Backwoods has been nominated for a Lambda Literary Award! This means I get to attend the awards ceremony in June in New York City and prepare my Oscar speech. It also means that I will henceforth be referred to as “Lambda Award finalist Natty Soltesz.” Do take note.
But seriously, it’s great to get recognition and I couldn’t be more excited. Wish me luck!
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Hey NYC people! Come visit me at the Rainbow Book Fair this Saturday, March 24th, from 11am to 5:30pm at the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center, 208 West 13th Street. I’ll be selling signed copies of ‘Backwoods’ along with zines and original collages.
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It’d be nice if I wrote every day, but it’s also unrealistic if I want to maintain my full-time job and semblance of a social life. So I’ll skip a day or two, usually during the work week. If I skip writing for two days in a row I start to feel it, so I usually don’t skip three.
I was shooting for 1,000 words a day and actually meeting it, for a while. But I lost my mojo a bit over the past couple weeks, so I brought it down to 500 words a day. Done. Better to work less than not work at all.
When I skip a day I try to make up for it the next day, so that I’m still writing my requisite number of words per day. If I’m revising something I increase my per-day word count because revising isn’t as taxing on my attention as composing. I’ve been alternating frequently between composing new stuff and revising old stuff, and it’s good to know that I can switch easily between those two modes. Soon enough I’m going to be delving into revising a 30k word project, so that’ll be taking up most of my time for a good month or so (that’s ‘691 Suburban Dr’).
Here’s an excerpt from a funny story I finished a couple weeks ago. I think the best ideas can be summed up in a sentence, and the one I came up with when I thought of the idea for this story was “cum as protein supplement for college gym bunnies.”
3 CommentsThe other day Johnny came in to gym. I was at the desk, being a gym monitor, which is what I do for work – putting weights away, cleaning off machines.
Johnny was there to work out. He’s my bro. We have a couple classes together and he lifts as much as I do so we’re always hanging out.
I said something to him about his shoulders because they were looking good.
“I’m not juicing if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said.
“No, no,” I said. His shoulders looked uber pumped but Johnny didn’t seem like the steroid type. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Biff is one of our bros and he shoots up. It looks good on him, it’s just not for me. “I just meant, are you doing something different?” Johnny gave me this look.
“Not exactly. I’m doing supplements, but a different kind.”
“Ah okay,” I said. “Is it from GNC?” Johnny looked around. He leaned toward me and talked low over the clanking weights, whirring treadmills and grunts form the guys doing dead lifts on the other side of the room.
“I’m eating my jizz,” he said.
“What?” Johnny just laughed.
“I read about it on the internet. It’s protein, you know? And testosterone. I put it in with my shake.”
“Dude,” I said. Then I had to laugh. “That’s sick.”
“It’s natural. It’s, like, putting back in your body the helpful stuff that goes out when you cum.”
Johnny was still working out when my shift was done so I did some squats and bicep curls with him, then we hit the shower.
“So if it’s supposed to be so good for you, how come my girlfriend doesn’t get all pumped and jacked and shit when she swallows my load?” Johnny shrugged. He ran his soapy hands over his smooth and bulging torso.
“I’m not saying it’s a miracle. It’s just an extra boost. Plus, be real – how often does she really swallow your load, anyway?”
When I got home I tried to find the article on the internet that Johnny was talking about but I couldn’t. Still, it seemed like it sort of made sense. And actually, if I’m being honest about things, the idea of it sorta turned me on. I figured it couldn’t hurt, and Johnny was doing it anyway.
I’ll be traveling to NYC next weekend, March 23-25. While I’m there I want to do some promotion for ‘Backwoods,’ but thus far haven’t had any luck with booking a reading. If anyone has any ideas for how I can shill for my book while I’m out there, please hit me up. Thanks!
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Me at the coffee shop right after I finished writing this post.
Thanks for voting in my poll! I look forward to writing about the bachelor party that everyone tries to forget. Maybe I need to watch ‘The Hangover’ to prepare – Bradley Cooper’s douche-tastic personality may take a concealed starring role in the finished story.
I’m working on thangs. Finished ‘691 Suburban Dr’ a couple of weeks ago and I’m letting it sit for a few weeks more before I start revisions. It’s novella length and, I might as well warn you, features copious bisexuality. I don’t know how that’s going to go over with my regular readers, but what are you gonna do. I’ll probably talk more about it in the future, but it seems borne of a need to explore female characters. I like women! I’m tired of writing about dudes all the time, even if I do find them oh-so-fuckable.
While I’m waiting for the rough draft of ‘691’ to cool I’m working on another project, this one a story collection tentatively titled ‘College Town USA.’ I’ve written notebooks full of stuff for it ever since I finished ‘Backwoods’ and now I’m getting down to revisions. It’s erotica, but a bit more experimental with regard to style and narrative. Not sure what I want to do with it yet, but it’s a nice thing to have on the back burner.
So yeah, I’m on a writing bender and it feels so good. Gonna ride this wave for as long as it lasts.
2 CommentsThis month Handjobs Magazine is running an excerpt from Backwoods and as a result I’m getting a lot of fresh hits to this website. Welcome, fellow pervs!
One thing I like to do on here from time to time is run a poll to decide what I should write next. I’ve done four of them in the past. This time, I’m taking the first runner up from each of those polls (mostly, I made one adjustment to keep the choices varied) and giving them a second chance.
So vote!
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Here ’tis: the original version of my most recent ebook, originally rejected by Amazon and now released in all its incest-laden glory. Includes fourteen of my best intergenerational fuck stories, plus a brand-new story (“Chuck and Skippy”), a preface and a section of annotations detailing story inspirations and other randomness.
**Buy it here via Queer Young Cowboys. The $3.99 download price includes .pdf, .epub and .mobi versions.
This is the best ebook I’ve put together so far, if I do say so myself. I’m grateful to my friend, fellow writer and publishing enthusiast Johnny Murdoc, who is releasing it under his Queer Young Cowboys micro-pub. I have to say, Mr. Murdoc has outdone himself with the cover and promotional aspects – he was the one who slapped the word ‘unexpurgated’ on there, which I love. It reminds me of one of my favorite writers, Anais Nin, whose unexpurgated diaries were released after her death. In fact, one of those volumes detailed her sexual relationship with her biological father – and that book is available on Amazon. Irony! Stupidity!
11 CommentsRepost from old blog, 8/7/2007
So I’m back from vacation on the west coast, the highlight of which was visiting, for one day, the set of Joe Gage’s latest porn film. It was a really positive experience. I stuck with the crew, which were filming five performers doing an anal scene and a watersports scene.
So there was the porn set, with hot sex for sure, but also camera angle changes and dead camera batteries and airplanes occasionally ruining the sound overhead. After filming was over I was asked – had the fantasy of porn been ruined for me? The illusion shattered? To which I honestly replied “no.” I mean, I’ve seen “Boogie Nights.” Watching any porn, I’m always aware of the glimpses of reality I can catch beyond the frame.
Maybe it’s just me, but I find it hard to believe anybody holds illusions about porn at this point. Which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy it – quite the contrary. It’s just that the will of fantasy is powerful, and will easily squelch anything that gets in the way of its enjoyment. I mean, just cause Mel Gibson is a homophobic asshole doesn’t make his “Lethal Weapon”-era ass any less hot, right? Even though you have no chance of ever meeting the guy (and if you did manage to proposition him he’d probably beat you up), the exuberance of your fantasy life still, somehow, gets your face between his buttcheeks.
But anyway.
The set was homey and everyone was friendly and welcoming. On breaks we ate cherries and Nutella sandwiches and watched “South Park.” I didn’t get an erection, except for chubbing up a little when I sat down and read the script. Shows where my interests lie. I got a certain frisson from tiny details – the way a performer slapped the sides of someone’s shaved head, for instance. But, ultimately, the proceedings were stripped of any fantasy element for me to latch on to (they’d filmed the dialogue the day before).
So why didn’t I get a charge from simply seeing real, live people have sex with each other right in front of me? After all, the experience presented me with my first view, since entering a monogamous relationship, of a real live naked man standing in front of me with an erection (who wasn’t my boyfriend). But still – it was real yet unreal.
Beforehand, I assumed I’d be more interested in watching the actual performers than viewing them on the monitors, but as the scene progressed I found myself watching the monitors more, becoming more interested in the fantasy that they represented than the actuality of the work that was taking place. I was looking at it as a writer, as if the scene was a story, focusing in on elements that worked for me, positioning the performers as characters in my mind, props.
Joe was nice enough to even entertain one of my suggestions (you can read about it on Joe’s new, improved blog). Will it work to the scene’s advantage in the end? Who the fuck knows. Certainly not me. At any rate, I sort of like the idea of manipulating people to my own perverted ends – and I only make that sound diabolical in jest. Directing seems like another side to what I’m already doing (albeit a side that I have no experience with whatsoever). I think that’s the biggest revelation I took away from the experience.
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By Natty Soltesz
Brace yourself, America: Pittsburgh-based drag performer Sharon Needles (born Aaron Coady) is bringing her outsized, outrageous and occasionally offensive brand of drag to your living room. One of thirteen competitors on season four of RuPaul’s Drag Race (premiering January 30th on cable network Logo), the self-anointed Queen of Shock has been blowing Pittsburgh audience’s minds for the past several years at venues like the Blue Moon and the Brillobox. How will she hold up under RuPaul’s scrutiny?
We’ll have to watch and see, but underneath Sharon’s pull-no-punches stage persona is an intelligence and a dedication to drag that should serve her well. Pittsburgh’s Out spoke to Sharon about reality-TV fame, the state of Pittsburgh drag, and the necessity of Elmer’s Glue Sticks.
Pittsburgh’s Out: You’ve been doing drag for a long time. Did you ever see yourself getting this much notoriety?
Sharon Needles: You know, yes. When I was young I was vain enough and blind enough and living on my own planet to know that I was going to be famous. But the older I got the more that I was seeing reality and knowing that it probably wasn’t going to happen. But now there’s so many reality shows, anyone can be famous. Andy Warhol once said that one day everyone will get their fifteen minutes of fame, but, you know, you get fifteen episodes.
What’s been the best part of the experience so far?
Literally all the friends that I made. You take that many drag queens and pack em up into a room and put them in sixteen-hour daily shoots, and instead of hating each other we really all loved each other. Some more than most.
Do you worry about how they’ll edit you, or how the exposure will affect you?
My exposure has always caused indifference with people. I say I’m the Queen of Shock and I say it for a reason. I’ve always felt like I was pushing buttons so I’m sure it will be no different than what I get now. In terms of how I’m being edited, I’m such a fan of the show, so I’m looking forward to seeing the story that’s created. And it’s shocking cause I thought reality TV was much more forced and scripted, and it really wasn’t ever scripted or forced.
If Sharon could endorse any product, what would it be?
Elmer’s Glue Stick. You can ask a drag queen what’s the most important thing in your makeup kit and you’ll never hear foundation, mascara or lipstick; you will hear ‘glue stick.’ It’s our number-one secret.
You have this great sense of taste and an ability to fuse your influences – like Peg Bundy & Marilyn Mason – into your drag persona. Do you use any Pittsburgh people as role models?
Any queen in this town, I love. I look at Georgia Bea Cummings, she makes me want to wear a gown. I look at Veruca la Piranha, I want to paint up like a clown. I look at Alaska Thunderfuck, I want to sing live. I look at Courtney Brown, I want to impress all the judges in a pageant. I want to be Kierra Darshell, I want to be a great MC. I want to be Marsha Mellow, I don’t want to give a fuck about anything, especially the way I look. I want to be Lola LeCroix, I want to look like a fishy, bitchy cunt. I want to be Lady Rose and be a statuesque pageant queen. I want to be Mahogany and be a fearless performer on stage. I want to be Cherri Baum and be fish down. I wanna be Amy Vodkahaus and be a total campy mess and relish in it. I love every Pittsburgh queen.
Is there anything you wouldn’t do in front of an audience?
I would never take myself too seriously on stage. I don’t know how.
You grew up in Newton, Iowa – how’d you end up in Pittsburgh?
I lived in a lot of cities in my late teens and early twenties. [At one point] I was looking at nine months in jail and my friend said “I’m moving to Pittsburgh tomorrow,” so I was thinking “Hmm: Pittsburgh, jail – they sound quite similar! Maybe I’ll come and stay for a couple of weeks” – cause I never stayed in a city for long. And I just loved it.
What keeps you here?
It’s like America’s dirtiest secret. I really like the street fashion and I love the dive bar scene. I like it cause it’s rough around the edges. I still get called a faggot everyday, you know? Not that I think that’s a good thing, but I like that it’s blue collar. It’s a town where people aren’t afraid to call someone a faggot, and I like that. [Laughs.] I don’t know why. I never get called a faggot in New York or LA! Sometimes I think I’m not dressed appropriately.
You consider yourself a transgressive artist. When people are put off by your performances does part of you want them to understand, or do you just think “fuck you”?
It would be stupid to think that by doing transgressional art for a living [I’m not] gonna piss them off. But then the innocent side of me that does what I do…I’m always really upset when someone’s upset about it. And I say “fuck you.” But I don’t mean it. I always feel bad when I make someone else feel bad. And then the mean side of me wants to say “I feel bad that they’re too fuckin stupid not to realize that a man in a dress is being an example of all of our anxieties and all our fears.” I always say, I’ll take the darkest issue and put it right in the spotlight. For free. Every other Saturday at the Blue Moon.
Sharon takes no shit, and that must feel liberating. Do you need to be in drag to make her real?
Do I need drag to bring out Sharon Needles? Yes. And maybe alcohol.
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My friend Aaron, aka Sharon Needles, is the star (yes, the star) of the current season of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I can’t tell you how much fun is is to watch a friend on TV, but there’s more to it than that. So many reality shows make stars out of boring, privileged people. Shows like Project Runway (from which Drag Race takes its structure) are enjoyable to me because they’re about the process of creating something, and the camaraderie/antagonism that results when a group of people are forced to create together.
There’s a humanistic quality to that, and Drag Race takes it a step further. It can’t be a casual decision that RuPaul ends each show with the question “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?” (Can I get an amen in here? Amen!) These men who dress like women have likely spent most of their lives being maligned and ostracized, and – even if it is just reality TV – it’s profound to see them elevated to the status of stars.
What’s most exciting to me is seeing a friend of mine presented as a TV character, yet retaining much of his/her individuality in the process. Here are a bunch of crazy, fabulous drag queens, in all their realness, on display for a million Americans. I may not do drag, but these are my people, and it makes me proud.
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