My Name is Janet Eckford

By: Janet Eckford

I was asked to write on my life as a creator of titillating prose and really had to think about what I wanted to say. I’m sure all you highbrow connoisseurs of the written word are rolling your eyes at what you assume will possibly be a lengthy diatribe on the finer merits of the Romance Genre. Well, this isn’t that because I’m not that person, I write Erotic Romance for God’s sake. I want it fast, fun and good for everybody at the end. Instead what I’m going to do is open up about two of my favorite subjects, sex and death. I could go into a lengthy introduction into what I’m going to discuss and draw out some
witty comparisons of sex and death, but I’m not. I’m all about just getting to the good parts because sometimes in life, foreplay can be a bit overrated.

Confession #1Sex
Okay, I write Erotic Romance so a confession about sex should be a given, right? Well wrong, so get your mind out of the gutter you naughty little minx and pay attention. I may write about sex, I even talk about it quite a bit, in public, often loudly, but when someone asks me how much sex is in one of my stories I freeze. I liken it to when you are discussing sexual partners with someone and they ask, “So how many people have you been with?” I have these conversations fairly regularly and not because I’m cruising for sexual partners, but because I talk about sex quite a bit, in public, often loudly, more often than not in a bar. It’s like an occupational hazard of being me, and each time I struggle with what to say.

Firstly, because I’m not sleeping with the person and a number is only appropriate when cross checking for possible STDs. Secondly, there really is no right answer to this. “Shit, well…um quite a bit,” or “Shit, well…um not that many,” either way you’re screwed (yeah I’m going to use cheap attempts at double entendre through this whole thing, remember, I write Erotic Romance) because this is your perception of the event. In the end I always give a cheeky smile and just say enough.

What I’ve found when conversing with fans (yeah that’s right, I got some) is enough just doesn’t cut it and I’ve got all this performance anxiety when I write now. Do I need another penetration scene because having the hero go down on the heroine may not just cut it? Damn, what is another way I can describe someone getting fingered because I did that twenty pages back and I don’t want it to seem like I’m getting lazy. I get so wound up that I sometimes think I should just write “sweet” romance where the fade to black is enough for most. Yet, as with most obstacles I face in life I gird my loins and get right
back into the thick of things (okay I guess that was a pretty over the top metaphor, even for me). Sex is sex and at some point I’m going to give just enough for the right person and those that feel that I’ve got too much or too little, well, they can get it elsewhere.

Confession #2Death

I really like killing people. Not literally of course because that would be crazy…snort…and I have this lovely little master’s degree that has taught me all about crazy. Granted when I was a little girl I would lure Black Widow spiders out of their hiding place in my parents garage, drop them in old motor oil and set them on fire, which totally sounds like future serial killer stuff, but what kept me firmly on the other side of not crazy was puppies and kittens. Not dissecting and burying them in my parents backyard, because that would be crazy, no, their fuzzy little bellies and cute little baby yawns…gah…when they try not to fall asleep and do anyway, so cute, just so freaking cute. Setting spiders on fire, plus loving puppies and kittens, equals possibly demented but definitely not crazy. But I digress.

Back to the topic at hand, killing people. Killing people is hard to work into an Erotic Romance though, because people really want hot sex, minimal death and happy endings, but I really think I could make it good for them. Isn’t there something sexy about the macabre? There is the titillation (snort) that comes with coasting along the very edge of danger and wondering if you will pull yourself back in time.

Now imagine if that edge is pumping a six gage full of lead into a particularly nasty villain and having celebratory sex in their racy sports car you and the (insert hero/heroine of choice) confiscated as you fled the scene of the crime. There would be black leather and…oh yeah a sword. Someone has to have a sword and…um…did I say black leather already? Anyhoo, take my word for it; killing people can be really sexy and if you give me a chance I know you’ll like it.

If you are at all intrigued by my ramblings and what to see what proper editing and someone to tell me, “Um, I think that is too much” looks like, check out my work at Mocha Memoirs Press. There is definately sex and though I haven’t killed anyone yet, just give me time…in a literary way because putting in writing an attempt to harm someone in real life would be crazy and…snort…I’m so not crazy.