Go Deeper, Baby

When I tell folks I write erotic fiction, some assume the process is shallow.  I'm not saying it's never so, but it's also kind of deep, so I thought I'd share a few of the more challenging things the genre has taught me:

1. It is terribly, vitally important to always write the truth - as in, the stuff you sense or feel inside, not the stuff you believe you should write.  If you fake it, no one will feel it.  I can't think of a worthier lesson than that.

2. People who believe passionately in sexual expression are often the most authentic and caring of all.  Note that I've always been treated with the utmost respect by editors of erotic fiction.

3. I write erotica, not pornography.  Though both are art forms, I believe there's a major difference. In my view, erotica relies, at least in part, on storytelling talent and the ability to portray feeling and sensation through language.  Pornography is a graphic and visual array of sex images that's less likely to be story- or feeling-driven -- usually it's about inciting sensation and the focus is on the concrete image.  Each genre expresses in a different way and requires different work (!) from its viewers.  My friend reminded me that porn can cover stories too.  Plus there's a difference between erotic art and porn.  Perhaps it's to do with the kind of crafting that takes place?  I think, at the end of the day, it's probably an issue of viewpoint!

4. A truth I learned through writing and reading erotica: I wish I had lost my virginity later and learnt to be unashamed of my sexuality earlier.

5. I think Nabakov's Lolita is a work of profound beauty and bravery.  It's deeply troubling too.  What great works aren't?

6. Through embracing my own sexuality, I've not only grown in wisdom, guts and humour, but also in innocence.  I face what I don't know about yet with an open-eyed awe.

7. Touching an arm or kissing a neck can be every bit as erotic as taking someone roughly; in fact, if the gesture is truly felt by the writer, a caress can be miles more powerful than a thrust.

8. Erotica is FUN.  (Okay, that's not so challenging, but what the hell?  It's true).

There.  That's just a few.  

I love this genre.  

Alison's Wonderland, Coming Soon...

I'm pleased to announce that yours truly will be appearing in "Alison's Wonderland", an erotic anthology edited by the fabulous Alison Tyler, to be published in July 2010 by Harlequin Spice.  Needless to say, I'm thrilled about this.  And of course, those who know the genre will understand why I'm doubly flattered when you read the list of contributors:

The Red Shoes (Redux) by Nikki Magennis

Fool's Gold by Shanna Germain

The Three Billys by Sommer Marsden

David by Kristina Lloyd

Managers and Mermen by Donna George Storey

The Clean-Shaven Type by N.T. Morley

The Midas F*ck by Erica DeQuaya

Sleeping with Beauty by Allison Wonderland

Unveiling His Muse by Portia Da Costa

Always Break the Spines by Lana Fox

An Uphill Battle by Benjamin Eliot

Moonset by A.D.R Forte

Mastering Their Dungeons by Bryn Haniver

A Taste for Treasure by T.C. Calligari

The Broken Fiddle by Andrea Dale

The Cougar of Cobble Hill by Sophia Valenti

Wolff's Tavern by Bella Dean

Slutty Cinderella by Jacqueline Applebee

Kiss It by Saskia Walker

Let Down Your Libido by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Dancing Shoes by Tsaurah Litzky

Gold, On Snow by Janine Ashbless

After the Happily Every After by Heidi Champa

Cupid Has Signed Off by Thomas S. Roche

The Walking Wheel by Georgia E. Jones

Rings on My Fingers by Alison Tyler

The Princess by Elspeth Potter

Can't wait for this to happen.  Thanks to Alison, the authors and the folks at Spice.

Here's How We Do It In Boston

Yesterday night, as I awaited a train, I noticed a man staring at me, his body rigid.  I thought nothing of it until the woman sitting next to me leaned in close and whispered, "You see that man?  He's playing with himself."

I didn't need to look to know she was telling the truth; it simply hadn't occurred to me that his "rigidity" was masturbatory!  I shrugged, but the woman continued.  "Should I tell the police?  I don't know what to do."

I explained that I wouldn't worry.  There weren't any kids around.  I'd hardly even noticed him, and if you got the police involved they'd likely send him along and he'd probably end up doing it somewhere else.  

She raised her eyebrows and nodded.  "I guess you're right.  But I'm not from Boston," she added, "so I didn't know what I should do."

This seemed to me a curious response.  I mean, you do what you feel, right?  If it makes you uncomfortable, you get some help; if it doesn't you sigh and carry on.  What does it have to do with geographical location?  Snort.  But she seemed quite relaxed now we'd had the conversation.  Sometimes all we long for is reassurance.

And yet, here's the question:  If we had called the cops and got the guy removed, would that really have helped?  Maybe, because folks who felt intimidated would have been supported - but what's the root cause of a guy touching himself up in a train station? 

Loneliness I wouldn't wonder. 

Emptiness.  A lack.  

And I ask myself why wasn't I uncomfortable?  Here's what I come up with:  I know sex isn't just about sex.