Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Nanny State: Read the First Chapter~Right Here, Right Now!

Nanny State is a little much for some readers--a novella about lesbian age play isn't everybody's cup of tea.  But it is mine, and who knows?  It might be yours too!

Read the first chapter now:


“Victoria?”

The lights were off when I got back to the house—very unusual, because my strict landlady Victoria was pretty much always around.  She’d converted the extra bedroom into an office years before I came out here for school, and that’s where she worked as some sort of typist.  I never asked for details about what she did for a living.  I didn’t really care.

I know that sounds mean, but Victoria was hard to sympathize with.  At times, she was unbearably controlling.  She demanded I come home promptly after class, and I always resented the way she’d stand in the living room with one eye on her watch, asking, “What time do you call this, Summer?”

Victoria was an old friend of my mom’s, but the longer I stayed with her the more she acted like she owned me, like I was a little kid in need of protection.  Who did she think she was, bossing me around in that passive-aggressive way of hers?

“Victoria?  Are you up here?”  I climbed the stairs, turning on every light as I went.

As much as I complained about Victoria breathing down my neck every hour of the day, I hated being alone in the house.  It gave me the creeps.  If I could afford it, I’d get a nice little apartment of my own, but that would mean finding a job.  After getting fired from my last two restaurant gigs I couldn’t get a reference to save my life.

Anyway, until I finished university it was better to focus my time on writing papers and studying for exams.  That’s a big part of the reason I transferred schools and came out here to live.  Back home I got way too distracted by hot friends and good times.

In fact, the thing I missed most about my freedom was all the meaningless sex.  Under Victoria’s roof, I couldn’t get away with shit.  School and home, bedroom door open at all times.  She even had the parental block set on the TV so I couldn’t watch anything with “mature themes.”

My poor pussy was craving attention, and the most I could give it was a little stroke in the shower.  Even then, Victoria timed me as if I was wasting water.  After five minutes, she’d be knocking on the door, hollering, “What are you doing in there?”

I stood at the top of the stairs, gazing into open, empty rooms.  “Victoria?”

No response.

That settled it—she wasn’t home!  No way I was going to miss this opportunity to do something naughty.  Racing into my bedroom, I shut the door and pulled my laptop out of my bag.

My heart thundered in my ears while a thick heat pulsed low in my belly, spreading all the way down my thighs.  I couldn’t wait.

“Gimme the good stuff,” I said as I clicked on my favourite porn site.  It had a feature where you could search out what you liked best.

I typed in lesbian orgasms.

There was nothing I loved better than watching real girls come, and I looked through the thumbnails for one where the women weren’t bleach blondes.  Girls with tattoos got me off almost immediately, so when I found a porn clip starring one inky vixen with hot pink streaks in her hair and one innocent looking redhead, I was all over it.

When the video began, the tattooed girl was already sucking the redhead’s tits, thank god.  I hated when lesbian clips started with ten minutes of kissing.  Sure kissing was hot, but when I watched porn I wanted it to be on fire.

This clip definitely fit the bill.  After fifteen seconds of ogling that leather-clad punk as she suckled the pallid redhead, my panties were soaked through.  I reached under the elastic waist of my Uni track pants and cupped my mound over my juicy, soaked underwear.

Victoria had disposed of all my sexy thongs the first time she did laundry, replacing them with white cotton undies.  Totally not sexy, but I never did like going commando so I just grew extra cautious about letting people get an impromptu look at my panties.

“Fuck yeah!”

The chick with the ink planted rough kisses and love bites down the redhead’s paper-white belly.  God, they were hot together.  I hadn’t eaten pussy in months, and I missed it so bad I could almost taste that heavy, musky aroma at the back of my throat.

“Yeah, lick her hard,” I told the girl onscreen.  “Suck her clit, you fucking slut.”

I didn’t mind calling instructions out to my computer.  Didn’t make me feel crazy or anything.  I figured, hell, if I had the house to myself for once I should take full advantage and make a little noise.  When Victoria was home, I always had to be quiet as a church mouse and it was driving me nuts.

When the tattooed girl lunged against the redhead’s bush, a growl rumbled deep inside of me.  I wasn’t sure who I should be more jealous of: the one doing the licking or the one getting licked.  Fuck, I loved the look of that bright red pussy hair.  So many girls in porn were shaved—hell, so was I—but it really turned me on to see a full cloud of pubic hair between a woman’s thighs.

The tattooed girl seemed to like it, too.  She ate that redhead’s pussy wildly and without remorse, like a wolf tearing into a bunny rabbit.  The redhead reacted in a big way, shrieking and whimpering, her voice mellifluous even when she grunted and groaned.

I pushed my bottoms to the floor and spread my legs for the girls onscreen.  Parting my smooth lips, I traced my middle finger round and round my sensitive clit, pretending they could see me.

“You like my pretty pussy, huh?”  I smacked it for them, jumping in my chair as the slap to my clit rang through my body.  “Look how much you turn me on, you little sluts.  I’m all fucking wet for you.”

Stroking my clit with one hand, I pulled up my t-shirt with the other.  It was tight enough to stay there, hiked above my breasts as I tugged my tits out of my bra.  When I pinched my nipples, a surge of electricity zapped down to my clit.  If only I could do what the redhead onscreen was doing, bringing her breasts up to her mouth and sucking them, but my boobs were nowhere near as big as hers.

“God, I love your tits,” I told her, pretending she’d heard me and that smile on her plump pink lips was acknowledgement.

The girl between her legs ate her hard, ravaging her clit.  She hugged her tits and shrieked.  Planting her feet against the mattress, she bucked up against the tattoo girl’s wet face.  Watching her lips contort with blissful agony set my belly ablaze, and I scoured my clit so hard and so fast I came when she did—and I came hard!

But once was never enough when I was getting myself off.  I cupped my mound, squeezing it in my hot hand, feeling my slick inner lips pound and pulse against the outer ones.

When the porn clip finished, I reached for the touch pad on my laptop.  My goal was to get the cursor to a thumbnail of a naked blonde and an Asian woman with giant boobs, but my fingers were wet and my aim was off.  I ended up clicking another video instead.

My belly flip-flopped when the clip started.  It was another lesbian scene, but I’d never come across anything like it before.  There was a woman in her forties, I guess, wearing a prim dress unbuttoned at the front so her big naked breasts were fully exposed.  In her arms, she cradled a girl who was probably about my age.  Like a baby.  So much like at baby that the girl was wearing a diaper!

“What the fuck is this?”

I’d seen some kinky-ass porn in my day, but nothing had ever made my heart clench and my stomach wrench like this did.  It seemed really wrong, and I urged my hand to click another thumbnail, but my fingers would not obey.

When the younger woman took the older one’s nipple in her mouth, my pussy gushed with juice.  There was something mesmerizing about the way she sucked that woman’s tit, like she derived more than just sexual pleasure from it.  And the woman in the dress—wow!  The look on her face was so serene, so loving, that my heart warmed as I watched them together.

“Fuck, I can’t be turned on by this.”  I spoke more to myself than the computer this time.  “This is some crazy shit.”

Even so, my fingers parted my smooth wet pussy lips, tracing up and down my slit and bursting inside while my thumb found my clit.  My whole body surged.  Sure I’d just come, but that wave of orgasm was still close at hand.  Stroking my clit in tight circles, I thrust my fingers languorously in and out of my pussy, savouring the wet squelching sound they made in there.  It wouldn’t be long until I was riding that wave of climax again.

I watched the scene on my computer more intensely than I’d ever watched any other porn clip.  Mainly, I think I wanted to understand why I found it so arousing.  And at the same time, of course, I didn’t want to know at all.  I just kept fucking myself and toying with my clit as the maternal older woman stroked the younger girl’s fine blonde hair, rubbed her back, and caressed her thigh.

It all looked so intimate and serenely sensual that I wanted the same thing, though I didn’t know why.  I loved the way the younger girl’s smallish breasts pressed against the older woman’s bare belly, just above where her dress was still buttoned up.

“Suck my tits, baby.”  I pinched them one by one, imagining those pretty pink lips against my nipple, that velvet-soft tongue licking it, bringing it into her warm, wet mouth.

A surge of energy pulsed through my clit, and my pussy muscles tightened around my fingers.  I was going to come watching this crazy fetish porn.  I was going to come watching that pretty young woman suck those big, beautiful tits.  This was unbelievable.

“Summer!”

Every muscle in my body clenched.  My heart seemed to stop beating, and still I struggled to extract my fingers from my pussy and turn off the porn.

Too late anyway.  I’d been caught red-handed.  I’d gotten so involved that I didn’t even hear the door open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”  Victoria hovered just inside my room, hands on hips.  She hadn’t even taken off her leather boots.

I quickly pulled my t-shirt down to cover my boobs, though my bra was still lodged beneath them.  My face felt burning hot.  It must have been red as a beet!  Still, I couldn’t let her know how embarrassed I felt.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”  I scrambled into my track pants.  “I’m trying to get off—and you’re no help, standing there like the wicked witch of the west.”

Was that the bad one?  I couldn’t remember.

“I have absolutely no intention of helping you in that twisted endeavour.”  Victoria’s gaze kept darting to the computer screen, where the younger woman continued to suckle to older one.

“Besides,” I said.  “My door was closed.  Don’t I deserve a bit of privacy in my own damn bedroom?”

Finally, she let out an exaggerated hmph sound and pushed my wheeled study chair clear across the room.  By the time I’d turned myself around, she’d closed my laptop and was trudging out of my room with it.

Now my blood was really boiling.  That laptop was my private property!  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going with that?”

Victoria gasped, spinning on her heels.  Her face was like marble, hard and white and frightening.  “Mind your language, Summer.  This is still my house, after all.”

“Yeah, no shit!”  I couldn’t control my anger.  The power she wielded like a weapon just made me so damn mad.  “You remind me every day: ‘My roof, my rules.  Your mother sent you here for a reason.’  I’m so sick of you.”  Grabbing hold of my computer, I yanked it from her hands.  “I take all my class notes on this laptop, and I do all my reading on it too.  It’s not a toy, and even if it was, it’s mine, you ugly bitch.”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that.  I held my laptop so close to my chest I could feel its warmth against my pointed nipples.  My breath was coming so fast after all that screaming I worried I might hyperventilate, but I worried even more that Victoria would hit me with something.

It wasn’t right of me to call her an ugly bitch.  I knew that.  And it wasn’t even true.  She was the kind of woman whose skin didn’t know her age, except for the laugh line to one side of her mouth and the crinkles she got around her eyes every time she smiled.  But she sure wasn’t smiling now, or laughing.  I’d never seen her looking so… hurt.

“Wait,” I said as she walked to her bedroom across the hall from mine.

She looked at me, seeming small, gaunt, powerless.  She didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry, Victoria.”

But it was too late.  She’d already closed her door.

***

Want more?

Find Nanny State now at: 

Friday, April 19, 2013

This Might be the Best Idea I've Ever Had...

I needed a place to hang my puff...


And discovered the Red Rider strap-on dildo suctions firmly to my shower tile...

Win-Win!

Monday, April 15, 2013

On the Overwhelming Task of Being Single, "Serving Him" and The Golden Ruler

There's only one thing that gets me down about being single* (*single, in the sense of partnered but unmarried and living alone) and it might seem like a minor point.  It certainly isn't something I ever anticipated, but every time it comes up, it hits me--and it hits me fucking hard.

It's the bills.  Visa bills, phone bills, internet, cable, on and on...  So many goddamn bills.

And, actually, it's not the bills themselves.  It's not the act of paying bills.  I'm good at that.  It's the anomalies that overwhelm me. 

Last night, I lost it when I opened my Visa bill and found charges on there that were waaaaay out of whack.  This happens maybe three times a year--the phone bill jumps for no reason, the cable bill gently slides up out of my budgetary region, and I know I need to make a call.  I need to set things straight.

I need to set things straight.  On my own.  Because there's no one here to help me.  There's no one to do it for me.  Accounts are all mine, all in my name.  When something goes wrong, I have to fix it.  On my own.  Always on my own.

Don't cry for me, Argentina.  The truth is, there are worse things in the world.  But, growing up, it always pissed me off that my aunts (on my father's side, not my mother's) made this bleak assumption that I would marry some dude who would work a job so I could stand naked in a kitchen, or however that goes.  It pissed me off because I knew from a young age that a) I was queer, and b) I was feminist.

I didn't need some man to pay the bills.  I could take care of my own damn self, thank you very much.

And I have.  I've taken care of myself for... crikey, a lot of years.  Put myself through school, got an okay job, quit it to be a full-time writer... worked, cooked, clean, brought home the bacon, paid the bills... I've done it all.  I've proven to myself (and all those aunts who don't associate with me anymore anyway) that I'm perfectly capably of supporting my own little household.  I'm independent.  That's all I ever wanted to be.

Until that bill comes in the mail, and I need to call Bell for the fourth time, and I start feeling like I'm going to hyperventilate because no god not another verbal boxing match with customer service...

That's the state I was in when I wrote my story The Golden Ruler, which appears in Rachel Kramer Bussel's D/s anthology Serving Him.  It's pretty obvious, when you read the story.  In that headspace, I would have gladly given over all my personal power to anyone who would advocate on my behalf.

Maybe that's what's at the heart of this matter: I want someone to advocate for me--someone who will stand beside me always and take over when I'm too exhausted to go on.  Maybe, in my heart's mind, that's what marriage represents.  That's what I'm sad to lack: a personal advocate, an ally in all matters.  Someone who will call the utilities when I've had enough.  A true partner.

*sigh*

The Golden Ruler appears in Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission.  You can read @raquelita's take on it here: http://www.lustylady.blogspot.ca/2013/02/begging-to-be-spanked-in-golden-ruler.html


Saturday, April 13, 2013

Brag About Swag


When I first became a writer, my bio began "Giselle Renarde is an eroticist, environmentalist, and pastry enthusiast."  Since then, I've tweaked the pastries and the environment out of my biography, but definitely NOT out of my life.  I still care deeply about donuts.  And I care even MORE deeply about the planet. 

I spent a few hours today at the Green Living Show in Toronto, and I kinda want to show you all the stuff I got.  Am I a nerd, or what?

When I was in university, I was a bit of a freebie-aholic.  If it was free, I wanted it--no matter what it was.  These day, I'm much less interested in acquiring things I have no use for.  What I'm basically saying is... see all this stuff I got?  Well, there was MORE than this.  If I'd been in an accumulating mood, I could have scooped up all kinds of thingies.  Also, I ate most of the food I got, so it's not pictured.

What did I come home with?  Tote bags, seed paper, seeds, natural fertilizer, tissue, chapstick, glue, hand purifier, environmentally conscious soap, detergent, and more.

I admit it: I love getting something for nothing.  Thanks to all the companies (especially the small businesses!) that provided samples.

And now a question for readers, writers, and anybody else who happens to be reading this post: When you're at a trade show or when you receive a gift bag or prize pack, what kind of gifty things do you like to receive?  I particularly like chapstick.  It's the only makeup I wear. LOL

What kind of swag makes you brag?

Hugs,
Giselle

(Oh, I almost forgot: If you're in or around Toronto, the Green Living Show is still on tomorrow--Sunday April 14th, 2013 from 10am-6pm I do believe.  There are lots of ways to get in free.  Check out the site for more info: http://greenlivingonline.com/torontoshow/ )

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories

The table of contents was released today for Rachel Kramer Bussel's upcoming anthology, The Big Book of Orgasms.  I saw the cover image for the first time today, and I love it!  Very tantric, right?

What happens when you bring together 69 authors sharing their hottest orgasm stories? If you have a top notch erotica editor like Rachel Kramer Bussel, you get The Big Book of Orgasms!This climactic collection captures top erotica writers serving up steamy scenarios all focused on The Big O. Whether getting off from exhibitionism, voyeurism, or a very special pair of blue jeans, the characters in The Big Book of Orgasms explore all sorts of ways they can come, with lovers who range from sweet to sweetly sadistic. Go "Under The Table" with Elizabeth Coldwell and cheer for "The Pink Team" by Kelly Rand. Discover the thrill of hot wax and even hotter sex; the 69 short stories collected here bring the heat on every page! From Orgasmic editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, with a foreword by Ecstasy is Necessary author Barbara Carrellas, these are climaxes you'll want to relive again and again.

Dr. Ruth once said about Rachel Kramer Bussel, "she is only satisfied if you come and come again." Let
The Big Book of Orgasms count the ways, all 69 of them focussed on all the wonderful ways women get off. This arousing read is inspirational as well as aspirational, a celebration of women's sexuality that reaches new heights of excellence. Each of the 69 nine stories about "the big O" is a peak experience in and of itself.

Contains (wow!):

Foreword: Foreplay: Figments of Erotic Imagination by Barbara Carrellas
Introduction: Orgasm Is Just the Beginning

The Beginning B. D. Swain
How You Christen a Bed Thomas S. Roche
All You Do Is Play Annabeth Leong
Hard Knocks Malin James
The Gallery Exhibit Chris Komodo
White Preston Avery
Matinee Suleikha Snyder
All Talk Jenna Bright
Scarecrow Giselle Renarde
In Her Hands Tenille Brown
Remote Control Logan Zachary
Weathering the Storm Salome Wilde
Hellfire Valerie Alexander
Her Lover Is a Flame Cecilia Tan
Me Vengo! Mistress Kay
Count Out the Strokes Virgie Tovar
Steamy Tess Danesi
Payback Emerald
Come On Monocle
The Pink Team Kelly Rand
Headache Sherry Reid
Pushing Boundaries on Public Transport Victoria Blisse
Runner’s High Sam Angioli
His Three Conditions Medea Mor
The Morning After David Salcido
Look at Yourself Maxine Marsh
Do It Again Sinclair Sexsmith
Under the Table Elizabeth Coldwell
Light Sleeper Mina Murray
The Big Cat Cecilia Duvalle
Opening Doors Thea Landen
Baxter’s Boy Xan West
Suds and a Two-Piece Bathing Suit Brantwijn Serrah
The Jeffrey Factor Stella Harris
Chains of Love Lily K. Cho
By the Beat T. Fox Dunham
Icing on the Cake Lula Lisbon
The Massage Lady Cheeky
Feast for the Senses Riley Shane
Squirt Evoë Thorne
Piano Man A. M. Hartnett
Out of Control Crystal Jordan
Tantric Home Dominic Santi
Queer for Mike Shane Allison
Meeting Cute Vanessa Madison
Cheryl Andreas Amsterdam
Beer and Orgasms Jeremy Edwards
Sullied Innocence Neve Black
The Rub Jon Fulton
The Park Elise Hepner
Coming Together: The Elusive Simultaneous Orgasm Jade Melisande
Meeting Myself Anya Levin
I Am Not Cruel J. Sinclaire
Cooling Agents Marina Saint
Seeing Is Believing Heidi Champa
The Velocity of Roaches Michael A. Gonzales
After the Funeral Jeanette Grey
There Sommer Marsden
Forced Orgasms Shoshanna Evers
Blue Jean Baby Eleanor Proctor
Learning Experience Kathleen Tudor
A Teachable Moment Walter Pratt
The Flogger Jade A. Waters
Book Lover Donna George Storey
Tied by Red Kay Jaybee
After Party Drew Griffiths
I’m on Fire Rachel Kramer Bussel
Should You Ever Be Allowed to Feel This Good? Lillian Ann Slugocki
The Final Challenge Heather Day

The publication date is listed as October 2013, but you can pre-order Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories now from Amazon: 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Call for Submissions: Good Vibrations "Quickies" Short Erotic Film Competition

I know most of you are readers and many of you are writers, but do we have any filmmakers in the house?  Or any aspiring filmmakers?  I came across this call for submissions for Good Vibrations' short erotic film competition and figured I'd share it, just in case:


Spring is in the air, so if you’ve got the fever, grab a camera and let’s have a Quickie!

Good Vibrations Quickies Erotic Shorts Competition wants you to show us what you think is “erotic” – sexy, saucy, funny, bizarre or whatever — in any genre or orientation in 7 minutes or less. Finalists will be screened at the Castro Theatre on Friday, October 25th 2013, where the Audience Choice Winner will receive $1,500.

Funny, serious, romantic, cynical, straight, gay, queer, documentary, international, etc. – if it’s 7 minutes or LESS send it our way! (extra points for early entry)

WHO SUBMITS
Independent film makers of all kinds are encouraged to send in their short erotic films.  Whether you’re an established indie filmmaker, an art student, a budding filmmaker, or just having fun with your Flipcam, we want to see your stuff!

WHAT IS EROTIC, ANYWAY?
The term is as broad as the number of people considering it, so whether it’s an arty narrative, stand-up comedy, soft lovemaking, or hard core fucking, if it turns you on, it’s erotic. Funny, serious, romantic, cynical, straight, gay, queer, bring it on.  Animation, documentary, short fiction, music video are all fair game.  See official Submission Rules.  Submissions must be 7 minutes or less.


The deadline for submissions is June 30th and submission is free. Please pass this on to any filmmakers you know who may be interested!

Please check out our submission guidelines and Facebook page and let us know if you have any questions by contacting marketing@goodvibes.com.

http://goodvibesblog.com/good-vibrations-quickie-erotic-shorts-competition-call-for-submissions/

Love in the Time of Instant Messenger

Over the past five years, my Sweet and I have spent a lot of time communicating by instant messenger.  At first, I wasn't so hot on the idea.  Thing is, we've got a long distance situation going on here, and we both spend a lot of time at our computers.  IM meant we could multitask (not my forte) and get some work done while chatting.  It's like being in the same space without being in the same room.

A few years ago, I wrote a short story called "Love in the Time of Instant Messenger."  It appears exclusively in my anthology My Mistress' Thighs, and incorporates a lot of chat-speak  But it leaves out something crucial: all the misunderstandings that come out of (mis)communicating textually. 

On IM, Sweet and I can't "hear" each other properly and it leads to a lot of arguments we would never have in person or by phone.  Tone is missing.  We mishear each other all the time.  We drive ourselves crazy.

Last week, I'd had enough. 

I don't remember what our petty argument was about, and it doesn't even matter.  When we IM-argue, it's water off my back, but the negative emotions impact Sweet really deeply.  She can't sleep until we've resolved our differences.  And the resolution usually involves a phone call where she's like "this is what I meant" and I'm like "yeah, me too" and we realize we agreed all along.  We were arguing for no reason.  If we could hear each other's intonation from the get-go, we'd never have argued.  We both hear the opposite of what the other person's saying. It's nuts.  And it happens all the time.

So on Friday, I said (typed), "No more IM. From now on, we communicate by phone or in person."

Sweet wasn't thrilled.  It's only Monday as I write this, but I feel really itchy and... what's the word?  Oh right--withdrawal.  I'm so used to sharing HOURS of my day with her.  I'm used to feeling like she's right there beside me.  This alone-ness is unsettling and I don't like it.  Sweet and I spent two hours together today, and I still feel like something's missing because I'm writing this blog post without her little messages popping up on my screen.

I don't know, kids.  Was cold turkey the best solution?  Should we find a way to repair the instant messenger rift, or just accept that we don't have the skills to communicate effectively that way?  I'm torn.

But I'll tell you what I did tonight, which I haven't done in ages: I wrote my sweetheart a love letter.  On paper.  With a pen.  Earlier today, when we talked face to face like real human beings, she told me that when she first learned to write in school, she had an ink well in her desk and had to use a scratchy nibbed pen.  (Is my girlfriend old, or what!?)

Anyway, I wrote my love letter with a ballpoint pen, and so enjoyed taking my time, finding the right words, expressing myself effectively.  It felt much less nebulous than IM.  Writing on paper was a really grounding, emotional experience.

Does anyone else find technology impedes their ability to communicate effectively?

Hugs,
Giselle


Sunday, April 7, 2013

Call For Submissions: MOON SHOT Mystery Anthology

I'm sorting through the emails I allowed to pile up while I devoted all my time to my "unplanned book" (a novella, done in two weeks!), and guess what?  I came across this sci-fi/mystery call for submissions from my mainstream publisher.  I'm pleased to pass it along:
Untreed Reads is pleased to announce a call for submissions. 

Moon Shot: Murder and Mayhem on the Edge of Space will be a short story anthology showcasing mystery and crime stories that combine the genres of science fiction and mystery/crime/suspense. We're looking for great stories that take these genres into new territory, whether on our planet or another.

Please note that we have already accepted a story that takes place on the International Space Station, therefore we are not looking for any other stories that do (it was the inspiration for this call).

This is an open call and may be reposted anywhere and everywhere. This anthology is expected to be published in August of 2013.

This anthology will be edited by J. Alan Hartman, Editor-in-Chief of Untreed Reads and the editor of the bestselling anthologies The Killer Wore Cranberry, The Killer Wore Cranberry: A Second Helping and Year's End.

1. All stories must be between 1500-5000 words.
2. Deadline for submission for consideration is May 30, 2012. This is a firm date; no submissions after this date will be considered.
3. All submissions should be sent to Jay Hartman at jhartman@untreedreads.com with the words MOON SHOT in the subject line.
4. Stories may take place in the past, present or future of our galaxy, but may not introduce aliens or undiscovered planets. Stories may take place on Earth, but must be somehow related to the space program if they are.
5. Stories should lean more towards mystery/suspense/thriller than the science fiction side.
6. Submissions must be in DOC, RTF or ODT format.
7. We will not be publishing the stories individually. Only the anthology will be available.
8. Authors will receive royalty, but not upfront payment. Authors will each receive a share of royalties of 50% of net (net = cover price - vendor commission) based on the number of authors in the final anthology.
9. Characters appearing in other Untreed Reads series or other series not published by us are strongly encouraged. Please check your contract with your publisher to make sure you may legally do so.
10. Stories not used for the anthology may be resubmitted for future calls.
11. Previously published works are fine providing that electronic rights have reverted to the author. 
12. Stories currently published through a self-publishing venue (i.e.: Smashwords, Amazon KDP, etc.). will not be accepted.
13. There are no restrictions whatsoever on age, race, sex, sexual orientation, etc in the work.. Just tell us a great story!


Best,
Jay Hartman
Editor-in-Chief
Untreed Reads Publishing

Monday, April 1, 2013

You Don't Need to be Trans to Get Discriminated Against (but it helps)

This post is brought to you by the letters LGBT and the numbers April 1-6, 2013.

What that means is there's an LGBT blog hop going on, and Donuts & Desires is taking part. Right here.  Right now.  Do you get a prize?  Of course you do!  More on that later.

As you know if you know me, I write a lot of romance and erotic fiction featuring transgender characters.  If you know me well, you know I have a very personal connection to my trans fiction.  I've had trans and genderqueer friends since high school.

Five years ago, my heart hooked up with an incredible woman. She's a certified geek who owns not one but two Star Trek collector's plates, she looks great in green, she's called "quirky" as
often as I am, and she gets my random references to Pinky and the Brain.  To me, Sweet is the most gorgeous girl in the world.  She makes my heart flutter, even five years in.  And she's trans.

On waaaaaay too many occasions, I've encountered the common and callous misconception that trans women are all the same--they're ugly, they're jokes, they're sub-human, they're drag queens, they're perverts, they're mentally ill, they're men.  The sad thing is, it's often lesbian, gay, and bisexual people spouting this bullshit.  The LGBT "community" is hardly a cohesive unit.  It's sad.  I mean, it's really sad.

We're lucky, here in Canada.  Just recently, legislation was passed ensuring the rights of trans people under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.  In Ontario, a lot of progress has been made over the past, oh, year or two?  Most notably, it's no longer necessary for trans people to go through "bottom surgery"/Sex Reassignment Surgery/Gender Reassignment Surgery/Gender Affirmation Surgery (there are sooo many names, and everybody has their favourite) before the government will change the gender marker on their ID.

And all that is great.  It is.  But what's even MORE important to me is how my trans friends, my trans partner, and all trans people are treated in real life, not just in legislation.  That's where the whole world lags behind, I'd say.  Trans people (and trans women in particular) are really the last portion of the population that can be openly picked on ANYWHERE with absolutely no reprecussions.  Start a tally of how many times the word "tranny" is used in sitcoms, and you'll understand what I mean.  It's okay to poke fun at those ugly, stupid, misguided perverts.  They're not real people anyway.  Who really cares?

Well... I do.  I care.  I'm sick of seeing trans people denigrated all around me, and when I witness it, I speak out.

That doesn't always go so well.



I've blogged before about losing friends when I started dating a trans woman.  In fact, I lost my BEST friend, the guy I talked to on the phone 4 times a day.  We used to watch TV together, eat meals together, do pretty much everything together.  I couldn't believe what a dickface he turned into when I fell in love with a girl who happened to be trans.  Her trans-ness was ALL he would talk about.  He said the meanest things, constantly.  I couldn't take it.  I told him how much he was hurting me, but he basically said TOO BAD.  He chose transphobia over our friendship.

And that was that.

One thing I haven't mentioned publicly is that I've encountered professional problems, too, for refusing to sit idly by while someone spouted hatred about trans people.  I had a client who sent me a constant stream of work for years.  And then that person made a few comments negatively stereotyping trans women.  I was gentle, I swear!  I didn't go off the deep end.  I tried to educate this client about trans and genderqueer people in the most casual, non-patronizing way possible.

I haven't seen a scrap of work from that client since.  Nothing.

So, I've lost friends and I've lost work for my adament alliance with the trans population, and...


Okay, obviously I'm still a little peeved, but it's not going to keep me from standing tall beside my girlfriend.  The personal and professional reprecussions haven't stopped me yet, and they won't any time soon.  A lot of people are reluctant to admit to their privileges, but being cisgender (meaning not trans) is a huge privilege.  I don't get the same shit thrown at me that my girlfriend does.  Yeah, I get some splatter, standing beside her, but I'm not going anywhere.  I'm here, and I'm holding her hand.

Whoo... that grew into a pretty long blog post, didn't it?  It's an important topic to me, in case you hadn't noticed.

UPDATE: The hop is now closed

Now on to the fun stuff: EVERYBODY WINS! 

That's right, kids.  I'm really glad you've stopped by and I want to give you a free copy of one of my ebooks that happens to star a trans woman.  It's a sweet little reunion story from my Wedding Heat series called "If the Shoes Fit."  To get your free copy, just hop on over to ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-weddingheatiftheshoesfit-862328-172.html

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