Why I Am Cross With Erotica/Sex/Everything

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about all this. About why I’m writing erotica and not something completely different. I’ve refrained from posting this before, as my emotions tend to get in the way sometimes. But I just don’t want to hold this to myself anymore. If I unintentionally offend someone with this, I apologize sincerely.

Ever since I got back from London, I’ve been reconsidering all the things I’m doing with my life. The main gripe that I seem to have, although I don’t know if I want to believe it, is with writing erotica. I know, I shouldn’t complain. After all, the erotica gods seem to have blessed me with three consecutive story acceptances. I know that I can do it and I know that there are people who like reading my stuff.

I’m just so fucking sick of writing it.

I’ve been obsessed with writing the perfect smutty story ever since I started writing more grown-up fiction. I perfected my art for months until I plucked up the courage to send something I’d written. It paid off.

But as I delved into the genre more, studying craft and learning what’s popular in this genre, I began feeling incredibly insecure. There’s so much that I can’t seem to bring myself to write. I tremble at the thought of writing a rape story or something equally taboo. I don’t know if I can bring myself to write May/December romances, or age play. But these are things that are out there on paper (or in an e-book). And I really don’t know that I can write all of that. I don’t see myself as a taboo-breaker.

My second gripe is more with the genre. I had expected that there are far better writers than me. Fuck, I completely respect them and look up to them. Sometimes I even want to emulate them and be them. But more on that later.

What I did not expect (and this was completely wrong on my behalf) is that this genre is so full of festering shite that it makes me want to curl up in a ball and call an adult. That might have been strong wording, but it really does. I check the Amazon charts regularly, and it just hurts.

Seriously, some of these stories seem to have been written by a toddler. In crayon. On a wall.

I know I’m not a perfect writer. I am probably not the savior of erotica as a genre. And the truth is, I don’t even know if I want to write it anymore. It’s just such an emotionally verklempt thing for me to write. Wait, is that the right way to express it?

What I mean is that I struggle to write it. I can do the whole relationship/banter/funny thing. But when it comes to the sex thing, I’m dried out. I have no fucking clue anymore how to write the actual deed. There’s only so many ways you can say something about precum coming out of a cock.

Maybe it is just me being a massive perfectionist. Fuck it, it’s definitely me being a massive perfectionist. But I just know what turns me on and off.

The whole point of this uneven ramble is that I need to take a break from writing erotica. And writing about my sex life. Because the moment that it becomes a drag for you, is the moment you need to momentarily bow out and let other people do their thing. I took a break, but I realize I need another break to recover from my break.

I spent most of yesterday lying on the couch, sleeping. That’s just not good. I need to step back and re-energize before I completely give up on this entire thing. And I really don’t want to give up on writing. I just need to write something else. Read something else. Breathe something else.

All I breathe is sordid sex. And I want to step out of that hot, moist room that is my erotica head space and breathe some new air.

So, don’t expect anything sexual from me in the next few weeks. Because I just can’t do that right now.

Here is a bear.

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  1. Jilly, I think I know exactly how you feel. I’ve felt something similar in the last week or so, and have needed to step back, focus inward, and sleep more. It’s helping.

  2. I have been writing porn for the internet for over ten years. In that time, I find that my ability to keep writing boils down to writing what I care about. It is a huge mental step to write for one’s self but once you do it, you enjoy almost every minute of it.

    if you don’t like writing the sex anymore, then don’t write it. Write the banter. Do entire stories without the nitty gritty. Write what you want to read.

    When I get really burned out, i write something other than a story. Sometimes I do fake entries to travel guides that don’t exist. Sometimes I write commercials for imaginary sex products. I guess what I am saying is feel free to escape the rut you are in and write what tickles your fancy.

  3. As I suggested earlier on Twitter, it’s all normal to want an occasional break from anything in order to prevent burnout. You are entirely entitled to this. Stepping away from something that makes up a large part of your life is important as it will give you perspective. Then, when/if you return, you will do so with a clear head, better able to focus.

  4. Oh do I know this feeling! The best advice I ever got was about refilling the “creative well.” That we can’t keep producing and expending our creative juices without refilling ourselves. I found the book THE ARTIST’S WAY to be super-helpful with this. She suggests making creativity dates for yourself. Go to a museum, grab a camera, sketch, paint, walk in the countryside…anything that will feed your soul the crucial elements that delight it. Good for you to take a break. We all need it.


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