Author's Note: The Internal Thoughts series will focus on what it means to be a writer and what I think about when I’m not writing smut. This is a real-life self-reflection piece designed to explore what I’m going through internally and how my interactions with the world are changing going forward. If you came for the erotica, please consider my extensive catalogue instead. If you’re interested in a glimpse inside the crazy thing that is my mind, please proceed.
Consider this. You are a woman living in a fairly large city. You go to work, you come home, you spend some time with your family, and you continue every day as every other has. On the outside, you are a normal person, going about your day like any other of the millions of people just like you. However, you are also an introvert, so spending lots of time with others is difficult. You get overwhelmed easily, and you need some space from people and activities, so you spend most of your time at home in your safe space if you have the option. Because of this and because of other factors that have shaped who you are as a person, you don’t have many people you call friends. Most people you know are mere acquaintances, except for a few who are any more than that.
Let’s add to the mix that roughly two and a half years ago, the world was plunged into a catastrophe, and not only are we not back to where we were before, but life as a whole isn’t improving as the days move forward. I’ll delve more into this, but for now, let’s leave it there.
There has to be something to do. Something to take your mind off the overwhelming depression and anxiety that you feel just existing in what’s happening right now. You decide to take one of your passions, something you’ve always loved but never found the right outlet for, and you decide to do something with it.
So, you become a writer.
You’ve always been a writer, but now, you decide to take a leap and publish something. It’s terrifying, starting this journey. You don’t know if anything will ever come of it. You’re worried you aren’t good enough, or that no one will ever read what you’ve poured your heart into. At the end of the day, you don’t worry about that too much because you finally did something. You’ve put something you love, something you’re passionate about to use, and even though you are scared to death for people to absorb this part of you, you desperately also want them to love it.
The catch?
Your chosen genre is taboo. People don’t want to admit that they consume this material, even though millions of people around the world do. Because of this, it actually makes it easier to slide ‘anonymously’ into the community. Let’s face it, that’s part of the reason you chose it in the first place. Everyone uses a pen name, and your favorite erotica author could be anyone. Literally anyone. But like everyone else, you keep that part of you a secret. Very few people, if any, in the world know who you really are. You can be this ‘other’ person, and live out this ‘other’ life, and you get to do something you’ve always wanted to do. You’ve found an outlet for your passion, and even if it doesn’t amount to much, you finally feel like you have a thing to do that isn’t just survive.
Let’s fast forward a bit.
You’ve been at this for a while, and you’ve made some leaps, and you’ve taken some chances. You’ve established yourself as a writer, made some real friends, and you are still doing what you love. You don’t make much, and sometimes it feels like the work you put in isn’t giving you the monetary reward you were hoping for. What keeps you going? A few things.
It’s the friends who walk you through your blocks and are there when you need to talk about something. It’s the writers you look up to, whose work you love, who say, “I hope you are selling well because your writing is good,” or “you are an amazing writer,” or “I wish I’d written this.” It’s the fans who find you and commit to supporting you, or new writers who are just looking for any help you can offer. Those people are what keep you going. That and the never-ending list of ideas you keep adding to. Yes, there’s sometimes crippling imposter syndrome that tells you that you aren’t good enough and that’s why you aren’t making much headway. It makes you set things aside you really want to do for fear that they won’t amount to anything with the time they will require that you don’t have enough of as it is. But when the anxiety clears, and you set on your path again, you remember why you started this. I’ve always said I write for me, even if no one else in the world ever reads my work. That will never change.
So, what’s the problem then? Well, that’s where it gets tricky.
You’ve built this whole person. Someone who isn’t afraid to live their best life. Who is constantly pushing themselves and making the best out of what they have. Someone who explores their desires, pushes those boundaries, and lets their passions loose for all the world to see. They aren’t afraid to reach out and make friends, or lend a comforting ear, or offer advice to people seeking it. Someone who has so much love for people who are mostly strangers, except for the passion they share in their craft. And some of these people you are closer to than people you know for real. You’ve fallen so far into this ‘other person’ you’ve created that it becomes a part of you.
But here’s the heart-wrenching truth. That person, in a way, isn’t real. They are, but they aren’t. They are a part of you, but a part that no one knows about, or very few do. They are a secret that you’d love to tell, but the price is too high. Why? Because life isn’t fair, just, or easy.
There’s the crush of everyday life, because even though you see some small amount of revenue from this passion, it won’t ever amount to enough to leave your actual job. The thing that helps you, you know, survive. You have to go to work, even if it’s a job you don’t want to keep, because what are the alternatives? In our capitalist society, money is everything. The question is always: how do I make more to get where I want to go? How do I earn more money to have the things I want, even if the only thing I want is to survive? Yeah, my situation isn’t that dire, but I’ve been there, and it’s not a place I ever want to be again.
I cannot tell people what I do. I can’t tell my family that I write erotica because they don’t want to hear that, they wouldn’t understand, and some of them would not be okay with it. I’m not in a personal place where I can choose to walk away from them. I can’t, for my own sanity, write them out. So they can’t know. Oh, how I wish I could share any success with them, or excitement when I publish something new, or recommend books that I’m reading, or explain what I’m doing with my ‘spare’ time that I can’t do this other thing instead. They can’t know what I do because I can’t take them not understanding me any more than they don’t already.
As things shift in our world, it’s becoming increasingly unsafe to be anything others see as ‘abnormal’. You can’t be someone who doesn’t fit society’s mold because there are too many people who can’t or won’t understand what that means and think you shouldn’t exist. You can’t be in charge of your own person because too many people in power won’t allow it. If the wrong people get the wrong information, it can have devastating consequences.
I feel like I’m both a part of the world and separate from it. I can’t be my true me because of what that means. I feel detached in a way because there are a great many injustices happening right now, and I want to scream for people to stop! Let people be who they are, love who they love, and stop acting like anyone should be superior to another. Stop killing our world with greed and confinement and your egotistical bullshit because we all have a right to be here as people, and if things don’t change, there won’t be an inhabitable world left for any of us.
So many things I want to stand up for, but at the end of the day, I don’t feel safe doing so, not as me, anyway. I want to fight the battles that others can’t for any number of reasons. I want to be the voice of those that don’t have one, or are suppressed, or discounted, or suffering. And there’s a part of me that wants to wage war for what I believe in. But the real part of me, the part that has to face the world, isn’t so brave. That part of me has crippling anxiety, depression, and a fear that nothing I do matters because who am I? I’m nobody. I’m not influential, well known, rich, powerful, or any of the things that make any difference in our society. Not to mention, if I do those things and someone holds a grudge, I can’t do anything to stop them from coming after me or those I love. Nothing! That’s what we’ve become as a society. It’s happening. People are stalked, harassed, bullied, and worse because someone didn’t like what they said, or ignored advances, or for just plain existing. The corrupt own everything, and it’s not getting better from where I’m watching.
But what about this ‘other’ side? What about the part of me that gives into my rants and threatens to burn the world down for a cause I’m passionate about, but limit because it’s not what we talk about here? The side of me that shares political information because people need to wake up and see what’s happening, but not too much to scare people away. The side of me that fights for our world, and for everyone in it to be who they are without judgment or ridicule. The part of me that wants to share myself with the world and show others that you can live your passions and be you, and it doesn’t or shouldn’t matter what you identify as if you aren’t hurting anyone and it makes you happy and whole.
Here’s why it matters.
It’s a balancing act. The two parts of me are at war inside, trying to figure out where I go from here. I can’t give too much of myself- the self that people know because I’m worried about what that means for my family if some nut job decides that I’m speaking too loudly. I tiptoe the line on my ‘other’ self because at the end of the day, I created it as an outlet for creativity and to maybe sell a few books. If you throw too much of real life into that fantasy, it starts to collapse. People leave who are trying to get away from it all. And yes, the ones that walk away because they are offended or disagree with me, I don’t want them in my energy anyway. But what about the rest? If being the voice of reality because I don’t have to worry about people finding me is going to push people away, then is it worth it? Do I dare sacrifice people who may help me fund my passion because I’m getting too ‘real’ with some of them?
Here’s the verdict.
At the end of the day, I’m writing for me and because it’s what I love. If I lose people because I get ‘too political’ or ‘too real’, then so be it. If I can’t stand up for what’s important, then what am I even doing? I can’t hide in the shadows when I have an outlet to be heard. Because I’ve hidden the parts of myself that are vulnerable, I can sleep better at night knowing I’m doing anything with the reach I have. No, I’m not going to be world famous because of my writing, but any reach is better than none and a few thousand people are not nothing, considering those thousands also have thousands and it amplifies the farther it goes. I can be a voice for the things or people that don’t have one, the intangible things that make us who we are and need us to fight for them.
It matters because it’s important. It matters because it should. I’m not just a writer. Even though that’s where this started, it’s not where it ends. From now on, I’m not going to shy away from important things. We have to do better with the voices we are given. Some people aren’t going to like it. They don’t have to. I’m going to be me and all of me that I can. I’m weird. I’m passionate. I’m sensual. I’m a bit of a dork. I talk about politics, and climate, and assholes being assholes, and society’s shortcomings, and books, and life, and love, and all the other things that are important. I say things that aren’t popular or aren’t things you talk about. I don’t care anymore. If that doesn’t suit someone, then they are free to leave my space. We are on the precipice of a revolution. We stand at a crossroads where truly evil people threaten the existence of others.
The duality inside is real. I want to be both selves and do good things. I want to help people in any way I can. This ‘other’ side of me can more safely do that, and make me feel like maybe I can make a difference in someone's life. I’m not going to stop writing, and I’m not going to shy away from other topics either. We have but one life to live, and we should be our best selves. That means following our dreams, trying to achieve happiness even in a small amount, and making a difference where we can. I’m giving into the part of me that wants to matter. Where that takes me is a journey unknown. I’m ready to travel that path.
The only question is, are you coming with me?
