Erotica used to be the genre no one admitted to writing. Erotica authors used phony names and hid in small closets hunched over typewriters weaving their tales of sex and lust. Okay, maybe they had offices and eventually computers, and were not truly in hiding, but they were not as visible. Erotic fiction writers probably sat around in see-through clothing, drinking wine and listening to some second-rate jazz as they wrote. I don’t know why I think that this is how these writers created their work, but to me, it seems that this is the way it should have been.
Anyway, now Erotica is out in the open and it is where the real money is. If it’s not horny vampires romping around biting people until they reach the point of climax, it’s dominant males trying to make sex slaves out of naïve women. Am I disgusted? No, I like a good sex tale as much as the next middle aged woman, but I have to admit that, as a writer, I am jealous.
I am jealous on two levels: I am jealous because every professional editor I know has informed me that many of the Erotic fiction books represent mediocre writing at best. However, I have been in the writing biz long enough to know that it’s not quality that brings the big bucks home. Need proof? I have two words for you: Snooki Bestseller. So, what these authors lack in writing skill, they make up for in sexy plot twists which is enough to attract a large, love-starved audience. Look at the Fifty Shades Trilogy. Mostly every one of my friends has read at least one of these books, and they are not embarrassed to admit it. In fact, they want to tell their favorite part of the books to anyone who will listen.
The second reason why I am jealous is that I don’t think I can write Erotic fiction. I wish I could. I have secretly given it a whirl. I have sat at my computer tapping out suitable pen names that would fit an accomplished Erotica author. I might be wrong, but I just don’t think my name evokes that mysterious, temptress quality of a true Erotica writer, so I put my creative mind to work and came up with one or two names that I think would be good for my new personality. I considered Desiree Love and Delilah Cummings. I thought they were good, but one of my editor friends said they sounded more like D-list porn star names rather than Erotica names, so I crossed them off my pen name list and vowed to keep thinking.
Despite the fact that I have not found my Erotic fiction pseudonym as yet, I have thought about crafting a story…and this is about as far as I got. I started to write, but I have to tell you, 16 years of catholic school really makes it difficult to explore one’s sexual fantasies. You think you’ve left all that repression behind, but one attempt at Erotica and the guilt boomerangs back — sort of like the Shingles only it’s the You’re-Going to-Hell virus, which has been lying dormant in your system, until you write the words “ample bosom”. Then, suddenly you are struck down incapable of coherent thought and written word.
Have I given up on Erotica? Nope. I am nothing if not persistent. I think I will play around with the genre a bit and see if I can coax my writing mind into walking down that forbidden path. If I don’t get a bestselling book or movie deal like some of the other authors, maybe I can write an Erotic humor book and get people to laugh at my sexual exploits. Damn! That might just be the saddest sentence I have ever written.