If there is one thing I like, it's convenience. For that reason I’ve been a big fan of PayPal. I love not having to get off my ass and fish my credit card out of my purse when I’ve scored some new something I didn’t know I needed until it ended up seducing me from my LCD screen. I totally dig the idea of not having to go through all that trouble to write a check, and god forbid, mail the damn thing to someone when we’re going halves on a weekend excursion. I’ve been more than grateful to have a record of my incoming and outgoing transactions at my fingertips. BUT, none of that is better than the convenience of reaching over and reading what ever the hell I feel like without someone else’s opinion getting in my way.
When someone asks me why I write erotica, the first answer that comes to mind is why not? But to put a finer point on it, writers mostly write with the intent to connect with their reader, to draw a reaction from them, to open their mind and leave a lasting impression. There isn’t a genre that does all of that in a more visceral way. And in pursuit of these goals, should an author of erotica choose to indulge the topics that PayPal deems obscene, are we to simply dismiss their censorship as a loss of convenience? This is a loss of our rights.
As a teenager a certain author captured my attention like none before. V.C. Andrews introduced me to the idea that sometimes things happen in our human existence that are alarming and alluring for that very reason. I didn’t suddenly want to do my brother. I wanted to discover the secrets to writing such gripping plotlines that dared to stretch my imagination away from safe suburbia. Ms. Andrews had a hankering for incest in her plots. I had fascination for the idea of crafting such a taboo into something palatable. In Flowers in the Attic she managed somehow to make it even seem beautiful. Incredible.
V.C. Andrews’ Flowers in the Attic remains a classic among teenage girls. It isn’t erotica—not by a long shot. But it’s best selling status clearly illustrates that plenty of people are interested in reading about incest. Fiction is the place to explore, to peek behind the curtains you would probably never want to draw open in reality. I won’t apologize for liking V.C. Andrews. I can only hope to weave a tail as craftily around such a challenging subject. According to PayPal, her books aren’t worth the money they can skim from the Ebay auction you might score an old copy from. Are they really that uptight? As of now the number or book retailers suffering their sudden need to dictate what the world should read is growing, fast. Shame on you PayPal. Where do you get off?
And don’t even get me started with the 100 year old classic, The Blue Lagoon ...