Two fresh rejections today. One for a story only myself and one person seem to like. It will be re-released into the wild here shortly.
I had my usual five minute rejected author snit. Complete with fuming and the declaration to my desk that they just cannot understand my fragile and wondrous genius (yes..that is sarcasm) and now back to work.
The ever delicious Remittance Girl posted an entry last night that has my mind working. Go see it here. Go on I’ll wait.
The bit that caught my attention in a special way is this:
As a writer of erotica, I’ve often tried to look at kink from obtuse angles. Perhaps because my personal kinks are so enormously obscure. So, I’ve tried to either approach familiar kinks from lateral perspectives or used storytelling to ask my readers to consider that there are kinky aspects to some of the most quotidian parts of life. Admittedly, I have always associated these kinks with sexual desire – but then I would, I’m an erotic fiction writer.
For many years I had no ambitions to write anything but erotica. I quite honestly did not think I could write anything but erotica.
I went through some things. Emotional things. Awful things. People I loved dying, going to prison, living horrible lives. I followed (at a far distance) a news story without much coverage at the time of an acquaintance who had been murdered. I remember reading those stories and thinking about the fact that she had told me after I wrote her a tiny poem to keep in her purse, that I had to keep writing and fuck everything else.
Fuck everything else.
For a few years I tried really hard to keep my smut smutty and my not smut clean and over time I figured out that’s not my thing.
The thing that RG’s post brought up in my head is how delighted I am when people find my less than obvious kinks or sex in stories. I find it especially exciting when something I hadn’t intended to make obviously SEXY in big bold moments, or KINKY get attention.
This is my version of slight self promotion with a few linkies.
One of the erotica pieces I’m most proud of is a gay (yes boy on boy) story I wrote a long time ago that was posted at Velvet Mafia. If you’re not into the boy on boy to sum up it was the start of my nameless characters.
There are two men in this story, one is getting fucked by a man who holds a knife to his throat.
When that was published I was so proud. Prouder still (I wish I’d held on to the email) someone sent an email to me trying to discover if I was in fact a woman. There was my kink.
I think I’m losing focus. I have a whole other thing about gender and how I present my gender identities and variants in my work.
Where was I? Kink. Right.
There have been other moments in things I’ve written where someone pointed out a thing they felt deeply. A friend of mine noticed in a story that I mentioned a tiny rough spot on a woman’s foot and he thought that was very erotic because he could really get into knowing that feeling and that means a lot to me.
There we have my big smutty writing kink.
Another one, is when people find kinky little things that I don’t leave in stories on purpose. I really love it when friends tell me that something I’ve written that may or may not be smut, tell me that I wrote something that turned them on and then tell me why. I love it when my friends say, “what the fuck is wrong with you woman” when I’ve written something that disturbs them.
I had an editor tell me how much he loved a piece but that it made him blush. I love that.
Those moments are honestly (this is after a lot of personal processing) the moments that feed me. I’m a terribly selfish creature. When I give pleasures and people tell me, especially if they are shy or awkward about it I feel so happy.
Okay that’s all. I have so much to do today it’s just not funny. Submissions to send out. Two of them. I have things to write. I need to work on my essay book. A quick word about that, the support from my regular (personal) blog readers has been so wonderful. So. Wonderful. I am really in love with my readers and their big open generous hearts.