Why I Write Erotica

I write erotica because I love lust. I write erotica because I lust love.

I once told a man that if I ever lost everything it wouldn’t be on account of drugs or drink. No, I told him, it will certainly be because of women. Girls. Skirts.

And I couldn’t have been any closer to the truth.

Only two months after I spoke these unformulated words for the first time and I lost the love of my life. And in the tumult that subsequently blew me hither and thither, I proceed to lose, or leave behind everything I owned, in that funeral wake.

Then, some months later, when I learned how to dance for the first time in my life – under the summery stars filled to the gills with sangria – I resurfaced from my tenebrous well of despair. Naked and without a home. Unclothed and fearful, teary-eyed and as uncertain about my identity as I had ever been.

This may have been the most beautiful summer of my life.

Because it was here where I learned, once again, about the epistemological constant: of polarities. Of yes and no. On and off. Black and white. Zero and one. Right and wrong. Here and gone. Love and fear. Grief and praise.

In this I saw just how fluid life is. Here I actually saw life as Heraclitus had described it thousands of years ago: as a river that is constantly in flux. A liquid medium.

I learned that within fear is love. And within love is some element of fear.

I learned that when you grieve over something, you are also praising it. Here I learned to cry and laugh and slobber all over myself in the same breath of incantations and revelations.

And so, while I have known intoxication in all its forms of chemical combinations: of every imaginable drug and concoction of alcohol and herbs – the intoxication that I have always held supreme above others has been girls. Since I was a small child. I have always been accused of being girl crazy. Since my first kiss behind the bookcase in first grade. My first French kiss in third grade. My unending string of jumping from one girl to the next, all the way through my school years. And beyond, into adulthood. When I was supposed to be monogamous with the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world (aka, the love of my life/the girl that I lost).

In my liaisons, I have been reckless. Unconscious. Distrustful. Addicted. Broken. Overjoyed. A student.

In my liaisons with girls I have spanned the gamut of human emotion. Of up and down and all around.

This is why I write erotica. Because I have been obsessed by this drug that I call girls for all of my days. Because I have been healed by this remedy of girls. Because I have been broken by this treatment of girls. Because I have found solace and peace and empowerment in this medicine that I call girls.

And I am no longer afraid of saying as much.

This is why I write erotica: Because it comes out of me with fire and bravado and exemplifies every virtue I have ever been exposed to. I write this erotica because it is my story. My history. My truth. My learning curve. My heart on my sleeve and my cock on my chest. I write this erotica because it creates a fire inside of me and like the exploding cosmos I can give life with my pen, writing within the narrative of our collected histories.

I write erotica because I have called it to me. Just as it has called me to it.

I write erotica because, in it I hear Beethoven’s “Eroica”. My “Eroica”. My heroism.

I write erotica because I love lust. I write erotica because I lust love.

And in this river that is life, in this liquid medium, I am made buoyant – because I write in general, as my way of life. But I have noticed that I am no longer treading water in the rapids and torrents – instead, I find myself swimming with a sophisticated cultivation through the white waters of my life. As though my arms have finally grown into place. And like paddles, I am gliding. Flying. Navigating this life as though water is my language. As though I have discovered some great and magical boat that cuts invisibly through the stretches of this transparent, watery universe.

One of my heroes, Mr. Charles Bukowski wrote a very poignant piece on writing which I am constantly reminded of. In this you can substitute whatever verb or noun you wish for the descriptor he uses, of “writer”.

Here is that poem. That reminder. That mantra.

“So you want to be a writer?”
Charles Bukowski

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.

if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.

the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.

don’t add to that.

don’t do it.

unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.

unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

~ by The Provocateur on October 1, 2007.

6 Responses to “Why I Write Erotica”

  1. bravo!

  2. Yeah, I love that poem too 🙂

  3. You write with such passion; lust.

    Glad I was introduced to your site by Angela St. Lawrence. I can see I will get absolutely lost, in a great way, on your site!

    Keep up the awesome work.

  4. I was very moved and Intrigued by your words. I feel that same “love of Lust” and that “Lust for Love”. The kind of Lust that makes your lips quiver with anticipation. The kind of Lust that lets you look so deeply into each others eyes, with an intensity like none other…That you are one with each other…never wanting that feeling of closeness to end. That deep, passionate,slow and wet kiss that literally takes your breath away…and keeps taking it and taking it….endlessly. I crave these sensations, feelings always. To find this kind of Love, I have found, is rare….but GOD I have felt it and I will always remember it…I will always smile remembering the ONLY TWO Men who ever made me feel this way. I want to feel this way always…Im always craving…Always Searching…I want it so bad that it hurts me physically…I am so passionate, so Loving, so alone!!! I am wanted and Loved, but not the way i speak of…I feel just for my body…used…No Lust, no Passion or Desire. I know how to make a man feel like a man, I need a strong Man who knows how to make me feel like the woman that I most definatly am…I miss this kind of love…I feel I will never find it again…..I pray I will…I would trade the rest of my life, however long that may be…to have this for just one night….Im sorry, You stirred something inside me and I Thank You…You write truly beautiful….TRULY you do!

  5. You intoxicate me. More, please…

  6. AP, we all do what we are born to do. Some fight it, diminishing their impact.
    Others embrace it-the calling-and cause the world to glow.

    And here I stand, smiling in your light.

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