Hey, everyone! You may all think I’m suffering some sort of steampunk kick; but as you heard in my previous podcast, it is the focus of my attentions. My current work-in-progress now circulating the market is a steampunk romp entitled Books & Braun: Volume One — Phoenix Rising, co-written with Philippa Ballantine. I have always been fascinated with this sub-genre ever since hearing about it from two of the most creative people I know, J.R. Blackwell and Jared Axelrod.

And it was another creative type, the incredibly-witty, and delightfully-sultry Gail Carriger who — in a ways and means of promoting her paranormal steampunk romance, Soulless — made the offer to write guest blogpost.

Gail is my first. You always remember your first…

So I’m bumming about the internet, as you do, and Tee tweets me…

“Wanna guest blog?” says he.

“Delighted,” says I. “Got a topic?”

“What makes Steampunk so sexy?” says he.

Obviously, first and foremost, one word: corsets. There are a number of fine corsets (on the outside and underneath, worn by men and women) bumming about the steampunk scene. But as scrumptious as they are, there’s also that jodhpurs and newsboy cap look (yummy!) and never discount how truly hot a man (or cross-dressing woman) in proper fitted evening dress, or, for that matter the adorable grease monkey. Those flashes of brass, the occasional interesting adornment or mechanical arm which force one to look closer, to ask questions, these only serve to make the person wearing the outfit more intriguing and approachable, that to is super sexy too. Because what it means is that the person behind the outfit is creative and smart – frankly, it there anything more sexy than that?

So we’ve dealt with the sexy surface features of steampunk, shall we delve underneath? There’s that attitude, no don’t ghetto-neck at me, not that kind of attitude. One of the best bits of the Victorian era that steampunk has gently been reviving is the manners and the politeness. Online in forums, or out and around the maker’s circuit, running into fellows of a steamy inclination at fairs or conventions, I’ve found they are genuinely pleasant to be around. I don’t know about you, but I find ladylike and gentlemanly behavior extremely sexy.

And then, I hope you’ll forgive me for going slightly philosophical here, there’s this overtone of visible technology. We live in an age where technology has become hidden away in little silver boxes. Steampunk has taken the machine and made it a work of art, and it gorgeous. Suddenly, we get to see the gears and guts spread out before us. There’s something lascivious and yes, a little dirty about that.

Also, very very sexy…

Ms. Carriger began writing in order to cope with being raised in obscurity by an expatriate Brit and an incurable curmudgeon. She escaped small town life and inadvertently acquired several degrees in Higher Learning. Ms. Carriger then traveled the historic cities of Europe, subsisting entirely on biscuits secreted in her handbag. She now resides in the Colonies, surrounded by a harem of Armenian lovers, where she insists on tea imported directly from London and cats that pee into toilets. She is fond of teeny tiny hats and tropical fruit. Soulless is her first book.