|Subscribers can access around 150 finely crafted pieces of short
fiction, nonfiction and erotic and nonerotic poetry, spanning
over the last five years.
You can find my currently published written work out and about
in the anthologies Yes Means Yes, Viscera, The Adventures of Food, Aqua Erotica, Zaftig: Well-Rounded
Erotica, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Shameless: An Intimate Erotica and the forthcoming Girl Play and in Penthouse magazine. I was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Bacchor magazine in 2000, and my work has been seen online in my own
publications at Scarlet Letters, Femmerotic and Scarleteen, and in other online publications and sites, including Technodyke, PIF Magazine, Maxi magazine, Cherrybomb, Satin Slippers,
ChickClick, CleanSheets, and Soapbox Girls. My work in writing and publishing has been lauded by such diverse
sources as Adult Video News, CNN, HipMama, The City Pages, Siren, Playboy,
Oxygen, Shift, The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, The Industry Standard,
The Boston Phoenix, The Illinois Library Association, and the Kinsey Institute. Some of my pieces have been used in college courses such as at
the University of Wisconsin (Philosophy: Philosophy of Love, Sex,
and Friendship), and at CSU and Arizona State University (English:
Writing in Cyberspace). I also am the author of the popular young
adult sexuality guide S.E.X.: The All-You-Need-to-Know Progressive Sexuality Guide to
Get You Through High Scool and College.
In a word, I'm pretty handy with my keyboard and my pen. And I
always have something to say.
|erotic fiction: swell
(Published in Shameless, 2002 and Penthouse, 2003)
"Holy shit," we also said in unison. We were getting good at this.
Joe even dropped her vice-grip on my left buttock.
Finn stood in the doorway, a hand on his hip. Which supported
his apron. Which covered a gorgeous black silk cocktail dress.
Which stopped at cuban-heeled stockings that led down to black
heels. He winked at me from beneath a false eyelash.
short fiction: passerby
Mae didn't go to the Lonely Hearts Club because she didn't want
to be single anymore. She actually wasn't exactly single, either,
and Mae didn't go to just one singles club. The Bows n' Beaus
Singles Club in cozy Mountain View, California, the Tennessee
Single-Dingles, the Swing Singles in not-so-swingin' Amherst,
Michigan: Mae had been there and to every one she could find in
between, sitting out the evening with someone or another until
the night sky flirted with sunrise.
nonfiction: On Your Mark
(Published in Scarlet Lettters, 2003)
Bruises, welts, lashes, burns, scars, stains, teeth marks, pinpricks,
rashes: I crave and cherish them all. The other night your intent
thumb left a circular bruise on my mons, red and tender from your
fingers pumping in and out of my cunt, holding tight to it. I'd
set the ball of my hand on it during the next day to feel the
lingering soreness and remember where I'd been the night before.
The marks you left on my neck were deepened by your other hand,
pressing on my windpipe just enough to make me dizzy. I'd remember
this with the same stilted breathing.
nonfiction: Bad Vibes: Women Shalt Not Pleasure in Alabama
(Published in Maxi Magazine, 1999; reprinted at bettydodson.com)
As far as the fundamental right to purchase something to have
an orgasm, one has to wonder how then, Viagra is legal in that
state. How are condoms (which without an orgasm wouldn't be as
necessary), or a variety of 7-11 publications available and lawful?
Clearly, the statement from the state of Alabama wasn't made as
clear as it could have been, for what they are clearly saying
is that, in fact, women do not have the fundamental right to purchase
anything for the purpose of orgasm.
nonfiction: Rage of Consent
(Published in Scarlet Letters and Soapbox Girls, 2001)
Over the last hundred years, puberty has steadily begun earlier,
yet we have legally and culturally extended the age of childhood
later and later. Hyper-sexualized imagery of young adults and
teens is increasingly more pervasive and overt, not just in pornography,
but in mainstream advertising. Meanwhile, we criminalize and make
taboo adult/teen sexual interchanges and relationships more and
poetry: penance this isn't
I speak in tongues.
Every lap, a lithurgy,
every swallow sacrament.
poetry: some things just don't
just don't bear fruit. That's just the way it is.
Don't mean they ain't worth growing."
That's what she'd say
poetry: hard/soft and homespun
I live in the belly of North America;
my desire has roots here, where my spirit,
my body are at home;
all rumpled, all back-alley-grey, free to roam.
poetry: Priapus does not tend an English garden
This is not often a sanctuary
for small, broken-winged birds,
a Muzak-humming rest home for invalids.
It is where the giant-footed few
who have the seemingly strange inclination
go to toast marshmallows and sing campfire songs in the midst
of an apocalypse;
it feels a temple for legend, not leisure.
poetry: black crow
It is not the season for growing,
when the leaves are a distant memory
and cold bites like an unkempt dog.
audio readings: domestic bliss and hope, 2 miles