Not very long ago I had a discussion with a friend who is currently getting her degree in library science. She enjoys science fiction and fantasy but wouldn't describe herself as a hardcore reader. She asked me if I knew of any lesbian or bi focused science fiction or fantasy because she didn't know what to read or where to look. Of course I gave her a few recommendations. Zoom ahead a few months and I find myself having the same conversation again at a party.
I've decided to share all the links that I can for resources because I love reading lesbian scifi and fantasy and well, people keep asking me for information or recommendations so I assume more than one person would find this helpful. Please feel free to comment with a link to your own work or a book that you want to share with others!
I'm not sure how frequently this site is updated however, it is an amazing resource with an extensive list of lesbian science fiction with reviews:
http://lesbiansciencefiction.com/
A great discussion thread with lots of books in it on Afterellen.com:
http://www.afterellen.com/node/4552
Feminist Science Fiction and Fantasy - huge resource of information:
http://www.feministsf.org/
Not sure how frequently this author list wiki is updated but has a lot of women authors:
http://wiki.feministsf.net/index.php?title=List_of_queer_women_writers_of_SF
LGBT Fantasy books - lists and reviews:
http://www.glbtfantasy.com/
Monday, May 30, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thoughts on writing erotica
First off let me say I am not a professional writer. While I have been published (enabled by bribery), my lunch money only got me a poem in my school newspaper. So, this thought is based purely on my personal experience of being a beginner who is trying to learn the craft of writing.
A few years ago, I decided to try to write some erotica because an ex's ex-girlfriend randomly gave me a book of erotica with one of her stories in it. Inspired and gung-ho, I said loudly, "What the hell! I can write better than that!" As these things usually go, my story sucked -- sucked like that pitiful thing that some people call a movie, "Elektra". Not even the tasty red leather covered body of Jennifer Garner could save that movie. That was how bad this story was, except my story did not have red leather. Perhaps red leather would have helped redeem the story; however, I sincerely doubt it. Anyway, I realized how much it sucked and its successor as well. I apologized to my ex's ex for being an egotistical git and tried to write more because it was kind of fun and I'm stubborn. Now that I'm up to about twenty of the little darlings they have gotten...well, almost readable but they need a lot of love and kindness before I would let friends look at them. The reason I share this with you, kind reader, is because of a conversation I recently had with my wife in which, in a moment of insanity, I had her read one of the stories I had written. Strangely, my wife's first comment wasn't about the writing or the crafting of the story. Her first comment was, "You did a good job of writing how you like to have sex." Unexpected.
One of those canons of writing is 'Write what you know'. I hadn't actually meant to; I'd just written what I thought was sexy. However, I feel like I failed on the 'fantasy' part of writing erotica, specifically that part where we write not what we know but what we could or do want -- the unknown, the uncovered secrets of inner desires.
There is also a part of me that thought, "Yay, I wrote a good enough description that my lover knew exactly what I meant. I conveyed it." So, I'm glad about that at least, but it still feels a bit like I got a 'C'.
Anyone want to share their experiences with erotica? What do you think about writing the fantasy or reading it? Of course you may never know that the story is about how the author has sex, but would it change your reading if you did know that?
A few years ago, I decided to try to write some erotica because an ex's ex-girlfriend randomly gave me a book of erotica with one of her stories in it. Inspired and gung-ho, I said loudly, "What the hell! I can write better than that!" As these things usually go, my story sucked -- sucked like that pitiful thing that some people call a movie, "Elektra". Not even the tasty red leather covered body of Jennifer Garner could save that movie. That was how bad this story was, except my story did not have red leather. Perhaps red leather would have helped redeem the story; however, I sincerely doubt it. Anyway, I realized how much it sucked and its successor as well. I apologized to my ex's ex for being an egotistical git and tried to write more because it was kind of fun and I'm stubborn. Now that I'm up to about twenty of the little darlings they have gotten...well, almost readable but they need a lot of love and kindness before I would let friends look at them. The reason I share this with you, kind reader, is because of a conversation I recently had with my wife in which, in a moment of insanity, I had her read one of the stories I had written. Strangely, my wife's first comment wasn't about the writing or the crafting of the story. Her first comment was, "You did a good job of writing how you like to have sex." Unexpected.
One of those canons of writing is 'Write what you know'. I hadn't actually meant to; I'd just written what I thought was sexy. However, I feel like I failed on the 'fantasy' part of writing erotica, specifically that part where we write not what we know but what we could or do want -- the unknown, the uncovered secrets of inner desires.
There is also a part of me that thought, "Yay, I wrote a good enough description that my lover knew exactly what I meant. I conveyed it." So, I'm glad about that at least, but it still feels a bit like I got a 'C'.
Anyone want to share their experiences with erotica? What do you think about writing the fantasy or reading it? Of course you may never know that the story is about how the author has sex, but would it change your reading if you did know that?
Sunday, April 24, 2011
"When Harry met John"
He led with a vicious crotch, you responded with a blurred one-two - left upper cut, right hook combo that earned his respect.
We watched in fascination while you took each other down like only lovers can.
Our arms were ready to catch, our hearts ready to be give because fuck you two fought like snarling tigers - two inch claws shiny with blood.
Four years later, we see you walking down the street wrapped in each other, wearing your scars with pride, swaggering in the light of jealous glances.
*Note - no actual people were harmed in the making of this poem
We watched in fascination while you took each other down like only lovers can.
Our arms were ready to catch, our hearts ready to be give because fuck you two fought like snarling tigers - two inch claws shiny with blood.
Four years later, we see you walking down the street wrapped in each other, wearing your scars with pride, swaggering in the light of jealous glances.
*Note - no actual people were harmed in the making of this poem
Friday, April 22, 2011
"Sums"
This place is made of pieces so high in number that we cannot enumerate them, we cannot comprehend.
Really, that is the problem. We can't count.
Counting is holding a quantity in our minds; a tangible.
We're far from reality, out on the edge.
We go from one number to the next without understanding til we reach the ends of our ability to hold on anymore.
Today, my number will be equal to the tangent of a microscopic rock hitting another rock in a solar system so far away that its distance is equal to the probability that I will understand your number tomorrow.
Really, that is the problem. We can't count.
Counting is holding a quantity in our minds; a tangible.
We're far from reality, out on the edge.
We go from one number to the next without understanding til we reach the ends of our ability to hold on anymore.
Today, my number will be equal to the tangent of a microscopic rock hitting another rock in a solar system so far away that its distance is equal to the probability that I will understand your number tomorrow.
"Photograph"
I have no idea what I'm trying to say in this picture.
Translate it for me please.
Tell me that it contains pain and love.
Tell me you understand me by looking at this snapshot of my brain projected onto plastic and chemicals because I know you need to.
You hold the judgment in your body ready to unload the burden - you are desperate to prove your worth by having held it.
I see it, defining us.
Translate it for me please.
Tell me that it contains pain and love.
Tell me you understand me by looking at this snapshot of my brain projected onto plastic and chemicals because I know you need to.
You hold the judgment in your body ready to unload the burden - you are desperate to prove your worth by having held it.
I see it, defining us.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
"Definitions, for those who need them"
Here's a nice inappropriate poem to get us started..
I suck at poetry and I have no idea why my mind comes up with these things. It seems to be an itch that must be scratched occasionally.
In a northern nonexistent continent there are no words for objects like lips or breasts.
In a southern nonexistent continent there are no words for actions like imagining or desiring.
In that nonexistent world, my reality exists only at the equator - the intersection of the untranslatable where I am fucking you senseless.
Monday, April 4, 2011
And so we begin..
I've been pushed into this by the necessity of having a place to share things. I can pretty much promise that what I share will be random, fairly nonsensical to many who are outside my wee twisted brain and usually inappropriate. I promise not to tell your mother you are reading it.
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