Monster erotica has peaked. Though people are still offering it on amazon, nobody is writing about the genre. The latest news article I can find declared it dead, and that was last March. My favorite monster erotica bloggers haven’t updated their blogs since 2014.
So it would appear that I was late to the party, and might do well to quit wasting my time. I don’t have much invested, financially, so I could cut my losses and not be much worse off.
Actually, I wouldn’t be worse off at all. I’m better off for having done what I’ve done. I’ve learned a few tricks about writing that I didn’t get from writing a novel. I’d probably know more about writing, if I’d taken more writing classes in college, or gone to some expensive writing workshop in a distant location; but instead I’ve studied writing by writing erotica. Not a bad trade-off, in my mind. And, in my painfully slow way, I’ve learned more about production and self-publishing. If I keep up, by the time I finish my current (non-erotic) novel, I just might be able to publish it in a reasonable period of time, without pulling my hair out or smashing my computer. That’s a pretty big step, for me.
And I still get new ideas. There are more monster stories to be written. I haven’t written the one about the sheela na gig and the dragon. That’ll be one for the more mature ladies, who, I believe, deserve more quality erotica aimed to them.
Another new idea just came to me this week: it would be a combination of a bigfoot story and a satire on those goofballs hanging out at the nature preserve in Oregon. Snacks, anyone? Oh boy, that’ll be a fun one to write.
They’re all fun. Writing monster erotica is hilariously delicious. Cut my losses? Ha! I’m not quitting till I’m done, and I’m not done. I may be the last hold-out, but as far as I’m concerned, the party’s just starting.
Happy 2016, folks.
After several months hiatus as an erotica writer, I am finally making progress. I’m in process of uploading Summer of the Centaur to Amazon, so it won’t be much longer now before its release. Maybe you’ll be able to purchase this luscious story as a Christmas gift for the monster erotica enthusiast in your life.
Unlike my previous monster erotica offering, Lure of the Prairie Monster, this one will be available exclusively on Amazon, and if you watch carefully, you might catch one of five days when it will be free! I don’t know when they’ll be yet, but I’ll be sure to announce it here at Crea DelRand’s Monster Erotica.
Happy holidays, friends.
It’s a huge compliment to be reviewed, even more so when the reviewer is a professor of writing and literature, one whose (non-erotic) novel, Clotho’s Loom, was one of my favorites of the last few years. In this essay, St Jean shares some spot-on insight into the subterranean desires that drive monster erotica.
“I gathered poets around me and we all wrote beautiful erotica. As we were condemned to focus only on sensuality, we had violent explosions of poetry. Writing erotica became a road to sainthood rather than to debauchery.” -Anais Nin, Delta of Venus
Somebody on facebook posted a quote from Anais Nin. It was in a context completely unrelated to anything having to do with her or her life. It was posted by a person whom I do not know, though I do know the church he attends, and I’m going to guess that if he or his friends had any idea who she was or how she lived, they would run and hide at the sight of her name on their screens.
So today we’re having a little Anais Nin lesson on Crea DelRand. For those who don’t know, Nin is the Aphra Behn of modern erotica by women. She is most famous for her diaries, in which she wrote of her affairs with prominent literary and cultural figures such as Henry Miller and psychoanalyst Otto Rank. She plumbed the depths of her subconscious through psychoanalysis and writing, and may have seduced her father in her twenties, on the advice of a psychoanalyst. Anais Nin wrote what she wanted, the way she wanted to. She flaunted the mores and expectations of society. (Which is more socially unacceptable: incest, erotica, or surrealism?)
Nin was much more than an erotica writer; though it is the erotica which draws me to feel a special kinship with her. Let all of us honor her, we women who write about sensuality and sexuality, with beauty and passion.
“I will die a poet killed by the nonpoets, will renounce no dream, resign myself to no ugliness, accept nothing of the world but the one I made myself. I wrote, lived, loved like Don Quixote, and on the day of my death I will say: ‘Excuse me, it was all a dream,’ and by that time I may have found one who will say: ‘Not at all, it was true, absolutely true.’”
I’d read Celia Dunroy’s blog and thought I’d like her stories, so I asked her if I could review one. She sent me this new piece about an encounter with a satyr, and I loved it.
Heroine Lady Aislinn is a noble lady of a more feudal era who lives in her father’s household, as she is as yet unmarried. She secretly entertains a satyr in her room, where she avoids civilized society by feigning migraines. Her essential conflict squeezes Lady Aislinn between fulfilling her role as a proper lady, and throwing off the strictures of society to run wild in the magical forest with her half-feral lover.
Dunroy does a marvelous job of illustrating this conflict with one deliciously erotic scene. Who says literary fiction can’t be graphically sexy? This might be the first erotic story I’ve ever re-read just to enjoy the well-crafted writing. I hope she releases it soon, because the world needs more of this quality of monster erotica.