There’s a little truth in every bit of fiction. When we authors share our stories, we’re sharing a little bit of ourselves. Lucy V. Morgan, whose novella Beautiful Mess is now available [Kindle link, more at the bottom], volunteers a little more in this guest post. Her insight into the craft of romance and erotica is tough, honest, sometimes hard to swallow, but always invaluable. If you enjoy this glimpse, pick up Beautiful Mess–her funny, sexy, honest tone is infused throughout the prose, and you won’t be disappointed. [Also, that’s my cover design! /cheer]
I’ve always felt there was a strong link between sex and honesty. Not the performative aspects–the moves you choose, the partners you choose–but just the very act itself. Being seen naked, submitting (or dominating); being watched for any hint of arousal or desire. I like being honest. When you’re naked, you know where you stand.
Writing is a little bit like that. In order to write something compelling, something that resonates–even in a lighthearted way–you have to find a new method of expressing a truth. You have to acknowledge the secret little things people hide within themselves and say, I know of this. I’ve felt this too. That’s the point of connection, right there.
In both reading and sex, there’s a moment where you give in, get lost, forget yourself. It might be for just a few precious minutes, or an hour. Then there are the moments of painful, aching lucidity where you realise something about yourself, or those around you. You recognise them in well-written characters, or in your partner’s warped voice, or in the mirror. Sex and literature speak to the bits of us we’re never quite sure what to do with, but ah…don’t we want to be told?
When I started to write Beautiful Mess–which is released today–I wanted to explore fantasy, of course. That’s half of good erotica down right away. I gave my heroine three very hot male friends who are loyal and amusing and wonderful to have around. Show me a girl who doesn’t want that kind of company?
But I wanted some realism, too…I wanted to touch on things people might not admit to. For Bailey, this is multi-faceted: she’s desperately upset at being dumped, and so embarrassed about it all. Her grief is something a lot of people experience. Then there’s the erotic aspect, this idea that she’s never had an orgasm with a partner and she’s mortified by that, too. I think a lot more women than might admit it are in the same position. In much of erotica, the heroines orgasm so easily–it’s kind of a let-down. In Beautiful Mess–which is as much about Bailey’s orgasm predicament as it is about her relationship status–you are invited to join Bailey through every peak and trough, until she gets to that place she was afraid of. The place she’s never been before. It’s brutal and glorious and very, very intimate. It’s her unspoken truth.
These truths are why I write erotica. I’m a bit of an amateur anthropologist, and I love to know the secret things that make people tick. Especially the very secret ones, the ones people keep for the dark. When you learn to draw them out, pick them apart, sew them back together; you’ll touch someone.
And in the case of erotica…they might just touch themselves, too. Ahem.
If you want to read it on your Kindle, it’s only .99. If you’re more tech savvy, grab it for free at Smashwords or All Romance and load it onto your favorite e-reader:
Lucy will be publishing a full-length novel, Chairman of the Whored, early next year, but if you just can’t wait, she’s published some deleted scenes from Beautiful Mess on her blog.