Lots to write about today, my beauties, so let’s get started!
First, I’ll address my main topic: reactions from real-life people when they find out what I write. Okay, I’ll agree that to the average person, finding out someone you know writes erotica could be a little startling. To me it’s normal. I’m surrounded all day, albeit online, by people who write the same thing. It’s our “thing”, what we do, and no one online questions it or bats an eyelid. Real-life people are entirely different animals.
When I used to write solely horror, people recoiled in shock that me, this “normal” woman who jokes about and acts the fool, writes, and ENJOYS writing, about severing people’s heads off, among other ghastly things. I got weird looks, people stepping back and suddenly finding they had someplace else to go, and avoiding me thereafter. Erotica is no different, except the reactions are a little more…horrified.
I can tell by their expressions—and they literally play out on their faces by differing degrees—that they suspect I am:
1, a sex-craving beast
2, that I type one handed, if you catch my drift
3, that I’ll possibly try and steal their husband—after all, if I write sex, I must be gagging for it, and my husband couldn’t possibly keep up with my demands
4, I’m a weirdo
Now, I get where they’re coming from. Most people don’t understand the world of writing and that just because you write something, it doesn’t necessarily mean it is a reflection of you as a person or who you ARE. I’m not a sex-craving beast, my poor husband will attest to that. I don’t type one-handed or get turned on in any way while writing sex scenes—I’m too interested in making sure their body parts are in the correct places, that I’m not repeating the usual words that crop up for me in sex scenes (pushed, pulled, up and down, against) and generally making sure, when writing m/m, that my pronouns are clear. I do not wish to steal anyone’s husband. I have a perfectly adorable one of my own, thank you, and I love him with every single bit of me. And, okay, I’ll give you this one, I’m a weirdo at times, but not in the manner where they undoubtedly think I’m a sexual deviant.
Thankfully, there are others who are intrigued, and my neighbours, friends, and family, the ones who know anyway hahaha, think nothing of it except it just being what I do. I’m me, to them. The same as I’ve always been.
So, that’s the real-life female reaction for you as I have experienced it. The male…haven’t really encountered any reactions there other than from family members. Dad shrugged it off as “just something I write”, and if it makes me happy, then it’s worth doing. My brother cracked the hell up when I told him but like Dad has the “shrug” attitude of “So what?” My sons think nothing of it. With regards to manlove, they know my stance anyway. Love is love, whoever is doing the loving. Mum writes books about men in love, men and women in love, and also books about stabbing the life out of someone. No biggie. They could have turned out demented, actually, now that I think about the stabbing bit, but they know it’s fiction, for God’s sake.
The online reaction from a couple of men has been…different. Now, for those who know me, I do NOT do perverts. I don’t tolerate any crude remarks in emails, no on-the-sly flirting, and I most certainly do NOT appreciate the men who treated me differently once they found out I write erotica. I met these men when I was an editor—still am an editor at heart but only for friends now—and when I “just” wrote horror, everything went along swimmingly (there’s a good old Brit bit of language for you). But upon finding out what else I wrote… Well, let’s just say, even though the comments were harmless, I felt sick, violated, and got the damn creeps.
Just because I write about it, it doesn’t mean it’s going to seep into emails, thankyouverymuch. I’m not going to talk dirty to anyone unless it’s in my damn books. Jesus, I don’t even talk dirty to my husband, ffs! It doesn’t mean I’ve done all the things my heroine did in the book. Doesn’t mean I feel the same as her. She’s HER, I’m just the bloody author, know what I mean?
On another note, there are men who are sensible. They understand the deal and have never treated me differently.
Again, as with my other two posts here this week, unanimous ARGH, my loves? A really loud one? With fists bunched, and maybe a good old headbutt to the desk? Yes, it feels mighty grand to nut the desk, doesn’t it?
So, for the first part of my post, tell me all about your experiences with reactions. Let it allll out, then breeeeeeeeeeeathe a sigh of relief that you’ve released the tension you’ve been so longing to expel.
Experiment based on yesterday’s snobbery post
This morning I had the rather crafty idea of testing the public on me wearing something entirely different to my usual clothing, which is jeans or jogging bottoms—and, according to the snobby buggers, the jogging bottoms are “exercise attire” and I have had one woman mention that I must enjoy the gym three times per week because that’s how often I wear my exercise attire.
Uh, yeah. Whatever you think, love.
Anyway, today I donned a skirt, knee-high boots, a black fitted sweater, a dark denim jacket, and a black chiffon scarf. I also put make-up on, and just for the record, my clothes were all cheap. First comment occurred before I’d even left the house. My smallest: Oh, you’re wearing a skirt for once. Second comment as I stepped out of the house. Neighbour: Oooh, you’ve got a skirt on. To which I replied: Stop it! This is why I don’t wear them because people comment!
I’ve had this conversation with my neighbour, Kirsty, before. We tend to wear “safe” clothing, where we blend into the crowd, because when we do wear something different, people tend to comment as though it can’t be possible that we even OWN a bloody skirt. And worse, we’ve both had this said to us: Oh, going somewhere nice today then?
Like we need a damn occasion to “dress up”? GRR.
The idea of this experiment was to see if the snobs viewed me differently, but there was one twist, and I’ll reveal that in a bit. I’m warped sometimes, so I found the twist hilarious, but that’s just me. So, here are the results. I got an up-and-down look from a man. Totally unappreciated, dude. You gave me the creeps and made me ask myself whether I had “I love perverts!” written on my forehead. A few eyes-wide looks from women. Thanks, loves. Learn to hide your reactions better next time. And, get this, even an eyes-wide, jerk-his-head-back look from a little boy! Evidently, he’s so used to seeing me in my exercise attire, that seeing me in a skirt shit the life out of him.
But the last woman, who literally lifted her nose in the air and studied me from half-closed eyes—what the eff was THAT all about, eh?—gave me the urge to laugh in her face once she’d looked, decided I’d “pass” as someone she could smile at, which she did, because I thought: I wonder if you’d be so quick to smile knowing that beneath my boots I’m wearing a pair of my husband’s old “exercise attire” socks, complete with hole in the toe, said hole strangling said toe, and toe currently chafing painfully against the inside of my boot?
So, clothing DOES make people see you differently, and, quite honestly, that sucks hairy dog’s balls.
Totally random subject
Also, and I have no clue whether anyone would give a shit about this, I have a groovy tip to share. Lately, I don’t think my washing machine has been fully draining out the water on the last spin, because a rather distasteful smell has emanated from the drum if I’ve gone a day without doing laundry. Yes, that does happen on occasion, and I curse myself for it because with 6 people living here the washing mounts up PDQ.
Those who know about my tips in the online AWH magazine I used to do will know my utter adoration of the fabulous substance that is bicarbonate of soda. It’s excellent for adding to water for a number of cleaning issues, smells in particular. So today I decided to run a rinse cycle through my empty machine using this gorgeous powdery substance, and viola! That nasty smell has gone.
So there you have it. I stand firm in my belief that if you have a smell you can’t get rid of, wash it with bicarb in hot water. Sadly, this doesn’t work for bodily gas.
Have a fantastic day, folks!