S.A. Smythe's Blog, page 3

Lexington Black
is free on
Smashwords
until 2nd April!
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/517710

Available on Amazon and Smashwords!

It would seem odd if I didn't mention something about the new Fifty Shades of Grey movie, but if you want to see what I thought of it, click this link to ladyjauthor.com for the full review! 

Just to let you know that we've had another author's conversation on S A Collin's gorgeous website, covering topics such as book covers, the way we write, literature and marketing.  Check it out!

Thank you to erotica author Storm Chase for featuring Lexington Black on her blog today! 


Download for FREE on Smashwords 12/13 February only (normal price $2.99)

Synopsis

A one night stand between Rob, a reserved English bookkeeper, and Lex, a slick New York businessman, blossoms into love after Lex invites Rob to Manhattan for a month to work on his novel. But Lex has a secret, a passionate encounter he had years earlier with Rob's father, just a few days before he committed suicide. Will their love survive when Rob inevitably finds out?

Also available on Amazon



Excerpt From Lexington Black

'Would you ever go back to California if you had the choice?'

Lex shrugged.  'I never look back.  What's the point?  Do you have any regrets about your own life?'

Rob thought about it.  'Not really.'

'Not even your marriage break-up?'

'As you say, what's the point?  Like you, I'd rather move forward.  I'm just not sure which direction I should go, that's all.'

As the evening wore on, gradually they were the only diners left.  The pianist and wine had long gone and they had moved on to coffee.  Conversation flowed easily between them.  Eventually, the waiter discreetly asked if they would like to take an aperitif in the lounge.

'Or we could go to my suite,' Lex said, the invitation plain in his eyes.  'If you're unsure which direction to take, maybe I can help you with that.'

Rob jumped as he felt sly fingers stroking his thigh under the tablecloth.  For the first time ever, he understood how some women felt at the end of a first date.  That sense of obligation after the man had spent money on good food and superlative wine, the reluctance to go further, and the guilt that followed a refusal.  Having relaxed him with good wine and playful banter, Lex was moving in for the kill.  Half of him was highly aroused by the thought, but the other half resented the hell out of it.

He excused himself and went to the men's cloakroom.  He splashed cold water on his face and held up a hand so he could see the tremor in his fingers.  

He wasn't ready for it, was he?  Whatever it was.  His dick was saying otherwise, though, trapped uncomfortably in the confines of his underwear.  It was only reacting to the aura of the man though.  He oozed sex and power.  Hell, anyone would be turned on by that. 

Wouldn't they?

Maybe you're still in the closet.  That silky phrase was destined to stalk him all the way home.  And he had to go home before he did something he would regret.  He was in danger of acting in a totally irrational and hazardous manner.

Lex smiled as he approached.  'What do you say to a cognac?'

'Thank you but I really need to go,' Rob said, trying not to sound too abrupt.

Lex was on his feet in an instant.  'That's a shame.  Do you mind if I walk with you to your car?'

Rob mentally thanked his foresight in borrowing the Audi.  'Sure.'

The night was dark and smelled of incoming rain.  The car was parked under a tree, away from the comforting pool of light radiating from the hotel.

'Ah, one last ditch attempt to get me to buy this car?'  Lex laughed when he saw it.

'I usually drive a Volvo,' Rob admitted.  'It isn't quite as sexy.  That's the only reason.' 

'Good, because I was never actually interested in buying the car.'  Without warning, Lex moved in and pressed his lips to Rob's.

Rob barely had time to think.   He was aware of his hitched breath, his body frozen as if in fright.  He began to protest but he was mesmerised by the unexpected softness of the lips on his, the faint abrasion of stubble against his chin, the rearing excitement in his trousers.  He inhaled the aroma of coffee and spiced aftershave, too shocked to do anything but let Lex pin him to the car and tease his tongue into responding to him.  If he hadn't done so, Rob would have collapsed to the ground in a boneless mess.  The kiss was long and languid, their tongues exploring every aspect of their mouths.  As it went on, Rob could his whole being unfurling.  Not just his cock, which was like an iron bar in his trousers but everything.  So many unformed questions about his life had been answered.  The reason why he had never been able to commit to anyone, the reason his marriage disintegrated, the mistrust of the motives of other people, the constant feeling that some part of him was hidden, or buried because he had not wanted to face the truth.

'You've never done that before, have you?'  Lex whispered huskily when he drew away.

Rob shook his head.  His voice had completely deserted him.

'You weren't bad for a novice.'  Lex gently stroked Rob's chin with his thumb.  His smile was tender but his eyes were not.  They were dark with lust.  

What was he supposed to say?  Thanks very much?  All he wanted was for Lex to kiss him again.  And again. 

'I have to go,' he said woodenly.  He had to.  He had to think and not do anything rash and stupid.  

Lex reached out and stroked Rob's face with the back of his hand.  'If you change your mind, I'm in the King's Suite.'

'Thank you.  I'm sorry,' Rob said again, and scrambled to open the car door.

Halfway home, he was kicking himself.  Not easy when one was driving.  He hit the steering wheel in frustration, the words "I'm in the King's suit," on a loop spinning round in his brain, like a lariat preparing to capture him and pull him back.  

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' he muttered.  His cock was harder than ever, reminding him it had been a damned long time since he had last been laid.  It seemed to be holding a one-sided conversation in his head.  "Come on, Rob.  You're single, he's single.  What's the harm?  He's flying back to the States tomorrow.  You never have to see him again.  Chalk this up to a new experience.  If you don't like it, you'll know it isn't for you.  Give me a fucking break, I'm ready to blow here!"

He did a U-turn in the middle of the wide road and headed back towards Deansfield House.

Download for FREE on Smashwords 12/13 February only (normal price $2.99)

Also available on Amazon

Author's Note

I had fun with this one.  Say the word "paw" and undoubtedly I think of some kind of cat.  I think I might have to round out a novella with this idea.  It was hard not to go down the shifter route, so I tried to be ambiguous about it.  



Game On (M/M, Adult)

Sleek black hair, yellow eyes, grey mohair suit.  Spots the pretty boy at the service station and holds his gaze.  His favourite type of prey.  Blond hair and lean physique, driving a silver Porsche.  Lust rises uncontrollably.  Another visual connection follows, a suggestive smile returned.

Game on.

The Jaguar roars, engine muscles bunched under his thighs.  Man and machine move as one.  A chase ensues and the blond loses.  Experience wins every time.

Under cover, the blond submits, his long pale back gleaming.  He feels the weight of his lover's velvet paw and purrs with pleasure.  He wins after all.

Salon.com's post on safe sex in erotic novels This blog post has come about because I noticed a really good article on Facebook about this subject, along with an invitation to other authors to give their opinions.  To read that post, click on the picture.

In the meantime, for what it's worth, here are my views on the subject.



As an erotica author, I deal in fantasy and wish-fulfillment.  I tell stories.  That is my role.  Public service announcements are not.  My books contain scenarios that could feasibly happen in real life, although they are not likely to, and without a lot of the complications that life throws in the way.  When I was just starting out in 2001, I received a booklet from my publishers, saying what they expected in an erotic novel and what was an absolute no-no.  Of course, it listed all the illegal things (bestiality, paedophilia, non-con sex, incest) but it was very clear on other issues too.  No messy divorces, no bereavement, no children being picked up from school, no other tiresome family situations (rushing home to make supper for elderly relatives, kids, etc.)   The emphasis was on fantasy, not absolute reality, because let's face it, in a fantasy, safe sex tends to throw cold water on any situation.

Think about it.  How many of you fantasise about having heated sex which involves the hero (or heroes) saying "hang on a minute," and reaching for his little foil packet?  IT DOESN'T HAPPEN - apart from Fifty Shades of Grey, where he was whipping it out very five minutes.  It's the literary equivalent of a needle sliding off a record in the middle of a sensual song, and brings proceedings to a juddering .... halt.  And it isn't just condoms.  What about the Dutch cap?  Nothing says romance like the heroine with her hand up her twat, covered in spermicide, trying to get the damned thing in place.  Then what if her lover was a big boy?  One thrust and he could be propelled half-way across the room.  It would be like fucking a trampoline.

As I said, not sexy.

But I am aware of the issue, which is why I put at the beginning of each book, this disclaimer:-

This book contains graphic sexual scenes between two consenting male adults.  If you find such content objectionable, please do not read this book.

The book has been written as a romance erotica, therefore practicalities like protection against HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases are dispensed with.  In reality, please always practise safe sex.  Stay safe and enjoy!

I do this because I want to acknowledge there is a real world out there, as well as underlining the fact that I write fantasy.  Also, I don't want to junk up my sex scenes with practicalities, just to conform to politically correct ideals.  If you are reading this book, you will hopefully be over the age of 18, intelligent, and well aware of the dangers of putting out without protection.  It is not my job to protect you from that. 

That's your job, dear reader.  I'm an erotica author, not your mother.

Also, where would it end?  It isn't just the safe sex issue.  I'm also aware that with M/M sex, there are other cleanliness problems that crop up.  (I won't spell it out - we're all adults here,) but unless dealing with it is part of the character's development, or is part of the sexual play, why deal with it at all?  It's like any other form of "padding" in a novel.  If it isn't relevant to the story, don't put it in. 

In stories not labelled "erotica" it is a totally different situation.  I'm not saying you should put warts and all in just for a splash of realism, but if realism is part of the novel, safe sex (or anything else) has to be addressed.  Why?  Because in real life, people ask questions.  How doesn't she get pregnant if they fuck like rabbits all night without protection?  Isn't it risky?  What about HIV?  And that's fair enough, but in erotica, these questions shouldn't, in my opinion, arise.  Let us have some fun for God's sake, and leave the practicalities to the medical profession.  A little realism adds spice, a hint of "if only" in the way that shifter or faerie fiction does not, but too much realism kills fantasy, after all.

Savi x

I'm a very happy bunny.  Lexington Black has made the grade on the Sinfully Sexy Books website, two days after publication.  And I'm in illustrious company, as you can see.

Check out this website for more great M/M novels and short stories.

Thanks, Sinfully!

The Blurb

Rob Martyn is divorced, estranged from his family and his love-life is going nowhere.  He can do his book-keeping job blind-folded and all his aspirations are in the gutter.  He admits he needs to be shocked back into reality and start living again, but hasn't a clue where to start.

Then a handsome, enigmatic stranger walks in to his office for a test drive, and Rob's life is turned upside-down.

Lexington Black is a wealthy New Yorker, accustomed to getting what he wants, and what he wants is Rob Martyn.  Their chance meeting brings back a whole host of memories for Lex because 20 years earlier, he had a one night stand with Rob's father.  It was an assignation destined to bring tragedy to Rob's family, and lasting heartache for Lex.

But Rob is unaware of of Lex's past.  All he knows is an immediate and and unexpected attraction to another man which, despite his cautious nature, he decides to embrace wholeheartedly.  When Lex invites him to New York to work on his novel, Rob takes another gamble and accepts, even though he knows he risks heartbreak in doing so.  Their hot attraction to each other blossoms into something much deeper, but sooner or later Rob's luck will run out.

How many gambles is he willing to take in the search for true happiness?

http://sinfullysexybooks.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/wednesday-4th-february-our-look-at.html

I am soooo good to you all.  This is another real treat, in the hot sexin' form of Brad Vance, author of A Little Too Broken, Apollo's Curse, Colum's Viking Captivity and many others.  His new book, Have A Little Faith In Me, is now available and featured here.  There is an excerpt from the book PLUS an insightful interview with Brad, which is a must-read for fans and fellow authors alike.  Phew!  Sit back and enjoy. BIOGRAPHY:

Brad Vance writes gay romance, erotica and paranormal stories and novels, including the breakout hits A Little Too Broken and Apollo’s Curse.  

Keep up with Brad at BradVanceErotica.wordpress.com 
Email him at [email protected]
Friend him on Facebook at facebook.com/brad.vance.10.

SYNOPSIS:

When Rocky met Dex, it was hate at first sight. Country superstar Dex Dexter represented everything that budding rock star Rocky McCoy had left behind him in the Deep South – the religion, the homophobia, the hypocrisy, the lies. And Rocky represented everything that Dex had denied, had turned away from, had refused… 

When Rocky met Dex, it was love at first touch. Double booked in the same slot on the main stage at CrossFest, they fought for the microphone like two dogs fighting over a bone. And when their hands met… 

Rocky has had enough. “No more falling for straight guys. No way. No matter how hot. Especially if the ‘straight guy’ looks to me like a major closet case.” 

Dex has had enough. “No way. I can’t be gay. I can’t lose my family, my friends, my career. I can’t.” 

What they’ve had enough of doesn’t matter. It’s what they’ve never had enough of that will bring them together…
The Interview

A Little Too Broken - the royalties go to a great cause.  Is this something close to your heart?

Yeah, it really is.  It makes me sick to see veterans come back from trillion-dollar wars and not be able to get ten-dollar healthcare.  I had the idea for A Little Too Broken when the whole “new adult” genre took off.  It made me roll my eyes, to be honest – you know, they’re young, beautiful and broken, can they love again… Of course they can, they’re young and beautiful and they’ll “fix” each other!  It was like the fantasy was, I can have my ideal lover if there’s a tragic flaw that makes him less available/desirable to others, but if I stick it out, I can “fix” him and then I can have it all… I mean, it’s not new, it goes all the way back to Mr. Rochester!  But still, I had this thought – what if I really fucked with this?  What if I created two characters who were permanently “broken,” who had shit wrong with them that couldn’t be fixed, but that had to be lived with, dealt with, forever?  And I had this vision of a guy with HIV and a vet who lost his legs.  And I really ran away hard and fast from that idea for a long time. :)  Because there was so much potential to fuck it up, to make it distasteful or absurd or something.  But finally I had no choice but to write them, they just kept knocking at the door.  And when I was done, I felt good about it. 
But I felt like I couldn’t take Tom’s experience, his pain, his struggle, and just milk that drama to line my own pockets.  And I was kind of guilting on that, and then at some point it just hit me – half this story does not belong to me, it belongs to the men and women who are going through this every day.  And so I made the lifetime commitment to donate 50% every month to veterans’ charities – sometimes I get a wild hair and donate 100%, depending on how good a month I’m having with other stuff, and how pissed off I am at whatever is going on in Washington around veterans’ issues.  As of the end of January 2015, I’ve donated about $2,850, which I feel really good about.

Why did you first start writing erotica?

Umm, full disclosure?  MONEY!  I’ve always been a writer, but I was also one of those old fashioned ones – the ones who became writers because we were the antisocial mushrooms in the corner with a notebook, and it was our only chance to make a living.  Then getting published got harder and harder, publishers expected you to do more and more of your own promotion and hustle and cred-building.  And you know, if I wanted to be a salesman when I grew up, that’s what I would have been.  Erotica was something I discovered that, at the time, 2.5 years ago, sold itself.  People went looking for it.  I have an active sexual imagination, so it came really easily to me.  Then the bottom fell out when Amazon started smutblocking, but by that time I had a fan base, I had a community of other erotica writers, and I stuck with it, moved into long form romance in addition to smut.  I do love what I’m doing, and I love that I make money at it.  I can’t write “just” for money – if I could I’d have a boatload of billionaire shifter stories.  I have to feel the kink to write it.

If you could give one tip on writing erotica to aspiring authors, what would it be?

Well…depends on what you want out of it.  I always say there’s the million dollar idea, and the billion dollar idea.  You can make a million dollars following trends, writing more shifters and kinky rich dudes and whatever’s hot right now in a trend that someone else started.  Or you can be the crackpot who says, “I’m going to write seven doorstoppers about a boy wizard,” and end up a billionaire.  Going for the billion, of course, you may end up with nothing, but it’s more fun :)

The other piece of advice would be, when it comes to marketing yourself, just…be you.  I hated marketing when I thought I had to be “the brochure,” you know, to talk like a press release, “So excited to tell you about this cover/release/blah blah!”  Now I’m ME on Facebook, I like what I like and say what I say and it’s…fun.  It’s not “work” at all, whereas it was totally “work” when I was all stiff and phony.  If people don’t like the real you, they’re not gonna like your books either, so fuck it, have a good time.

You have a massive output (!)  What else do you do to pay the mortgage or is writing your main occupation?

Well… I have a day job, but writing is about 50% of my income right now and (crosses fingers) if things keep going the way they’re going, I’ll be doing it full time soon.  I get up at 4 am (or 3 or 2) and work till it’s time for the day job, then come home and get on Facebook and catch up with my fans.  It makes for loooong days, but it’s finally paying off!  I write fast, so yeah, I have a lot of back catalog.  Which is really the ticket to success – once you finally get something that hits, for readers, it’s like potato chips:  if they eat that first chip and it’s good, they’re gonna eat every chip in the bag.   So each success that brings in new readers is an exponential success, sales-wise.

What's your opinion on women writing M/M erotica?  (be honest.  I can take it...)

Wow, that’s a minefield!  I’ve written stories from a woman’s POV myself, so I don’t have any existential problem with it.  One thing I’ve noticed, though, and let me be clear this is a comment and not a criticism or a judgment, is that a lot of women writers create men who are either the kind of men that women want men to be (which is natural, of course, we’re all writing fantasies here), or who are more like women than men, emotionally.  I’m talking about the “vacillating” characters who are in love, out of love, in again and out and angst for a long time before finally deciding on yes.   In real life, most men are not vacillators, we’re all, “make up your fucking mind, already!”  When we create characters unlike ourselves, we have to work harder to take ourselves out of them, to remember who they are, not who we would be if we were them.  Does that make any sense?

Absolutely.  So what makes a great M/M novel - and what makes a bad one (in your opinion.)

What makes a great one is what makes any novel great –characters who are real and complex people, in believable situations, with realistic dialogue, and excellent research into the world you’re working in.  I’m always ranting against “paper dolls” in romance novels.  Books where they say, “he’s a rock star/football player/cop/soldier and that’s all I’m ever gonna say again about what he does for a living, so you can put your own clothes on this dollie if you like, here’s some sex.”  If you don’t give a damn about football?  If you aren’t going to show him playing football, or at training camp, or anything at all about football ever again after you say “he’s a football player?"  Don’t.  Just don’t.

Name one essential ingredient in a Brad Vance novel - apart from the sex - and why.

Research.  Realism.  I read a ton of books for the Colum’s Viking Captivity series.  I wanted to get the places, the society, the dynamics of slave/master relationships, the warfare, the theological crackpottery that an Irish monk would be subjected to, the classical manuscripts he’d be exposed to, the political forces that drove the clash of cultures between pagan Norsemen and fanatically Christian Europeans…. I know!  All for a book about a Viking’s sex slave!  But again, there are so many “paper dollie” Vikings out there, I knew that I could fill a niche – people who are seriously into both history and erotica, like your hardcore Ren Faire types, you know?  I would be bored to death writing something less than that.  Porn is sex with cheap movie sets.  Erotica is sex with production values.  So yeah, overall, I’d say production values are what make for a Brad Vance story.

Do you do your own editing and proofreading?  (If so, way to go!  I've never found an error yet...)

I do.  I have a few ladies who help me out, usually after I’ve published and they catch all the typos you just can’t catch yourself (Hi, LuLu!).  You do go snow blind looking at your own stuff.  I’m super controlling and impatient so even if I could afford an editor at this point, I don’t know that I would hire one unless she/he works as fast as I do and doesn’t try to change my style.  

Some of your novels have been banned on Amazon.  Do you deliberately try to make that happen, as it seems to be a great marketing ploy?  (A bit cheeky, this one, but I'm genuinely interested, as M/M erotica seems to be the go-to guy for censorship laws at Amazon at the moment.)

OH NO!  The last thing I want is to disturb the Force around Lord Bezos!  And it’s not just the gays, it’s anything spicy, really.  Huge corporations will wage war against each other for years with no surrender, no compromise…but stick one mousy little prude with her nose out of joint in front of them, and watch the elephants scream.
Honestly, all the stuff I’ve ever had banned has been something I’ve seen PASS at Amazon in the hands of others.  My Luke and Slader stories made bank until Amazon decided to crack down on smut that was (or appeared to be) over the line.  I guess titling a story Luke’s Brutal Abduction was asking for trouble!  It’s just a sensational title I chose for the keyword sales value of the abduction fantasy at the time – Luke actually PAYS Slader to be “brutally” abducted, so he can live out his porn star fantasy.  

My first stepbrother story went through just fine…just like all the hetero stepfucking stuff I was seeing.  Then the next one got blocked.  I was pissed because it wasn’t any worse than the hetero stuff, and I just grumbled on Facebook and said, “well shit, they won’t tell me why, if you wanna figure out for yourself why it got banned, write me and I’ll send you a copy.”  Next thing I knew I had over 200 emails from people who were MORE pissed than I was!  It was really a timing thing.  People are already so pissed on Facebook right now about what’s going on there - how a single redneck bluenose holy roller can shut down someone’s account because they don’t like a photo.  It happened to Michael Stokes, and his photos are art, not porn, no cocks showing, and they’re photos of wounded veterans and amputees… 

Corporate censorship has become about banning anything a million people love if one person is “offended.”  Well then, don’t fucking look!  Nobody’s making you sit there and be friends with people who like it – unfriend them or mute the post!  Nobody’s making you read a dirty book – don’t search for dirty books!  I swear it’s all people who whack off to this shit and then feel guilty and denounce it after they’ve gotten their jollies.  We’re all offended by something.  I hate these reality shows about people with six million kids!  I think it’s wrong and gross to be celebratin’ overpopulatin’!  So…I don’t watch!  

That said, yeah, being blocked/banned was great publicity, but I wasn’t looking for it – it’s too scary and dangerous to piss Amazon off too much, since they’re the monopoly.  Get your account blocked there and your career is over.

People often ask me if I've had the experiences I've written about (sadly, no.)  How much of what you write is based on personal experience/fantasy?  (Yeah, I know, it's another cheeky one, but I thought I'd sneak it in.)

Hmmm :) Well, let’s say that it’s what I know mansex is like, combined with what I know it should be like…

LOL!  Who is the real Brad Vance?

Oooh, cosmic!  He’s a funny guy who loves his job.  Who doesn’t take himself too seriously, most of the time.  Who loves his fans, who have in many ways been better friends to him than innumerable “meatspace” alternatives.  Who is just crazy enough to believe that we’re getting to a critical mass point with M/M, where someone who writes it is going to be, if not the next E.L. James, then is certainly going to be in that BIG TIME category.  A guy who writes everything he writes with an eye to being that guy, to having the quality and the variety and versatility and humor and, of course, insanely hot pervy kinky sex that will put me first in line for the position!

Thanks for these questions, I had fun! J xoxoxoxo Brad

And thanks so much to you, Brad for agreeing to be on my Broadsword Blog.  And well done for the success so far of Have A Little Faith In Me!


And now for an excerpt from Have a Little Faith In Me
“Rocky, man, how’s it going.  This is Sam Griggs, Dex’s manager.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rocky said, shaking the man’s hand.  He was startled when Sam not-so-discreetly rubbed his own hand on the fabric of the bucket seat after the handshake.  Typical fucking cracker, he thought, thinks he’s gonna get AIDS from touching the queer.  Then again, he thought sourly, it could be because he’d also shaken Korey’s hand, and he wanted to make sure the Blackness wasn’t catching either.  Or both, probably.  Racism and homophobia held hands and sung together all the time.

“Okay,” Jason said.  “So you’ve all see the media shitstorm around this.  And we’d really like to put a lid on it.  As a personal favor to me, I’m asking you both to do this duet.  I want this festival to go well, to end well.  If it doesn’t…” He threw up his hands.  “Kind of a stake in the heart of my new career, you know?”

Rocky nodded.  “I owe you a solid, Jason, I’ll do it.”  He looked Dex in the eye.  “I have nothing to lose.”

Dex didn’t blink.  He nodded curtly.  “Me neither.  Nothing to be scared of here,” he said contemptuously. 

Man, fuck this guy, Rocky thought.  Dex and his manager were everything he hated about the South, were everything he’d worked so hard to escape.  And now here he was again, having to sit here and take their shit. 

Dex was checking him out, clearly, his eyes traveling over Rocky’s tats, most of them replicas of his favorite artworks.  Like you’d have any idea what they are, Rocky thought.  You stupid fucking hick, you’ve probably got a house full of Thomas Kinkaid or some shit like that.

“Okay,” Jason said hastily.  “So if you guys want to take some time to think about the song you wanna do…”

“I don’t think it should be a duet,” Rocky said, inspiration striking him.  “I think it should be a face-off.  A battle of the bands.  A friendly competition to see who’s the better musician.”

Dex’s nostrils flared, and he grinned.  Rocky’s heart skipped a beat at the way Dex’s face lit up, the way it glowed with rude good health.  The way one corner of his mouth turned out, a dirty knowing smile that promised what Korey had seen in their photo – either a good fight or a good fuck, the two weekend specials of Southern male life. 

“Hell, yeah.  That’s more like it.”  Dex tipped his black cowboy hat back and scratched his forehead with mock confusion.  “The only problem is, what songs are we gonna play?  I guess we’ll do a great old country standard, and you’ll do, I don’t know, one of those Emo songs, screamin’ about how your mom made you clean your room.”

Rocky almost laughed, the description of the typical Emo song was so accurate.  But he repressed it, hard.  “No, I think we can do your country standard, too.  Some Patsy Cline or Hank Williams, something much better than the overproduced, plastic stuff that comes out of Nashville these days.  That’s really the only way to face off, isn’t it, to do the same song?”

Dex didn’t take the bait Rocky had thrown out there about contemporary country music, including Dex’s own.  “Right.  And then, we’ll play an old rock classic, one you might know, Jerry Lee Lewis or Elvis Presley.  You heard of them, I hope?”

“I was raised in the South, just like you.”  Then it was Rocky’s turn to smile.  “I’m going to go with Little Richard, though.” 

Dex laughed, the joke too good to resist.  For a moment, they looked at each other, appreciating Rocky’s move in selecting that famously outrageous queen. 

Then the moment was gone.  Dex turned away, scowling, something infuriating him suddenly that Rocky could only imagine.  He didn’t need to imagine it.  He’d seen the look on a thousand men, the moment of freedom, of joy, in being themselves, that they just as quickly buried, deep in the ground, before someone else did it for them.

“So we’re good?” Jason asked.  “You guys up for doing this today?”

“Hell yeah,” Dex said.

“No problem,” Rocky agreed.

“Okay.  Guitars at sunset instead of pistols at sunrise, right?”

Rocky and Dex nodded.  But it might as well be pistols, Rocky thought.  This was going to be a war.

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Who is Mike Hunt?  And what is wrong with him?  Well, nothing, actually, but if I want to tell people about this post on LinkedIn, or practically anywhere else, I have to be a bit of a cunning linguist about it.   It isn't actually Mike Hunt I'm going to talk about anyway.  That is between Mike Hunt and I.  I'm talking about all the Mike Hunts in the world, and why people seem to have such a problem with their name.

Okay, that's enough waffle to make it safe to link onto Facebook and other social media sites without getting my wrists slapped (I hope.)  Now let's get down to business.

So, what is wrong with the word cunt?  After all, I'm sure the habitants of Gropecunt Lane in London wouldn't have batted an eyelid.  But that was in the Dark Ages.  Could it be that the Dark Ages were actually more enlightened than we are now?  (Looking at reality TV, I do wonder...)

When did it become the go-to word for "stupid?"  What is it that stirs people and makes them so uncomfortable?  It has gained an almost mythic status that other obscene words don't have any more.  It's the one that people save for the most dire of occasions, if they say it at all.  It still has the ability to shock.  Once you've said it, you've officially gained your potty-mouthed status, and no-one can ever take it away from you.  I have used it myself, usually when I've met some wide boy with a customised Overfinch (WTF?) and glitzy gold jewellery.  Tell them they're a "flash cunt" and they go all giggly, like adolescents at a One Direction concert.  It works every time.  (Don't sue me if they thump you, though.)

But hang on, what did I mean when I said it?  I wasn't calling him stupid.  I could easily have called him a "flash fucker" or a "flash bastard."  In the end it's a question of degrees.  How flash was he, and how would he react to being called a "cunt?"  I made that lightning decision, based on how well I knew him, his personality, sense of humour and the shit he was wearing.  That's a lot of processes going through my head.   

For the record, I too have been called a cunt.  I take it as a compliment, even though it wasn't meant as one.  It's a bit like getting a bad review.  If someone has bothered to write down their ire, it means they feel strongly about it, after all.

Other offensive words don't have the same impact.  Shit, for example, is almost acceptable again.  (I say again, because the last time it was acceptable, it was in the Middle Ages.)  It's a useful way of conveying moods in as few words as possible.  "The movie was shit" is easier to say than "that's two and a half hours of my life I won't get back again."  It has a comedy element to it in the same way as poo does.  We are so scatilogically-minded as human beings.


Fuck is still pretty strong, but there are ways round it.  Just ask the Irish (fecking,) the South Londoners (fooking,) Eastenders (facking) and anyone in the States (fricking,)  And it has lots of uses.  Crazy as fuck.  Fucking A!  Fuck knows.  Who gives a fuck?  Fuck me!  It's a noun, a verb, an adjective, an expression of ecstasy or high irritation.  It's a really useful word and covers everything from dropping a hammer on your toe to going into raptures over a chocolate mousse.  Given it is so useful, I'm surprised more people don't use it.

As for cunt, it is more mainstream than one might think.  After all, the Vagina Monologues dedicate over two hours to it.  I've sat in a theatre with a thousand other nice middle-class women of all ages, all shouting the word at the tops of their voices.  Did they blush?  Not a bit of it.

But did it then mean they would yell it to the next person to cut them up on the motorway? No.  

Why not?

What makes the word cunt so terrifyingly powerful?  Is it because we need a final barrier that decent people can say stop at and say "you'll know I'm really upset because I wouldn't say anything that terrible otherwise."  

Is it a way of saying, "take me seriously or else?"

I believe it's because people need boundaries.  And the word sets boundaries in ways that most obscene words don't.  After all, if we lose the power to shock each other, we miss out.  Just think of the book Atonement, by Ian McKewan.  That classic novel was written around the power of that one word. Without that power, the book would have been just another (extremely well-written) family saga.

And remember that men don't have the equivalent.  They use cunt to extreme convey fear and aggression, especially towards women, but it isn't the word that is the problem.  A gun is only dangerous as the person holding it.   Don't blame the word, blame the person who uses it as a weapon.  They could just as easily say "bitch," but the way they say it is key.

Cunt is passion, rage and fervour.  No other word instills such strong reactions, especially in women.  I used it three times  in The Cloud Seeker, and at one book group, I was told to justify every instant.  It was in context, and wasn't just thrown in there to make the book "edgy," but most of the women thought it unnecessary.  (All three instances stayed in.)  I find it slightly strange that women dislike it so intently.  This is our word, after all.  We should own it and be proud of it, but like all powerful words, use it wisely and in moderation.  After all, to shock and be shocked is what keeps us alive.

Savi x