TMI with Alternative Fucks!

TMI with Alternative Fucks!

Posted by: on Mar 19, 2017 | No Comments

Okay, so Oleander Plume and Dario Dalla Lasta, both of whom feature in our ACLU-fundraising erotic anthology Alternative Fucks, are organizing a cool blog trot … So I’m going to answer their questions, but not necessarily in the order they asked them — after all, that would mean leaving Little Death until last. (And folks, you can have a little death anytime you like! Just think of all those oxytocins.)

What is right by your side while you are writing?

Whatever else is sitting on my rather messy desk, Little Death is always there. Little Death (aka Le Petit Mort) is not only the French for ‘orgasm’ but is also a small, stuffed toy that Jake bought me at CVS when I was feeling low. Little Death sits by my side with his axe — he is death, after all — and looks cute as all heck. His axe, I like to think, reminds me to “kill my darlings” and basically not take any shit from my hugely critical inner writing voice. Also, seeing as I’m in erotic writing and publishing, it is pretty cool to have an orgasm on my desk. And yes, you can take that any way you like, cutie.

#TwitterNuts: Sweet Little Typos

#TwitterNuts: Sweet Little Typos

Posted by: on Oct 5, 2016 | No Comments

A new column in which I wax lyrical about Twitter and other social media.

As an editor and author, typos drive me nuts. That said, in some contexts they bug me far less. I see (and I fear, make) more typos on Twitter than anywhere else, and that’s usually because of the bigmouthed autocheck! (Word has big issues there too, right? Microsoft, Microsoft, “polyamory” is very much a word.) But the truth is, I sometimes find a typo adorable. Today, for instance, I found myself smiling because a profile said its owner had a sexy partner who they loved to do things too.

“Sweet,” I said to myself.

That’s right. Sweet!

Why did I find it so? Perhaps because of the romance of it all. Yes, I do think there’s a romance in putting yourself out there sexually and saying that you like it when your partner does whatever with you. For my own part, I’m actually quite erotically introverted about personal stuff on Twitter, but I enjoy seeing a more extroverted route and the language that goes with it. Yes, perhaps I think it’s sweet when you exchange “to” for “too” on your Twitter profile … at least, when I’m in the right mood. I mean, if you’re the tweep in question, I doubt I’ll be reading your e-book, but if you’re casually passing my notice on Twitter, perhaps I’ll think your sweet little typo says something about your enthusiasm and humanness. Maybe you’re so enticed by the partner about whom you’re tweeting that you want your “to” to go on too long. You might even write “toooooo” if autocheck would let you.

Why not keep those O’s coming, cutie?

Image: Esther Vargas via Creative Commons, with thanks.

Follow me on Twitter: @foxlana

Birth of a Voice – An Activist’s Story

Birth of a Voice – An Activist’s Story

Posted by: on Jun 15, 2016 | 2 Comments

Picture credit – Oracle of the Shapeshifters (Lucy Cavendish) – click here or on pic to buy.

When I was eleven and living in England, I was sent to boarding school. I didn’t want to go, but at my previous school I’d been bullied ceaselessly for having extremely bad acne. For two years, I had begged my parents to take me away. The school — a private girls’ school — had a great deal of bigotry in it, and every time a student of color arrived in our year, or a student with a disability or a deep sense of shyness, I made friends with them. But they would only be there for a term because their parents took them away from the bullying. And then I’d be left alone.

What’s more, my parents were Christian Scientists who taught me it was sinful to defend myself against bullies, because they believed this “dragged me down to the bullies’ level.” So, being afraid of being “bad” in the face of God, I bore cruel words with tears in my eyes and never told anyone to leave me alone. Naturally, this only made it worse.

Then, one day, my parents gave me a choice. “Either you stay where you are,” they said, “or you go to Christian Science boarding school.”

I chose the latter.