The fact that what people have begun to expect when they pick up a title under the ‘erotica’ genre has changed, or that many readers have begun to transfer their very specific narrative, story-line, and structural expectations (which some genres have always accommodated – like romance) and transferred those expectations over to genres that previously never felt the need to meet them, cannot possibly be laid at Joan’s door.

I read for pleasure. There are days I will not read ‘dark’ because I am not in the proper mood. I do not think you should be reading ‘dark’ at all, let alone writing a column on it. You do not know what it is. You seem to have ‘vanilla’ tastes and I recommend doing more research when trying to decide whether to purchase a given book.

This was the preserve of romance. And if a reader was looking for a guarantee that the interaction would result in a romantically settled ending, regardless of how sexually explicit the story got in the middle, that would be the genre they looked within. Unlike almost any other genre (with the exception of the cosy mystery), romance promised the reader a very predictable narrative structure. And clearly this addressed a strong desire in its fans to revisit the structure over and over. For at least the last 50 years. The rise of erotic romance as a genre really muddied the waters. Because those readers of romance, loyal and bearing very precise expectations of structure, poured over into the erotica genre. And, meanwhile, many erotica publishers were very interested in the sales they could reap from these new readers.

With the jawdropping success of FSOG (sold as ‘erotica’ but possessing a very clear romance narrative romance structure and ethos) the expectation on the part of readers of what any given ‘erotica’ book would contain changed radically. In essence, the genre has been entirely subsumed. And the very rigid expectations of what any novel labeled ‘erotica’ emerged.

My ire was not aimed at you. Your post simply did an excellent job of illustrating a very clear set of reader expectations. And I don’t agree that the ‘floaties’ are easier to find. They are buried beneath a tsunami of FSOG copycats.

In terms of disdaining whores, please don’t assume just because I write erotic fiction that I somehow hold the identical opinions to other writers within my genre. I’m an individual, with idiosyncratic opinions.

I have a great deal of respect for anyone who honestly plies their trade, whatever it may be. Having been a sex worker, I am not in the least confused about the difference between what a writer does and what a sex worker does. Sex workers effect orgasms for money. They get their clients off, within reason, at the time and in the way the client has requested. Erotic writers write narrative that involve sexual desire. The stories may or may not arouse any individual reader.

The minute a reader demands that a writer ‘get them off’ in exactly the way they require, they are treating the writer as a whore. And the minute a writer complies, she or he is acting like one. And has ceased to be a writer.

I have no problem with whoring. It’s just not the service I’m offering. And if I have the right to be offended when a man in a bar assumes I’m one, I have the right to be just as offended when a reader assumes it.

> This expectation makes erotica writers into literary sex workers.

I guess the question I have is, “When wasn’t this more-or-less the case?” For every Story of O there were hundreds and hundreds of stories about prison lesbians and farmer’s daughters and lusty nurses and murderous, cheating housewives. The cover art for all those books is public domain already because it wasn’t legal to claim it, and like the visual porno of the time, it often had mob-controlled distribution channels. When you look at the sheer *quantity* of mid-century erotica, compared to the, what? Four authors? Maybe? That we’ve lionized as “literary?”

The bulk of smut’s usually been half sex work.

Was the ‘golden age’ in the 70′s? The 90′s, maybe? The 1890s? Or is it just that sex narrative, in and of itself, in Western imagination, has a touch of the inherent banal? There’s a Chuck Klosterman quote that gets punted around teh internet. “Nothing about sex is cerebral…at least, none of the good parts are.” A lot of people genuinely believe it.

It may be that the Big-Mac-oriented present is the golden age. I don’t have to drown in the banality. There are floaties of non-banal out there, and they’re much easier to find than they used to be.

I am also somewhat curious as to which genre the “content product” concept doesn’t apply. I suppose, all writers are whores. But is it really forward-thinking for an eroticist to disdain whores?

Reading is no longer about having an adventure or being shocked, or surprised, or challenged, or stumbling across something unexpected. If it doesn’t conform to the tropes they have been led to expect from whatever sub-sub-sub genre marketing they’ve had it sold to them as, they feel ripped off.

This expectation makes erotica writers into literary sex workers. It makes them factory staff, churning out formulaic trope after formulaic trope. Change the names, the colour of hair, the professions of the characters, and run the same trick again. God forbid a reader should end up with something unexpected on their kindles.

May you get what you deserve. And may you drown in the predictable banality of it all.

The Skye Warren books I think start out dark but then have a decently redemptive ending. Maybe you don’t feel like you need a hug after you’ve read them.