Erotica meets thriller

Ok, ok, I'm here, don't panic. And yes, I'm going to tell you about my story The Guerilla's Plaything in the new collection, Snatched, from Storm Moon Press. 

Here's the blurb for the anthology, which is a collection of three m/m stories of an erotica-meets-thriller flavour (44,500 words total):

Any hunter will tell you part of the satisfaction is in the chase as well as the triumphant capture of their prey. In Snatched, the focus is on the eroticism of the power play between men and their male captors. Sometimes romance ensues, sometimes just a good amount of steamy sex, but in all cases, the effects of one character being in utter control of the man he has captured takes center stage. The appeal is in the erotic dominance and the way the captive would try to escape if he could, whether he truly wants to deep down or not.

And here's a little intro to my story:

Thomas is determined not to let the fights with his boyfriend, John, ruin his vacation in the tropical rain forests of Ecuador. But when he steps off the trail, he steps into danger as he is taken captive by guerrilla freedom fighters. Held against his will, he nonetheless finds himself developing an attraction to the man who both arouses and repels him. And as his captivity weighs on him, Thomas finds that being The Guerrilla's Plaything is not the worst fate he can envision...

Available now from Storm Moon Press, Amazon and Amazon UK.

Coming soon...

I may not be writing much at the moment, but because of the publishing time lag, I do still have things to shout about. Hurrah! Here's a sweet little cover for the forthcoming Storm Moon Press anthology, Snatched, a gay (male) collection of what you might call longer shorts. My story, The Guerilla's Plaything is, in fact, the longest story I've produced, at more than 13,000 words. I shall tell you more soon...

Men in leather

No, not like that. Like this:

Smouldering, no?

And how about this cutie?

Or do you prefer him with the wet look?

They are Santiago Cabrera and Luke Pasqualino from the new Musketeers series on BBC1. The formula of the show itself seems to bear striking resemblances to the Robin Hood series the Beeb did a few years ago, but I reckon I'll keep tuning in. There's something about a fringe falling over the eyes...

Dwarf hotness

I bring you this aside to tell you that I finally got round to watching The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Being a proper LotR geek, I never expect much from these cinematographic distractions, which can in no way measure up to the force of Tolkien's words combined with my imagination. Then the dwarves appeared. Including this one, Kili, played by Aidan Turner. Now I understand.

Getting into character

Simon Neil, Biffy Clyro

Ok, so having said that I like writing shorts, I am now trying to make progress on the long, the novel, the proper book. The first-person narrator is Jeremy, a normal working-class bloke who's a natural dom. I'm having to write a character profile, because I'm struggling to get into his head. I have no trouble writing from a male viewpoint, but male and straight and naturally dominant is fucking with my brain. 

So I've written him a little confessional-type history and then I thought, I could do with some visuals of what this guy looks like. Now, he can't be the besuited, billionaire business type currently beloved of erotic romance, because I can't stand a man in a suit and if I was a man I certainly wouldn't be one who dressed smartly. I'd be one who favoured jeans and t-shirts but had probably mellowed from his younger days as a messy-haired, grungy kind of dude. So I looked up some hunky rockers. And what did I find? Not one from my list of fanciables who has a dominant look in his eyes, damnit. This probably says more about my taste than it does about hunky rockers in general. But it's also useful in its own way, because, as I've probably said a million times before, I hate stereotypes. And what could be more delicious than a dominant man who's confident enough in himself to show a little vulnerability on occasion?

Anyway, here's the start of the character profile:

Jared Leto, 30 Seconds to Mars

Hi, my name’s Jeremy and I like to hurt women.

That’s how I imagine it would start, my confessional at some kind of Sadists’ Anonymous.

And how long have you had these feelings, Jeremy?

This is more like how I imagine the psychiatrist’s consultation would go. As long as I can remember, I’d say. I used to tie up my sister’s dolls and dangle them over the steam from the kettle spout by their luscious blonde hair. She had so many, she didn’t notice when I took one, stripped off its wide, pink princess dress and buried it upside down in the soil at the bottom of the garden so just its legs were sticking out. Well, its legs and bum, which was about the extent of my anatomical knowledge back then.

I vividly remember the Saturday teatime programmes in which someone was most likely to get captured and threatened with all manner of devious tortures. Only threatened, mind you, this was family viewing. I was the Sheriff of Nottingham, the bad guy who snatched Daisy Duke, Indie gone bad when he locks Willie in the cage in The Temple of Doom. I drew the line at being Jabba the Hutt...

Guest - Oleander Plume

I have the fantabulous Oleander Plume visiting today, talking about her first foray into writing erotica. She's my book-fellow in The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance. Her story is both sexy and funny and uses the amazing phrase: 'Oh, holy sweet shit on a cracker.' Here she is:

I used to write erotica with the door locked and the shades drawn. Sure, I tell various friends and family members that I 'write', but I never give details. The only one that I let in on my little secret is my husband. How I broke the news to him is kind of a funny story. It went something like this:

Me: Um, you know I've been writing a lot more lately.

Him (he was staring at a football game on ESPN): Yeah, I know, the laundry is really piling up.

Me: Well, I have a short story I'd really like you to read.

Him (still staring at TV): Okay, yeah, sure.

Me: It's different from my usual stuff, um, it's dirty.

His head jerked my direction so fast I thought he was going to have whiplash.

Him: Huh?

Me: Yeah. I'm writing smut now, it's what I do.

Him (wearing a large grin): Can I read it now? (he grabbed for my laptop)

Me: Fine, but don't laugh at me. And don't judge me. And don't tell anybody.

Him: Shh, reading.

I sat next to him on the couch, wringing my hands and turning five different shades of red. He started sweating, and shifting in his seat.

Him: Holy shit.

Me: Do you hate it? Oh, crap, I should have never let you...

Him: Shh, reading.

Occasionally he would glance at me with a stunned expression on his face. I need to mention, he's a slow reader, so watching him read is like watching paint dry. Finally, he got to the end. He sort of nodded, then looked at me.

Him (shrugs): It's good.

Me: It's good? That's all you have to say? You're really saying you hated it, right?

Him (he gave me a glare, then lifted the laptop): Does it look like I hated it?

Me: Oh. OHHHHHHHHHH!

Incidentally, that story went on to win a contest. Consequently, I use him as my barometer before I send anything out. It's a body part that never lies.

*****

Thanks for visiting, Oleander! You can get your hands on a copy of The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance at  Amazon.com, Amazon UK, All Romance and Smashwords.

And you can find Oleander blogging at oleanderplume.blogspot.co.uk and tweeting @OleanderPlume.
And you can comment to tell me how to get rid of the damn white background, should you so wish.

Pretty picture

Seems I'm all about the pictures lately. You might call it lazy, and I wouldn't be offended, but I'm going to call it that pesky thing known as real life.

I've only recently started to explore Tumblr. I know, I'm decades behind the times. But this is my favourite picture so far. It's by Creative Intoxication on Deviant Art.

Teaser time

Here's a little taste of my story in The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance. Vicky has been out on a date, but all she can think about is her flatmate and his boyfriend, who are spending a rare quiet night in together at her place. She ends the date early and rushes home, hoping to catch them cuddling on the sofa... or maybe even listen in to them in the bedroom. But what she finds is much more than that and has been inspired by something the guys found lurking on her laptop after she failed to shut it down properly...

I hear the TV straight away as I unlock the door. At least, I think it’s the TV when I first hear voices through speakers. “Hi guys, I’m home.” They’re still on the sofa, but all my fantasies have not adequately prepared me for what I see. Not when it’s right there, right in front of me on my antique burgundy leather couch. They’re both buck naked. But that’s a minor consideration. Will is lying across Jake’s lap face down, his ass raised on the top of Jake’s thighs.

They freeze as I come into the room, but they don’t jump up and start making excuses, which is probably because Will is in no fit state to jump anywhere. Not with his wrists and ankles bound with two of my silk scarves. My laptop is open on the coffee table, the film I watched earlier playing quietly in the background. Not the TV. That’s blank, reflecting Jake and Will’s positions back to me even as I try to do the decent thing and look away. Will’s got a knotted tea towel tied in his mouth and a little voice at the back of my mind says, “He’d better not be drooling on my antique burgundy leather couch.”

“Fuck. Vicky. We weren’t expecting you home so early.”

You can buy from Amazon.com, Amazon UK, All Romance and Smashwords.

New release: Women and gay romance

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Ethical Debate is Just Thrilling

I've been thinking lately about the ethics of the eroticised thriller as a subgenre of erotica. I read one book in which a male agent was made to unwillingly submit to a variety of BDSM practices as part of a double bluff. The storyline was presented such that if the agent was let in on the secret, he may have blown the mission. One reviewer wrote: 'Abuse and assault sold as BDSM' and 'If you call it BDSM, then write real BDSM. Don't package non-consensual torture as BDSM.' 

I know I'm getting heavy here, talking ethics 'n stuff. I've been spending too much time reading discussions on The Guardian website about the EU debate on banning porn. Some food for thought here: 'Porn for all, not a ban is better for women' and here: 'Who speaks for women who work in the adult industry?' Some of the comments are amusing in an entirely immature way. They get onto strap-ons, sperm whales and insulting each other's mothers.

I've seen various plot devices which allow all manner of things to be done to people that they might not have expressly asked for: enchantments, drugs, vampire magic, complicated psychology, different societal norms. The good stuff is a million miles from the stories in which people with low self-esteem have to be 'persuaded' that really they're naturally submissive - despite this never having occurred to them before - by some domineering asshole. So I don't think you can draw up rules about this. It's about intelligent writing. It's about awareness of the issues. And it's about how your work makes you feel about yourself as a writer. 

I was going to get into discussion of where you draw the line, why erotica is different from other genres in which nasty things happen to nice people, why you can get away with more in fantasy or pseudo-history, why it seems like men sometimes get it rougher and how sexist that is. But then I thought, to hell with that, I'll just post some sexy pictures from movies and TV of men in oh-so-terribly perilous situations. It's the movies people, it ain't real. And Velvet Tripp has already covered issues of consent in BDSM writing at the Deliciously Deviant blog.

I do apologise for my inability to sort out the layout of this blog template! It's not exactly user friendly.







Pictured, from top: Daniel Craig and Javier Bardem in Skyfall, Ryan Reynolds in Blade: Trinity, Richard Armitage in Strike Back, Joaquin Phoenix and Russell Crowe in Gladiator, Jensen Ackles and, er, Paris Hilton in Supernatural.

Research: Mud and yeast

The list of anthologies I want to submit stories to is growing again, mostly thanks to Alison Tyler's Trollop with a Laptop blog and the Erotic Readers and Writers Association calls for submissions page.

In the course of research, and I won't be revealing which call this is for, I've been viewing pictures of fit, muscular guys running, crawling, swinging and floundering through fields of mud, pools of ice, walls of flame and dangly bits of electrified wire. It's a hard life being a writer, I tell you. The pictures are from Tough Mudder, obstacle courses designed by British Special Forces for the kind of people who've got bored of Ironman triathlons.

They hand out beer instead of water at the end, which is an extremely tenuous link to the next topic of research, sourdough bread. It's all about men who can bake. All that kneading must lead to strong hands and well-honed forearms. And those big ovens make it oh-so-hot.

Thoughts: A bit of rough

I read something that got me thinking about romantic heroes the other day. It's probably a good job I can't remember where I read it. But it suggested that the chiselled, strong, successful Alpha male is universally loved by female readers of erotic fiction. It definitely used the word 'universally', which first made me think, 'What about lesbians?' and secondly made me think, 'What about me?' Because I like my romantic heroes to be quirky, flawed, rough around the edges, sometimes unsure of themselves like the rest of us. I wondered whether I am truly perverse in the widest sense of the term. I don't equate money or status with success, for example. I find perfection dull. I find glistening, muscular, hairless torsos objects of bizarre fascination rather than desire.

And there's a major subgenre of romantic fiction dedicated to the admiration of 'a bit of rough'. I was thinking about this as I re-read DH Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover a while back. First published in Italy in 1928, it wasn't openly available in the UK until 1960 because of its graphic descriptions of sex and use of words like 'cunt'. But its dangerous subversion of class boundaries was probably equally to blame. Compared with the wonderful erotica we have around now, it's pretty tame stuff. But what it does share with a big chunk of today's sex fiction is the fascination of a well-bred woman fucking a bit of rough. It's just that in contemporary terms it's a professional career woman perhaps seeking excitement with the pool boy, a squaddie or the scruffily gorgeous rogue from the travelling fair.

And no, this whole post wasn't entirely an excuse for a picture of Sean Bean, seen here playing Mellors in the 1993 BBC adaptation. No, it really wasn't.

Picture special

September is bringing a fair few changes here and it's going to take a few weeks before I settle into a new routine. I'm hoping to have more time to write regularly and to launch a proofreading business. I will, of course, have more time to exercise. Honest. Although, at this precise moment, the urge to cook comfort food is also strong. I suspect that frying falafel next to a laptop is not advised.

At the moment I have the beginnings of about 12 stories in my files. This is how I like to write. I guess authors who've been doing it for years probably plan better and get it right first time. But I have an idea and I like to set it down, see where it goes and how hot it really is. I think the important thing in doing this is that I'm not afraid to totally rewrite these first ramblings. I do a fair amount of rewriting at work and am undaunted at the thought of shredding a story to pieces and rebuilding it.

Now, before my falafel burn, I'm taking the cop-out route today and giving you some pretty pictures of totty to inspire your own erotic ramblings.

Here's Simon Neil, the singer from fabulous Scottish rockers Biffy Clyro in a video for their track, The Captain. The poor wee thing finds himself tied up, flogged and caged. Somebody rescue that man. But not just yet.

What about English actor Richard Armitage playing John Porter in the telly series Strike Back. Don't tell them anything, Richard.

Ah, a classic. Harrison Ford as a beat-up looking Indiana Jones. Check out the calm defiance in those eyes.

Two hotties together in a rather unequal stand-off. Joaquin Phoenix and Russell Crowe in Gladiator. But Maximus is the one who somehow maintains his dignity despite being chained to the wall.

Those Supernatural boys do find themselves in perilous situations a lot. Probably explains why I have all the box sets. Here's Dean (Jensen Ackles) bound to a tree. I love the great outdoors.

And here's a man who knows how to handle his big weapon. Sean Bean as Richard Sharpe. Finest bit of rough I could find on the internet.