Can I Write Lesbian Fiction?

Tags

anthology, erotic romance, erotica, f/f, guest post, lesbian, lisabet sarai, magic, short story, supernatural, witch

Please welcome the lovely Lisabet Sarai this month of Nostalgia. As a fellow omnisexual writer, it’s a pleasure to host her as she discusses the contentious universe of FF erotica.

I’ve been publishing erotica and erotic romance for a decade and a half, but recently my so-called career has taken a new turn. I’ve begun focusing more on erotic encounters between women.

I’d written some short stories for lesbian anthologies over the years, and always enjoyed the process. However, the outright hostility to any sort of F/F interaction that I encountered in the erotic romance world had me shying away from the sub-genre, even when my imagination pulled me in that direction. Then I received a call for submissions from Cheyenne Blue, an author I’ve always admired, for her collection Forbidden Fruit: tales of unwise lesbian desire. Cheyenne’s theme of forbidden couplings inspired me to write “The First Stone”, about a nun working at a women’s shelter who falls for a ex-junkie whore. I was thrilled with the way the story turned out—indeed, the whole collection is amazing—and then I heard that Laura Antoniou was editing the 2015 edition of Best Lesbian Erotica. I pulled out a story idea I’d been nursing for a long time, determined to submit, though I doubted that a kink-loving editor like Laura would enjoy my rather sentimental tale about second chances in a small town. I was wrong, as it turned out. There’s nothing like an acceptance to give you a feeling of validation, right?

I started toying with the idea of collecting and self-publishing all the F/F stories I’d written over the years. When I mentioned this in a blog post, Caroline from LadyLit (the publisher for Cheyenne’s book) left a comment inviting me to submit that collection to them.

Motivation! Someone wanted to publish my F/F stuff! I assembled a manuscript, including a brand new 12K fantasy ménage I wrote to balance the more serious tales in the volume. LadyLit accepted the book but asked to pull out that new story, The Witches of Gloucester, as a separate publication. Witches, released in March, was my first stand-alone F/F title. Her Own Devices, the short story collection, is due out this week.

Of course this flurry of F/F publishing means that I need to get busy marketing. I have a problem, though. What should I call these books? My first impulse would be to say they’re lesbian erotica or erotic romance. But am I justified in using the term “lesbian”?

Personally, I’m bisexual, or maybe omni-sexual—not lesbian. I’m attracted to men, women and people in-between. I have lesbian friends, but I’ve little or no experience with lesbian culture, with its types and roles. And while I’ve written characters who are interested exclusively in women, I have others who are nominally straight or even (in the case of my nun) celibate. My stories often focus on women just discovering the appeal of other women, women who have boyfriends or husbands, who might very well continue to have heterosexual interactions even after their initiation into Sapphic passion. If I call these stories “lesbian”, will I be offending women who have appropriated the term to describe a more circumscribed phenomenon?

On the other hand, what’s the alternative? The term “F/F” sounds coy, maybe even exploitative. I’m not writing porn-style “girl-on-girl” scenes to titillate the male imagination (though I would hope that both men and women could enjoy my writing). “Sapphic” has a pretentious quality that bothers me. “Women loving women” covers the ground, but then what happens when I decide to write a trans character?

I hate cubbyholes and cliques and political correctness. I’d rather just say I write erotica and let my readers discover the genders of the individuals involved. In my first two novels— written before I knew anything about the tyranny of genre—I have M/F, F/F, M/M, M/M/M/F and M/F/F/M scenes. (Have I forgotten anything?) I was writing what turned me on personally, and as I note above, I’m omni-sexual. I really couldn’t have cared less about the labels.

Now, alas, I know better.

So what do you think? What should I call my recent work that features sex and love between people of the female gender? I’m taking suggestions.

(Response from Aurelia: Because of the problem of labeling something as bisexual, lesbian, gay, etc. in a lot of fiction – since they almost seem to be genres in and of themselves, and then it calls how the author identifies into question as well – I do tend to go the MF, MFM, FF route. That way, it speaks more to the actual sexual encounters than it does to identity. When I started writing erotica, I was a lesbian, but now I’m an I-don’t-know, and I never really got into any culture but the stay-at-home-alone-eating-ice-cream one. I’ve got that culture down.

If identity is important to the characters, I might label it according to orientation—as in, if being gay or bisexual is a point of plot. But so often the sexuality in my erotica is fluid and mostly not as much of an issue as who the characters are falling for, rather than what, or the orientation is too peripheral to the central plot. So I label according to who the main characters are doing rather than who they are, if that makes sense.

But that’s just personal preference.)

The Witches of Gloucester by Lisabet Sarai

Blurb

It’s not about power. It’s about love.

The historic port of Gloucester, Massachusetts has a special charm, due at least in part to its resident witches. For decades, raven-maned Marguerite and red-headed Beryl have lived among its hard-working inhabitants, making magic and mischief. Love and sex fuel their supernatural abilities, but duality limits their power. To reach their full potential, they need a third witch to complete their circle.

Rejected as a nymphomaniac by her puritanical boyfriend, Emmeline escapes to Gloucester to work on her PhD thesis. From the moment she arrives, Marguerite and Beryl sense her erotic vitality and unrecognized paranormal talent. The platinum-haired beauty may well be the enchantress they have been awaiting for so long. Now they need to show Em that her prodigious libido is a gift, not a liability, and to persuade her that her destiny lies in the sea-girt town they guard, and in their arms.

Excerpt

In the sweet darkness, every sensation grew more acute. Marguerite deepened the kiss, sucking Emmy’s tongue into her mouth, while Beryl stroked Emmy’s back, belly and thighs. The wandering hands barely touched Emmeline’s body but everywhere they traveled, delicious heat followed.

Sparks danced along Em’s naked skin in the wake of Beryl’s fingers. Naked? When had she removed her clothing? Her eyes fluttered open. Shadows hung in the opulent room, shaped by candles that flickered on the mantel. It was nearly midsummer. How could the night have come so quickly?

Embarrassment, wonder and need warred within her.  Arousal coursed through her body in shimmering waves, so intense it was almost pain. She found herself splayed nude upon the carpet, arms flung out and erect nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide in lewd invitation. Moisture seeped from her exposed cleft, dampening the silky nap of the rug beneath her.

Beryl knelt in the gap between Em’s legs, equally naked, her porcelain-pale skin gleaming in the dimness. Candlelight struck glints from her coppery crown. Emmeline couldn’t help staring at the matching tangle hiding the woman’s sex. She ached to part that auburn curtain and taste the moist flesh it concealed.

The older woman grinned. Mischief glittered in her emerald eyes. “Time enough for that later, girl. The first climax must be yours. Trust us. We won’t harm you. We just want to teach you who you are.”

We. The plural made Emmeline wonder about Marguerite.

“I’m here, darling.” The lilting, cultured voice came from behind her. Em twisted backward. Marguerite knelt just above her head, thighs parted, buttocks resting on her heels. The tawny beauty’s pubic curls were mere inches from her own silvery locks, releasing clouds of tidal perfume. Flawless butterscotch-brown skin stretched over Marguerite’s lush breasts and swelling hips. Sleek muscles shifted under the smooth surface as she leaned over to brush her lips across Emmeline’s.

Even that brief contact sent lightning sizzling to Em’s cunt. For an instant she teetered on the edge of climax, before the luscious pressure subsided.

“Shall we take you, Emmeline?” Maguerite’s question wound its way into Emmeline’s consciousness, through a haze of lust. “You must ask us. The ritual requires it.”

Buy Links

LadyLit Publishing

AllRomanceEbooks

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Smashwords

Kobo

iTunes

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian Desire, and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

Call for Blood (Sanctuary Book 3) – Day 9

Tags

call for blood, canine, erotica, f/f, femmeslash, m/f, polyamory, renee, sanctuary, series, shapeshifters, trilogy, vampires, werewolf, work in progress, writing

Title: Call for Blood

Series: Sanctuary

Word Count: 26,027/80,000 words

Summary: I’ll come up with something later. Both Arcanium and Meridian already had series synopses written up before I started them, but I changed Call for Blood from what I’d originally set it up to be.

Notes:

There’s something about this one, and not in a good way.

I get the feeling I might have to rewrite it entirely. The characterization feels good, but the plot threads feel loose, and I suspect I’m burnt out and in denial about it. But I feel like I have to get this first draft written, even if I have to overhaul it all over again like I did the first plot. I’ve taken days off. I’ve vegged. I’ve not thought about writing until I reached the point where I needed to write again. But the plot still feels insecure. It’s taken me far longer than it should have to reach my first quarter, and I’m not happy on many levels. I’m just not sure what to change, because Sanctuary needs finishing.

The words are coming. That’s what’s confusing. Is it that I’m just on autopilot now, cranking things out without any soul? Or am I just in a seasonal-affective state that’s getting in the way of my seeing the novel in a more objective light? Or perhaps that plus Christmas and end-of-year stress is finally getting to me. I’m hoping that’s all it is. If so, that’s a lot less work for me later.

Seriously, we haven’t had sunlight around here since Day 1 of writing this novel. It’s been clouds and rain and no Vitamin D except in supplements. It’s done terrible things to my sleep schedule.

One thing I do like is that I can write all the femmeslash that I want in this. It’s not the most popular kind of pairing, but Renee’s relationship with Britt and her propensity for further sexual attraction with women is already an established part of the Sanctuary canon. So I can get some of it out of my system before diving back into Hetsville. Nocturnal Creatures, of course, will be full femmeslash rather than bifemmeslash, but that one won’t be for a while.

There’s also plenty of wonderful polyamory in my little hippie commune sanctuary, but I write a lot of multiple partner romances, so that’s not quite as uncommon for me. I still love it.

Sinking back into Renee was easier than I’d expected it to me, but again, not in a good way. Many of Renee’s qualities are the ones that I try to pretend don’t exist in me, but I have to confront them again when I write her, view them through an unforgiving magnifying glass.

I just hope I can get my hands on the slippery rope of this plot, or else this whole stressful time would have been an exercise in futility mixed with baking powder,  chocolate chips, and too much eggnog.

I’ve made lots of cookies, in case you can’t tell.

I’m not by nature contrarian…

Tags

erotic romance, erotica, f/f, lesbian, market, winter howl

Seriously, quite the opposite.

But so many erotic romance sites are GLBT friendly, which usually means that there’s a ton of gay and bisexual men, but a dearth of bisexual women and almost no lesbians. Transexuals?* Forget it.

I know why. Because the primary readers of erotic romance are gay men and straight women, and bisexual/lesbian women and (maybe) straight men are a much smaller fraction of the readership. (This isn’t to say that all straight women and gay men don’t read F/F fiction, just that my experience within fanfiction has shown me that it’s not very common.)

There isn’t anything overtly antagonistic toward F/F relationships, just a comparative lack of market interest, which I find sad.

Writing F/F relationships has just as much ladypart mention as a straight romance, with a lot of the same stuff going on, just without a cock involved, so it’s not because F/F grosses the average reader out. Does the romantic interest’s bits really matter that much?

When I wrote Winter Howl, I couldn’t care less that the conflict was whether to have a relationship with a woman or with a man. It was never about that. It was about whether Renee wanted to be with Britt or Grant. Love was far more important than such a shallow thing as whom had which parts, and I think the relationship was just as intense (in a different way) between Britt and Renee as between Renee and Grant. And that was what drove the story. Lots of hot sex was a byproduct, not the purpose of the plot, which makes any kind of sex more meaningful to me when I read or write it.

I use Winter Howl as an example because of the dynamics, not because I feel like it has less readership because of the relationships in it. I guess I won’t know that until I write something more on-market. :) I would be very disappointed if people were turned off because of the F/F relationship, though, I guess because I’d feel they were missing the point.

So does this inspire me to write more gay and bisexual men? No, although I do have a true fondness for bisexual men (which will be featured in Cry Wolf) and there’s a M/M novella in my WIP trunk.

Instead, I want to write a supernatural lesbian erotic romance just out of spite.

I totally fail at writing for a market, and I don’t even care. :) I think I’ll schedule that for NaNo2014.

*I have not yet written a story about a trans individual. I’m not yet comfortable writing from that perspective. My first published story ever was about an intersex woman, though. Although those aren’t not so much sexuality issues as a gender ones, and it’s unfortunate we smash them all together like that.  Maybe we do that because an atypical gender identity calls rigid sexuality identities into question?

Winter Howl: Online Release Party

Tags

canine, christmas, ebook, f/f, m/f, novel, order, shapeshifter, total-e-bound, werewolf, winter howl

Always exciting, your first novel being made widely available. I’m be on the Total-e-Bound lazy susan on the home page for a week. My absolutely gorgeous cover is one of the first things people see when they go to the site. (Btw, print books should become available at the end of March.)

In my opinion, there’s nothing more Christmas-y than a story about bloody werewolves and often-naked shapeshifters. Then again, it is called Winter Howl, set about a month before Christmas. Think of it as something to curl up with on a cold winter’s night, something to warm your bed on Christmas Eve. I put the X in X-mas, baby.

I’ll do more official release celebrations after the New Year, since I’ll be able to afford things like bookmarks and magnets and coffee mugs. I’ll have a Trivia post on stuff that didn’t make it into the novel or to hint at things coming up in Cry Wolf. I’ll also be sending out stuff for reviews, so we’ll see how that goes. I may have a giveaway or two. I’m new at this, figuring out what works, so bear with me.

Purchase Winter Howl here. Filled with hot m/f action with a werewolf and steaming f/f action with a malamute shapeshifter. Plenty of rough sex, some D/s dynamic (nothing official), and even a menage a trois in there. Enjoy!

Here, have an f/f excerpt:

“Am I going to start as usual, or are you?” Britt asked.

Since Renee did not even know where to begin or what the question really was, she waited for Britt to start.

Britt inhaled to brace herself, then went into it. “Okay, I know I kind of stepped into it by kissing you in the middle of a crowded room when it was the last thing you expected or maybe even wanted. But I can’t apologise. It was going to happen sometime. I knew that, and I guess you suspected it might. That makes me question my covertness, but that’s not the point. The point is that we have a decision to make. Do you want to pursue this, this new angle of what I think we’ve always had? I don’t know whether you think the same way. You’ve always kept what you think or feel pretty close to the vest, even though I know that you tell me more than you tell everyone else. But I sometimes have to feel my way through the craziness that is your mind. And I don’t usually babble like this, but you know that I’m…”

“Nervous,” Renee finished for her.

“Yes.” Britt relaxed her shoulders a bit.

Renee bit her lip as she considered what to do. Her lip felt dry, and she licked it a little, sensing how dry her whole mouth was now.

The hum of continued conversation from the other side of the curtains reminded her that they were not really alone, but the fact that no one could see them gave her a little bit of courage, and she stood from her perch on the end of her bed and walked over to where Britt sat, then stepped between Britt’s knees. Even sitting, Britt did not have to bend her neck too much to see Renee. And Renee did not have to lean down very far before she was eye-to-eye with Britt. She was surprised at her own daring, her own willingness to push herself through some of the barriers that kept her from really connecting. She threaded her fingers through Britt’s hair, burying her hands in the mass of dark brown curls.

Britt had always been a grounding influence, and this was another time that she did not disappoint.

Renee felt the flutter of Britt’s breath on her lips as she leaned closer, using her grip on Britt’s hair to angle her head just right. Britt slid her fingers over the curve of Renee’s hips, pulling her even closer, and they were kissing again. It was completely different when they were alone, much easier for each to experience the sheer sensation of the other, every touch, every sigh that no one else could hear.

Britt had to be the one to bring the kiss to the next level. Renee did not exactly understand the logistics of a kiss in practice, but Britt took her teaching role in stride. The warmth of the woman’s tongue against Renee’s lower lip was amazing, not at all what she had expected—she had known that tongues were a part of some kisses, but she hadn’t thought she would enjoy that. She was pleasantly surprised as Britt slid her tongue against Renee’s own.

It took a hand on Renee’s to tell her that she was holding too tightly to Britt’s hair, and they broke apart, laughing a little.

“Sorry,” Renee muttered.

“No,” Britt said. “It’s okay. It’s good that you’re excited. I want you excited.” She slipped a hand beneath Renee’s shirt to press the palm of her hand on the flat of Renee’s stomach. “And I want you to do what you want, what feels good for you, Renee. I promise you won’t break me, and feeling your way is half the fun. It’s okay to make mistakes. You know that you can trust me, and I know that I can trust you. It’s the safest place in the world, right here. All right?”

Poem: Woman Riddles

Tags

erotic, erotica, f/f, lesbian, mythology, poem, poetry, sphinx, supernatural

I write poetry so infrequently (and clumsily). I feel kind of pretentious when I do. I’m not saying poetry is pretentious, not at all, just that I feel pretentious when I do it. However, I do have a few rough jewels that I enjoyed writing, so I’m going to share a few now and then.

"Woman Riddles"

She lies beneath the wide palm
With her serene smile paralyzed on her face
In the midst of two times, ethereal, finite.
Girls, girls, girls, always girls…
Pass ignorant by her tree.

For centuries, sitting, staring, so calm,
Shadows moving over her lithe body, living lace,
And in velvet paws claws gleaming in the light
While down her back flow dark curls
Unfettered and still, hardly free.

In this empty, timeless amulus of haze,
The woman looks upon her luscious prey.
Luminous eyes catch those of the wanderer.
The dreamer with dark skin
And sun-speckled eyes distant.

Somehow, the girl felt the lioness gaze
And froze, half-seeing the woman as she lay
Quiet in the shadows on the other side, the Great Ponderer,
The Knowing One, the centaur’s kin,
The one between worlds, sunbeams bent.

She is unseen and seeing,
Her golden eyes withhold secrets untold,
Waiting wet always for the one who might
See her in her steady state
Of half heat, of half being, of half need.

Fur tawny and clean, sweat glistening
On her forehead, full lips so bold
With aggression, belly fluffed with white,
The sort of creature that dark-skinned Cate
Sees not with any knowledge, but creed.

A creed of all dreamers who live
In worlds long forgotten,
Imagined secondhand in daily corners
And half-drawn, mildewed bus stops.
Cate, the one chosen, sees beyond.

Beyond what? The rabid hive
Of fear and indifference begotten
Of difference, phobia, foreigners,
Not in race but of a girl who tops.
Cate was well-accustomed to the unwelcome sound.

Her memory was filled with harsh, pyrite words.
Sulfur surrounds her nights of bare women
Whose desires were as natural as silver ore
And mango fruit, sweet between the legs.
Lovely round thighs and fingers in the hair.

It all came down to disguised interest slurred,
The answer to the famous riddle among men:
Why don’t they want us? or
Why do they want to be us? he begs.
And they answer with simple words and care.

They simply don’t want either, knowledge early or late.
The simple answer the Sphinx knows.
The answer on the tip of Cate’s tongue
As the woman draws her, crackling, through
And against her sun-warmed stomach.

The sphinx leans down and whispers to Cate,
“Pretty young girl, of short skirts and cornrows,
Lipstick and leather, goddess among
Paper dolls, I offer you more than they ever can do.
Just answer me one thing.” Her tail gives a coy flick.

She curls her large, supple body around Cate,
Possessive as always of that entrusted to her.
The girl trembles and feels ribbons of heat
Through her hands and breast
Until she clings to coarse fur.

“Why do you wander so late
From your small, little town, where once you were
Hated by little minds, little meat?”
The Sphinx with tail and tongue caresses
Poor Cate, the enchantment filling her.

“This is my way, my girl, answer me now,”
The Sphinx commands, cello voice strung tight.
“An answer right or I devour,” for she is wild.
Cate shivers silently in this strange place
In spite of the ever-present, concupiscent sun shining.

The Sphinx only smiles, her head in a bow
As she nuzzles Cate’s neck until Cate reaches to the light.
Her mouth makes no sound but kiss, neither harsh nor mild.
The Sphinx can see in her face
That she will stay. Cate answers nothing.