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At one point, I saw a review of Like Tooth and Claw that was pretty negative overall. I’m not linking to the review because the review itself isn’t the point. People should be encouraged to leave honest reviews without feeling like the author will come and yell at them for writing a negative review. However, the review did make me think. When I saw Hack Gender start appearing on Twitter, I decided to finally put down some of my thoughts.
The part of the review that stood out for me was when the reviewer basically said zie couldn’t identify with the characters of my story, “Hunter, Prey,” because the woman was dominant and topped the man and the man was willing to be dominated.
I’ve run into this before, both as a writer but also as a kinky woman, especially as a kinky queer woman who is considered dominant. (Theoretically, I’m a switch, but there are very few people for whom I bottom [so far, exactly one], and I am far more likely to be the top when participating in the kinky community.) When people discuss kink — whether they themselves are kinky or are simply analyzing it from outside — most of the time they assume dominant man and submissive woman.
That is not my kink.
One reason it’s not my kink is that a lot of the time, there is no man involved in my kink. Most of the people I played with were women and they were either bottoms or switches who bottomed for me. And yes, I think there is something beautiful about the women writhing in pleasure-pain.
There is something beautiful about men in the same situation.
But this isn’t about my kink. It’s not about your kink. It’s about the assumptions of people — here, readers, but I think this applies in other situations as well — when addressing something considered unusual. A dominant woman and a man happy to be dominated.
I intentionally wrote Aisha to address some of the things which bother me about paranormal romance — and romance in general. Aisha isn’t a virginal slender young white woman. Aisha has a lot of sex without being in a relationship, she is in her thirties, she is fat, she is black, and she owns a construction company and fights to hold her own space in a very masculine field. At the beginning of the story, Aisha picks up Finn — a stranger — in a bar for an uncomplicated one night stand. (Finn later complicates it.)
She is hard to identify with because she dominates her romantic partner in the story.
Women are not supposed to be dominant. Women are supposed to be taken, not to do the taking themselves. Women are not supposed to go after what they want, and they are certainly not supposed to get off on holding power in a sexual situation. They are not supposed to enjoy denying their partner’s orgasm, especially when the partner is male. They are not supposed to enjoy tying up their partners and beating them.
Women are not supposed to have power, and if they do have power they are certainly not supposed to enjoy it.
This is bullshit.
Edited to Add: It has come to my attention that at the end of this post, it may not be clear that I am expressing anger via sarcastic commentary on what people have told me about women and sexuality. I am a dominant woman who enjoys power and sex and fully support dominant women who enjoy power and sex. I apologize for not saying this clearly.
Yes, yes, I too think my blog has mostly become Twitter updates. Sorry about that! The day job has kicked into overtime, and I’ve been hard pressed to get any writing done, much less blogging. However, there has been writing and I thought I’d provide a quick update.
I just submitted a short story to a call for submissions and hope to have good news about it in the next month or so.
Eliza Reeve and I are working on an Untitled Only-Slightly-Secret Project which I think you will all enjoy. It will involve regular microstories posted on our websites for your enjoyment and I am rather looking forward to it! It’s a really fun idea.
I have been reading werewolf stories and watching werewolf movies. I will talk about them soon, promise.
What are you working on these days?
I’ve been both busy with various writing projects and ill, neither of which left a lot of time for blogging. However, I submitted a couple of those projects today and finally have a moment to write about some of the thoughts I’ve had lately.
One thought is about the importance of rejection letters. Sure, nobody wants to be rejected, but it’s a part of the process. (Whatever process, really: job hunting, dating, writing, etc.) The rejection letter itself can be really useful, and that’s the part I’ve been thinking about.
There are a couple ways I think rejection letters can be useful. The more obvious way is if the letter says, We don’t want this piece of writing for reason A, reason B, and reason C, and those reasons are things which can either teach you about the problems of the piece or specific things the publisher wants.
The other way is that it can be validation. (These are not mutually exclusive by any means.) This is what I’ve experienced with my last three rejection letters for erotic short stories. (Two for one story and one for another.) In all three cases, the publisher chose to pass on the story (the anthology was already full, it wasn’t quite the right fit for that particular anthology, etc.), but in all three cases the publishers had encouraging things to say about the story they were rejecting and they asked to see more work.
Each time, the rejection letter was really encouraging even though it was a rejection.
Even rejection letters which give you nothing but the non-detailed rejection are useful, I think, because at least they’re a way to show you’re doing something. You’re writing and submitting and that’s really something, whether or not you’re getting published yet. That’s a big deal.
There’s a post about music at Werewolves.com: 167 Werewolf Inspired Songs for Werewolves. I love both werewolves and music, and so I was thrilled with this post.
The post mostly talks about songs that actually mention werewolves (or wolves), and I’m pleased to have it, but I also like songs that simply make me think about werewolves.
Some of my favorite songs make the Werewolves.com list:
Creedence Clearwater Revival “Bad Moon Rising” – This is my favorite werewolf-ish song (not strictly about werewolves, but used in werewolf movies frequently) and one of my favorite songs, ever.
Warren Zevon “Werewolves of London” – This is a gimme song when it comes to werewolves. I’m not sure you can not like it if you’re a werewolf fan. (Okay, I’m sure someone, somewhere doesn’t like it.)
Metallica “Of Wolf and Man” – Not my favorite Metallica song, but I do like it.
Duran Duran “Hungry Like a Wolf” – Another gimme song, really, but it’s quite catchy.
Other favorite songs either about werewolves or which make me want to write werewolves are:
Bowling for Soup “Lil Red Riding Hood” – I’m a fan of Cursed as a werewolf movie and as a great soundtrack to a werewolf movie. This is the most obvious song about werewolves, and still one of my favorites.
Nickelback “Animals” – I love this song and before the last stanza, I thought it was going somewhere far more horror story with the noises outside the car. Plus the animal lust makes me write werewolves while listening to it – werewolves who rebuild cars.
Santana “Into the Night” – This song is all rhythm and moon imagery and lust, all things which scream werewolves to me. It’s addicting and makes me want to dance and makes me want to write werewolves, which is not at all a bad thing.
Three Days Grace “Animal I Have Become” – In this instance, I think the lyrics themselves make the best
explanation for why I love this as a werewolf song. There’s something inherently attractive to me about the werewolf’s struggle to tame the monster inside, and though I prefer when she’s not angsty about it, I do love the struggle itself.
I can’t escape myself
So many times I’ve lied
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
What songs do you like? For werewolves or other monsters or for writing in general.
In addition to the short story writing I’ve been doing, I’ve started a project which is new to me in a couple ways. It’s a novel, it has no supernatural aspect to it, and I’m writing at least parts of it in a first person point of view. I’ve been doing this with the short stories, too, but I’ve never attempted an entire novel. (Though there will be some scenes from the point of view of different characters. I think I’m going to do those in third person limited.)
Any advice? Any suggestions of full-length novels which do first person well?
In “Saving Face? Or Losing My Mind?”, Dahlia Lithwick explains what she’s doing right now, which is trying to write a chick lit novel in real time in less than a month. Basically this means she’s posting annotated chapters of it at Slate as she writes it. Really, it’s the annotation which intrigued me, but I’m not sure what I think about the first two chapters.
Lithwick explains that she’s a) sidestepping the literary debate about whether chick lit should be taken seriously or not by doing a project which is fun for its own sake and b) actually writing mommy lit. She defines mommy lit as “a cross between Bridget Jones and The Bell Jar. At its best, mommy lit is warmhearted escapism with a subtle poke at women who try to ‘have it all’. . . At its worst, mommy lit is just another volley of back-and-forth sniper fire in the mommy wars—a prettily wrapped admonition to quit your job, if you have one, or get back to work, if you don’t.”
Lithwick says that while writing the first draft of this novel, she’s looking to explore why we read chick lit as an escape. (“We” there doesn’t include me. Though I am a fan of some things labeled chick lit, I often find the stories highly problematic, enough so that they aren’t an escape for me, instead they make me mad. I’ll get into this more later.) This intrigues me, though I am put off by the stereotypes in Lithwick’s statement – women (all women, “we” as women) read about “overscheduled, underappreciated, and . . . at some point . . . invariably compromised by an undergarment” women as escape while men read about “protagonists who slit terrorist throats from the deck of a yacht anchored off the Maldives while sipping a Makers Mark out of the navel of a pole dancer?” Maybe she’ll subvert these ideas while exploring the appeal of various stories used as escape, but I have my doubts.
I’m not familiar with mommy lit, beyond the fact it will contain mothers and children, so I’m glad she breaks down some of the conventions of the genre she intends to keep (humor, generous girlfriends, “tilting-at-perfection”) as well as some she may try to subvert (women who want too much and settle for less, profitable small businesses are easy to start and always survive, stereotypes about husbands and fathers).
As someone who has more than once written first drafts in a matter of weeks and knows quite a few authors who have done the same thing, perhaps I am not as awed by her goal as she thinks most of her readers will be, but I don’t find the idea of finishing the first draft of a novel in three weeks “completely insane.” (I also dislike the use of “insane” as a pejorative there. Though it is used frequently, I think it is also ableist.)
I’m torn when it comes to her use of reader feedback. On the one hand, it seems very exploitative. On the other hand, it could be a fantastic example of collaboration and community-produced creativity, things I love. I’m hoping it is more the latter, because that could lead to an amazing creation.
Chapter One and Chapter Two have been published so far.
I am disappointed that the annotations aren’t more interesting. I love footnoted stories (for the most part – though it was recommended to me many times by people I respect, I disliked Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell) and talking with authors about why they made the choices they made, and I hoped the annotations would be a mix of those great things. And sometimes they are. Frequently, however, they simply list whichever reader submitted the character name or plot point or weird child story, which is useful, but not as interesting as I’d expected. Maybe as the story develops, this will change.
I’m not sure I’ll continue reading because in the first chapter “Saving Face” has already hit my buttons. I hate stories which a) include characters, especially the first person point of view character, because we spend so much time in that character’s head, hate being a size 8 or 10 is horrible, b) think that being a size 8 or 10 makes them OH SO FAT, and c) do something like, oh, buying clothes in a size 6 just to put into a clothing swap so GOD FORBID NONE OF THEIR FRIENDS THINK THEY’RE FAT. (And then exchanges the size 6 for size 4 because size 6? Apparently also OH SO FAT.)
I am also worried that, in an attempt to point out the flaws of the idea espoused by some feminists that if a woman chooses to stay at home she is somehow failing the women’s movement, Lithwick will go too far and demonize feminism completely. Feminism? Is awesome and important.
I also wonder where are the stories about families who can’t afford to drop money on clothes for a clothing swap or to hire someone to take care of the kids in the afternoon even though one parent stays home to take care of the kids or to create extravagant meals for fundraisers? Where are the stories about queer parents? Where are the stories about characters of color?
Despite these problems, there is a certain quality to the writing which has me hesitating to completely dismiss it. I’m not sure if there’s something, beneath the problems I see, which makes me think it will be a fun read, or if this is more of a just-can’t-look-away-because-it’s-going-to-be-so-bad situation. We’ll see.
Thoughts? Book recommendations?
Today is The Outer Alliance’s Pride Day. The Outer Alliance is a group of Sci-Fi and Fantasy writers coming together as allies for the advocacy of LGBT issues in literature. Its goal is to educate, support, and celebrate LGBT contributions to SFF.
The mission statement: As a member(1) of the Outer Alliance, I advocate for queer speculative fiction and those who create, publish and support it, whatever their sexual orientation and gender identity. I make sure this is reflected in my actions and my work.
Another part of Pride Day is to post an excerpt from one of your projects. I already posted an excerpt from “Like a Thousand Miles of Fire” (part of Bite Me from Torquere Press, available here), so instead have an excerpt from a work in progress.
I’m not going to get this story polished in time to submit it to the Girl Crush anthology, but I do intend to find a home for it someday. Maybe as a novella instead of a short story. It’s about two women in their thirties who have been best friends their whole lives, and who have experienced a shared loss, and who are now falling for each other. It’s set in Hawaii and has surfing and public sex and light bondage, though this section doesn’t really have any of those things.
Excerpt from “Sand, Surf, Sun”(2):
The air was hot and so wet it was practically a solid mass in my lungs. Sweat trickled between my breasts and pooled inside my sports bra. Ostensibly I was just about to head out the door for a run along the beach, but the heat beat me down and left my sleepy and slumped on the couch.
I shifted my weight. It could be a prelude to actually getting up. My legs were damp and stuck to the couch when I moved. Gross. Instead of standing, I tilted back my head and closed my eyes. My thoughts were syrup, thick and dark and slow, and I drifted in that strange space between sleep and wake.
Something cold and wet pressed against my stomach and I shot up off the couch.
Lani grinned down at me. Deep shadows curved under her eyes and tight lines framed the corners of her mouth, marks of the past year and our loss. When she smiled, she was as beautiful as ever, the vivid, vivacious girl I’d known my whole life turned into a strong, phenomenal woman.
“What was that for?” I tried to sound put out, but there was no heat to my words. It was too warm to fight. Besides, she was a delightful distraction. She stood so close to me I could practically feel the skin of her legs against mine. My stomach tightened and I wanted to squirm.
“You looked thirsty, Jessie.” She handed over the bottle of water and widened her stance a little. Now one of her legs pressed against mine. I twisted the cap off the bottle and gulped half of it down. Rivulets of cold liquid slipped down my chin and dripped onto my chest.
When I stopped to breathe and glanced up at her, I found Lani watching me. My nipples went tight and hard. It was from the shock of the cold water, of course it was, and not from the weight of her watching me.
“It’s so hot.” I couldn’t keep the whine out of my voice. I’d lived on this side of the island my whole life but I never adjusted to the heat of summer. Winter was better for me, when the waves kicked up good surfing and I found the warmth delightful.
“Let’s go for a ride then.” She wore most of her thick, dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, but pieces near her temple had come loose. She pushed them out of the way with her fingers, tucking them behind her ears.
“Is the top off the Jeep?” It was too hot to be stuck in a closed box, but if it was open, it might be fun. Slightly cooler at least.
“It can be.” She shrugged and glanced at the digital clock on the wall, giving me a good look at the line of her back and her smooth brown skin. Date, time, and temperature filled the face in thick black digital numbers. Triple digit temperature for the fifth day in a row. No wonder I felt like I was melting.
“Okay. Let me get changed and we can go.” I tried to sit up, but my bones were heavy. She laughed when I flopped against the back of the couch and held out both hands. I stared at them a second, at the short fingers and jagged nails, and then I placed my hands in hers. Her skin was rough, callused, and her grip firm. She curled her fingers around mine and she peeled me up off the couch.
We were almost the same height, and our faces were angled toward each other. She was so close I wouldn’t have to lean forward at all to kiss her cheek, to press my lips to the corner of her mouth, to taste the salt of her skin.
I sidestepped and put space between us. Lani smiled at me again and in it there was a lazy insolence which made my toes curl. My breath caught in my throat and my chest tightened. She was reading my mind, I thought, and I couldn’t decide if it was the worst thing in the world or the best.
“I’ll get the Jeep ready.” She stared at me a moment longer and then turned and walked away. I caught myself staring at her ass. Her jean shorts were baggy, but I thought she looked good in them.
I gave myself a good mental shake. I wasn’t gay. Even if I was bisexual – and I wasn’t sure, I’d never even touched a girl with sexual intent – Lani certainly wasn’t the girl for me.
She’d been my best friend as long as I could remember. We were born hours apart in the same hospital and photo albums from my childhood had us together in our cribs and our playpens, seated next to each other in our highchairs, taking our first steps and speaking our first words. There was even a terribly embarrassing photo of the two of us on matching toddler toilets while we were potty training.
It had been the two of us together for thirty-six years. We had pictures to prove it. And in the background of many of them, a little blurry, not the focus of most of the shots, lurked my big brother.
He had been the love of Lani’s life and when he died thirteen months, two weeks, and three days ago, he’d taken her heart with him. I missed him constantly, a low, uncomfortable pressure which made me feel sick and empty, but I couldn’t imagine how much worse it had to be for her.
Which was why I absolutely, positively did not want to fuck my best friend.
(1) I am not yet officially a member, because I am behind on life right now. Joining is on my giant To Do List of Doom, though.
(2) Working title.
Two recent calls for submissions wanted stories based on fairy tales. One story I’ve completed and submitted, though I haven’t yet had a response from the editor, and one story I’m currently outlining. One of the things I find interesting when talking with other authors about calls for submissions like this is how they choose the story to, basically, rewrite.
For the first story, the one I already submitted, I didn’t have much of a process. I wanted to write a werewolf story and while I considered doing a Little Red Riding Hood story with a werewolf instead of a regular wolf, I decided against it for a couple reasons. First, I dislike the way Little Red Riding Hood warns girls and women not to go off the main path, the safe path, not to have adventures. Second, I already have two different stories in first draft form that rewrite the Little Red Riding Hood story. One of them mixes it with another fairy tale.
One of my other favorite fairy tales is Beauty and the Beast, though I also dislike stories where the prince stops being a beast and becomes human again. I dislike what this says about appearances (beautiful people are the only ones who get happy ever after?), but I also dislike the way the reader comes to love the Beast right along with Beauty and then the person we love is ripped away and becomes someone new. Being the Beast definitely influences personality and action. What happens when that’s taken away?
I started having thoughts. What if the Beast isn’t being punished? What if the Beast is just that – part human, part beast? Werewolf. What if the Beast is the woman? How do I avoid the all women = evil monsters or sexual women = dangerous monsters trends which show up so often when women are werewolves? What if the Beauty doesn’t want the Beast to break the curse, but wants to be cursed too?
Answers to these questions (or at least thoughts with more questions) brought the story together. I wanted to keep some things I love from both the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale and werewolf mythology. The Beast has a garden and it plays a part in the story. Wolfsbane has its place. The full moon cycle is the calendar of the Beast. Beauty is warned the Beast is a strange and dangerous monster.
I knew I wanted to make it a modern story, too, so the Beast lives in a castle of glass and iron, a building which rises high above the city, and Beauty is a business manager.
That was the easy way to pick a story to retell. It fell into my lap because at the heart of it, these are stories I love to read and love to tell.
Choosing a second fairy tale is harder. I can tell another werewolf story, can even finish and polish one of the Little Red Riding Hood stories. (Depending on how this new story goes, I might do just that.) However, I want to try new things as a writer.
I knew right away I didn’t want to rewrite a European fairy tale in part because many other writers will submit stories based on European fairy tales and in part because there are so many retellings already out there. I want to tell a different story.
This search for a non-European fairy tale is made more difficult because I’m traveling for work this summer and all my collections of fairy tales and myths and legends are back in my library at home. Still, the internet is full of places to at least start looking, and I’ve been reading story after story trying to find one that works.
I’ve rejected most of them. Many are racist and sexist and though there is something to be said for taking a story and retelling it in a nonracist and nonsexist way, so many of them are broken at the very core of the story. Some don’t work as lesbian erotic romances, which is the theme for the call for submissions. Some I just find boring.
I’ve narrowed it down to a handful which might work. Now I have to start plotting and see what I can do with them. I want to write characters of color in this one, too. (“Thousand Miles of Fire” has an African-British woman and a Native American man and both Beauty and the Beast are Native American.) I want to celebrate women and their sexuality and their strength. (I hope “Thousand Miles of Fire” and the Beauty and the Beast story do this, too.) I want to write something slightly haunting. I want to give the lesbians (or, since this is me, the lesbian and the bisexual, because I hate the invisibility of bisexuals) a happy ending, because there are so many stories where the lesbians die.
I want to tell a good story while doing all these things. Finding the right fairy tale to rewrite is just the first step.
How do you choose stories to retell?