I was having what I believed to be a random and normal conversation wih my favorite reader the other day when suddenly she drifted off into a rather explicit tidbit of her personal life. Now, I should mention that outside of our writer/reader relationship, we are really good friends and I know her to have a “say anything” type demeanor.
Personally, erotic writer self aside, I only talk bedroom business to a certain extent, and normally lightheartedly. I’m not a prude or against it by any means, but when conversations steer that way, I just don’t put my two cents (or pumps 😉 ) in.
However, I’m a good listener. It’s one of the main things I believe helps me with my writing, listening to real dialogue and exchange. I don’t judge and I’m not easily offended and people say (at least to me) the damnedest things.
For instance, one of her questions was: “Who fucks for hours?”
And: “I looked at his dick and thought, ‘What am I supposed to do with that?'”
I, of course, didn’t have an answer for her, but I engaged her as much as I could while smiling and silently singing “la, la, la can’t hear you” to myself. But she went on to describe positions, noises and nicknames (one which I thought was particularly interesting).
It made me wonder, though, if by doing what I do, writing what I write, I invite this type of offbeat, illicit type of conversation. Does writing erotica translate into being a sex therapist or love doctor?
Don’t get me wrong. It’s always good for a story, and with her, a gut wrenching laugh, but had she never known the erotic author side of me, would she feel as comfortable being so free with her words? Do other erotic authors get that, too?
It’s not that she’s the only one, though. I’ve had to plug my ears during many a conversation with my own mother, and that could be part she knows I write smut, and she knows I’m a big girl now, a big girl with pen and notebook in tow, at all times.