This guide, edited by Shoshanna Evers, should be a must-read for anyone in the early stages of
becoming an erotica writer. It combines a wealth of useful, practical information
with some thought-provoking debates on the nature and appeal of erotica. I didn’t
always agree with the authors but I did welcome the range of points of view.
One of those debates is the distinction between porn,
erotica and romance. One chapter, Writing the Fine Line Between Erotica and
Porn by Kate Douglas explicitly attempts to differentiate with a view to
avoiding being labelled as porn. Personally, I’m not so precious about what
people call my work as long as they enjoy it. But I can see Douglas’ point in
that porn may have no real story behind it. In her piece, she explains how
motivation, strong characterisation and plot are what make the difference. And that’s
good advice for any kind of writing, whatever you want it to be called.
On the other hand, running throughout the book is another
debate about the place of plot in erotica. Controversially, Cara McKenna
writes: ‘When I write erotica, I don’t saddle myself with the burden of plot.’ In
her view, this avoids making the sex scenes seem like they’ve been ‘crow-barred
in’. And sure, you don’t want your characters suddenly dropping everything
because you’ve gone 500 words without them getting down and dirty. But other
authors bring different perspectives and flesh out what plot means in erotica. Christine
d’Abo writes about how sex, although a necessary component, is not the heart of
what’s happening and must be a means for the characters to develop. Isabo Kelly
writes: ‘They want story with their sex’ and explains how the sex must mean something
to the plot. Delphine Dryden, writing about BDSM erotica, advises to ‘think of
yourself as writing a story first,’ while Cari Quinn says you are ‘telling a
story through sex’.
Douglas’ debate about whether or not we’ve crossed the line
into porn feeds into another debate over crossing our own personal lines as
writers. Several of the authors mention the need to avoid self-censorship, not
worrying about what people will think of you for what you have written. Quinn
tells us ‘Don’t be afraid to go there,’
don’t hold back on an idea because our inner critic is telling us it might be too
much. And as McKenna puts it, it’s that ‘edge’, the nudge into feelings of
emotional discomfort or shame for our characters that can make a story sparkle.
It’s when your brain says one thing but your body’s not listening.
That inner censor is a real demon, telling you that if you
write about BDSM everyone will assume you have a fully equipped dungeon in your
cellar. But as Giselle Renarde recalls the words of Selena Kitt: ‘You don’t have to be
a murderer to write a murder mystery’. McKenna adds her voice to this side of
the debate, assuring you not to worry about readers thinking everything you
create is autobiographical. But you do have to do your homework and in the days
of the internet you can engage with people who do know and find out an awful lot without leaving home. Christina d’Abo writes about how you can
produce m/m romance if you’re not gay, and indeed not actually a man at all,
giving a useful tour of the biology and logistics of gay sex and a warning to
avoid the stereotypes of drag queens and fashion designers. Dryden’s advice on
writing BDSM is similar; you may not have to practise it, but you don’t want to
make it obvious you don’t by getting it wrong.
As well as d’Abo’s guide to gay sex, there are other
practical tips and glossaries from Renarde on the nature and psychology of
fetish and Dryden on the terms used in BDSM. Jean Johnson goes over the
physiology of arousal and the difference between the genders, with an anatomy
lesson of the all-important naughty bits. Editor Shoshanna Evers gets down to
basics with a survey of the publishing industry and how to make a professional
approach.
But what about the writing itself? Tips please... Well,
Charlotte Stein talks commas, sentence length and repetition, showing how a little
finesse with these can help your reader get under a character’s skin. She also
explores the issue of deep point of view, the emotions and inner dialogue that
bring an erotic encounter alive. I swear that woman could write about grass
growing and she’d have readers dashing off to the loos for a quickie. But I
guess to watch grass growing, you’d have to be lying in it. Up close. Maybe the
dew is dampening your skin... but I digress. When it comes to erotic content,
Quinn reminds us of the value of talking dirty, how realistic dialogue can
bring out the emotion. Desiree Holt goes over ways to use all five senses, while McKenna
suggests cutting through the dullness of perfection in our characters and their
sexual encounters and into the ‘ugly’.
With Evers’ advice on reviewing and the importance of
avoiding pissing people off in mind, I’ll
keep my criticisms short and sweet. My main gripe with the book was how the
self-promotion sometimes leaked out of the ‘about the author’ section into the
main pieces, including sometimes overly long extracts from their own work. I
also thought it would have been nice to hear from some male writers.
In the course of research, and I won't be revealing which call this is for, I've been viewing pictures of fit, muscular guys running, crawling, swinging and floundering through fields of mud, pools of ice, walls of flame and dangly bits of electrified wire. It's a hard life being a writer, I tell you. The pictures are from Tough Mudder, obstacle courses designed by British Special Forces for the kind of people who've got bored of Ironman triathlons.
They hand out beer instead of water at the end, which is an extremely tenuous link to the next topic of research, sourdough bread. It's all about men who can bake. All that kneading must lead to strong hands and well-honed forearms. And those big ovens make it oh-so-hot.
