Writing Sex

Kirsty:

I am a writer, and I write about things that interest me. I write about conspiracy theories and libraries and the Arctic. I write about getting drunk and being queer and travelling to Berlin. I write about The X-Files and riot grrrls. I also write about cybersex and orgasms and nipple-sucking and blowjobs and strip-shows and strap-ons and fucking strangers behind all-night garages.

I do not think that any item on these lists is any more worthy than any other item. Whatever I’m writing about, I still want to be identified as the person who wrote it. I am proud of my work, and I do not think that a story about sex has to be less literary than a story about sadness. Fiction does not have to consider wars and death to be worth writing or reading.

I try to tell a good story in an unusual way. To me, that’s what writing is all about. Whether I’m writing about sex or mourning or birth, it’s all just writing.

When I first wrote about sex, I didn’t use a pseudonym because it just didn’t occur to me. I wrote this story, just like I wrote dozens of other stories; why would I use a fake name for this and none of the others? Had I put more thought into it the first time round, perhaps I would have used a pseudonym. I could have kept my erotica separate from my ‘mainstream’ writing, and avoided any potential embarrassment or confusion later on. But then, I’m not JK Rowling. I’m not writing picture books and I’ll probably never be asked to do a school visit. I would expect that anyone who likes a story I’ve written would like the erotica I’ve written too: it’s essentially the same, but with more breasts.

A few times, I have had to request that my mother not attend a reading because I don’t want her to hear me saying C-words. But then, she’s a grown woman and she knows that I am a grown woman too. I doubt she would have a heart attack if she knew I had written a story about healthy, happy adults getting down.

Some people probably think that erotica is less literary or valid than more ‘serious’ subjects, but I know that's not the case. Sure, there are plenty of badly-written ‘cock and cunt’ stories, but there are plenty of badly-written war poems too. Good writing is good writing, whatever the subject. I don’t believe in self-censorship, and I’m not ashamed of anything I write. Well, there was that love poem about my biology teacher when I was 16. But let’s not talk about that.

Phoebe:

Writing about sex is fun, or at least it should be. It’s a bit like the act itself: take either too seriously and you’ll find yourself sounding like a phoney, shouting “fuck” a lot and wishing you’d just relaxed a bit more.

I didn’t have to think for too long, before I started my recent column, about whether to use my own name or not. Regardless of how enlightened or liberated some people are when it comes to sex, some people are clearly not, and as I’ve come to find out, some get downright weird about the whole thing. Despite the fact that I have no problem with the subject matter, it would be churlish of me to assume that it may not impact on those close to me one day. However, only being marginally successful means that I’ll probably never have to deal with that particular problem.

I’ve used pseudonyms before and it works for me. It’s more freeing than using my own name all the time, and if I’m honest, as long as the article/story is well received, I couldn’t care less which one of my pseudonyms gets the recognition. 

I think it’s useful to a reader also. Imagination plays a vital role when it comes to anything remotely erotic, and I’m quite convinced that having my name and mug shot anywhere near my work would only raise questions as to how I managed to ever get laid in the first place.

Of course, plenty of people know who I am and they couldn’t care less whether I write about sex or socks. The support I’ve had has allowed me to be slightly less paranoid; however, I have received emails from people who equate writing about sex to working in the sex industry, and the inevitable small-minded insults follow quickly.

So perhaps I’m not as brave as those who choose to write about sex and use their own name, but I’m fine with that. I’d rather sit quietly and let Phoebe get on with it.