I’ve recently discovered how much I enjoy writing erotica. I knew I liked it, but it become apparent to me how much I really enjoyed it when I needed to escape internally just a smidgen in July and August. I wrote a vampire/witch/shapeshifter mmf menage escapist fantasy and what I’ve been affectionately calling Whores in Space.
I loved writing both of these simply because I wrote them for the joy of writing. Something I loose sight of when I start thinking about things like publishers and agents and royalties and advances. I started writing back in the dark ages because I was drawn to it. Not because I wanted to broker the best deal for myself and see how much networking I could accomplish at a conference. When I was eight years old and wrote my first story about a Canadian that moved to the states (I thought Canada was wildly exotic back then)
I had no idea that the world of publishing existed. I wrote it because I wanted to put the words on paper. Very much the same reason I wrote the two novellas I recently completed. I did it because I wanted to without much thought to the commercial implications. Now, because it is in my nature to want people to read what I’ve written, I’ve started trolling around the biggies. Not biggies like Doubleday or Harlequin, but biggies like Samhain and Ellora’s Cave. There is something deeply appealing to me about finding a publisher that would give me an audience that’s interested in reading my 40k word bits of escapism.
The manuscript I just finished is pure hen-lit and very commercial. I enjoyed writing it and I’m enjoying working on the sequel, but it’s not the same pure escapism I get from writing erotica. On one publishers web-site they make it perfectly clear that a writer will never get rich selling erotica. But what they fail to mention is that a writer will find an infinite amount of satisfaction from just letting go and allowing the words to flow.