Friskbiskit

S.V. Rowle's Pocket Guide to the PayPal Censorship Debacle

Here's a great resource from author S.V. Rowle that compiles a bunch of the posts that have been written about the PayPal censorship issue. Check it out.

Word Candy Wednesday

 

 

Now,

he’d better make his move

before Eben woke up

and the surprise was ruined.

He crept over to Eben’s sleeping form and

unzipped the man’s

fly.

What is this from?

 

Contest: Stop Censorship, Win a Book

Update 6: I have a new post up about PayPal's response to the response to their actions and Visa's stand on the matter. The ACLU of California has an open letter to PayPal that you can sign, and I'm expanding the contest to include that letter and direct letters to PayPal (provided you haven't already won.) So if you haven't yet, speak up, and don't forget to leave a post here when you do. 

Update 5: Our third winner, Vicki, has already read all of my books (I love her), so she's graciously stepping aside and letting one of the others in her group of five win. I'll announce who in the comments in just a moment.

The PayPal Censorship story continues to get wider coverage. It's now been written about on the Independent and on MSNBC's tech blog. You can find links to these stories and more, as well as an open letter to Visa, on the Banned Writers site.

Update 4: We gained some important allies today. The American Bookseller's Foundation for Free Expression (ABFFE) and the National Coalition Against Censorship (NCAC) wrote a letter to PayPal protesting their policy. Go read it. It will make you cheer.

And if you haven't checked out Banned Writers yet, do so. Lots of good stuff going on in the comments thread there. For example, a call from Eden Connor for guest bloggers and for contributors to an edgy erotica anthology. 

And here's another reason to cheer: we have our fourth winner today! Thank you everyone who has signed the petition, helped spread the word and kept this ball rolling!

Update 3: Wow! I was offline all day today, catching up with work and when I got back I saw a bunch of new comments in the queue. A new winner has been announced and we are well on our way to the next giveaway! You guys are amazing. { }

In other news, I want to direct your attention to this interesting post by Erica Pike, which casts doubt on whether the credit card companies are involved in this at all. It may be all PayPal, in which case, I think we're in better shape, since they are easier to replace with an alternate service.

Got to go back to proofreading now. See you later, babes!

Update 2: Our second winner has been announced! Thank you everyone for speaking up. I <3 you! I have a couple more comments awaiting approval, and if you haven't signed yet, or if you already did and haven't commented here yet, there's still more chances to win. :)

 

Update: Our first winner has been announced! See comments for details. When another five sign the petition and leave a comment here, I'll give away another book. Big hugs to everyone who's participated so far. You are awesome!

Okay, so you know I'm up in arms over this PayPal censorship thing, and I think you should be too. This is a financial institution dictating allowable content in fiction, and it doesn't matter if you read, write, or approve of the content in question, as a reader and a free-thinking person, you don't want to let that happen.

You may have heard that there's a petition. Here it is.

I encourage you to sign it. In fact, I think it is so important for people to speak up on this matter, that I'm going to run a contest for the next week, and maybe longer depending on how things play out. If you sign the petition and leave a comment here stating that you've done so, you will be entered to win a free copy of one of my books, your choice. Every time I get five signatures, I'll do a random selection and one of those five will win. 

Please make your voice heard. This affects all of us. 

Man Candy Monday

Ganked from Love is Love.

PayPal is Watching You

I'm reading a lot of posts today about PayPal and their (so far) mostly successful efforts to censor certain themes in erotica.

You don't need me to tell you that if it's incest, bestiality, and rape today, it will be something else tomorrow, and that if it can happen in erotica then it can happen in erotic romance any second now. This is how it works. The first to be targeted are the most vulnerable. And since incest, rape, and bestiality are all things which, if you're into them you may not want to be identified as being into them, they are easy targets.

So if you haven't yet, please sign the petition voicing your opposition to PayPal, Visa, and Mastercard's policies. And here's a post from J.S. Wayne with some other suggestions for actions you can take, including email addresses for Paypal so you can contact them directly. 

Remittance Girl has a great post here and one of the points she makes, that I'd like to reiterate, is that erotica is written and read predominately by women. So what is really happening here is, once again, the suppression of women's sexual imaginations. When you take into consideration how saturated our culture is with hetero male sexual imaginings, it becomes painfully clear that part of what it means to be a woman in our culture is to be denied your own sexual agency. Our sexuality is only acceptable when mediated by a male viewpoint.

Maybe that's why a book like The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which has two rapes in it, is okay, but an indy-published eroticized rape fantasy authored by a woman is a threat to public decency.

What's most maddening of all about this is that everything we are talking about is fiction. You know, NOT REAL. It exists only in our minds. But a lot of people seem to have a really hard time with that distinction. No matter how many studies prove otherwise, they believe that there is a direct correlation between what a person fantasizes about and what they want to have happen in real life.

I've been yelling that this is not so for years. I've pointed it out the many times women came under attack for writing m/m, and I'll point it out again now. Fiction is a funhouse mirror that allows us the distance and safety we need to explore feelings our culture does not permit us to safely experience in other ways. Reading about violence can offer catharsis for intense emotional pain. A rape fantasy can be about being absolved of responsibility for having sex. Those elements and any others function for different readers in different ways and that is just one of the reasons why freedom of expression is vital for a thriving literature. 

The deep irony of all of this is that in claiming to "protect" us from obscenity, what censorship really does is deny us the safest outlet for exploration we could have.

I'm grateful that my publisher, Loose Id, has had the foresight not to do business through PayPal. I do have three of my freebie ficlets up on Smashwords, and one of them is The Cats Will Play, a Stan and Gus story wherein Billy Pipps engages in some interspecies bondage sex play. I'm pretty sure that getting tied up and having his dick licked by cats with psychic mind-control powers is not what Coker or the authors of the Paypal policy have in mind when they say bestiality, but it is sex with animals, and they're not shape shifters so there's no ducking out that way. I guess the only place it will be available now is right here.

The Romance Reviews Celebrates with Prizes and More

Including a free copy of Dharma Café! Oh yeah, and there's something about a $100 gift card too...

Find out more here.

 

Guest Post: Belinda McBride Takes Friskbiskit to School

Please welcome award-winning author Belinda McBride, who's here today with an insightful post about the art and craft of writing. And please don't miss the excerpt from her recent release, When I Fall, at the bottom of the post.

Writing Right: When Craft Becomes Art

In college, I was initially an English major before switching to history. In my Sophmore poetry class, the professor was an elderly scholar, and to the horror of many students, he insisted that we learn and adhere to classical forms. While we were itching to break loose and write rambling, stream of consciousness masterpieces, he insisted we limit ourselves to the form of the week. I learned rondeaus, triolets, ballad forms, and the dreaded sonnets. At one point, I wrote a lovely triolet titled “Lady of Shalott.” Unfortunately, it was graded down for my grammar.

“But it works!” I argued.

“Yet it’s incorrect,” The professor replied.

In the end, the professor won. I changed the grammar and reluctantly accepted my A- for the week.

At the end of the semester, our best work went to press for the class anthology. And there was my poem, written the way I’d initially composed it. When I asked the prof about if he’d made a mistake, this is what he said:

“You must know the rules before you can break the rules. You were right; the original version works best. But now you know why it works.”

On occasion, I run across the debate about whether an author is an artist or a technician. There seems to be a division…either an author is a wonderful storyteller or a sound technical writer, but rarely both. 

Here’s the thing…as an author, our craft is writing. Just because I can visualize a wonderful image doesn’t mean I have the training to be a painter. The same applies to writing. Yes, it takes talent and artistry to write a story, but more than that, it takes discipline and skill…which are both traits we can learn. 

When we write, we are manipulating words to serve various purposes. We are creating images, developing characters and playing with the emotions of the reader. And yes, much of this can be done via your innate gift with storytelling. However, as writers we have a toolbox. The major tool we use is our knowledge of language. I’m not saying you have to be perfect. After many years in college, I never mastered my commas! What I’m saying is that every writer should understand basic grammar, punctuation and composition. You should continually expand your vocabulary and also learn to cut what doesn’t work. Some of what we love best simply doesn’t work.

Further, learn about the elements of writing within your genre. I write romance. Sometimes its erotic, sometimes its LGBTQ. But it is still romance and I’m bound to the conventions of that genre. That doesn’t mean I won’t push the limits and write out of the box on occasion, but I still know the rules. 

Proper composition doesn’t mean boring writing. In narrative, you can play with meter and rhythm and alliteration. In dialog, your characters can certainly reflect reality and their distinct personalities. So go ahead…have fun. Just take the time to learn the rules…then you can go stomp on them!

Awesome advice, Belinda!

And here's an excerpt from When I Fall:

Blurb:

Sometimes revenge is a kinder fate than justice. – Helios Dayspring

As king, Helios Dayspring is desperate to secure the future of his people and their new homeworld. His memories are slowly returning, bringing with them danger and betrayal. 

As the king’s consort, Griffin Hawke wrestles with growing isolation from his lover. As Helios’ secrets begin to come to light, he finds that he barely recognizes his lover anymore. Griffin is also haunted by his own secrets, as nightmares bring torture and death to his sleep. 

When Helios and Griffin undertake a dangerous journey on behalf of their people, everything they fought for could be lost. Surrounded by enemies and allies, seductive aliens and dangerous operatives, Helios and Griffin find themselves tested to their physical and moral limits. Not knowing who to trust, they can only turn to each other. 

Will you be there to catch me when I fall?

Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/When-I-Fall.aspx

Excerpt:

Still on my knees, I pulled out and turned away, angry and afraid at my reaction. Helios did not move from where I left him. I rolled wearily to the soft pillows, my back to him. As my straining heart began to slow, the final rays of sunset slipped way, anchoring us in darkness.

“The dreams started about a month ago. One of the kilij forms…it played over and over in my mind. In my dream, the form translated to words. Poetry. Verses that I am forbidden to say out loud.” He stirred, and I sensed that he was cleaning himself. “From the time I was a child, there was no question of my ever inheriting. Nor would Deirdre…or Markus.”

I knew the traditions of inheritance within the royal family. While the crown didn’t necessarily go to the oldest child, it stayed in the immediate family. Alexander was Helios’s firstborn, but if he felt it was necessary, he could name Deirdre his heir -- or even one of my daughters once he formally adopted them. He and Markus had been distant spares in the game of king making. Only catastrophe could have landed one of them on the throne.

“Though I would never become king, I was trained for royal service. As a tiny child, I learned my first kilij form. That was my induction into the temple.”

“So even when we were in the army together, you knew? You knew they’d call you back to serve the temple?” I could hear the harsh pain in my voice. That wasn’t the question that burned inside me. Helios knew what I was really asking.

“It is the way of our culture for young soldiers to take lovers from within the ranks. We fight bravely when we fight to impress our lover.” He paused, and I could imagine the gentle smile on his face. “But we both knew when we came to adulthood, we’d be expected to end our relationship and marry. That was our duty. Both the king and the temple expected me to marry strategically.”

“Your wife ran from you because it was discovered she was spying on us. In reality…”

“My marriage to Cloris was politics. Not espionage. I did not take advantage of her. You are correct; I was a handler. I had a string of operatives who reported to me. Ironically I was chosen for that role because of my memory. Handlers must remember everything and leave no evidence. The war shattered those networks, and my enslavement left many men and women cut off from our people. They are so anonymous that even with our coded records, we are only beginning to resume contact with some of them.”

He rolled to his side and looked at me soberly. “What I am learning frightens and humbles me, Griffin.”

I sat up and shook my head. “The temple schools… We always laughed at them because the failure rate was so astronomical. Students left the school, joking about the priests and novices. They went back to their lives…”

“And then some vanished. They went to Talis as traders. Some went to space, taking jobs on other planets. They became merchants and craftsmen. They never stayed.”

“Oh shit.” I dropped my head to my hands. “The dropouts…they were your corps of operatives.” The memory of a significant number of temple dropouts seared my mind.

“I am not at liberty to reveal their identities, Griffin, but you are now a general, and as such, are part of the governing structure. The information the temple harvests is shared with the army and the royal advisors.”

“Not the council?”

He hesitated. “No. Not the council. That is no longer their role.”

At some point in the past year, the council had lost their king’s trust. He was actively keeping intelligence from them. What else was Helios keeping from me?

Overwhelmed, I flopped back to the cushions. With my arms crossed behind my head, I looked up into the sky and saw the first stars of the evening flaring to life. Night birds began to sing, and the perfume of flowers tickled my nose. It lacked the lush gardens and forests of Arash, but Neo Domus had magic of its own. In the distance, I heard thunder roll across the sky. The mountains would have rain tonight. In the winter, snow would frost those peaks, perhaps even reach down to our city. The planet was rough, young, and dangerous. I wondered if our skies would remain safe. I rested an arm over my eyes, blocking not only the sky from my view, but my lover as well. My mind raced, one thought skittering off another, until I dropped my arm and once again looked up at the sky.

Helios rose and straddled my hips. His hair trailed down either side of his body, and as he moved, it brushed my skin. He leaned forward and framed my face with his hands.

“Oh, my beautiful man.” His voice was a heartbroken sigh in the night air.

Normally I’d have laughed that off. Tonight, the mood was too heavy. Helios studied my face while brushing his hands into my hair. They were hard and calloused now, so different from the soft delicacy they’d had just a year ago. He loved me; it was there in his expressive eyes, mingling with the growing knowledge that all was not well between the two of us. I’d always loved Helios, even when we butted heads and jockeyed for dominance. But I’d fallen in love with the man who’d been Pasha, the slave and whore. Now it seemed yet another version of Helios was emerging. It was a version of the man I’d forced him to become when I brought him home.

Helios tilted his head and feathered his lips over mine. He nuzzled gently, then explored the planes of my cheek, kissing along the seam of the scar that snaked out from under my eye patch. His kisses were chaste, and his love was healing. The tight hold of anger slipped away, and I reached up and pulled him down to lie atop my body.

He slid down and rested his head over my heart. We lay under Neo Domus’s golden moons, clothed only in warm breezes and the silk of his hair. 

Mmm. "Clothed only in warm breezes and the silk of his hair." That's lovely Belinda. Thank you so much for visiting!

Belinda McBride lives in far northern California with her family and an unruly pack of Siberian Huskies. You can find out more about her writing by visiting her website:
http://www.belindamcbride.com 
Or her blog:
http://www.belindam.blogspot.com

 

Word Candy Wednesday

 

“I can’t tell if

you’re the best thing

that’s ever happened to me,

or the worst.”

What is this from?

 

Man Candy Monday Loves Franco

Anyone know what movie this is from?

 

Ganked from Love is Love.

Dinner Rush: A Dharma Cafe Newsletter Freebie

I have a new freebie short story up on the newsletter group. It's a little concoction called Dinner Rush and it's about one very special night at the Dharma Café. Longtime readers will recognize quite a few familiar faces in the mix.  Check it out here.

If you're not yet a newsletter member but you'd like to be, joining is quick, safe, and easy.

 

Word Candy Wednesday

 

The

cannoli

drew him toward its

creamy lusciousness

with a slow, sweet power, 

 like a riptide

in a sea of molasses.

 

 

What is this from?

Guest Post: Tara Lain Starts a Fire!

It's Valentines Day and I've got a special treat in store. Please join me in welcoming the best-selling, award-winning Tara Lain back to the Biskit! It's always a delight to have Tara visit, she brings such magnificent friends with her. Today she'll be talking about her new bestseller, Fire Balls, and sharing some three-alarm hotties with us while she's at it.

Take it away Tara!

Hi Jessica and all my friends at Friskbiskit. Happy Valentine’s Day! It is so good to be back here.

I gotta tell you I have learned a lot since I saw you last and one thing I know for sure is that women LOVE firefighters. I asked my readers to complete the sentence “I am looking forward to the release of Tara Lain’s new book, Fire Balls, because…”And what were their answers? My grand prose?  Nope. Nine out of ten said hot firefighters!

What is it do you think? The fact that they have to be so physically fit for the job? The idea that they are risking their lives somehow for us (think Last of the Mohicans, “Just stay alive. I will find you!”)? The fact that they all group together in one big homoerotic bundle?

Well, in honor of Valentine’s Day I have supplied some pictures of firefighters for Jessica to scatter through this post as she sees fit. The pictures have no significance beyond sheer yumminess. Enjoy while I tell you about my new release, Fire Balls. 

In Fire Balls, Rodney, a tiny, flamboyant artist who happens to also be a black belt in karate, has a passion for a hunky firefighter. But you know I love the unexpected, so my firefighter, Hunter, is not the stereotype. He loves to read poetry and secretly yearns to be a teacher. But he’s plenty alpha enough for Rod. Problem is, Rod thinks Hunter could never want him so, when his friend Jerry develops an unexpected crush on the fire guy, Rod helps Jerry woo him--while breaking his own heart. None of these pictures are quite as gorgeous as Hunter but still mighty pretty. Enjoy!

Would you like to win a copy of Fire Balls? Enter my contest. I’m having a drawing this coming Friday. Leave a comment here with your email and you’ll be entered in that drawing. Go over to my Contest Blog and leave another comment with your email and you will be entered Again. And there are more chances to Win. Go to my Web Site and look under events. It’s all there.  First leave your comment here. And don’t forget your email.  And thank you to Jessica for hosting me and to you for coming to say hi.  :  )

Excerpt: Fire Balls by Tara Lain  -- MM Contemporary

Available from Etopia Press at: Amazon 

Rodney Mansfield is tiny, flamboyant and, oh yeah, a black belt in karate. He is also one of southern California’s greatest artists. Too bad the work of art he really wants is firefighter, Hunter Fallon. But the gorgeous “straight gay” guy could never want the Runtback of Notre Dame, so when Rodney’s handsome, surfer friend, Jerry, develops an unexpected passion for the beautiful firefighter, Rodney breaks his own heart by helping Jerry land his man. And then Rod makes it worse by embarrassing Hunter when he protects him from a firehouse bully. Hunter hates gay guys like Rodney – doesn’t he? Then why can’t he get the powerful pipsqueak’s face out of his mind… and cock out of his ass? And why does he risk his job and his life to rescue Rod from a burning building? Isn’t it time for him to admit he’s not an alpha male after all and that he is the property of the artist?

 

“So what the hell is a poet doing in the fire department?”

“There’s a lot of poetry in fire.”

“Sure, darling, if you’re staring at a fireplace with a glass of wine!”

Hunter laughed, which seemed to drain a little of the tension. “I became a firefighter for my dad. Kind of living his dream because he wasn’t able to. He’s confined to a wheelchair.”

Interesting. “That’s great for him, but what’s your dream?”

“Making him happy, I guess. Not disappointing him.”

The boy was cracked. Rod put his hands on his hips. “Shit, darling, you can’t live someone else’s dream.”

The words hung in the air. 

“I’ve got to try.” Hunter’s words were barely audible.

Rodney dropped his brush in the turp. Somebody had to get through to the man. He took a step forward. “Tell me what you would do if you didn’t have to think about anyone but yourself.”

Hunter shook his head slowly.

He took another step. “Tell me, dammit.” 

The blue eyes looked startled. “I’d teach. I’d teach literature, maybe in college.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Doesn’t change anything.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. Declaration is a big step in the battle. If you can say it out loud, you can manifest it.” He took another step. “Do you know what my father wanted me to be?”

“What?”

“A lawyer. A fucking lawyer, probably so I could keep the bastard out of jail when he cheated his customers. He wanted to pay for me to go to fucking Stanford Law.”

“Wow. You turned him down?”

“Do I look like a lawyer to you?” He struck his favorite pose à la Marilyn Monroe. “I worked my ass off to put myself through art school. I waited tables and painted pictures of people’s pets to make extra money. I even appeared in a drag show one time.” 

“No shit?”

“You should hear me sing 'Let Me Entertain You.' But my point is, it’s your life and you have to live it. You probably don’t get another chance and even if you do, you won’t be conscious of it, so this is it, darling. Get on with it.”

“Yeah, but my dad is different.”

“I’m sure he is, and I’m happy for you.” He moved closer. “And you know what my father mostly wanted me to be?”

“What? I mean you’re a great artist, he must have seen that and wanted that.”

“No, you know what he wanted me to be so much he would have given every dime he had to make it so?”

Hunter shook his head, eyes wide.

“He wanted me to be not gay.”

Hunter stared. “My dad too.”

Shit. Rod was now at the platform’s edge. “So that’s it. You make up to your dad for being gay by putting on this damned hero fireman act when you want to read your books in the sunshine and teach a few kids about immortality. Right?”

Hunter shook his head.

“I said right?” Rod was beside Hunter now. Within reach. “Say I’m right.” He climbed up the platform’s step. “Your dad doesn’t want you to be gay, so you don’t want to be gay. But there’s not one fucking thing you can do about it so you compromise the whole rest of your life trying to make up for the way God made you. Say I’m right.”

Hunter dropped down onto one elbow. “You’re right.”

“Louder. I can’t hear you.”

“You’re right, dammit.” 

His knee hit the daybed and in a fast two count his body pressed down onto Hunter’s, his hands grabbing the other man’s head. Holy shit, what was he doing? Mouth to mouth got a whole new meaning. Jesus, he was starving and Hunter Fallon was the only food. 

Forcing Hunter’s lips open, Rod’s tongue pressed deep, deeper, and he licked the inside of the sweetest mouth he had ever known. Hunter’s tense body gradually relaxed against Rod’s, then began to writhe. Oh shit, Hunter’s hips pressed hard against Rodney, who couldn’t miss the steel of that hot cock. 

 

More About Tara:

Tara Lain never met a beautiful boy she didn’t love – at least on paper. A writer of erotic romance, mostly ménage and male/male, Tara loves all her characters, but especially her handsome heroes. A lifelong writer of serious non-fiction, Tara only fell in love with EROM in 2009 and, through perseverance and lots of workshops, had the first novel she ever wrote published in January of 2011. Then she capped off the year by being voted Best Author of 2011 in the LRC Awards and had her Genetic Attraction Series named runner-up for Best Series of 2011! A very good year. After an exotic life of travel all over the world and work in television, education and advertising, Tara settled in Southern California with her soul-mate husband and opened her own small marketing business. She paints, collages, and started practicing yoga “way before it was fashionable”. Passionate about diversity, justice, inclusion and new ideas, she says on her tombstone it will read, “Yes”.

E-mail:                   tara@taralain.com

Website:              http://www.taralain.com

Author blog:       http://taralain.blogspot.com

Book blog:           http://beautifulboysbooks.blogspot.com

Goodreads:        http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541791.Tara_Lain

Savvy Authors:  http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/member.php?2398-Tara-Lain

Twitter:               http://twitter.com/taralain

Facebook:           http://www.facebook.com/people/Tara-Lain/100001514105686

FB Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Lain/205042046209804

 

Man Candy Monday: Happy Valentines Day!

Ganked from Love is Love.

Word Candy Wednesday

 

Her eyebrows drew together

like two enforcers

discussing a job.

What is this from?

 

Trans Candy Monday

Let's hear it for Tilda!

ganked from Dorothy Surrenders.