As both a sex educator and a fiction author, I walk in two worlds.  Granted there’s a decent overlap, but it’s sometimes been hard for me to figure out how to be 100% authentic without alienating fans of either of my careers.

Where these two passions come to an elegant union, however, is storytelling. I don’t mean spinning a yarn though, I mean true, honest, storytelling.

For most of my childhood I was either considered a weirdo or a confidante because I was gifted with very little shame.  I say gifted because my parents raised me to love and respect myself, I was born into a culture that didn’t revile or resent my presence or my body (blond, white girls have that going for us, though there are certainly ways in which our bodies are mistreated) and I just had some innate sense of joy and curiosity about sexuality from as far back as I can remember. This combination allowed me to be the one my peers– and sometimes elders– went to for sex advice or information. It wasn’t until I was an adult navigating the real world that I realized what a supreme gift this was. That my ease with information wasn’t just about explaining the parts of anatomy. Rather it was about offering permission: permission to feel pleasure, to seek out sex, to have frank conversations, to not know certain things, to be curious to try taboo things, to just give a certain credence to this huge, benighted part of the human experience.

In my sex ed workshops, I offer information, but a huge part of what I do is letting folks know they’re “normal” for wanting certain sensation, connection, or communication. My agenda has changed from just offering advice or information, to offering permission. After all, in this noble Google Age, information is cheap, good information is slightly more pricey, but permission to seek, find, and utilize that information? Priceless.

In my storytelling I strive to offer this permission, but I add a layer of personal transparency.  I’ve been honored to tell on the stage of Bawdy Storytelling many times. The experience was liberating for me from the beginning, but it became a blessing when I realized how many people are touched by this incredible show.  More than just a storytelling event, Bawdy Storytelling is an opportunity for people to share true sex stories from their lives. And in the telling, audience members learn that they themselves are not weird, are not wrong, are not bad people. We undo a little bit of the shame that has cordoned us off from ourselves. This is permission-giving on a large (often very fun) scale.

The new release from Cleis Press, Wild Girls, Wild Nights, seeks to do the same. It collects true stories of lesbian sex in a sexy, smart anthology.  And, since it’s a book, it allows people to engage with the stories from the privacy of their own homes.

The book is smart, hot, and sometimes very silly. If it should come as a surprise, my story is one of the silly ones. The event told in the story, Foxy and the Ridiculous Lesbian Orgy, came from one of the Bawdy Storytelling calls for stories.  I knew I wanted to tell, but didn’t have anything to talk about. So I took matters into my own hands. . .

Check out the excerpt below, or head on over to Amazon and get your own copy right now!

Foxy and the Ridiculous Lesbian Orgy

by Allison Moon

from Wild Girls, Wild Nights

Whoever finds the fox, gets to fuck the fox.  These are the words written on the dry erase board of my living room. There are twenty-five half-naked women in my apartment, it is almost two a.m., and the fox hunt is about to begin.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When a friend needed an extra “girl on girl” story for her live storytelling event, I volunteered immediately. I’d been fucking girls long enough, so I knew there had to be a story in my past somewhere.  But a week later, I was wracking my brain for a good story and coming up empty.  Well, there was that time when we ran into Baptists while skinny dipping, but it wasn’t very sexy.  Then there was that epic Scrabble game, but no. I did remember a great story involving my ex and a gnarly yeast infection, but if I told that story on stage I would never get laid again.

I think the problem I was having is that cock is always funny, all the time, but I take pussy very, very seriously.

I had no story to tell, but the fliers had gone out, and time was short. I had no choice.  For the sake of science– nay, for the sake of art, I had to take matters into my own hands. I had to throw a Ridiculous Lesbian Orgy.

Buy Now

 

Check out the rest of the stops on the Wild Girls, Wild Nights blog tour:

Angel Propps: The Daddy I Didn’t Know I Needed

http://sacchi-green@gmail.com

Destiny Moon: The Corruption of the Innocent Pornographer

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Danielle Mignon: Are You My Mommy?

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Charlotte Dare: Higher Learning

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Dawn Mueller: Cockadoodledoo

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Lynette Mae:  Risking It All

http://lynettemaeauthor.wordpress.com/

Cheyenne Blue: Nurse Joan

www.cheyenneblue.com

Catherine Paulssen: Delinquents

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

M. Marie: Auto-Complete

http://www.mmarie.ca/

Giselle Renarde: Ring of Roses

http://donutsdesires.blogspot.ca/2013/06/wild-nights-in-niagara-and-chance-to-win.html

Mia Savage: Kat’s House

www.miasavagebooks.wordpress.com

Dawn McKay: Hot Desert Nights

http://dawnmckay.wordpress.com/

Allison Moon: Foxy and the Ridiculous Lesbian Orgy

http://www.talesofthepack.com/blog/

Allison Wonderland: Guise and Dolls

http://aisforallison.blogspot.com

Anna Watson: Tamago

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Evan Mora: Insatiable Travel Itch

http://sacchi-green@gmail.com

June 19 Catherine Henreid: Odds

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20 H.M. Husley: Threesome

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 21 Jasmine Grimstead: Lost Batteries

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 22 Monica E. Moreno: Polvo de Hadas

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Last year, I posted a sarcastic-as-hell blog post How to Write Bad Reviews. But I realize that people might actually be interested in how to be better armchair art critics. In an effort to replace snark with substance, I’d like to offer amateur reviewers some tips for writing useful and insightful reviews of books, film, and art.

Start from a Place of Love:  Roger Ebert loved movies. How could he not? He spent much of his life in a dark room watching them.  He watched it all: the high art, the camp, the b-movie, and the splattercore, the interminable, and the sublime. He went in genuinely hoping the filmmakers succeeded. Who the hell wants to spend 4 to 6 hours a day expecting the worst and getting it handed to them? You read/view/engage with art because you love it, right? Because you believe in the transformative power of books/performance/art, right? If not, why the hell are you spending so much time analyzing it?

Examine Your Expectations: When I was a senior in high school, Star Wars Episode 1 came out. Many, many people (my boyfriend included) camped out for days to be at the first screening. Do I really need to tell you how that turned out? There’s another way to look at this.  My brother-in-law always says “Review the movie they made, not the movie you wished they had.”

If you find yourself saying “I wish the author/director/choreographer did ____ instead” a lot, you probably went in with too many preconceived notions.  I get this response all the time with my first novel, Lunatic Fringe. People see it’s about lesbian werewolves and they assume a lot about what the book will entail. Many of the negative reviews I get are from readers who wanted me to write a different novel. Whether it was too sexy or not sexy enough, or too political or not political enough is a matter of taste. But that’s not the point of a review. Review the art the artist made, not the art you wished they had.

Try to Discern the Artist’s Intention: A good critique attempts to communicate how well an artist achieves their goals as perceived by the critic. (Again, it’s not the goal you wished they had).  Using this metric, I might, for example, consider that George Lucas wanted Episode 1 to be a family-friendly introduction to the Star Wars canon, so that he might engage a whole new generation of fans, while offering their parents a bit of nostalgia.  If this were my only metric (it’s not, btw) I might be able to write a useful review about popular media that spans generations.  If I think George Lucas’s intention was to make a worthy prequel that offers nuanced and unique backstories for internationally-beloved characters, (I don’t, btw) my review is going to look a lot different.

Consider the Audience: Imagine reading a review of a horror film where the critic only ranted about how filthy and depraved horror films are. If you feel compelled to start a review with “I never read (blank) kind of books” tread carefully. Likewise, don’t review something of a specific genre just to trash the genre tropes. If you think Romance is cheesy and predictable, consider as to whether your opinion really gives potential readers anything of worth. Of course, you should be willing to engage with art for which you’re not the target audience. But don’t forget that the book/film/work wasn’t necessarily created specifically for you.

Give the Creator(s) the Benefit of the Doubt: I used to think that particularly salient symbols or stunning camera angles were a product of dumb luck or an overzealous reading by academics.  I blame my seventh grade English teacher for making us highlight every use of the words “blue” or “red” in A Tale of Two Cities.  It took me writing my own novels to realize that most of those details and beautiful moments are deliberate choices. Kubrick didn’t just happen upon eerie symmetries. He plotted that shit out.  Even if the amaze-balls moments are accidents (or only become symbolic after a context shift the creator couldn’t have foreseen), your experience of the work and resulting analysis will only be made better by assuming the creator was mindful of the construction.

Don’t Write Snark for Snark’s Sake:  Snark is lazy humor.  It’s armchair criticism that has the sole purpose of making the snarker feel clever.  Often folks include snark just because it makes for a fun pun or quasi-witticism. This kind of thing was popularized by icons like Oscar Wilde and Dorothy Parker. The reason we know these people for this reason is because snark is not about the art or the artist. It’s only ever been about the snark speaker/writer making a statement about themselves. If you want to make a name for yourself as a quippy bastard, snark away. If you want to be known for insightful critiques of art, ditch the snark and stick with the true.

Nitpicking is Tedious for Everyone: There will always be errors or oversights or typos. Is it really worth mentioning? Maybe, if the work is sloppy enough that you can’t have a fulfilling experience. But before you start nitpicking consider the degree to which the errors make a difference in the overall experience.

You’re Not the Arbiter of Taste:  Art is wonderful because it’s so subjective. I hate some authors that critics seems to love. I love some stuff other folks think is bullshit. That doesn’t mean I’m smarter or stupider than you. It doesn’t mean anyone has the Correct Opinion.

You’re Not the Smartest Person in the World: Sure, maybe you’re smarter than the artist. Maybe you appreciate Artificial Intelligence on a much deeper level than Speilberg.  Okay, fine. I promise, nothing is more tedious than a critic grandstanding about what a better piece of art they would make, if only they had.  The fact is, Speilberg churns out films, and most critics will never pick up a camera. Don’t pretend you’d be a better artist if you’re not actually producing art.

At the end of the day, criticism is about adding value. At their most essential, critics help people figure out what stuff to spend their time and money on. That’s a great service to provide. Moreover, great critics are revered for adding insight to the works of art. They can add new dimensions to works that others have taken for granted. They can revisit a work generations later and use a contemporary context to reexamine the work anew.  This is where criticism at its most beautiful.  They keep art alive, keep people engaging with it, and keep asking questions of it.

This book will have a large cast of characters on the girlqueer-to-genderqueer spectrum and I want to know what kinds of girls you don’t think get enough representation in sexy books.

Do you want to read more about FilAm fat femmes? Skinny AfroCuban butches? Deaf femme-faggots? What kinds of fabulous folks do you want to see more of?  Let me know in the comments!  In the meantime, stay tuned for some contests and news about this exciting project!

~Allison

For a while, I didn’t know how to answer their questions. So I just shrugged and said, “He found me” which is a true answer, but not a very satisfying one. But I know the answer. And it’s the same answer as why I chose to self-publish.

I attracted a great partner in the same way I’m attracting readers: by just doing my thing. Does that sound flippant? Disrespectful of struggle? Here’s what I mean: When my partner found me, I was at work, on a break, writing a play. I was sitting by myself, completely content, with coffee, sunshine, wearing a comfortable pair of jeans, doing my own thing. I didn’t notice he was there. I didn’t really notice anyone around me. I’m sure he liked the look of me, but when he approached me to talk, I just talked to him. At the time I identified as a lesbian and had zero interest in flirting with men. So instead of running any sort of game, we had an awesome conversation about the gender politics of prevention. He may have been flirting but I didn’t notice. I didn’t flirt back, I just spoke. He listened. Then I went back to work, until we decided to sit together and talk more.  And we did. It was great. We had a lot in common. We disagreed in jovial ways. We treated each other like human beings.  And the rest is 6 years of history.

When I wrote my first novel, Lunatic Fringe, I was thinking about self-publishing, but I wasn’t sold on it yet. I did plenty of research and asked a lot of questions of my peers. But still, not sure.  Then I went into the submission process– the often-bemoaned series of queries and rejections. What I hated about this wasn’t that I was getting a lot of rejection. Instead, I resented the fact that I was having to ask for permission to do my thing, that somehow Lunatic Fringe wouldn’t even be allowed to exist in the world without a Publisher Charming sweeping it off its feet. The submission process felt like standing a singles mixer with a sign on my chest saying LIKE ME PLEASE!!!  I don’t get to talk to anyone, I can merely approach them, wait for them to notice me, hope they like the look of me, and then start talking.

That’s just not my style.

Most people like feeling chosen. There’s nothing wrong with that. Some people, however, need it. The publishing industry– until recently– taught authors that we needed to be chosen.  Kind of like dating before feminism, wouldn’t you say?

The problem with needing to feel chosen is that when you’re not chosen, you feel miserable. Undesirable. Unloveable. Undeserving. To one who is taught we need to be chosen to have value, when a potential date says “No thanks,” it’s impossible to hear it as anything other than “I’m not worthy.”

When a publisher/agent/editor says “Sorry, your book is not what we’re looking for right now,” the writer who needs to feel chosen can only take this the same way:  “I suck.”

I self-publish because I’m not interested in waiting to be chosen, just like I’m not going to stand around with a sign around my neck saying “date me!”  Would I be interested in a publisher taking an interest in me?  Sure, but it’d have to be the right fit. It’d have to be someone who was attracted to me because I was doing my thing, not because I was waiting for permission to be myself.

In the meantime, I’d rather being writing and finding readers. If I’m ever chosen, I’d like it to happen while I’m knee deep in my own thing, not because I sent the right email at the right time to the right agent who was in the right mood. I’d rather be developing my craft, getting feedback from sharp minds, finding community, putting myself out there and flailing, finding joy in small successes, and, above all, continuing to write books I like and sharing them with the world because it makes me happy.

The best advice I can offer to those women who just don’t get how I could land such a dreamboat is the same I offer nascent authors:  Do the things that make you happy because they make you happy. Be the person you want to be because you like being that person. Write the books you want to write, or cook the foods you want to cook, or travel to the places you want to visit, or whatever the fuck you want, because it makes you happy. Odds are, you’ll meet the people who enjoy those things about you and enjoy them in similar ways.  The best part of this, beyond finding love or fans, is that you didn’t have to compromise one whiff of your self-expression to land your dreams.

Take a deep breath.

Know that a bad review will likely trigger an emotional response.  It sucks the first couple of times, but you get used to it. Let the flood of stress hormones happen. Keep breathing. Then practice some self-care.

Know this is all optional.

Lots of authors don’t read reviews. You can add your name to that distinguished club if you want. You don’t have to be on Goodreads, Amazon, or have Google Alerts set for your book title. You have the power to tune it out. Don’t be ashamed if you just don’t want to know. But if you do…..

Read for comprehension.

When we’re triggered, it’s easy to read a level-headed criticism as a screed and a screed as a death-threat. If you care about what reviews have to say (and you really don’t have to), take a deep breath and pay attention to what they’re saying. Try to remove your own ego from it. Are they being snarky for snark’s sake? Or do they level some well-tempered critique? You might be missing some nuggets of support if you’re too focused on criticism.

Find the gratitude.

Console yourself with the idea that they read your book. They gave you 4 to 24 hours of their lives. Maybe they skipped some parts, or even just straight to the end to see if they hated the ending as much as they suspected they would. But they read your book.  That’s a win.

Realize you can only do so much.

I used to review theater. Once after seeing a play that infuriated me in its execution, my brother-in-law offered me a well-tempered response: Don’t review the play you wished they had made. Review the one they actually did.

As a creator, your critics will likely review a book they wished you wrote instead of one you actually did. Did your critic feel mislead by the marketing? Did they hate the ending because they hate sad endings? Most of the time armchair critics write from a personal place. They aren’t necessarily taking your work in canon or context. Readers create emotional ties to their books, and if they feel betrayed in some way, they may lash out.  This likely doesn’t indicate a failing of your writing.

Some of my worst reviews for Lunatic Fringe contradict each other. While I can learn from each review, it’s not a failing of the book if someone hates the politics because they hate reading politics, or a sad ending because they only like happy ones.

Expect the inevitable.

Remember, it was only a matter of time before you got a bad review.  The people who get only good reviews are authors with no integrity who cook the books. Eventually, someone will hate your book. More people will ignore it. Which is worse?

Appreciate good bad reviews.

Who doesn’t love reading terrible reviews? When Roger Ebert died, people were sharing the highlights of his lowlights more than anything else. Why? We love a cutting wit. Dorothy Parker and Oscar Wilde’s careers were essentially made on this kind of thing. It sucks when you’re on the business end of razor-sharp wit. But what an honor to know that someone spent some time with your book, figuring out the best way to say how much they hated it?

And a well-written terrible review will guarantee that more people will read the book. 50 Shades of Gray became a phenomenon partially because of this kind of thing.

Add some back-patting….

You wrote a book. You published a book. People bought and liked your book. That’s a big deal. Most people will never do any of that. Many people desperately want to, but they never will.  You did. Good on ya.

And a little gentle ego inflation….

Keep honest, glowing reviews in a file on your computer, or somewhere accessible. Read them.  Read them again. Read them again and listen to the complements. Let them truly sink in.  Treat them as true. Few people really listen to praise. We only hear the cutting words of the critics, and we ignore the adorations of the fans. Know that people love your work, even if Hater McMeaniepants doesn’t.

Tell yourself: It’s not me, it’s you.

Maybe it’s a cliche artists tell themselves to keep from slitting their wrists but… some people won’t “get” it. Be careful with this one, because it’s the quickest draw defense mechanism out there. Your critic did likely not pan your book because they’re jealous, stupid, hateful, ugly, a wannabe, or a pathetic mouth-breather living in their mother’s basement. Indeed, your critic may be intelligent, reflective, and generally good-natured. But they may still hate your book.  And that’s okay.

Maintain radio silence.

For the love of all that is holy do not talk back. Seriously. Nothing will make you look and feel like a fool like sassing a critic.  You chose to be a professional author, now suck it up and get back to work.

Get Back To Work.

Write more stuff. This is why you do this, isn’t it? It’s not the accolades, the awards, the guest spots on Fresh Air. You write because you love to, so keep the love alive. And keep writing.

Hosted by Allison Moon.

Featuring readings by Alysia Angel, Tanya Olson, CJ Suitt, and more!

Show starts at 7pm

Books and merch will be on sale.

** This event is open to all 21+ folks: drinkers, non-drinkers, queers, non-queers, writers, non-writers and anyone in between. Come enjoy great literature and great company! **
Start Time: 19:00
Date: 2013-04-29
End Time: 20:30

STORIES
1716 West Sunset Blvd • Los Angeles   

7:30pm

Details

Monday, April 15 – Los Angeles (Echo Park) – Stories

Thursday, April 18 – Atlanta,  Charis Books [reading]

Friday, April 19 – Atlanta, Charis Books [workshop]

April ?? – Durham, NC (stay tuned!)

May 23 – Cleveland – Gay & Lesbian Center

May ?? – Chicago

May ?? – Minneapolis

Sorry for all the ??????!!!!  Details are coming, I just need to get things solid. IN THE MEANTIME, come out to these events!  They’re all free, except the workshop, which has a suggested donation because I’m a broke, traveling artist. Buy books and shirts and keep me chugging across the country!

If you’re in or near one of these cities and want me to come and read for you, email me at moon@talesofthepack.com and we can work some shit out.