Another Silly Love Story

I write erotica. I apologize if this has been stated before in an earlier post. I tend to write these entries while at work, and the internet signal is abysmal. So, if I repeat myself, it is just my older age settling in. It happens.

I have written erotica since around 1998. I wrote for a very specific fetish at that time. I wrote in that fetish till around 2010. Around that time, it started feeling wrong. Not because it was sexual, but because the views regaring women, sexuality, consent, and what constitutes as victimization because relevant, pertienent, and a very hot topic. The majority of the stories I wrote fell into those negative aspects. Any love stories where consent was freely and happily given were rarely read, and if they were, it was seen as just “meh” in the fetish genre.

I prefer love stories. I prefer romance. I prefer people being happy and fulfilled with each other emotionally, working together to fight the obstacles of the world, or even the self. As I saw this change in views, writing the erotica started feeling icky. I felt like I was contributing to, not just the victimization of women, but making it acceptable to put them in that position in the first place. The power play of the fetish started feeling less “fun” and more “horrific”.

So I stopped writing, trying to find a way to write what I enjoyed without adding into all the negative ideology behind the fetish, but it just wouldn’t work. I could write the hottest, most tantalizing sex scenes, but if there wasn’t victimization, there simply wasn’t interest.

I started writing other things. I started a YA story that eventually, I hope to finish. I tried rewriting an old story I started in my teens, working towards the story I actually wanted rather than the rambling horrible thing I produced. I’m not a deep writer. I don’t pretend that there is any symbology, social commentary, or even anything more than wanting the reader to have a good time. I don’t set up any deep and vast conspiracies to unmasked and brought out into the light. My stories are just simple stories of people, maybe a fantastic adventure, and the end, which will always be good. I dislike unhappy endings. I’m not a sadistic author who puts her characters in horrific and torturous situations. I try to look at their scenarios and figure out what I would do, how I would handle that, and what can be done to further the plot while still keeping true to everyone involved.

I have thought about doing erotic versions of popular fariy tales, even though this has been fairly overdone. I wouldn’t mind taking a stab at it, but having read other people’s versions, I’m not sure I can give a version that would be well accepted or enjoyed. The word “Erotica” seems to be the issue.

What I write, isn’t erotica. It’s romance with a healthy amount of sex. even though it was for a very alternative sexual fetish, it ends up, it is still romance. It doesn’t have the darkness or feeling of “wrongness” for it to be appreciated in erotica circles.

As I think about this, romance is such a huge sea to tread in. I don’t follow a formula like most “romance” books. I don’t have a theme, on average. My female characters can’t be considered “heroines”. They are just…people. Who have experiences. Sometimes of the fantasy.

I started a while back a story of a witch named Lily. The book finds her before she is initiated as an apprentice and follows her through the initiation and finding her way in the new world she has entered. I honestly love this character, this story, and everything it was built on. The idea was to have each chapter or book revolve around a different alternative fetish, but then, it took a life of its own when I made it from a 6 story to a series story. I have a whole world created, plot lines, subplots, story arcs, and even enemies.

I have written a total of 23 episodes, published 11. I keep wanting to get back to writing it, but find it hard to do so. Even though those who have read it say it is a great story and very strong, it has garnered no attention, even with my promoting it.

Writing is meant to be read. It is meant to be enjoyed beyond its creator. When it sits and no one sees it, it becomes hard to write it, even when doing so brings so much joy and delight. And I wonder if it is because I have misclassified it as erotica and not romance, though there is no real romance in this story. It is a story about a meek girl who, through witchcraft, discovers who she is, her purpose, and finds more friends and the kind of family you find over the ones you are born with. Through these discoveries, she becomes stronger and more prolific in her talents. She has no love interest. She has no man, or even woman, who she needs to find her own strength. But it does have a lot of different forms of love present. And, of course, sex. But sex she wants and welcomes. That she determines is what she needs, not other people. She is in control of her life and her body, as it should be.

So maybe I’ll reframe it as a romance and continue working on it. Maybe I’ll continue working on it simply for the fact of my own personal love of the characters and the world. Maybe I’ll just continue writing it because it brings me a type of joy that only writing can give me. I talk often about this story, mostly beacuse I’m disappointed it isn’t as loved by others as it is by me and I wish that I could change that so that this creation can get the fair shake at love I feel it deserves.

We shall see.

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