Q. Summarize for us, why do you write sex fiction?
A. Recently a fellow writer told me that she’s not comfortable supporting erotica because she’s “a Christian”. I smiled. Smiling is often what I do when I’m reining in other, less polite, impulses.
One of my biggest challenges at being sex-positive is tolerating those, like the Christian writer, who are closed-minded. The idea of people using religious beliefs as an excuse to shun sexual art prompts dozens of snarky and defensive retorts in my mind. Like: God gave you a clit, too. Or What are you afraid of? But I digress. This is meant to be a summary. Plus, the sex-positive angel on my shoulder coaches me, “Let it go. Let it go.”
Not one to encourage conflict, letting it go is easy. Still, my imagination persists.
I find myself hoping that the good Christian woman clicked on my link despite her denouncement. I hope she skimmed a few paragraphs, lapped up an image or two, let her gaze graze a bit. I imagine her lingering with my words and needing to inhale more deeply than she wants to, feeling the urge to slide her hand into her pants or press a palm to her chest. I imagine whispering to her, God wants your every pleasure. God designed you to feel amorous.
She’s not one of my readers though. (If she told the truth).
My readers, the ones who aren’t waging an internal battle against their stunningly gorgeous human nature, happily read my stories naked. If I’ve done my job, they are rapt. Massaging their bodies, eventually closing the iPad cover to roll over and tussle themselves into orgasmic joy. Nothing delights me more than the idea of people who are compelled to self-pleasure from reading my work.
As for the writing process? When I’ve figured out who my characters are and what they want, I slip into their bodies and look around their world. I find out what’s in their way and watch to see what they’re going to do about it. Always, because this is erotica, someone’s going to touch someone else in a pleasure-giving way.
I’m there to dream it and record it and share it. In those moments, there is no Christian or Muslim or atheist, there is no gay or straight or bi, no thin or fat. There is only flesh–it’s warm–against my lips. Tongues reaching, limbs pressing, nerves firing. It’s a feast of pleasure. That’s what I get from writing these short stories. That’s what I hope to give.
I believe that’s how we’re designed.
Normally I edit to eliminate over-used words in my prose. I see now that I’ve used “pleasure” four times in nearly as many paragraphs. That’s kind of beautiful. An easy summarization: why sex fiction? Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure.
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