51,687 and other musings about sex

I was just checking the stats on some of my stories, and one of the stats is number of reads. I was stunned to see that one of them has been read 51,687 times, give or take. That's a heck of a lot of people! I don't think I could name a thousand people. But to think that over 50k have had a glimpse into my fantasy world is just astounding. And that means a great portion of them have probably used my story to generate their own erotic (or autoerotic) experience. Freaky to think about.

On TV this past week, I watched three episodes of The History of Sex. It was fascinating to see just how much sex was an integral part of cultures throughout history. I was also amused by the way Christianity was determined to quash as much of our sexual nature as possible.

My husband laughed when he heard that Martin Luther was excommunicated several times from the Catholic Church. Guess I'm in good company - but the Lutherans only excommunicated me once. Luther, it seems, had pretty definite ideas about the Catholic church's ban on marriage for priests, and included it in his 95 Theses. (Probably why we never did get to read those in my Lutheran grade school. Too racy, I imagine.) He went on to not only marry, but his bride was a nun. Well, former nun. She got the boot too. I hadn't realized that there was a time in the early Catholic church when priests were allowed to marry and have children, and then the Church changed its mind, because they felt sex was taking the men's attention away from the Church. And now we have priests preying on young men (and presumably some young women). Sex continues to take their focus away from the church. Maybe they should be allowed to marry again.

Getting back into the swing of things

I've been a bad blogger. I neglected these little public diaries for almost a year, but since they haven't developed any sort of a following, I don't suppose anyone has missed me.

I did manage to get a few stories written in the past year, although under my new pseudonym, they're not getting as much traffic as I'd like. The "old me" had quite a following, but when I had to head underground, there was no way to notify my groupies. To them, I just disappeared, leaving only poetry behind. So I'm thinking perhaps I can use this blog to drum up some new readership and maybe get things going again. It's hard to write without a good fan base to write for.

On another note, I'm contemplating incorporating some new methods into a story. I was thinking about maybe a sex swing. (Click to see a video if you're over 18 and it's legal for you to do so.) Do you think enough readers would understand what it is that I could put it into a story without too much in the way of explanation? I think it raises all sorts of interesting questions - like, "Son, what is that and why is it hanging in your library?" - "Gee, mom, that's Susie's new exercise equipment. She's really getting a good workout every time she uses it." It could certainly create some interesting scenes, not to mention sensations (...you spin me 'round like a record baby...)

But then there's the Tantra Chair. For only $999 plus shipping, this too can be yours, designed to last a lifetime and to bring you pleasure like you've never experienced before. And I do have to say, if I didn't have a garage to fix and a billion other projects in this money pit I call home, I'd be tempted. Seriously seriously tempted. And it could certainly make for an interesting location in a story, don't you think?

But then I ran across this, in my quest for interesting sex furniture. It comes with a carrying case, so you can travel with it. (Yeah - like you're gonna get THAT through airport security! Although it does sort of resemble a luggage rack you'd find in a hotel room...) However, I'm wary of any site that can't spell "beginner" correctly.

That's enough for today, folks. If those links don't get your imagination going on this Freaky Friday, then you might want to check your pulse.

'Til next time....

Pop the Clutch: The challenges of starting a new story.

I've started a new story. It's not going well. I have this great idea, but I'm having a hard time fleshing it out. Why? Well, for a long time, I wrote stories that were based on situations I had been in. And when you write from experience, it's very easy to capture (or re-capture) that sense of being there, because you can draw on your memories to pull in details. But when you're writing a story that has no basis on your own personal experience, it can be very difficult to create those details in your mind. I find that I have to trick my mind into believing I lived the story in order to write it. It can be easy sometimes, but this time I'm having trouble. Here's the premise of the story:

Girl has her first real corporate job after college. She has a lot of student loans, and an entry level position doesn't pay quite enough to pay the loan payment. She answers an ad for modeling - she did a little runway modeling for a mall when she was in high school, never still photography, but she figures it can't be that hard. She follows the directions to the location - it's a seedy part of town, a loft in an old warehouse or factory of some sort. The photographer lives there, and the other model has already arrived. They are being shot for a series of erotic book covers, and the male model is incredibly good looking, so she thinks this will be a piece of cake, although she's a little reluctant at first - her religious upbringing creates guilt that gnaws at the corners of her mind. Several shoots later, the male model seduces her while they are filming, she forgets about the photographer and camera...you get the picture. (Pun intended.)

I've never modeled. Never really wanted to. I like photography, but I know nothing about it beyond point and shoot and a little shot composition. So I'll have to do a little photography research, I think, and I need to get myself into a model's frame of mind. I understand the desperation of needing money to make ends meet - when I was out of college, I worked at Pizza Hut to supplement the income from my first two "real" jobs (which weren't all that real, given they were telemarketing and phone sales). Yes, I was a Pizza Slut. But it was a decent job and meant that I had to buy very little in the way of groceries, because I'd eat dinner there and bring mistakes home for lunch the few next days. I also worked with some really great people - we were like a dysfunctional family, but we knew how to have fun.

So back to the story. That's where I'm at. I have a plot outlined, and I've started writing the first draft. I've gotten her to the photo shoot. She has that fake bravado that recent college grads adopt, that sense of "I can do anything! I have a diploma!" is still fresh, and the looming student loan payment is enough impetus to push her through the heavy sliding door at the end of the hall.

Are you intrigued? I am. While I have no interest in modeling, it's still a story that has the potential to get me going. I was young and innocent once, full of imagined experience. I want to know what happens next.

Snow and its effect on writing

It's snowing today. A steady stream of white that blankets the world in crisp cold sheets. It is the perfect day to write. A steaming cup of cocoa laced with amaretto or rum, a bowl of freshly popped popcorn (the homemade on the stove kind, not that chemical aftertaste microwave crap), and a cozy spot by the window with a wireless laptop and a soft snuggly blanket is a recipe for a good story.

So what's the problem? I'm supposed to be working. I have a real job, you see, and I work at home most of the time. Today is one of those work at home days. But I don't feel like working. I feel like writing a steamy story.

Snow has that effect. It doesn't just spin cars off the road, but it has a way of spinning me off track too. But, then again, I get distracted easily. See, here's the other issue. I'm a little horny. And I have a hard time writing stories about sex when I'm horny. It's a strange problem to have. I'm sure you're thinking, "well then take care of it and get on with the story writing!" I know, I know. And I could. But I'm feeling a little masochistic right now too, so I'm denying myself that little release until I've gotten some work done. It's a vicious cycle.

Erotica vs. Porn

Is there a difference?

If you read my first posting, you've no doubt figured out that I was excommunicated from my church because some nimwit who didn't know how to use the internet accidentally discovered that I write erotic fiction and post it on the internet, and decided to tell everyone she knew, including the Pastor. I was condemned for being a blatant and unrepentant sinner, knowingly leading others astray by my sinful hobby.

In the months since then, I've been doing a lot of soul-searching and investigating to see if I can figure out whether there is or isn't a difference between porn and erotica. What do you think?

I know what my former Pastor believes - there is no difference. Apparently if you're Lutheran, you are not allowed to have a sex life beyond missionary position lights out sex on Saturday nights with your husband or wife. I'm not a very good Lutheran, apparently.

I know what my friends and fellow writers believe - there is a difference. Erotica has a plot, with character development. It has some redeeming literary quality beyond just being a stroke story. It explores some facet of relationships, life, or humanness. It is geared more toward women, and often includes some hint of romance. Erotica relies on symbolism and subtext and imagery to add other dimensions to the story. Porn is about making objects of women (primarily) and is targeted to getting the viewer/reader off as quickly as possible. It's "insert tab A into slot B", a money shot, and cheesy music.

I've been writing erotica since I was in high school. I'm 32 now, so we're talking close to 20 years (I started high school when I was 13). And I have to tell ya, I really like writing it. And I know a lot of people who really like reading it. I get more fan mail than I know what to do with sometimes, a lot of it from couples who have thanked me for putting some spice back in their sex life. They're reading it together, or she's reading it to him, or vice versa, to get in the mood. So does that make me a sex therapist as well? But I digress...

In my opinion, erotica is as much about the imagination and the largest sex organ - the mind - as it is about the sex. It's about drawing the reader into a story, giving them a peek into someone else's bedroom where they can either play the role of the voyeur or imagine themselves acting out a secret fantasy. I try to create stories about real people having real sex. There are no impossibly perfect buxom blonds with wasp waists in my stories. There are no body building hunks fixing the cable in their speedos. It's the couple next door, or the college students down the hall.

I've had complaints from a few readers who wanted the porn - who wanted the sex up front in the first scene, and the orgasm within two pages. Sorry, guys - if that's what you want, then don't read my stuff. I write what I like to read. Porn is easy to come by (pun intended), but it's not what I write. Well - that's not to say that I haven't started off a story in bed, but there's certainly more to it than that, and there's generally a better sex scene later in the story as a reward for those who keep reading!

A lot of readers want the build-up. They want the anticipation. They want to be seduced. Erotica does that. Porn just bends 'em over, fucks 'em hard, and leaves 'em unsatisfied.

That's what I think. What about you?