Why I Write Erotica

On being a word slut and the power of storytelling

I’ve always been a word slut.

From the moment I perfected my phonics, you could find me either curled up with my nose in a book and a cat in my lap, or writing my own stories.

Stories became a source of magic — another world to get lost in, another dimension where I could experience life outside of this one, where I could soak in experiences that weren’t possible or accessible, or I could connect with the collective through shared experience.

I love stories. The fantastical ones. The true ones. The ones that make you feel something deep in your core. The ones that you want to read or hear again and again because there was something that spoke directly to you or awakened something that you didn’t even know was alive within.

And, you know, I love the spicy ones.

Erotica has always been one of my greatest portals to turn-on because of my love for words. What better way to ignite the pulse of my pussy than through stories? But reading erotica, getting lost in someone else’s story… well, it’s only the first layer.

Writing erotica — real, messy stories about my most delicious sexual experiences, or the fantasies I’ve only ever played out in my imagination — it cracks something open within me.

It began as a way to capture and preserve my favourite memories I’d revisit on repeat, but slowly, as I sunk into a practice of tapping into my creative Eros, describing the sensations and textures of desire, I felt my pussy tingle awake, as if for the first time in my life.

It made me wet. It stirred something low and molten in my belly, a hunger I forgot I was allowed to have. It dropped me deeper into my body, made me want sex — harder and softer and slower and faster and more than ever before.

And yet, writing about sex isn’t just about turn-on.

I write because it’s my catharsis. A way to make sense of my lived experiences. To spill the most untouched parts of myself onto the page — the sex that turned my legs to jell-o, the gut-wrenching heartbreak, the ex that still visits me in my dreams — so that I don’t have to hold it all inside me. It became an outlet to tell the stories my body always wanted to tell.

I write because it gives me closure. Because sometimes it’s the only way to say goodbye to the lovers that still haunt me and an opportunity to rewrite the endings that didn’t pan out the way I wanted them to — whether it’s getting the breakup sex from the guy who lives on the other side of the world who I will never see again in real life, or getting the last word in with the one who made me feel small.

I write because it allows me to experience what I haven’t in real life. The threesome with the girl I’ve only ever admitted to my husband that I have a crush on — the one I may never act upon because it would be too weird for our friendship. Or the fantasies of falling in lust with the vampire who loves to fuck me on my period. It lets me live it in my imagination, satisfying a need, a craving that I may not — or most definitely will not — experience in real life. It opens a whole world of endless sexual exploration.

I write because it always takes me on a journey — usually an unexpected one. A journey through the intricacies of my Eros and desires, excavating the things that stir my soul, some that I never knew were buried. The things I’ve been afraid to admit to myself or to speak out loud that are finally given space to rise to the surface and see the light.

I write because it makes my voice bolder, louder, and more sensual — all at the same time. It brings words and language to things my body wants and needs and craves, gives me the courage to own them without shying away, to take up space in my turn-on, and to articulate it to my lovers so sex isn’t just sex. It’s satiating and time-stopping and delicious in every way I need it to be.

I write to meet myself. To know myself as an erotic being, on every level. To understand my sexual identity in all its nuance. To see and feel and celebrate the things that make my body come alive.

I write as a permission slip. Because my voice is power, and so is yours. And my greatest wish is not only to be heard, but to make you feel heard and felt through my stories. To make you feel seen. And to inspire you to write your story, too.

Why do you write? Share with me, I’d love to know what inspires you and turns you on.