So yesterday I was bemoaning the fact that I couldn’t write. Nothing was working for me, my brain was fried. That was in the morning. Something happened yesterday afternoon.
Erotica is not my favorite genre. I have read some books that were excellent, well-written, and oh so touching (not that kind of touching, pervs). I never, ever thought I’d attempt to write erotica myself. But there you have it. Yesterday, I began writing an erotica short story (another first). It’s also a historical. Am I trying to do something very different or what?
I can’t say I’m that surprised, really. I am a history buff, so eventually I did want to write historicals, but I just didn’t expect it to turn out to be erotica. By the way, I have nothing against erotica. I think it’s an intriguing genre and I have found myself drawn to some authors. Lorelei James? Yup. Love her books. Jess Michaels? Kate Pearse, Sharon Page, and some others…all great stuff. But me? Writing it? *looks shocked* My mother would kill me! But I’m doing it anyway.
It’s a menage quatre. Will I attempt to get it published? I don’t know. I do know I’ll be writing it under a new pseudonym. Right now, it’s the only story my brain/muse/creative child wants to write. I hope it doesn’t suck that much, lol.
Have you ever found yourself venturing into a new genre without knowing why? What are your views on erotica as a genre?