Posts Tagged 'Gay Erotica'

Too Long for a Short


threeI’ve long been a lover of short fiction, and my path into writing came from that direction, too. My first published work with Bold Strokes was a short story, “Three,” that was accepted in an anthology of gay vampire erotica, Blood Sacraments.


When I wrote “Three,” I’d recently re-read Dracula (I often read books on a similar theme when I’m trying to spark an idea for a short story), and I’d been inspired by Dracula’s three wives. They’ve always struck me as a strange part of the narrative: who were they? Why were they there? Why three of them?


What came from those musings was the kernel of the idea for “Three.” I wondered what it would be like if the various supernatural beings of the world—not just vampires, mind you, but demons, and werewolves, and even wizards, say—became more powerful if they created groups of three or more. From there, I decided to make it even more important: those who weren’t a member of a group of three or more had, in fact, less power, less resistance, and were easily kicked around by those who did have a group to call their own.


In another moment of inspiration, I decided to play with the “must be a full moon” notion about how things get a little wild and crazy on the nights of the full moon by making the three nights the moon is full be the time those groups gathered and reinforced their bonds with each other. That left the ones flying solo relatively safe to run amok and try to get their own needs met—all within three crazy nights.


“Three,” then, became a short story about a vampire without a group of his own, Luc, trying to get himself through another month by delving out on the first of those three nights of relative freedom. Instead, he bumps into a rival (a demon who is also on his own, Anders) and the two of them butt heads (and then other parts) when they discover Curtis, a handsome young man they’d both like to spend the evening with who proves curiously resistant to their influence.


Once written, I was happy with how the story turned out, and even happier when it was accepted. As always, the editing tightened the story, and that was that.




Later there was another call, this time a gay erotica collection with a theme for angels, Wings, and I couldn’t help but think of my demon, Anders, from “Three,” and before I knew it, I’d written a sequel. After that, it seemed sort of unfair to have a story about two out of three of the guys, but that was solved when Erotica Exotica appeared.


There, I thought. Three characters, three stories. These guys are done. I was chuffed when I received quite a bit of e-mail and comments from readers about the three guys, and was glad I’d spent time revisiting the characters. Especially Anders, the demon, who appeared to be a fan favourite, if short fiction could be said to have fans.


Then Raising Hell appeared, and really, how could Anders not come out to play another time when the opportunity for a demonic gay erotica collection appeared? This story, though, was much harder work, and the original attempts I made at writing my first idea wouldn’t fit in the word count. I ended up scrapping two ideas before the third one worked under the word count limit.


After that, I really did think I was done. I tinkered with the other two ideas a couple of times, seeing if I could get them into shape for a potential anthology sometime far off in the future, but no, the concepts were too big for short fiction.


The “Aha!” moment was more like a face palm moment, really. When I was trying to figure out what major project to work on after Light was finished, I had made little cue cards of all my ideas, and one of the cue cards read “more Triad.” When my husband saw it—I should have mentioned he’s one of the biggest fans I’ve got of the Triad guys—he said, “Oh! Yes! Do that one. Write a Triad novel.”


“Oh, I didn’t mean—“ I started, but then stopped. When I’d written the cue card, I hadn’t meant a novel. I’d meant work on more short stories. But, like I said, facepalm moment.


There was a reason those short stories weren’t working.


They weren’t short stories.


Triad BloodI sent in the pitch for Triad Blood, it was accepted, and I got to work. Writing with Luc, Curtis, and Anders was like putting on a comfortable sweater. I knew them already, their voices were already pretty solid, and once I gave myself permission to grow the story ideas rather than try and cut them back, those two ideas—and a third—tangled up together into one ongoing narrative that became the novel. It was a blast to write, and though writing a novel will always be hard work, and I’ll always love the short fiction process more, stepping these guys from a series of short stories into their first novel was so much less painful than writing a novel from a blank slate.


I hope readers have as much fun reading the fellas in a full length novel as I had writing one. Even better? Bold Strokes is doing an amazing thing all through May: if you pick up any of their titles in e-format, you get “Three” (that original short story that introduces the Triad guys) as a free e-short story. Reformatted on its own with a truly lovely fellow on the cover representing Luc. Seriously. French Canadian vampire never looked so good.


Going back to the very beginning was a real joy, and seeing how far the characters had come was a lot of fun. And sending off the final proof copies for this novel was bittersweet. It really had been a blast to play with these guys again.


Of course, when I finished Triad Blood, I was once again sitting with my pile of cue cards and thinking about what my next project should be.


My husband leaned in the room and just said, “Really?”

I’m working on Triad Soul now.

Never Stop, Never Give Up

          By Sawyer Caine


I have always enjoyed writing as a kind of escapism from the drudgery of reality. No matter how well we cover our bases, the real world easily turns a homerun into a foul. However, writing is not without its risks. I compare writing to art in the sense that the author is an artist putting his or her work out there for the public to judge. It causes some of us to be a bit neurotic but I think that goes with the territory. I felt the urge to begin writing in earnest when I was about twelve. I actually composed a semi-erotic piece of what is now called fanfiction based on the anime Robotech. Yes, I do date myself when I admit that. At any rate, it was my first foray into the amazing world of fiction writing. From that point on out, I was hooked. Though I do blush when I look back at my beginning and how pathetic that first attempt was, I feel an extreme sense of accomplishment at becoming a published author; one of my life’s goals.

I felt compelled to write my first book, when I was studying about the 1930’s. I began to see the characters in my head and to imagine what sort of escapades I could place them in. Drawing from my love of history, I began to research and put it all together. I carry a notepad with me at all times and would stop in the middle of my workday to jot down some little bit of inspiration. I think that I connect most with Lord Alfred in this story. Though he is selfish, greedy, and pushes on with his own desires even though he realizes the consequences, his perseverance to reach his goal inspires me. The strongest character is no doubt his American lover Frederick, who endures a great deal of pain in order to hold onto the man he loves. The story is set in the Amazon jungle, an element rich with scenery that lends itself well to a steamy backdrop. The tale is rich with discovery, adventure, mystery, eroticism, romance, and a hint of the paranormal. The Black Orchid has an Indiana Jones-ish quality that will appeal to readers who love sensual mystery.



The second book I published with Bold Strokes was. I wrote this book over about a six-month period during which I was inspired by New Orleans and the glamor of Hollywood. I wanted to combine then both into a raunchy, yet romantic drama. The main character Ash, is flawed in many ways and he realizes it. He is mysteriously bound to his best friend, a famous movie star. Ash is surprised by the sudden attraction he feels for Gavin, the younger brother of his best friend. As the story unfolds, clues about the bond between Ash and Gavin’s older brother begin to surface. The boys engage in a wild ride of sex, drugs, alcohol and debauchery in the Big Easy before Ash’s secret comes back to haunt them. Life throws many roadblocks in the way of this couple, just as it does for all of us. I wanted to show the gritty reality of Ash’s existence and the choices he’d been forced to make, while also letting his vulnerabilities come through. Gavin, though somewhat bratty and insecure is the exact counterbalance that Ash is looking for in his life; someone he can love and protect. Readers looking for a hot, sexy romance, stepped with a little bit of mystery, will enjoy this book.



I will be back in May to discuss my third book, New York Nights and I’m looking forward to that with much anticipation. Before signing off, I would like to leave a word of encouragement to fledgling writers. Never stop and never give up. Keep striving and perfecting your craft and eventually, someone will notice!

The Riting Life or all Misspellings and Typos Being the Intent of the Author

By David Holly

Witch title brigs us to a discusion (sic) of tgpfgrapal errors (sic), otherwise known as the writer’s inability to spell authorial brain farts—or finger farts because the brain is imagining a story that is travelling by neural impulse down the writer’s neck and down the writer’s arms and into the writer’s fingers and coming out the pads of the writer’s fingers onto a keyboard (sick). Oh, my God—The Humanity!


On a purely personal note, I write to avoid clichés like the plague, clichés in language and clichés of thought that rain down like cats and dogs. I write to avoid allegory that brings a tempest in a tea pot or sentimentality as American as apple pie. However, there is always some sentimentality that will wiggle in on pretty puppy paws and wag its tail until I give it a bed in my manuscript, and there is always the lurking cliché, the cliché that is so cliché and so lurking that it hits the nail on the head so well I don’t even recognize it as a cliché, because it creeps in lurkingly (on little puppy paws) and toes the line.


Then too, and by too I mean also and added on, there is repetition, which repeats repetitively until it repeats itself beyond all previous repetitions. I can’t say enough about this problem.


As one of my college professors warned his befuddled student (me) so long ago, the writer must suppress his or her sesquipedalian tendencies and eschew obfuscation. So we pick the perfect word, but it turns out not to be so perfect because the readers think it means something the writer never intended.


Take my novel, The Raptures of TimeThe Raptures of Time 300 DPI (yes, please take it, and by take I mean buy the damned book because it needs to sell ten million copies because it’s brilliant and meaningful and thrilling and it will give you a hard on—even if you are a female).


When I fished about for a title for The Raptures of Time, and as Thoreau wrote, time was a stream that I went a fishing in, I spent a hell of a lot of time seeking a word that would convey the idea of being carried away through time and another dimension while also being carried away by extreme sexual ecstasy. Certainly the primary meaning of rapture is being lifted up, even out of oneself, by gusty emotions or sexual transport. The first known use of the word rapture occurred in 1594, a while before John Nelson Darby came along and applied the term to Christian eschatology and created the “rapture” of dispensationalism.


Could I have ever considered that my title might lead readers to assume falsely that my gay erotic novel might connect up with the so-called Left Behind series?


So take note, fellow authors, beware, for you too may be rabidly incoherent and end up mentally masturbating metaphorically instead of writing something meaningful and profound like these meaningful and profound words of expert advice.





What made you decide to become a fiction writer?

Ever since I was a small child, I have had many different stories running around in my head.  It’s like a catharsis to get them down on paper so they aren’t taking all my attention.  I enjoy looking at the world around me and converting others’ personal experiences into fictional stories.


What type of stories do you write?  And why?

I enjoy writing a wide variety of stories.  I have written horror, suspense, paranormal, comedy, and drama, but I most enjoy stories with heavy emotional and romantic overtones. I feel those types of stories speak personally to the reader.


What do your family/friends think about your writing?

My family is very supportive of my writing.  They are my best critics!


Where do you get your ideas?

I am inspired by the people and situations around me.  The stories I create usually have some basis in my real life.


How do you write; do you plan everything out or just write?

It’s kind of a variety of both.  I sometimes have a story planned out from beginning to end, and other times, I just put my fingers to the keyboard and allow the story to take its own path.


What makes The Black Orchid  special to you?

Black Orchid BSB-BlackOrchidwas challenging to write due the historical element and my desire to make my depictions of what life was like in that time and place as accurate as possible.  A lot of research went into the story before I could ever begin writing.  During the creative phase, I was inspired by art, music, and history as well as an appreciation of the local culture, both British and Venezuelan.


How much of yourself and the people you know are in your characters?

I think that many times the characters’ reactions to the situations I present them with echo how I myself would react.  I try to bring an element of realism to each one of my characters by drawing on the personalities of those around me.


Which gay/lesbian authors inspired you the most?  Do you have a favorite

of this author(s)?

I have to say that it’s a tie between A.J. Rose and Lynn Kelling.  Lynn’s characters are so strong that even in their most desperate moments they reach out to the reader.  A.J.’s writing has always spoken to me in a personal way.  Both he and Lynn are excellent writers in this genre.


Do you have any suggestions for new writers?

Don’t be afraid to put your story out there.  It’s daunting to submit for publishing the first time.  It’s like the world can now read and critique your personal thoughts.  Your story is your work of art and some people won’t get it, but you may inspire and touch the hearts of others.  Never be afraid to share your gift.


When you’re not writing what do you do for fun?

Actually, writing is what I do for fun!  I like to spend time with my family, travel, listen to music, garden, and practice sustainable living.

The Rear


When I was young, much younger than I am now, guys would habitually make unsolicited, albeit most satisfying, compliments about my posterior (admittedly shapely and well-honed in those days). “You have beautiful buns, man,” a passing Jim, Ricardo, Mikhail, or Abdul would say as I strolled through a park, down a sidewalk, or along a beach.

While attending college, I worked a variety of jobs, usually behind the desk of a hotel, and it was no unusual occurrence to feel an exploring hand on the curves of my rump. Then the male switchboard operator named Garcia or the bellboy named Stein would flatter me with “nice ass.”

These compliments and random gropings happened in other places besides the workplace, most commonly in the grocery store. Of course, the grocery butt gropers were more often the female of the species. Nice to hear the compliment, but the gender role was not to my taste.

Lest any reader think I’m bragging, let me own up, with a sad heart, that the days when men would worship my rump are behind me (pathetic pun intended). In the absence of compliments on my butt curves, I compensate by turning pen to paper (a metaphor for pounding finger pads upon a keyboard). I attract not, so now I write.

However, the human gluteal region—especially the bum of the male of the species—provides particular problems for the gay author: what to call it, and how to make it sound enticing.

Some of the names for the rear end are depressingly technical: gluteal region, glutes, buttocks, gluteus maximus. In these words, the thrill is lacking.

Some have a crude sound, as if this delightful body part were unattractive. No sane author is going to write “your tuchas drives me wild with lust,” because the Yiddish word tuchas implies “ever widening,” which is perhaps not the intended compliment. Can, keister or keester, nates, hams, bum, and wazoo just don’t sound enticing. An author writing, “I was hot for his wazoo” or “I want to get into your keister” is more likely to provoke a laugh than an arousal.

Other names are cutesy, but not erotic, such as haunches, hunkies, hunkers, prat, heiney or heinie. Some words are neutral in themselves; nonetheless, fundament, posterior, backside, behind, hind end, tail end, rear end, hind part, and hinder part, can be made more erotic with adjectives.

“Nice posterior, guy.”

“I love your sexy rear end.”

“Provocative backside.”

The alternatives bootie or booty, buns, and cheeks aren’t so bad.

“Nice booty.”

“Cute buns.”

“Hot looking cheeks.”

Neither are seat, seater, stern, hips, curves, breech, tush or tooshie, breech, caboose, cheeks, duff, fanny.

Ass, butt, rump, rear, bottom are okay but not so erotic. Ass is an Americanism for the British arse and generally works well. For example, in my novel The Moon’s Deep Circle, bsb_the_moons_deep_circle_small__26137my character Tip is aroused sexually by a mere glance at his teammate’s ass: “The curves of Jeep’s ass were enticing, and my cock was soaring.” In another passage in The Moon’s Deep Circle, I write, “Lyle’s eyes were transfixed on Tizzy’s curvy buttocks,” evoking the power of the human posterior to hold another person in thrall.

From my novel The Raptures of Time:The Raptures of Time 300 DPI “He caressed my ass as if he were worshiping it. His hands massaged my buttocks gently, sliding slowly into the crack.” I have to believe that the description works.

Butts are nice to ogle, but difficult to write about. In the end, call this divine form what you will, its delightful curves and sweet invitations deserve a comfortable seat in gay fiction.


Two great tastes…but do they go great together?


Hey! You got sex in my horror! No! You got horror in my sex!

What’s all the bickering about? Isn’t that a delicious combo? Does the inclusion of sex in horror fiction automatically make it “erotic” horror? It seems in the world of publishing, heavy sexual content scores you an “erotica” label, just like we expect a penis in a movie to get slapped…with an NC-17 rating. But isn’t there a distinct difference between sex and erotica depending on its purpose within the context of a story and its effect on the reader?

Either way, you would think that in the world of LGBTQ fiction, expressing our sexuality openly in our stories would be embraced. Hell. It should be encouraged! Instead, we need the prudish “erotic” warning label to protect our virgin minds from unsavory adult content!

It often seems that the inclusion of sex in a book has readers holding crossed fingers up to it as if they’re warding off a vampire with a crucifix or stamping an X rating on the book. And so, any books that feature sexual situations get the old “erotic” subgenre attached to the true genre: erotic horror; erotic romance; erotic mystery; erotic fantasy (that last one sounds the dirtiest of all!).

I don’t know how it works with the other genres, but I personally cringe every time I see the word “erotic” attached to the “horror” classification on my books—which is basically all the time. Just the fact that “erotic” leads the classification creates an assumption about a book; before even getting to the “horror” part, the mind has already sent the wrong signal of terror loud and clear. “EEK! This is a sex book!”

I would prefer to call my fiction grindhouse horror or exploitation horror. As in those types of movies, the sex in my books is most often presented as over-the-top, absurd, and funny. Come on. A guy pleasures a big red bear with a dildo using only his mind in my new book No Place for Little Ones,No Place for Little Ones 300 DPI and a man’s expulsions taste just like dairy when he’s “milked” in my novel Combustion.Combustion 300 DPI

Occasionally, there’s a “romantic” sex scene (because my characters do have hearts!), but generally, the sex is there as a prelude to the horror, to place characters at their most vulnerable when the horror shows itself, or even to just go for the good old gross out.

These are all purposes that go hand-in-hand with horror. Sex isn’t meant to arouse; it is intended as foreplay to awaken the senses and emotions and to enhance the intensity of the climactic moment of fear.

And hey. If sex in horror does turn some readers on, that’s a result of their warped ids. Some people are that sick and twisted. I’m fine with them calling my stuff erotic horror. For the rest of you, it’s simply horror. Just have an adult cover your eyes during the dirty parts.

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