Number Nine

Way off on the west coast side of South Dakota, the 9th Annual South Dakota Book Festival is in full swing. I'm not there this year, though I've attended three of them. Including the inaugural festival in Deadwood in 2003. Where I had an interview with a real-life literary agent from a New York publishing agency. I waited in line for nearly two hours with twenty or so other writers hoping to get their foot in the mainstream book publishing door. I had a fascinating conversation with two women who were already making a pretty regular income writing for numerous erotica publications. They looked so PTA mommish in their turtleneck sweaters and tweedy blazers and no nonsense sleek bobbed hairstyles. It was astonishing to me that they wrote about naughty bits. Apparently the erotica genre contains numerous sub-categories of content. So you simply find the niche you feel comfortable in, be it bestiality or bodice ripper or whatever may exist in between, let your imagination or practical experience run wild and free, write, write, write and submit. It's likely you'll get published. Erotic writing has a solid base of consumers whose appetite is ever hungry for more, I was assured. The most important thing, they cautioned, was to use an alias. Invent a nom de plume and never, ever divulge that you are associated with it. Use the income to support your real writing endeavors, the writing you wish to be known for. Under your actual name. The thing is, you will never, ever find success in mainstream publishing if you are an acknowledged porn writer. So keep a low profile, write trash under an assumed name, and keep your eyes focused on the literary prize. And wouldn't you like to know if I have.