I’m honored to have played a role in getting his story published, by encouraging him to write it down and also helping him find an agent, but even more so, to have grown closer to him in the last few years, especially around the topic of writing. For many of my peers, we are the last generation who will have significant adult relationships with our grandparents; unless there are huge advancements in technology, I highly doubt I’ll be around to hang out with my grandkids (I’m 33 and haven’t popped out any kids yet), and that’s a sad thing, both for me and for them.

I’ve never thougth that simply because people are related by blood they will automatically get along; there is a kinship, yes, but that doesn’t mean you will have anything more in common. Certainly, I have plenty of family members who I love but don’t feel like I truly know (or vice versa). Thankfully, with both of my remaining grandparents, I do have much more than a cursory connection. The fact that my grandfather is a writer I think has bonded us in a way that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.

Out of all the members of my family, he along with one of my uncles, has been the most supportive, adn for that I"m incredibly grateful. I know that while the rest of my family is proud of my accomplishments, the fact that my books are called things like Best Sex Writing 2009 and Spanked is something they’d rather other people not know. I cringe when interviewers ask the question, "What do your parents think about your career?" because I’d like to think I’m old enough to be beyond caring about that.

Lately, my grandfather has taken to asking my advice about his book’s publicity and signings: What kind of pen should he use to sign books? Should he hire a publicist? What’s the advantage of doing a reading at a library? I don’t always have the answers, but I feel honored every time he comes to me thinking I do. That is a sign that even though my writings may be of the more racy variety, it doesn’t matter; he respects that I know a thing or two about book pubilcity and promotion, and that is more exciting to me than even the lowest of Amazon rankings (which, um, I check way more often than I should).

My grandfather is also a daily reader of my blog, Lusty Lady, and I’d be lying if I said that hasn’t changed how I approach it. I don’t obsess over what I post, but knowing that he is readnig often gives me pause, not so much about my dating life as revelations that might make him worry about me. While sometimes it amkes me uncomfortable to know that he has that much isnight into my daily comigns and goings, I’m honored that he cares enough to pay that close attention. He’s also given me insight into my relationship with my father, and my father’s relationship to him.

My other living grandparent, my grandmother (on my mother’s side), is also incredibly special to me. We spent a lot of time together when I was growing up and she’d babysit every week. Now, as an adult, I can see how certain traits I’ve shared with her have skipped over my mom. My grandmother and I are much more into clothes and makeup, and are more than happy to spend a day at the Danbury Mall (well, my grandmother goes almost every day), while I think my mom would max out on mall shopping in about an hour.

I just spent a few days with her and it was fascinating to see her daily rituals; she (inexplicably to me) loves the show Two and a Half Men and even though she’s into fine clothes and jewelery, she extols the deliciousness of McDonalds’ yogurt parfait (her daily breakfast treat). I always trot out the fact that she saw The Beatles perform and once helped me dye my hair purple as examples of her coolness, but it’s much more than that. She’s a gossip lifeline in our family, keeping tabs on all of us and duly reporting the latest news to the others via telephone.

Getting the chance to see my grandparents not as my grandparents per se, but as individuals with their own sets of intersets and histories and quirks is something I’m thankful for. I regret that I wasn’t able to appreciate them from a less selfish perspective when I was younger but try my best now to be an active part of their lives, via email, phone calls and visits. While I’m fairly close with my parents as well, these relationships are different. There isn’t the same frustration I too often have with my parents, the maddening feeling of automatically being a teenager again. They’re both 85, so I know I won’t have them around forever, but I am learning from to appreciate and learn from the time we do have.

Rachel Kramer Bussel is the editor of 24 anthologies, Dating Drama columnist for TheFrisky.com, and host of In The Flesh Reading Series in New York City.  She spent the past week guest blogging on Jewcy.com.  This is her parting post.

The post Appreciating My Grandparents, As An Adult appeared first on Jewcy.

When I first read that, I thought, how spoiled. How annoying. And then, like most things that annoy me, I realized that it annoyed me precisely because I do the exact same thing. I am not stoic and humble, strong and silent. My natural urge, when things are going well or they’re decidedly not, is to write about it. How else to explain most of my Twitter stream, where I can be vound venting about the evil that is the L train and the MTA, my annoying cold, or some other frustration?

Today, I slept fitfully and woke up woozy, my head heavy and pounding, sick and not yet packed for my trip to St. Louis. I was stressed because my passport, my only official form of photo ID, expired two days ago, and apparently the TSA has tightened its rules about traveling with expired ID (it worked out okay for me, there’s a grace period). I’ve been stressed about the passport for weeks but only in the last few days did I look into what I have to do to replace it. All this even though last year, I wound up traveling to London on an expired passport, and wasn’t allowed to return home without getting a 1-year renewal. (See, kvetching already!)

Since reading Orenstein’s words, though, I’ve been trying to watch myself, to catch myself in the act of complaining, because I know from being on the receiving end from family, friends and lovers, that it’s not useful. I tend to feel sorry for myself when things go awry, to leap to the worst case scenario in my head immediately, and only when I’ve truly hit rock bottom, try to figure out a way out of my messes. When your world feels like it’s falilng apart–your heart’s been broken, you’ve gotten laid off, you’re in debt, whatever–complaining seems like it’s the equivalent of taking action. It’s doing something. It’s getting things off your chest.

But really, it’s not. It’s passive rather than aggressive. Intead of telling my friends that I often want to move just so I won’t have to suffer the L train anymore, I should be writing to the MTA and telling them how inept they are at informing their customers of late-night train changes. Instead of feeling like I will forever be under the thumb of Sallie Mae due to a three-year mistake called NYU Law School, I should be looking into ways to invest and save money, rather than prowling bookstores and clothing boutiques on my way home.

I think so many behaviors, like the ones Orenstein is talking about, seem comforting to us when we engage in them, but horrific when others do. They keep us in a suspended state of anger and despair rather than helping us assess the situation, self-made or not, and plan a way out of it. I try to look to the people I know who, while their lives are not always smooth sailing, project both confidence and dynamism, who are all about moving forward rather than staying stuck.

Also, if what Orenstein says is true, I don’t want to simply succumb to a stereotype of some neurotic, whiny Jew. At the same time, I think documenting our daily ups and downs is a powerful act, as Orenstein demonstrates. Her multiple miscarriages and spirited quest to become a mother are moving precisely because we know how much work it took for her, the constant uphill battle.

Then again, kvetching has its fans, such as Dr. Barbara Held, author of Stop Smiling, Start Kvetching: A 5-Step Guide to Creative Complaining. I will give her one thing: she made me laugh, especially because I thought her site, Kvetching.com, was a joke!

Maybe kvetching isn’t really so bad, as long as it’s done in moderation, and to a rotating cast of people, so the main listeners don’t get too sick of you. Still, I want to try to nip my kvetching in the bud, even that makes me just a little less Jewish.

Rachel Kramer Bussel, author of Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, is guest blogging on Jewcy, and she’ll be here all week. Stay tuned.

The post Is Kvetching a Natural Part of Jewish Culture? appeared first on Jewcy.

One common question I get is…what’s a book trailer?

Well, it’s like a movie trailer, but for a book, and in some ways, even more ingenious. Movies have way more buzz around them than books; it’s likely that even if you never plan to see, say, Revolutionary Road, you’ve heard about it, but not so much with books.

So book trailers are a way for authors to spread the word about their books using blogs, YouTube, and other video sharing sites.

I hired a friend of mine who I’d known from her own comedic videos for $500; that was the total budget for our shoot, and quite a bargain in the world of book trailers, I learned.

I had a few friends come over to a friend’s place one afternoon, and we proceeded to "act out" a few key scenes from the book.

Once concern I had is that even though my book is full of X-rated stories, I didn’t want my trailer to be. I was aiming for light, positive, fun, with a hint of naughtiness. My main goal in making the trailer was to let people who might otherwise never hear of a book like Spanked to know it existed. From there, they could go to the book’s blog and read story samples, or just keep watching the trailer.

We did some voiceovers and there was lots of giggling as we tried to come up with a variety of implements that I would get spanked with. In large part, it was an experiment, to see what would happen (I will soon find out if it paid off in sales, though that’s not the only reason to make one). The final product was one I was really pleased with. I got to get my personality across, tease the reader with the content of the book, and hopefully make them want to find out more about it. I also like that the one word that came up again and again in reactions to the book was "cute." That’s what I was going for. (Sorry, I’m not as smart as the fabulous Molly Crabapple and can’t figure out how to atually add the video here, but you can see it on YouTube.)

Reasons to make a book trailer: 1. To spread the word about your book, especially to those who don’t tend to buy books 2. To let you introduce yourself to your audience in ways type simply can’t 3. To have multimedia work samples on your website 4. Others can easily post it on their sites. 5. Because it’s fun!

What happened after we released the trailer was an unexpected bonus. My director uploaded it to four sites: Flickr, Vimeo, YouTube, and Blip. Within hours, Flickr had taken it down, and then Vimeo did the same, providing me with very little feedback. They claim they don’t allow commercial materials, yet if you look up book trailers on Vimeo, there are plenty there. There is no nudity in my trailer, and no cursing.

The story about Vimeo removing my video got me some bonus press, from Silicon Alley Insider and gossip site Jossip. I managed to meet my goal in totally unexpected ways! It’s now been viewed over 80,000 times on YouTube, which I consider a huge success.

Very soon, I plan to shoot new trailers, one in a hotel room for my hotel erotica book Do Not Disturb, and one, if I can find one to rent, on a private plane, for The Mile High Club. Neither will have nudity, but both will hopefully give a hint of what kind of material is in my book.

Based on my experience, I recommend hiring someone who knows what they’re doing, who’s good at troubleshooting, and understands your vision. Set a budget in advance, and if you’re working with a tiny budget, make sure you get your money’s worth. While some companies charge upwards of $5,000 or more, you can make your own. Poke around on YouTube or sites like Watch the Book or Book Trailers, or just use Google, to see a sample of what’s out there. As a reader, it can be fun to watch a book’s trailer after you’ve finished reading, to add to the reading experience. Book trailers should be short, to best capture the reader’s attention. Another one I really loved is for my friend Samara O’Shea’s Note to Self, about keeping a journal; she got her ex-boyfriend, who she writes about in the book (he found her journal chronicling her affair), to be in it!

You can watch’s Samara’s trailer here.

Rachel Kramer Bussel, author of Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, is guest blogging on Jewcy, and she’ll be here all week. Stay tuned.

The post How to Make a Book Trailer appeared first on Jewcy.

Before I officially start, a word of warning: some links may not be safe for work viewing.

Hi, I’m Rachel Kramer Bussel, and I write and edit smut. Or porn. Or erotica, whichever you choose. I don’t really care what you call the dirty stories in my books, and tend to think that those who press the porn vs. erotica question are simply looking to obscure the issue. The point of my books is to get people off, and hopefully along the way, make them think a little. Today I want to share how I went from an NYU Law student to the editor of 24 anthologies ranging from spanking to foot fetishes to exhibitionism to crossdressing. You could say it’s all because of Monica Lewinsky. She was the protagonist of my first published story, called “Monica and Me,” written circa 1999. It was a fantasy about, well, Monica and me, about what would happen if I (or rather, my narrator) met her at a booksigning. I took something true (my crush on her) and turned it into fiction for a book of celebrity sex fantasies called Starf*cker. That was just as I was leaving law school, uncertain about my future (I never graduated from law school). I went on to work at various administrative jobs, and kept on writing in my spare time. I wrote and submitted and erotica story every few months, many of them true, about my budding sexual explorations, and found getting published to be a thrill I fast became addicted to.

In 2004, I got offered a job as Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations, where I still work, and later went on to write the Lusty Lady sex column for The Village Voice and other nonfiction; I currently write the Dating Drama column for The Frisky. So dealing with sexual content, whether it’s about my life or fictional, has proven pretty easy for me.

Along the way, I started editing erotic anthologies of my own, based on ideas supplied by publishers. Now, I tend to come up with an idea for an anthology, then pitch my main publisher, Cleis Press. Sometimes we bat ideas around for a while, and other times, they go for it right away. Then I put out a call for submissions, and wait for stories to roll into my inbox. A recent review of my fellatio anthology Tasting Him: Oral Sex Stories, asked, “How could a collection of twenty-plus stories with such a narrow theme sustain any level of interest? And wouldn’t a focus on a single, physical sex act – fellatio – tend to move the content away from the psychological and emotional explorations that I view as the essence of erotica toward more superficial presentations reminiscent of bad porn?” What’s interesting to me is taking a theme, whether it’s a sexual act or a location (my upcoming books Do Not Disturb and The Mile High Club deal with sex in hotel rooms and on planes) and mixing it up. In other words, not going for the obvious. I like when authors dazzle me with a story that makes me rethink sex, that turns me on, even after having read thousands of stories. Maybe that means in the airplane book having cybersex via text message. Or exhibitionism via webcam. For my book on crossdressing, I had butches dressing as femmes and men wearing panties. What I’ve learned in my years of writing and editing smut is that anything can be eroticizedæseriously, anything. Sometimes I teach erotic writing workshops and two of the exercises are: write a story involving a chair, and write a story involving George W. Bush. I don’t assign those because I have a fetish for either, but because seeing where those prompts take people’s erotic imaginations spurs me on. Later this week, I’ll be sharing some erotic writing tips and some of my favorite non-erotic books from the past year. If you’re interested in writing erotica, I highly recommend checking out the site Erotica Readers & Writers Association. It’s the main resource I use and refer people to, and continually updates its list of calls for submission, as well as maintaining mailing lists and columns of interest to smut writers. What I love best about erotica is how democratic it is. Everyone has fantasies, whether or not they have or will ever act on them, and those can spur stories spanning the globe and the range of sexual acts. Plus, erotica is booming, even with the economy and state of the publishing industry, so there are numerous opportunities to get published, or to just expand your writing repertoire or write a love note to someone.

Many people get started in erotica writing about their own lives, whether true stories or barely embellished fantasies. But I don’t want you to think you have to write about your life to pen arousing erotica. Hardly. There are plenty of brilliant writers out there crafting outrageous, creative, and highly fictional stories that continue to wow me.

If you have questions about erotic writing you’d like to see me answer here, please feel free to drop me a line at rachelkramerbussel@gmail.com with “Jewcy” in the subject line. Later this week I’ll take you behind the scenes of my first book trailer shoot (for Spanked) and share my favorite books of 2008.

Rachel Kramer Bussel, author of Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, is guest blogging on Jewcy, and she’ll be here all week.  Stay tuned.

The post How I Went From an NYU Law Student to a Smut Writer appeared first on Jewcy.

Personally, I think this is great news — I love circumcised dicks. I didn’t realize this until last year, when I finally encountered a foreskin in the wilderness. Up until then, I thought uncut cocks were pretty much a fairy tale, something I had to Google for evidence that they actually existed. (I realize this is a distinctly American phenomenon; if I lived in Europe, I might very well have the opposite situation.) When I found that they are alive and well and even attached to hot guys, I realized that I’m not just inclined towards penises sans foreskin, I also actively dislike uncut ones.

And it has nothing to do with Judaism. Uncut cocks don’t look sexual or arousing to me. Rather, they make me want to pat them like a dog and tuck them back where they came from. This preference, which is much more definite than my feelings on the subject of height, hair color, religion or race, makes me feel quite shallow, but it’s unstoppable. If I had one of each kind in front of me to do a real side-by-side comparison, I could perhaps give a more thoughtful critique, but instead you’ll have to trust me. Which you should, since I’ve seen more than my fair share of penises. Only a small fraction of them were Jewish cocks, but all of them, as far as I can recall, had been cut.

Until last summer, when I found myself in the apartment of a man I’d been flirting with over email. Suddenly there it was, and I was faced with a dilemma I haven’t felt since I was a teenager: What to do? It seemed like a foreign creature, one that had only a vague resemblance to the organ I’d come to know and lust after.

Uncut cocks might be natural, but they seem like the very opposite to me. The foreskin gets in the way. It’s a pesky interference between me and what I really want. And it brings up every insecurity I have about sex.

I learned about sex — at least, heterosexual sex — from circumcised men. Give me a cut prick and I know what to do with it; I may not be the best a guy’s ever had, but I won’t be the worst. I know how to give a hand job or a blow job, and I like both those things. But the foreskin adds not only a literal extra layer, but a figurative one as well. I’ve been with two uncircumcised men now, and both times — even though we had a good time together and got each other off (though didn’t actually have intercourse) — I felt like a timid teenager. I felt like I needed Dr. Ruth leaning over my shoulder, showing me just where to stroke and pull. This kind of killed the mood.

I spent New Year’s in London with a British man who I’d met while he was visiting the States. Our initial hotel room trysts had been fast and furious, so I hadn’t truly had time to ponder what his cock looked like. When I found out, I was shaken up. Could I be attracted to the man, but not the penis? You can’t tell a man something like that. It’s like saying, “You’re too short, grow up already,” or that you wish he had heavy-metal band style long hair when he’s completely bald.

I’m not a man and am never going to be one, so I can’t speak to the experience of having a penis, but I can speak as someone who enjoys the sexual pleasures they can offer her. Being aroused by a lover happens not just when you’re together, but when you’re not. If the sex is good, it leaves you wanting more. It leaves you cooking up naughty scenes in your head. When you masturbate, he’s right there with you, the memory of his body so vivid it’s almost like the real thing, at least for me. If a guy’s cock turns me off, I won’t spend my free time fantasizing about it, even if the man himself makes me melt. It’s tough when I want to kiss every part of him but his penis.

And yet I wouldn’t reject a man simply based on the status of his foreskin. Recently I met a cute guy in an airport and wound up giving him a handjob under my coat. Because of the conspicuous nature of our surroundings, I never got to see his cock. He was from Costa Rica; I don’t know what the standard is there, but either way, I got him off. Maybe that’s the solution — if I wind up with a guy who’s uncut, I should just keep the lights off.

Counterpoint: In defense of foreskins

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Unleash Your Inner Pervert Persona Often people are reluctant to share their kinkiest fantasies, even to their lovers—the risk of rejection is too high. Not so online, where anonymity reduces the sting and makes it more likely that you’ll find someone into the same things you are. By creating a new temporary persona, you can try on genders, behaviors and kinks that in real life might freak you out. Find a chat room or use Second Life. Slap on a username, channel your sluttiest self, and go wild. You can be the bitch goddess you’ve always dreamed about, attend an orgy, or have sex in public…all from the safety and comfort of your laptop screen. It’s a chance to see how the other half lives and discover hidden desires within you.

Spend money on sex When it comes to sex, we’re notoriously cheap. Somehow, there’s the idea still floating around that good sex is “natural” and that paying for it can only mean prostitution. But by investing, literally, in sex—taking a class, buying a sex toy or a hot outfit, or some lube (guys, it’s way, way better than lotion or Vaseline or whatever else you may be using)— you’re saying that your sexual pleasure is worth a little cash. Check out Babeland, Blowfish, or Good Vibrations for a New Year’s shopping spree.

Get tested now Now that it only takes 20 minutes to find out your HIV status, there’s no excuse not to know. Worrying about whether or not you might be positive is not only bad for your health, it’s sure to impede your libido. If you’ve had unprotected sex, finding out will either ease your mind or allow you to start getting treatment. (The FDA has even approved a home test HIV kit.) Take it from me, having to tell a new partner it’s been a while and hearing them reply with a huffy “Great” makes you feel like the slut to end all sluts. Talk about a buzz kill.

Say “Yep, I’m kinky” The yes/no/maybe list is a staple of the BDSM community, but it’s just as useful for the most vanilla among us. Basically, you make a list of things you like or would like to do, things you’d never want to do, and things you might be into. For me, spanking would be a yes, fire play a no, and bondage a maybe. Writing them down will help you next time you’re in one of those iffy situations; I’ve sworn I won’t have sex on the first date, but actually following through is trickier. The list helps remind you of your values, and stick with what you know is a no.

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