If you were to ask me and many writers what the worst part of being a writer is, we’d say promoting our books.
I can’t say I enjoy it. I feel like a tout, lurking around, forcing my wares on unsuspecting people who just want to go about their every day business. That was the reason I didn’t go into sales or business. I hate the thought of making people buy something that they wouldn’t have otherwise done.
But it’s necessary. Of course it is. What’s the point of publishing if people aren’t going to buy it? I mean, I WANT people to buy my stuff. But how can they if they don’t know it’s out there or what it’s about?
I’m getting better at it. I hope. *dubious silence*
Am I wrong to admit to being crap at self-promotion? Actually, I don’t think I am crap at it, but I admit to not enjoying it. There we are, I’m being honest.
So, with honesty in mind, I thought I’d try a different tack. I write erotica. People buy my stuff because they want to be turned on, they want to read about people having belly-churning, surprising, exhilarating sex and, most likely, they’ll be having a wank while reading it. I mean, that’s what I want out of erotica.
Many promotions of erotic books dress them up as something beyond the sex. Yes, they often are, but people tend to be drawn to the sex in the first place. Is it original? Is it well-written? Is it going to turn me on?
So, here I go with the honesty:
Yes, the sex in my books is original, well-written and will turn you on. In Spontaneous, there is the following, guaranteed to make you come hard: (Well, why not?)
Blow job with a stranger;
Sex in a car watched by a stranger (not dogging though, I should mention);
Sex in a supermarket with a stranger;
Sex with five men in a board room, including oral, anal, DP and spanking;
Super hot romantic vanilla sex.
So there we have it. Honesty. Phew. That was hard. But what have I got to lose? Maybe we should all try it some time.
Best wishes to you all.