PARAPHILIA

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) defines paraphilias as:

recurrent, intense sexually arousing fantasies, sexual urges, or behaviors generally involving 1) nonhuman objects, 2) the suffering or humiliation of oneself or one’s partner, or 3) children or other nonconsenting persons that occur over a period of at least 6 months.

The DSM only specifies nine paraphilias (exhibitionism, fetishism, frotteurism, pedophilia, sexual masochism, sexual sadism, transvestic fetishism, voyeurism, and a final category of “other” paraphilias).

http://sexuality.about.com/od/glossary/g/paraphilias.htm

I am delighted to present the third edition of Games Perverts Play, an anthology that is going from strength to perverse strength.

The writers featured here cover many of the paraphilias listed by the DSM, but what they do that the medical establishment fails to do, is to put into question how we draw the line between ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’ sexuality and psychology. They also manage to make the ‘abnormal’ seem quite beautiful in places.

Paraphilia includes work from some talented writers not previously featured at GPP. The essays by  Natty Soltesz and James Maker remind us that essay writing is an art in itself. I am also excited to introduce new fiction from Elise Moore and Magda Sullivan which does not pull any punches.Élodie Malade has kindly submitted a beguiling tale of love on the Paris metro.

Elliott Deline returns to GPP with a brilliant new story, and  Penny Goring, Dan Holloway and Marc Nash work their usual magic. I do not know what Marc Horne has been up to, but I sense his presence here, somewhere. And Mark Simpson  reminds us that one man’s paraphilia is another man’s ‘normality’, in his trademark irreverent  style.

Thanks to  Chris Floyd and Steve Sparshott for donating photographs, and special thanks to Mark Simpson  and Dan Hollowayfor introducing me to some of the great writers featured here.

I found Paraphilia a difficult subject to write about, and in the end I submitted an old piece of writing, and an essay by Roland Barthes. I don’t know how or why, but when it comes to the workings of my twisted heart and mind, Roland Barthes manages to express myself better than I ever could. This is dedicated to him.

Quiet Riot Girl

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