This is such a deeply important piece of writing, and one I will be sharing.
I am a small town preacher's daughter, recovering good girl, single mother of two. I grew up with so much shame around my sexual appetite, and that stayed with me until my mid 30's (when I came out, stumbled into non-monogamy, etc, etc).
It was important for me to write my way out of a world I no longer wanted to live in, and perhaps even more important for me to write my way into a world I wanted to belong to.
Most importantly I realized, somewhere along the way, that I am at least somewhat responsible for creating a world in which my daughters are handed something different than a madonna/whore dichotomy. That they don't have to be good girls OR bad girls, just to live their way into being whole humans. I want, for them, a world in which they are able to write and speak and create and live into that wholeness, as complex and messy as that might be.
Part of that responsibility for me, as a writer who makes a living spilling truths onto the page, is in developing the ability to sit with my own discomfort and refusing (as much as possible) my tendency to self censor for their comfort (or the comfort of others).
There are things about my sexuality and sex life, of course, that still don't get written. Some because it's fair and responsible, and some because I'm still working on being braver. But once they were old enough to know (and to have their own social footprint)I explained that they could opt-in or opt-out of reading, that they could change their minds on that decision as often as they needed to, but that I could not do my part in creating a world in which they could live the fullness of their own corporeal desires unless I was willing to speak the fullness of my own.
I still hold back more than I wish I did. But when I do I try to go back to that foundational decision, and the reason for it. It continues to serve me well.
My thus far only published short story (won a prize no less) involves two (unsatisfactory) sex scenes. I have to say when I submitted I didn’t give much thought to this element and it was only as it was being read out loud (and filmed) that I felt awkward. I’m kind of pleased it is a print only anthology and my relatives and non-writer won’t read it but I am also intensely proud I wrote it. The sex isn’t drawn from my current relationship, but that’s a nuance my in-laws might not get.
Your writing about queer sex was some of the first I encountered after coming out (though I nervously haunted the lesbian erotica section at a bookstore I used to work at) and I have devoured so much since-- both long-published classics and pretty much every book you’ve blurbed. So thank you for opening the floodgates.
I spent a nearly sleepless night rolling around with my overactive anxiety and woke this morning to find your post. And though my anxiety wasn’t about writing erotica, I find your words soothing, like they’re exactly the balm I needed this morning. I’m writing a memoir about growing up in a fundamentalist religion where women were exceptionally silent and submissive. My journey to finding my own voice has been long and weird and sometimes I still pull my punches. I am bookmarking this piece so when next I sit on the precipice of a scary section of memoir, I can remind myself that “I do not exist to be understood by every person who crosses my path.” Thank you for this. It was likely not your exact intention, but because of this post alone I am completely sold on the idea of a paid subscription! :)
I published a very short erotic piece some 20 years back. I told my parents that I’d published it and they said: that’s nice, honey, we won’t be reading it. Pretty sure that’s still the case today. 😆 Also, fellow Iowa alum here (‘07)...keep up the good work!
Oh my, thank you so much for writing this! As someone who used to write smut on secret tumblr accounts and now avoids sex scenes in stories I might possibly hope to one day see published, I think on this topic so often. I wonder what other writers think about it too—thank you for partially satisfying that curiosity. 🙂
Wow! Loved this. Saving it for reference. My own first as yet unpublished novel is raw on the sex and intentionally so. I've turned it upside down in my head and asked myself if it needs to be that way - and the only answer that comes back is 'yes.' Future novels may or may not have sex scenes that are explicit and blunt. I confess to loving a charming sex scene myself. BUT, I'm going to have to work with what the story needs. That's the guideline, not what readers or publishers might expect or prefer.
My current WIP is loosely based on my parents WWII love affair. It calls for a lusty sex scene and I’m struggling with depersonalizing the idea that my parents had sex. Your essay provided a new insight into my perspective about writing that scene.
This is perfection. Shared the link on my author's discord group. It's a discussion we've had there several times and it's one I will continue to have with people until the shame is gone. Thank you for this.
I made my dad read one of my short stories as well. His only comment was "but it's so sad! Why? Do you need help?" and, I mean, I appreciated the concern, but that was SO not the point of what I wrote.
I loved this piece, such an important topic, and not just about sex and erotica, but about what to expect from people when they read our stuff (should we expect something? Should they read it, should we 'prepare' them in advance for what they are going to find?). It's quite hard for me to accept that people I love are often incapable of understanding my art; I'm glad I'm not the only one experiencing this.
“How do you have the nerve to write some of the things you do?” I asked him. “Oh, it’s easy. I just pretend that I’m already dead.”
[Michel Houellebecq; interviewed by Susannah Hunnewell; The Paris Review No. 194, Fall 2010]
This is such a deeply important piece of writing, and one I will be sharing.
I am a small town preacher's daughter, recovering good girl, single mother of two. I grew up with so much shame around my sexual appetite, and that stayed with me until my mid 30's (when I came out, stumbled into non-monogamy, etc, etc).
It was important for me to write my way out of a world I no longer wanted to live in, and perhaps even more important for me to write my way into a world I wanted to belong to.
Most importantly I realized, somewhere along the way, that I am at least somewhat responsible for creating a world in which my daughters are handed something different than a madonna/whore dichotomy. That they don't have to be good girls OR bad girls, just to live their way into being whole humans. I want, for them, a world in which they are able to write and speak and create and live into that wholeness, as complex and messy as that might be.
Part of that responsibility for me, as a writer who makes a living spilling truths onto the page, is in developing the ability to sit with my own discomfort and refusing (as much as possible) my tendency to self censor for their comfort (or the comfort of others).
There are things about my sexuality and sex life, of course, that still don't get written. Some because it's fair and responsible, and some because I'm still working on being braver. But once they were old enough to know (and to have their own social footprint)I explained that they could opt-in or opt-out of reading, that they could change their minds on that decision as often as they needed to, but that I could not do my part in creating a world in which they could live the fullness of their own corporeal desires unless I was willing to speak the fullness of my own.
I still hold back more than I wish I did. But when I do I try to go back to that foundational decision, and the reason for it. It continues to serve me well.
Beautiful courage.
My thus far only published short story (won a prize no less) involves two (unsatisfactory) sex scenes. I have to say when I submitted I didn’t give much thought to this element and it was only as it was being read out loud (and filmed) that I felt awkward. I’m kind of pleased it is a print only anthology and my relatives and non-writer won’t read it but I am also intensely proud I wrote it. The sex isn’t drawn from my current relationship, but that’s a nuance my in-laws might not get.
Your writing about queer sex was some of the first I encountered after coming out (though I nervously haunted the lesbian erotica section at a bookstore I used to work at) and I have devoured so much since-- both long-published classics and pretty much every book you’ve blurbed. So thank you for opening the floodgates.
I spent a nearly sleepless night rolling around with my overactive anxiety and woke this morning to find your post. And though my anxiety wasn’t about writing erotica, I find your words soothing, like they’re exactly the balm I needed this morning. I’m writing a memoir about growing up in a fundamentalist religion where women were exceptionally silent and submissive. My journey to finding my own voice has been long and weird and sometimes I still pull my punches. I am bookmarking this piece so when next I sit on the precipice of a scary section of memoir, I can remind myself that “I do not exist to be understood by every person who crosses my path.” Thank you for this. It was likely not your exact intention, but because of this post alone I am completely sold on the idea of a paid subscription! :)
Thank you for this. Writing sex scenes has always seemed terrifying to me, and I've greatly admired how embodied and openly sexy your writing is.
Thank you. I loved reading this. As a somewhat repressed 75 year old, I salute you.
I published a very short erotic piece some 20 years back. I told my parents that I’d published it and they said: that’s nice, honey, we won’t be reading it. Pretty sure that’s still the case today. 😆 Also, fellow Iowa alum here (‘07)...keep up the good work!
thankyou for this ❤️
Oh my, thank you so much for writing this! As someone who used to write smut on secret tumblr accounts and now avoids sex scenes in stories I might possibly hope to one day see published, I think on this topic so often. I wonder what other writers think about it too—thank you for partially satisfying that curiosity. 🙂
Wow! Loved this. Saving it for reference. My own first as yet unpublished novel is raw on the sex and intentionally so. I've turned it upside down in my head and asked myself if it needs to be that way - and the only answer that comes back is 'yes.' Future novels may or may not have sex scenes that are explicit and blunt. I confess to loving a charming sex scene myself. BUT, I'm going to have to work with what the story needs. That's the guideline, not what readers or publishers might expect or prefer.
Both my parents and my grandma read my book and no one mentioned the sex scenes and I’m very happy about that.
Also this was also a beautiful post, thank you!
My current WIP is loosely based on my parents WWII love affair. It calls for a lusty sex scene and I’m struggling with depersonalizing the idea that my parents had sex. Your essay provided a new insight into my perspective about writing that scene.
This is perfection. Shared the link on my author's discord group. It's a discussion we've had there several times and it's one I will continue to have with people until the shame is gone. Thank you for this.
I made my dad read one of my short stories as well. His only comment was "but it's so sad! Why? Do you need help?" and, I mean, I appreciated the concern, but that was SO not the point of what I wrote.
I loved this piece, such an important topic, and not just about sex and erotica, but about what to expect from people when they read our stuff (should we expect something? Should they read it, should we 'prepare' them in advance for what they are going to find?). It's quite hard for me to accept that people I love are often incapable of understanding my art; I'm glad I'm not the only one experiencing this.
I like the title you have.