I hope you read my last post in which I introduced my very first book from Total E-Bound, Hyperpersonal, Hypersexual. Since then, I’ve made some new friends, met some new authors, and written quite a bit!
First, I’d like to thank my fellow writer and erotica connoisseur Lisabet Sarai for suggesting that I share something about where I come from as an author. She graciously published my post a few weeks ago on her blog, Beyond Romance. I’ve adapted the post to share below, as I think many of you will relate:
My name is Genevieve Bergeron, I’m 24 years old, I live in Washington, D.C., and I write erotic romances.
The house I grew up in sat at the dead-end of a tree-lined cul-de-sac in Huntsville, Ala. If there were a more boring, disconnected place, I couldn’t think of one.
Perhaps that ever-present feeling of disconnectedness is why I turned to books at such a young age. I devoured science fiction novels by the dozens, classics, historical fiction, contemporary, nonfiction myth and legend—you name it. This constant stream of mental stimulation made up for an ostensible lack thereof surrounding my childhood home.
The books turned me into one of those children. A precocious child. An insufferable brainiac.
Yet, what’s funny is that I never asked my parents any of the normal questions. Or, more precisely, the normal questions one would expect from an avid science fiction/classics/historical fiction reader. I’m sure my mother and father cursed the Gods—and often—for their luck. Instead of “Daddy, why aren’t there people living on the moon?” there would be “What’s an orgasm?”
I was about six when I asked. He replied calmly (against his better judgment), “Go look it up.” A few minutes later, I stomped back to here he read contentedly. Visibly agitated, I demanded, “What’s coitus?”
I also remember the dinner party a few years later, where I explained proudly to my aunt that my new favorite word was “salacious.” “Do you know ‘salacious’ means?” I asked. (I’ll be honest—I thought it meant “beautiful.”)
“No sweetie,” she said accommodatingly. “But let’s look it up.”
She led me over to a large, oak bookshelf, the kind that was built into the wall, and then hefted a thick, red Merriam-Webster down to the floor so both of us could lean in close and look together. “Lustful. Ooohh my,” she sighed, after having flipped to the right place.
I smiled brightly, clueless as to what “lustful” meant.
Darn those dictionaries for using complicated words—at least I thought they were complicated at the time—to describe what should be down-and-dirty, insanely pleasurable, natural—often animalesque—moments.
When I became an erotica author fifteen years later, it was no surprise. To anyone I know.
My love for erotic words (though, now, there’s little reference to cold, clinical terms like “coitus” and “orgasming” in my books) is limitless, but I tend to focus on erotica with a high-tech twist.
My fascination with technology is a result of my background and (of course) my age. Between 2009 and 2011, I was enrolled in a graduate program at Georgetown University where I earned a Master’s degree in Strategic Communications and New Media technologies. The beauty and complexity of the digital world, to me, is tantalizing (perhaps even hotter than sex!). That’s why, in Hyperpersonal, Hypersexual, I decided to explore a sexual fantasy that springs, not first from physical attraction, but from a complete lack thereof. In fact, the attraction itself exists only in the imagination, at least in a digital world. Makes sense—with online dating, sometimes you’re not even sure what your date is going to look like! It was a challenge: could I write a book about texting and sexting and make it hot? And encourage people to read it? I don’t know. You tell me. After all, as a writer, I'm still a work in progress!
So, tell me—what embarrassing stories do all of you have to share about your beginnings as an erotica author?
Hope to hear from you.