So No, Actually I Didn’t Stop

So yes, I am thinking about this again.

I think I do write porn, sometimes.

Like porn in some form, because truthfully, I have no intention that it do more than turn someone on, and I have no expectation the reader does either.

I think I got a little caught up in some subconscious thing of porn means film, and erotica means writing, and that threw me a bit.

So to re-think that.

I think when I say “smut” I really mean “porn for people who aren’t necessarily visually stimulated” which really isn’t that different to porn for people who are, on some moral or whatever level.  Just it looks different.  Visual porn, like proper movie porn, is more in your face, and it’s probably harder to hide when it starts getting weird, but I don’t know it’s actually different.

If that makes sense.

Which isn’t to say that some of what I write isn’t actual erotica, intended to be more uplifting that A goes into B.

Or A goes into B, followed by C, D, and E going into B.  Then A consuming what C, D, and E left in B.

So yes, some is definitely meant to be more moving, or profound, or meaningful than something to wank to.  Of course.

But some of it is just smut, so I probably shouldn’t get too full of myself and pretend otherwise.  In the sense that trashy romance novels do for women what porn does for men, I don’t know it’s fair to judge too harshly on the basis of films vs writing, if all anyone is actually doing is some kind escapist fantasy to make themselves happy.

I mean, yes, get completely fucking upset with the content, obviously.  That’s fine.  But nice porn, that doesn’t hurt anyone, vs erotica, it seems like in some ways it’s different media, and a different audience, rather than something profoundly different.

Which I guess makes me a pornographer, after all.

I’m really stopping now.