I Created My Own Writer’s Residency, a.k.a. I’m Going into the Woods to Write for Two Months

My November offline was so amazing, I decided to take two months every year off blogging and tweeting and Instagramming and all of this online stuff I am a part of to do what I love most: write.

I applied to some writer’s residency programs – including the Amtrak one that you all helped me with – but didn’t make it in any of them, and wondered how much of that has to do with my subject matter. “Hi, I’d like you to give me food and lodging to write about my sex life and build a guide to queer sex,” isn’t really the kind of thing grant trustees usually fund.

So, with the help of Alex, family and some friends, I’m funding my own writer’s residency program by camping and couch hopping with Alex for six weeks, four of which will be spent in Alaska housesitting for one of my best friends. The rest of the time, I’ll be in the Redwoods, Oregon and Washington, writing as often as possible next to lakes under the shade of pine trees.

My own private writer's residency.

My own private writer’s residency.

Which means, from June 13 –  July 27, I’ll have limited access to this blog and social media, and from July 28 – August 13, I’m going to be 100% offline (with the exception of checking my email weekly).

Off for summer

If you need something urgently, please email info@queeriebradshaw.com. I will check my email once or twice a week at an Internet cafe, but other than that, I will not be online.

Here’s what I will be doing instead during that time:

  • Finishing my memoir Losing It: My Life as a Sex Blogger.
  • Finishing my new Frisky Feminist Press guide Bawdy Love: A 10-Step Program to Stop Hating Yourself.
  • Starting a new guide Tina Horn and I are working on that I’m very excited about! Details coming soon at FriskyFeminist.com.
  • Editing your submissions for Sex Toy Erotica, A Frisky Feminist Anthology (Submit your ideas!).

Here is where you can get your Queerie Bradshaw fix until I’m back:

As always, thanks for your support of my endeavors into the wild abyss. See you all in August!

Posted in Announcements, Losing It: My Life as a Sex Blogger, Words | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Call for Submissions: Sex Toy Erotica, a Frisky Feminist Anthology

Sex Toy Erotica! Written by you, edited by me! THIS IS EXCITING FOLKS!

This is my excited face.

This is my excited face.

Frisky Feminist Press is having a call for submissions for it’s first anthology Sex Toy Erotica, a Frisky Feminist Anthology.

I started Frisky Feminist Press as a way to enhance conversations about sex, relationships and body-image beyond the ones we’re having here on my blog, incorporating voices from every walk of life, including yours! I want to get people writing, talking and, most importantly, thinking about sex from various angles, and an anthology is a great to bring diversity to one place.

Do you have a fantasy that you’ve been waiting to share? Something you want to act out but need a safe space to play it out first? Write it down! Then edit it (editing is underrated, editing is the key to solid writing and we all forget to do it sometimes, me included) and send it to me.

But first, read the guidelines over at FriskyFeminist.com/SexToyErotica. It will give you a great place to start and hopefully some ideas to get the juices flowing.

Call for Sex Toy Erotica submissions

We would love to see as many diverse stories as possible, so we encourage people of any gender, sexuality, kink level, ethnicity or demographic to send in their fantasies.

I’m sorry, but submissions are limited to people over the age of 18 for legal purposes. If you’re under 18, still write out your fantasies though! We’d love them as soon as we’re legally allowed to take them. We also can’t have any stories with beastiality, underage sex, rape or incest for legal reasons.

Want to help spread the word? Take this code and post it the call for submissions on your site! Or use the image above for social media calls. The more diversity the better!

Please grab the above code and put it on your site to help spread the word!

Posted in Announcements, Books, Call for Submissions/Help, Frisky Feminist Press, Sex Toys and Porn, Words | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

My Appearance on HuffPost Live: Will I Be Bad At Gay Sex?

The HuffPost Live had me back to speak once again about gay sex, this time talking particularly about the fear of being bad at sex and the role porn has on the pressure to perform.

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You can watch the clip below or, if the embed feature is acting up again, see it on HuffPost Live. Thanks again to Carl SandlerRick Clemons and Ahmed Shihab-Eldin for such a lively conversation and for making space for the lesbian/queer point of view in a conversation about gay sex.

Speaking of talking about sex, are you coming to the double whammy #SexEdHangout today, featuring Zhana Vrangalova and Sinclair Sexsmith answering your sex questions LIVE? Details below.

Posted in Featured, Interviews of Queerie Bradshaw, Media Appearances, My Writing Elsewhere, Sex, Speaking Gigs/Workshops | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

#SexEdHangout Double Whammy Tuesday, May 20: Zhana Vrangalova Discussing Casual Sex, and Sinclair Sexsmith Discussing The Politics of BDSM

Is there a science to hooking up? Can you be a feminist and a submissive?

We’re going to answer these questions and more – including your questions! – on Tuesday, May 20 during my two #SexEdHangouts through Google’s “OnAir” Hangout function.

First, at 1:00pm Pacific Time, we’ll be chatting with Zhana Vrangalova about The Science of Casual Sex.

How do you study casual sex? Is there a science to hooking up? Zhana Vrangalova has focused her research on casual sex, group sex, and other non-traditional types of sex, and she’s joining us live to answer your questions.

Ask your questions now on the event page, ask them live during the event, or send them to info[at]queeriebradshaw[dot]com (let me know if you want them asked anonymously or not).



Then, at 3:00pm Pacific Time, we’ll be chatting with Sinclair Sexsmith about The Sexual Politics of BDSM.

What does it mean to be a feminist dominant or an empowered submissive? Sinclair Sexsmith is here to answer all of your questions about the intersection of feminism and BDSM.

Ask your questions now on the event page, ask them live during the event, or send them to info[at]queeriebradshaw[dot]com (let me know if you want them asked anonymously or not).

Sinclair SexsmithSquare

About the #SexEdHangout Series

The #SexEdHangout Series is part of my mission to bring accessible, judgment-free, comprehensive sex education to the masses to make each and every one of you feel confident, comfortable and content in your skin as you are right now, this very second.


View the hangouts all together, in one playlist on YouTube simply by clicking here. Or view them each individually by visiting QueerieBradshaw.com/SexEdHangout.

Prefer audio to video?

All these hangouts will also be a part of the Queerie Bradshaw Podcast, available on iTunes or to download for any device at Podcast.QueerieBradshaw.com.

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Upcoming Episodes on the Queerie Bradshaw Podcast

About 6 months ago, I launched the Queerie Bradshaw podcast and then it fell to the wayside like most things did in 2013 because, let’s face it, it’s hard to get any work done when you’re grieving.

But 2014 is my year of productivity, and my goal is to bring accessible, judgment-free, comprehensive sex education to the masses to make each and every one of you feel confident, comfortable and content in your skin as you are right now, this very second.

To do that, I’m branching out into other media forms beyond writing, to reach as wide of an audience as possible, which includes updating my YouTube channel and podcast weekly.

I’ll announce the YouTube channel schedule later this month, but for now, here’s what’s coming up on the Podcast.

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Upcoming Episodes of the Queerie Bradshaw Podcast*:

New episodes every Thursday! Subscribe via iTunes or download at Podcast.QueerieBradshaw.com.

  • May 8 – Superhero Sex Shops and Safe Sex Toys with JoEllen Notte (The Redhead Bedhead)
  • May 15 – Fat Sex and Body-Positivity with Ashely Manta and Elle “Lady Cheeky” Chase
  • May 22 – Gaggle of Guests, with Epiphora, Mona Darling, Queeraschino Cherry, Kate McCombs, JoEllen Notte, Lorax of Sex and more!
  • May 29 – Sex Toy Reviewing with Epiphora and Lorax of Sex
  • June 5 – Ask the Dominatrix Mommy Blogging Life Coach with Mona Darling
  • June 12 – All About SexGeekdom with Kate McCombs
  • June 19 – Phone Sex Tips with Ashley Manta
  • June 26 – The Best Sex Toys for Your Body with Epiphora

Past episodes you may have missed:

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Don’t use iTunes? Download all episodes or listing online at Podcast.QueerieBradshaw.com.

*Note, many of these podcasts are a part of my #SexEdHangout series, where I ask experts in the field of sex, sexuality, gender and gender identity your questions live in Google Hangouts. See all past shows at YouTube.com/QueerieBradshaw. Email Info@QueerieBradshaw.com with questions or suggestions for upcoming guests.

Like what you hear? Subscribe to my podcast on iTunes AND to my YouTube channel. The more subscribers I have, the more funding I can get to keep making accessible sex education and quality entertainment.

Posted in Announcements, Headline, Radio/Podcasts, The Queerie Bradshaw Podcast | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

May Is National Masturbation Month and I Can’t Celebrate, But You Can For Me

Oh that little thing right there? That’s nothing, just a giant ball of something hanging out in my uterus.

My uterus blown up

The doctors found it by sticking a tube into my cervix and filling my uterus up with fluid, then shoving a probe in my vaginal cavity simultaneously, while I screamed in pain and begged them to stop.

It was probably the least fun thing my body has ever been through.

Unfortunately, they think that ball, as large as it seems in the photo, is too small and innocuous to be causing all the abdomen pain I’ve been in, so we haven’t decided if we’re going to abort the lesbian spawn of Satan growing inside of me, or just see where it runs its course.

Meanwhile, I’m in for more tests, all of which seem to leave me in more pain than when I started and with little to no desire to have anything up my vagina ever again. I tried masturbating two days ago and it hurt so badly to orgasm that I thought about joining a nunnery.

Hail Mary, Full of Grace

Hail Mary, Full of Grace

But, just because I can’t physically participate in Masturbation Month May (unlike National Clitoris Day, I didn’t make this one up, just ask Twitter),  doesn’t mean I can’t suggest items ways for all of you to enjoy it!

In fact, I would love it if you all could masturbate for me! Dedicate an orgasm to my wounded, extended, parasitic twin carrying uterus!

Help me live vicariously through you by masturbating in some of my favorite ways.

1. The romantic evening alone.

As cliche as it sounds, I love to light some candles, put on some sensual music, draw myself a bath and relax in the tub. Here are some things that help make that experience even better.

2. The loving assist.

My partner has a lower sex drive than I do, so sometimes I feel like an orgasm when she’s rather spent. In those instances, she rubs my breasts while I touch myself. It’s one of my favorite things to do and a way for us to be intimate without having to fully engage in more exhausting kinds of sex.

5. The quarter-pounder (hold the cheese).

Sometimes, you don’t want all that romance. Sometimes, you just want to pound yourself. For those instances, I like to grab one of my favorite dildos.

4. The ride ’em cowgirl.

Sometimes, I just want to ride something. Unlike Epiphora, I haven’t been lucky enough to be gifted a Sybian sex machine, so I’ve made one myself out of my Liberator wedge. Just grab a dildo with balls and shove the balls into the pocket for the Magic Wand, then enjoy the ride! You can obviously also just keep the Magic Wand (or my favorite the Bodywand) and ride that as well, if that’s more your style.

5. The quickie.

When time is scarce, I usually just use my hand, but sometimes, when things just aren’t working, I grab my We-Vibe Tango, Bodywand or other powerful massager and wham, bam, thank you ma’am.


Dammit, all this talk about masturbating has made me horny.  Oh well, hopefully they’ll figure out what’s causing this pain sooner rather than later. Until then, thanks for masturbating in my honor!

Posted in Featured, Personal, Sex, Sex Toys and Porn, Stuff We Love | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Happy Anniversary, Baby, Let’s Go to the Emergency Room, a.k.a. Love in the Time of Maladies

This afternoon, doctors are going to stick a straw into my cervix, fill my uterus up with water and try to see if they can figure out why my lower abdomen has been hurting for so long.

This is not how I planned on spending my anniversary with Alex.

This is not the nighty I had planned for our anniversary.

This is not the nighty I had planned for our anniversary.

About a year ago, this amazing person came into my life, swept me off my feet, and made me believe in things I’d long since thought to be fairy tales of my youth.

Quietly writing while she builds a fire on one of our first camping trips.

Quietly writing while she builds a fire on one of our first camping trips.

From our first date – which took us 8500 feet in the sky on an aerial tram to hike in the woods during the day, then down to sea level again for camping under a dark sky full of falling meteors – we’ve been adventurers, companions on each other’s quest to see, experience and grow.

Stopped to photograph our mutually favorite flower while exploring the desert.

Stopped to photograph our mutually favorite flower while exploring the desert.

This is the first time I’ve reached the year mark in a relationship and wanted to take it farther. Usually, I’m fleeing the scene of the crime right about now, but I find myself nurturing this thing with Alex, instead of murdering it like I’ve done with so many relationships in the past.

It’s not that I’m less scared, insecure or crazy (literally, not figuratively) with Alex than I have been with other partners, it’s just that she fits me better than anyone else ever has, grounding me in our mutual desire to grow, heal and explore every aspect of ourselves. She is my easy silence, my rock when the ground feels shaky, my life vest when the tempest of grief and depression tosses me out to sea.

She is the support I didn’t realize I so desperately needed in my life.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland. Well, more like trying to not get lost in a snowstorm.

She has taught me how to simply be silent.

All through my brother’s cancer roller-coaster, his girlfriend Em stood by his side, holding his hand and boosting his spirits.

Even after the doctors removed his jaw, she was there for him every night after work, and the two of them wrote back and forth to each other in his bed, laughing and enjoying each other’s company as best as they could. His life was horrifically hard those last few weeks, the pain unbearable, but his face still lit up every time he saw her and she still loved that face until the bloody end, even though it barely resembled the boy she fell in love with months before.

Double dessert the night before having his jaw removed.

Double dessert the night before having his jaw removed.

After my brother died, I tried dating, but no one seemed to support me the way I needed it. Everyone tried to fix me instead of just letting me be broken, they didn’t get that I will never be put back together again, at least not in the way I used to be. They didn’t understand that I needed time and patience to build a strong foundation from the pieces of rumble that had become my life.

And most of all, none of them were like Em. None of them felt like the kind of person who would find a way to make me laugh, even when it had become physically impossible to do so, and hold me even when my body was covered in tubes, scars and gaping wounds.

My sister, brother and nieces, right after we found out his cancer was back and his chances of surviving were slim.

My sister, brother and nieces, right after we found out his cancer was back and his chances of surviving were slim.

Alex was different than the others from the beginning, someone who got grief and understood the personal exploration and growth that comes with it. She’s seen my demons and still loves me wholly, and she takes care of me without making me feel like I can’t take care of myself.

Last week, when I refused to go to the doctor but still winced in pain every time I moved, Alex was the one who got me to Urgent Care, the one who then drove me to the ER when they thought my appendix was acting up, the one who stayed by me as they stuck needle after needle in me trying to get blood even though she usually faints at the sight of it, the one who kept me entertained for seven hours as they poked, prodded, scanned and evaluated me in the freezing cold hospital nook.

She wrapped blankets around me, reminded me I didn’t have to be brave, that I could admit this all hurts and is really shitty, and even understood my need to document everything in my life and took photos of me for Instragram.

I make this gown look good.

I make this gown look good.

She was my Em.

And while abdominal pain is nothing compared to having your jaw removed, the past few weeks of doctors visits reassured me that Alex is the kind of person who would stand by my side through anything life threw at us.

She's almost a foot taller than I am. I mostly keep her around just because of that.

She’s almost a foot taller than I am. I mostly keep her around just because of that.

We left the ER at 4am, our flight to Eugene, Oregon for our planned anniversary celebration left at 6am. The week we were supposed to spend hiking saw us visiting doctors for more tests, and lounging on the couch watching cheesy romantic comedies and reruns of Bianca Del Rio on RuPaul’s Drag Race.

How we spent our anniversary. The popcorn was delicious.

How we spent our anniversary. The popcorn was delicious.

Alex and I are getting a sublet together this summer, giving living together a trial period to see if it’s something we can figure out. I’m scared at sharing my space with another human being – especially one so attractive that I find myself distracted from my work while they’re around – but I pride myself in working through my fears, and this relationship is worth trudging through insecurity to keep it going.

Alex and I on a train from Portland to Eugene. She's my favorite travel partner.

Alex and I on a train from Portland to Eugene. She’s my favorite travel partner.

Alex is out getting my car an oil change. She left so I could get some writing done before I’m out of commission and lying on the couch for another few days, looped up on the Vicodin the doc said I’ll need after the procedure this afternoon.

She gets me, as a writer, business woman and lover. She knows that the next few days of “doing nothing” will make me antsy and drive me wild, so she’s helped me make sure I get a lot done today and will remind me of that when I’m asking for my laptop to work during an ultrasound (true story… happened in the ER). She’s reminded me that I’m still adorable, even though I feel horrible, and she’s held me even though I’ve sworn I’m not scared and don’t need a hug.

It’s not the anniversary I planned, but in a way, it’s what I needed to take the next steps in our lives together. I hate that we’ve been through this, but there is something comforting in knowing that even through hospital visits and straws up my cervix, we can still have a good time, laughing at life, pushing through the hard, and loving each other even more for it.

Posted in Headline, Personal, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Why All Bloggers Should Care About BookCon’s Lack of Diversity

Book Expo America (“BEA”) is the leading North American publishing event, bringing publishers, authors, distributors and readers together in one location, the force of which sets standards for the whole publishing industry.

In an attempt to bring more readers to BEA, producers of the event created BookCon (formerly Power Readers Day), where readers can interact with their favorite authors at panels, Q&As, and book-signings.

That is, if their favorite authors are straight, white men.

28 out of the 29 guest authors on BookCon’s original line-up were white. The other was Grumpy Cat.

Read more about why diversity in publishing matters to bloggers and what we can all do to help fix this problem on my longer post over at BlogHer.com.


Posted in Books, Essays, Featured, Feminism, LGBT/Queer Politics, My Writing Elsewhere, Politics, Racial Politics | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Ten Words to Use Instead of Insane, Crazy, Lame, Gay or Retarded

Lately, I’ve found myself appalled at the derogatory language I use on a daily basis without even realizing it is derogatory.

That movie was so lame.
Woah, this line to Inn-N-Out is crazy.
Her outfit is totally insane.

I’m ashamed that – as someone who has bastioned the use of “gay” to mean homosexual, fabulous, happy or any of its actual definitions instead of an insult, and who quit using “retarded” a long time ago – it took a conversation I only by chance happened upon on Twitter for me to take a moment to even notice the issues with lame, crazy and insane (crazy and insane are words that degrade people with mental illness, and lame is an ableist term).

Oh well, we all have something to learn, and this was my lesson of the week. The only thing I can do is change my language from now on.

The problem is, how? Insane, crazy and lame are sadly an integral part of my vocabulary. When I tried to take them out, I found gaps in my conversation.

About a year ago, I tried to stop using “pimp” and found myself with the same problem. The minute I said no to pimp, it was all I wanted to say! What I did was find a go-to word to replace it, something I could quickly access instead.

For “pimp” that was easy, I was using it to mean “promote” so I just did a quick switch of the two words in my head. But I use lame, crazy and insane in varying ways, so a quick one word switch didn’t work for them.

Instead, I made a list of ten words to use instead, and I’m sharing them here with you all in case you too need some inspiration. Thanks to someone on Twitter (I don’t remember who but I thank you!) for helping me get started with “absurd.”

Ten Words to Use


10 Go-To Words to Use Instead of Crazy, Gay, Retarded, Lame or Insane

  1. Absurd
  2. Ridiculous
  3. Odd
  4. Silly
  5. Ludicrous
  6. Illogical
  7. Tedious
  8. Dull
  9. Grotesque
  10. Laughable

Not only do I feel like I’m not degrading someone’s experience or abilities by using these words, I also feel like I’m making better use of the complex English language, instead of just relying on easy slang.

What words are you trying to avoid? What words do you use instead?

Posted in Confessions, Featured, Politics, Words | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

Belly Aches, a.k.a. Fat-Shaming Has Made Me Afraid to Go to The Doctor

There is a sharp pain in my right side and I refuse to go to the doctor about it.

Here is why:

When I was 7, I went to my first fat doctor.

I remember sitting there naked with my father who had brought me in and having these two older men of power judge my young, female body in a way that felt like such a violation of my whole being.

The doctor talked to my father, around me, asking why one of my nipples was different than the other. I remember my father embarrassingly telling the doctor that I played with the bigger one constantly.

Then the doctor wrote down a diet plan, handed it to my father, and told me that if I ever wanted a boyfriend when I grew up, I needed to lose weight.

He then also told me I’d never be able to breast feed my future children if I didn’t stop playing with my nipple. After that, a nurse took my blood and gave me a lollipop for being good.

My mother never seemed to be in any photos, just taking them.

Me, at 7. I’m the chubby exhibitionist in the back.

When I was 13, I got an ovarian cyst.

It was my second time having one, so I knew what I was feeling. It hurt when I walked, it was halfway through my menstrual cycle and the pain was almost unbearable when I pressed against my side.

Still, the young male doctor who pushed his fingers far inside me without a warning and pressed firmly right on the spot where it hurt most of all, didn’t believe me. He made me out to be a hypochondriac, blamed the pain on period cramps (even though I was mid-cycle), and said one cyst was rare enough at my age, the chances are I didn’t have another one.

“I can’t feel one,” he said, “not that I could with your belly in the way.”

He then offered me a prescription for the diet pill Fen/Phen and pointing out my abnormal nipple and pubescent breast growth to a student nurse in the room.


I was definitely chubby as a kid. And gay. Oh so gay.

When I was 18, I got another ovarian cyst.

And it felt like a repeat of the same nightmare. Again, the young male doctor couldn’t feel anything through my belly and his frustration was taken out by literally yelling at me to lose weight. I yelled back that I wanted an ultrasound and, sure enough, there it was, a massive inflamed cyst.

He still refused to do anything about it and I stayed in bed for two weeks in pain.

When I was 26, my mother got diagnosed with breast cancer and blamed it on her love of ice cream.

Because weight is a factor her doctor listed on reasons why women get breast cancer. She’s also blamed her hesitation to go out in the sun, because lack of Vitamin D is also one of the listed reasons.

When I was 28, I went into Planned Parenthood for an STI screening and got a lecture about my weight.

“You’re doing something about that whole weight thing, right?” the female doctor said, looking at my chart, not at me. “Getting exercise?”

“I ride my bike everywhere and walk for at least an hour a day,” I said, which was true. I had just found out my (thin, considered healthy until he got cancer) brother was going to have his jaw removed, so I was constantly moving my body to keep away the tears.

“Well, make sure you get some cardio in there,” she said, closing my file and dismissing me.

When I was 29, my brother died, and I lost weight, and everyone congratulated me on it.

When I gained it back months later, my aunt warned me about eating my feelings. Then handed me a dozen cupcakes she had brought by for my family.

Just last week, my perfectly healthy friend died of a heart attack.

She was thin and athletic her whole life, the daughter of two physical education teachers. Every doctor I go to warns me that I will die young if I don’t lose weight, but I’ve been to three funerals in two years of people under age 30, all of which were thin.

And yet here I am, still alive.

Photo from my daily walk along the beach, which I do to decompress and keep my body in motion.

Photo from my daily walk along the beach, which I do to decompress and keep my body in motion.


There has been a persistent pain in my side for 36-hours and yet because it is in my belly, in my fat, I am afraid to go to a doctor. I am afraid of the poking and prodding into my self-consciousness, afraid that I will waste my time only to hear my issue being blamed on my belly’s size.

At some point, if this pain doesn’t go away, I’ll have to brave a doctor, but for now, I’d rather deal with an unknown pain in my side than step into the nightmare of the doctor’s office.

Photo by J.Robert Williams.

Photo by J.Robert Williams.


P.S. Here’s the great conversation that happened when I tweeted out “I hate how much I hesitate to go to the doctor for my stomach issues because I know they’ll just fat shame me.”


Having a bad day? We’re giving out free hugs!

Also check out my past post on the #NotYourGoodFatty movement on Twitter.

Posted in Body Positivity, Confessions, Essays, Gluttony, Headline, Health, Personal | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments