Showing posts with label rules. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rules. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Lines, Rules, Limits - #transgressive #forbidden #erotic


Police Line

Are there topics you feel should be unequivocally banned from erotica? Subjects about which you would absolutely never read—or write—in an erotic context? Do you believe there are some literary lines that should never be crossed?

Many people feel this way about rape or other forms of non-consensual sexual activity. Yet studies (here, for example) have shown repeatedly that many women (and some men) fantasize about being raped or forced into sexual activity. In general, these women understand that imagined coercion is very different from real rape. Finding the former arousing does not indicate a desire for the latter. Nevertheless many readers, and publishers, object to exploring this topic in erotica.

What about incest? Despite the difficulty authors experience in publishing fiction that features sexual activity between adult family members, the taboo topic is a turn-on for a significant subset of readers. The wildly popular step-brother romance sub-genre has provided a “safe” way for readers to experience the forbidden thrill of being attracted to a close relation. I personally consider this as a bit dishonest. I’ve had incestuous dreams about my own brother. I’d never act on them, but that doesn’t mean the dreams weren’t a turn-on.

Bestiality? If sexual activity involving animals is so horrifying, why are shifter stories so successful? Not to mention the cryptozoological “taken by bigfoot” sub-genre? Forcing oneself upon a dumb animal in the real world would be immoral, but the beasts in erotic fiction tend to be anthropomorphised. The human participants feel some sort of sexual connection with the horny dog or the sleek, predatory tiger. I’ve read some amazing erotica based on human attraction to animals. Does that mean I plan to have sex with my cat? Of course not.

Sex with children may be a hard line. Adults getting sexual with kids too young to object or to understand is definitely wrong. There are no extenuating circumstances. But how do you define “young”? Is fourteen too young? That’s how old I was when I gave away my virginity, to a guy who was twenty. I knew exactly what I was doing (well, in theory, at least). During the teen years, desire is confusing and inchoate, but overwhelming in its power. Memories of that period, when every emotion cuts to the quick, offer tremendous possibilities for meaningful and moving—as well as tremendously arousing—erotic fiction.

My clearest personal line involves erotic fiction that portrays inflicting serious violence, physical harm or death as arousing. I avoid such stories when I can. I’ve read enough erotica, though, to know that not everyone agrees with this boundary. Are the people who write such stuff fundamentally evil? Am I qualified to judge?

These are not easy questions to answer. If you think they are, I believe that you’re fooling yourself.

The core issue relates to another kind of line: the line between imagination and reality. Is someone who finds a taboo topic arousing in fiction likely to perform such actions in real life? I’d argue that most readers of erotica distinguish very clearly between the fantasies evoked by erotic fiction, no matter how extreme, and the life they live outside of books.

Of course there are individuals who do enact this sort of forbidden scenario in the real world. There are men who kidnap women and hold them prisoners in their basements for years, who secretly abuse grade school kids, who screw their prepubescent daughters. These people have always existed. Does our writing about the sort of crimes they perpetrate encourage these people to commit these crimes?

Does an author who writes about a serial killer encourage murderers in the real world?

How much of the horror that people express about various taboo topics is rational, and how much is based on their personal discomfort? I will leave that question open for you to ponder.

Publishers and online venues don’t want to make readers uncomfortable. They’re also worried about getting in trouble with the law. Hence, they establish various rules about what content is and is not acceptable. These rules tend to be idiosyncratic, depending on both the personal beliefs of the owners or operators and their perception of their market. For instance, I had a publisher reject one of my stories once because they had a policy prohibiting the portrayal of priests and nuns in erotica. In the romance world, very few publishers will accept any work that includes bodily fluids (“golden showers” or “scat”) even though there’s no legal reason for them to reject such stories (and it’s possible to write about these topics with both grace and heat). These publishers are convinced their readership will find such content “gross”.

Perhaps you will consider me an incorrigible reprobate, but I am in favor. I believe we should have as few rules as possible.

In my view, erotica should not only turn readers on, but should also expand their perspectives. Sex is inextricably intertwined with so many other emotionslove, guilt, ambition, shame, anger, and compassion, to name just a few. Erotica derives its singular power from this psychological complexity. It’s not a safe genre, or at least it shouldn’t be. Sometimes the most arousing stories are the most disturbing.

Does that mean nothing is sacred, nothing forbidden? That’s something each of us has to answer for ourselves. There are few, if any red lines that I can discern. Defining what is and is not acceptable in erotica is a dangerously slippery slope.

Red lines in erotica remind me a bit of limits in BDSM. Limits are personalthe activities I totally reject might be the ones that most turn you on. Furthermore, limits can change over time. Tomorrow I might consider doing something that terrifies or squicks me today. Finally, the most erotic BDSM encounters often result from pushing limitsmoving beyond the edge of what’s comfortable and familiar into new experiences and new insights.


Friday, May 6, 2016

Don't Be a Sheep (#bdsm #creativity #conformity)

Fitting in. Being popular. Looking hip. When you’re a teenager, that’s what you want more than anything. I was no different from any other teen, back then or today. I’d have long arguments with my mother about why she wouldn’t buy me nylons until I was thirteen, or why I had to wear ugly snow boots to school, or why I couldn’t shave my legs yet.

But Mom,” I’d whine. “All the girls wear stockings.”

So what?” she’d respond. “Why do you need to be like everyone else? Do you want to be a sheep?”

The disdain in her voice made it clear that conformity for its own sake was something she held in very low regard. Arguments based on following the prevailing views or actions of the majority almost never succeeded.

At the time, I found her insistence on individualism annoying and frustrating. As I grew older, though, I realized that this was some of the best advice she ever gave me. I’ve made some unconventional choices in my life. I’ve done things “most people” wouldn’t even consider. And all things considered, I think I’m happier and more fulfilled because I haven’t followed a standard, mass-approved path.

Don’t be a sheep” applies to my writing as well. I don’t choose what I am going to write based on what’s currently hot in the market. In fact, I take perverse delight in challenging the current literary fashions, taking stereotypes or genre tropes and turning them on their heads.

That was the genesis of my new erotic romance The Gazillionaire and the Virgin. Some time after the release of FSOG, I was chatting with my blog mates. One of my friends said, “If I read about another romance about a brooding, dominant gazillionaire hunk and a shy, inexperienced virgin, I think I’ll upchuck.”

Great title, I thought. But what if the obscenely rich gazillionaire was the heroine? And the hero was virgin?

That was all it took to send me off on a genre-busting quest to create a sexy and romantic tale about a woman who has it all and the inexperienced but naturally dominant nerd she falls for.



I can almost hear you thinking. A virgin hero in erotic romance? How could that possibly work? I don’t want to read something so weird. Everyone likes alpha heroes— like the guys in thousands of other BDSM erotic romance novels.

My answer? Be a bit adventurous. Give The Gazillionaire and the Virgin a try. If you like BDSM-themed erotic romance with both heat and heart, I think you’ll enjoy it.

Don’t be a sheep.

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Monday, June 17, 2013

“Independent Body Parts”: A Defense

A few days ago I reviewed the second round of edits – what my publisher calls final line edits – for my upcoming release Challenge to Him. In general, I had no problem accepting the suggested changes to wording and punctuation. I didn't necessarily agree that the one POV problem the editor highlighted really was a problem, but if she thought it would be clearer if modified, I was ready to go along. For the most part I don't view my words as sacred, so I rarely object to reasonable changes.

I've noticed, though, that each editor has pet issues she tends to focus on. I had one editor who insisted on striking every instance of the word “that” introducing a dependent clause after a verb of sensation or thought. For example, if I wrote:

Henrietta thought that she'd never recover from Harold's treachery.

This editor would revise the sentence as:

Henrietta thought she'd never recover from Harold's treachery.

I agree the two sentence are equivalent in meaning, and the second is more concise than the first. However, sometimes the rhythm of a sentence requires the additional beat of that extra word. Furthermore, I like some variety in my sentence structures. So I accepted most of her edits, but retained a few “thats” where they seemed to fit.

Anyway, my most recent line editor really had a bee in her bonnet concerning “independent body parts”, often abbreviated as IBP.

In case you've never met the dreaded IBP, this term refers to sentences where some part of a character's body becomes the subject of an action verb. For example:

Her eyes followed him as he strode across the room.

His fingers crept up her thigh and under her skirt.

His tongue poked rudely into her mouth.

Some novice authors overuse this kind of sentence, often to the point of silliness. Because of this tendency, editors have become hypersensitive to these constructions, brandishing their red pen whenever one appears.

However, there is nothing a priori wrong with using a body part as a sentence subject in this way. This is an accepted category of  figurative language. It even has a name: synecdoche.  Synecdoche is the practice of referring to a part when you mean the whole, or vice versa.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synecdoche

Sentences that are labeled as IBP are not intended to be construed literally. Of course her eyes stayed in her head as he walked across the room – no reasonable reader would think otherwise. Yes, most likely he was in control of those fingers – they weren't acting on their own -  but the synecdoche focuses the readers' attention on the stealthy progress of those digits, perhaps even as their owner continues to converse in a normal way.

An occasional “IBP” sentence is not a flaw, in my opinion. When I construct my paragraphs, I do so deliberately, with an eye to diversity and flow. The alternative to using IBP is often to have every sentence beginning with a name or pronoun. This gets boring after a while.

The so-called rule about avoiding IBPs may be helpful to novice authors. The trouble is, it's really not a rule, anymore than the guidelines about avoiding passive voice are rules. English is a gloriously rich language with an enormous repertoire of sentence structures and rhetorical devices. An accomplished author should not shy away from using the ones that she believes her story needs.