Firsts

by Erobintica



At first, I couldn't find it. I scanned the shelf and saw Best this and Best that, but not Best Erotic Romance. The self-service computer station said there were three copies on the anthology shelf of this large chain bookstore in New York City. I was with friends, and we'd stopped in on a chilly December day to grab some coffee, use the restrooms, and warm up while wandering the aisles. I figured I'd look for this anthology even though it had not been officially released yet. I had a story in this book and I was anxious to see it.

As I tilted my neck at an odd angle to read the titles, I felt disappointment. The all-knowing computer had lied to me. But then I noticed something. The anthologies were alphabetized by editor's name. It just so happened that several of the "Bests" had early-in-the-alphabet editors, so I hadn't looked much further. So I scanned down each shelf, lower and lower, till there on the bottom shelf, where I never would have looked for a B, was three copies! Edited by Kristina Wright.

I pulled it off the shelf and turned to the table of contents. There on page 179 was "Till the Storm Breaks" by Erobintica. Me! I literally bounced over to my friends and waved the book in their faces. Jumping up and down and squealing like a little kid, it's hard to describe the elation I felt. I bought a copy and posed while a friend took a picture of me with the book. When I got home I posted it on Facebook, not caring that my friends list spans well beyond my "erotica blog friends" because it was a proud moment for me.

Best Erotic Romance was not my first erotica publication. I've been published in a couple of e-book anthos as well as on my blog and other blogs (including many "flashers" that were entered in Alison Tyler's button contests a few years back). It was not my first print publication. I've had numerous poems in print journals and anthologies. I've had an essay included in a book about poem revision that I understand is used in teaching, though I've never seen it in a bookstore. It was not the first time I've been paid for writing. But it was the first time I had an erotica story accepted and published in print, in a real-life book–with a cover and pages you can fan–and it was sitting on the shelf just like so many other books I've purchased in my life. That I got paid for it was just icing. I actually had the thought "I AM a writer."

Well, duh. But as I'm sure many writers do, I go through periods of time when I question that. Assume it's just dumb luck that a certain piece gets accepted. That I'll never write something like that again. But luckily, I don't think that way all the time. I've spent enough time, face-to-face time, with many other writers, and I know I am of that breed.
Another way I know is that now, I have been…

Reviewed! My story in BER got a "C" grade. It was through Facebook that I became aware of this review. I actually am not obsessive in the least about them, actually forget to even look for them. Oh yeah, I have a story in a book that might get a review. But I don't go searching them out. Not because I'm afraid, but because for me, once a story or poem is out there in the world, there's nothing I can do about it. People are going to like it, hate it, or just feel so-so about it.

When I commented on Facebook about my "C" grade, saying something along the lines of "I've always been a C student," many friends rushed to reassure me. That was nice, but unnecessary. I found my reaction to this particular review interesting. There was the initial disappointment, but then I started to view it as a challenge. Well, duh, of course I can write something better. Not that "Till the Storm Breaks" isn't a good story. Kristina wouldn't have chosen it if it wasn't. But I hope there's always a better story to be written.

I have a great deal of respect for editors. I know what's involved. My husband is an editor. I'm co-editing a poetry anthology. I've many friends who are editors. As a result, I've never felt any anger at an editor for rejecting my work. I know there is a reason, maybe it's just not a good fit, or there's other similar pieces already accepted, or it is just not as good as it could be. I learned early on, if a poem is rejected over and over again, that means it's time to revisit it and figure out why. Sometimes, even when I figure out why, I don't want to change it yet. That's my prerogative as a writer. So I have a humongous amount of not-quite-finished work.

Also, I'm a bit of a perfectionist, and don't like to send stuff out that isn't as good as I can make it. Sometimes little things get through that only I realize were mistakes. But like with cooking, if you make a mistake and it still turns out great, you don't tell anyone! I fear I'm bragging, but I've not noticed many edits to the pieces that have been accepted. That may be because I've gone over it myself many times, often have had my editor husband read through it, as well as other friends (both published erotica authors and not). I print out and read out loud before sending. But that doesn't guarantee perfection. Hehe.

Sometimes a short edit takes me by surprise. Alessia Brio accepted the first piece of erotica I sent out for Coming Together: Al Fresco. When I got my digital copy and read my story–because of course I read my own first–I noticed there was a slight change in the ending. The edit was small, but it changed the tone of the ending. At first I was taken aback. Mainly because I'd mostly published poetry up till then, and most editors don't tend to mess with a poet's lines on their own. So this was a new experience. But I could see why the change was made. With the edit, the story ended on an upbeat note rather than a downer. I'd written the story close to 18 years previously and needless to say, was in a different place. I'm glad she made the change. It was an instructive moment for me.

My piece in Best Erotic Romance has sort of been a game-changer for me. Up until I held that book in my hand, I really was wondering if I was cut out for this. What drove me to start writing erotica has shifted. In other words, I've gone through menopause, and I'm looking at my erotic imagination in another light. I'm listening to what my editors, readers, and yeah, even reviewers are saying about my work (I've had several more acceptances since BER) so that I can find this new voice, one that reflects the life I've lived. And I look forward to many more firsts.

*****

Erobintica is poet, writer, and blogger Robin Elizabeth Sampson. She sent off her first piece of erotica for publication as she turned 50 years old. That was published in Coming Together: Al Fresco edited by Alessia Brio. Her erotica's been included in Best Erotic Romance edited by Kristina Wright and upcoming in Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and Still Naked: Erotica for Seniors edited by Joan Price. Her blog is http://erobintica.blogspot.com/. Two of her poems were finalists at the 2010 Seattle Erotic Art Festival and she's featured at Philadelphia's The Erotic Literary Salon.

Romancing the Book

by Kristina Wright

I have enjoyed reading this week's posts-- seeing familiar names of editors I have worked with, editors I wanted to work with and others who have been so important to my erotica writing world. Marcy Sheiner was the first editor to publish my work in print (in Best Women's Erotica, of course) and I learned so much from her editorial process even if it hurt my ego at the time. Adam Nevill bought several stories from me for various Black Lace anthologies and he is a prince among men. I would write for him wherever he went-- and that's why I'm writing for Mischief now.

Kerri Sharp never bought anything from me during her tenure at Black Lace, but she did send me a very thoughtful, encouraging rejection in my early days of erotica writing. By the time I'd gotten up the nerve to send her something else, she was leaving Black Lace and Adam was taking over. I was struck by her wit and charm and regret that I never got to work with her.

But this isn't about my first erotica sale-- I've covered that pretty in-depth already at the Erotic Readers and Writers Association blog with my post How It All Started and my OGG peers have mentioned several of my other early editors, as well. This is about my first major sale-- my Silhouette Intimate Moments romantic suspense novel Dangerous Curves.

In the mid-nineties, I started reviewing romance novels for the now defunct Literary Times Magazine. (Think RT Book Reviews on a smaller scale.) I hadn't really read romance since I was in high school, so it was an education to see how far the genre had come. I devoured them, reviewing 4 or 5 books a week. After about a year of reviewing romance novels of every subgenre, I had the brilliant idea that I could write one. After all, I knew what was selling and which editors were buying, thanks to the acknowledgements and dedications. To this point, I'd been writing short horror fiction (all unpublished), greeting cards, essays and the like. I'd started a couple of novels but never finished anything. Reading a couple hundred romances proved to be the perfect training ground for writing one. (And something I'd recommend for any new writer-- being a book reviewer makes you read critically and analyze why a book works-- or doesn't.)

Dangerous Curves was the second full-length novel I ever wrote. My first was Faith, the first book in a trilogy of historical romances. I never sold Faith and I never wrote the other two books. Trust me, it was for the best. I was not meant to be a historical romance author. When I was still writing Dangerous Curves, I entered the Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart contest. The Golden Heart is the contest for unpublished romance authors (the Rita is for published authors). I'd already entered Dangerous Curves in a couple of regional contests and done well, so I thought I'd give the GH a shot.

Long story short, in 1998 I won the Golden Heart award for Best Romantic Suspense. The final round judges were editors who acquired in the genre. The Silhouette editor who judged my category contacted me about submitting the final manuscript to her. Here's the ironic part-- my agent had already submitted Dangerous Curves to a different editor at Silhouette (now folded into Harlequin) and that editor wanted to buy it. So right out of the gate, I had to tell an editor that my book had been acquired by someone else. It was a heady experience.

The editor who ultimately bought my first novel was Mary Theresa Hussey (known as Matrice, if you're lucky enough to work with her). I was terrified of Mary Theresa. She was a big New York editor at the major romance publisher. Say what you will about Harlequin-- and it's all been said-- but they know how to market romance fiction and they are constantly evolving to suit the interests of their readers. I thought that selling my book to Silhouette meant I was done and could sit back and enjoy the glory. Hardly. Matrice and I talked on the phone and she told me she'd be sending me a revision letter. I stammered enthusiastically that I was willing to make whatever changes she thought necessary. I'd heard about diva romance authors and didn't want to be perceived as one of them.

The revision letter I got the following week was as long as the first chapter of Dangerous Curves. Or at least it seemed like it. I'd have to dig it up, but I believe it was three single-spaced pages. I was literally in tears after reading it. How could she possibly want to publish my book if there was this much wrong with it? There was a whole subplot she wanted me to cut, as well as toning down some of the language and taking out two sex scenes (foreshadowing my erotica writing career, perhaps). There were some things she wanted me to do that I didn't even understand-- I had to call her for clarification.

I took a few deep breaths and dug into her revisions. It was scary as hell to take my original vision for my book and make those changes. I had to unravel an entire thread (that's how I thought of it) of the story to strip out that subplot she thought didn't work. A few weeks later, I had a leaner, better book. Despite the revisions from hell (which is more or less what every Harlequin/Silhouette author called them), my first book sale came easy. Maybe too easy. I was never able to sell a second book to Matrice, or any of the subsequent editors I worked with when I was passed on to a new editor. I became more and more discouraged. I stopped being enthusiastic about what I was writing because it seemed liked everything was getting rejected. I didn't want to get too invested in a story only to have it turned down.

In retrospect, I missed opportunities to make that second sale because I had it in my head that it shouldn't be so hard once I made the first sale. But hell, I was barely 30 and had never really had a hard time getting what I wanted if I put in some effort. It's a curse of the academically gifted to be surprised when something turns out to be harder than we expect. Making that second novel sale became the elusive goal that evaded me and I couldn't understand why. I had an agent, a coveted award, a publishing contract with a New York Publisher. Making another book sale should have been easy, right? In truth, making the second book sale is even harder than making the first sale-- the bar has been set, along with the expectations, and nothing less than the best will do. In my case, I wanted to write in other subgenres and wasn't giving Silhouette what they wanted to see.

I never became a diva, but I did become my own worst enemy. I resented my agent for not telling me the "right" thing to do; I resented Mary Theresa for "abandoning" me to a new editor, then I resented that editor for not knowing what the senior editor would like. Etc. After a time, I resented my own laziness, expectations and/or lack of skill (depending on the day and how depressed I felt) that was keeping me from making another book sale. And so, in a rut from submitting endless proposals, I turned my back on Harlequin and focused on writing erotica. While I love my erotica writing community, I often wish I hadn't walked away from romance fiction so quickly. But at the time, with an award and book sale coming back-to-back within a year or so of starting to write novels, it didn't seem quick. It felt like forever. And when I didn't make another sale in eighteen months, I pretty much gave up.

I haven't sold another novel since Mary Theresa Hussey bought Dangerous Curves. Of course, I haven't pitched a novel since those couple of years after my first book sale. I've had a hundred (at least) writing sales since then, but with the exception of a few NaNoWriMo novels (mostly unfinished), I have meandered off the novel path entirely. I'd like to get back there. I would like to write (and sell) another novel. Or two. Or a dozen. This time around, I will remember what I learned from my experience with Mary Theresa Hussey-- that a revision letter is not a punishment, it's a reward for writing a book that an editor thinks is worth publishing. It's a guideline for making a better book. It's a commitment from an editor who believes in me. I didn't take full advantage of all Matrice had to offer in terms of knowledge and experience-- I won't make that mistake again.

A quick check of the Harlequin website shows that Mary Theresa Hussey is now Executive Editor. It doesn't surprise me in the least that she's still at Harlequin and has moved up the editorial ladder. I sincerely doubt she'd remember me-- a one hit wonder in the late 90s-- but I will never forget her and I'm very grateful for the time she put into making my first book the best it could be. I learned a lot from my experience of that first sale-- I just wish I'd learned sooner.

Sinking Ships and Miraculous Rescues

My first three erotic stories were written in response to a call-for-submissions for lesbian erotica from Lace Publications (of Colorado) in 1988. I mailed my babies off, and was delighted to get a written acceptance from two pseudonymous editors. One was named "Moonyean."

Then the publishing company went bust. It seemed unlikely that I would ever meet the two marvelously accepting but shadowy lesbian editors from California.

History repeated itself ten years later. In 1998, I was blessed with two months off work, but with full pay, and I decided to make the most of it. I spent eight-hour days at the brand-new computer that my sweetie and I had acquired, composing a lesbian novel full of sex scenes and local colour: I managed to link a real-life political scandal to the real-life murder trial of two young men who had tormented and killed a sex worker for sport. As far as I knew, no one else on the Canadian prairies had ever written anything like this. I sandwiched in one of my first three stories as a chapter in the novel. This was "The Princess and the Outlaw," a kind of lesbian folk tale in which the outlaw, Yora of the Forest, is a female bandit who hates the royal family and especially the heiress to the throne. But lust conquers all.

I printed off the 56,000-word manuscript of the novel, stuffed it into a manila envelope and mailed it to Masquerade Books in New York. This was the one erotic publisher I knew of. No answer.

After several months, I sent a follow-up email, and got a response from an editor whose name I honestly can’t remember. She informed me that while there was much to admire in my novel, she had rejected it a long time before.

I re-read this message several times to suck out the juice, the message at the core. An erotic editor (my third, so to speak) had found something to admire in my writing. But she had rejected my whole novel, including the story-within-the-story, without letting me know. This seemed like a coded message from the Oracle of Delphi: important but hard for a mere mortal to understand.

Then Masquerade disappeared, much like Lace Publications.

I joined the Erotic Readers Association, as it was called then, and felt the warmth of an on-line community. The public site included a community bulletin board where calls-for-submissions were posted. One of them asked for stories about lesbians and their sex toys.

This call amazed me. I was a veteran of the Feminist Sex Wars of the 1980s, in which women could be exiled to Siberia for suggesting that womyn-loving womyn could enjoy any device that resembled a penis. My story featured a custom-made wooden dildo, heavily shellacked and artfully designed not to look like anything known to man. My story was ironically titled “Something Natural.”

I mailed my story to California editor Alison Tyler, who reported in the ERA lists that original publisher Masquerade was unfortunately deceased, and the anthology might have to be cancelled. This proved it: I was a jinx.

To my surprise, at long last British publisher Diva Books offered to publish, and my story was accepted with almost no revisions. Alison Tyler was an angel of mercy! I was delighted when a paperback copy of Batteries Not Included was mailed to me. I was between the covers with famous sex-writers!

The photo on the front showed a babe with short dark hair, back to the viewer, sitting on her naked butt. A friend in my actual town asked half-jokingly if that was me.

I was now a published author of erotica, and I was eager to crack two great annual anthologies from Cleis Press: Best Women's and Best Lesbian Erotica.

2000 was a very good year. Editor Marcy Sheiner accepted "Cycles" (my story about a man and a woman, each with a past history of same-sex relationships, who meet in the laundry room of their apartment building) for Best Women's Erotica. When I first saw my paper manuscript marked up by her red pen, I couldn't breathe. Then I noticed that all the suggested changes eliminated unnecessary words or phrases without changing the plot, the dialogue or any description of the characters.

In the same year, series editor Tristan Taormino and consulting editor Pat Califia accepted "The Princess and the Outlaw" for Best Lesbian Erotica. Yes! The editing was gentle, although the editing process was nerve-wracking: the first acceptance letter told me that my story had survived the first round of rejections. I was asked to sign and return a contract, which would be void if my story didnt survive the next cut. It did, and eventually appeared in the book.

Other members of ERA told me how hard it was to break into either of those annual collections. I seemed to have beginner's luck.

This continued in 2001, when my first story about a Mary Sue academic Domme, Dr. Athena Chalkdust, was accepted for Best Lesbian Erotica 2001. (Later, it was accepted for Best of the Best Lesbian Erotica 2.) Eventually, I had a string of stories in BLE 2004, 05, 06, 07 and 09, but several of my annual submissions were cut from the short list.

My acceptance in England continued. Adrienne, webmistress of ERA, sent me a private email to say that editor Kerri Sharp of Black Lace Books had complained to her about the clichés and sentimentality of the lesbian erotica in her slush pile. Apparently Ms. Sharp asked Adrienne to recommend a writer of hard-edged lesbian erotica like Pat Califia or Carol Queen. Adrienne recommended me!

Feeling like an imposter, I contacted Ms. Sharp, who offered to let me bend the rules by sending her my story submissions by email instead of mailing them to London from the middle of Canada. Eventually, she accepted four of my erotic stories: "Hades and Persephone" (a lesbian retelling of the ancient Greek myth), "Meeting the Bitch" (about an all-woman triangle), "Opening Ceremony" (about the opening of a dress shop and a woman with past experience in the sex trade, like me), and the already-published "Cycles" for two anthologies in the Wicked Words series (#3 and #8). To disguise her acceptance of two of my stories for each book, she asked me to make up a different pen name for each.

The disguise was a turn-on. In the best lesbian tradition, I felt as though I were slouching about the virtual streets of Sexville, naked under a raincoat, with a fedora pulled down over my eyes.

By then, I had enough confidence to continue writing even when an editor`s response disappointed me. Every year for several years, I pelted Marcy Sheiner with submissions for Best Women`s Erotica. She rejected most of them without telling me to stop sending her this crap.

In a few cases, I felt she completely misunderstood my intentions, possibly because I hadn`t made them clear enough. I sent her a story named "Taste," about a middle-aged librarian who has vivid memories of breast-feeding her daughter, now grown, and has a hallucinatory dream about sex with a gargoyle. Marcy told me the story needed to be revised to make it clearer that the narrator is a woman who needs to be needed. My viewpoint character was somewhat autobiographical, and I didn’t feel this was her raison d'etre. I explained this, and Marcy sensibly suggested that we probably couldn't come to an agreement about her. Years later, Cecilia Tan, founder of Circlet Press, accepted that story for an anthology of fantasy erotica.

Different strokes, as they say, for different folks. I learned that no one's taste is completely objective, and that I could survive a deal-breaking difference of opinion.

How far would I go to stay in an editor's good graces? Farther than some devoted submissives, I'm sure, especially when it seems harder than ever before to make money from published erotica. Yet there comes a time when a writer and an editor simply can't agree on a particular piece, and this is not a sign of incompetence on either side.

When to hang in there, retweaking and revisioning, and when to walk away? Now there is a topic for another post.

Kill Your darlings, Pass Me the Axe

In a way it’s the Vegan gluten free lasagna over there I respect. It doesn’t sound good. It has broccoli in it for god’s sakes. It takes audacity, balls of brass, to make lasagna with broccoli. I wouldn't have the guts to pull it off. The woman who made it, a young woman named Jennifer who plays her own songs at the church service on a guitar and has a terrific voice, probably hopes people will like her Vegan lasagna as much as her songs, and because the idea of Vegan lasagna with goddamn motherless broccoli is so weird and defiantly healthy I grab it right away. I just have to know what it's like. Actually it’s really, really good. After my first round I stand up to get some more but it’s already served out. Damn, these indies, you never know. They surprise you.

Later on, I’m setting up shop in the Starbucks, watching the girls go by in their summer clothes. I’ve had a good day today at church. It was an anniversary with a lasagna party afterwards and I was desperately worried my lasagna wouldn’t get eaten. I’m a needy guy. I was asked by name to make lasagna because I have a reputation for making outstanding lasagna. I take pride in it. We who create things want people to like our stuff while we put on a pose of self deprecating modesty.

"Oh was it? Ah ha hah, nothing really. Something I just threw together this morning out of leftovers. And cat food. You know, a little hot sauce fixes everything."

The girls going past me in the short shorts and flip flops would never admit it, but they like to be seen by guys. There is a dynamic there, of seer and seen, maker and eater, writer and reader. Ever other day when I sit down to pay my dues at the keyboard and feel my confidence drain out of me, I tell myself I don’t give a shit, I write for myself, I don’t care if anybody reads it or if anybody buys it. Art should be pure and so on, but really folks.

Read me. My inner neediness whimpers each and every time, the same neediness that checks the buffet table at the church potluck to see if the lasagna is being appreciated.

I always say that you don’t choose the genre, the genre chooses you. If I could choose a genre for myself it would be teenage vampire thrillers, novels with brooding sexy guys with names like Wraath, and Wrage and Phuck and sell zillions and have them made into major movies that kids would line up for.

I write effing short stories.

Being a short story writer isn’t something you’d rationally choose anymore than you’d rationally choose to be gay or transsexual or making Vegan goddamn broccoli lasagna. It’s more like a neural aberration you learn to live with. We write what the story fairy gives us. Mine gives me short stories instead of novels. Erotica short stories, which is even tougher. If you’re a novelist you get six figure advances and royalties and book tours. If you’re a short storiest you get contributor copies most of the time. The only thing sorrier than being a short story writer is being a poet. Even William Effing Shakespeare got the blues too:

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
(Sonnet 29)

Shakespeare didn’t make a dime off his sonnets by the way.

The only thing rougher than a poet is a poetry editor. And for a short story editor things aren’t much easier. The art and curse of the short story and the poem are very closely related. Like handicapped children, you have to love them for their own sake and because they’re yours and need to be loved. They won’t make you rich.

How many short story editors are there in the world? Probably not that many although short fiction is lately going through a renaissance with the advent of ebook anthologies like the Coming Together series. Asking a short story writer about his first editor is a kind of painfully defensive topic like asking him about all his adoring fans lined up out there in reader land. The fact is I’ve really only had one. That’s our own Lisabet Sarai.

I first came across Lisabet on Erotica Readers and Writers Association which is where most of us bloggers here at OGG hailed from at one time or another. It’s our creative scene. I knew Lisabet’s name long before I ever showed up there around 2005 or so. It was the first time in my life I had ever been in the presence of other writers or even a serious discussion among writers. It was the same feeling I had the first day I showed up at my newly adopted church, that feeling of having serendipitously landed feet first in exactly the right puddle. I listened more than I wrote at the time, which is what I still do. I marveled at the independence of thought. With that came a haunting sense of lost karma, that somehow in the tone and voices of the people there I had stumbled on a lost trajectory, a hint of the life that maybe I should have had if other things hadn’t intervened. And then there was Lisabet.

Lisabet was on the writers list. ERWA is a house of many rooms and many forms of conversation. There’s a room where stories are fielded for comment, a room where people stand around and bullshit, and then there’s the writer’s room where writers talk about the fine points of craft and business. Lisabet was the most glamorous girl on the dance floor and I went against my nature by walking up to her when normally I would have hung back. It makes a huge difference when you have something to talk about. I’m working on a story. Can I show it to you?

Around 1998 when I broke away from the religious life I had known for over twenty years, I went through such a wrenching spiritual struggle that I experienced being haunted by a ghost. This trauma obsessed me and I wanted to find a way to write about it. I was fan of Japanese cinema and classical ghost stories so I took a traditional Japanese ghost story and wrote an erotic version of it called “The Color of the Moon”. I rewrote it over and over and over for years, until I didn’t know how to change it any further. I asked Lisabet if she would take a look at it and fully expected her to blow me off. I was thrilled and frightened when she cheerfully agreed. This was a full length novella, not an easy thing to wade through.

In her eyes, it wasn’t that bad. It had possibilities. The sex scene, my first, was clumsily handled in every way and she worked long and hard with me to straighten out the action and the language. Cut out some unnecessary characters.

There is a phrase among editors – “Kill your darlings.” It doesn’t mean give your characters a bad time, though that’s important too, what it means is cut out all the slick phrases and flap doodle that call out to the reader “Look how good I’m writing!”

A good writer, especially in the craft of short stories, should be able to disappear, to present the tale without drawing attention to him/her self. This is even trickier when writing in first person. Editors do way more than just pick up grammatical nits or help you arrange your stories in order. A good editor will make you a better writer.

One of the things a good editor, I’m thinking of Lisabet here, does for you is hand you the ax to murder your darlings with. There is a relationship here requiring firmness of spine from the editor and a clear vision from the writer. The writer has to know what he wants to say. The editor can help him find the right way to say it. But before any of that happens the writer has to have something to say. Nobody can help you there.



C. Sanchez-Garcia

Dream Weaver

It's appropriate that I get to talk about my first editor, this week. Because my first editor is also my latest editor, for the new imprint I'm working for - the one that is launching properly this week.

Yep, my first editor was Adam Nevill, at Black Lace. And he is now my editor, at Mischief. And there's a reason for that.

It's because Adam Nevill is, and always has been, hugely supportive of my work. Not just kind about it. Not just an editor of it. A supporter of it. And I think it's safe to say that without him, I wouldn't be where I am now.

I just wouldn't.

If there's one thing that defines me, as a writer, it's fear. I'm afraid to fail. Afraid to succeed. I spent years and years and years too scared to submit, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I had submitted and been rejected, I might not have tried again.

So thank God for Adam Nevill, who wrote me the loveliest and yet most matter of fact email in response to my first ever (paper!) short story submission, to the Love At First Bite anthology. It was like...he just expected me to expect acceptance. As though he thought I already knew it was a given, and if it was okay with me, could he publish the story?

When in truth, I never expected anything of the kind. I thought that his response would mark the end of my silly dream to be a writer - that finally, I would get my head out of the clouds, and be normal. And instead, it marked the one occasion in my life where dreaming actually turned out okay.

It didn't slap me in the face. I didn't have to be sorry that I'd done this thing.

Adam made me not sorry. And not only did he make me not sorry, he encouraged me to sub more. He accepted my next three stories. And then he did something unimaginable, something that to this day reminds me that all of this was worthwhile and that sometimes, dreams do come true:

He asked me to write my own collection of short stories. He just flat out asked me, in that same sturdy, matter of fact sort of manner I've come to depend on, from him. If there's anything you could wish for, from an editor - wish for them to be levelheaded.

Because I am not levelheaded. I am up and down, excitable, neurotic. I can't handle stuff, and never imagine that I'm good enough to flat out ask for something. So to have an editor - a first editor - who offered things...

Well, that was something. It helped my courage. It bolstered me, for times to come - and believe me, they weren't easy. It was the only experience I could have had with a first editor, and come out fighting on the other side. Things could easily have been different - I could have been crushed, forever.

But I wasn't. And that's thanks to one of the greatest editors in the business, one of the best erotic editors the world has ever known:

Adam Nevill.

His support, his guidance, his help has meant the world to me, and continues to do so now. It's meant that I got to write my first novel - Control - because when he moved to Xcite he asked me if I wanted to write for him there. It's meant that I now get to write for another fantastic imprint - Mischief - because he emailed me when he was first looking for authors to fill the line.

I don't know why he likes my writing, but I do know this: all of these things make me a very, very lucky person. He could have easily hated my work. He could have thought I was nonsense. But he didn't, and so here I am:

A published author of over 30 short stories, 20 novellas, and five novels, with a new one released last week. Without Adam I wouldn't have a career, and for that, I thank him. He is the best first editor an author could hope for.


Want to find out more about Mischief, the line Adam edits? Go here:

http://www.mischiefbooks.com/

And if you want to find out about my new book with them, you can find an excerpt, buy links and a bit about it here:


http://themightycharlottestein.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/my-new-book-power-play.html

A Virgin in Red

By Kathleen Bradean

About two years after I joined the Erotica Readers and Writer's Association's wonderful writing community (still one of the best web based writer's groups out there) I submitted my first story for publication. Not content to go small, I headed directly for Best Women's Erotica. At the time, Marcy Sheiner was the editor, and submissions were mailed on paper.

Every writer who has seen an acceptance knows the elation of that first yes. Acceptances never get old. Every one feels like a major accomplishment. And every rejection still makes me want to crawl under my desk and hold world's smallest pity party.

But Marcy said yes. Then she mailed her edits back. The first page almost dripped with red ink. My first thought was "and this is a story she liked?" The following pages were marked up quite a bit too, but nothing like the first page. There was a huge X through my first four hundred words followed by the note: "Your story starts here."

I took a deep breath as I realized this was the most important turning point a writer ever has to face. I could throw a diva fit and tell her that my words were sacred, or I could turn off my ego. I chose the second option, and man, am I ever glad I did.

By the time I worked through Marcy's edits, my story was so much better. So much better. Nothing was lost but the crap. I felt as if I'd been through a master class in writing. Now that I've helped other writers with detailed critiques, I realize how much time Marcy gave to me, and I am so grateful. I should have paid her. She changed the way I approach stories and told them. In that one edit, she taught me how to create a story that would sell. Instead of my long rambling warm-up approach, I jump right into the middle of action. I make each word pull its weight. I understanding pacing better.

To many writers, editors are the enemy, but not for me. I work with an editor for my novels now, Kelley from Sterling Editing, and as with Marcy, each session is a personalized master class. I learn so much, and I see great leaps forward in my writing during the process. The ability to create stories may be an innate gift, but writing those stories is a craft. As with any craft, it takes practice and work and desire to improve - and a really great editor to show you what to work on.

The Highly Acute Ms. Sharp

By Lisabet Sarai

Kristina's asked us to write about our first editor. I considered changing names, or avoiding using them altogether, but I realized upon further consideration that the identity of my first editor is a matter of public record. In 1999, when I submitted my first novel, everyone in the small erotica community knew Kerri Sharp, the dynamic editor who had made Black Lace a phenomenon in the fiction world.

I wasn't able to discover via Internet research whether Ms. Sharp served as Black Lace editor from the imprint's inception in 1993. I wouldn't be surprised. Certainly she authored the detailed, literate and slightly snarky guidelines I received (by postal mail, of course) when I sent my first inquiry. I was delighted to discover that I still have the original of that document in my files (despite having sold my house and moved halfway around the world since then!) I hope that it's acceptable for me to provide some quotes, which may tell you more about the estimable Ms. Sharp than any of my descriptions.

Contrary to popular belief, it is not the editor's primary function to correct mistakes of English. The editor is there to give advice on plot, characterisation, house style, series continuity, etc. ... In any case, if a writer is unable to use English correctly, it is unlikely that she will have mastered the more refined techniques of writing.

Here's another gem:

If in doubt, go with the more comprehensible turn of phrase. Clarity of expression is a prerequisite of most well-written fiction. This is particularly so for erotic fiction....That is not to say that you should write blandly; or that you should restrict the vocabulary you use to that of a child; or that you should avoid artifice and tricks of technique. Our readers are not stupid, but impatient. As with all other writing, you should use your craft to the utmost; but the tricks you use should be much less visible in erotic writing. Your characters are marionnettes, but your readers should not be able to see the strings.

Reviewing these guidelines now, after more than a dozen years as an erotic author, I have a new appreciation both of Ms. Sharp's wisdom and her ability to articulate it. Back when I first received this document, which is thirteen pages long and tends to focus on what Black Lace definitely did not want, I found myself intimidated to the point that I almost dismissed the whole idea of submitting to them.

Almost. I'm infinitely grateful that I got over my feelings of inadequacy to the point that I could continue with my crazy plan.

I wrote the first three chapters of Raw Silk, struggling mightily with the British spelling and punctuation required by the guidelines. About two weeks after I mailed the chapters plus synopsis (hardcopy, in those days), I received a postcard acknowledging my submission and warning me that due to the size of the Black Lace slush pile, I should not expect any feedback for several months. I shrugged and stored the card in my files. The possibility that Ms. Sharp would want my book seemed quite remote.

Imagine my surprise when I got an email from her three days after the arrival of the card, offering me a contract! In particular, she wanted me to give her a date by which I could send the complete manuscript.

I hadn't a clue. I made a wild guess that quickly became a legal commitment, then set about fulfilling that commitment.

I was pretty pleased when I put the manuscript into the post (actually, I believe I Fedexed it), with a week to spare. Imagine my dismay when I received a stern email from Ms. Sharp informing me that I had not lived up to my contract. I'd contracted to produce a novel of 80,000 words. The manuscript I'd sent was only 73,000. I had no idea back then that the length really mattered. I spent a frantic weekend writing a new chapter and an epilogue and rushed them over to the UK.

Kerri Sharp's edits to my text were as numerous and exhaustive as one might expect from her guidelines. Although she didn't hold back from suggesting changes to structure or plot, the bulk of her modifications focused on my American vocabulary, spelling, punctuation and style. For instance, she wanted to change all my "panties" to "knickers". Meanwhile, I couldn't even think "knickers" without bursting out laughing. Men's clothing caused problems, too. I remember many a pair of "pants" that I had to turn into "trousers".

Perhaps the most controversial change she requested was in the final scene, a competition staged to allow my heroine to choose one man from among her three eager lovers. Of course Kate selects the dominant Gregory, who carries her off to the bathroom, binds her to the plumbing, and proceeds to screw her the way she wants. That scene originally ended with a golden shower, as Gregory claimed and marked his woman in the most physical way I could imagine.

I personally thought this was intense and erotic, but my editor made me remove it (although to Black Lace's credit, the list of forbidden topics in the guidelines does not include bodily fluids). Kerri argued that even though I thought this was sexy, many readers wouldn't agree. She also commented, with impeccable logic, that a man with an erection would have serious difficulty carrying out the action as described.

I gave in. Probably that was the right choice. At the time, Kerri Sharp was an authority figure. I could easily imagine her wearing black leather and carrying a whip!

I never had the opportunity to meet Ms. Sharp. Google tells me she is now a senior editor for Simon & Schuster, where I'm certain she continues to provide her signature mix of acuity and passion. After the edits were done, while I was waiting for the book to come out, I used to fantasize about traveling to London for a big release party - hobnobbing with the other Black Lace authors (who, I was sure, must be glamorous, sexy individuals) and finally getting the chance to greet - and to thank - Kerri Sharp. At the time I didn't understand that publishing was a nuts-and-bolts business often handled on a shoestring budget. I imagined toasting Kerri with champagne - along with Portia da Costa, whose book inspired me to write for Black Lace in the first place. The dreams of a newbie!

Still, today, six novels and scores of short stories later, I'd like to raise a virtual toast to my tough, competent first editor. Some of the editors I've had since have made me appreciate her all the more. She might have been a bit prickly, but she was serious about her job, and she performed it with consummate skill.

I'll leave you with a final quote from the Black Lace guidelines.

Finally, it's worth considering the thesis that erotica is the most difficult genre to write successfully. Achieving and maintaining the reader's suspension of disbelief is more important in this genre than any other. More significantly, erotica stretches your writing skills to the utmost. You are called upon to create believable plot, character and settings, but you know that a) much of the book must consist of frequent and detailed descriptions of sex; and b) the actual events described must not be so unpleasant as to detract from the book's erotic charge. Your writing, therefore, has to be very efficient. Not a word can be wasted, and you have to make large parts of the text serve more than one function... Writing an erotic novel will certainly hone your authorial skills.

Back in 1999, I didn't realize how very true this was. Kerri Sharp helped me (and dozens of other erotic authors) do just that.