I really wondered about this when I started writing erotica.
During my first draft and early revisions of The Trickster’s Lover, I tried not to talk about my writing around my kids.
I quickly realized that’s basically impossible.
When one of my stories gets accepted, I want to celebrate with the family. When one gets rejected, my daughter wants to help me color in the rejection art.
Plus, most of my works are independently published. Indy publishing is a business, and my husband is my business partner, so the kids end up overhearing lots of un-sexy conversations about things like profit margins and attracting an audience. The kids know I’m a writer.
But do they know I’m an erotica writer?
Well. Here, in its entirety, is a recent conversation I had with my six-year-old about exactly this.
Context: My Very Proper Sister just told me she’d never let any of my smut novels through the door of her house.
Kid: What’s a smut novel?
Me: She means my books have sex in them.
Kid: What’s sex?
Me: It’s another word for making love. Remember that book we have about how babies are made?
Kid: Oh. Can I watch TV?
And that, my friends, is What I Told the Kid.
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