Exploring My Porn Folder Again

Short entry today, because my brain wants to run out and play. Honestly, I think it did so a few hours ago and left me in here working. Stupid brain. I’m going to stab you with a Q-tip.

Some stories get written, and then they never get sold. I have mostly accepted this, and in the cases of some old work, I understand.* On the other hand, there are some perfectly good stories that are just sitting around waiting for an possible anthology to pop up.

I wrote this story for a threesome anthology from Oysters and Chocolate. It didn’t make the cut, but it did feature a fucked up guy who was cheating with his best friend’s wife who then gets picked up by a gangster’s girlfriend and her chauffeur. Sex is always better when guns are involved, yes?

Gentlest Sin
Two words, “Clockwork Peepshow.” In retrospect, I should have sent this off when there was that spate of steampunk calls for submission a while back. I wrote this story back before steampunk really got going, I think, and I’ve carried it across three different computers. Looking over it now, yegads but its a sad story. Sad man, sad clockwork doll, I need to write something happy.**

Untitled Victorian Magician Story
I wrote this one for Ruthies right before it went under. I really miss that market. Anyway, this story was about a Victorian magician who was auditioning for a new assistant. Wacky hijinks ensue and suddenly we’re in a story about autoerotic asphyxiation. I think maybe I had just watched The Illusionist, or at least, that was my excuse.

Poking through my pornography writing folder, I realized that I should do some serious organization. I really didn’t need a moment where I wondered when I had written an erotic story entitled “Hamster Pregnancy.”**** This is what happens when you save work without thinking about where it’s going. On the other hand, I’d probably read erotica stories titled “Poisonous Spiders” and “Fox Hunting With Dogs.”
Coming Soon:
Research Ate My Brain
Cthulhu and Erotica: Two Great Tastes That Taste Great Together
Possibly Some Lunch, I’m Hungry
*Poorly disguised Interview With the Vampire fanfic? Really, Past-Kannan?
**Eh, writing something happy is difficult. I’m gonna go write something about miserable people instead.***
***Rinse, repeat.
****I really can’t wait to see what the search engines bring here now.


For a Porn Blog, There Sure Isn’t Much Porn Here…

Before we get started, have some links to people talking about my work! Queerpunk is put out by Circlet Press, and features my short story, Virgin.

Three Dollar Bill reviews Queerpunk here.

3 AM reviews Queerpunk here.

Miss Rat reviews Queerpunk here.

The Miss Rat review has been linked previously, but I figure I’d throw it up there for the sake of completion.

For the record, I like reading reviews of my work, and if you let me know that you have a review of my work up, I’d be happy to link to it. I’m also available for interviews and modeling!*


Anyway, so for a blog that’s all about erotica, there’s actually precious little erotica on it.

To sex up the blog a little, have some erotica!

This is a bit that was cut from the forthcoming novella Lord of Misrule, which I’ve been told will be out sometime later this summer. Verity’s a student at a magical university whose science project is driving him crazy, and Iskander is his assistant/secretary. That’s about all you need to know to get into this little snippet, but there are further notes at the end.


This Entry Only Narrowly Missed Being Entitled “Handjobs”

My livelihood depends on the Internet, and I’m on it a great deal.

However, there comes a time in the night* when I can’t really stand being on the computer anymore, but I’m still not quite ready to stop writing. The solution, of course, is to tuck myself into bed with a notebook and a pen.

Writing longhand is not as fast as typing on the computer, but sometimes, my brain prefers the slowdown. I don’t think it makes me write better, but its more than I would be doing if I just lay in bed and wished I were still writing at the computer.

So a few years ago, I bought a couple of notebooks because they kind of reminded me of my mom’s notebooks from Vietnam, and ever since, I’ve been slowly starting to fill them with… stuff.

Flipping through these notebooks, you’ll find grocery lists, novel outlines, fiction snippets, appliance serial numbers, bad poetry, and occasionally cryptic things.**

One thing that’s coming up more and more often is stuff involving Killian and Imyrr. Some of it is sex, and some of it is that unforgivably soppy and sappy writing that seems like such a good idea when you are up too late.***

While it’s not like I’ve gotten a novel about them in longhand, I could actually see it getting there. Those two characters have been knocking around in my head for quite some time and writing about them is weirdly comforting. They are undemanding, and though I had probably better refresh my understanding about black-topped redware before I start writing them in earnest, I can see the novella they are in from here.

So to sum up, there is a limit to how much I can actually be online, longhand writing can be good for more than just signing checks, and eventually, more Imyrr and Killian stuff will likely end up on this blog.
Coming Soon:
Historical Lubricants
I Prefer to Call It Tentacle Lovemaking
Underappreciated Erotic Opportunities in Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street

*Usually around about 1 AM Central time.
** “The infestation made him rot, but that didn’t make him unhelpful.”
***Hm, on reflection, I should really ask Miss Rat to take a look at those bits. That might be that “emotion” thing I’ve heard so much about.

My Love/Hate Relationship with Word Count

When I am writing erotica, I tend to gravitate towards the 3,500-4,000 word range. That gives me about 1000 words to get the story set up, and between 2,500 and 3,000 words to get everyone’s clothes off, insert tabs into slots,* and then maybe set up about 200 words of afterglow.

That takes me maybe 2 days if I’m being diligent, but that’s definitely not all the work that I’m doing. For my regular job, I write maybe 3000 words a day, where I will write about everything from how to make cheese to bovine vaginal palpitation. That’s a real improvement from when I was writing 8,000 words a day on multi-level marketing and getting maybe a third of the pay. I also write about 1000 words a day on regular fiction as well, depending on how crazy it makes me. Erotica makes me significantly less crazy than regular fiction, because I know what I’m doing with erotica.

Some writers will write a certain amount of words in a night or in a writing session, whether that’s 500 words or 2,000 words, and while that’s the mode I currently use, I find that I actually seem to do better with writing goals.

If I were smart, the writing goals for Lord of Misrule would have looked something like this:

4/15: Finish the punishment caning scene
4/16: Get Iskander and Verity back to Verity’s room and start taking care of the results of the caning
4/17: Careful oral sex
4/18: Defeat mummy
4/19: Become famous writer, never write about bovine vaginal palpitation again.

Word counts can be an important tool, and a good motivator, but its important to remember that 500 words of trash is still trash, and that taking out later on during the edits is going to sting like a jellyfish.
Coming Soon:
Four Sexy, Underused Settings for Erotica
Four Horseman Gangbang
You Won’t Find the Meaning of Life on Craigslist
*Holy hell, that might have been the least sexy thing I’ve typed all week. **
**Actually untrue. I needed to research rectovaginal artificial insemination for an article I was thinking about writing. ***
*** I can’t wait to see what Google searches are going to land on my blog now.

Five Things I Do That Have Nothing to Do With Writing

Every now and then, I need to remember that I do other things besides write. Some of the things that I do have nothing to do writing at all.* It’s important to do things besides writing, because otherwise, I’d be pretty dull to hang out with, and writing isn’t actual communal. I don’t have all that much of a social life, but I’d like to hang on to what I do have, thank you.

So what else do I do with my life?

This is a relatively new thing. It took me a few years, but I’ve gone from making rectangular things to triangular things. I like to think that’s an improvement. I’ve gotten better, and all it took was inflicting years of poorly knitted gifts on my friends.

I am a funny-shaped person. I’m not perfectly ball-shaped or, you know, elliptical, but there are oddities there that make shopping a little irritating. The answer? Start sewing my own clothes. Right now, I’m wearing a brown and metallic gold calico skirt and thinking about making a bolero jacket to go with it. Between the shalwar, the skirts and my house haori, I think my big goal is to complete my transformation into a pile of cloth.

Tend Reptiles

Or rather, reptile. Or rather, Sophietta. Sophietta is my little albino cornsnake, who hates everything. She’s actually pretty good-natured, but she’s also a snake, and it is given unto snakes to be a little pissy about everything that happens to them unless they are actually devouring something.

Play World of Warcraft
I don’t have a personal Horde or Alliance affiliation, but for the record, I’d like to play on the side that commits the fewest genocides. I’ve been playing for a year and some change, and I don’t know which side that means.**

Windowbox Garden
Sometime earlier in the year, I crossed some kind of border and became a crazy plant lady. It started when a guy at last year’s farmer market gave me a coleus sprig that got knocked off a bigger plant and told me to put it in some water. I figured that was just to keep it looking nice, but then I looked down two weeks later and found a root system. The coleus didn’t die over the winter, and somehow, my collection mushroomed to a coleus, a pot of basil, a rosemary plant, a graptosedum and some chocolate mint that I grew from swiped cuttings.

Thursday, we will get back to the writing!

    Coming Soon

How Did You All Get Here?! Or Kannan Fails at Internet Marketing
Things I Can Touch From Where I Am Sitting
Least Sexy Erotica Tropes
*Not exactly true. You’d be surprised what gets looped back to writing in strange and unfortunate ways.
**WoW will never beat my first love, which is Fallout 2. I had never played a video game before Fallout 2, so I was very angry at all these people who wanted me to run errands for them while I was trying to save my village. As you may guess, this led to Problems later on in the game.***
***I think I may have inadvertently committed genocide and doomed the Western seaboard to slavery and terror. It was a depressing ending cinematic.

But It All Began So Well…

I don’t work very hard on first lines. Most of the time, the first line I write is the first line of the story and it survives to see publication. Sometimes I have to do a little bit of tweaking here and there, and in one instance, I realized that I actually had to start the story 6 months in the character’s future.*

So anyway, have 14 first lines. Some of these first lines came from stuff that has been published, and some of it is unfinished and dates back to a time when I was a younger, more innocent, less world-weary erotica writer.***

Without Carnival, there would be no need for Lent, so the people were rioting in the streets, dancing, laughing, eating, and embracing.

The Queen of Faerie’s kisses are cloudy as Baltic amber, cold as diamonds and sweet as cherries.

“You’re so handsome,” the incubus whispered, his lips gently tracing the rim of my ear.

Two weeks after I met her, three days after I knew her name, and a day after the banishment of her stepmother, Eleanor came to live at the castle.

We knew the deal had gone bad when they met us with the tall dogs.

“The commander is a very busy man,” the secretary said smoothly. “I’m sure you understand.”
“So you must be the newest Alice.”
It was a night for drinking and if he had anything in his pocket beyond a pair of green glass earrings and the keys to his apartment, Jean would have been slamming them back.

The djinn has eyes like spinning gold coins and the heat sleeks off of his skin like sheets of water.

When the game got going, when she had fended off the executioner for three months or more, the palace servants offered Shaharazade thick white paper and a pen to write down her tales.

No matter how long he looked at the words, they refused to change.

Kada’s Dog had made its first appearance in the night sky; the flood was coming.

The Ealing Convention signed earlier that year opened Europe’s borders to the citizens of the Gloaming and I was unsurprised to find myself sharing my train compartment with a young man with eyes the color of dark cherries.

The booths were labeled with names that made Hartman think of Oriental teas: Gray Jasmine, Sweet July Flower, Hadrian Sunrise.
Coming Soon:
Possibly Dinner.
5 Stories I Want to Write, 5 Stories I Want To Read
Taste Exceeding My Skill, or Damn It, I STILL Suck Too Much to Write This.
*That resulted in a hemorrhage of something like 20,000 words. **
** Yes, that still hurts, why do you ask?
***So that was about hm, 3 to 4 years ago.

Barking Up the Wrong Tree in the Wrong Forest on the Wrong Afternoon in June

So I’ve been trying to write an erotica story for the past few days. It features a maskmaker, a possessed mask, a place that is not!Venice and I think some flooding canals.* I think it could be a lovely story, and it likely came from a combination of watching a recent Doctor Who episode, looking up paper masks and reading up on Venetian clothing.

For all rights and purposes, the story looks sound. I have a protagonist I don’t hate except personally, a setting, and even a good idea of the way the sex goes. There’s plot, a place to end it, and even some world-building in there.

All that, and it refuses to go.

I did the writer equivalent of walk around it and kick the tires, and I even tried to peer knowledgeably under the hood, but nothing. It wasn’t boring, exactly, but I wasn’t interested.

I wrote the first paragraph, and then I rewrote it. I wrote the last paragraph, rewrote it twice and then scrapped it. I wrote a scrap of dialog and tossed it, too. I wrote an arrangement of limbs that is either the middle of a sex act or an extremely dextrous octopus.

So with nothing to go on, I gave up for the moment, went to bed to write longhand for a bit, and got the first two pages of another story entirely. This one also has unhealthy people who want bad, bad things from each other, but well, what’cha gonna do? It’s still me writing this.

I liked the first story, I still do as a matter of fact, but I think this second one is going to get written, edited and submitted. I will say that getting a sense for this is one of the benefits for having written better than 30 pieces of erotica, but of course now that I say that, I’ve entirely jinxed myself and need to find another career as a sturgeon farmer.

Anyway, it’s bastard cold here for June and tea is being had, so have a good couple days, everyone. See ya soon. ^_^




Coming Soon:


Alternate Careers for Erotica Writers

There’s No Shame in Not Having a Rice Cooker, NONE-WHAT-SO-EVER!



*I’ve resigned myself to the fact that everything sounds stupid when you sum it up. **

** Unless you’re Inigo Montoya: “Buttercup is marry’ Humperdinck in a little less than half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the princess, make our escape… after I kill Count Rugen.” ***

*** For an erotica blog, I talk about The Princess Bride a lot.

Previous Older Entries