Twenty
years ago last month, I published my first novel.
I’ve
shared the story dozens of times, in my long bio and on various
blogs—how in November 1998 I picked up a Black Lace novel from the
book swap shelf at my Istanbul hotel, was hooked by the intense
emotion and free-wheeling sexual variety I found within, then got the
urge to write something in the same genre. I dashed off three
chapters of Raw Silk and sent them (by postal mail, of course)
to England, pretty much on a lark. I had no expectations. The form
letter I received in response, thanking me for my submission but
warning me that due to the size of the backlog I might not hear
anything for several months, didn’t surprise me in the least.
On
the other hand, when I got email from the Black Lace editor three
days later, offering me a contract, I was stunned. Now I had to
actually write the novel, a minimum of 80,000 words.
The publisher wanted to know when it would be finished. Honestly, I
didn’t have a clue.
In
the two decades that have followed, Raw Silk has seen four
different editions. Meanwhile, I’ve published ten other novels (if
you define a novel as a work of 50K words or more). Not that
impressive a history, I guess, especially compared to many of my
colleagues. Of course, I’ve also produced dozens of shorter works,
ranging from flashers to novellas. In addition, I’ve edited both
multi-author and single-author erotica anthologies.
Although
pretty much all my work falls into the general category of erotic
fiction, I’m otherwise eclectic. I’ve played with a wide range of
genres, including BDSM (my first love), erotic romance, paranormal,
science fiction, suspense, steam punk, historical, gay and lesbian.
My tales range from literary erotica to pure smut, with everything
in-between. For many years I worked mostly with a romance publisher,
and chafed against the constraints of that genre. The rise of
self-publishing has freed me to write whatever inspires me—which
usually means stories that would make some romance readers squirm.
Not
long after the release of Raw Silk, I found the EroticaReaders & Writers Association. I was looking for a way to promote
the book (a very different enterprise in 2000, before the rise of
social media). ERWA wasn’t what I was seeking, but it turned out to
be what I needed. Though I’d been writing for self-expression all
my life, I’d never imagined a career, or even an avocation, as a
published author. I knew next to nothing about either the erotica
genre or the nuts and bolts of the publishing world. The community I
found here, the acceptance, support, knowledge and creativity, have
helped me to develop my skills, to nurture my erotic imagination, and
to market and sell its products.
Many
people have remarked that being an author is a lonely business. I
think that’s even more true if you write a denigrated, socially
sanctioned genre like erotica. ERWA offered a delightful antidote to
that loneliness. Some of the people I care most about in this world
are folks I’ve come to know in the online world of ERWA. A few of
these dear friends I’ve met in meat-space, but I know many of them
only through the warmth of their emails, the generosity of their
critiques and the arousing and challenging fiction they share.
I
was in my forties when I published my first erotica, reliving and
embroidering on the sexual adventures of my twenties. My early tales
were fueled by cherished recollections and personal fantasies. I
penned that first novel in just a few months. Passion poured out of
me, onto the page. I wrote whatever pushed my own buttons, with no
censorship and little focus on craft.
Now
that I’m in my sixties, my motivations have shifted, but not as
much as you might think. I still write to turn myself on. If I’m
not aroused, how can I expect that of my readers? These days, though,
I have a bit more distance from my work. I feel far more in control.
Like a sculptor, I start with the raw material of ideas and mold them
into the shape I envision.
As
I mentioned earlier, the decision to self-publish has given me new
energy and self-confidence. Perhaps as a result, in the past few
years, I’ve found myself conquering what I’d always thought were
intrinsic limitations to my writing skill.
For
instance, I used to complain that I suffered from “narrative
inertia”. What I meant was that once I’d written a story, I found
it very difficult to make significant changes. I felt as though the
story had chosen its own form, had set itself in stone, permitting me
no more than cosmetic modifications. Attempts to alter the structure,
the plot or the ending left me dissatisfied and deeply uncomfortable.
Those
feelings have mostly disappeared. I’ve taken old tales with
ambiguous, even tragic, conclusions, and revised them to end happily.
(The market far prefers happy conclusions.) I’ve taken short
stories and expanded them into novellas. My words and ideas now seem
far more malleable than they did in the past.
Then there's the fact that I always swore I couldn’t write a series. By the time I’d written
“The End” on a novel, I really was done. I had little inclination
to revisit the characters or their worlds. In a couple of cases, I
had thoughts about follow-on books, and deliberately left threads to
be followed, but somehow I couldn’t motivate myself to start on
Book Two.
Then
I wrote a book purely for fun, which turned out to be pretty popular
(Hot Brides in Vegas). Almost as soon as it was published, I
had more outrageous ideas about the characters, so I started a
sequel. The Vegas Babes series is now up to four books, and I just started working on Book Five.
Nobody
is more surprised by this than me.
Twenty
years is a long time—nearly a third of my life on this planet. I’ve
never made much money as an author. Given my other responsibilities,
I’ve never been able to devote the sort of time necessary to
publish regularly. Still, I do congratulate myself on my staying
power. Through the ups and downs, I’ve continued to write and
publish—and continued to participate in the erotica community.
I
sometimes wonder whether I’ll still be here when I am in my
eighties.
Stay
tuned!
1 comment:
Congratulations on twenty years of writing erotic stories and I'm sure you'll be still pounding the keyboard when you'e eighty. It has been interesting and inspirational to know you.
XOXO Love Foxy & Larry
Post a Comment
Let me know your thoughts! (And if you're having trouble commenting, try enabling third-party cookies in your browser...)