J is for Johnson

I wish I could remember which actor said that the word “Johnson” cracked him up. Every time he heard it, he just collapsed in fits of humor.

Well, it’s not that funny, but it is pretty amusing. How did penis come to claim the moniker, “Johnson.” You know, like in “Don’t be starin’ at my Johnson.” Or “He had a substantial Johnson and knew how to use it.”

I’m a word guy--but you knew that, right? Etymologies fascinate me. I took Greek in college because I was intrigued by breaking a code. (I am a reincarnated cryptographer from WWII, you know.)

I was the only NON pre-law/pre-med student taking a course called Greek and Latin Words in English. Fascinating!

My favorite wedding present was a dictionary. And my favorite Christmas present EVER was a copy of The Professor and the Madman (the making of the OED) accompanied by the compact OED!

Some words titillate (Is that etymologically related to “tits”? Answer: No), and we might call them “dirty”, “smutty”, or some other pejorative. But honestly, words are words. We impute meaning--connotation and denotation--but words are just words.

So back to Johnson. Where did it come from and why is it a synonym for penis? (Penis by the way hails to us from Latin and Greek and back to Indo-European meaning “tail”. Apt, eh?)

No one is quite sure how Johnson came into being, but theories abound.

In 19^th century the term “John Thomas” came into British slang meaning penis. Some think Johnson derives from that.

Or was it from these more-likely-apochryphal usages: Large brake lever on a steam engine? Some say it is tribute to Dr. Samuel Johnson since there was “no one he was not prepared to stand up to.” It was meant to be a synonym for “membrum virile”. Or perhaps as recognition of the star of “Miami Vice”, Don Johnson, a sex-ay guy!

Whatever! With etymology, the fun is in the hunt. Hold onto your Johnson for the ride!

I is for Interview

An interview with Harlan Ledbetter, hero in Streetwalker, published by Sizzler Editions, 2013.

Me:                  Welcome, Harlan, to “Romance Righter”. You’ve had quite a busy

winter and spring, getting ready for publication, haven’t you?

Harlan:          Yes, Angelica. It has been busy. Thanks for having me today.

Me:                   I just did a post yesterday for the letter H, Harlan. It didn’t stand

for your name, but it might have. I wrote yesterday about hunks.

Harlan:         Ha ha! (scrubbing at his short dark hair). That’s funny, Angelica. I

never saw myself that way.

Me:                  Seriously? You absolutely would be considered a hunk by many.

Tall, spare. Cocoa skin and eyes, short curly hair. You’re fit and

all about staying healthy. What’s that really about?

Harlan:          Everyone should be concerned about maintaining a fit body, fueled

by healthful foods, Angelica. You get maximum performance that

way. And I do like to perform. (chuckles)

Me:                  (Laughing) Well, I guess when your “girls” work as hard as they do,

that makes some sense. So how did a guy like you end up as the

male madam in a whorehouse?

Harlan:         I don’t really see myself or my business establishment like that. So

cheap, isn’t it? Cachonda is not cheap. Our clientele, among the richest and most powerful in New York City, seek only to relax and relieve stress as a small break from their high-profile careers.

Me:                  So you’re in the service industry--so to speak.

Harlan:         So to speak.

Me:                  Answer the question asked. How did you end up owning a pleasure

palace? On the Upper East Side, no less?

Harlan:         I was a gyno guy, and very good at what I did. I started specialty work in sexual dysfunction, and the medical profession took exception to my methods, so I, ah, pursued another line of work.

Me:                  Ah! So being close to female parts is important to you?

Harlan:         Nay. Dare I say, essential?

Me:          (Lauging) Okey dokey! I guess folks will just have to get the details in Streetwalker, soon to be released by Sizzler Editions. Thanks for coming (so to speak) by today!

H is for Hunk

What makes a man a hunk? One dictionary defines it as “a sexually attractive man, especially a large, strong one”. Romance novels are chuck full of them. I mean, would anyone have been interested in the Clark Kent story?

Hello! It’s the Superman persona that brought him to our attention. Without Superman, Clark Kent is, well, like many guys we all know. Nice guys who rarely are appreciated because they go unnoticed. Nothing special distinguishes one from another.

I have noticed the esacalation of hunkiness as the social media systems become endemic. Daily Facebook pictures of “hunks”, muscles rippling, hands gripping, pop up on my screen with nothing to warn a girl to put down her coffee first.

There they are. Just letting it all (well, all but all) hang out. They challenge you with that stare the pierces you right down to your, umm, nether parts. A shift in chair position, and you’re ready to continue.

What is especially interesting to me is how some guys have parlayed “hunk” into a career. I guess Fabio, back in the day, was the first guy I noticed who flaunted his sexuality and made mainstream money doing so when so many others were crouched on dirty beds with a hand held camera filming their gymnastics. Fabio went flagrantly public and made his living in ads and on book covers.

He wasn’t to my taste. Maybe not hunky enough with blond hair longer than mine. I go for dark, short hair myself. I never got why girls want a guy in a ponytail, but then to each her own!

These days, hunks show a lot more than Fabio ever did, and they, too, are known names in certain circles. Jimmy Thomas is a name--or rather a body--that is swoon-making. He’s a certified, by 5000 cover images, Hunk.

G is for Gratitude and Grit

Dr. Martin E. P. Seligman has spent his professional life researching happiness. His latest book, Flourish: A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-being (2012) goes beyond what it takes to be “happy” to explore a new level; what it takes to “flourish”.

 

His five pillars of well-being, an aspect of “Positive Psychology”, includes Positive emotion, Engagement, Relationships, Meaning, and Accomplishment. PERMA is the basis for those who aren’t just happy, but those who flourish!

 

He identifies seven traits of those who flourish: curiosity, optimism, self-control, social interaction, zest, gratitude, and grit.

 

It’s interesting to observe how Carrie, my protagonist in Streetwalker, incorporates those traits. She moved into Harlan Ledbetter’s Upper East Side bordello, and she flourished, personally and professionally. While she is working on optimism still, for sure she demonstrates gratitude and grit.

 

She knows how fortunate she was to land where she did, when she did, with that particular male “madam”. She expresses her gratitude largely through deeds. Carrie works very hard to show Harlan he made the right decision. She knows that action, resulting in an improved bottom line, will demonstrate her appreciation.

 

And Carrie sticks with what she starts. She is always innovating and improving. She is highly analytical and continues to persevere despite the odds being against her. She demonstrates persistence and resilience, the bedrock features of grit, throughout the book.

 

Check out Streetwalker (coming soon from Sizzler Editions) to see How Carrie embodies gratitude and grit.

 

F is for Fling

Such a fun sounding word, fling is. How light-weight and temporary. Poppycock, and I use the pun advisedly. This Romance Righter is appalled by the casual fling.

 

Why the outrage? What’s the problem with a fling? Monogamy can get pretty damn boring. Maybe bringing some new tricks home can perk up life there, too. Maybe a fling, with the elements of danger, intrigue, and novelty will re-activate a tepid sex life.

 

Yeah, right. Look to thyself if you find yourself spouting bilge like that. Bored? Maybe your partner is, too? And just how do them apples sit in your tummy? What would your reaction be to discovering your partner had a harmless little fling? (I’ve got a tickler file on this one for later novel writing.)

 

Oh, you’re bored? You think you’re the only one bored? Don’t bet the farm on it. Boredom typically cuts both ways.

 

What is at risk is the trust of your partner. What is also at risk is whether or not another partner will trust you after knowing of your betrayal of someone else’s trust. Oh, and did I mention the likelihood (not possibility, but likelihood) of getting and passing along a STD?

 

Is a fling worth eroding trust, the bedrock, fundamental component of a relationship?

 

Don’t kid yourself. A fling is not harmless or without victims. The effects of a revealed fling can resonate way longer than the initial betrayal. You might just be flinging away a relationship for a temporary thrill. Rather, fling yourself back into the original relationship with renewed vigor and enthusiasm. Or do everyone a favor, and walk away before you hurt people even more.

E is for Edits

Warning: explicit text at the end; an excerpt from Streetwalker.

 

E is for Edits. Now how sexy is that? This is adult content? Well, when you write erotic romance, it can be tricky approaching people to be beta readers or giving manuscript pages to your critique group for edits and revisions. They’re such nice ladies. Respectable. One writes children’s stories. Sigh. And just where is YOUR mind???

 

 You hem. You haw. You say, “It’s really, really, really explicit. I will totally understand if you’d like to pass on editing. Or edit but not comment on the sex scenes.”

 

Still, they can’t quite believe it’s true. After all, you’re a mom, a grandma. Happily married. (Or, a thought niggles, is she? Another thought niggles their minds. I’ll bet HE’S happy.)

 

Really, how bad could it be, they wonder?

 

Umm. Really, really, really explicit.

 

I happen to love writing sex scenes, some more than others. Loving scenes are easy. Violent sex, brutal sex, callous sex--those are harder. Still, oddly enough, I find it easier to write the scenes than to use what my mother would call “bad language”. You know--f**k, sh*t, and variants thereof. Don’t you find that strange?

 

I know when I get edits back from my Sizzler Editions editor, Sascha Illyvich, he’s going to tell me Carrie sounds like a Sunday School teacher (well, not quite). And I am going to have to write words I never say aloud. Those edits have to happen for verisimilitude. I get it. But it won’t be comfortable. Sex? Great! Language? Uh oh!

 

Here’s how Streetwalker opens:

 

“Oh, Baby! Oh, yeah, Baby. Oooh, oooh, yeah, oooh. Unhhhhh!” The dock worker held her down while he screamed his release, his hot breath redolent with beer. The smell of diesel fuel on his hands sickened her, dandruff showered her face from patches of thinning hair as he hard-rode her, pinning her shoulders to the thin mattress. The biting jab of aching muscles meant she’d be swallowing another Flexeril after he left. Her skin split where his broken fingernails dug in. He threw back his head and jerked into her two more times before he collapsed, the bulk of him spilling onto the space on either side of her body.

Long ago, Carrie learned to go to “not here” during sex. She tolerated the body pumping into hers if she went somewhere else.

She looked down at his greasy hair covering her tits. She restrained herself from lifting off the dead weight of her john. She knew the rules. He initiated the withdrawal of his limp cock from her pummeled body. He owned her for the remainder of his fifteen minutes. Nine minutes to go.

She waited, still beneath him, afraid her stirring would get him going again. While waiting out her time, she rehearsed the steps of her escape from this hellhole of a whorehouse. After tonight, if it went as planned, everything would be different. No. More. Fucking. Ever. Ever. Again.

 

Edits anyone? You can do so in the comments section. And thanks!

D is for Danger

Did you ever notice that “danger” has “anger” in it? What does that say to you? When we’re talking relationships, chronic anger can be a deal-breaker.

 

As Romance Righter on Twitter (@RomanceRighter), I sometimes get questions from Tweeps about relationship issues. I try to answer them in a practical, commonsense way. Here’s what I have to say about anger and danger.

 

Anger is a normal human reaction to certain situations. A little anger, once cleared away, can lead to great make-up sex. Or not. But anger in itself is not danger. Chronic anger is.

 

What are the deal-breaker anger signs? From my perspective as a student of human nature and as one who has read lots and lots about what makes relationships healthy or unhealthy (dangerous), I have three signs for deal-breaker anger danger. If your relationship has even one of them, please consider ending the relationship. Run, don’t walk, to the closest exit out of the dangerous person’s life.

 

1)   If he/she EVER puts hands on you in anger, even if apologies follow, this signals danger.

2)   If he/she in anger ever emotionally targets you to humiliate, embarrass, or demean, this signals danger.

3)   If he/she, while angry, talks about wanting to hurt you physically, even if it doesn’t happen, this signals danger.

 

Sometimes chronically angry people try to smooth things over by giving you presents or assurances or apologies. If this happens frequently, end the relationship.

 

Don’t risk association with toxic people. Chronically angry folks are destructive of their own souls and those around them. Don’t put your mental or physical health in danger by staying with them.