Like many writers, I’m a bit of an introvert.
Okay, that’s not exactly true. It’s more like this: if I had a choice between hosting a dinner party or shoving hot bamboo under my fingernails, I’d choose bamboo every time.
For me, the act of calling attention to myself is loathsome. But calling attention to my work is another story. I’m proud of my work. It’s still a little rough around the edges, but I like to think that there’s a place for it. And in today’s competitive market, writers can’t just sit back in their little INFJ hidey-holes with their sweatpants on and their cats and let the world pass by.
(Not that I have cats. Or sweatpants.)
Here’s the other thing: I write erotica. My work is steamy, spicy, often full of taboos. I write it for myself, and for free sites that shall remain nameless (at least for now), and for my amazing other half who is as supportive a chap as any could be. As of June 6th, 2014, I’m also writing it for you.
So for now, baring all is just too much. It’s hard to “come out” as an erotica writer. It all sounds doable in theory, but then there’s the co-worker who wants to know why you’ve been going to the library every night, or the long-lost high school frenemy who wants to know what you’re doing for a living, or the grandma who just got the internet and wants to find your work… You get the idea. I have a daughter and a bunch of former students in their early twenties. I do not want to be the one who teaches them about edge play. *Ahem.*
A few people do know: my best childhood girlfriend, who read my very first (8th grade) attempt at a romance novel. My boyfriend. A handful of others. My daughter (“ish-“…she tells me she “doesn’t want the details” but is happy I’m finally writing). It’s very inner-circle.
And now this inner circle includes you – if you enjoy the steamy, the spicy, the taboo. I write alpha males with a feminist bent, heroines who don’t let sexual opportunities pass them by, doms and subs with emotional bonds much stronger than steel chains. So, come and visit. Then come back. E-mail me, because as long as I don’t have to host your dinner party I’ll be super excited to meet you. Tell me what you think.
Just don’t tell my grandma what I wrote.
To spicy tales,