BDSM pterodactyls

After my first post, back on 1 March 2012, a reader wrote:

“Considering you are one of the few who know what Raquel Welch’s film was called when she was wearing that furry bikini, maybe you would know where one can get one – I need it to complete my wardrobe.

“I shall find me a strong dominant man to save me from being bogged down while swimming and from scene-stealing pterodactyls.”

I replied:

“I think only one fur bikini was made, so your best bet is to get the original.

“It’s probably displayed, minus La Welch, in some Planet Hollywood. So just point somewhere, shout “look out!”, break the glass and help yourself. There may be some slight unpleasantness if they don’t mistake you for a fireman, but running away from guard dogs is a good way to keep fit.

“I met a pterodactyl in a bar once. He said he’d just been in an all-pterodactyl production of Hamlet, except for Raquel Welch as Gertrude. The rest of the cast was totally wired, he said, but they’d thought she was a bit wooden.”

 

The rest of my blog has been pretty much like that, for the last seven years. No joke too stupid. 

But just for you, here’s what you get if you Google-image “bdsm pterodactyl”. 

 

 

 

Happy anniversary to this blog!

This blog began on 1 March 2012. It will soon be coming up to its seventh anniversary. 

Primitive style in 1,000,000 BC. Or so Hammer Films claimed, in 1967.

What have I learned in all that time? I think I’m a better writer. I’m certainly better at fixing up typos. Blogging has helped me, by imposing the discipline of writing every second day, that has to be ready for an audience whether I want to be ready or not.

Though I write all the time anyway. I’m currently finishing a novel, and as soon as that’s done I’ll be working on the next one. But there I have the luxury of polishing and revising, over and over, before anyone else gets to see it. 

Today, however, I’m working hard on making money before I go to Eroticon and India – partly because I need to, to pay for that trip. I’m going to have to keep today’s post pretty short. So I’m going to run the picture – Raquel Welch in a fur bikini – that I used in that very first post on this blog, back in 2012. 

That first post began with these immortal words: 

People always talk about the opening sentence of a novel, but no-one ever reads the first sentence of a blog.

My book about bdsm opens with: “About twenty-one thousand years ago a tribe crunched across white grass in the frozen landscape that is now Russia.”

I do like that first sentence. You may recognise the rhythm of it, which I stole from Jane Austen. 

Anyway, I’m going to spend time over the next few weeks, celebrating this blog, and pointing out some highlights, and taking you behind the scenes in its production. Seven years, eh? Who’d have thought? Well, not me, that’s for sure. Not on 1 March 2012.

I’m a Top Sex Blogger!

I’ve won an award! I’m a Top 100 Sex Blogger!

So you, reading this blog, obviously have good taste! Congratulations! 

Here’s my rosette!

I really want to thank Molly for this. She’s at Molly’s Daily Kiss, and she’s a fucking inspiration for the rest of us! 

And Chaturbate, for putting some money into this “runs on smell of an oily rag” community! They are here!

And this is your author, looking well pleased! No really; that’s me looking happy! 

Some of you will see me next March, at Eroticon! But whether I meet you or not, please enjoy the stuff I write. And look through the work of the other Top 100 Sex Bloggers! They are, every last one of them, pretty damn amazing!

 

The responsibilities of fictional characters in erotica

A lot of people have attacked the fictional character Christian Grey for being a bad dom. Of course, he’d be a terrible dom if he was real. He stalks lip-biting inner-goddess Anastasia, spanks her and takes a strap to her arse, all without her consent. 

I’m sure he behaved badly in the second two books as well, but I haven’t been able to read them. Call me a snob and call me a cab, but after skimming Volume One I was out of there. 

If Christian Grey were a real person bdsm communities would have warnings about him, for his weird, unethical and non-consensual behaviour. He’d finish up getting charged with assault and being in the centre of a massive media scandal: “Billionaire in kinky love-nest rape!” That sort of thing.

However, as a fictional character his behaviour is a lot better. He’s made a lot more women come, with Fifty Shades in one hand and their bits in the other, than any thousand real doms combined. Even if you include me. That’s a significant contribution to human happiness, and you can’t ignore it.

As a fictional character, my main criticism of Christian Grey is that he doesn’t do nearly enough spanking and commanding and binding the Anastasia of Steel. I skimmed Fifty Shades Freed looking for the bdsm scenes so I could critique them, but I never found any. I’m sure I just didn’t look hard enough.  

In the interminable schoolgirl spanking saga I’m writing, there are two headmasters, and they initiate certain of their students into various kinky sexual practises. Obviously, if they were real and lived in our world, they’d both belong in jail.

They’re not breaking age-of-consent laws, and the age gap between them and their charges isn’t all that great: about eight years.

But they’re in a position of authority and there’s no question at all that they’re misusing their authority in ways that, uh, conflict with the criminal code in any civilised society. 

On the other hand, these two imaginary men are written to give pleasure to their readers, and my impression is that my spanking headmasters, like the “naughty schoolgirl” scenario itself, appeal particularly to a female audience. I am that audience’s humble servant. 

There is, eventually, a happy ending to the Jennifer-and-Maddie saga, but at the rate at which time moves in my stories, that ending will probably arrive some time in 2021. In the meantime, my point is, I’m happy to write it and make it as sexy as possible. While being fervently against corporal punishment and sex between teachers and students in the real world. 

 

I’m not saying that fictional characters have no ethical requirements at all. We erotica writers who consider ourselves to be on the side of the angels (especially the sexy, spankable, fuckable angels) don’t write bestiality, or eroticise rape, or write scenarios involving people under eighteen, though the age of consent where I live is sixteen.

But still, there is a difference, a space, between fantasy and real life, and it’s a space that erotica writers spend a lot of time in. It’s fluid and it’s complex, like the best sex, and we need to defend our freedom to have erotic fantasies that are perfectly sexy without necessarily being perfectly ethical.

We know the difference between fiction and fantasy, on the one hand, and the real world, in the other.

We need to take action in the real world to challenge the beliefs and indulgences that make it far too easy for men to rape and get away with it, and to give support to organisations that support women who’ve been subjected to rape and other violence.

At the same time, we need to defend our right to have erotic fantasies, and to share them with others.

Erotica is a powerful tool for improving human happiness, and for helping people to find and explore their own erotic selves without censorship or condemnation. 

Pleasure is, at least, undervalued. It shouldn’t be shamed.

Plans

I’m going to get back to my schoolgirl spanking story, the Jennifer and Maddie saga, soon. 

This is a plan, or map, of the island to the south of the Australian mainland. For some reason you only have to say  “map of Tasmania” to make Australians laugh.

I also intend to publish it in a series of e-books. Probably in slices of about 40 pages at a time, since that seems to be around standard for erotic e-books. 

Which means I have to find a couple of women ready to be cover models. Pleated skirts and side-boob. No twats. Will be paid. Interested? Contact me!

I have to finish my non-bdsm novel, which I’d hoped to have done by the end of August, but I got held up by paid work coming in. That takes precedence. 

I have to tidy up a novel I’ve had provisionally accepted by a publisher. Because of fuck-ups in version control it needs one last go-through to lose the typos, repetition and inconsistencies. I want to save their copy-editor some work.

This is the legendary Louise Brooks, who will never get lost in Tasmania.

I’ve also got to tidy up another non-erotic novel, which has a few problems that can be fairly easily repaired.

It really should be on the market, so I’ll take the time to make it at its best and most saleable self. That should take about five day’s work. 

Then I get back to the novel I was supposed to have finished by the end of August.

And I need to do some paid work soon. The bank account is starting to look a little sad. 

And that will keep me busy enough for a while.

Why I write such good books 2: Trust writer’s block

I’ve had a lot of trouble with the chapter I’m writing at the moment. It’s the one in which the main characters decide how they are going to act and what they need to achieve by the end of the book. 

So it’s very talky, with little action. And a lot of new information gets dumped on the reader, quite late in the book. It has to be done well, so it reads easily and feels like a natural continuation of the story, and not just something that’s necessary for the plot.

Just can’t type another word

I wrote only about a page and a half in two days. That’s unusual. I eventually realised I was blocked. 

I’ve learned to trust writer’s block when it happens.

It generally means that I don’t believe in what I’m writing. It’s a sign that something’s wrong with the foundation I’m trying to build on.

There’s a structural or logical fault somewhere, and I can’t go forward till I’ve gone back and fixed it. 

So I did, and I found that I needed to offer some of the information earlier in the book, and foreshadow that there was more to come. So I put those changes in, felt better, and now I’m back working on that difficult chapter and making progress. I expect to finish it today.

So another writing rule I’d suggest is:

10  Listen to writer’s block. It’s often trying to tell you something.

Socrates disrespecting his daimon

Socrates said he had a daimon, a spirit that accompanied him and sometimes whispered to him. It never gave him ideas or ‘inspired’ him. Its power was only negative: that is, it would warn him when he was going wrong.

He’d need to re-think, go back to an earlier, more secure point in the argument he was making, and go forward from there.

Think of writer’s block as your good and helpful daimon. Your eudaimon (good spirit).

Don’t let it stop you working; it’s telling you to go back and fix the place where, earlier, you took a wrong turn and got lost. Fix it, and fare forward!

 

This post is a sequel to an earlier post on ways to make progress when writing. You can find that post here

Why I write such good books

I’m being amazingly prolific at the moment. I’m writing four posts every week, as well as speeding along with the writing of a non-erotica novel.

That’s a weird kind of genre, “books that aren’t erotica”. It’s obviously an extremely obscure, niche market. But anyway, there I am.

Someone asked me, on Twitter, how I manage to do this, pumping out several thousand words, every week without fail. 

So here are my rules. 

Also, keep your audience in your mind. A writer needs bums on seats. It helps if, as I do, you have a thing for girls with books, and girls on chairs.

1  It’s easy to edit, hard to do the first draft. So when you’re writing the first draft, tell the story. Write the dialogue. It will be thin, almost for sure.

But it’s there, once you’ve written it. You can fix it later. 

2  When I’m about to do a first draft, I generally have earlier pages that I wrote yesterday. So I start by going back and editing, tidying it, thickening it with more character interplay, more detail of observation.

That gives me a sort of “run-up”, so that when I get to the end of the stuff I’ve already written I’m in the story, in the style, and I have a clear sense of where I’m going. So I’m ready to write the new stuff. 

3  With posts, sometimes I just scribble a few words, and save the draft, if I’m too tired, or uninspired to get it finished. It means that the next day, when I come back to it I’m not looking at a blank screen, but at some thoughts I need to clarify and arrange. 

“She’s just gratuitous, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”

4  Similarly, when I finish a chapter, I generally start the next one. Usually I only write the name of the book, the Part of the book, and chapter whatever number it is. Sometimes I suggest a beginning for the chapter. A knock on the door, a meeting on the street, whatever it might be. Again, that means that the next day, I’m staring at a beginning and not the dreaded blank page. 

5  Don’t wait for “inspiration”. You get more done by writing uninspired prose, and fixing it later. Write something every day. Even if you think it’s crap, and you can’t believe how bad a writer you are, etc, later – after a walk, maybe – you’ll see that there’s the germ of an idea there, and you fix it and fare forward. 

6  I plan. Every chapter, I know broadly what’s going to happen. So I can make sure that the characters get off their arses and do the work I need them to do. A plan means you never have a completely blank screen. You start each chapter knowing what’s ahead of you, what your goals are.

Don’t help yourself to too many good things by other people. Still, I stole the title of this post from Nietzsche. But it could have been worse. It looks like someone else stole a quarter of his moustache.

7  Get the games off your computer. You can tell yourself that you’re relaxing by playing Freecell or whatever, but they’re just a time-thief.

They give you an excuse for not working while you’re at the place you should be writing. Worse, they’re designed to be addictive, and I’ve found the best solution is to go cold turkey.

If you want to relax, get out of the chair and do something else. Read a book, do the laundry, tidy the kitchen, cook something, go out for a walk. Talk to someone. Masturbate. Fuck.

8  Music can help. For some reason I write happily to Norwegian death metal. It helps that I can’t understand the words so I don’t get distracted. But music can help you blot out the world, and focus on your imaginary world, the one you’re writing. 

9 Celebrate your victories. The end of a chapter always makes me happy. I party, in a small, happy way.

 

I have to go knock posts into the ground, now. I mean wooden posts, to attach the garden taps. A bit of physical work is good, too.

 

Another important rule is here.

Hyenas that look like Donald Trump

This isn’t a political blog. And this isn’t an argument, just an expression of disgust. The trough-snuffling corruption, the ridiculous lying, the cruelty, the bullying, just piss me off.

I’m busy. I’ve got a book to finish, and the smell of the end in my nostrils. So I’m not going to write politics. But yeah: we have to stop voting hyenas into positions of power. It’s a really dumb thing to do. 

Travelling Riverside Blues

I’m still travelling. I just had breakfast in the halls of one of the colleges of Oxford. The river I’m beside at the moment is the Thames, which is a rather gentler river while it’s up in Oxford.

I’d like to take a girl punting on the river, but she’s not having any of that. It could be the way I emphasise the word and waggle my eyebrows when I say, “I want to punt you.” 

That’s probably it. 

Here’s a pic, by the way, of the lane in Oxford that was in Medieval Times called “Gropecunt Lane”. Sadly it’s been renamed into the more decorous “Magpie Lane.” 

I had a half-arsed theory that maybe “magpie” was a Medieval way of referring to sex workers, so that the new name isn’t quite as decorous as people think. My reasoning, such as it is, was that the “mag” in magpie was a reference to the character Magdalene, also known as “the other Mary”, in the New Testament.

I was right about that, but my theory went on to speculate that since in Medieval times Mary or Magdalene was thought to be a prostitute, then maybe the word “magpie” was slang for a sex worker. So that the name “Magpie Lane” is still, in a sense about groping cunts. 

However, there doesn’t seem to be any example of “magpies” ever having been a slang term for sex workers, so my brilliant theory seems to be utter crap. Oh well. 

Anyway, I want to apologise for the relative lack of posts on this blog lately. I seem to be producing only one or two posts a week, and I’d hoped to keep up my usual rate of four a week while I was travelling. But I’m in England, at the moment, which isn’t my usual home, and I’ve got a girl with me who, even if she doesn’t want to be punted on a cold river with plenty of passers-by, does require a fair bit of maintenance and general looking after. And that’s fun to provide, so I’m busy at the moment. 

I’ll be alone again, on Monday evening, and I’ll be on a night bus or train to Liverpool. I might write something then. Then I’ll be in Ireland for a few days, chasing up some ancestors, but I may even get back to my usual schedule while I’m there.

I’ll be in France after that, then Switzerland, Germany and Italy. Then, in the middle of May, I’ll be back at home in my mountains. I’ll keep you posted!

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I’m a writer. For money I mostly write about things like water distribution rights, health policy, social housing and other things for organisations who pay me for the research and writing work.

This is what happens to starving writers. Thomas Chatterton, dying in his garret. The model, oddly enough, is George Meredith, who was also a starving poet when he posed for this.
You don’t want me to die in a garret, in my snazzy blue pants, do you?

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I’ve written a non-fiction book on bdsm, and two novels. I’ve put off the actual selling part of the writer’s job, because although I’ve sold many other products for paying customers, self-promotion doesn’t come naturally to me.

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