I received the uniquely interesting comment below a little while back, which prompted what turned out to be an unexpectedly lengthy response from me. When I tried to send it to the commenter’s email, it bounced. It’s rare that I get considered criticism like this about my writing (it’s usually something relatively unconstructive like, “condoms aren’t sexy”), so I decided that it would be worthwhile to publish the exchange as a post. In my responses, I’ve made some assumptions about my readership and would be interested to hear where folks fall on the spectrum between the two extremes laid out here.
Please do me the favor of keeping any comments as polite and respectful as you usually do.
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Love your Open Door Policy! Love how it progresses. Love how your character gives free rein to her emotions and hormones.
I also love how your characters ENJOY their care for each other and their “new” appreciation of their bodies and their shared openness.
However, permit me to comment on the pen name you’ve taken, and the related terminology that creeps into your narration.
I find myself a bit disheartened at the pejorative or negative word choices. “Dirty” (Dirty Minded Mom) and “Nasty” seem to hearken back to the sinful era of erotic writings. The indulging in sexual conduct was itself such a forbidden activity, that the writers had to have an excuse to dare to write. So, they wrote about what were described as variations of violation, sin, perversion, and the like. It was not acceptable (in their minds) to enjoy sexual behavior.
There is an analogous tone in some sexual fantasy that describes the women as “sluts,” “whores,” and “cunts.” It’s as if the writers are trying to excuse their writings by wanting to imply that they are justified in writing what they call “pornography,” because they want to be seen as exposing the evil conduct of their characters. For myself, when I see those pejorative terms in the titles, I skip the story, because those pejorative words don’t harmonize with my strong appreciation of delighted enjoyment of the sexual conduct of happy and joyful characters.
The tone of Open Door Policy is very joyful as far as the characters go. They deeply RELISH what they are lucky enough to do. The re-occurring denigration of their behavior is unsettling to persons like me. It’s like writing about a joyful child, but then repeatedly stressing that the child is disobeying his/her parents, because he/she is playing in the water. The occurrence of the description of the child as somehow inappropriate puts a dampener on what should otherwise be a joyful and happy story about a delightful child.
Similarly, the reoccurring characterization of sexual enjoyment as “nasty” or “dirty” seems to echo the high-school sophomore mentality that seems to be based on bad behavior when thinking of sexual activity.
The activity described by you in Open Door Policy is outside the bounds of most cultures, but it is not an essentially immoral activity. You are describing a joyful and nurturing and enhancing interaction between alive and vibrant and caring characters. I love that and wish it dominated erotic writing, rather than the vein of pejorative attitudes in many writings.
I don’t mean to say that the stories can’t include reality of life situations or that stories have to be rose-colored glasses stories. It’s the tone that has to characterize sexual conduct as foul in some way that I am attempting to describe, and that I regret.
You have built a history using the pen name you use, and that history, reputation, fame, etc. has a reality with momentum. However, if it ever occurs to you to invent an alter-ego author who has a joyful and deeply pleased at being a sexual actor rather than an actor with references to underlying shame at her conduct, do not close out that alter-ego who can build her own gleeful and luscious lustiness.
Let me close with my awe at how skillful you are in the use of language. Your dialogues are natural. You weave in comments in passing that brilliantly describe some aspect of the character or the situation. You write so well that the reader is sitting on your shoulder seeing and hearing everything your characters do. Without having to construct extended descriptions, you succinctly put almost all of your characters’ perceptions into your very smoothly flowing writing.
- L
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Thank you so much for your feedback and your insights regarding erotic stories.
I respect your viewpoints on what a story should be, but I found it amusing that you said the terminology you opposed “creeps” into my narratives – as if it was something not quite within my control. I just want to make sure up front that you understand there is an intentionality behind my terminology and that I’m making very deliberate choices about the words, situations, attitudes, and tones I use in my work. Nothing is “creeping” into my writing – I’m deliberately putting it there.
Please don’t get me wrong – I appreciate your sex-positive perspective and agree that taking such an approach can most definitely result in some beautifully erotic stories. The only problem for me is that’s not the sort of story I’m interested in (at least not right now). At the end of the day, I’m creating jerk off stories. I’m a staid, conservative wife and mother by day, and I want to be a raunchy provocateur by night. I do think of my stuff more as porn than erotica – but this is not because I want to pillory my characters for their transgressive behavior, but rather I do it for the prurient (and, yes, sophomoric) thrill it gives me. I want men and women to be hunched over my stories in the dark masturbating to the taboo scenes I’ve imagined. I want to be their guilty pleasure.
In my real life I have a wonderful, loving, and joyful sexual relationship with my husband. But I also have a somewhat darker sexual relationship with myself. I grew up with a lot of shame, confusion, and fear of sex. It was a grand mystery and I desperately wanted to understand what it was. This atmosphere of repression, I believe, led to my inappropriate fantasies involving my sexually uptight family members. There were a lot of negative feelings about my desires, which ended up being mixed with the sublime pleasures of masturbation and eventually sex. I may be a somewhat broken as a result, but for me these negative emotions that are embedded in my conception of sexuality enhance rather than detract from it.
I’m willing to acknowledge that this may have stunted my emotional development when it comes to sex. Having a more adjusted, positive, and mature apprehension of sexuality would most likely allow me to have a more elevated experience with my partner, but paradoxically that doesn’t appeal to me. I like my dirty secrets and guilt-laced private fantasies. I enjoy the added taint of shame when I masturbate, hiding it from my husband. Even as an adult, the fear of getting caught pleasuring myself only makes it better when I achieve my climax with the added sense that I got away with something. I seems sad, I know, but that’s how I was put together.
With that being me, the stories I was drawn to were never about the joyous consummation of erotic fulfillment – they were about the dirty, nasty, filthy, depraved, and debaucherous aspects of sex. It was only natural, then, that when I started writing, this was the kind of story I gravitated toward. I love using dirty words. I adore having my characters use the most lascivious language I can think of, and display their bodies in the lewdest possible ways. I want to wallow in the degradation and iniquity of it all. But, strangely enough, I also wanted there to be a true sense of love at the core of it all.
What it comes down for me, and a lot of my readers, is that incest fantasies (as well as most of the other stuff I write) have a lot to do with acceptance. Many men write to me and tell me that they love mother/son porn, but are not at all sexually attracted to their own mother. The taboo aspect is part of it, but underneath that is a desire for unconditional love and acceptance. Alone we feel dirty, nasty, filthy and depraved, but idea that we can show that side of ourselves to another person and they embrace it provides a deeply satisfying catharsis for many readers (often without them being consciously aware of it).
I suppose, as you posit, that there are writers out there who resort to using “pejorative” terms like slut and whore (which my characters do a lot of in the most current chapter of Open Door Policy for reasons very close to what you suggest), but I think it’s important to consider that perhaps yours isn’t a one-size-fits-all explanation for using words with that kind of negative connotation. I feel like I use my dirty words not as a denigration of sex, but as a form of celebration. I see it as an expression of the freedom to use what society considers negative, and defiantly own it in a way that heightens pleasure. I love it when my husband gets so excited during sex that he calls me his slut. It tells me that his lust has reached the point where he feels safe to let loose and that he trusts me not to turn his vulnerability in that moment against him.
Another element at play that is important to consider is the basic nature of storytelling. If all characters were sexually well-adjusted people, that would make for boring characters. If all relationships were loving and stable, those would be uninteresting relationships. If all the sex was convivial and un-tainted, there would be a lot of lackluster sex scenes. In a story, it’s the interactions between conflicted, imperfect characters who conduct themselves inappropriately out of a sense of shame, anger, or guilt that generate the most intriguing scenes. From my perspective, as a reader and a writer, story about happy people having happy sex sounds rather dull to me.
I’ll grant that perhaps I’m deluding myself and your hypothesis is entirely correct, but I do feel there are shades of gray (probably more than 50) when it comes to depicting sex as something dirty, and characterizing the people who have unconventional fetishes as perverts. I probably still have some growing up to do when it comes to all of this, but in the meantime I’m going to continue wallowing in my trough of beloved smut.
- R
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In response to Open Door Policy 29:
Hmmmmmm. This was the social tone I worried about before. Sex as nasty and vengeful.
I love the joy you write into your stories. I don’t like the coercion.
Also, Chris was justifiably angry. The degrading characterization of his mother you needlessly wrote into Joanne’s mouth was not sexy; it was demeaning.
The part you then added with Chris using sex as a weapon of revenge was disheartening. Apparently that did not bother other fans of yours. That type of sexual violence seems to arouse some people.
You are one of the best writers. Can you build a line of stories that celebrate sexual living, rather than couch sex in terms of shame?
- L
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It was interesting timing that your first comments came just as I was in the process of writing chapter 29, which included that very aggressive scene between Joanne and Cris. Let me again say that I appreciate your feedback and welcome your point of view on what an erotic story can and should (or should not) be.
I want to start by focusing on your use of the word “needlessly.” When you get right down to it, every element of every story ever written is effectually needless. I didn’t need to have Joanne say those things; Romeo didn’t need to drink the poison; I didn’t need to include Cris as a character; Huckleberry didn’t need to go down the river in a raft; I didn’t need to have the Ramos family move in; Han Solo didn’t need to shoot first; and I didn’t need to have Joanne become sexually involved with her son. These were all choices made to define a specific character or serve a particular story. While I didn’t need to make any of the choices I did, they are all the choices I wanted to make.
I chose to have Joanne say the demeaning things she did because she understands that Cris is very devoted to his mother (as, a reader pointed out to me, men of that culture tend to be). She also has a strong suspicion that he has sexual fantasies about his mother (his attraction to his friend’s mom is her first clue, combined with Vera being a voluptuously sensual woman). Her goal is to push him over the line and into a place where he can move past his guilt and shame about the lust he feels for his mother and take the unthinkable actions she wants him to take. To do this, she decides that she must provoke him in the way that she does. Naturally, Cris reacts with anger and violence, which is a physical manifestation of his inner conflict. Yes, Joanne is being manipulative and coercive, but I find this to be a more interesting course for the narrative of the story and part of the continuing evolution (or, more accurately, devolution) of Joanne’s character. If, instead, I chose to have Joanne cuddle up with Cris and lovingly present the case for him seducing his mother, I believe it would have been less interesting for me and for readers.
(Oh, and by the way, Joanne LOVED the vengeful sex Cris subjected her to. Sometimes we ladies just want to be owned by a man who can give it to us hard and rough.)
It would be a struggle for me to write a story as you suggest. Even if I could force myself to try, I’m afraid I would end up a bit too syrupy, which probably wouldn’t satisfy me or anyone else. I have to write what’s true to my current sensibilities (which, as I mentioned, are filthy, nasty, and perverted). I’m sure there are plenty of people who agree with you and align with your preferences, but down here in the incest fantasy pits I have the sense that the majority of us are in it for the delightful degradation and dirty dissolution of it all (as long as there’s a “happy ending” for all involved).
- R
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