PayPal-Imposed Morality

Did you think I was just blowing hot air when I posted yesterday about Big Brother?  Over the last week, PayPal has bullied every vendor that uses its service to conduct business to remove books containing certain unsavory FICTIONAL erotic content from its catalog or have its account suspended.

Many (if not most) of these vendors rely heavily on PayPal for transaction processing. Account suspension would (at least temporarily) be akin to closing up shop. Revenue would plummet, at least until another payment processing system was implemented.

Since my post, Smashwords caved, and the latest is A1AdultEbooks, a niche bookstore for hardcore BDSM:

Hi,

This is an urgent announcement to all authors and publishers who either currently have books on Fiction4All and A1AdultEbooks or who have done so in the past. If you have left us in the past this announcement will not specifically apply to you, but it will apply when and if you decide to publish with us again.

As some of you will be painfully aware, PayPal is clamping down on what content they will allow in the arena of erotic literature. Specifically they are clamping down on the areas of `underage`, `bestiality`, `rape` and `incest`.  The first 2 categories are not relevant to Fiction4All and A1AdultEbooks as we have never accepted such content. However, we do have some potential issues with the new PayPal definitions of `rape` and `incest`.

PayPal are clamping down on what is widely referred to as `pseudo-incest` - adult relationships between step-parent and non-blood related offspring.

They are also widening the definition of `rape` to include any non-consensual sexual activity. We have always had a policy banning `rape` when mentioned as such but we now have to consider the wider implications of the `non-consensual` definition being applied by PayPal.

Because of the changes being imposed by PayPal, Fiction4All has been forced to take the same decision as almost all major publishers - with immediate effect we will no longer publish or offer for sale books where the title, cover or synopsis suggests a book contains either incest or pseudo-incest relationships.

We have a bigger problem on some sites in that BDSM is a major theme in many of the stories we sell. It may be that if PayPal complain about those stories we will have to stop using PayPal on those sites for a while until we can resolve what PayPal and the card companies will and will not allow. That is a headache for the future.

For now, the definition of incest and pseudo-incest is more clear cut and one we can act to take control of. This is a pro-active measure to prevent PayPal removing their services from us, which would have a major impact on all sales.

We will be going through our list of titles over the next few days and removing from sale any title we consider is likely to breach the `incest` and `pseudo-incest` definitions now banned by PayPal and we will email you individually if we have to remove any title from sale. Such titles will then be `blocked` so they can not be returned to sale.

We will also be updating our publishing guidelines for authors and publishers to reflect this as soon as possible.

I have already discussed things with a few authors and I think some titles which look like they may fall into the banned categories, can be changed so that they are more accurately titled and described (if this can apply to your books then please let me know).

If all you write is erotica between consenting, non-related adults, or between husband and wife, then this does NOT affect you.

I`m sorry to have to write in this vein and add another layer of misery to a lot of people who have been experiencing the clampdown on their own, but as this already affects Amazon, Excessica, BookFinder, Apple, Sony, Barnes and Noble, and many others, I think it is only a matter of time before all ecommerce sites will be affected. As to the future - if you are an author, sadly I suggest you stick to what is known to be safe to sell!

Kind Regards
Stuart
CEO Fiction4All (including A1AdultEbooks)

Now, eventually -- precisely because there is a market for the types of fiction being targeted -- the industry will adjust. Until then, authors who put food on their tables from the sales of such fiction are quite screwed. Those who "merely" want a venue for their artistic expression can offer their work via email or other means. Literotica is a popular host of free content that doesn't shy away from edgier work, and it has a huge audience. Yes, it mixes the pearls with the swine. Then again, some claim that indie publishing does the same.

Think this doesn't impact you as an author, a reader, a publisher, and/or a vendor because you don't deal in "that kind" of erotica? Take off your blinders.

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

S-E-X

Y'all have heard the saying: Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you. Well, when it comes to any business related to sex, from toys to videos to music lyrics to books to contraception, they are out to get you.

Why?

One word: control.

Those who control sex control the world, and that's not an exaggeration. Think about it.

Sex is as natural as breathing. Who planted the notion in our minds all but the narrowest of sexual situations -- especially between consenting adults -- are sinful or shameful? More importantly, why?

Uh huh. Control. Control people and they'll buy your products, fight your wars, kiss your ass.

People who feel guilty or ashamed are even easier to control. They'll do what they're told, including the persecution of others who color outside the lines. It happens in politics. It happens in religion. It happens in media, advertising, and retail. It's pervasive. And people fall for it. Sheeple.

When you are conditioned from childhood to believe that having multiple sexual partners is undesirable, that having a same sex partner is scandalous, that masturbation is wrong, that bisexuality is slutty, that cross dressing is twisted, that anal sex is an abomination, and that polyamory is unnatural, you are being controlled. When you look down your nose at what trips someone else's triggers because those triggers are not on some arbitrary list of copacetic kinks, it is a direct result of you having been manipulated to believe that sex is dirty.

Nothing. Nothing, nowhere, ever, ever is going to expunge our desire for sex -- and our desire to be desired for sex. Look at all the money advertisers spend to push products geared to make you look, smell, taste, and feel sexy. You're being controlled. You're being told what to believe and when to believe it. Your body must look like this, your hair like that. You can't have wrinkles. It's not attractive. It's also bullshit.

There are some frightful forces at work these days. Corporate interests pushing politicians to behave like something out of 1984. And Big Brother has some serious hangups about sex. Anyone who truly believes the war on contraception and the war on hardcore erotica are unrelated needs to buy my beachfront property in Kentucky.

When it comes to censoring erotica, the manipulators are skilled. They first target the niches that are considered (again, due to that conditioning) unsavory. We're talking about fiction here. Fiction! Imaginary friends. Made up stuff. Legal stuff, even, between consenting adults. Sorry. Can't have it. They're systematically making it financially difficult for a business to supply a product for which there is a strong demand.

Readers need to understand that if they want to continue to have unrestricted access to their preferred fantasy fiction, they need to speak up. It might be uncomfortable. Overcoming the lifelong conditioning that it's sinful or shameful is damned difficult.

Authors need to understand that if they allow these forces to divide and conquer, they've ceded control -- creative control -- to Big Brother. We write to entertain, to enlighten, and to titillate. We don't write to further someone else's agenda.

Vendors need to band together and fight back against coercion from payment processors, because without authors, the vendors will not have a product to sell.

Voters need to be aware that the candidates spouting words about controlling sex, relationships, and contraception are not working for the people. They're working for Big Brother.

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

New Cover, Old Book

In an effort to spur sales on a title that is (in my humble opinion) grossly under appreciated, I sexied up its cover:

Uploading it to all the ebook sites now. :)

Kindle Free for You from Me

Ho Ho Ho! Happy Holidays!



           

I've often been asked what books I've most enjoyed writing or that hold a special place in my heart. Well, here they are. Free on Amazon for the holiday weekend. Both are short (under 10K words) but have plenty of nuance, emotion, romance, and hot sex. I hope you enjoy them.

peace & passion & properity,

~ Alessia

Whole Lotta #FREE #erotica #ebooks

Not just for Black Friday, either! Did you give (or receive) an ebook reader this year? Load it up with free sexy stories. It's the gift that keeps on giving *wink wink nudge nudge*

I have lowered the prices on every ebook of fewer than 5,000 words to FREE at All Romance eBooks, OmniLit, Smashwords (along with its distribution channels: B&N, Kobo, Sony, Diesel, Apple, etc.), and Goodreads. Amazon, of course, doesn't allow publishers to set prices to free, although I have submitted a plea to have the titles offered at no cost.

The following titles are now FREErotica:

Round 2 - JUST ONE BITE

You have to register (free) in order to read (also free) all 32 16 "Just One Bite" contest finalists, but it's well worth the effort. My story, Blood on Love, has made it to the 2nd round against some tough competition!

Blood on Love

You have to register (free) in order to read (also free) all 32 "Just One Bite" contest finalists, but it's well worth the effort. My story, Blood on Love, has some tough competition!

Just One Bite

News from the ARe Cafe: The 32 finalists have been chosen (and I'm one of 'em)! Look for these stories on All Romance on September 22. Voting for Round 1 begins on October 1. Good luck to all the finalists! Read a bit more about my story, Blood on Love, below.

Gathered Here This Night – Ada Maria Sot
The Run – Rachel Maria Gallagher
NC-17 – Debra Anastasia
Human – Sarah Gilman
A Fair Exchange – Ana Hart
At His Knee – Raven Corinn Carluk  
Blood on Love – Alessia Brio
Night Carnival – Kathryn Meyer Griffith
To Love Again – Allie Ritch
Reflection of Love – Juliet Cardin
How Much is that Vampire in the Window – Ann Hinnenkamp
Inhuman Resources – Melisse Aires
Two Birds, One Stone – Barbara Elsborg
You Will Not Kill Me – Elaine Lowe
Ritual Ink – Joely Sue Burkhart
Red in Tooth and Claw – Kim Knox
Going Wild – Jocelyn Michel
The Vampire Next Door – Lauren Hawkeye
Ownership – Ashlynn Monroe
By the Fireside – Shermaine Williams
His For the Taking – Angelita Gill
This Cowboy Bites – Randi Alexander
Every Last Bite – Christine DePetrillo
Original Sin – Rosalie Stanton
Taste of a Werewolf – Megan Derr
The Visitor – Rukaya Hamdi
Bound for Death – Anitra Lynn McLeod
Bite the Dust – Sarah Madison
Friends, Not Food – Julia Talbot
Of Men and Mice – Mara Ismine
I Promise – Cardeno C.
Sitting a Feisty Stallion – ID Locke

 ~ ~ ~

Blood on Love


BLURB:

Jadzia is a misfit among outcasts. At an age when happiness is typically contingent upon fitting in, she wears a shield of indifference. Inside, loneliness consumes her. It isn’t until she encounters L’Aran that she discovers a world in which she not only belongs, but is powerful beyond her wildest fantasies. 

SYNOPSIS: 

Teen cutter, Jadzia, is without any color in her life. Nothing inspires. Her mother’s funeral brings her into contact with the mysterious L’Aran, who awakens feelings she wasn’t even aware were repressed. Together they begin to unravel the mystery of their very being, the heights of their power, and the depths to which others will go to pervert it.

The Mad Scientists of Smut

Because Shanna asked so nicely, here I am... in daylight, with decent color & direct gaze, looking remarkably non-furtive. I don't believe I look like a compulsive masturbator, but looks can certainly be deceiving. However, I am the cheese on this Darth sammich. (Hold the mayo.)

With the 501st at the 2008 Philly Book Festival

Thinking about L.A. Banks

RT Orlando 2009

I learned today, via Facebook, that Ms. Leslie (L.A.) Banks is not well. This makes my heart heavy. I had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Banks at Romantic Times in Orlando in 2009 after she'd written the introduction (see below) to Coming Together: At Last (our bestselling anthology to date), and I found her to be incredibly warm & genuinely caring.

When next our paths crossed, it was at RT in Columbus the following year. We talked about her incredible experience of meeting President Obama & introducing him at a rally (video embedded below). Ironic that the subject of that introduction was health care.

There is a fund accepting donations for Leslie's growing medical expenses. (Click here for more information on how to donate.) Please contribute if you have the means. <3

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

March 8, 2010

 

From Coming Together: At Last, Introduction by L.A. Banks: 

What is the color of the most powerful force in the universe, love? When we look at hope and freedom and change and passion, do these words conjure a race or ethnicity, or are they values and ideals that cross the boundaries of form?

These are the questions I ask myself as I watch the world news. Surely a mother down on her knees wailing at the sight of a collapsed school building in earthquake-ravaged China is no different than the aggrieved father searching desperately for his children in cyclone-stricken Myanmar, who cannot in my mind be distinguished from the traumatized grandmother clutching pictures of her grandchildren to her breast as rescue workers look for survivors in the tornado-ripped heartland of America, any more than those people's cries are different than those of a mother in Darfur lifting her child up to a UN truck begging for mercy… or Baghdad's suicide bomber-embattled children wondering where their parents are after an explosion.

Then is there any difference between the people mentioned above and their losses than that of the inner city mom standing over her shot teenager calling on the Lord for mercy, than there would be for the suburban mother who has just learned that her teen has tragically wrapped their car around a tree on prom night and didn't make it? Images, images… oh, we have all seen them, paused, and held our palms against our hearts when we have. Maybe we've said a silent prayer for those people caught in the grip of tragedy because we can identify with their pain. For that glimmer in time, we don't see differences; we see the feelings and emotions of our fellow man and woman.

If we are really thinking, feeling members of humanity, we are called upon to reach down into our souls to ask fundamental questions. Can one deny that the waters of Katrina or those of the dreadful tsunami refused to delineate between religion, ethnic heritage, age, or gender? Did helpers who scrambled to assist survivors weep less for an orphaned child because of that child's hue? That's not what we saw during and after the 9-11 disaster. We saw people of all races and origins rushing in to help, some even giving their lives for strangers. We saw love sublime, strangers helping strangers, just because it was the right thing to do.

Therefore, it seems that the only logical conclusion one can come to is that love, hope, passion, pain, suffering… all these things are a condition of being human, and are not conditional upon what type of human one happens to be according to labels. A baby crying pulls at one's core, no matter what ethnic group that child was born into by the accident of birth… laughing children have that same effect. Tears shed for a profound loss also move us and break down walls. But if tragedies are so compelling, then let's step back for a moment and peel away the layers to consider one additional level of awareness. If we can understand the cries that follow a bridge collapse in Minnesota, and/or any number of horrific events that have happened, why can't we understand the colorblind nature of love?

It is one of the greatest conundrums in the world, in my opinion—because if people are laid prostrate from a loss of a loved one, doesn't that mean that they had to love whomever the tragedy befell? Doesn't that mean they loved their child just as you would love your child… that they loved their parent or spouse or friend or partner just as you would have loved yours? If we accept that as truth, then how can we regulate love to an artificial parameter like race, when we've just gone around the globe in this small exercise of recalling current events to show that all people have been touched by loss (which means they have also all been touched by love)?

For how can you have loved deeply and not weep when you have lost? It wouldn't matter, then. You'd remain dry-eyed and stoic. But that's just it. We've seen communities and families devastated and the pain of that spread out in roiling waves that effect us, even a half a world away while watching the news. Thus we can only conclude that where the tragedy hit, people were connected to others that loved them, and once the victims were no longer in the world, that bitter reality created indelible suffering for someone who cared that they were alive.

With that as a premise, rather than wait for a disaster or an act of God to create a glaring media frenzy to show just how human we are, why not embrace love for all people when the skies are clear and calm, when the waters have receded, when the shelling has stopped, and while there is laughter in our midst? Love is joy. Love is freedom. Love is hope. It is something that we all deserve and is provided for in abundance in the universe and on our planet, like air, as an ultimate act of God.

I personally believe in love and light… and the indomitable human spirit. I believe in hope and grace and caring, and in heroes and sheroes, maybe that's why I write about them... just as I believe in a Higher Power that levels the playing field, eventually… and I believe in angels. Most of all, perhaps, I believe in the ability of people to change for the better, to open their hearts and to receive the greatest power in the universe (and to use it for good)… and that is the power of love.

Peace and Stay in the Light!

~ L.A. Banks

The Merry Masturbatory Month of May

Erotique, a fast-paced, sex-soaked short story, is free to read on Goodreads throughout National Masturbation Month! Write a Goodreads review & be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift card (to be announced on June 1, 2011).

BLURB:

BOOK #1 of ARTIFACTUAL

Mandy stands to inherit the family legacy--a famous Philadelphia adult toy store and museum called Erotique--but she first has to meet the terms of the will and spend the night. With the help of her best friend, Bruce, she soon discovers the exhibits are VERY educational and her feelings for Bruce run deeper than she realized.

Hate Male

This gem appeared in my inbox this morning, and I just couldn't keep it to myself. Apparently this individual is unable to distinguish between narrative nonfiction and 1st person POV fiction. He is also quite defensive, isn't he? Enjoy...

* * *

Dear 'Whomever has the guts to read my comment in its entirety' (I'm not holding my breath):

In the posted excerpt from DOUBLE DECKER PP-034, PURPLE PROSAIC, JANUARY 2010, I was ASTOUNDED to read the following:

"Now, I’m not one of those dykes who won’t touch a woman who’s touched a dick, but there’s quite enough drama in lesbian circles without bringing Buffy and her angry ex-boyfriend—the one with the Chevy Silverado sporting a Confederate flag and a loaded gun rack—into the mix. The last time I dabbled in that kind of pussy, I wound up having to send a linebacker to the E.R. with a busted tibia. Those steel-toed boots do come in handy on occasion."

Drama? HOLY SHIT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Please forgive me for HURLING in disgust, but I find that the author's claim of hospitalizing an ex-high school football star/local-yokel-hick by breaking his leg with a single, powerhouse kick of her steel-toed boot to be A HUGE, STEAMING PILE OF SHIT!!!

Why do so many lesbians insist on espousing their IMAGINARY propensity for physical violence against males, to the point where they will LIE LIKE HELL in an attempt to glorify themselves into somebody they are not? It's just so fucking lame! You aren't fooling anyone with that crap, and you certainly aren't endearing yourself to anyone except other mega-angry lesbians with similar bullshit fantasies. All you have accomplished is to tell me that you have have deep-seated emotional problems and need a fucking shrink (what a shocker).

Why can't you just write about seducing and fucking one another without LYING YOUR ASS OFF about how street-tough and animalistic you IMAGINE yourself to be? I don't think you can - because you and your ilk apparently come (cum) as 'package deals' - super-butch and pretentiously bad/tough/cool. Try as you might, you will NEVER be James Dean…or Marlon Brando…or any other street-tough!

Think about it for a minute: In just a few sentences, the author comes across as immensely dumber and even more testosterone-soaked than the idiot redneck she ALLEGEDLY dropped with her Herman's Survivors super-kick to his shin! IT'S SUCH BULLSHIT...AND SHE KNOWS IT!

If you angry dykes insist upon BLAH-BLAHING about how important it is to 'be yourself' (as the author notes a few sentences earlier in the excerpt), then fucking be yourself, instead of pretending to be some fantastic super dyke hero with both the mindful vengeance and ovaries to pull-off such an idiotic, 'Barbie Bad-Ass' wet dream!

Get bent,

Big Al
Reston, VA

Step on a Crack

From the lofty vantage of my late 40s, I can survey the depth and breadth of my sexual knowledge at each stage of my journey. When I look back at what I was taught by the authority figures in my young life, namely my mother and the Roman Catholic Church, it makes me shudder. To have escaped that indoctrination without a lifetime of crippling sexual hang-ups is, indeed, a miracle.

I'm still learning. Sex is fascinating on many levels. I know now that sex drive, being one of the most powerful forces known to nature, is used by organized religions and others, both individuals and groups, in an attempt to control. Young or old. Male or female or anything in between. Unbridled passions are anathema to those who know what's best for you. (You, after all, cannot be trusted to know what's right for yourself. You are, if you listen to them, weak and unworthy.) As a child, however, I lacked this insight.

Fortunately, I was born a rebel. A strong and worthy rebel. I am ever thankful that nature allowed the deeply recessive gene to surface in me. It certainly was not evident in any branches of the family tree that I could see.

When it comes to sex (no pun intended), I started young. Very young. I recall my first orgasm at 10, although I had no clue what it was called at that time. I just knew it felt good. I also knew my mother wouldn't approve. My childhood memories do not include any of my mother's laughter. None. I remember only her stress; her worry that I would "lay down" with boys, that I would get "a reputation," that I would cause "tongues to wag." My mother didn't approve of anything that involved touching your private parts. My brother & I were required to use a wash cloth for bathing so that we didn't have to touch ourselves. Yes, I'm serious.

That first orgasm was the result of masturbation, although I didn't know that word at the time, either. My bestest childhood friend turned me on to it, so to speak. How she discovered that scooting her pre-pubescent, cotton panty-clad crotch against the spinning fuzzy shoe-polishing machine, I do not know. Maybe someday I'll ask her.

I don't think much more than a day or two passed during my fifth grade year when she & I didn't simultaneously polish our pussies on that delightful dual-sided device. We called our orgasms "trances" and often competed to be the first to reach that state. The times that we "peed" a little bit in the process... well, those trances were even better. Our ignorance was magical.

It wasn't much longer before we abandoned the electrical device and sought our trances with one another. Although I knew I had to hide my activities from my mother, I felt no guilt, no shame. I assumed my mother was the one who was twisted, that I was normal. The concept of sin simply did not register sexually in the way it did with things like theft or murder or lying.

Fast forward a year. Sixth grade. I got my menses -- and breasts! While I had not yet achieved a "trance" with a boy, it wasn't for lack of trying. I can think of at least four boys who dipped their fingers into my honey that fall during high school football games. There were probably more, given that there were at least six home games each season, or maybe one or two of them had an encore. We'd sneak across the street and duck between the cars parked on the elementary school playground. There, on the crushed grass where kids played dodge ball during the day, I allowed George, Keith, and the Scott twins to finger me. None on the same night, mind you. I wasn't that progressive... yet.

My mother gave me a pamphlet about sex that year, shortly after I started my period. It was published by the Roman Catholic Church. Amidst the basic biology, it delivered dire warnings about sins of the flesh. Not only was I not to allow anyone else to touch me, I was not to touch myself. If I felt sinful impulses, I was to pray. Just pray. Well, I knew a faster and more effective way to make the "sinful" impulses subside... for a little while, anyway.

My seventh grade year was dominated by a new-to-me sensation: desire. Not desire for orgasm, with which I was already quite familiar, but desire for a specific person. Keith was the proverbial "bad boy" in the neighborhood. He was bigger than the other boys in my school, having been held back at least one grade. He smoked cigarettes and weed. He shaved. He had chest hair. He was a worldly rebel with a mysterious much older brother who told him stories about all sorts of naughtiness. I think, in hindsight, this older brother was probably in jail somewhere. I never saw him. My father threatened Keith's life on more than one occasion.

By 1976, my mother had taken to going to early Sunday morning mass. My brother & I were given the option of either attending mass Saturday evenings or later on Sunday mornings. He chose the former. I, the latter. Keith's house sat smack dab in the middle of the quarter-mile walk between my house and the church. I rarely made it past that point. I'd slip into his house, often mere seconds after his parents left for church, and into his bed almost every Sunday morning for a year.

I'm not sure how I managed to not get caught, but I am absolutely certain I learned more at Keith's house on Sunday mornings than I ever would have at church. Those lessons included my first orgasm with a boy, my first tactile exploration of a bare penis, and the first time I felt the electrifying sensation of a tongue against my clitoris. I also learned how much information was omitted from or misrepresented in that pamphlet my mother had given me. Nowhere in that publication was there any indication that sex could feel so damned good. How, I wondered, could they possibly miss that?

It didn't occur to me – at the tender age of twelve – that a church could be disingenuous; that it would intentionally seek to mislead its flock. I naively believed that religions were paragons of the virtues they espoused.

A year later, flat on my back under a tree on the dark riverbank with a gorgeous long-haired stranger several years older and several times stronger, I felt my first twinges of sexual fear. He was clearly intending to have intercourse, and I wasn't at all confident he'd take no for an answer. I wasn't overly protective of my virginity, but I didn't want to lose it like that: outside, cold, uncomfortable, and with someone I barely knew. He could've taken what he wanted from me, but he didn't. He was quite gracious, in fact. Almost gallant in his disappointment. Until that experience, I'd never heard the word rape or considered the possibility that sex could be anything but consensual and enjoyable for all involved. My once magical ignorance had become dangerous.

That loss of emotional innocence was far more profound to me than the loss of my physical virginity some six years later with a boy I dearly loved in the warmth and safety of his bed and his arms. I hated the introduction of fear into an area of my life that had, until that point, been nothing but fun & frolic. It really pissed me off, though I lacked the means to capture & express these feelings.

Did this potentially disastrous experience change my sexual behavior? Yes and no. I still had a hearty appetite for pleasure, but I turned my attentions back to their origins. Girls seemed safer. I could defend myself against another girl. The playing field was leveler and our topographies similar. I knew the turf. It surprised me to learn that not all girls wanted to fool around with other girls. What was this madness?

I look back on those critical, sexually formative years, and it's a marvel I emerged unscathed. They were, I think, somewhat less treacherous times. HIV and AIDS were a few years from interfering with our bliss. "Protection" simply referred to birth control.

Throughout my pre-teen and teenage years, there was no adult authority figure with whom I could discuss my experiences. Not one. The Internet was a couple decades from its maturity, and printed reference material was – as far as I knew – limited to dry, clinical publications & grossly misleading church pamphlets. There wasn't anyone to ask about the fluid that dampened my panties, about vibrators or other toys, about swallowing semen, about having sex during my period.

Luckily – and it was most definitely luck – I never got pregnant unintentionally, contracted an STD, or was raped, even though my college years were full of wild behaviors. Trial and error is not how I want my children to learn about sex. Nor do I want their sex ed limited to the dry mechanics of procreation. I don't expect them to bring their questions to me, even though I've tried to make it clear I'm receptive. I'm mom. It's awkward. I know this. That's why I'm glad there are resources like Scarleteen readily available online where they can get frank answers anonymously. They could use your support. Please donate if you have the means. Spreading the word & linking to them helps as well (and costs you nothing but a few minutes of your time).

peace & passion,

~ Alessia Brio

Author Beware

There's not much that pisses me off more than hypocrisy. When a frank, honest post to a publisher's closed author loop is removed from the message archives because it disagrees with what the publisher wants the authors to believe, I see red.

Y'see, there was a thread of discussion about the payment of royalties. The publisher has traditionally paid monthly (late, per my contract terms, but monthly nonetheless). The publisher has also repeatedly claimed that its contracts stipulate quarterly payments. Recently, the publisher announced that it would be transitioning to quarterly payments. Okay, fine. That's certainly the publisher's prerogative. Renegotiate contracts, as needed, and implement change. No problem, right?

When a question was asked by an author, another author replied that the contracts stipulated payment 60 days after the end of the period. I pulled up my contracts to check and each clearly specifies payment 45 days after the end of the MONTH. Not 60. 45! And not QUARTER. MONTH!

I posted a reply to that effect. It contained no bolding, no "shouting" in all caps (as I've done above). It simply stated what my contracts said along with the fact that I've not been asked to sign any modifications to my contracts.

That post has been unceremoniously deleted from the Yahoo!Groups message archives. The publisher then posted that "Some older contracts stipulated 45 days after quarter ends." Perhaps some do. But some (e.g. mine) of the older contracts (And, "older" equates to 2008, by the way.) say: "Royalty statements are produced monthly within forty-five (45) days after the end of each sale month."

I'm not going to speculate on the reasons for this censorship. I'm not going to make assumptions about the fiscal health of the publisher. I'm simply putting the facts out there for authors to decide for themselves whether they wish to do business with a publisher who operates in this fashion.

I pulled most of my works of fiction from this publisher's catalog in January 2010 due to the persistent discrepancy between what my contracts stipulated and when the publisher reported and disbursed royalties. I was quiet about it. I didn't make a fuss. I did not want to publisher to experience any backlash from my decision. Some folks did inquire privately, and I couched my replies very cautiously. I still have a vested interest in the success of this publisher, after all, because all of the publications for which I did cover art and/or editing pay an ongoing royalty. I want it to succeed. I cannot, however, remain silent in the face of this sort of unethical practice.

Interestingly, my contract for cover art does specify quarterly payments, and I was willing to continue in my role as art director for this publisher. The publisher, however, chose a knee-jerk reaction and ousted me from that position. I was a bit stunned by that seemingly churlish & puerile move, but... well, whatever. At the time, it simply served to reinforce the wisdom of my decision.

This latest behavior will result in the removal of my remaining work from the publisher's catalog. I apologize to the other authors who are impacted. I do not feel I have any alternative but to distance myself to the maximum extent possible.

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

A New Interview

I recently responded to a request rec'd via my website's "contact me" form from a new review site preparing to launch, Deviant Divas. I completed an interview and submitted a book (Ripe) for review. The interview & review were posted on July 4th, which I learned only after a Google Alert notified me. You can read the interview HERE. (Do try to overlook the typos in the interview questions. I suppressed the urge to edit them while completing the interview.) The review (and I use the term lightly) can be read in one sentence, which I'll paste below. I kid you not. One sentence. One sentence in need of editing, at that!

"Alessia Brio's Ripe is a fast pace action short story with an erotic twist."

That's it. The entire review. At least they spelled my name right. Live & learn, eh?

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

T-T-T-T-T-T-TOUCH ME…

This is a guest blog post I made for Lisabet Sarai's blog, Beyond Romance, in January. Since my goal for the summer is the organization & backup of my digital bounty (books, music, fonts, images, video), I thought it was worth re-posting here. Posterity 'n all, y'know.

Have a great summer, y'all.

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

+++

First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.

~ Mahatma Gandhi

I hesitated with regard to writing yet another blog post about Publishing (with a capital P), publishing, epublishing, and self-publishing. You can’t spit without hitting one in the e-neighborhood these days, some with robust and often vitriolic discussions taking place in the comments. They’re all variations on the same theme: the antiquated business model struggles for survival in the face of changing market. (Yawn.) Adapt or perish. The End.

Yet it is the industry and those changes that currently occupy my attention as I strive to find my niche. (Niche being defined as that which enables me to indulge my creative impulses while simultaneously providing an income to feed my baser needs for food and shelter.) The resistance to change, especially within a system that was once profitable, is understandable. Corporations – like people – cling to what has been successful in the past. It’s safe and comfortable. Change is scary.

And, in the case of books, that level of safety is in the tangible. Tangible is comforting. It can be stroked, fondled, ogled. We can point to hoarded stuff and proclaim, “Behold, my bounty!” Not so easy to do with digital assets.

At one time in our not-so-distant past, the vast majority of business transactions involved an exchange of tangible goods: gold for land, livestock for slaves, cotton for woven cloth. Books.

We, both consumers and suppliers, do not quite know how to treat the intangible product, how to appreciate its value, how to stroke it. It's a relatively new concept in terms of civilization. It requires a level of trust and a shift in focus.

That started my wheels turning about money and the progression from a cash-only consumer base to one that is now predominantly credit/debit-based.

Money lenders have been around for a long time, so banking is nothing new. People were initially wary of storing assets in one physical location to protect them from theft.

Convenience won them over.

Yet, it took well over a millennium for the notion of the withdrawal of assets from a different physical location to catch on. Networks of financial institutions. Distributed assets. Distributed risks.

Convenience won them over.

With technological advances in communication, came the ability to rapidly confirm the availability of consumer assets and the introduction of the handwritten check. A modern IOU. It, too, was slow to gain acceptance. Yet it was still, in one sense, tangible.

Computers made cash transactions unnecessary. Even so, there was considerable consumer resistance to the use of credit cards. They were electronic. There was nothing to be fondled.

They were also easy… and fast. No delays while checks cleared. No waiting for payday.

Convenience won them over. 

 

With the financial structure in place, the emergence of digital products was the next step in our electronic evolution. First, music. Vinyl cedes to magnetic tape which, in turn, cedes to compact disc. Still tangible, but stored on electronic media. And portable!

Convenience won them over.

Digital storage made it possible for consumers to own and enjoy movies in the comfort and privacy of their homes. The porn industry exploded. The Internet made it all available at the click of a mouse.

Convenience won them over.

Digital photography enabled folks to take virtually unlimited pictures without the expense of both film and developing and… waiting. Instant electronic gratification.

One by one our forms of recorded art and entertainment transitioned to the electronic as convenience and pragmatism replaced the ingrained need for a tangible thing.

Books are no exception. In time, the tangible book will cede to its digital form. The industry will conserve resources, reduce (if not eliminate) printing expenses, and repurpose vast amounts of physical storage space. And yet books will be more accessible than ever before.

The difference is that, this time around, consumers are demanding the shift rather than having it driven by the industry. Perhaps it’s due to my vantage, but in the past, it seemed to be the industry saying to the reluctant consumer: "Try this! You'll like it. It's nifty neat-o better than sliced bread yadda yadda." With ebooks and their related gadgetry, it's the consumers saying to a reluctant industry: "Make this! We want it. Now!"

It can't happen soon enough for me. If my work touches hearts and souls and libidos, I've achieved my goal. Having it packaged in an efficient, effective, environmentally-conscious fashion is just icing on my e-cake.

Happy New Year, y'all!

peace & passion,

~ Alessia

My first audiobook release!

It's HERE! Audiolark has released "Wetter Has Never Been Better" as an audiobook. I listened to the 90-minute adaptation last week, and it was fascinating to hear another person read my words. Just $5.99 for the download. Put it on your MP3 player and listen in (or out of) the bathtub for some hot, wet fun in the Costa Rican rain.

Sapphistocated Review

Evie's Whispered Words has reviewed the EPPIE finalist + GCLS finalist anthology, Sapphistocated.

This anthology is comprised of four short stories by four talented authors. My personal favourite from this collection was the first story, Double Decker by Alessia Brio. It's the story of a young butch lesbian named Tess who is seeking to win not only a Kareoke Contest but the heart of the woman of her dreams. This one had me flicking through my cd collection to listen to some old favourites. I felt immersed in Tess's world and was anxious when she was anxious and excited when she was excited, and found myself sorry when the story ended. I think I'll check out some more of Alessia's work soon and I am going to have to remember the term "SOL day".

I bought one...

...with the money I'd budgeted for EPICon (which I had to cancel 'cause of scheduling conflicts). The ad is rather melodramatic, but the device capabilities are really quite cool. I've barely had time to play with it, but I look forward to the exploration.




peace & passion,

~ Alessia

Two Lips Reviews San Diego Sunset

5 kisses and a "Fantastic!" for San Diego Sunset from Sheila at Two Lips Reviews:

I loved the anticipation the authors built up in this story. Both have the dream. Both are searching. Both believe they have found the place, but will they find the person?

The ending of San Diego Sunset is perfect. I didn’t want explanations. I wanted the expectations fulfilled. And they were. Fantastic!

Read the entire review HERE.