:: oh. you write porn. ::

I don't tell many of my friends I write erotica. Not because I'm embarrassed about it, but all too frequently the response is “Oh. So you're writing porn.”

It's true that written pornography and erotica have a lot in common. In fact, so much so that if you try and get a solid definition of what makes one different from the other you will find as many answers as there are people with opinions.

One thing that everyone seems to agree on is that there is a difference.

Everyone except those aforementioned acquaintances who believe erotica = porn. They are entitled to their opinion and I have no judgment for those who feel that way. I have found, though, that those who lump erotica and porn into one messy (and usually distasteful) package neither read nor enjoy either.

You notice I continue to distinguish the one from the other. Perhaps that's just my conservative upbringing trying to put a respectable slant on something many still consider taboo. But to me there is a difference.

Porn is a wonderful thing. It's raunchy. It's hot. It doesn't bother with story or language or style. It is straightforward and to the point, and that point is sex. Porn reminds me of a guy I knew in college. One night I ran into him at a little restaurant bar turned nighttime dance club. He approached me on the miniscule dance floor and opened the conversation with “My girlfriend and I broke up last week and I'm really lonely.”

Erotica, on the other hand, is more like a secret crush. The one that catches your attention with a laugh; the one you tell your friends is totally “not your type” but makes you wobbly around the knees when you bump into him on the street. Erotica is the guy you don't even realize you're falling in love with until one day you head home after getting a cup of coffee together and inside you feel like you've lost something by leaving him behind. Erotica is the heartache of a fight that turns bitter and cruel, the drama of the unexpected and the vulnerability of loving someone because of their faults and not in spite of them.

In short, porn is a one night stand; quick, hot and fun while it lasts, but by morning the thrill is gone.

Erotica is life. With more sex.

:: teaser tuesday - Miller ::

Vivienne wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Her lips were full and warm and her tongue, slipping ever so coyly into his mouth, tasted of wine and the golden smell of late summer wheat. Without thinking about it, he put his hands on her bottom, shivering a little as he cupped the smooth curve of it. Through his shirt he could feel the hard pressure of her nipples, the softer weight of her breasts and it left him gasping for breath.

- The Weird Ones

:: the long wait ::

I struggle with the submission game. You're probably familiar with it, too.

You work on something for a few weeks or months or (maybe even) years; you research publishers and what they say they want and who's paying the best money; you polish and tweak and tear hair out trying to make your story the best it can be and, finally, you send it off.

Then you wait. That's the part everyone hates. We hate it more than editing. More than "condomizing" a story that was just fine without but isn't considered PC or socially responsible without those little latex sleeves crammed into the middle of the story. More than trying to meet a deadline that snuck up on us. We hate the waiting.

The nervous game of "Will they like it?" and "If they don't will they even bother to tell me why?" that distracts us from the work at hand which should be writing. Instead we waste time worrying because it's been three months already and not one peep.

We know that editors and agents are busy people. The stack of slush on their desks is enormous. We know that they will get back to us as soon as they have a chance.

But the waiting still sucks.