Smut by the Sea: The Hangover

When you head to sunny Scarborough for the weekend, you might expect a little lounging on the beach, maybe a spot of afternoon tea, followed by the odd drink or two. But no, those of us at Smut by the Sea had to work. Work, I tell you! First up was Victoria Blisse's writing workshop, in which she shared out some objects - from buckets and spades to postcards and pebbles - and ordered us to write whatever our chosen thing inspired us to. And then came the sharing. And everyone else had written beautiful, lyrical pieces. And I decided not to share mine, what with the vibrating butt plug in the first sentence. My inspirational object was a bucket and spade. Obviously, I would write about a guy burying his fella in the sand. Obviously. 

Ahem. Next up was KD Grace getting down to the business of writing sex. Our task was to write a sex scene without using any of the body part words. We had ten minutes. I spent the first eight staring at a blank sheet thinking, 'But I like the word cunt.' And two minutes scribbling something that I now can't even read back, my handwriting was so bad. Then there was the ten-minute write. Ten minutes of writing without stopping, regardless of what came out of the end of your pen. Letting ourselves just write. Badly. Mine started with the noise of seagulls and ended up with some deep and meaningful commentary on the human condition. 

I wish I'd gone into Lucy Felthouse's workshop, all about what editors look for, but I'd left it until the last minute to choose the extract I'd be reading out to everyone later, so I hid in a corner going through the printouts of three different stories, eventually settling on a snippet of my Smut by the Sea Volume 3 story, A Hint of Piracy. The book will be out very soon and I'll share the extract I read for Wednesday's Dungeon Crawl. But after going over it, I decided I wanted some props of my own and raced off to the Prom to buy a pirate flag and a set of plastic handcuffs. As you do. 

The afternoon was all about the reading slam, with Kay Jaybee wielding the paddle if anyone dared go over their time. One thing that struck me was how much humour there can be in erotica, without it detracting from the heat levels. Slave Nano read from his paper, 'A study of the marine life of the inter-tidal rock pools on the coastal margins of the Flamborough Headland Special Area of Conservation', while CJ Forrest started flinging off his clothes and I did wonder at what point he was going to stop.

The Smut by the Sea Swim Team ended up consisting of Nano and myself, everyone else failing to appreciate the invigorating qualities of immersion in the North Sea. Their loss, I say. It was extremely pleasant bobbing about in the swell, gazing down the coastline and, er, trying to wrestle my clothes back on at the edge of the beach without getting arrested. 

From there, things become a little hazy. I may have had one pint too many at the after-party. I probably said things I'd be embarrassed about, if only I could remember what they were. I have messages on my phone from Jacqui Brocker and Anna Sky's other half, but I'm not sure what it was we were planning. Oh well, these things have to be done occasionally. 

A massive thank you to Victoria and Kev Blisse, and Victoria's sis, for all their hard work in organising the event and making it run so smoothly on the day. If you couldn't make it, there's always Smut in the City to consider, coming up in Manchester on November 15. Just don't expect me to swim in the Ship Canal.