Sunday, September 15, 2013

Confessions of a Bashful Erotica Writer

The First Confession: 

At first I found it very hard to tell people I write Erotica. Sometimes, I still do.

"I, um, write stuff that's know...hey! Look! It's starting to rain!"

For months I'd been agonizing: should I come out of the bedroom (so to speak) to my extended family about my new incarnation as a published writer of explicit erotica? Or should I keep it to myself, knowing that there may be some uncomfortable moments because much of my family is quite religious? My husband (decidedly not religious) has been supportive all along of my writing, no matter what form it took. He's read everything I've ever written, offering spot-on editorial advice. He was the first to tell me my erotica was hotter than hot. But he was my husband, my best friend...he would accept me no matter what I did.

That left the rest of the world. Who to tell? When to tell them? A hard decision, to be sure.

On one hand, I want the entire world to know what I'm doing. I've always been like that - I adore talking about my creative endeavors.  I love sharing the things I'm working on with family and friends, even the occasional stranger. When my Art Jewelry business was running full swing, I was always dragging out a necklace or bracelet or earrings to show people even when they didn't necessarily want me to...handmade pieces such as the silver bracelets pictured below. My erotic writing is no different - I want to show that off, too. 

(To see my jewelry website, please visit )

On the other hand, it's erotica! Everyone thinks that erotica means dirty stuff, trashy stories that are little better than (gasp!) pornography. I know there's a difference between porn and erotica, but I'd rather not try to describe that difference when all I want to do is talk about my delightful characters and how much they're, ahem, getting it on. And to tell how I write my erotic novels with the same care and attention to detail and characterization and plot as I put into any other work. Because it's true.

The Second Confession:

I don't care what Mom thinks. At least, not as much as I thought I did.

"Mom? You like my book, Mom? Really? Tell me the truth!"

When I finally told my mother about my new life as a writer of erotica, of explicit sex scenes, she laughed. She laughed! Even more surprising, she read my first published erotica novel, America's Darlings, and loved it. Perhaps this wouldn't be so hard after all.

I began to tell more and more people. Friends, my grown children, relatives. Those I didn't tell found out via my ecstatic posts on Facebook as I went through the publishing process of one erotic novel, and then another.  Much to my surprise, none of them had a heart attack at the news.

The Third Confession:

I'm not an expert on Sex. Seriously. I'm not. (But I'm working on it.)

I was at a large family event last week. Aunts and Uncles and cousins and old family friends - and one old gentleman who slapped me on the back and wanted to know "if I had any secrets I could share with him" and "you must have to spend a lot of time studying up on this stuff, right? Get it? Study up! Har, har, har!" 

I wasn't surprised. Every writer of sexy books gets their share of these types of questions and comments. In fact, I was rather pleased. I went home and wrote about it in my notes - my first inappropriate erotica comments! I'd arrived! 

Fourth Confession

It has improved my personal sex life. And that's all I'm saying.

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