This
post is not about one night stands. I might explore that topic some
other time: the thrill of the unknown, the intoxication with the
unfamiliar, the tantalizing possibility that a random encounter might
lead to a world-altering epiphany. Today, however, I’m actually
talking about writing.
I
publish both long and short erotica and erotic romance, in ebook and
in print. I have a respectable back list for someone who doesn’t
write full time. However, some of my best work doesn’t show up in
the publishing history on my website, namely, the erotic tales I
write to spec for Custom Erotica Source.
CES
offers an unusual service. For a fee, and in complete privacy, CES
provides a professionally written realization of a customer’s
erotic fantasy scenario. Via an online questionnaire, the customer
supplies all the details: the names, genders, ages, orientations,
appearance and personalities of the characters; their relationships;
the plot; particular erotic stimuli to emphasize; the type of
language desired (from suggestive to filthy); and so on. Then the
author (in this case, yours truly) takes this specification and spins
it into a story from 1500 to 5000 words long (depending on what the
customer orders).
At
this point, some of my author colleagues may be shaking their heads.
How can I prostitute myself in this way? How can I betray my art? Why
would I surrender my creative vision and allow someone else to
dictate the content and style of my work?
Well,
of course the money is nice. But I do it partly because writing
someone else’s erotic dreams is both a fascinating and an
educational experience.
When
I write something in response to a call for submissions, I have a
generic audience in mind. I probably understand the type of tales a
particular editor prefers. I know that Total-E-Bound’s readers are
looking for something different than people who buy books from Cleis,
or Xcite, or Excessica. Furthermore, the anthology theme or the
focus of the CFS provides some guidance as to content and tone.
Within those broad boundaries, though, I’m free to follow my
imagination in any direction it leads. I know I can intrigue and
arouse at least some subset of the community of readers; I really
can't hope for more.
When
I write for CES, on the other hand, I have an audience of one. I know
exactly what turns that audience on – because the customer has
shared his or her secret desires. It’s my job to put flesh on the
bones of the story specification, to make my customer’s lusts
concrete and then satisfy them.
To
succeed in this task, I have to somehow sync my own erotic
imagination with his. I can’t write an arousing story unless I see
the characters and the situation through my customer’s eyes.
Somehow, I have to intuit the customer’s reactions to the stimuli
described in the spec and then coax myself into the same
psychological state.
That’s
where the intimacy arises. I don’t have any direct communication
with the customer (although I am allowed to ask questions, via the
management, if I see issues in the spec). Nevertheless, he (almost
all my assignments have been writing for men) and I are connected, by
his act of sharing his lewd dreams and my willingness to assume them
as my own.
Some
fantasies I’ve received as assignments don’t appeal to me
personally at all. (I’m free to refuse assignments that I might
find repugnant, of course. So far the only ones on which I've passed are a series involving body building. I am just not a gym rat!) Still,
I’ve managed to turn them into tales that pleased my unknown
reader. This requires a kind of suspension of my own sexual identity
in order to connect with his. By the time I’m finished, I’m
usually turned on by the tale, regardless of my initial reaction. If
I’m not, I know I haven’t fulfilled my part of the bargain.
Executing
a CES assignment requires a possibly surprising degree of craft. I
must pace the story in order to include all details from the spec
while still keeping it within the word limit. I have to guard against
adding erotic elements that push my own buttons, but might not have
the same effect on my audience. At the same time, I need to add
sensual details, plausible transitions and especially, emotional
authenticity. That’s my added value, as a professional author. If
just anyone could write a compelling, intense sexual fantasy, I’d
be out of a job.
What
really makes it work for me, though, is getting inside my customer’s
head. Watching one of these stories unfold is a weird feeling, but
exciting, too. It's almost as though someone were whispering naughty
ideas in my ear. I may have never considered these notions before,
but when I wrap my mind around them, I begin to see the appeal.
It
has occurred to me that my submissive tendencies account for some of
my success in writing custom fantasies. My master once called me
“suggestible”, and I suspect that’s an appropriate evaluation
of my personality. The fact that I'm bisexual and exceptionally
broad-minded about sex probably helps, too.
My
one regret about these CES stories is that nobody else will ever read
them. They belong to the customers who paid for them, not to me. I
can't post them on my website. I can't even talk about the specific
fantasy scenarios involved; that would be a breach of
confidentiality. They're eternal secrets, between my customer and me.
The
last assignment I handled, though, involved an outrageous, kinky,
gender-bending scenario that turned me on from the moment I opened
the specification file. My personal sex life became significantly
more interesting while I was working on the tale, because of the
fantasies it inspired. I had no problem identifying with my audience
in this case. And yet writing that story was possibly more difficult
than my previous assignments, because I had to stop my own
imagination from hijacking the customer's vision.
I
view my tales for CES as a sort of writing exercise. They require a
level of control far beyond what's needed for a free form story
written to satisfy a vague theme. I believe that they've helped me
hone my skills as an author of erotica.
The
real payoff, though, is emotional – the heady sense of power that
comes from bringing my customer's dirtiest dreams to life. At the
same time, it's a sort of ecstatic surrender, a willingness to sink
into my customer's desires.
I
will never know who my readers are, and they'll never really know me.
For a short while, though, we're as close as lovers.
