On behalf of Jack Fisher, the sexy novels Jack Fisher aspires to write, and all things sexy, have a happy Halloween!
Halloween is, in my opinion, one of the most underrated holidays of the year. It’s got something for kids to love, namely free candy and an excuse to eat lots of candy. It’s got something for adults to love, namely sexy costumes and an excuse to wear said costumes. Granted, adults should never need an excuse to wear a sexy costume, but it can’t hurt.
I’ve always been fond of just sitting on my front porch, giving out candy to all the kids in my neighborhood. I also make damn sure I get the good stuff and lots of it. I like being the house that kids know is awesome. They certainly appreciate it, although I do think their parents do dread the coming sugar rush they’ll endure.
Then, there are the sexy costumes. God help me, I love those sexy costumes. I wasn’t in good shape until recently so I didn’t get a chance to put on one of those costumes. Without getting too personal, let’s just say that situation has changed and I look for every opportunity to wear a sexy costume. The women certainly go out of their way to do it. Why shouldn’t the men?
For me, it feels like a second act of New York Comic Con. That’s another occasion where people have a valid excuse to wear crazy outfits and dress up in overtly sexy ways. Again, such excuses shouldn’t be necessary, but it can’t hurt.
So in the spirit of Halloween and all the sexy fun it offers, I give you a few wonderfully sexy costumes, courtesy of sites like TheChive. Enjoy and have a fun, sweet, sexy time!
Cartoons aren’t just for kids, you know?
Not sure what these costumes are. Pretty sure I don’t care.
For one day of the year, lingerie counts as a costume. It’s a beautiful thing.
Sex appeal makes every costume better. It’s a basic law of nature.
A little creativity along with sexiness is also a beautiful thing.
Gotta catch ’em all, right?
Wonder Woman can be both a feminist icon and sexy. Halloween just reinforces that idea.
The only instance where school has some actual appeal.
I’m not afraid. That’s not quite what I’m feeling at the moment.
Thought I’d give another quick update on the status of “Passion Relapse.” Yesterday, I announced the exciting news that a publisher is very interested in developing this story for a novel. However, before they commit to it, they want to see a few revisions to the manuscript. I told them I’d get on that like grease on bacon.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t use those exact words, but you get the picture. I really am this determined to make “Passion Relapse” a success. I believe it has everything necessary to please/arouse fans of both romance and erotica.
The challenge, at least as the publisher laid it out to me, has to do with the mix of erotica/romance within this story. They told me I did a good job of setting it up. I did a good job of making it hot and sexy, which in this genre is like the most important ingredient to say the least. At this point, it only needs, according to them, some extra romance to act as icing on this decadent treat.
Much of the story in “Passion Relapse” is structured around two people coming together when they’re at their most vulnerable. I put a lot of time and energy, among other feelings, into fleshing that out. However, the romantic elements are mostly the culmination at the end. As such, I didn’t really dedicate a lot of text into fleshing that out.
In reading over the last few chapters, I agree with this sentiment. I think there is room to expand those romantic elements to that the combination of romance/erotica is more potent.
This is actually an issue I’ve been working on for a while now. I can craft stories that are heavy on erotic elements, like “The Final Communion” or “The Secrets of Sadfur Island.” Fleshing out the romance has often fallen to the wayside. It’s one thing to just get characters to hump in a believable way. It’s quite another to give it romantic weight.
To do it for “Passion Relapse,” I had to think long and hard. I admit I kind of frustrated myself coming up with ideas. I stayed up past midnight. I had an extra glass of whiskey. I refused to go to sleep until I had a viable idea.
Finally, before I could have one too many glasses of whiskey, I came up with an idea. It’s an idea that requires a rewrite of the final chapter in the story, but I think it’s an idea that will make “Passion Relapse” a more potent story for romance and erotica lovers alike.
I’ve already started working on it. I’ll probably be up until midnight again, sipping whiskey and contemplating ways to amplify the romance. It’ll be worth it though. I think it’ll show in the final product. I hope the publisher agrees.
With that in mind, blog posts may be a bit more limited in the coming days. I’ll provide more updates, but it’s for a good reason. I want to create a sexy, romantic story for the masses and such an effort requires my utmost attention. Thanks for understanding folks.
It’s been a while since I’ve updated everyone on the status of my manuscripts. There’s a good reason for that, albeit an infuriating one. That haven’t been many updates. In fact, the deadline for Crimson Frost Publishing to set a schedule for “Embers of Eros” is fast approaching. I really don’t want to run out of patience with them, but I’m getting uncomfortably close.
For that very reason, it was a breath of fresh air when I got another email from a publisher who is taking a look at another one of my unpublished manuscripts, “Passion Relapse.” This one has much more promise. I might dare to get my hopes up. Even though I’ve been burned before, I want to stay optimistic here.
Out of respect for the process, and to ensure I don’t upset anyone’s legal team, I won’t name the publisher or the name of the person I’ve been corresponding with. I’ll just say they’ve been very responsive and very constructive in their efforts to make “Passion Relapse” a real product. I’m not used to that sort of thing with publishers at this stage in my career, but I’d love to get used to it down the line.
It’s not going to be easy though. They’re not going to treat me like the next Stephen King, nor would I want them to. They’ve made it clear that “Passion Relapse” has some potential. Before they decide anything definitive, though, they want me to review it one more time and make a few edits if possible.
These edits aren’t large. They’re not asking me to rewrite entire sections or add ten new characters. They’re just asking me to tweak the mix of erotica and romance so that it has just the right blend. I can totally understand that and I’m definitely willing to make those edits.
I never write anything that I assume can’t be improved on some level. It’s not just about being your own harshest critic. It’s acknowledging that writing awesome novels is an ever-improving process. You have to keep improving, refining, and polishing your skills. You can’t ever just be satisfied with one novel or one particular writing style. You got to keep improving. That’s what I try to do with every book I write. Hell, I do it with each word I write.
The publisher told me there’s no strict timeline on this, but I intend to set aside some of my other projects and blog posts to do these edits. I want to get them back to the publisher as soon as possible, if only to let them know that I’m also responsive.
I sincerely hope something comes of this. I’d like this to be a stepping stone for other novels, past and present alike. I’ll provide more updates as they come in. For now, it’s all about the editing. A little extra romance here and a little extra sexiness there and “Passion Relapse” should get everyone’s blood flowing in all the right ways for all the right reasons.
I talk a lot about the absurdities in our culture that undermine or ruin our ability to love, make love, or just plain hump. These absurdities are important to me because I’m in the business of telling sexy, romantic stories. If there’s something that hinders or attacks our natural inclination to love and hump one another, then it’s going to affect the ability of my readers to get the most out of my books.
Since I want my readers to get the most out of my sexy love stories, I feel inclined to confront these absurdities. Sometimes it comes in the form of radical feminism. Sometimes it comes in the form of religious dogma. There’s no one singular force that’s putting the locks on our collective panties. It’s more of a drunken brawl of forces that are coordinating to attack one person, but don’t realize it.
It’s chaotic. It’s controversial. It’s bound to offend certain people with certain sensibilities. For that, I apologize, but I still feel that these absurdities need to be called out for what they are. It doesn’t matter if sticking your hand in a deep fryer is a sacred tradition. It’s still an absurdity on some levels.
The absurdity in this case has to do with the big V-word that we in the erotica/romance world must navigate. No, I’m not talking about a certain body part for a certain gender. I’m talking about the other big V-word. I’m talking about virginity.
Say that word out loud and measure your reaction. Then say another word like pencil and measure your reaction as well. Is it the same? If so, then you’re excused from reading the rest of this post. You’re more than equipped to appreciate the sex appeal of my books, which I highly recommend. If not, then this is something we need to talk about.
The whole concept of virginity is one of those concepts we, as a society, actively avoid scrutinizing. As a definition, it’s not that hard. Virginity is just a colorful term we used to describe those who have never had sex. If that were there was to it, then it wouldn’t be an issue. We’d lump it together with words like “moist” and “juicy.” They may make some people uncomfortable for entirely personal reasons, but most just shrug it off.
The problem is that, for reasons that have a lot to do with pre-modern culture and little to do with actual physical traits, the concept of virginity has been conflated, twisted, and in some cases deified. There’s a reason why the Virgin Mary has that moniker. If she were just the Hot Blond Mary, it would not have the same impact.
So why does it have this impact? Well, I’d love to say that there’s some complex, fascinating, socio-political reason for it. I’m sure there are some people who teach entire classes on this subject who can conjure complexities from this issue that make it seem akin to quantum mechanics. I’m not one of those people. That means I’m the answer I give is simple, crude, and frustratingly concise. Spoiler alert: I’ll be using caveman logic again.
Virginity has this impact for a pretty simple reason. For most of human history, we didn’t know squat about diseases. We didn’t have reliable pregnancy tests. On top of that, our best contraception involved trusting men to pull out at just the right moment. We can barely trust men with smartphones these days. You really think we can trust them that much when orgasms are involved? Just ask Anthony “Carlos Danger” Weiner.
This means that virginity is pretty much the only thing our ancestors had to be certain that a woman was disease free and not carrying someone else’s child. Marrying a virgin means there’s little chance she has the plague. It also helps guarantee that the kids she has are going to be yours biologically.
When your entire society is based on land-owning, agrarian traditions, that’s kind of a big deal. By kind of, I mean wars will be fought and people will lose their heads (among other body parts) if they find out their bride slept around or had a kid who wasn’t theirs.
Naturally, our caveman brains can’t process this on a wholly rational basis. Our biology, and the mechanisms that drive it, are blunt instruments. That means they’ll see an issue that may be as simple as a bent nail, but try to fix it with a jackhammer. It’s bound to cause some collateral damage. Unfortunately, the collateral damage in this case undermines the sexuality and agency of women.
It’s no coincidence that every major religion, including Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and pretty much every major religion founded before Scientology, places some emphasis on virginity. For these traditions, virginity isn’t just a pragmatic tool for ensuring disease-free, bastard-free brides. That’s too logical. They have to turn it into this esoteric, mystical brand of purity.
A virgin woman, in this context, is like a freshly-baked cookie that no one else has touched. It’s like perfectly ripened fruit that hasn’t been harvested yet. It’s like polished Rolls Royce that comes fresh from the factory, never driven and never sat in.
Is this starting to get creepy? Is comparing women to food, cars, and things that don’t have thoughts or feelings starting to bother you? Well, don’t go running to the toilet yet. That’s normal. That’s what happens when you peel back the layers about virginity and why it’s so deified. It really just comes down to a convenient excuse for old sexual traditions.
It’s still absurd, but it’s at least understandable to some degree. We didn’t know what we didn’t know for a long, long time. We only had these traditions and superstitions to guide us. The fact that we’re still here as a civilization and a species shows they did have some merit, but that merit is exceedingly limited, especially to those of us who think women should have agency in their sex lives. What a concept, right?
The concept of virginity became obsolete as soon as we discovered methods of contraception that don’t rely on trusting men to pull out at the right time. It’s become even more obsolete as medical science has advanced to a point where the diseases that used to render women sterile, weak, or dead are either curable or treatable. It’s a wonderful thing, women not being sick or at the mercy of their fertility.
Unfortunately, these outdated concepts of virginity didn’t die as soon as condoms and birth control pills became easier to obtain than cigarettes. Once again, our caveman brains screw us over and not in the fun way.
Remember, the caveman brain is not rational. That means it will cling to irrational crap for as long as possible because completely re-thinking a concept takes too much time and energy. That time and energy needs to be spent preparing for the winter and avoiding hungry bears, damn it! At least, that’s how our caveman brains see it.
As a result, the idea of virginity still has this strange place in modern society. It’s only strange because some people take it to distinctly creepy extremes. Those extremes lead to something like this.
That’s a purity ring. It’s one of the tools/gimmicks that extremely conservative types use in pushing their preferred brand of sexual education, “abstinence only.” They believe they can override an onslaught of hormones and millions of years of biological imperatives in impressionable, irrational teenagers. I want to admire their bravado, but at some point the absurdities are just too much.
They try to paint it as something romantic like, “true love waits.” As a romance/erotica writer, I just find that offensive. These religious, conservative types have their hearts in the right place. They don’t want young people engaging in risky sexual behavior that they’re not ready for. That’s entirely respectable, but extremely misguided.
It’s true that some people are better off waiting to have sex for the same reason some people are better off waiting to get their own credit card. They need to first make sure they’re responsible enough to handle all the proclivities that such things entail. Taking the abstinence route would be like not giving kids driver’s ed before they get a driver’s license. You’re just asking for trouble in the long run.
Sex is a lot like that road trip your parents to you on as a kid. You didn’t want to go. You worried and complained about it. Your parents just kept saying that if you think it’s going to be terrible, then it’s going to be terrible. You never admit they were right because you convinced yourself of something before you knew anything about it.
The same thing applies to sex. If you think it’s this dirty, evil deed that Satan created so that he could make babies to sacrifice, then you’re not going to enjoy it. It doesn’t matter whether it’s your wedding night or your prom night. You’ve already convinced yourself it’s going to be terrible.
You bought into all the dogma and let it rewire your brain, which still has that nasty imperative to survive and reproduce. It’s the one way you screw yourself that you can’t enjoy.
To make matters worse, our society still struggles with shaming women who decide to defy these notions of virginity. We don’t do it to men because men are just expected to hump everything with a pulse, which is offensive in and of itself to me, but that’s a post for another day. The women still disproportionately suffer the bulk of the shaming. Lose your virginity and you can expect to be shamed.
Human beings are sexual creatures. We’re also loving, passionate creatures. Trying to temper or restrain that passion for all the wrong reasons is going to have some nasty side-effect. Sadly, women are the ones who suffer those side-effects the most. Women are the ones who get stoned to death in certain parts of the world for not being virgins on their wedding nights. They’re the ones who get shamed when they try to enjoy sex.
As an erotica/romance writer, I want to celebrate and explore these feelings for men and women alike. I think they should be celebrated, but false notions of virginity and purity are getting in the way.
It’s still part of our culture, this idea that women should be pure and virginity is a virtue. It’ll continue to be part of our culture, even if we get to a point where contraception is fail-proof and medical science cures all diseases. Like many absurd traditions, it doesn’t stop being absurd.
With this in mind, anyone looking to learn a bit more about the concept of virginity and purity should check out this book by Jessica Valenti. It’s called “The Purity Myth: How America’s Obsession With Virginity Is Hurting Young Woman.” I highly recommend it. If nothing else, it’ll give you another reason to enjoy my books.
I originally had another topic I wanted to discuss today, but then something came up that just felt more pressing. By “came up,” I mean this literally just popped into my head last night while I was working on one of my novels. I admit I tend to think strange, twisted thoughts after a certain hour of the night. A lack of sleep and a couple glasses of whiskey will do that to a man, especially if he thinks a lot about romance/erotica.
However it came to me, it’s something that needs further contemplation. It has to do with a very specific trait pertaining to male sexuality and no, it has nothing to do with the size of certain organs. It has to do with something that we, as a society, can’t seem to decide whether is sexy. So for your consideration, here is the burning question I have to ask.
Is chest hair on a man considered sexy?
It may seem like a trivial detail. There are far more relevant traits and behaviors that improve a man’s sex appeal. We can cook, dance, sing, fight, play sports, play instruments, and shave our asses on a dare. Those are all perfectly valid mechanisms for moistening the panties of women and/or gay men, but what about chest hair?
This isn’t just relevant to my work as an erotica/romance writer where I have to be exceedingly graphic about all those sexy attributes that make a male character want to ditch his shirt. It’s also personal. I come from a family where most, if not all, of the men have a modest to abundant amount of chest hair. For the women in my life, present and future, that makes this somewhat pressing for me.
Yes, I do have chest hair. I’ve actually had some amount of chest hair since I was 19-years-old. I’m won’t I was the first guy in high school to get chest hair, but I’m fairy confident that I was in the top ten percentile. Over time, the amount of chest hair has grown. I’ve never shaved it, nor have I felt inclined to do so, but I find myself asking should I?
It’s a surprisingly difficult question to answer. Chest hair on men is one of those oddly neutral features. Men can have chest hair and be sexy. Men can be as waxed as a newly-minted Ferrari and be just as sexy. Women and gay men in general don’t seem to care either way.
Despite this, the issue of male grooming is still an ongoing discussion. There are no shortage of products and tips for men seeking to shave their chest. Sure, the discussions aren’t as heated as those surrounding pubic hair, but it’s one of those discussions that nobody seems to finish.
We can joke all we want about pubic hair. I’m sure I’ll do a post about that at some point and I doubt that post will be SFW, but chest hair should be less taboo because genitals aren’t involved. Even so, it’s still a topic we refuse to take seriously.
In fact, the closest that recent popular culture has come to addressing this issue was in an old episode of Seinfeld. It’s actually one of my favorite episodes of this show, among many, but it’s a nice metaphor for the issue at hand.
Jerry finds that some women do appreciate a clean-shaven chest, but as he so often does, he finds a way to complicate things. Kramer offers insight, albeit the eccentric type. It’s not entirely relevant, but it is funny.
As a rule of thumb, I think that when a topic finds its way into an episode of a sitcom, then it’s gotten to a point where we, as a society, are stuck on this issue. We can’t figure it out so we make a few jokes about it. It’s immature and goofy, but it can still be funny and that’s better than nothing.
This is also one of those issues where applying caveman logic just doesn’t seem to work. Body hair isn’t so much an integral part of our biological wiring as it is a holdover from our hairy ancestors. For a time, hair had its uses. It provided insulation from cold nights on the savanna. As conditions changed and evolution responded, this just wasn’t necessary anymore.
As a result, evolution basically stopped giving a shit about body hair. It didn’t do a way with it. Evolution is not that efficient. It can be downright eccentric though. Humans are unique in that they’re one of the few primates that lost most of their body hair and science isn’t quite sure why, but there are a few theories.
Whichever theory proves correct, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re still stuck with body hair to some extent. Evolution is basically taking the stance of a dismissive teenager going, “Sure. You want to keep it? You want to ditch it? Do whatever the hell you want.”
That makes for some frustration, but at least it leaves men a bit of flexibility. Hair isn’t like a limb. Cut it off and it grows back. If one lover hates chest hair, you can shave it off and not worry about missing out on lovers who prefer it. As a man, I appreciate and value flexibility in my personal grooming, but I’m still somewhat torn here.
So for the ladies and gay men out there, what say you? Is chest hair sexy? Is a lack of it sexier? Under what circumstances is it sexy? At what point does it cease being sexy? As an erotica/romance writer, I really need to know these things. Any help that anyone could offer on this issue would be greatly appreciated.
If I were to walk up to you and say, “Don’t kick elephants!” what would be the first thing that pops into your mind? For one, you’d probably be wondering what sort of head trauma I had suffered as a child to issue such a warning. Then, you’d probably think about kicking elephants.
This isn’t just the musings of someone who may have gotten hit in the head with one too many baseballs as a kid because he sucked at little league. This is a mental exercise that author/reporter/TV personality John Stossel uses in his book, “Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity.” It’s as colorful a read as it sounds.
The reason I cite this tactic is because it perfectly demonstrates something that I often see in romance/erotica, be it novels, movies, TV shows, or hardcore porn. Some call it taboos. Some call it tradition. I think it’s best described as the “Forbidden Fruit Effect.” Whatever you call it, it affects our culture, our minds, and our sex lives. Being an erotica/romance writer, it affects my career path as well so I feel I should talk about it.
Most of us in Western traditions know what we’re referring to when we talk about “forbidden fruit.” It comes right out of the bible, symbolizing something tempting that some higher authority have told us to avoid. In the bible, it’s an apple. In real life, it can be damn near anything.
For some people, that fruit is chocolate. For others, it’s alcohol, heroin, or cocaine. It doesn’t even have to be drugs. There have been higher authorities warning people about dungeons and dragons, comic books, and Pokémon. Some of these fruits are legitimate health concerns, especially with drugs. Others, such as those who whine about Pokémon, are just plain stupid.
For the purposes of this discussion, though, the forbidden fruit effect is applied to something that impacts everybody. Yes, I’m talking about sex. Let’s face it, none of us would be alive if it weren’t for sex. That makes it a slightly more important fruit than Pokémon.
There are a lot of forbidden fruit aspects surrounding sex, erotica, and romance. There are so many, in fact, that I’ll probably have to do multiple posts about it to really explore the breadth of this issue. For now, I’d like to keep things general because this is something that I’m exploring for a reason. I am actively developing a new novel that uses the forbidden fruit effect in an extreme (hopefully sexy) way. Consider this a prelude of sorts.
With respect to erotic issues, there is no one forbidden fruit that applies to every culture or every society in every time period. Human beings are just too damn complex/diverse/eccentric. There is one relatively common fruit that is fairly pervasive in Western traditions, particularly those with roots in the three Abrahamic faiths, namely Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.
That fruit pertains to female sexuality. It’s not sex in general. It’s specifically female sexuality that takes on the aura of forbidden fruit. For proof of just how much it affects us, look no further than Carl’s Jr. ads like this.
Show an ad like this to an audience where female sexuality is taboo and it’s easy to imagine the reactions. Such an audience sees this and thinks, “Oh my God! Look! It’s a sexy female! A beautiful sexy female! It’s so wrong! So immoral/sinful! It’s making me think impure thoughts! Help me!”
I admit, that’s an exaggeration. It still illustrates the impact that forbidden fruit has on our minds. It doesn’t even always come from a strictly moral stand either. There are people on the other side of the socio-political spectrum that see that ad and think, “Oh my heavens! There’s a sexy female! It’s so wrong! It’s so blatantly sexist/misogynistic! This is an affront to women everywhere and it must be destroyed!”
Yes, that’s another exaggerated reaction. It illustrates the same effect. If a man were in that ad, it may raise a few eyebrows, but it won’t generate full-blown distress. It highlights just how much that we, as a civilization, have skewed female sexuality.
So how did this happen? Why did this happen? When did we, as a society, decide that female sexuality was this succulent, delicious treat that we dare not seek, touch, or even think about?
Culture, primarily those built around economic models that require large farms where large families are needed to grow crops, are also major culprits. I’ve discussed it before. When there’s an economic incentive to make sure women have a lot of babies and men have incentive to make sure those babies are his, then society will find every possible excuse, crazy or otherwise, to manage female sexuality accordingly.
As a result of these forces, female sexuality isn’t just a forbidden fruit. It’s basically the ultimate prize for men, a Super Bowl trophy on top of a pile of gold-plated elephant’s tusks. For women, it’s this inherent shame that they must carry and be anxious of every moment of every day. For both genders, it’s pretty damn stressful.
Naturally, it’s going to screw with our minds. Sex isn’t like chocolate, video games, or Pokémon. It’s a hard-wired basic drive. Nature programs every living thing to survive and reproduce. It doesn’t program us to survive, reproduce, and level up our Pokémon. It’s one thing to stop playing Pokémon. It’s quite another to subvert basic human drives.
This is born out in research. Some call it, “The Paradox of Temptation.” When you establish that something is just another option, then your brain tends to assess them on equal footing, which is what it’s supposed to do. That’s a survival mechanism. We need that.
However, when you establish that something is a forbidden option, then the wiring of your brain gets a little clunky. That caveman logic in our brains comes back to haunt us again. It follows the skewed logic that if this is forbidden, then it must be valuable and if it’s valuable, then it must be sought.
It also plays out in our interest and desire towards sex. Utah is famous for being a religiously conservative state run by Mormon, another religious sect that places a high emphasis on sexual morality. By sexual morality, they mean women should not have sex for any other reason than to make more Mormon babies that will grow into more Mormons who will give the Mormon church more money.
Why does awareness matter? Well, remember this famous speech by Alec Baldwin?
Ignore the premium-level assholery for a moment and look at the sale strategy called AIDA (Attention, Interest, Decision, Action). What’s the first part of that strategy? It’s simply getting the customers attention. You could argue it’s the most important step because the other three steps can’t happen without the first.
Attention is the first step towards making a sale. It’s also the first step towards making connections, forming relationships, and finding the love of your life. It doesn’t matter if your one true love walks right up to you. If you don’t get his or her attention, it doesn’t amount to jack squat.
By making something taboo and forbidden, you immediately give it some extra attention. Just like when John Stossel says, “Don’t kick elephants!” you end up drawing more attention to it than it would if it were just another mundane choice.
Apply that to sex and we’re bound to skew, disrupt, or undermine our attitudes towards sex in a multitude of ways. We’ve created a set of assumptions and morals in our culture that say female sexuality is forbidden and should not be expressed in ways that a Mormon priest wouldn’t approve of. As a result, we give a lot of attention to female sexuality because we’ve convinced our caveman brains it’s somehow more precious than other forms of sexuality.
When you take into account the gold rushes, tulip manias, and black Friday sales after Thanksgiving, it’s easy to see how excessive attention and skewed value can mess with our heads. It affects how we structure our relationships, how we seek love, and how we deal with our lovers.
It’s one thing to forbid something that’s genuinely harmful, like heroin and meth. It’s quite another to forbid basic sexual expressions that are an intrinsic part of our nature. It’s a concept I’m exploring for a future novel.
I don’t want to reveal too much at the moment because my plans for this book are tentative, but expect it to be a story that confronts forbidden sexual expressions in the most direct way possible. It’ll be direct, but it’ll also be sexy as hell and just as entertaining. I’ll post more details as the story develops.
Until then, think about all the sexual taboos in our world. Look at them closely. Try to filter out the flaws in our caveman logic. Should these forbidden fruits really be so forbidden? It’s a question worth asking.
Just thought I’d share this. A few months ago, I announced I had forged some connections with the fine folks at ComicsVerse, a great comic book website for comic book fans of all levels. They gave me a chance to write an article for them and I jumped at the chance. I submitted one a number of weeks ago. Today, it was finally published and I’m very proud of it. The topic requires some understanding of what’s going on in the comic book world right now, but it’s still a fun piece to read for those who just enjoy my unique style, however few there may be. Enjoy!
People make a big fucking deal about it when a woman decides to be sexy. For reasons that our prudish, uneducated, superstitious ancestors have cursed us with, we’re immediately aghast when a woman dares show a significant amount of cleavage, mid-drift, or ass outlines. We’re still at an immature stage of our development as a civilization where the sight of a pair of tits is enough to stop traffic.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love and appreciate any and all women who decide to be sexy. I encourage every woman who reads this blog or my books to be as sexy as you damn well please. The world will be a better place because of it.
However, I’m also of the opinion that men can be sexy too. I’m also of the opinion that both genders have an equal right to be sexy. Whether you’re gay, straight, bi, or something else altogether, you should take some time to act, feel, or be sexy. You may not always have a lover to do it with, but sometimes just being sexy on your own is good enough.
For me, it kind of comes with the territory. When you’re constantly conjuring new plots for erotica/romance novels, you can’t help but get into a certain mindset. Since our caveman brains are so crude, it tends to be a side-effect of sorts. You contemplate sexy stories so you feel inclined to act sexy. It’s too damn logical.
For a man, I think it’s a bit harder to be sexy. We don’t have boobs and that immediately puts us at a disadvantage. However, we men do have assets. We do have quirks that make us feel like we’re James Bond in a speedo. They’re different for every man, but I’d like to share a few moments where I’m at my sexiest. If you don’t have a spare pair of panties handy, you may want to skip this.
One: When I Lay In Bed Naked After A Long Hard Day
This one should come as no surprise to anyone who follows this blog. I sleep naked. I enjoy sleeping naked. I encourage everyone, male or female, to sleep naked if it’s an option to them.
It’s not just good for the body and the soul. Laying naked under the sheets, you feel like you’ve returned to a more primal state. You’ve completed the hunt. You’ve done your tribe proud for the day. Now, you celebrate by enjoying a well-deserved rest.
Two: When I Put On A Suit And Tie
As a kid, I didn’t like wearing fancy clothes. They were itchy, cumbersome, and my parents always got upset when I spilled hot sauce on it. That’s to be expected. When you’re a kid, you don’t think about being sexy. You just think about candy, cartoons, and avoiding homework.
As an adult, I’ve grown quite fond of men’s fashion. I’ve found that when I put on a suit, even if it’s a cheap suit I bought from Walmart, I feel pretty damn sexy. I stand in front of the mirror, look at myself, and think, “Damn! Now that’s a guy who will get shit done.”
It helps that I look damn good in a suit as well. I know this because others who aren’t relatives have told me as such. Women definitely appreciate it more. They treat you very differently when you walk into a restaurant wearing a suit compared to jeans and a T-shirt I haven’t washed in three weeks. It doesn’t just show you take care of yourself. It shows you want the world to know how goddamn sexy you are.
Three: When I Finish A Novel
This one is specific to me, an aspiring erotica/romance writer. It has nothing to do with my physical appearance. It doesn’t even have anything to do with what I’m wearing or not wearing. It’s just one of those powerful moments that is unique to me.
When I finished my first major book, “Skin Deep,” I felt like I could get a date with Jennifer Lawrence. I felt like I really accomplished something. I completed a piece of art that I put a lot of heart and soul into. I contributed to the world of sexiness by telling a damn sexy story. To say I had a little swagger in my step would’ve been a gross understatement.
Four: When I’m Exercising Or Finish Exercising
I don’t think this needs much explanation. It actually wasn’t until my late 20s that I began exercising regularly. Before that, I had a pretty unhealthy, pretty unsexy lifestyle. I avoided exercise whenever I could. I ate like I was still in college.
I eventually realized that this was not a healthy way to live my life. As such, I began eating a little better and working out. At first, it was a chore. I did it only because I had to or because I basically pushed myself to do it. Well, it turns out there was another reward that I didn’t expect.
Getting all hot and sweat, pushing my body and muscles to their limit, makes me feel sexy as hell. It makes my muscles bulge. It makes my skin glow. It makes me feel energized, like I could wrestle a bear and sing Metallica songs every step of the way. I may be dirty, disheveled, and smelly, but I feel like I maximize my manliness.
Five: When I Win An Argument Against An Asshole
In general, I try to avoid meaningless arguments. I’ve learned over the years that some things just aren’t worth arguing about because some people have their heads too far up their asses to see they’re wrong. I’ve been among those people. I admit, I’ve been laughably wrong at times and that’s not a good feeling.
However, on those rare occasions when I know I’m right and there’s an asshole on the other end, I make it a point to expose the bullshit. When I do, I can’t help but feel a little extra swagger. We live in a world where truth and honesty are at a premium. That makes them precious to both men and women alike. Possessing something that is precious can be damn sexy. Just ask any man who has a Lamborghini.
These are just some of the moments where I’m at my most sexy. These are the moments in which women have the best chance at seeing just how great Jack Fisher can be as a man, a lover, an erotica/romance writer, and everything in between. These moments can be fleeting, but they’re worth pursuing and cherishing at every turn.
As a general rule, I try to stay away from overblown media outrages. It’s not that I don’t have an opinion on them. It’s just that in my experience, peoples’ attention spans are so damn short and their outrage is so damn selective that it’s just not worth the time. I’d much rather dedicate my energy to something more productive, like writing novels that make men and women horny for all the right reasons.
However, there are certain outrages that I feel obliged to address. If said outrage involves comic books, superheroes, and people who whine about insanely petty issues, then I’m going to make my opinion known. I love comic books and superheroes. I hope I’ve made that abundantly clear on this blog. I’ll continue belaboring that love for as long as I must.
So when someone decides to throw a hissy fit that gives comic book fans like me a migraine, I’m going to take notice and I’m going to have an opinion, especially if said hissy fit involves something petty.
So what has people whining, bitching, and moaning at superhuman levels this time? Well, it all has to do with a comic book cover for an upcoming series called “Invincible Iron Man.”
It’s not actually the main cover for the book. It’s what we in the comic world call a variant, meaning there’s only so much that are printed. They’re basically a gimmick for comic collectors and since they can be pretty damn awesome, most comic book fans don’t mind. I certainly don’t.
This one in particular is actually a variant cover exclusive by J. Scott Campbell, a very talented and highly respected artist among comic book fans. This one was actually done for Midtown Comics, a premier comic book store in New York City that I make it a point to visit every time I go there. So of course it’s special and of course it’s going to carry more weight than others.
So what’s the controversy? Well, before I reveal that, let me show you the cover. If you can immediately spot the outrage, then I think you’re already part of the problem so this blog post won’t affect you. If not, then bear with me because it’s going to get even pettier than you think.
Not bad, right? Good colors, good lines, and a generally upbeat tone. It depicts Riri Williams, a young African American woman who will be taking the role of Iron Man for a while. Those of you who only know Iron Man from Robert Downy Junior’s depiction in the Avenger movies may be confused. Trust me, it’s actually more confusing than you think.
I won’t get into the reasons why someone else is taking over Iron Man. I’ll just note that this happens a lot in comics. Every now and then, an established character will either die or go MIA for a while so someone else can take up the mantle. It’s been happening a lot lately because Marvel has been seeking more diversity in its heroes.
Riri Williams is hardly the first. Last year, they did the same with Wolverine. The former Wolverine in the comics died and was replaced by his clone/daughter, Laura Kinney. By and large, it was a success. It generated little to no controversy. Even comic book fans shrugged it off. Who better to take over for Wolverine than his own daughter? It’s a beautiful thing.
So what’s up with this cover surrounding Riri Williams? On the surface, it’s the kind of cover that appeals to comic book fans who want a simple, visually appealing hook for a comic. It’s a visual medium, after all. Shouldn’t it be pretty to look at?
For some people, being pretty is some horrible affront to all that is good and just in the world. How is it terrible unjust? Just look at the cover again. Look at how sexualized it is. No seriously, look at it. Is this piece of artwork really so overtly sexual that a generation of children will be scarred for life by seeing it?
I try to be fair and understanding in all major controversies. I really do. This time, however, I have to fight the urge to bang my head against a brick wall. Is this what really qualifies as being too sexual lately? Is this comic book cover, in an era where the hardest of hardcore porn is available with a simple google search, just too damn sexy for public consumption?
Sadly, enough people whined about it to prompt Marvel to pull the cover from the market. It’s a victory for those who are so fragile, so weak, and so petty that they can’t stand the idea of any form of media being the least bit sexy. For anyone who is just a fan adding more beauty to this deranged world, it’s the equivalent of a tequila hangover.
This isn’t the first time people have lost their shit over a comic book cover being too sexy. A few years ago, those same puritanical, overly petty types lost their shit over this cover for Spider-Woman #1.
That cover is by Milo Manara, an artist with a history of creating artwork that is overtly pornographic. Is it the best style for a superhero comic that’s marketed to adults and kids? Probably not. At the very least, there’s some merit behind the outrage here. It doesn’t take an overly petty person to look at this cover and see that it takes too much inspiration from Nikki Manaj videos.
Again though, how petty do you have to be to think Riri Williams in this cover is too sexual? Yeah, she’s a teenager and she shows off her mid-drift. News flash people, teenagers dress like that. Anybody remember Madonna? She was a teenager at some point too a million years ago and she dressed like this.
Have we really regressed that much since the 1980s? Are we really returning to a time when a woman exposing her mid-drift is on the same level as flashing her tits at a bus full of kindergartners? I know outrage is usually selective and petty to some degree, but this is a world of internet porn and Honey Boo Boo. I think that kind of pettiness is obsolete.
Again, here’s the cover one last time. Again, this is Riri Williams, a young African American woman who is about to become a superhero. Look at it closely.
She’s not wearing a thong. She’s not wearing a bikini. She’s not even wearing a dress for crying out loud. She’s just wearing what you’ll probably see high school kids wear around the beach, a mall, or anywhere they want to show off how many sit-ups they’ve done. If J. Scott Campbell wanted to make an overly sexy cover, there are many other ways he could’ve done it.
Except he didn’t. Some may argue that Riri’s bodily proportions are wrong and unrealistic. Some would much rather have her look like someone we would probably ignore if she walked into a coffee shop in New York. These are the same people who don’t seem to mind Photoshop being used on fashion magazines or breast implants being used by porn stars. Once again, they have to be extremely petty and selective with their outrage.
I can stand people being petty. I can stand people being outraged over dumb shit. We’re a flawed species. We’re bound to act stupid for obscenely stupid reasons. However, when that stupidity is given credibility, I have a problem with it. I doubt this will be the last such problem, but it sets a sad and dangerous precedent. It means that those who whine and complain loud enough will have their childish arguments taken seriously.
We don’t take children seriously when they whine about not being able to eat candy for dinner every day. Why should we take them seriously with this? Trick question. We shouldn’t.
It’s Sunday. It’s a crisp fall morning. It’s chilly outside, but that doesn’t stop me from sleeping naked, as I’m so fond of doing. It’s been a long week. I’ve spent a good chunk of that week writing about and contemplating the future.
So for crisp Sunday morning like this, I’d like to take a step back. I’d like to take a deep breath. I’d also like to limit the amount of time I have to wear clothes today. Yes, I know it’s Fall. Yes, I know it’s getting cold out. No, I won’t let that stop me from spending as much time as I can naked. Read some of my books. A good chunk of them have been written while I’m naked.
I find that I have some of my best creative moments while naked, sexy or otherwise. I think everybody’s brain contemplates something unique when they’re naked or feeling sexier than usual. These thoughts are special and are definitely worth sharing.
Some call them “shower thoughts.” This is somewhat appropriate. We all shower and bathe ourselves naked. It’s one of the few times in modern life where we disconnect, step away from our hectic lives, and are just alone with our thoughts and our bodies. It’s one of the most underrated moments of everyone’s day. Even if they don’t bathe every day, just being naked and alone with your thoughts can be quite enlightening, among other things.
There are many on the internet that agree with this sentiment. I’m thankful to live in a time in human history where we have something that allows us to connect with others who are equally fond of lounging around in the nude on a crisp Sunday morning. Whether you’re a man or a woman, it’s a special feeling that’s worth sharing.
Thankfully, there are sites like TheChive, which act as hubs the for funny, sexy, entertaining bits of media you aren’t going to see on PBS. They have entire pages dedicated to such “shower thoughts.” In the interest of inspiring those who may benefit from spending more time naked, I’d like to share a few.
I’d say this depends entirely on the shoes in question, but I can’t say I disagree.
It’s logic like this that makes me think that human intelligence doesn’t get enough credit because only idiots make the news.
I’m not sure I can ever get the same enjoyment out of WWE that I do with porn, but that’s just me.
This almost makes me feel sorry for my male ancestors. I shudder to think about the lengths they went to in order to see a naked woman. What a wonderful time to be alive.
This is one of those things I wish people were more honest about. It would make our love lives much more efficient.
I’d watch that show. Hell, I’d DVR every episode and binge watch it multiple times, if only to thoroughly destroy all the bullshit I learned in sex ed classes in high school.
I’m not sure if this is injustice, hypocrisy, stupidity or a combination of all three. If it’s a combination, it’s a damn potent combination.
I’m not sure Elon Musk has thought this far ahead, but I’d be shocked if he didn’t contemplate this issue at some point.
Again, perfect logic can be both intriguing and disturbing. Although for this one, couldn’t you just take a picture of your flacid penis and be okay?
This isn’t a thought so much as it is a valid strategy. For those of us that enjoy loud, raucous sex, you can never have too many strategies like this.
Something to think about the next time you and your lover have sex on your birthday. It may or may not kill the mood, depending on what your relationship with your parents is like. Personally, I’m thankful my parents enjoyed sex enough to make me.
Those are some fun, sexy thoughts to warm you up on this crisp Sunday morning. Hope helps complete your weekend. Got any other sexy Sunday thoughts to share? Share them! Let’s make this our way of making cold, Sunday mornings more fun.
