So I am writing an erotica story right now. It is a process; most of my work hasn't been overtly, or covertly, or gee, even tangentially erotic. Much of that has to do with my own self image, and the need to shut down my own sexuality and eros--not necessarily because of Sin...but because of abuse.
I learned to keep valuable parts of myself away from where my parents could get to them. Unfortunately, now, when I have a bit more safety than before, many of these part are still hidden. At my age, maybe it's time to air this all out--and, writing has always been how I process--so there you go.
It's a little strange that the protagonist here still lives with her parents, but perhaps that's because part of me is still that little girl trapped in a building that feels like it will burn and shake and smother her.
What releases her? Desire. How? Ah! That's the story...
Wish me luck!
