Hi all,
Let me start with a little background. For years I've been writing erotic fiction for myself. I don't know how much I get off on it, actually. I just like sex and I like to fantasize about sex and when I fantasize about sex, Poof!, I've forgotten that asshole at work who doesn't understand how much more valid my ideas are than his.
This eventually got overly problematic because I would start obsessing a fantasy, it would clutter my mind. So, I started writing it down. It cleared my mind, I created the next fantasy cause, goddammit, Harold, I'm right! Ten+ years (I dunno, this is laptop #3) pass and I'm about 1000+ pages into what, if it had been about socially acceptable stuff, could have been a trilogy. A hack trilogy, no doubt, but better than the work of that dude I know who self-published. I have like fifty characters and I've run out of ideas. It also doesn't meet criteria for this website.
So, I start a couple of new stories, and expand on them as is my habit. All this time, I check in to this site to read a couple of things in my area of kink. Y'know, occasinally.
One day, I'm, like, I should publish on literotica. That would be hot, like an exhibitionist thing. I go through the FAQ's meticulously to make certain I know what I'm doing because, gods know, I am totally in the closet about writing erotic fiction (my partner knows and occasionally gets to read it but, nevermind).
I choose a suitable chapter, form at it (hmm, need to have actual line breaks between paragraphs) and hit the publish button. I wonder how many people will read it and get around to checking on it. HOLY FUCK! Ten thousand people read my story! And, shit, they have me in the 4.2 range. I am a literary genius! Seriously, It was quite the rush and, I have to admit, I did not expect this. I thought it would be a lark, that I would be cool, not care. Suddenly, I'm checking my phone twice a day for numbers, updates on my readership, my score, and, sweet gold, comments.
Well, hold on kiddos, daddy's got a shitload more where that came from! Maybe I could adapt my original big story? Nah, won't work. Still, I have, what, 20, 30 chapters hanging around. I publish another, one of my newer chapters. It gets a 'H' rating! Oh, gods, I'm truly amazing! I should write a book about, um, something, um, something besides sex. Maybe I won't be able to quit my job but at least I won't need to self-publish; I'll get a real publisher.
First, I need to give my adoring fans another morsel of WHAT THEY CRAVE! Which is my writing! I should tell the moderator to fast track this one! Where's the button that tells them I'm the gods' gift to erotic fiction? Don't they already know? I drop another chapter; will this one surpass my previous hot one?. I barely sleep and, as is my habit, grab my phone almost before my glasses the next morning. But, instead of my usual doom scrolling, I go straight to my works section. 3.88???? WHAT THE EVERLASTING FUCK? What did I do wrong? Did I have the wrong tags? Was it too short? Did I miss the mark of the appropriate level of kink? There's some bisexual stuff; does that turn people off? Won't somebody comment on it and tell me what I did wrong?
I know what they want, I know what they want. They want more of this thing in my mind. I start steaming and hammer out a quick story and, hardly edited, drop it in. Maybe this will work better. UNDER 4? (It's been published for like an hour at this time. Luckily, I'm checking my "Works" dashboard every fucking hour so I don't miss it.) Useful comments come in. "Dude, it's rushed." That's true. I rushed it. I wanted that sweet shot of endorphins from seeing that level 4 rating. I really wanted another "H." Calm down. Longer, better edited, different category. How many people read this category? That one? Maybe one of the tags brought in a bunch of haters from another category. I need to edit that other one, warn them that it might not meet their expectations, so they can drift past instead of dropping my rating. TWO WEEKS FOR AN EDIT?! Okay, be cool, be cool. I'm sitting on over 150 pages of usable stuff. Maybe I need to develop the characters better. More detail? Like, just draw it out? Make it more realistic? Do I have the camera angle right? More metaphors? Less metaphors?
I pull up two more chapters. I edit them TWICE for content, separated by a couple of days so I can get a fresh perspective. While my hand did shake, I did not have an actual panic attack when I submitted them. Now I await my fate. I should wait a day to see if they've been published. That's what a sane person would do instead of, y'know, having a browser window open to my works dashboard on every fucking device I own.
So, um, how do the rest of you handle these feelings?
Let me start with a little background. For years I've been writing erotic fiction for myself. I don't know how much I get off on it, actually. I just like sex and I like to fantasize about sex and when I fantasize about sex, Poof!, I've forgotten that asshole at work who doesn't understand how much more valid my ideas are than his.
This eventually got overly problematic because I would start obsessing a fantasy, it would clutter my mind. So, I started writing it down. It cleared my mind, I created the next fantasy cause, goddammit, Harold, I'm right! Ten+ years (I dunno, this is laptop #3) pass and I'm about 1000+ pages into what, if it had been about socially acceptable stuff, could have been a trilogy. A hack trilogy, no doubt, but better than the work of that dude I know who self-published. I have like fifty characters and I've run out of ideas. It also doesn't meet criteria for this website.
So, I start a couple of new stories, and expand on them as is my habit. All this time, I check in to this site to read a couple of things in my area of kink. Y'know, occasinally.
One day, I'm, like, I should publish on literotica. That would be hot, like an exhibitionist thing. I go through the FAQ's meticulously to make certain I know what I'm doing because, gods know, I am totally in the closet about writing erotic fiction (my partner knows and occasionally gets to read it but, nevermind).
I choose a suitable chapter, form at it (hmm, need to have actual line breaks between paragraphs) and hit the publish button. I wonder how many people will read it and get around to checking on it. HOLY FUCK! Ten thousand people read my story! And, shit, they have me in the 4.2 range. I am a literary genius! Seriously, It was quite the rush and, I have to admit, I did not expect this. I thought it would be a lark, that I would be cool, not care. Suddenly, I'm checking my phone twice a day for numbers, updates on my readership, my score, and, sweet gold, comments.
Well, hold on kiddos, daddy's got a shitload more where that came from! Maybe I could adapt my original big story? Nah, won't work. Still, I have, what, 20, 30 chapters hanging around. I publish another, one of my newer chapters. It gets a 'H' rating! Oh, gods, I'm truly amazing! I should write a book about, um, something, um, something besides sex. Maybe I won't be able to quit my job but at least I won't need to self-publish; I'll get a real publisher.
First, I need to give my adoring fans another morsel of WHAT THEY CRAVE! Which is my writing! I should tell the moderator to fast track this one! Where's the button that tells them I'm the gods' gift to erotic fiction? Don't they already know? I drop another chapter; will this one surpass my previous hot one?. I barely sleep and, as is my habit, grab my phone almost before my glasses the next morning. But, instead of my usual doom scrolling, I go straight to my works section. 3.88???? WHAT THE EVERLASTING FUCK? What did I do wrong? Did I have the wrong tags? Was it too short? Did I miss the mark of the appropriate level of kink? There's some bisexual stuff; does that turn people off? Won't somebody comment on it and tell me what I did wrong?
I know what they want, I know what they want. They want more of this thing in my mind. I start steaming and hammer out a quick story and, hardly edited, drop it in. Maybe this will work better. UNDER 4? (It's been published for like an hour at this time. Luckily, I'm checking my "Works" dashboard every fucking hour so I don't miss it.) Useful comments come in. "Dude, it's rushed." That's true. I rushed it. I wanted that sweet shot of endorphins from seeing that level 4 rating. I really wanted another "H." Calm down. Longer, better edited, different category. How many people read this category? That one? Maybe one of the tags brought in a bunch of haters from another category. I need to edit that other one, warn them that it might not meet their expectations, so they can drift past instead of dropping my rating. TWO WEEKS FOR AN EDIT?! Okay, be cool, be cool. I'm sitting on over 150 pages of usable stuff. Maybe I need to develop the characters better. More detail? Like, just draw it out? Make it more realistic? Do I have the camera angle right? More metaphors? Less metaphors?
I pull up two more chapters. I edit them TWICE for content, separated by a couple of days so I can get a fresh perspective. While my hand did shake, I did not have an actual panic attack when I submitted them. Now I await my fate. I should wait a day to see if they've been published. That's what a sane person would do instead of, y'know, having a browser window open to my works dashboard on every fucking device I own.
So, um, how do the rest of you handle these feelings?
