Rules for Writing Erotica—How to Craft Passionate and Compelling Stories

Photo by Rodolfo Clix: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-with-lighted-match-graphic-wallpaper-922511/

Like it or hate it, the novel Fifty Shades of Grey ushered in a more mainstream acceptance of erotic storylines. The genre has become so popular, three German academics conducted a study to understand the trend. They discovered that this genre’s audience generally consists of highly educated, emancipated, feminist, progressive women from a broad age span who cite reasons for embracing the genre as “distraction and feelings of ease.”

Writing erotica can be exciting and rewarding, and it’s a craft that requires sensitivity, skill, and sophistication. Whether you’re new to the genre or looking to refine your technique, understanding the essential rules for writing erotica will help you create stories that captivate and resonate with readers devoted to the genre. 

Why not add to the cannon of this growing and more accepted genre? 

Feeling shy about what your friends and family might think or say if they were to read your erotica? That’s what pen names are for! 

Here are some important guidelines to keep in mind when venturing into the world of writing erotica.

1. Know Your Audience

Erotica is a diverse genre with a wide variety of sub-genres and reader expectations. Some readers enjoy explicit and adventurous scenarios, while others prefer subtle, romantic depictions of love and intimacy. Before you start. your first draft, take the time to:

Research the market—Read works by successful authors in the genre, and if there’s a sub-genre that calls to you, find those, too.

Identify your niche—Decide if your story will focus on contemporary romance, mystery, gothic, LGBTQ+ relationships, or other themes.

Understand tone and style—Know what your audience prefers, whether it’s poetic and sensual or direct and raw, based on the genre you’re working with

Knowing your audience will help guide your choices in word choice, tone, themes, and plot development.

2. Prioritize Consent and Boundaries

Writing erotica means being responsible and consent-focused. In fact, it’s a cornerstone of the genre these days. No matter who the characters are or the intensity of the scenes, all interactions should be consensual. Make it clear that both parties are participating in the events of their own free will and that their boundaries are respected.

Explicit consent—Show characters communicating their desires and limits.

Nonverbal cues—Use body language and reactions to reinforce mutual enthusiasm.

Avoid problematic tropes—Stay away from scenarios that could be interpreted as coercive or non-consensual unless they are explicitly negotiated role-play.

Including clear consent not only adds realism to your work, but it also keeps it ethical. 

3. Create Well-Developed Characters

Erotica is more than a bunch of explicit scenes. Readers need and want to care about the characters in your story before they’re going to care about the intimate scenes you write. Invest time in creating:

Relatable personalities—Give your characters human strengths, flaws, and unique quirks. What are their desires, why do they have them, and how do they go about realizing them?

Genuine connections—Show emotional chemistry alongside physical attraction. Creating connections of substance adds depth to your story and helps readers connect with your characters emotionally.

Distinct motivations—Strive for authentic and grounded personalities in your characters, especially when it comes to their  desires and choices. Always ask yourself: Why does she want that? Why is she behaving this way? 

When your characters are fully realized, their intimate moments will feel more meaningful and compelling.

4. Set the Scene

There’s no “perfect” setting for erotica because, well… Human attraction is human attraction. But… setting plays a crucial role in erotic stories. It can heighten tension and establish mood, and sometimes become like a character itself. Whether your story takes place in a luxurious penthouse, a secluded forest, or a chocolate shop, vivid descriptions will draw readers into your story world.

Atmosphere—Use sensory details to evoke textures, smells, sounds, and sights that enhance the mood. Draw your readers INTO your scenes.

Metaphor and Symbolism—Incorporate elements of the setting that reflect the characters’ emotions or desires. Using metaphor and symbolism will accomplish this with depth and meaning.

Variety—Experiment with different locations to keep your story dynamic and engaging. Allow your characters to lead vibrant lives that take them to settings that further tell your story.

The environment and setting should be an integral part of the story that enhances the characters’ experiences and interactions.

5. Balance Explicitness and Subtlety

Writing erotica is a balancing act. Readers expect a certain level of explicitness, but keep in mind that graphic or mechanical portrayals of love scenes can dilute the story’s emotional impact. Aim for:

Emotion-driven intimacy—Focus on how the characters feel, both emotionally and physically, and let their feelings drive their behaviors.

Varied pacing—Alternate between quiet, sensual moments and more intense, passionate ones. Think of it as an ebb and flow, a rise and fall. Create a rhythm by engaging readers with tension, then ease up to give them a break.

Avoiding clichés—Craft unique language that evokes feelings and sensations in the reader that parallel those of your characters. Use unexpected analogies and metaphors that lend texture to the language and meaning of your story.

Remember, sometimes less is more. Implied or understated moments can be just as powerful as explicit ones.

6. Develop a Compelling Plot

Erotica doesn’t exist in a vacuum. A strong plot provides context for the intimacy and keeps readers invested in the story. Consider:

Conflict and tension—Introduce challenges that the characters must overcome, whether external obstacles or internal struggles. Give your readers a protagonist they can relate to and root for.

Character growth—Show how the characters evolve through their experiences and relationships. Understanding the psychology and backstory of your characters will help you depict their growth.

Subplots—Incorporate secondary storylines to add depth and complexity so long as they don’t detract from the central storyline.

A well-crafted plot ensures that your story remains engaging beyond the intimate scenes.

7. Respect Diversity and Representation

Erotica has the power to explore diverse identities, relationships, and experiences. Writing with inclusivity in mind broadens your audience and enriches your storytelling.

Avoid stereotypes—Create multidimensional characters rather than relying on clichéd or reductive portrayals. 

Research—If you’re writing about identities or cultures outside your own experience, consult authentic sources and rely on sensitivity readers. Contemporary readers are too savvy for easy answers or stereotypical cardboard characters.

Celebrate variety—Explore different body types, genders, sexual orientations, and relationship dynamics. Make your cast of characters as diverse as the people you see around you.

Authentic representation enhances the emotional resonance and relatability of your work. It also builds trust with your audience.

8. Revise and Edit Thoroughly

First drafts are rarely perfect, especially in erotica, where tone, pacing, and language are critical. Take the time to:

Check for consistency—Ensure characters’ actions and emotions align with their established personalities. Again, always ask questions: Would she behave this way? What would she do?

Refine language—Polish descriptions to make them vivid and engaging without being overly flowery or repetitive. 

Seek feedback—Share your work with trusted critique partners or beta readers to identify areas for improvement. Regardless of the genre, it’s always wise to get feedback.

Editing is where your story truly comes to life, so take the time to make your words sing.

9. Know the Rules to Break Them

It’s true that writing rules and guidelines provide a solid foundation for any writer or genre. It’s also true that erotica is a creative genre that thrives on innovation and risk-taking. Once you understand the basics, feel free to:

Experiment with unconventional formats, such as diary entries or epistolary style, or try unique structuring devices or code switching.

Blend genres. Think: mystery, fantasy, or sci-fi.

Subvert tropes and challenge readers’ expectations. Avoid going with the first idea you have. Take the time to explore how to deepen and strengthen your characters to show readers stories they haven’t read before.

Breaking the rules thoughtfully can lead to new, intriguing stories that stand out in the genre.

10. Write with Authenticity and Passion

The most compelling erotica comes from a place of authenticity. Write what excites and inspires you, and your enthusiasm will shine through in your work.

Be fearless—Don’t shy away from exploring bold or taboo themes, as long as they’re handled with care. This is where your best writing will have room to rise to the surface.

Stay true to your voice—Let your unique perspective and style infuse your writing. There’s no one like you in the world, so lean on that when you write.

Enjoy the process—Writing erotica should be as pleasurable and fulfilling as reading it. Have fun!

When you write with genuine passion, your stories will resonate with readers and leave a lasting impression.

Conclusion

Writing erotica is a challenging yet rewarding craft that requires creativity, sensitivity, and skill. By following these rules, you’ll be well-equipped to create stories that are not only passionate and intimate but also meaningful and memorable. So, dive in with an open mind, and don’t be afraid to push boundaries. Your readers are waiting to be captivated by the story worlds you create.

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Ten notable erotica novels that have won the attention of readers with their sensual themes and compelling narratives.

Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James—This novel explores the complex relationship between a college graduate and a young business magnate, and explores themes of dominance and submission.

The Siren by Tiffany Reisz—This book is part of ‘The Original Sinners’ series. It blends romance and intrigue, and introduces readers to an erotica author with a provocative personal life.

Bared to You by Sylvia Day—This story follows two individuals with troubled pasts as they navigate a tumultuous, passionate relationship.

Ice Planet Barbarians by Ruby Dixon—A unique blend of science fiction and erotica, this novel tells the story of a woman abducted by aliens who finds unexpected romance on an icy planet.

The Duke and I by Julia Quinn—The first book in the ‘Bridgerton’ series, this novel combines historical romance with sensual storytelling.

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas—This fantasy novel intertwines erotic romance with a richly built world, perfect for fans of  ‘romantasy.’

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice (as A.N. Roquelaure)—This novel puts an erotic twist on a retelling of the classic fairy tale, and explores themes of power and submission.

Gifting Me to His Best Friend by Katee Robert—Part of the ‘A Touch of Taboo’ series, this novella explores unconventional desires in a consensual setting.

Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence—Thisclassic novel delves into the affair between a young married woman and her gamekeeper, challenging the conventions of the era in which it was written.

Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin—A collection of erotic short stories that explore the complexities of sexual desire and human relationships.

Rules for Writing Romance Novels—How to Create Love Stories That Meet the Genre’s Demands

Photo by Charlotte May: https://www.pexels.com/photo/red-rose-petals-in-glass-of-cognac-5946991/

Ever dreamed of writing a romance novel? 

If you’re an avid reader and a fan of the genre, or if you think it would be a fun way to make a few extra dollars, you’ll need to understand the expectations of romance readers so you can meet this huge, devoted audience where they are and deliver. 

Let’s break down the fundamentals that every romance writer should know.

1. Focus on the Central Love Story

At the heart of every romance novel is a love story, of course. This doesn’t mean you can’t include subplots or delve into the personal growth of your characters, but the romantic relationship should always take center stage. Readers expect to follow the journey of two (or more) characters as they navigate obstacles, discover their feelings, and ultimately find love. If the love story feels secondary to another plot line, you risk losing your audience.

2. Guarantee a Happily Ever After (HEA) or Happy For Now (HFN)

Romance readers expect a satisfying conclusion. (It’s not real life, after all.) The characters don’t necessarily need to get married or ride off into the sunset, but the ending should make it clear that their relationship is solid and that they’re happier together than apart. In contemporary romance, an HFN might involve the couple committing to each other without immediate plans for marriage or children. You can have a tragic ending or unresolved romance in your novel, but that will put it outside the romance genre.

3. Create Compelling, Relatable Characters

Strong characters are essential for a great romance novel. Your protagonists should be multidimensional, with human strengths, flaws, as well as relatable desires and motivations. You want your readers to root for them and see them as real people. Your characters don’t have to be perfect. In fact, imperfections often make them more engaging. What’s important is that their growth and emotional journey feel authentic.

4. Develop Emotional Intensity

Romance thrives on emotion. The story should evoke feelings of joy, heartbreak, passion, and longing in your readers. To accomplish this, delve deep into your characters’ inner lives. What are their fears, desires, and vulnerabilities? How do these play into their relationship? Show readers the highs and lows of falling in love through vivid, emotionally charged scenes.

5. Establish Chemistry Between the Characters

Chemistry is the magic that makes a romance novel unforgettable. It’s not just about physical attraction (though that’s often a component) but also about the connection between your characters. Their interactions should crackle with energy, whether they’re bantering, arguing, or sharing quiet moments. Show their growing bond through dialogue, body language, and small details, like gestures of love.

6. Introduce Conflict and Tension

Obstacles are essential in the romance genre. Conflict creates the tension that keeps readers turning the page. This can be internal (a character’s fear of commitment) or external (a meddling ex, a rivalry that creates jealousy, a family feud, or geographic distance). The key is to ensure that the conflict is believable and rooted in the characters’ lives. Avoid manufactured drama that feels forced or melodramatic.

7. Pace the Relationship Realistically

While romance novels often have a faster pace than real-life relationships, the progression of the romance should still feel natural. Give your characters time to get to know each other and build trust. Even if they’re physically attracted right away, emotional intimacy should develop more gradually. It creates great tension, too.

8. Craft Engaging Dialogue

Great dialogue is essential in a romance novel. It’s through conversations that your characters reveal their personalities, share their vulnerabilities, and build their connection. Aim for dialogue that feels natural but purposeful. Every line should either advance the plot, deepen the relationship, or reveal something about the characters.

9. Show, Don’t Tell

The age-old writing adage most definitely applies here. Instead of telling readers that your characters are in love, show it through their actions, words, and thoughts. For instance, instead of writing, “She loved him,” describe how her heart races when she sees him, how she gets butterflies when she thinks of him, or how she defends him if a family member or friend has doubts about him. By showing the relationship’s progression, and your protagonist’s growing devotion to her love interest, you allow readers to experience the love story firsthand.

10. Choose the Appropriate Setting

While there’s no “right” setting for a romance novel—because love happens everywhere—the setting of your romance novel can greatly enhance the story. Whether it’s a small-town bakery, a bustling city, or a college campus, the setting should contribute to the mood and themes of the novel. Always remember to use sensory details—honor all five senses—to bring the world to life and create opportunities for romantic moments. 

11. Be Mindful of Tropes

Tropes are common themes or plot devices that appear frequently in romance novels, such as “enemies to lovers,” “fake dating,” “forbidden love,” or “love triangle.” While tropes can provide a familiar framework, they can also feel clichéd if not handled thoughtfully. Put your own spin on popular tropes to make them fresh and unique.

12. Balance the Degree of Intimacy and Plot

Romance novels vary widely in their explicit content. Some focus on the sweetness of relationships, while others explore lusty encounters. The level of intimacy should fit the story and characters. No matter the degree of explicitness, scenes in your story should always serve the plot and character development.

13. Understand Your Sub-genre

Romance is a diverse genre with numerous sub-genres, from contemporary, gothic, paranormal, and romantic suspense to historical, time travel, LGBTQ+, and more. Each sub-genre comes with its own conventions and reader expectations. For example, a historical romance would likely require meticulous research for historical accuracy, while a paranormal romance might demand an otherworldly, imaginative approach.

14. Edit Ruthlessly

First drafts are rarely perfect, so get comfortable with that truth. Think of the first draft as you telling yourself the story. Then, take the time to revise and polish your manuscript’s second draft (and third and fourth, if necessary). Look for inconsistencies in character behavior, plot holes, and areas where the pacing drags. Pay special attention to emotional beats and dialogue so they resonate. Consider seeking feedback from beta readers or critique partners who are familiar with the romance genre.

15. Respect Your Audience

Romance readers are devoted and discerning. They know what they like and expect stories that deliver on the genre’s promises. Avoid stereotypes, clichés, or outdated attitudes and beliefs that might alienate your audience. Instead, focus on creating inclusive, respectful, and emotionally engaging stories that celebrate love in all its forms.

Conclusion

Writing a romance novel is about more than just crafting a love story. It’s about creating an emotional journey that readers can’t put down. By following these rules and infusing your unique voice and creativity, you can craft a romance novel that resonates with readers and leaves them swooning. Remember, the heart of a great romance is authenticity, so let your characters and their love story come through.

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10 Romance Novels Across Sub-Genres

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – A classic Regency romance featuring the iconic love story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon – A time-travel romance blending history, adventure, and passion between Claire Randall and Jamie Fraser.

The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks – A contemporary tearjerker about a lifelong love affair.

Bridgerton: The Duke and I by Julia Quinn – The first book in the Bridgerton series, full of regency romance and witty banter.

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes – A heartfelt, bittersweet romance between Louisa Clark and Will Traynor.

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne – A fun enemies-to-lovers workplace romance.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston – A modern queer romance featuring the son of the U.S. president and a British prince.

Seven Days in June by Tia Williams—A beautifully written, emotionally intense romance about two authors who had a passionate affair as teens and reconnect years later. 

The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion – A quirky romance featuring a genetics professor’s unconventional search for love.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell – A young adult romance about first love and the struggles that come with it.

______________________________________

Do you read or write romance? If so, what sub-genre is your favorite?

Sending you mad writing mojo…

Happy writing!

Overcoming Writer’s Fear: A Writing Exercise

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

“Writer’s block” is a widely embraced ideology, not just in writing circles, but in time-honored narratives around the writing process. We don’t hear about painter’s block or composer’s block or dancer’s block. While painters, composers, and dancers may, indeed, experience periods of time when the flow of their work is more challenging than usual or when it comes to a halt, writers are the only creative demographic that get a name for this struggle.

Writer’s block, I acknowledge, may be a legitimate experience for some writers (Psychologist Edmund Bergler said it has something to do with blocked emotions, but more about that in a future post). Lately, I’ve been thinking that writer’s fear is a more appropriate word for the thing that stops many writers from writing. Or from writing freely and honestly.

Fear of what they don’t yet know—the subconscious can be a scary place until we make friends with it, and rooting around in one’s own darkness can unveil all kinds of startling discoveries.

Fear of what they already know—we’re indoctrinated at a very young age to fall in line with cultural norms. When we don’t, shame is a significant detractor in being true to ourselves.

Fear of what others will think—our need to be accepted and not abandoned is an inherent human need.

I had a conversation with a group of writers the other day about feeling that tug of holding back when writing, thinking about what other people—family members, in particular—will think.

Not wanting to make waves and jeopardize our connection with our Tribe—our connection with the people who gave us life and/or shaped us: parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—is understandable. Our history can feel like a lifeline, and our culture tells us these blood ties should be maintained at all costs.

But I disagree.

Virginia Woolf wrote about the angel in the house in her paper, “Professions For Women.” According to Woolf, the angel was the voice of society that sits on the shoulder of every female writer with its great white wings and whispers in her ear about what is acceptable and not acceptable for a woman to express on paper. She wrote about killing her angel by clocking it in the head with her ink well.

Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

One of the first things I do when I work with clients and students is ask them to write a letter to their angel—or angels (some of us have many). The purpose of this letter is to create a story that allows for the killing of the angels so the writer is free to move forward with her writing project, unfettered of the ignorant, uninformed, narcissistic yammerings of the voices inside her head, which usually belong to the writer’s culture and/or family.

I can tell you from experience that doing this exercise will piss you off and getting pissed is essential to not caring, a skill all creative people, and maybe especially writers, must acquire.

“Why get pissed?” you might ask.

Every time someone reacts to your words, every time someone whines or shames or cries or yells at you for what you’ve written or what you’re in the process of writing, it is an attempt to silence you. They may not see it that way, but it is.

And if that doesn’t royally piss you off, it should. It should offend you. It should rile you. It should make you want to come out punching and jabbing, metaphorically, of course. And what better way to punch and jab at the world and its attempts to keep you in its tidy little box—so no one has to feel uncomfortable, so no one has to encounter a truth other than their own—than to use your exquisite voice?

Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash

This isn’t easy, especially when we love the people who react to our work. If a stranger calls me out on my content, I really don’t care. If someone I love calls me out on my content, I still don’t care (which is different from not caring about the person), but there’s the complicated tug of knowing someone I care about isn’t able to take in my work, isn’t able to celebrate the thing that means the most to me. Ultimately, it means that they aren’t able to see me.

It’s a shame, to be sure. But hear me now, dear writer. We are not here to pet the boo boos of others. We are not here to hide ourselves so other people can maintain the comfy little personal world they’ve created for themselves. We are here to utilize the gift we were born with—to use words to make meaning of life, and in doing so, to make the world a little bit better.

A family member once accused me of “making fun” of our family. The piece they referred to was actually doing the opposite—honoring what I come from and realizing that, despite my attempts to “rise up” and out of the blue-collar existence, I had, in that moment, come full circle and found myself square in it: cleaning houses for a living with four college degrees. Oh, the irony.

A friend once wrote to me and said, “I’m worried about you,” when she read a blog post I wrote that discussed the certainty of death. How gauche of me.

And I’ve had family members experience anxiety when they believed my stories hit too close to home, when they believed they recognized themselves or other family members in the writing.

As Ann Lamott once wrote, “If people wanted you to write warmly of them, they should have behaved better.” AMEN.

Part of this problem comes from non-writers not understanding how a writer’s mind works, how the creative process—specific to writing—works. They don’t understand the spark that may, in fact, come from a lived experience can morph into a fictional story about a fictional character who is not the writer or the writer’s child or partner or ex-partner or parent or whomever the hell. They don’t understand that while we may—oftentimes, subconsciously—model characters after real-life people, we’re not writing about the actual people. We’re likely making sense of our lived experience that could, possibly, include someone else’s stupid bullshit behavior.

A friend, also a writer, once told me a story about a writer friend of hers who published her first novel. She was nervous about her mother seeing herself in the shrewish mother in the story. When her mother read the novel, she did see herself… but not in the mother. She saw herself in the kind and loving aunt. So, it seems that people will see themselves in our work the way they see—or what to see—themselves in life. They will feel exposed by our work no matter what we do. Bottom line: We’re all narcissists to some degree. Some people want to put themselves at the center of our world. They can’t imagine this not being so.

Not all resistance is to our writing is about perceived exposure, though. Sometimes, it’s because we’re touting beliefs that run counter to what we were taught. In my mind, this is very simply, a phase of growing up. Of individuating.

When I teach my Writing Through the Body™ workshops and we discuss the traits and expressions of the Root Chakra, we talk about how sometimes the Tribe doesn’t have the capacity to allow the individuals within it to transform into their own unique persona. Sometimes, this requires breaking from the Tribe in some way.

In the workshops, we’re applying these traits and expressions to characters, but they apply to us as well. (In fact, they applied to us first.)

The truth is: people will do what they do, and they’ll think what they think. Our job is to mine the narratives of our lived experience to make meaning of the human condition. Nobody said it would always be pretty. Nobody said it would always be fun. But one guarantee is that when we have the courage to step out of the tiny, suffocating box our culture and our family has constructed for us, when we have the courage to set our bizarre, ghastly, taboo, crazy, kinky, beautiful thoughts free, they have a chance to find connection with other people who have the same bizarre, ghastly, taboo, crazy, kinky, beautiful thoughts, we find our people. Because it’s very possible that the people who brought us up, who shaped our identities are not, in the end, our people.

If you’re faced with the fear of offending family, making someone mad, or hurting someone’s feelings, try this letter writing exercise.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash
  • Write a letter (BY HAND) to each voice.
  • Give the voice a name and a shape. (If you can put a live person to the voice, use them, or if, after reading the rest of the exercise below, you aren’t comfortable doing that, make up a name and give it a shape. It can be anything.)
  • Describe to the voice what it says that stops you.
  • Tell the voice how this affects you.
  • Tell the voice what it takes from you.
  • Tell the voice why you won’t allow it to stop you anymore.
  • Tell the voice what you’re going to do to stop it.
  • Write, in great detail, a descriptive passage of you squelching the voice—killing the angel in the house. Be as graphic as you like. No one will see this but you.
  • Finish with an “after you’re gone” passage. What will your writing life look like moving forward?

Give a try and let me know in the comments how much weight you shed. I’m pulling for you, creative soul.

I’m off now to write something that will bring discomfort to someone, somewhere.

As always, sending you mad writing mojo…

Happy writing!

Johnnie

XOXOX

Overcoming Writer’s Fear: A Writing Exercise

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

“Writer’s block” is a widely embraced ideology, not just in writing circles, but in time-honored narratives around the writing process. We don’t hear about painter’s block or composer’s block or dancer’s block. While painters, composers, and dancers may, indeed, experience periods of time when the flow of their work is more challenging than usual or when it comes to a halt, writers are the only creative demographic that get a name for this struggle.

Writer’s block, I acknowledge, may be a legitimate experience for some writers (Psychologist Edmund Bergler said it has something to do with blocked emotions, but more about that in a future post). Lately, I’ve been thinking that writer’s fear is a more appropriate word for the thing that stops many writers from writing. Or from writing freely and honestly.

Fear of what they don’t yet know—the subconscious can be a scary place until we make friends with it, and rooting around in one’s own darkness can unveil all kinds of startling discoveries.

Fear of what they already know—we’re indoctrinated at a very young age to fall in line with cultural norms. When we don’t shame is a significant detractor in being true to ourselves.

Fear of what others will think—our need to be accepted and not abandoned is an inherent human need.

I had a conversation with a group of writers the other day about feeling that tug of holding back when writing, thinking about what other people—family members, in particular—will think.

Not wanting to make waves and jeopardize our connection with our Tribe—our connection with the people who gave us life and shaped us: parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—is understandable. Our history can feel like a lifeline, and our culture tells us these blood ties should be maintained at all costs.

But I disagree.

Virginia Woolf wrote about the angel in the house in her paper, “Professions For Women.” According to Woolf, the angel was the voice of society that sits on the shoulder of every female writer with its great white wings and whispers in her ear about what was acceptable and not acceptable for a woman to express on paper. She wrote about killing her angel by clocking it in the head with her ink well.

Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

One of the first things I do when I work with clients and students is ask them to write a letter to their angel—or angels (some of us have many). The purpose of this letter is to create a story that allows for the killing of the angels so the writer is free to move forward with her writing project, unfettered of the ignorant, uninformed, narcissistic yammerings of the voices inside her head, which usually belong to the writer’s culture and/or family.

I can tell you from experience that doing this exercise will piss you off and getting pissed is essential to not caring, a skill all creative people, and maybe especially writers, must acquire.

“Why get pissed?” you might ask.

Every time someone reacts to your words, every time someone whines or shames or cries or yells at you for what you’ve written or what you’re in the process of writing, it is an attempt to silence you. They may not see it that way, but it is.

And if that doesn’t royally piss you off, it should. It should offend you. It should rile you. It should make you want to come out punching and jabbing, metaphorically, of course. And what better way to punch and jab at the world and its attempts to keep you in its tidy little box—so no one has to feel uncomfortable, so no one has to encounter a truth other than their own—than to use your exquisite voice?

Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash

This isn’t easy, especially when we love the people who react to our work. If a stranger calls me out on my content, I really don’t care. If someone I love calls me out on my content, I still don’t care (which is different from not caring about the person), but there’s the complicated tug of knowing someone I care about isn’t able to take in my work, isn’t able to celebrate the thing that means the most to me. Ultimately, it means that they aren’t able to see me.

It’s a shame, to be sure. But hear me now, dear writer. We are not here to pet the boo boos of others. We are not here to hide ourselves so other people can maintain the comfy little personal world they’ve created for themselves. We are here to utilize the gift we were born with—to use words to make meaning of life, and in doing so, to make the world a little bit better.

A family member once accused me of “making fun” of our family. The piece they referred to was actually doing the opposite—honoring what I come from and realizing that, despite my attempts to “rise up” and out of the blue-collar existence, I had, in that moment, come full circle and found myself square in it: cleaning houses for a living with four college degrees. Oh, the irony.

A friend once wrote to me and said, “I’m worried about you,” when she read a blog post I wrote that discussed the certainty of death. How gauche of me.

And I’ve had family members experience anxiety when they believed my stories hit too close to home, when they believed they recognized themselves or other family members in the writing.

As Ann Lamott once wrote, “If people wanted you to write warmly of them, they should have behaved better.” AMEN.

Part of this problem comes from non-writers not understanding how a writer’s mind works, how the creative process—specific to writing—works. They don’t understand the spark that may, in fact, come from a lived experience can morph into a fictional story about a fictional character who is not the writer or the writer’s child or partner or ex-partner or parent or whomever the hell. They don’t understand that while we may—oftentimes, subconsciously—model characters after real-life people, we’re not writing about the actual people. We’re likely making sense of our lived experience that could, possibly, include someone else’s stupid bullshit behavior.

A friend, also a writer, once told me a story about a writer friend of hers who published her first novel. She was nervous about her mother seeing herself in the shrewish mother in the story. When her mother read the novel, she did see herself… but not in the mother. She saw herself in the kind and loving aunt. So, it seems that people will see themselves in our work the way they see—or what to see—themselves in life. They will feel exposed by our work no matter what we do. Bottom line: We’re all narcissists to some degree. Some people want to put themselves at the center of our world. They can’t imagine this not being so.

Not all resistance is to our writing is about perceived exposure, though. Sometimes, it’s because we’re touting beliefs that run counter to what we were taught. In my mind, this is very simply, a phase of growing up. Of individuating.

When I teach my Writing Through the Body™ workshops and we discuss the traits and expressions of the Root Chakra, we talk about how sometimes the Tribe doesn’t have the capacity to allow the individuals within it to transform into their own unique persona. Sometimes, this requires breaking from the Tribe in some way.

In the workshops, we’re applying these traits and expressions to characters, but they apply to us as well. (In fact, they applied to us first.)

The truth is: people will do what they do, and they’ll think what they think. Our job is to mine the narratives of our lived experience to make meaning of the human condition. Nobody said it would always be pretty. Nobody said it would always be fun. But one guarantee is that when we have the courage to step out of the tiny, suffocating box our culture and our family has constructed for us, when we have the courage to set our bizarre, ghastly, taboo, crazy, kinky, beautiful thoughts free, they have a chance to find connection with other people who have the same bizarre, ghastly, taboo, crazy, kinky, beautiful thoughts, we find our people. Because it’s very possible that the people who brought us up, who shaped our identities are not, in the end, our people.

If you’re faced with the fear of offending family, making someone mad, or hurting someone’s feelings, try this letter writing exercise.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash
  • Write a letter (BY HAND) to each voice.
  • Give the voice a name and a shape. (If you can put a live person to the voice, use them, or if, after reading the rest of the exercise below, you aren’t comfortable doing that, make up a name and give it a shape. It can be anything.)
  • Describe to the voice what it says that stops you.
  • Tell the voice how this affects you.
  • Tell the voice what it takes from you.
  • Tell the voice why you won’t allow it to stop you anymore.
  • Tell the voice what you’re going to do to stop it.
  • Write, in great detail, a descriptive passage of you squelching the voice—killing the angel in the house. Be as graphic as you like. No one will see this but you.
  • Finish with a “now that you’re gone” passage. What will your writing life look like moving forward?

Give a try and let me know in the comments how much weight you shed. I’m pulling for you, creative soul.

I’m off now to write something that will bring discomfort to someone, somewhere.

As always, sending you mad writing mojo…

Happy writing!

Johnnie

XOXOX