The Final Page

by Kathleen Bradean

This is my final post for Oh Get a Grip. it's been fun, but it's time to move on. The subjects have been interesting to explore and I love seeing what the others had to say. I'd like to thank my fellow Grippers for interesting insights and discussions, and thank readers who commented on my posts. 
Novels are the main reason I'm leaving. I'm writing two a year and that's all I have time to do anymore. It looks as if the new crew (and the remaining folks) will be an interesting group. I plan to check in to see what they have to say in the future.

I've written erotic for ten years. It's been a decade of wild change. This sounds like gramps on the porch, but I remember when agents wouldn't represent erotica writers and no one took our work seriously. It was trash. It was what you wrote only if you were desperate to be published. It was morally wrong. And that's only what writers in other genres openly said about it! They probably still do. And yet, the reading public has spoken, and they want to read it. The walls of shame are crumbling. The phenomenon of 50 Shades of Gray (FSOG) wouldn't have happened without the internet, fanfic, and all those brave writers who dared to write erotica long before it was popular.

I haven't read FSOG (I realize the topic is 'What are You Reading' not 'What Won't You Read, Ever') so I have not discussed it much, but since this is my farewell on a blog by erotica writers, I thought I'd say this about the biggest event within our genre since Anne Rice's Beauty series shook up the literary world: Books don't have worth. They have stories. Not every story is for every reader. I promise to try to be more understanding toward readers who like stories I don't. (and expect to fail spectacularly, but I'll keep trying)

As for what I am reading, I'm discovering Elisabeth Sanxoy Holding. She's amazing. But I'm also taking a detour through the classics of literary erotica. Perfume by Patrick Suskind. The Lover by Marguerite Duras, Delta of Venus by Anais Nin, Under the Rooftops of Paris by Henry Miller. I'll probably tackle Georges Bataille next or if I'm in a milder mood, Milan Kundera, or Paulo Coelho. It's a hard to define space, literary erotica, and it's dismally small. If you think of titles (Not The Story of O) please send them to me.

~

While I'm glad for readers and writers that erotic romance is gaining in popularity, as a literary erotica writer, I sometimes feel as if my niche has been pushed aside. That isn't exactly true. It's been overshadowed. But literary erotica has always existed perilously in the margins and will probably remain there. Literary eroticists have a small readership. I'll never enjoy huge sales, and there will never be a literary erotic con where readers line up to get my autograph. I've made my peace with that. If I wrote for money or a following I wouldn't write what I want to and frankly, FSOG aside, there's never enough money in writing to waste my time telling stories I don't like. So if you pick up something I've written, know that I wrote it for the pure joy of it. I hope it shows.

~

Somewhere between the clinical and the vulgar, there's a language of sensuality waiting for us. I addressed that (tried to) in my blog post Ephemeral Blaznous a few weeks ago, then found Anais Nin made a similar (and more cogent) comment in her forward in Delta of Venus. All these years later and it still doesn't exist. We may have to invent this language. Create it in your stories. Weave it into your tales. Write something wonderful. And write for the love of it.    

KB

~~

You can still find me on my personal blog,  or on ERWA blog for my monthly article Writing this Novel.

My erotic horror novel Night Creatures will be released soon (one way or another). Look for news on my blog.

Who Are You Calling Old?

In spite of some personal sorrows this past week, and these past months, I’ve been very lucky lately when it comes to reading.

My reading is often limited to books I’m supposed to review, either for the Erotica Revealed website— http://www.eroticarevealed — or for “blog tours” of anthologies edited by friends and associates. This doesn’t mean that I’m deprived in any way, just that I don’t get to choose what I read, which is often a good thing. Some of the books I wouldn’t otherwise consider turn out to broaden my horizons considerably, not such an easy task considering how far said horizons have already been pushed and prodded over the years. But this month I was assigned an anthology with a theme so appealing that I wish I had managed to contribute to it myself, filled with writers I admire and many I’ve worked with.

Ageless Erotica was edited by Joan Price for Seal Press. I’m not going to go into details of the individual stories, partly because I haven’t finished reading it—my review isn’t due to be turned in for five more days, and then you can read it on April 1—but more because I feel like discussing the theme as a whole. I will say that all the stories I’ve read so far are excellent, and I still have such favorite writers as Cheyenne Blue and DL King and Bill Noble to look forward to.

The theme is, as the editor states right at the beginning of her introduction, “Older folks still enjoy sex.” My knee-jerk reaction to this was twofold, which is fair enough, since I do still have two knees, both original equipment, albeit somewhat cranky. My first thought was, “Of course! Why would anyone doubt that?” And my other first thought, which I’ll bet most of us share, if only subconsciously, was “But, well, how old? Do many people—okay, do I—really want to read erotica about it?” Then I read a few lines further to discover that she’s talking about “erotica by, for, and about women and men ages fifty to eighty-plus.”

FIFTY? Both knees, both elbows, and various other parts jerked in outraged unanimity. Fifty isn’t old! And then I remembered doing a reading in NYC with some year’s edition of Best Lesbian Erotica, and opening my turn by saying that I was there to prove that there’s life after fifty. Got some pretty good applause for that. And I remember considering doing the same thing about ten years later, referring to life after sixty, but deciding against it.

It’s a truth not generally acknowledged that our perception as to what constitutes old age keeps changing as we get older, hovering some distance beyond wherever we are now. For that matter, our perception of what constitutes sex may undergo a certain degree of adjustment. But age brings experience, and no lack of imagination. Where there’s a will there are many creative ways, and yes, the will lives on. The stories I’ve read so far in Ageless Erotica display a lively variety that rings all the chimes you’d enjoy in any good assortment of erotica, as well as playing some new, ingenious, and ultra-seductive tunes.

Now for a personal anecdote. No, don’t worry, not that kind. (That kind you don’t get for free.) A few years ago I was browsing in a local alternative/collective bookstore, vaguely listening to a conversation between one of the collective owners, who knew me pretty well from readings I’d done there, and someone else I’d seen around. They were saying of a third party, not present, “You’d never think she was forty!” At which I said, “Forty? That’s young! I’m way over forty!” The response was, “Wow, you sure don’t write like you’re over forty!”

I don’t remember what I said then, but I do remember what I wish I’d said, which was, “I should hope not! How much can a writer know at only forty?” It would have been an overstatement, and biased, since I didn’t start writing erotica until I was fifty, but there’s something to it, and the writers in Ageless Erotica prove my point.

The Laidback Opening

This week, I have been mostly reading Resistance, by Owen Sheers. But I don't want to talk about that because although it's written beautifully and is about if Germany had invaded Britain during World War II, it's actually bizarrely and mostly about sheep.

No really. I think the author made a mistake. He shouldn't have called it Resistance. He should have called it How Some Ewes Die Under Snow, because that's largely what I remember from the book. Which is not really a bad thing, although I'm probably making it sound bad. It's just not what I want to talk about. I'm tired of sheep, now. They're really daft and sad.

So instead I shall talk about the other book I finished reading this week. It's by this nobody called Jay Kay Rowland or summat, and it's about I dunno some laidback opening or whatever. Goodness knows how he's managed to sell so many copies, when it's about small petty matters in small town England. Is he famous for somethng else?

I bet he was on some reality show, wasn't he. I Bummed My Dog or something like that. Who Can Fart The National Anthem? maybe, or possibly Why Is My Ear Like This? Though in all honesty, I'd probably watch Why Is My Ear Like This? I bet it features people with perfectly normal hearing appendages crying over flaps of skin that are meant to be there.

Sounds marvellous.

But anyway, back to this Jake Ralling and his book about small town life, which I am going to discuss completely irrelevantly of anything he might have done on telly, or without reference to any other books he may or may not have written about boy wizards. In fact, I think it's important to not discuss the boy wizards at all, because many people seemed to get very confused about the fact that none were in this book, even though it very clearly says in the blurb that the presence of such in a deeply real small town rural setting would be absolutely insane.

I kind of wonder if people were hoping Parish Council is actually code for Witch's Coven. And if they were, they are massive fools.

But enough about fools and sudden inexplicable magic in a book that isn't about that. Onto what it very clearly is about: the petty evils that live in most people's hearts, excrutiatingly good character studies expertly crafted with an unflinching eye and a scathing pen, and moving themes about kindness and goodness and how they are what is important rather than being proud of your stupid little town and its trifling affairs.

It's a very good book. A book that hasn't been praised enough for its many, many unbelievable accomplishments, not least of which is this: JK Rowling wrote this after writing one of the most popular book series to ever exist. She wrote fearlessly, sharply, without worrying what people would think of its difference or how much they'd berate her for stupid things like "it has too many swears in it". And for that, I commend her with every power of commendation I have.

You were my heroine before, JK. You are still my heroine now.

Opening Up

posted by Giselle Renarde

A laser canon zapping the school? Maybe? 

When I was in Grade 6, book reports were due every other Friday.  We each had a small "cahier" (workbook) labelled "comptes-rendus" (book reports), and in it we'd write up a blurb about the book--the plot, the characters, whether or not we enjoyed it, that sort of thing.  We also had to draw a picture to illustrate a scene that best caught our imagination.

One Thursday evening, I realized... uh-oh... my compte-rendu is due tomorrow.  Instead of reading a book really fast and writing up a quick report like I'd done a fortnight prior (I read and reviewed a joke book--I kid you not), I decided... hey... there's no way my teacher has read every book in existence, right?  Why don't I make one up?

And that's what I did.  I invented a book.  I made up a title, made up the characters, made up the plot.  Everything.

Luckily, for my first post here at Oh Get a Grip, I don't have to do that.  Not that I would, as an adult.  Let's hope I've learned a little something from past indescretions.  Even if they earned me an A+.  Not that I'm bragging...

The book that is the current apple of my eye is Tristan Taormino's "Opening Up: A Guide to Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships."

It's a real book.  I didn't make it up.  See?


And thank goodness Opening Up is real, because it needs to exist.  I bought the book as a poly-minded person who happens not to lead a very poly life.  If you know me, you know I have one girlfriend (I refer to her as Sweet, online).  Neither of us is really in the market for additions to our couplehood at the moment, but we're not opposed to the idea of sharing our lives with others... in the future... if we wanted to.  It's a not-right-now-but-maybe-someday sort of thing.

Why did I buy a copy of Opening Up?  Well, I've never been a fan of monogamy as a concept.  I don't have a problem with people making an informed decision to be with one person and only one person til death do us part, but I don't feel like people have a good sense of their options.  That's why there's so much cheating in the world--much more than the general population admits to.  I know things.  I was mistress to a married man for ten years of my life.  A lot of people feel trapped in marriage, and don't want to divorce for whatever reason.

It's easy to demonize the unfaithful, but what's the alternative to adultery?  Well, read Tristan's book.  There are plenty of models for open relationship, and she addresses them with knowledge and deft.  I particularly appreciate that she doesn't focus solely on poly for the purpose of sexual variety, but that she broadens the scope and includes platonic models, which I particularly appreciate.

Opening Up is not a book about finding new people to sleep with.  Well, that's part of it, inasmuch as sex part of many relationships, but more than that, it's a book about mindfulness--about being self-aware, being sensitive to partners' emotions, and addressing our own adverse feelings when they pop up.

In fact, one of the main reasons I bought a copy of Opening Up was that I had a suspicion it would address jealousy.  And it does.  There's a whole chapter on jealousy.  Tristan even breaks it down into components:

Jealousy is really an umbrella term for a constellation of feelings including envy, competitiveness, insecurity, inadequacy, possessiveness, fear of abandonment, feeling unloved, and feeling left out. (Opening Up, pg 156)

For me, though I'm not nearly as jealous as I was in my younger years, the green-eyed monster still rears its head in every relationship.  Actually, I've realized that, even in my mid-thirties, I still feel a multitude of child-like jealousy-related emotions with respect to family members (ie. feeling jealous that my mother invited my sister on a vacation, but didn't invite me).  Jealousy and other strong emotions might be more at the surface of open relationships, but they are present, for most people, even beyond romantic relationships. 

Since I started reading Opening Up, I've noticed more mindfulness and recognition of emotions, and I find I'm better at dealing with the feelings in Tristan's jealousy constellation.  For that reason alone, I would recommend Opening Up to anyone.

I would further recommend it because there's so much misunderstanding and lack of respect for the poly mindset.  Even when I was in Grade 6 and faking book reports, it already seemed strange to me that two people could get married, but three or four couldn't.  Maybe I'm somehow predisposed to appreciating open relationships, but for people who want to learn more, Opening Up is an absolute must-read.

Hugs,
Giselle

“Soon I Will be Invincible” : The Undaunted Optimism of the Wicked

" . .  This morning on planet Earth, there are one thousand, six hundred, and eighty-six enhanced, gifted, or otherwise-superpowered persons. Of these, one hundred and twenty-six are civilians leading normal lives. Thirty-eight are kept in research facilities funded by the Department of Defense, or foreign equivalents. Two hundred and twenty- six are aquatic, confined to the oceans. Twenty-nine are strictly localized—powerful trees and genii loci, the Great Sphinx, and the Pyramid of Giza. Twenty-five are microscopic (including the Infinitesimal Seven). Three are dogs; four are cats; one is a bird. Six are made of gas. One is a mobile electrical effect, more of a weather pattern than a person. Seventy-seven are alien visitors. Thirty-eight are missing. Forty-one are off-continuity, permanent émigrés to Earth's alternate realities and branching timestreams.

Six hundred and seventy-eight use their powers to fight crime, while four hundred and forty-one use their powers to commit them. Forty-four are currently confined in Special Containment Facilities for enhanced criminals. Of these last, it is interesting to note that an unusually high proportion have IQs of 300 or more—eighteen to be exact. Including me..

. . . I'm the smartest man in the world. Once I wore a cape in public and fought battles against men who could fly, who had metal skin, who could kill you with their eyes. I fought core fire to a standstill and the super squadron and the Champions. Now I have to shuffle through a cafeteria line with men who try to pass bad checks. Now I have to wonder if there will be chocolate milk in the dispenser and whether the smartest man in the world has done the smartest thing he could with his life.

. . . I'm not a criminal. I didn't steal a car. I didn't sell heroine or steal an old lady's purse. I built a quantum fusion reactor in 1978, and an orbital plasma gun in 1979 and a giant laser-eyed robot in 1984. I tried to conquer the world and almost succeeded 12 times and counting. . . ."

Dr. Impossible  "Soon I Will Be Invincible"

An interesting resume.

There is a line in “the Lady and the Unicorn” when Nixie says “Oh yes, no one has faith like the damned.” Speaking of course of herself. Things like faith and courage have a way of perversely turning up where they should not be. The title of this book says it all. “Soon I Will Be Invincible”. We know without a prompt that this is a super villain speaking, a super hero would not have to wish for such a thing, it would be a given. No other character in genre fiction has eternal optism or hope like a comic book villain. Like Wiley Coyote in the oldRoad Runner cartoons, they always believe that this next scheme, this next invention, is the one that will put them over the top to world domination, and this in a genre in which traditionally there must be a happy ending of which the villain is defeated and the super hero triumphs. The villain wakes up in the morning, sometimes in prison, knowing he lives in a world where he can never win. But it is his faith to go on trying. This gives the bad guys like Dr. Impossible acertain, sisyphysian glory, a dynamic of faith that just winds them up each new day and pushes them past the prison walls knowing this time It Will Surely Succeed. Super heroes of the old school tend to be more smug, sure of their rightness and the purity of their motives. Consequently the villains, the mad scientists, have always been the more interesting to me, the more energetic and inventive as they look for that one special thing.


Modern super heroes and villains have earned a powerful place in our cultural mythology for exactly the opposite reasons they had in ancient times. The ancient mythical heroes were generally born to glory. Modern comic book heroes and villains are born of tragedy. Their super powers, or their obessession with acquiring power are born of the traumas that shaped and empowered them. Nuclear accidents, seeing loved ones killed, sometimes in front of them, injustice committed upon them, what ever makes them want to reshape the world as they find it. Its what draws us to them because of our secret belief that we could have shaped the world better and more justly if only we had been given the right tools. Because our private traumas have shaped and sometimes empowered us, we see ourselves in our creations.

The odd exception to the ancient mythical heroes have been the old Norse Gods, the Aesir. Of all the images of God mankind has concocted the Aesir were unique in that they were mortal. They were capable of making fatal mistakes, of being wounded, of experiencing pain and finally death. It was believed that someday all things would come to an end. This was essentially the only religion which embodied this belief about its gods, that they were not immortal at all. They embodied a kind of brooding pessimism that was a part of the soul of the people who invented them, a fatalistic, zen like absence of hope as Nixie explains to Father Delmar in “The Dying Light”:
 
“These old gods you see, they offer no one hope. They have no hope themselves. Jah, you see this heaven they have, it’s not the heaven of the Jesus and the Blessed Virgin. No. No, Father. These gods, they know they will die and being gods, it makes no difference, they will die. Like us. Even Wodin, he’ll die too. What they want, these old gods, is a good death.”

“Doesn’t sound much like Heaven. No hope? Just a good death?”

“It can be very liberating to have no hope.”

“So what are you telling me, what does all this have to do with you?”

“I’m like a Norn, who cuts the cord of the Fate. I’m a valkyrie.”

Dr. Impossible and those like him have the optimism of Wiley Coyote, the optimisim of the wicked.  No matter how many times the ACME safe or piano on the giant rubber band rebounds and crushes him, he always picks himself up and has a new plan.  The next plan will surely work.  Soon he’ll be invincible.  You have to love that.

The Funeral Pyre of My Reading Habits

by Cari Silverwood

This is my first post on OGG and I’m thinking they may boot me out. You see I haven’t read a full book in quite some time. The best I could say I’d completed would be beta reads on stories by Leia Shaw, Candace Blevins, and Cherise Sinclair.

The rot set in when I first became a published author, about two years ago. I went from someone who read perhaps two books a week to someone who opens a book, begins to read, and then finds herself dissecting the writer’s style, plot and words. Or sometimes I simply become bored for no apparent reason.

I shut the book. Horror of horrors.

Now that’s not to say I’m not in-the-middle-of reading many wonderful books. I’m in the middle of the entire Game of Thrones series – the box set takes pride of place on my book shelf, and on a smaller shelf is another amazing book, Blind God’s Bluff by Richard Byers, and there’s a PNR ( I’m rarely in-the-middle-of reading PNR) by Carrie Vaughan. In my eReader, Alice in Zombieland by Gena Showalter is waiting for me, along with My Liege of Darkhaven and several other whimpering volumes.

They torture me daily.

I hear my neglected books whining at me. I know I should have read them by now.

I’ve been told quite severely that an author needs to read books to feed her/ his muse. Otherwise the muse starves to death. It’s a bit like cannibalism without the crunch of bones and leak of blood. You instead get crushed nouns and eviscerated verbs to swallow. Though the adverbs and adjectives I tend to squish under my heel before they scurry away into my brain. I’m cruel, I know.

Well, I was.

Now I ignore my books as best I can. I think I do feel the lack of new words. When you write a lot of erotic stories certain words seem to become too easy to grab – pussy, cock, and clit, and moans, gasps, and whimpers. I have a feeling that if I don’t cram some non-erotic fantasy or scifi into my brain soon, I’ll be left with nothing but a pile of naked people having an orgy in my head. And I’m sure that isn’t good for me.

Soon I will have another go at girding my loins and reading a whole big fat book.

I marked a stack on my Goodreads profile recently – Beyond Shame and a YA called Partials, and some time back in history, I marked another called The Windup Girl by an author with a name I have to copy and paste, Paolo Bacigalupi. These all look scrumptious. And they might remind me that there are other words in the English tongue apart from penis and writhe, lips, and well, tongue.

There is hope for me yet, as some books do still make me salivate. Just being able to remember the word salivate is a good sign…I think? If the day ever arrives when all that drips from my pen is drool, it will be too late. Well, strictly speaking it will drip from my keyboard but that’s too gross an image even for me. *shudder*

So I’m mixing up a new batch of metaphors, strapping on my caving helmet, getting out a hammer, and a bunch of pitons, and I’m going way down deep into a book. Wish me luck.

To welcome readers back to the new and improved Grip, we're having a contest. Everyone who leaves a comment during the next two weeks (other than Grip members, of course) will be eligible for an ebook prize pack of titles from a bunch of the Grip participants. Comment on multiple days and you'll have more of a chance to win.

So come on by and tell us what you're reading – or comment on what we're reading. (Don't forget to include your email address in your comment.) You might just get some free additions to your TBR list.

If you like, tell me your own sob stories about books you've read. I love tragedy. Dropping a book on your toe doesn't count. Something with blood will do nicely. 

Labor of Love

By Lisabet Sarai

Welcome to the new Oh Get a Grip blog!

Okay, so we're not completely new – consider this an upgrade. We've fiddled with the format a bit, but the most significant change is the fact that we have expanded our roster of contributors, adding some of the smartest and sexiest authors on the planet. That way, we'll be able to offer you entertaining and thought-provoking posts every week day.

Our weekends are reserved for days of rest (or private frolic), or the occasional guest. If you're the sort of person who loves words and ideas, and you'd like to be our guest some Saturday, get in touch with one of us (you'll find our links on the About Us page) and we'll get you on the schedule.

We're sticking with the tried-and-true Grip formula, where each member posts on the same general topic, for a period of two weeks. If you're a new reader, you may be surprised at the variety of interpretations and perspectives that result. The common topic leads to a kind of dialogue that makes the Grip a rather special place.

For the next two weeks, our topic is “What are you reading?”

And what I am reading? As usual, I'm in the middle of several books, including a trashy French spy novel, dripping with sex, called Arnaque à Brunei, by Gerard de Villiers.I picked this up in a used bookstore, not out of intrinsic interest, but because I wanted to awaken my dormant French language capabilities since we'll be vacationing in France next month. In fact, the book's rather entertaining- though the extent to which my once-impressive French has evaporated has me a bit disheartened!

However, the book I want to talk about – rave about, really – is a new collection of erotica edited by Shanna Germain and Janine Ashbless, entitled Geek Love: An Anthology of Full Frontal Nerdity, from Shanna's own publishing company, Stone Box Press (http://www.stoneboxpress.com/). I don't think the book has been released yet. I have an ARC since I am reviewing it for Erotica Revealed. What a treat that is turning out to be!

Iremember when Shanna (one of my absolute favorite erotic authors) put out the call for submissions for this book. A lifelong nerd myself, I was sorely tempted to contribute, but life got in the way. From personal experience, I understand geek-appeal. Most of my lovers have been more than two standard deviations out in the IQ distribution. To me, mental muscle is far more arousing than the physical kind. Furthermore, being a bit of a social outcast has its advantages. Since we know we'll never “fit in” anyway, we geeks feel free to follow the dictates of imagination – including in the bedroom (or the many other locales where we exercise our libido). Despite the stereotypes (inexperienced and clumsy virgins) I've found that nerds tend to have powerful sex drives as well as a prodigious interest in erotic experiments.

So I really get the inspiration behind this book. Shanna and Janine offer a very broad definition of what constitutes a nerd. A fascination with mathematics, mechanics, or electronics – a love of books and the written word – a life focused on gaming, or comics, or creative anachronism – an obsession with science fiction (Trek-inspired or not) – coke-bottle glasses, good grades and interpersonal awkwardness – any or all of these can serve as geek credentials.

These variations on nerdity make Geek Love fabulously diverse, while still providing a general thematic unity. I am only about half way through the book (which includes twenty nine stories, more than two hundred fifty glorious pages), but I've already encountered a future where coffee is forbidden but BDSM can be ordered up in a hundred variations; a robot amanuensis lost in the desert; a secret society where those born to wear fur can play together; a female lab assistant who falls for the automaton her mentor is constructing; a AI librarian determined to seduce the flesh-and-blood woman who inherits her domain; a extra-dimensional civilization dedicated to rescuing gay men from the Nazi concentration camps; gamers and computer programmers, creative dominants and eager submissives, rock stars and rebels – all animated with that special spark of curiosity and intelligence that makes nerds tick.

This isn't intended as a review, so I'm not going to cite specific authors or stories. Suffice it to say that these tales are everything I personally seek in erotic fiction: original, gorgeously crafted, and seriously sexy.

Geek Love is more than just a collection of wonderful stories on a theme that resonates, though. The book is a work of visual as well as literary art. The four-page table of contents uses exquisite black and white photos of naked flesh, female and male, as its background. Scattered among the pages are erotic drawings (both color and monochrome) ranging from the comic to the sublime. (My favorite thus far is a luscious young woman wearing glasses, lying upon the open pages of a gigantic book, obviously pleasuring herself.) The first page of each story is printed on a background image somehow related to the story topic. Subsequent pages use a similar technique to remind the reader of the author and title.

I read most of my erotica in electronic form, mostly for convenience. Geek Love is clearly a book that cries out to be savored in print. I'll probably buy a print copy for myself once the book is released. I'm definitely planning to send it as a gift to a couple of fellow nerds who I know will appreciate it.

So how did this massive, complicated, expensive-to-produce book ever see the light? In a nutshell, the book was a labor of love. The Geek Love project came to fruition via a crowd-funding project on Kickstarter. The book includes four pages (in small print) of donor names. I want to personally thank them all. (I wonder why I didn't hear about the crowd-funding solicitation, since I definitely would have chipped in). Having put together a couple of anthologies myself, I know what it costs just to pay the authors a decent sum. This book also needed funds to pay artists and production designers, as well as to cover the higher printing costs associated with color illustrations. Geek Love is a small miracle, one that renews my faith in the world of publishing.

I'm reading the book slowly, savoring each salacious tale (though I may have to speed up if I want to finish in time for my review next month). I haven't enjoyed an erotic anthology this much is a long time. And I'm looking forward to holding a physical copy in my sweaty little hands.

Winding up this post, I realize that for me, at least, the Grip is also a labor of love. Every time I feel tempted to pass the torch to somebody else, or simply to close the blog down, something stops me. This is the third or fourth time we've reinvented the Grip since I came on board in February 2009. I love it too much to let it go.

I look forward to the posts by the other contributors, their insights and questions. These days one doesn't have that kind of conversation all that often.

Anyway, to welcome readers back to the new and improved Grip, we're having a small contest. Everyone who leaves a comment during the next two weeks (other than Grip members, of course) will be eligible for an ebook prize pack of titles from a bunch of the Grip participants. Comment on multiple days and you'll have more of a chance to win.

So come on by and tell us what you're reading – or comment on what we're reading. (Don't forget to include your email address in your comment.) You might just get some free additions to your TBR list.