I remember during my mid to late teens, In Ireland in the mid 80’s, a new magazine emerged. I think it was called One to One. It was women’s erotica, and even though I hadn’t yet discovered sex, I knew the stories were stirring something in me. I bought it religiously, read it over and over and then stashed them up in the top of my wardrobe. I left home and nowadays I blush at the thought of who was the one who eventually cleared them out of the wardrobe, my mother or our housekeeper, either was as bad, but of course I forgot all about them as I went off to discover the delights of London. Then in London I used to collect the Classics, they cost £1 each and I bought a few every week, never even looking at the flyleaf. One of the ones I picked up was Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure by John Cleland, written in the 1740’s I think. It was hot as hell, and as I had now discovered sex, it was all the better. Now and then I still buy erotic fiction, it’s easier to buy now with the Kindle. I know this is a gross generalisation, but I think men like visual erotica, pictures, DVD’s etc. but women like to use their imaginations, it’s not necessarily that we enjoy sex less, but we enjoy it differently. Sometimes I think pressure on women to be better than equal, to be perfect career women, wives, mothers and friends and still have time to look bloody marvellous gets too much. Hence the reason for the erotic romance: you can lose yourself into a fantasy world, there is no pressure and as you relax into it you can enjoy the erotic feelings that envelop you while you relax, while you are not worrying about the laundry, being a taxi service, being super efficient at work or feeling too tired for more than a quick fumble in the dark.
Women and Erotic Writing
ReplyDeleteI remember during my mid to late teens, In Ireland in the mid 80’s, a new magazine emerged. I think it was called One to One.
It was women’s erotica, and even though I hadn’t yet discovered sex, I knew the stories were stirring something in me.
I bought it religiously, read it over and over and then stashed them up in the top of my wardrobe. I left home and nowadays I blush at the thought of who was the one who eventually cleared them out of the wardrobe, my mother or our housekeeper, either was as bad, but of course I forgot all about them as I went off to discover the delights of London.
Then in London I used to collect the Classics, they cost £1 each and I bought a few every week, never even looking at the flyleaf. One of the ones I picked up was Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure by John Cleland, written in the 1740’s I think. It was hot as hell, and as I had now discovered sex, it was all the better.
Now and then I still buy erotic fiction, it’s easier to buy now with the Kindle.
I know this is a gross generalisation, but I think men like visual erotica, pictures, DVD’s etc. but women like to use their imaginations, it’s not necessarily that we enjoy sex less, but we enjoy it differently.
Sometimes I think pressure on women to be better than equal, to be perfect career women, wives, mothers and friends and still have time to look bloody marvellous gets too much. Hence the reason for the erotic romance: you can lose yourself into a fantasy world, there is no pressure and as you relax into it you can enjoy the erotic feelings that envelop you while you relax, while you are not worrying about the laundry, being a taxi service, being super efficient at work or feeling too tired for more than a quick fumble in the dark.
Paula Costello, Author of The Firm Hand of Love,