So, what is erotica?

When you look at genres as their most basic elements, it is easier to understand. Horror’s focus is something scary. A mystery’s focus is something mysterious that someone has to figure out. Romance is about the romantic relationship between people.

Erotica is about sexual relationships with other people or even the character’s own private relationship with sex. You can have erotica with no explicit sex scenes in it at all. Being “about” sex and being filled with sex are different things. A horror book is not about a monster, it’s about how that monster terrifies people.

I have seen some writers refer to what they write as smut (and some readers too). Smut, other than the word uptight people use trying to insult romance writers, is stuff written to titillate only. They’re masturbatory aids. Smut is erotica, but not all erotica is smut. It’s like squares and rectangles.

Do I write erotica?

Yes, I do. Mostly I write erotic romance if I’m delving into sex at all, but sometimes the whole, long relationship and happily ever after may not happen.

I think sex can include just as much a personal characteristic and journey as romance does. Sexuality is a large part of most people’s lives. Not only if they are “getting some,” but also how they identify, what urges they might have when they meet someone new, and how they fantasize and fulfill themselves when they’re alone.

The whole host of human emotion goes into my stories. I want readers to feel right along with my characters and always try to portray things accurately. Even the fantasy or paranormal aspects of my stories have real reactions, thought processes, and feelings at their core. They just also have shapeshifters or dragons.

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Well, not everyone… but a huge chunk of the book-buying public does.

Romances are the ultimate fantasies because they are such an integral part of the human experience. People involved in romances are all-consumed by the experience. People who are not are occasionally consumed with getting into one… or at least getting some action.

Normal romance with human main characters is super popular for just those reasons. People want to feel the characters fall in love and either think back to when they were in love or imagine how it would be if they get the chance.

And then you throw in a werewolf, a vampire, an alien or even a ghost.

People like reading about those things too. Often they show up in suspense stories, horror, fantasy or sci-fi and people get excited about the fear they instill, the strangeness of their interactions with everyday humans and yes, the power they wield over the people they come in contact with.

Paranormal romance is enjoyed for an intriguing compote of all these reasons rolled into one.

Take your basic vampire romance novel. A woman is searching for love, or maybe she’s searching for fulfillment at work or something else and is surprised by love. Maybe she’s always been careful with her life and is suddenly intrigued by the “bad boy” that shows up in the night club.

The lure of “bad boys” is strong. You women know what I’m talking about. And what boy could be badder than one who drinks people’s blood or tears them apart when the moon is full? It’s the sense of danger that makes them exciting. The sense of on-the-edge-of-your-seat, what-will-happen-next anticipation.

Danger mixed with romance is a very potent combination. It’s the ultimate in star-crossed lovers… forbidden love.

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There’s a bit of genre disconnect for people who aren’t actually involved with the genres, or writing or books. Most romance is a fantasy. There isn’t actually a lonely cowboy looking for a spunky emerald-eyed nymph out there in real life. People read romance to enjoy the fantasy of cute meets, long, teasing glances and a forever love.

It’s A fantasy, but not necessarily fantasy.

Some people hear fantasy and they either think magic and dragons, Game of Thrones or Harry Potter. Fantasy romance could be some kind of secret Draco and Hermione ship. It could be whatever passes for love in GoT (probably among siblings or complete enemies). It could be a dragon shifter and his prey… er… intended bride?

It could be something with rich world building, in-depth characters with goals and dreams and trials external to the quest for love. There are tons of fantasy books with romance in them, but fantasy-romance is a bit different. Like with all romance genres books, the main point of it all is the couple and getting to that happily ever after.

In the end, it can be a pain in the butt to explain the intricacies of genre lines with someone who is not invested in the world of fiction. Better to just describe your story and recommend they read it.

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I was chatting with a fellow writer yesterday about all the apocalyptic fiction out there at the moment and how many of them included romance. Her general idea was that there might be plenty of sex at the end of the world — it is, after all, a great stress reliever — but that people would turn away from love and romance because there would be so much despair and negativity.

Though you’d be hard-pressed to find some candles and a sappy violinist during the apocalypse, I don’t believe romance would be dead. It would be different, more primal. Giving someone you love your ration of food, bringing them a flower or anything pretty you might find while scavenging, going out of your way to make something a bit more pleasant than the despair all around you.

One fresh blueberry can stand in for a diamond.

People are naturally hard-wired to love one another, I think. While sex is an animal need, a craving and, as mentioned above, a great way to find some pleasure in a non-pleasurable world, falling in love with someone is a very human need, I think.

We want connections. We want someone on our side. And in a world where everything seems bleak or actively working against us, when things look darkest, I think we’re much more likely to fall in love. It might be our only comfort left.

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Excerpt:

Kenna’s feet staggered to a stop. Not fifteen feet away, a dumpster filled with ripped cardboard and wood scrap blazed gently under the gathering clouds.

Before it, hands spread and fingers splayed against the metal side, the brown-haired firefighter stood backlit by the flames. No turnout coat protected him from the blaze or Kenna’s searching gaze. No red truck or even a fire extinguisher to lend purpose to his appearance on the scene.

She took a step forward, drawn toward the fire and the man who glowed in its red light. Another step, her eyes fixed on the dancing gouts of flame spiraling up from the cardboard. One flared up suddenly, and a puff of black ash flew into the air.

Kenna gasped aloud, unaware that she made a sound until the man spun away from the dumpster to stare at her. A hot look of anger and guilt flashed across his features and then vanished.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, then ran a hand over his face with a slight shake of his head. “I mean, it’s not safe here.” His voice softened as he spoke.

Their gazes met and locked together. Kenna searched for something in the dark recesses of his eyes, something that would tell her why he was here, alone, with this fire. He looked away.

“I was taking a walk,” she said. “I smelled smoke and thought…”

He shot a glance over his shoulder and turned back, his lips tightening. “Me too,” he said. “It’s contained. Will burn itself out soon enough.”

For a moment as Kenna looked at the flames, they surged upward as if to bely his words. He turned, his fingers hooking over the edge of the dumpster, his back to Kenna again. She stepped forward and watched the lines of red race alone the edges of the wood.

He turned back, and suddenly she was standing too close. His breath blew against her cheek, hot with the warm scent of the smoke from the fire. Tiny motes of ash clung to the front of his t-shirt and Kenna found herself wanting to brush them away, rub her fingers over them till they grew gray.

Silence except for the crackle of the flames and the sound of a dog barking somewhere far away. Then he cleared his throat. “You should leave. Go back to town.” Another smoky breath wafted over her. “It’s not a safe place for a young woman to walk.”

Reality crashed back into Kenna’s mind, and she faltered backward. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I should get going. I’m expected…” She scurried away, almost jogging around the loading dock and the corner of the building. She looked back once to find the firefighter staring at her, his eyes reflecting the red flames that dwindled in the dumpster.

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