Update! I've created a blog for this and a facebook page so you can keep up with the antics of Josie and her cat as they (try to) write an erotic novel! You can get them sent to you by email if you go to the blog. I'm posting every other day until they are done. So come and join me and remember- if you haven't laughed today, at least you haven't wet your pants.
Well it's true to say that I'm feeling very cross that I haven't written a really steamy novel. I could pay the electricity bill AND the plumber if I had lucked in like E L James. It seems EVERYONE is reading it in hardback, on Kindle and iPad. A colleague's teenage daughter and friend were even booted out of The Warehouse for chortling and squealing over page 100. It's in the window of Whitcoulls as their premier display and last night as I drove home from a Storylines meeting I saw a bright red neon winking at me from the Old Hutt Road declaring 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. 'Funny place to put a bookstore' I thought, but as I drove past realised it was a paint shop cashing in on the fame. Who would have thought that a bit of fan fiction turned dirty could sweep the world in such a way?
A couple of years ago I started writing something like one and got quite some way with it. It was to be my 'next big thing.' But it's fair to say that my characters came (if you'll pardon the pun) to the point of having a physical encounter of the most intimate kind. And that is where my writing stopped. The problem with writing nitty gritty dirt stuff is that you need to write from some sort of experience. This leaves you as a past voyeur or active participant. I mean if you'd never felt shuddery sensations or seen whopping members then you probably weren't there. Mind you, has anyone who has ever written about them, ever met an actual vampire?
My problem is that I have never actually been a nun so the fear that any writing in the sweaty zone might be interpreted as 'That was the time when...' from my own life, leaves me feeling uneasy. I'd hate litigation for tales of tiny appendages, unsatisfactory oral sex and downright awful kissing from a past life. Equally any tales of magnificence would only leave my husband either outrageously proud or very suspicious. And then there is the dichotomy of my career as a children's book writer and illustrator and pursuing a career in porn (sorry, erotic literature).
My other great regret (other than not making an ungodly amount of money from a dirty book) is that I haven't hooked into the graphic novel market. I wouldn't perhaps be read by quite so many flushed women, but I'd certainly get lots of Creative New Zealand Funding...
As the lift doors opened, Fifi smoothed her paint ridden palms down the side seams of her paint spattered art shirt and took a deep breath, beating back the niggle of doubt which had invaded her rebellious confidence during the trip downtown. She had come this far, she couldn't back out now. She stepped out of the lift and padded out into the stark luxury of the marble foyer. She felt so out of place here in the business sector of Lambton Quay. Her pounding heart beat an unsteady rhythm as she contemplated her options. It was no use. The only way she would get funding for this project was to front up to the man himself, Jake Montana. Fifi only hoped he wouldn't look down on her ink stained hands and make an unfair assessment of her ability, because underneath it all, Fifi knew she had a special gift...one that a man like Jake needed. She shut her eyes and prayed to be given the opportunity to reveal it to him.
Clunk! The lift doors shut behind her, there was no escaping now. Fifi swallowed, which wasn't usual but given the circumstances she would consider anything. She pulled herself together and stood up straight; she reached a full five feet and that was without impending osteoporosis.
'May I help you?' said a deep rumbling voice behind her. She turned, startled and found herself looking into deep blue eyes the colour of Tasman Bay.
'Yes,' she said thrusting her small chin forward, 'I'm here to convince you to give me a quick response grant.'
Jake laughed loudly...
|Bodice Ripper- Wearable Art Entry 2003|