet with your hottest erotic prose.
The ERWA blog is not primarily intended for author promotion. However, we've decided we should give our author/members an occasional opportunity to expose themselves (so to speak) to the reading public. Hence, we have declared the 19th of every month at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association blog Sexy Snippet Day.
On Sexy Snippet day, any author can post a tiny excerpt (200 words or less) in a comment on the day's post. Include the title from with the snippet was extracted, your name or pseudonym, and one buy link, if you'd like.
Feel free to share this with erotic author friends. It's an open invitation!
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Just to bring closure to last month’s column, I did indeed see the movie version of Fifty Shades of Grey and I enjoyed it just fine. No doubt Universal held back some extra sex scenes to add to the DVD release. I predict the movie will top $1 billion when it goes to instant download and DVD. Viewers who are too embarrassed to be seen in their local theater will indulge their curiosity—many of these viewers will be men—and if there are extra sex scenes, lots of people who saw it in the theaters will be back to see if this time Hollywood really, truly changes our lives forever with a choreographed show of two more or less naked people pretending to have sex. My fingers are crossed.
Now, I hear you, my dear readers, we’re all sick of Fifty Shades of Grey. But I’m still reeling from all the hate out there, which seems so out of proportion to its target—a humble erotic-romance novel that, in spite of its purported BDSM theme, isn't nearly as violent as most of the stuff we see on TV. I’m kind of taking the hate personally, to be honest, as an erotica writer, a woman and a person who believes all of this fear, shame, and anger around sexuality is harming the world. Thanks to the bullying curriculum in today’s schools, I know an honorable bystander is supposed to intervene when they see someone being victimized. So to finish up my Focus on Fifty Shades series (this is my last column on this topic and that’s a promise), I felt I had to stand up for five special victims whose rights and well-being are suffering from the phenomenon.
Victim #1: Traditional Publishing
All of us here write and publish erotic books. So how come people all over the world aren’t clamoring to write scathing reviews about how our work is stupid and badly written and people only want to read it to masturbate and also destroy Western civilization, so the reviewer didn’t actually read it, but recommends no one else does either? We wish. Of course, first we have to sell over a hundred million copies of the various books in our trilogy, become a household word, and thus draw the attention of the voracious and endlessly snarky media. In fact, I’d argue that one of the more important reasons for all the snark is that the traditional power structure of publishing is under attack by hoards of sex-crazed women, both menstruating and menopausal.
Alas, the traditional ways were so elegant and righteous. Aspiring writers would genuflect before teachers and agents and editors and marketers and publishers who would tell them if they were good enough, mess with their stuff to make it more salable, skim off a cut, and conveniently blame the author if money wasn’t made. In return, the power structure would give readers deathless prose, edifying stories about family dysfunction and sex that is always punished, and an endless supply of the “new voice of our generation.” This indeed gave us many first novels by brilliant young men who masturbate with the English language, thus assuring that the reader is too confused to replicate the physical act at home. Morality was thus preserved.
But along comes E.L. James with a built-in fan base and the negotiating power to avoid the usual slave-labor contracts and insist the “experts” keep their hands off of her story. Plus her fans are not behaving like ladies. They are refusing to be shamed. Best-selling popular novels are not new, but novels that get there without the midwifery of the establishment are far more shocking than whips and chains. No wonder everyone in the literary establishment is in a bad mood about it, archly observing in so many words, “Maybe E.L. James will learn to write well after the Revolution.” I wouldn’t predict that editors and publishers will totally disappear, but the power dynamics are in interesting flux and many are running scared. Let us bow our heads for a moment for the passing of the old ways.
Victim #2: E.L. James’ Control in All Things
There is an irony in James’ desire to “exercise control in all things” Fifty Shades, or so the news stories present her as protective of her story against those who want to “improve” it. However, once any story becomes this popular, it belongs to everyone. Although Fifty Shades is soundly criticized for the weakness of its prose, sometimes an author’s distinctive voice can get in the way of making a story our own. Few readers can maintain hours and hours of pure admiration of someone else’s wordplay (Finnegan’s Wake?). We want a story that comes to life in our own heads.
Recently there actually have been thoughtful articles about the book and movie, some even by men. The few males who aren’t compelled to slam both lest their testicles shrink to the size of chickpeas do something similar to what fans do. They explore how the story is personally relevant to them. A.O. Scott’s “Unexpected Lessons From ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’" compares the movie critic’s role to Christian and the audience’s unpredictable tastes to Ana. Robert Hoatson’s “Fifty Shades of Grey is about the trauma of childhood abuse, not sex” empathizes with Christian’s shut-down emotions. And Richard Brody’s “The Accurate Erotics of ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’” points out, without contempt, that one thing Fifty Shades has that most movies don’t is foreplay. The story has taken on the stature of public myth, becoming much more than itself.
I’d like to talk about one of the ways I personalized the story. I’m a hopeless analyzer. I get through the superhero movies my kids choose for family outings by analyzing the arc of the fight scenes and measuring the contrived sentimental punch of the scenes with dying parents and lonely, but gifted children. Perhaps not surprisingly, one of my favorite parts of Fifty Shades, book one, is that much-maligned contract Christian presents to his submissives. Many people call it boring, ridiculous and unromantic. For me it was the first time I felt a real connection to the book and decided to keep reading. Some readers and critics have been outraged that Christian would seek to control Ana’s schedule, clothes, grooming, eating habits, and sexuality, including masturbation, and justify it all as being for her own good. Around the “Availability” clauses, it struck me through the legalese that all women must negotiate these issues as we take our place in a patriarchal society. Ana’s lucky enough to be able to negotiate directly, but the rest of us have to find more creative ways to say no, some of which bring dire consequences to our well-being. And the enforcers in real life—our families, our peers, our religion and, worst of all, women’s magazines--are often more exacting than boyfriends. Throughout history and across cultures, women are constantly under scrutiny to look right, eat right, and limit our sexuality to the proper partner. The whole series of novels is about Ana’s negotiation of a contract, which she never signs. In real life women don’t have to sign to be shackled in those handcuffs.
By the way, there’s an equally problematic version of the social/sexual contract for men, including expectations about work, emotions, sexuality and so forth. It would probably be more authentic for a man to explore this in detail, but Christian’s character is a decent illustration of these expectations and how they can mess you up.
Victim #3: The Pretense that Women Get Respect in our Society
Some of the loudest voices calling Fifty Shades a danger to society are those that argue it encourages women to pursue abusive sexual relationships and more damaging still, read bad prose. In an effort to save us from this fate, so many commentators have felt compelled to insult women and female tastes without restraint. One particular critique amused me. Basically this man said we all know Fifty Shades is written badly and the story is stupid. But we also have to figure out why it works so well so we can duplicate its success. Excuse me, but how can you expect to understand, not to mention bank on, something if you despise it?
Now I know one of the main ways we define ourselves as cool is to feel contempt for others. But as a recovering I’m-too-good-to-read-Fifty Shades snob, I’m really glad I read the books. At the very least, it means I’m not a total jerk for opining about something I know nothing about.
As Alyssa Rosenberg wrote in “Men, stop lecturing women about reading romance novels” (a rebuttal to William Giraldi’s infamously misogynistic screed against Fifty Shades in The New Republic), “Romance novels are attractive not just because they are a gratifying escape but also because they sometimes feel like a respite from the significant hostility that a lot of literature shows women.” Isn’t it the truth? All too often female characters are ornamental girlfriends, the reason for the hero’s quest, or the evil castrating witch, but seldom a character we can relate to and respect. Okay, maybe if we look good in a black leather bodysuit, we’ll get the token female lead in the superhero buddy film. In any case, Rosenberg continues, “Romance novels are a tonic, a form of reassurance that someone is interested in ordinary women’s inner lives and is rooting for us to resolve our conflicts about work, love, and what we deserve from our relationships.”
So, yes, if you want women to buy your writing—and women are the fiction market by a big margin--you have to create a compelling story that treats female characters and their concerns with genuine respect. Should be easy for you, right, buddy? Now go get rich.
Victim #4: Christian Grey
We’re all familiar with the characterization of Christian Grey as a stalker who creepily appears at Ana’s side at whim, due in part to his vampire ancestry. Some insist that thanks to the popularity of Fifty Shades, controlling, abusive men will now have women lining up outside their doors.
If we allow that the Fifty Shades novels are guides to real-life relationships as these critics apparently do, I think we need to look at Ana’s behavior as well. In the first book and movie, she insists Christian show her the worst the pain can be in his playroom. He--though not very wisely for a supposedly experienced Dom dealing with a very inexperienced sub--whips her six times with a belt on her bare ass with no warm-up. She then calls him a sick pervert and breaks up with him. Did this bother anyone else? Not the belt part, because Ana explicitly asked for something that. But if you pressure someone you care about to make himself vulnerable then immediately recoil at his repulsiveness without any meaningful discussion or processing, this is emotional abuse. So, to all the young men out there, let this be a lesson—if a woman does this to you, it is not a promising foundation for building trust in the relationship.
Except of course, it turns out to be the right move for a continuing relationship because (spoiler alert!) Christian decides to let her determine the nature of their sexual encounters, thus giving up the sort of BDSM he was trying to sign her up for. Yet Ana is hardly more trustworthy emotionally in the later books. From a “realistic” view, Ana is in her early twenties and has never had a boyfriend. But Christian gets blasted for his possessiveness and jealousy, when she is just as guilty. Her deep love is supposed to be the salve to heal Christian’s damaged heart, but she is jealous of every woman past or present who even makes eyes at her handsome but romance-novel-loyal boyfriend, so jealous that she regularly contemplates leaving him. The second and third novels swing between Ana wanting to save his wounded inner child with every fiber of her being then wondering on the next page if she should dump him when the going gets even a teeny bit tough. Another shockingly thoughtless act is when she forces him back to the playroom because of her own curiosity, although he has avoided it like a recovering alcoholic stays away from booze. Christian’s life was ruined by a “crack whore” birth mother and a Mrs. Robinson type who seduced him into the BDSM lifestyle at 15. These are bad ladies to have in your life, but I wouldn’t be so sure his luck with women had changed all that much with Ana.
Our young men deserve more maturity and kindness in their relationships. I hope the guardians of our social order will speak up for their welfare when the sequels come out and it’s Ana now jerking Christian around by the emotional leash.
Victim #5: Me-Too Books and Movies
There are some benefits to getting older. I know when something is advertised as the sexiest book or movie ever, it won’t be. Or when a magazine promises to teach me the four tricks that will blow a man’s mind in bed, I won’t learn anything new. And I know that because of the success of Fifty Shades that New York and Hollywood will green-light many projects that won’t do so well. The decision-makers will not conclude that in their rush to cash in, the appeal of Fifty Shades was not carefully analyzed and respected. They will more likely say that women actually don’t like sexy stories as much as we all thought or feared. Having lived through several cycles of excitement over the profit potential for erotica followed by disappointment when a project that receives no support doesn’t sell, I sense we’re bound for another round of the same.
I don’t want to end this column on a negative note by suggesting that all erotica writers will suffer when the publishing and movie industries make the same mistakes all over again. In other words, that we are victims of the Fifty Shades frenzy. I prefer standing up for the victim rather than identifying as one. Let’s just say I hope the clear evidence that women will pay good money to see their fantasies and desires portrayed in the media will create a permanent shift in our favor in the plans of the powerful scions of the Imagination Business.
In the meantime, we must keep writing what we love and support each other and a sex-positive culture. The fight for honest erotic expression continues!
Donna George Storey is the author of Amorous Woman and a collection of short stories, Mammoth Presents the Best of Donna George Storey. Learn more about her work at www.DonnaGeorgeStorey.com or http://www.facebook.com/DGSauthor
Sunday, March 15, 2015
How does my male body feel as I write this?
I am sitting in my favorite coffee shop, with a cold cup of coffee, sitting on a beach towel folded under my tiny ass, placed on a hard chair with my legs crossed. I look down, I see the keyboard, there are no breasts in the way of my view. Sitting with crossed knees, if I flex my thighs a little I can feel the bulge of my balls down there, my friendly and familiar dick which would like to be scratched a little. My clothes which are manly clothes, my wristwatch, metal, big, self consciously masculine in its brusque design. My full beard, which I have to frequently color, itches; I reach up and scratch it a little, run my fingers through its manly hairiness. The side burns reaching from my ears to my lips are of a different quality from the hair of my chin, a trait which varies from man to man. My sideburn hair is soft and of the same material as what hair survives on the top of my head. The mustache and beard is thicker, like the beard of a schnauzer dog, made of pubic hair, which feels thick, wiry, curly and coarse, and conjures up images of back seat fumbling trysts as a kid. I have an unconscious habit of twining my fingers in my public hair beard and twisting it in a Gandalfesque manner when I am reading or sincerely lost in thought. Women slap my hand away when I do that. It sheds too. I am conscious of having a beard from male vanity because I have a weak chin like a frog and a beard gives me some jaw definition. I am conscious of my belly and when I stand naked in the shower I look down to make sure I can still see my dick. That’s the standard. I say if a man can’t see his dick, he needs to lose weight.
What if I were a woman sitting here?
And what is Eros for a woman compared to a man?
It must be different, it cannot be the same. A man makes love and walks away clean, swinging his dick, moving on with his life. He doesn’t even have to see the woman again; nothing in his life has to change.
When touched, it wants to be touched more, but whereas women prefer a gentle touch, a man’s phallus longs for pressure. Pressure wants pressure. It wants to be in motion, to be active, a hunting hound dog, a pressurized steam engine of thrust and action. This rapid ascent towards something through pressure and motion persuades a man that this is what he wants, the sweet, sweet, sweet pressure which wants release and relief and there is something else, this experience which is closed off to women. The experience of penetrating the offered body of another human being, to cross the abyss of the senses, to satisfy and consummate the urge to penetration.
There is something about the act of sex which on the surface is so primitive, so undignified in its animal naturalness, so wonderful and so different from everything else that a man’s life is forever divided between life lived before that moment he experiences his first act of insertion and all of his life after. There is also this other moment, if you are a man of some experience and not a boy, when you are about to insert yourself, it is a feeling of the most exquisite anticipation, you wait and linger to keep that moment for yourself, hovering before the gates of paradise. Then beginning the act - the tip touches, maybe in the wrong place and if the woman is kind she will take that sweet high pressure pole in hand and guide it in like a ship to port. And then you find the offered spot down there where you can’t see in the light of the nightstand lamp or candle, or dashboard, or the moon, that spot which is the black hole at the center of your male universe, wet, snug, but offered to you.
But how is it for a woman? I’ve asked women, read articles, trying to get a feel for what a woman feels. How must it be to have a man with a part of his body inserted in your own? How can that possibly feel good? Is it vulnerable? Does it require a certain state of mind first, a great trust of the man or is it a let down?
What a woman risks to have that little moment. A man passes a disease so much easier than a woman can give disease to him. A male of any species walks away freely, can move on with his life with having to change anything. A woman risks her life, her freedom, her health, her independence, her definition of who she is. Sex and death are bound in a way for a woman that does not exist for a man at all. A man walks away, swinging his dick. A woman can get pregnant. If it’s a healthy pregnancy, in nine months her life, her emotions, her understanding of herself, will be profoundly changed in ways she will never get back. The person she is at the beginning will change over time. If all goes well, she’ll give birth, experience pain, blood, messiness, occasionally terror and then there will be this life which came from her, this entity which has experienced life only through her for almost a year, every moment of every hour, through every activity, kicking, turning over in its sleep, frighteningly still, annoyingly active, and now revealed as a separate thing. Introduced forever. And if it goes badly, death. This was a very common way for women to die, a bad birth, your loins exploding inside of you like a bomb. Risking not only your life for love, but even a grisly death. There is no experience like this in nature for a man except war.
The orgasm for a man, is of rising, building up, creating a scaffold of aggressive sensation, the monkey awareness of reaching that moment of no return when your head feels light and the explosion is rippling up the length of your shaft like a great wave rushing to crash into the rocks and now this wave is pulsing forward and out, pulsing and pulsing and holding you for the moment in the grip of that pulsing feeling of release. That explosion obliterates you for an instant, you can’t push it out hard enough, you can never explode violently enough, there is always a huge feeling of relief and an insatiable greed to make it more and more intense. For a male the orgasm is assertion, insertion, exertion and finally that cannon shot of release and relief. And then you feel like doing something else.
Posted by Garceus at 12:30 AM