Easily one of the weirdest things in relation to my erotica-writing happened to me this past week – a friend of mine found my work.
They obviously didn’t know it was me – my name isn’t Adam Watson or anything. I’m dumb, but I’m not so dumb that I’d leave obvious hints in my stories that I of all people wrote them. I happened to be talking about porn consumption with a friend and I talked about how I don’t watch porn (a personal preference of mine) and talked about erotica. Then the friend talked about their history with reading erotica and the name Bashful Scribe came up. I wanted to make a sitcom moment and ask about him then conclude with a, ‘Enh, sounds like his works wouldn’t be for me,’ but I restrained myself and just responded with indifference, and let the conversation move on.
I wonder from time to time what my friends would think if they knew about my writing and the fact that I wrote it. Given the themes I put in my stories, sexual or non, they’d probably be at least concerned. It’s one thing to, say, both like the same erotica writer. It’s another to discover that your friend writes sex stories. It’s another to discover they also regularly include themes like loss, grief, and non-consensual sex. I don’t think I’m a bad person (although that’s not really up to me to decide) but a lot of my work can be taken out of context, misinterpreted, misquoted, etc.
I suppose the fact that I was discovered by a friend independently of me sending my work to them should be flattering. Maybe I am going places and reaching people with my work. Largely this is more of a shock than a pleasure to me, specifically because it feels like every day my real-life self and the persona of Bashful Scribe are coming closer together in the public eye. Inch by inch, they move closer. They haven’t met, but maybe I need to accept the possibility they may someday, and people will know that Being More Social was written by <insert name here> instead of Bashful Scribe.
Enh, whatever. The future will happen no matter what. The best thing I can do is do my part to shape it and make it as great for myself and those around me. No matter what happens, I’ll still keep on writing, and living, so I guess that’s something, right? For now, while I still have my anonymity, I’ll say it was weird hearing my pen name told to me by someone who had no clue that person was me. Again, it was like a moment out of a sitcom. But it wasn’t all creepy – it had a nice ‘you’ve made it somewhere’ edge to it, and for now, I should hold on to that feeling. I’ll talk to you all next week.