“Will you still love me tomorrow, when you find out who I am today?”
      So sang the incredibly talented Leah Andreone, and so ask I today as I bring up a … sensitive subject.
      Smutporn.
      Yeah, I’m talking about writing smut today; the reasons why I might, why I might not, the multitude of moral and squicky issues at hand, money, self-respect…
      So, let’s jump right in.
      I’m a writer. Always have been. Always will be. Now, whether I ever manage to bring home the bacon with my writing, that I cannot say. I hope, I strive, I have goals. But regardless of making income with it, I will keep my pen moving for all my days. Ah, poetic!
      Here’s the bottom line. Are you ready?

Sex Sells

      I know, I know. Lowest common denominator, blah blah blah. But when it comes down to it, there is a market for erotic short stories & novellas. They’re much quicker to produce — even quality pieces as I would want to turn out — and thus could be rather immediate income. I have no lack of ideas which could be turned into naughty e-books and if I just dedicated a bit of my sporadic writing time to the pursuit of smut.
      Somehow, I just haven’t quite… managed it.
      Its not exactly because I have moral objections to it. I mean, I wouldn’t write things that are that taboo (or, to my mind, sick and wrong) and frankly, I’d rather prose porn over images or videos (or hookers or promiscuity) just for the whole… no women were subjugated in the making of this erotica thing.
      I am a modern woman with healthy sexual appetite and a willing wedded partner. I’ve never been a fan of pornographic materials myself, but I understand the draw. I know that there is a draw for the human animal and since the dawn of time, people (males especially) have sought material for fantasizing, for masturbation, for sparking the libido before jumping into the ol’ bedroll (hay loft, bed, beach, et cetera). So why not pay my bills with money earned by writing hot love scenes and selling them on the interwebs?
      There’s no good reason.
      Not a single one that I can think of…
      Then again… there is the social stigma associated with purveyors of the smutty arts. Should I publish smutporn, will I bring shame to the house of Childs/Albert? Will my relations scorn me? Shun me? My husband is cool with it, but his family… not really. And my family? …not really. Except my Mom. She’d probably just be proud I was finally making it as a writer. Tee-hee.
      Don’t worry, friends. Its just an idea. It’ll probably never happen.
      And even if it does, I’ll do as my friend’s great aunt did… I’ll secretly cash the checks and never live above my means, writing my steamy trash under a pseudonym. None will know that I spent my prime publishing porny novellas until I’m dead and gone and they read my will.
      True story.
      …now, who can suggest a good nom de plume? I think Busty La Rue is taken, but maybe Chesty McBigguns? Dee-Dee Cupps? Cherry Pittman? Chastity or Virginia or Lacy? Hmm…..

Note: Image “The Room” by trublueboy from SXC.hu.