FIFTY SHADES OF DISMAY
I’m trying to write porn. It’s not going very well. My goal was to write some erotica and make millions of dollars but all I’ve scribbled so far is Fifty Shades of Dismay.
A girl I know writes erotica in her novels and said she gets quite turned on as she types. In stark contrast my writing makes me feel newly pregnant (you know, a little bit nauseous.) Rather than being an aphrodisiac my writing is more of a chastity belt.
I think there are several problems with my sexual literary tome; my characters, my plots … and the fact that I’m a prude. The prude bit is not my fault, it’s definitely my mum’s. She’s the one who taught me about ‘Willy’s and What Nots’ using a frozen pink doughnut and a zucchini wrapped in a clingwrap condom secured with a bulldog clip.
However it’s my fault that I’ve subsequently parlayed my learned prudishness into my writing. Unfortunately not because the style is reminiscent of a ‘librarian ready to rip her dark rimmed bi-focals from her otherwise hidden seductive eyes’, but more because of my complete inability to talk or write about sex with any frankness, openness or words currently used in the English vernacular.
To this day I can’t even say the ‘p’ word ( penis) or the ‘v’ word (vagina). And I can’t imagine ever, ever using terms like ‘throbbing member’ or ‘pendulous breasts’ or describing any level of arousal in a ‘pp’ (private part).
The other problem is that I actually don’t find erotic sexual clichés arousing. Some women don’t. Rather than being turned on by the thought of being hurled about like we’re auditioning as gymnasts for Cirque Du Soleil, we want complete silence and no distractions whatsoever (so that we can concentrate on sucking our stomachs in while willing our bosoms to rise and be pert.)
I know I may be out of the loop (I’m possibly at the age where the greatest advantage of sex is that it allows me to check the ceiling for cobwebs). But apparently there’s an epidemic of people tying each other up and saying ‘Do it to me big boy’ and I just don’t understand this.
I mean surely it’s exciting the first time you hang from the chandelier wearing nothing but a moose head, but the second time isn’t it all a bit hum drum (unless the chandelier falls)?
|Page 1 of 2||next >>|