Today is the last day of the blog tour for Voyeur Eyes Only. Here’s a link to the last stop along the tour. As I read what Jade Melisande had to say this morning, I found myself wanting to go to another conference. It’s not that I want to hit Vegas again, it’s more that I want to find myself surrounded by all these wonderful writers I met and get another jolt of that “camaraderie” I felt while there. Being in a world populated by people who share my world is…simply…wonderful. Until the next conference though, I’ll have to make do with the internet connections I’m making over Facebook and Twitter. Each day, I add new friends and connections to my erotic world.
In my every day life, I’m careful about how I share what I do. People tend to respond in one of two ways. Either they are interested and use my gentle opening as an opportunity to share their enthusiasm, or they are clearly not and change the subject. One friend, who is likely reading this post, said, “Oh, I love erotica. Read it all the time.” Another friend, without hearing the details about the explicit nature of what I write literally began to back away from me. The look on her face was a mixture of confusion, shock, and clear disgust. (And that was without me being at all specific.) This friend is rather…erm…on the uptight end of things generally and one of those feminists who think SLUT Walks are not a good idea. It was clear she did not want any details, and I wasn’t going to hand them over. We talk about other things.
However, I do, very often have people ask what my nym is. Most recently my mom’s sister asked me to share it with her. We had talked at our family reunion about writing, and I had told her rather quietly that I was writing erotica. (And, I do hope you’re reading this right now, my dear aunt–because YOU ROCK!) After posting something nebulous on Facebook like “Another story accepted–Woot!” she asked me to share my work with her. So, I sent her this basic message, just so we were clear:
So, here’s the thing. I don’t share my pen name with people unless they promise to the following rules of engagement and understanding.
1. do not share my pen name further –even if someone claims to have known it but just forgotten about it–always refer whoever is asking directly back to me.
2. That if you read my work you must understand it is FICTION and that husband and I are NOT the characters in the story
3. Just because I might write something convincingly does not mean I have actually done the thing I am writing about.
4. I write about a wide range of sexual activities in graphic detail–this is not “throbbing manhood” and “Pulsing heat” it’s “Thrusting cock into moist wet pussy” sort of writing. Sometimes it involves ropes, leather, anal sex, group sex, lesbian sex, gay sex, and the like.
So, if you are STILL thinking you will be okay with all of THAT, I’ll send you links to my website and the one book that is currently out.
I am just cautious on this because I have some fairly close personal friends who have spoken out against this kind of writing as being anti-feminist. What they don’t seem to be willing to hear is that the majority of erotica is written by women for women.
Her response was one that had me willing to send her my links and trust her with my pen name. I hate to admit this, but I could NEVER have shared what I do with my mother. Our only direct discussion about sex happened when I was ten when she handed me a pamphlet about menstration (pink) and a pamphlet about sexuality (blue). She asked me to read them and then ask if Ihad any questions. She added that she thought sex was wonderful, but it was like the icing on a cake. The cake, a loving relationship, had to be there to support the icing. At age ten, that just confused me a little bit. I was picturing something similar to the image at the top of this post. Sex on cake? What? (Oh…new story idea!) Anyway…I can hardly ever eat cake without a smile on my face because cake has forever and inextricably been connected to sex in my mind. I get what she was saying, but I also think icing is just fine on it’s own.
Did I mention my aunt is going to be seventy-eight this year? I love that she’s not judgmental, that she’s still interested in reading about sex, and just such a cool person. I miss my mom tremendously, but I feel grateful to have my dear aunt in my life.