by SB Sarah • Wednesday, May 14, 2008 at 05:43 AM
Thanks to the multiple Bitchery readers who forwarded this over. Erotica author and editor Zane emailed a DC-area email loop the following account of how her latest book is facing an uphill battle in terms of finding places in which to advertise. Why? Because it’s Black erotica? Nope. Because it’s gay. Specifically, according to Zane’s email, lesbian erotica. Read on
Zane’s Apology for the Status of Today’s World
At first, I was going to hold my tongue about this issue; I really was. When one of the biggest National chain bookstores informed my publicist that my latest book was “too racy” for me to do signings there, I discussed it with a few people and let it go. When a book club service that has carried every last one of my other titles decided “to pass” on this one because they did not feel it fit their demographics, I let it go. But, there is always that proverbial last straw and that straw broke the camel’s back last night. I received an “Apology” email from a person who runs an online magazine. It was an apology to her subscribers because someone was offended by her promotion of my latest title. She vowed to not promote any more erotica or books that were not PG-13 rated. I emailed her back to ask if that includes street fiction or roughly 85% of the novels on the market that have some form of violence, profanity, or sexual content.
The book that I am referring to is ”Purple Panties: The Eroticanoir.com Anthology.” Now there have been many Eroticanoir.com Anthologies, including “Succulent: Chocolate Flava 2” that just celebrated six weeks on the New York Times Bestseller List earlier this year. No one had a problem with that anthology or any of the ones before it. They sold them like candy, threw them in the front windows of bookstores and had huge displays, and made them the automatic shipments for book club members. From day one, with “The Sex Chronicles: Shattering the Myth,” I have never toned down my content. It has always been what is has been. All of a sudden, there is “an issue.”
The only difference between “Purple Panties” and the nearly two dozen other titles that I have written or edited is that it is a collection of LESBIAN EROTICA. To that, I say shame on it all. It saddens me that we still live in a world that is so sexually oppressed. Now I am not saying that people need to rush out and read the book, or any of my books. I am saying, point blank, that people have a ton of sexual hang-ups that they need to get over. Everything is not for everybody but to “be offended,” to claim that a book is “too racy” for book signings but “Succulent” was not too racy a couple of months ago, nor “Dear G Spot” before that, or the book before that and so on, makes the real rationale behind it obvious. Will they feel that same way when “Honey Flava” comes out two weeks from now or “Another Time, Another Place” in early June? “Zane’s Sex Chronicles” in August? “Sensualidad: Caramel Flava 2” in August? Will they feel that same way when my next full-length novel “Total Eclipse of the Heart” comes out in November? “Head Bangers 2: An APF Sexcapade” in March? Will those books be “too racy” for book signings or to be featured?
Do not mistake this as some sort of plea to sell books. “Purple Panties” is currently #442 on Amazon.com, just as high, or higher, in rank than any book that I have ever put out. It will sell like crazy because it is a book that was long overdue. There are millions of people in this world in same gender loving (SGL) relationships. Who has the right to judge them, or tell them what they should or should not do with their lives?
This saddens me because I have now gotten a glimpse, just a tiny, miniscule glimpse of the discrimination that homosexual and bisexual people face in this world; especially in American society. Eleven years ago I set out on a quest to liberate and empower women”both sexually and overall. To know that we still have such a very long way to go is disappointing. I am not a lesbian but not because I have anything against it. I am just attracted to men. However, I now consider myself an “honorary lesbian” because I am pissed off at the injustices directed towards them and their gay male counterparts.
I am not going to go on and on about this but I had to speak on it. Life goes on.
Blessings,
Zane
P.S. Do not think that, for one second, this will deter me from my path. “Missionary No More: Purple Panties 2” is complete and will be released on schedule next January. “Flesh to Flesh” edited by Lee A. Hayes, a collection of GAY EROTICA, will be released later this month. I am proud of that book as well. People love as they love; not as directed.
I’m curious - is there a bias against lesbian erotica? Has anyone encountered this bias in their own work in the past? I know that a few erotica publishers have mentioned in passing that f/f erotica is not among their biggest sellers - is there a lack of interest in reading female-centered sexual content, or is there a blockage getting it to the marketplace altogether? I know there are different types of discrimination faced more by lesbians than by gay men, but are booksellers reacting to a perceived lack of demand for f/f erotica and protecting their bottom line, or is there a decided aversion to anything lesbian? Your thoughts?
by SB Sarah • Tuesday, May 13, 2008 at 10:55 AM
Bitchery reader Paul did some mad Photoshop action on the hot stepping leg model, and look at what he came up with:
I did some quick Photoshop work to test your theory about the leg model and the trenchcoat. You’re 100% right, it’s the same model. See attached (I cut off the left leg, changed its angle, adjusted for the same skin tone, and then filled in the gaps).
The “Girl’s Guide” cover designer had a few more changes - impossibly flat toes in those new stilettos, and softer muscle definition on the legs.
Now, aside from the fact that there’s no way the leg model has thighs that wide that aren’t airbrushed into impossible thinness, Paul is totally onto something here. I also think that trenchcoat model’s shin - the one marching up in the air - was thinned out through the magic of editing as well. I’m fascinated by the art of retouching on the whole, and of how much of it goes on. But special note to cover designers: as Bitchery reader the high stepping lady can be used with some degree of effectiveness.
And speaking of seeing double, Bitchery reader Tez is dying to know if this is the same stock image:
In this corner, we have the re-release of Marta Acosta’s Midnight Brunch at Casa Dracula:
And in the other corner? Keri Arthur’s Embraced by Darkness.
Tez says, “Never mind that the right is left, and the left is right...I’m convinced these amorous couple is the same.... Never mind that Riley Jenson is a redheaded Australian and Milagros de los Santos is a black-haired Latina hottie… Or am I losing my marbles in this respect?”
I dunno - Tez’s marbles are on the line. You be the judge - is this the same couple?
by Candy • Tuesday, May 13, 2008 at 03:50 AM
It’s hard to beat a good old-fashioned clinch if you’re looking that delicious taste of WHAT IN THE FUCK in the morning.
So here. Have some delicious WHAT THE FUCK this morning.
Candy: He looks inordinately pleased that he’s broken her hip, doesn’t he? Maybe because it means she can’t run away from his swarthy charms as fast as she used to.
Sarah: A new facet of Native American culture that I didn’t know about: ear wax, it is teh sexxey.
At least, that’s the only explanation I’ve got as to why she’s posed such that he’s gazing down her ear canal.
Candy: Good lord, people! What’s with all the poor freaked-out horsies on romance novel covers? Is every day Throw A Rattlesnake in Front of Your Horse Day in Romancelandia? Jesus, do I even want to know what kind of euphemism “rattlesnake” stands for? (Or is it, in fact, a spitting viper?)
The guy, on the other hand, looks surprisingly sanguine--indifferent, even--at the prospect of having his neck snapped in short order, because given the way his shirt is flailing in the wind, I seriously doubt he’s keeping his seat for much longer.
Sarah: The reins are to the left, his ass is to the right, his jacket’s off his middle - and UNH! Down he goes! I hereby invite that horse to take a bite of this moron, because he’s a disgrace to horseback riders everywhere.
Unless what we’re seeing here is Outraged Horsie’s Revenge, as we witness the opening moments of Mr. Stallion whipping Captain Bonerdeath around by the reins and tossing him into the nearest embankment.
Candy: She looks awfully blissed out for somebody who’s getting her upper back humped by a gym monkey. Maybe because he’s putting a vibrating cock ring to novel uses? Or maybe it’s all part of a new Sexy Chiropractic Adjustment regime--the, uh, staff of manliness is utilized as a lever?
Aww, using your cock therapeutically--if that doesn’t say Twu Wuv, I don’t know what does.
Sarah: Ah, the ice dancing romance novel cover art series. This is book 1. Stay tuned for the covers for book two and three, based on ice dancing’s more advanced and certainly cover-worthy poses.
by Candy • Monday, May 12, 2008 at 11:41 AM
When a certain notorious biology professor from Minnesota notices the massive wall o’ befanged man-titty adorning his local Wal-Mart, and finds it notable enough to blog about. Poor PZ. I can only pity his eyeballs. I don’t know if this is a sign that paranormal romances have finally hit the big time, or whether they’ve jumped the shark.
It’s always interesting to pop outside the romance community and see how people outside of it perceive the genre. Do I have thoughts on that? Boy howdy do I ever.
Some of the people sniping at Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series as being equivalent to Harry Potter for angsty teenyboppers except not particularly well-written made me stop and go: “Wait, Harry Potter was well-written?” (This is clearly because I am such a superior reader with superior tastes in all my literature, and anyone who thinks Harry Potter is awesome is wrong. And stupid. And racist. And a killer of puppies. Just so we’re clear about where I come from when I make statements of aesthetic judgment.) My pointless and incredibly silly snobbery when it comes to children’s and YA fiction aside, what struck me about some of the comments in Pharyngula that dealt with Twilight was the offhand dismissal of the series, not merely because they weren’t especially well-written (I myself couldn’t finish Twilight, and in that regard I’m totally in agreement that it’s the Harry Potter of vampire teenyboppers), but because they were obviously written for a teenage female audience in mind. There’s much casual contempt for literature that deals with the emotional and the female, and I see it as a logical extension from a culture that devalues female experiences in general; that teenage female romantic experiences in particular are singled out as being especially frivolous and assumed to be Not Worthy of Serious Thought isn’t anything new, but it still chafes at me when I see it pop up.
I am also fascinated--FASCINATED--that Harlequin has become shorthand for romance, all romance, the way it has, since books published under the Harlequin/Silhouette imprint cover only a very specific niche of romance. It’d be as if, in attempting to define ice-cream, somebody didn’t address the ingredients, or the characteristics that make ice-cream, well, icy and creamy, but instead chose to refer to it solely by a rather slapdash association of flavor and brand name, sometimes resulting in rather jarring juxtapositions if you know ice-cream well. “My mom’s a huge fan of Breyer’s Phish Food, but I just don’t get it--the thought of eating bits of unbaked chocolate chip cookie dough in ice-cream makes me want to hurl,” sez somebody, and it’s all I can do to not leap up like an obnoxious bastard and say “DUDE, Phish Food is Ben and Jerry’s, and for the love of God, it doesn’t have chocolate chip cookie dough anywhere in it, and really, YOU OBVIOUSLY DON’T EAT ICE-CREAM AND THEREFORE ARE UNQUALIFIED TO COMMENT ON WHAT WE’RE EATING, AND I’M GOING TO JUMP ON YOUR HEAD BECAUSE YOUR NEXT COMMENT IS OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BE HOW EVERYONE WHO EATS ICE-CREAM IS A FAT WHORE. SEE HOW I’M JUMPING ON YOUR HEAD? JUMP. JUMMMMMP.”
Right. Now that I’m thoroughly craving Phish Food (AND have successfully squelched my desire to act like an obnoxious bastard on somebody else’s comment board--at least this time): PZ’s question at the end intrigues me. Where DID this surge come from?Because people attributing the surge to Twilight are wrong. Twilight hit just as vampires and paranormal romance were huge and getting even bigger. JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood had hit the scene like a hundred-khilitohn bhomb the September previous to Twilight‘s publication. I’m not necessarily interested in tracing the whole trajectory to its source, because I think the current paranormal romance scene is not a direct reaction to, say, the disturbing eroticism of Dracula--I think Anne Rice’s novels are a better candidate for that.
Personally, I think the current paranormal romance boom is the direct descendant of Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series, which is more urban fantasy than a creature driven by older, more Victorian mythologies and sensibilities.
Regardless of what the Anita Blake series has become, and regardless what people may think, the popularity of the books and its unholy progeny is due to more than the thrill of reading taboo-busting inter-species nookie; somebody in the comments quoted a Powell’s Books employee defining the genre as “women committing every imaginable act of lust and perversion with vampires, werewolves, demons, Lovecraftian tentacled rape gods, basically anything you can imagine as long as it’s not a normal human man"--which made me go HAAAA, but also made me go “Oh, come ON, judging all of paranormal romance just because you were forced to page through the Merry Gentry series is hardly fair. I mean, taboo-busting inter-species nookie is pretty hot and definitely a factor in the popularity--and really, God bless our prurient motivations, because so much brilliant art would have gone (and continue to go) unexpressed if it weren’t for horny artists sublimating their unspeakable urges in beautiful ways, and I really don’t see any inherent wrongness in reading something to get your rocks off (but oh God that’s another topic for another time). But slapping the “It’s the Sex, Stupid” label on the phenomenon is too simple, and falls into the old “Psh, it’s porn, that’s why they like it” dismissal that covers everything and explains very little.
My theory is: it’s also about women, and putting women in control, and how we’re still not comfortable enough to put it in real-life/realistic fiction terms yet.
The surge of demand for women in a dominant role--as pursuers and protectors and warriors--has been a long time coming, and I think it says something interesting about us and our level of comfort with and/or inability to suspend disbelief about women owning a certain sort of cultural power that most of the asskicking happens in Not Quite Earth, and that many of the heroines are Not Quite Human. The current crop of paranormal romances owe a lot to Anita Blake, but they owe much to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, too.
And now I’ve pretty much reached the extent of my over-thinking about this particular bit of romance, it’s your turn: feel free to overthink paranormal romances in the comments. Or, you know, don’t. Do you read it mostly--even solely--for the hot sex and because you have a hard-on for angsty immortals? Sing it loud, and sing it proud.
by SB Sarah • Monday, May 12, 2008 at 11:20 AM
Fire up the DVR and invite it to record some revolution, if you like. Over the weekend I had a chance to review advance DVD copies of a documentary that’s premiering on VH1 this week, and on the Sundance Channel next week. If you’re at all interested, go after the Sundance one, because while VH1 alleges to “boldly explore a time in history that challenged centuries of traditional morality about sex,” the VH1 version is censored out the wazoo with black bars and blurry bits over every possible naughty part, not to mention naughty language - and oh, that delicious irony implicit in fuzzy-censoring because of the fuck-you-very-much FCC affecting a documentary talking about the sexual revolution in America.
If you’re a documentary buff, this won’t be your cup of naked, simply because VH1-style documentaries are sweeping gloss coverage of huge spans of time - in this case, the 1950’s through the 1990’s. But it doesn’t bother me because I’m used to it from VH1’s other projects, and because I think that is a deliberate choice on the part of the filmmakers, who target these documentary clip shows at the VH1 audience, an audience who probably knows “Something Happened” back then but isn’t sure what it was or how it affects them today. So while “I Love the 80’s” was all about 80’s music and pop culture, and “The Drug Years” was all about the culture and consequence of illicit drug use in America, Sex: The Revolution examines the cultural holyshit that resulted from the sexual revolution. From birth control to bare bottoms, swinging, sex clubs and feminist revolts, the gay movement, the rise of the religious right, and everyone’s favorite pie face, Anita Bryant—every little bit of the sex revolution is in there, in little bits. It’s like Prego, only with sex instead of tomatoes.
Please note: The Sundance Channel version is rated TV:MA, and according to the Sundance website, the four parts air on May 19 and May 20th/21st at midnight and 1am. Check your local cable listings to see if that same schedule applies in your area, and if you have parental controls enabled on your DVR, it might not record things that are designated with a TV:MA rating.
As narrator Martin Torgoff says, the documentary explores why the US is a “sex drenched” culture, and how it got to be that way. If you’re looking for insightful depth of commentary, this isn’t it. The style of this particular type of documentary runs so fast through decades of change that it seems to encourage through name dropping and celebrity interviews the Google-research of its viewers. I happen to watch tv with a computer on my lap, as does Hubby, so as we watched Parts 1 and 2 on Friday night, he was curious about the supreme court cases mentioned, while I was curious about Sandstone, Plato’s Retreat, and Bette Midler’s career in the bathhouses of New York City. As a habit, we Google while we watch - and this documentary is perfect for our obsessive multitasking viewing style. Our search history, it is a kinky place.
The style of narration, which is edited together with musical clips, archived footage, and contemporary interviews, is similar to the other VH1-umentaries, but it works for this subject as well as it did for The Drug Years (which I watched multiple times whenever I encountered it on tv) because the undertaking is so multi-facted. The sexual revolution encompasses several major socio-political uprisings, from feminism to gay rights, and touching on all of them requires a deft flexibility that doesn’t always flourish in documentary work. I don’t know that the series actually explained why we’re a sex-drenched culture, though I agree that we are. I always figured it was part of the Puritan morality that was part and parcel to the founding of the whole damn place, concurrent with that fear that someone, somewhere, was having an orgasm and must be stopped. The documentary seems to attribute the drenching to the excess and then the backlash, with the two sides washing over each other since the early 1990’s but I don’t think a firm conclusion was ever erected.
Also, I wish that the individuals being interviewed were identified with more alacrity, because there were times I was fascinated by someone’s attitude or with their commentary, and wanted to know who the crap they were, and had to wait until the subtitles got around to telling me who they were and what they’d written. The expectation that I know who Erica Jong is? Not a stretch. I do know who she is (and I totally got a kick out the idea that the woman who coined the term “zipless fuck” and wrote candidly about assertive female desire was a classicly elegant woman in a black dress and pearls). But New York Magazine columnist Ariel Levy, who wrote Female Chauvanist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture, was onscreen about three or four times before she was identified, and I was Googling the text of her comments to see if they could tell me who she was. I get that the focus is on what these folks have to say rather than who they were (though why Cybill Shephard, exactly?) but some of the elements of who they are inform the fact that they’re talking to me.
I was fascinated by the uncensored nudity, not because it was nudity (look, boobs!) but because it was nearly naked or naked people who looked normal, and not toned, airbrused and post-production edited within an inch of their actual skeletons. Even the Playboy bunnies serving drinks had jiggly bottoms, which isn’t what I’m used to seeing from Playboy.
Some of the highlights:
1. Watching Hugh Hefner get his ass verbally handed to him on The Dick Cavett show by feminist Susan Brownmiller.
2. Footage of the aftermath of the Harvey Milk and George Mosconi assassinations, and the outrage following Dan White’s manslaughter conviction.
3. Helen Gurley Brown and the rise of Cosmopolitan in constrast and comparison with Playboy
4. Two words: Bathhouse Bette. Love her.
As I watched, I kept trying to figure out where, when, and how romance novels would hook into the sexual revolution. There’s no doubt in my mind that they are related, especially since The Flame and the Flower debuted in 1972, and romance novels were among the first depictions in popular culture of female sexual fulfillment at the hands (and mouth and mighty, mighty wang) of the hero, born partially out of his sexual and emotional compulsion to please her - to say nothing of the rape motif of early romance and the critical presumption of ambivalent sexual attitudes on the part of the early romance reader. There’s a good bit of revolution present in the repeated narrative of a mighty wang, meeting the powerful va-hay-hay, and going on over there to live happily ever after.
As I chew on the role of romance novels in the revolution, it makes me ponder the possibility of a documentary that would weave the two together, examining the socio-political climate as romance novels hit the market, and the changes therein as the genre flourished. Sex: The Revolution examines pornography, and pro-sexuality texts like the Masters & Johnson studies and the Kinsey reports, and of course The Joy of Sex, but there likely wasn’t enough time to take a left turn into narratives that embrace female sexuality like those found in romance novels (and no, I’m not saying they’re porno. Far from it). If you watch the documentary, I’m curious what you think of it. Let me know.
