Photo by Dollen

Hello Sexy! Ever wonder how to keep your sex toys safe? Or who has the best condom? Hmm? We at Lady Smut try to round-up the most pertinent blog posts of the week for you. Keeping it lively, entertaining, and just a little informative. Enjoy!

From Liz Everly

Is Apple the ringmaster in e-book price fixing?

Strong is the new skinny. Huzzah!

Rebuffed woman bites the penis of her boyfriend. Yep that’s right. As in give me some love or I’ll bite it off. heh.

Ever tried to have sex with a hornet’s nest? Why not? Maybe it’s not such a good idea (ya think?)–as one gent in Sweden found out.

From C. Margery Kempe

There’s a new issue of Safeword Magazine, full of fun stuff!

In spite of doom and gloom, the five biggest traditional publishing conglomerates all had healthy profit margins  in 2012–helped by ebook sales.

An Ingram exec says Barnes & Noble could survive if it got rid of the Nook, which is dragging down the entire company. Meanwhile, Barnes & Noble is (bizarrely) launching Nook Press.

Creative people say NO.

From Elizabeth:

So you think toilet seats are gross? They’re nothing compared to your purse.

This girl never takes it off. Makeup artist Charlotte Tilbury about why she sleeps in her makeup.

Keep your sex toys safe. City Girl teaches us about dildology.

Scientific research shows, this is the best condom.

From Madeline:

We love Misty Deitz.  Here’s her great 3 part advice blog post on realistic kink for the girl next door.

Ah-ha! Sex advice from Cougars

News from crazy-town: Let his wife tell you he’s married—even if she’s not at the bar when you meet him. This is a wedding ring that imprints the word married on his finger.  

Love this guy! Mattew Hussey gives you tips on how to instantly tell if a guy really likes you.

Have a great weekend — and follow our Lady Smut blog.  Just click on the follow button to your right.

Stay hungry,

Liz

I recently took in the “David Bowie is” exhibit at the V&A in London. One of the most fun aspects of Bowie of course is his gender play. From early on, the audience confusion — “Is he a girl? Is she a boy?” — was part of the provocation. I remember the label on this video saying it was banned in the US, but I know I saw it at the time, so perhaps it was only banned from certain mainstream avenues.

There’s a drag tradition in Britain that’s different from what it is in the States: from the days of Shakespeare, where the theatre was far too scandalous to allow women on it, right up to the relatively modern public (i.e. private) school tradition that segregated genders and made it necessary that school plays include boys dressed as ingenues, it has been largely accepted as okay for straight men to dress up.

By Bowie’s time in the midst of glam rock the fluidity of gender had much more playful aspects to it that many found confusing; it wasn’t the easy identification of an old comedian dressed as a ‘battle axe’ or ‘pepperpot’ but very attractive (and overtly masculine) men in eyeliner and glitter — as well as more slippery characters like Bowie who didn’t necessarily make it clear where their gender identity lay.

Tilda Swinton is the perfect foil for Bowie, isn’t she?

I wrote a medieval story with the ‘heroine’ really being a boy, whose mother had raised him as a girl. How do you like to play with gender?

Pepsi or Coke? Logolas or Aragorn? (Or are you one of those weirdos out there who prefers Frodo?) We women really seem to line up on different sides when it comes to the types of men we like. Why is that?  Does it all come down to the guys who thrill vs. the guy who’s chill?

Of course Spock.

Spock’s hittin’ it

Of course Legolas–but I have a sneaking suspicion you won’t agree with me.  [Fist pump with my sisters out there who do.]

Chris Pine you are fine.

My first crush was on Spock. (I won’t even tell you what movie.)  And I’ve been faithful ever since.

Original Spock–accept no substitutes.

And I’d bet money that those women out there who prefer Kirk would also prefer Aragorn.  Don’t know why, it’s just a gut feeling.

–And we–love. Men who talk. Using strange…pauses. In their speech.

The latest Star Trek is coming out.  [Let the summer movie extravaganzas begin!] I’ll be interested in seeing it because I don’t know…ladies, I may be jumping ship.

While Spock’s getting it on with Uhura, I’m going to be checking out a third dark horse in the race for yumminess: Bones.

Karl Urban was recently in a not-too-bad reboot of the Judge Dredd franchise.  He’s cute, people.  Have you noticed that? And I’m saying that after watching him play Dredd–where we never saw his face.  His side kick was kinda okay too btw.

Damn it Jim, Karl’s hawt.

So you tell me in the comments below — Kirk or Spock? (Or have you been reading fan fic where they *ahem* are both together?) Who’s open minded out there and willing to toss Bones into the ring as a contender?

Oh wait! You know what–they should call this movie STAR TRECK: VOYAGE INTO EXPONENTIAL HOTNESS.  Because hey look–Benedict Cumberbach is playing the bad guy.  And B.C. –if you’ve been following the BBC’S SHERLOCK — he’s just riveting.

So you know where I’ll be Friday night.  Meanwhile, if you’re home over the weekend and you’d rather stay inside in front of your own TV to watch some action adventure, here are two DVD’s to check out:

Dredd — as I told you, it’s not. that. bad.  Harsh, with cool slo-mo effects and a great villian-ness.

Dredd and his girly side-kick.

I thought that Lena Headey (see my Bad Mommy post) was an awesome–practically stole the movie.  Funnily enough her character’s name was ‘Mama’.

Lena rocks it as the villain–of course.

Check out John Carter as well.  It got panned quickly for no real good reason that I can see.  Really, it’s just fine.  And the princess isn’t a size zero–that was refreshing.  It’s long though,–so make sure to settle in with a snack–but it’s honest, bouncing fun.  Makes up for the last few wretched Star Wars flicks.

Johnny Boy & a princess

Remember you can follow this blog — just hit the button to your right.

For starters, people who practice this type of living no longer refer to their residences as “colonies.” The word “colony” has a negative overtone, such as “leper colony,” and it also sounds like it might be a cult. Folks who dig 24/7 naked live in “nudist communities” or “naturist villages” and frequently refer to themselves as “naturists.” There’s an organization that represents these clothes-free fans, the International Naturist Federation. According to their website, naturism is defined as “. . . a way of life in harmony with nature, expressed through social nudity, linked to self-respect, tolerance of differeing views together with respect for the environment.” Now you know.

There are also naturist resorts, where families can go for a vacation to get their naked on and enjoy activities such as swimming or tennis. OK, side note here . . . swimming in the buff is fun and I can totally picture that as a vacation kinda thing to do. But naked tennis? I’m pulling up some images in my mind about that one and they’re not good. Certain . . . appendages . . . would be swinging and shaking during naked tennis. And, sheesh, ow. It just seems painful and, you know, not pretty.

Alrighty then, moving on. So let’s say I do put my characters in a naturist village. What are the rules for living there? Aside from the obvious, sans clothes. From what I could find, there don’t seem to be a lot. Photography is discouraged unless you’re taking a quick shot of the family or your friends. But snapshots of others? Not so much. Put towels down wherever you sit. (good). Men who may show obvious arousal should discreetly cover up until said arousal calms down. Also, naturist resorts also claim not to tolerate “lewd and lascivious behavior.” Oh, but there’s where things get interesting.

One of the most famous naturist resorts is Cap-d’Agde in France. There you can live, work, shop, dine, whatever you want, in the buff. Singles live there, families live there. A large part of the place is a resort for vacationers. It’s touted  as a good place to have fun in the sun in the nude. But when the sun goes down, the parties heat up. Several reviews on travel website Trip Adviser mentioned the “swinger like” atmosphere that comes out once darkness hits. People spend the daytime part of their vacation in the nude, and the nighttime part dressed in party clothes (it can get cool at night, apparently) slumming for a good time. The Cap D’Agde website even has a section “for swingers” that provides information on a club called “Le Glamour.” Here we learn that “Downstairs is the sex area. There are some facilities with mattresses, but also a lot of people are just standing around having sex.” Well. That’s interesting. My plotting mind is churning with ideas.

Whether or not I decide to go the naturist route, I’ve certainly learned a thing or two about what I thought was a a leftover relic from the ’70s. For me, when I’m out in public my clothes are staying on. But for my intrepid hero and heroine, perhaps not so much . . .

Photo by Alaska Dude

I’ve been thinking about historical romances ever since I read that Dear Author post about the death of them. Also, I sat in on the Shindig historical romance panel that included the RITA nominees. The Dear Author post was a topic of conversation.

I adore historicals. I wrote one several years ago and it’s one of my favorite books I’ve ever written—even if it’s never been sold. So many of us have books like this, don’t we? Books that we loved writing but just have not found a home yet?

A little about my own homeless historical

“Tempting Will McGlashen” is set in 1765 in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. This was the frontier. Roads were being blazed out of old Native American trails. People were seeking opportunity for more land at cheaper prices came to the Valley, mostly from Pennsylvania, which was becoming crowded and expensive.

Photo by OZinOH

My heroine is an innkeeper’s daughter and my hero a blacksmith that comes to work for her father. Both my agent and my current editor loved the book, but he could not get the rest of his committee on board. The main reason was that the time period and the place are just not easy to sell. (And would be even harder with a first time novelist.)

I’ve thought about self-publishing it—and I probably will at some point. But right now, I don’t have the time. (Kudos to those who can do it and do it well.) I’m writing two series and several blogs, and do have a life. (Imagine that.) But it’s a project that is very near and dear to my heart. I loved the research and the writing. And I keep the thought of doing something else with it tucked back in my mind.

Mathilde, the innkeeper’s daughter , is second generation of German descent. She’s 20-years-old, loves to cook, and converse with the travelers who eat and stay at their “ordinary,” which is what inns were called in Virginia then. Oneof the reasons I set the book at in and ordinary is I wanted her to meet many people. She has a lively mind and when her father mentions that it’s time to consider marriage to a young man who owns a farm in Pa., she balks. She doesn’t want to be tucked away on a farm, and she can’t imagine marrying Joshua. But she tries to consider him because she’s a dutiful daughter. She goes along with her father up until a certain point.

In walks Will McClashen, fresh from Scotland, whose voice “sounds like song” and makes Mathilde’s heart race. Will has a few secrets of his own and knows that acting on this heated attraction with Mathilde might put his new job (and new life) in jeopardy with his new boss, her father. Where he comes from, marrying outside of your class is not done. And besides, as far as he knows,  Mathilde is going to marry Josh. So even though he has a burning desire for her, she is off-limits. Or so he thinks.

A little about the tension therein

Is there anything worse than wanting a lover you can’t have for whatever reason?

Photo by Happyhippysnacks

This kind of plot is not unique—feeling love and attraction for someone that society deems unacceptable. This convention exists is many, many romances. What makes each story unique is the setting and circumstances along with the characters, complete with their own foibles and quirks. And of course, the narrative the author place over that “structure.”

This scenario is even popular in contemporary romances. Think about  the colleagues who should not have an affair, or the boss and employee, and yes there’s definitely still “class” lines drawn in the sand, especially in other cultures. And let’s not forget the multicultural taboos. But all of those lines are more sharply dawn in historicals. And I wonder if that’s one of our fascinations with them. We also love history coming alive, imagining ourselves back then, how would we have reacted? What would we wear? What station of life would we be in? Would we be one of those who went against convention or would we have the courage to walk our own paths?

I think that good historical romance writers are some of the best writers. Think about it. Not only must they be accurate in the historical manner, but they also must bring some kind of modern sensibility to their storytelling or today’s reader could not relate. Achieving that balance in an artistic, yet readable  fashion is not easily done.

What do you think about historicals? Are they dying?

Virginia Kantra’s selkie needs to git some now.

by Madeline Iva

Yeah, it was mother’s day this weekend.   A day of motherly love, and were was I? I went to a workshop where we discussed gender expectations in romances and how as an author you cross those readerly expectations at your own peril.

Virginia Kantra was the author who spoke to our group.  She pointed out that while heroes we love can often be violent –and if they are vampires even kill people left and right–but god forbid a heroine be sexually aggressive or slightly bitchy.

Yet there were a lot of exceptions to this rule.  Urban Fantasy heroines, for example, can be very kick-ass and aggressive.  (I love you, paranormal readers.  You like freaks and monsters–the misunderstood and the outsiders.  In the words of Avril Lavrine: I’m with you.)

Also things are different in comedy.  Characters who are expressing their core truths can get away with not conforming to ‘good girl’ rules. You can also bend the rules in mystery, where a woman is more likely to swallow her mistrust for humanity like a shot of whiskey with a loneliness chaser.

In the end, Kantra suggested that we off-set the less-than-compassionate behavior of our heroine with her love for lost pets, old people, and young children.  Kantra related how one of her books had a particularly persnickety heroine, and said “you’ve never seen a book with so many stray cats and dogs in it.” ;>

Meanwhile, we never got around to discussing at the workshop how modern society is coining new terms for women.  For instance, the topic of Cougars and how we write about them in romances never came up.  (Is it because they’re mostly in erotic romances?)

What about M.I.L.F.’s?  Even if the new terms for women are kind of derogatory, once there is a term that’s recognized you can stick that kind of a woman in a romance and your readers will recognize her and–I would argue–accept her.

We have terms for romance genres that we don’t even have equivalent terms for in real life.  What about all those romances with secret baby themes? Those were around for a long time before the term ‘baby mama’ was coined.

I mean, this is what I love about romance– it’s all about gender 24/7 in all its permutations and weirdness and glory.

Meanwhile, I’d like to take a moment to appreciate BAD MOTHERS  of three specific varieties.

First, my favorite:  those amazing women on the small screen who rivet us with their selfishness, their style, and their relentless insistence that there is so much more to life than being a breeder.

Edina’s daughter is never going to have as much fun as her mother is. Oh well!

Jennifer Saunders as Edina in Absolutely Fabulous: Edina is gloriously absorbed in the dream world of her inner fantasy life.  Plunged into the work of staving off a thousand insecurities.  Edina is friends for life with Patsy–a fashion plate so lacking in motherly genes that she was probably born without female genitalia.  Edina is a genius at violating every ‘should’ in the book of how to raise your child and be a proper mum.  Saunders is always so over the top that we recognize the spoiled child in all of us.  We long to give that child free rein. We enjoy watching her do so because she is off yet again like a hound chasing fun and notoriety.  That or she’s milking the facile teats of society like a mad dairy maid.  Such is Saunder’s genius that when she does, she makes us love it.

Tell it like it is, Lucille.

Jessica Walters as Lucille Bluth in Arrested Development:  She’s another relentless example of how simmering sexuality, relentless glamour, and blind entitlement refuse to die just because a woman pops out a child or four.  The fun of watching Lucille’s character is that she’s mastered the various faces of pious motherhood.  They’re masks she wears and they fool no one, but still,  she’ll put them on to get what she wants, if somewhat surprised and weary that her children still insist upon her wearing them.  The tiny bit of every real mother that ruthlessly judges her children’s lives forever lives on in Lucille Bluth.

Uh-oh. Someone’s gonna be a very bad girl.

Mary-Louise Parker as Nancy Botwin in Weeds:  Like Michael Correleone in The Godfather, Nancy, in order to save her family, ends up destroying them. In this case what she’s destroying is her children’s innocence.  MLP is a great example of a woman who just isn’t that good at long range planning. Keeping her head above water day-to-day often consumes all the brain cells she’s got and when the slog becomes too much, her greatest character flaw is her distractability.  Overpowered by an urge for a mocha-latte freeze and the need to bat her big M.I.L.F. bambi eyes at some muscled torso, Nancy forgets what her kids are up to, emerging from her caffeine daze  to realize oh, her son’s just killed someone.

Next we have those moms who are examples that yes, despite evolution, some women are born without a maternal bone in their body.

Smoke a cigarette or shut down my daughter’s self-esteem? Hmmmm.

Roseanne Barr in Roseanne: Her crime is that even though she has the capacity to love her children and be a good mother to them, she’s far more devoted to enjoying the dregs of discomfort caused by the twisted machinations of humanity.  She’ll prioritize enjoying that discomfort over being a mother any day–even when the joke’s on her.

Betty Draper in Mad Men: The contrapuntal situation of a woman with no motherly instincts living at a time when all women were raised to take on the starring role of mommy bespeaks the jaded irony of the age.  Kudos to the writers who had the courage to simply put that irony out there and let us watch, trusting that we’d get it.

What a great actress–what a bad role model her character is. Incest–eesh!

Circe Lannister in Game of Thrones: She’s a fine example of how Having It All is so not having it all, when men rule the game and she wants to get out there with the big boys and play the game too.  It’s frustrating enough to drive her into performing every bad behavior she can think of–in a small tiny way, she often has our sympathy.

Maggs Bennett in Justified:  She’s a great example of the momma who eats some of her babies when under stress.

Finally, I’d like to take a moment to appreciate those reality moms who lead by example.  The examples is what you shouldn’t do every single moment of your life but it’s still an example.  We witness and we learn.  Their cautionary tales provide us with the soothing comfort of comparison–no matter how we’re raising our kids, we’re out-performing this lot.

Octo-mom.  Sad.

Yes, Mama June. You’re a strong woman too. But she does have in addition to a mangled toe, a surprisingly soft side on the show.

Mama June of Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo: In a way it’s not fair to include Mama June in this category.  I would opine that Mama June is the red neck Kris Kardashian of reality TV world and she’s laughing hard enough to jiggle her three chins all the way to the bank.  She started off the show with her exponentially fattening family, a baby daddy, a pregnant teenage daughter, and about two hundred pounds of excess flesh. The clever underlying theme of the show is that even if she has a bit of an addiction to bulk coupon shopping, and even if she is ignorant about almost everything, she IS a good mama.  For instance, on a hot day when the family passes by a river that has signs posted about brain eating bacteria in the water, she suggests the children stay out of it.

All the young women in Teen Mom: the slide from reality show infamy to skeezy porn is a short sharp plunge for these girls who take pride in their bad choices.  Who raised these girls?

Photo by Dollen

Hello, sexy! What a week. I’m done with my travels for now and back at work. Once again, we’ve gotten some fascinating blogs and even a video for you to check out this week. Sit back, relax, and happy reading.

I sat in on the RITA-nominees Shindig event on Thursday night and this post was brought up several times: Should we allow the historical genre to die?

Nathan Bransford on how publisher should empower their authors.

Writers breaking the “rules” of good writing.

This from the strange, but true. An man dies in Nigeria after being raped by his wives.

Charlaine Harris on killing off a series.

Another from the strange but true. A question about changing the sheets between lovers.

From Madeline:

Always looking for how to manage your time more productively? Me too! Here are 9 tips on managing your time from Colleen Trombley-VanHoogstraat posted on the Washington Romance Writers blog.

“It’s hard to explain or describe how a woman feels about her body—it’s either her friend or her enemy.” If you’re moved by this statement, maybe it’s time to call a truce.  Meanwhile, this fascinating account of post-baby plastic surgery is as soul searching as it is provocative.

How to write fast from the master of writing fast.

Kate Worth shared these links to the latest Harlequin fail– Part 1) Joe Conrath explains the backstory on the lawsuit. Part 2) The Judge Dismisses the Case. Part 3) Snarky commentary on The Harlequin Survey that followed. (You might read this if only for Bob Mayer’s response in the comments section.)

Alma Katzu’s edgy social media blog ENDPAPER NOTES is not for the faint of heart.  But her think tank expert’s take on cutting edge social media is where you’ll find the good stuff.

From Elizabeth:

Sure, Sunday’s Mother’s Day, but it’s also National Limerick Day! Celebrate by reading a brief history of the limerick.

At last, a definitive guide to buying and wearing a properly sized bra.

Beach time! Publishers’ Weekly is out with their list of best summer books for 2013. Stock up!

Lizzie had been grateful for the impromptu docent duties that morning as it had mostly kept her from thinking about her own potential trap. Seated behind her desk once more with a lot of paperwork waiting, it became impossible not to ruminate on ‘the Nigel problem’ as she had begun to think of it.

Six little words.

“I want us to be exclusive,” he had said to her last night, taking her hand across the table. She hoped the dismay didn’t show too clearly on her face, but he had at least recognized surprise. Studying his earnest face, Lizzie had to admit not many women would say no to that offer.

Nigel was tall, dark and handsome for sure. He cooked like a dream and he had a laugh that warmed like a stove on a winter’s afternoon. Lizzie enjoyed the strength of his arms and the concentration in his face when they made love. Nigel made sure she was satisfied, whether he was preparing dinner or eating her out.

So why in the world wouldn’t she want to have that all to herself?

Her phone buzzed and Lizzie saw the number she had been half-expecting to flash there.

He was why.

“Hello, Jake,” Lizzie could almost hear herself purr.

“Can you meet for lunch?” His tone was casual, but that didn’t fool her.

“Where?”

“My place.”

She snorted. “Will I get any food out of this?”

“You could pick something up on the way!” He rang off without even saying good-bye.

That was Jake: impetuous, fun-filled, demanding and unpredictable.

And that was why she didn’t immediately agree to Nigel’s proposal. She had strong feelings for both of them; why did she have to choose? A gorgeous guy who cooks? A life-of-the-party guy who thrilled her? She had three favourite restaurants and at least a dozen favourite artists. Why only one boyfriend? It made her want to stomp her foot and cry in her best two-year-old voice, “It’s not fair!”

These thoughts were still churning in her head when she got to Jake’s. He lived on the top floor of a gorgeous nineteenth century building. The stair was narrow and dark but when you got to the top, it was all light and windows. He had an enviable view of the cathedral and town centre.

If he asked me to be exclusive, would I have leaned toward yes just because of this flat? Lizzie wondered, but then immediately laughed to herself. Jake could never be exclusive to anyone!

As she rang the buzzer Lizzie realised she had forgotten to pick up any food. Ah well, Cup-a-Soup back at the office. But when Jake opened the door, she smelled something delicious. She saw something pretty delicious, too. His loose tie and his work shirt half unbuttoned invited her hand to slip inside and caress his chest as they kissed. His cowlicked hair stuck up in fashionable disarray. No doubt about it, Jake was a dish—even paler than she was with jet black hair and eyes the colour of Caribbean waters.

He pulled her close as he shut the door behind her, running his hands down her back to her bum and giving the cheeks a squeeze. The warm kiss became something hotter as his tongue thrust deep into her open mouth. Lizzie felt the stress of the morning slip away as her skin thrilled to his touch…

Check out more on my author page at Tirgearr Publishing.

I’m getting high on beauty.

By Madeline Iva

“That lovely month when ev’ry one goes–blissfully astray.”

March is when spring comes–ha! For a week out in the West maybe.  And all March brings to the Northeast is a mini-winter.

Even in the South–where the lucky folk get a glorious burst of tulips and daffodils that smite the eyes with beauty–March and April are flirty, edgy and inconstant.  It’s not until May that spring truly arrives.  It’s not until May when the deep promise of fertility roams across the land. May is green.  May is warm.  May is lusty.

What’s she doing with those hands? Collecting flowers? Right.

Botticelli’s Primavera, also known as the Allegory of Spring presents the arrival of spring. The three graces dance: they are beauty, joy, and charm.  In my garden the three graces are peonies, daisies, and roses. All of them have started to bloom and the garden is at its best in this month.

Here are some other welcome spring arrivals to my TBR pile.  Two authors I like, doing what they do best and one new author to try:

Beauty, Joy, and Charm. In my garden otherwise known as peonies, daisies, and roses.

Curve Ball by Charlotte Stein (and hey!–it’s only .99 cents!) When Judy Myers is offered a relaxing vacation to get away from her latest heartbreak, she can’t say no. A cruise on her brother’s yacht sounds like heaven…until she realises her brother’s best friend has been invited along for the ride. Steven Stark is big, he’s loud, and he’s obviously not interested in the plump, plain little sister he used to tease unmercifully. In fact, he’s still quite happy to tease her – until she turns the tables on him.

Soul Possession by Maya Banks  Jessie spends a hot night with two sexy-as-sin detectives, only to be accused of murder the very next day. But when Jessie becomes the target of a serial killer, her two detectives will risk everything to have her back in their arms—and in their bed…

and

“Bite me, Zephryus”. That’s the nymph Chloris speaking to the March winds. Later they marry and he turns her into the goddess of spring, who scatters roses on the ground.

Agent of Desire by Charlie Evans (Jessica Booker #1–in a series)*An Erotic Spy Thriller* Adrenaline junkie Jessica Booker joined the CIA to take on bad guys and flirt with danger. And with perks like sleeping with hot foreign men added into the mix, well…it’s a pretty sweet deal. Now in Paris, she’s about to take on her second assignment as an official agent but is caught off guard when her new handler turns out to be Sims, a sexy CIA instructor. Sims was hard enough to resist in the classroom—in the field, he’s a dangerous distraction. To make matters worse, Jessica’s target is a gorgeous Frenchman who manages to put her in the most compromising positions—positions she doesn’t altogether mind.

In addition to reading romance – lots and lots of romance – I’m also a big fan of the horror genre. Not only Stephen King, whose work I’ve been reading since I was fourteen, but other horror writers as well including Clive Barker, Dan Simmons, and Dean Koontz to name just a few. In recent years I’ve also become a fan of Stephen King’s son, who writes under the name Joe Hill. His work is really good, and I await his new releases with nearly as much gusto as I do his father’s. So when Mr. Hills’ newest book, NOS4A2, came out recently, I dashed to the bookstore the very day it was released in order to scoop it up.

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, of course. It’s not like I’m robbing banks. But here’s the thing: my to-be-read pile is at least 75 books long. And I’m not talking electronic books (because that would push the total even higher), but honest-to-goodness printed books. Hardcovers. Softcovers. Bound books, ink on paper, taking up space on my limited bookshelf. To top it off, I  live in a small apartment where space is a premium. Yet what did I do in the face of a space crisis? I went out and bought yet another book. Even more: while I was at the bookstore, I inquired whether or not Ian McEwan’s Sweet Tooth was out in paperback yet. ‘Cause if it was, I was buying that, too. (thankfully, it’s not until July 2. I’ve got it marked on my calendar). So here I am, friendly readers, baring my soul. My name is Elizabeth Shore, and I’m a book addict.

My book addiction sprouted roots when I was a Tween, probably eleven or twelve. Back then, I used to get as birthday and/or Christmas presents a gift certificate to Waldenbooks. Oh, those were heady days! Having that gift certificate in my hand, walking into the bookstore and seeing all those new, fresh books just sitting there, on the shelves, awaiting my potential acquisition. I could barely contain myself. I was like Imelda Marcos in a Jimmy Choo store!

Books take me away, sweep me into a world of fantasy, romance, adventure, excitement. Naturally I love the stories in the books. What reader doesn’t? It’s the whole point, after all. But I also love the books themselves. I love how they feel when I’m holding them. I love running my palm across the cover of paperbacks and feeling the raised lettering. I admire the antiquated look of ragged edged hardcovers and note how handsome they look sitting atop my shelves. It’s an addiction, I tell you, and one that I’m thinking needs to stop.

Once I’ve read a book, I rarely read it again. There are a few treasures, of course. But for the most part, it’s one and done. I read it, enjoy it, and move on to the next, devouring each and every one of them like a starving cookie monster. I’m beginning to fret about the fact that I have no room for more books, as well as the amount of money I’m spending on them. Really, I need to be directing my hard-earned cash toward more practical things. Like food. I don’t actually need to own a single book. There are libraries, after all. I can read books for free and then return them and never have to worry about squeeeeezing yet another book upon my groaning shelves. But seriously, how boring is that? I don’t actually need nice handbags, either. A sack cloth would do the same trick. But how pale life would be stowing my stuff in a sack, just as it would be having shelves with no books.

Whenever I lament to my husband about being struck with buyer’s remose over buying books, his go-to response is always, “hey, at least you’re not snorting the money up your nose.” Well, no. I’m certainly not doing that. I am, however, supporting writers, and that’s assurance enough for me that if I’m going to have a vice, there are plenty worse ones than buying books. If only I lived in an airplane hangar.