Horrified, Repulsed, and Turned On: The Appeal of the Erotic and Grotesque
The Books Along the Teche book fair was slow, but fun. There’s nothing better than being around book people.
I got only two looks of repulsion from passers-by. That’s pretty good for an all-genre festival! That number was exponentially higher at the Louisiana Book Festival, but the positive interactions always outweigh the little negative ones.
Most people look at the covers, wrinkle their noses, look at me like I’m a weirdo (valid), and say, “Oh, horror! My goodness!”
Okay, sure, but I’d say most of what I write is transgressive, gothic, erotic, or offbeat. However, as humans, we’re obsessed with compartmentalizing things. And as a former cataloger, I understand the appeal. If it’s dark or if it addresses any kind of taboo, put it all under horror. If a character experiences any sort of sensual pleasure, put it on the naughty list.
No matter how it’s categorized, though, what I write usually puts most people off.
Earlier in my writing career, I wrote smut, because that’s what paid the most, and why not? It was a lot of fun. Later, I wrote erotic horror, something I enjoyed even more because it was more in line with the stuff I liked to read–not entirely so, but close enough. That also paid pretty well. Even though it was mostly about zombies, even George Romero got some cultural and societal messages across with his films.
Second Skin is my most authentic writing, and it’s not exactly horror, it still achieves the same thing I seek when I write erotica or dark fiction: it’s a way to achieve a rush, push boundaries and learn about my own fears, and gain a sense of accomplishment by overcoming those fears. I wrote Second Skin after I broke up with my ex and moved away from Los Angeles. I had an underlying sense the whole time I was with this person who wasn’t right for me, and Los Angeles wasn’t the place for me, either: I felt like I had to put on a mask to make it through most interactions I had there.
Dark fiction has always been a way for me to process my emotions.
We could say the same about erotica: reading or writing it helps us achieve self-actualization. We gain a better understanding of our likes and dislikes through the filter of the screen or a page. As demisexual and sapiosexual, eroticism is very cerebral to me, and any physical intimacy that I wasn’t in complete control of was always intimidating. Therefore, erotica became a safe space to explore those facets of my mind.
Both horror and erotica are safe genres where one can explore the taboo to overcome things that make us uncomfortable. I relate heavily to being drawn to these genres to overcome fear: fear of the unknown, fear of intimacy, and fear of closeness to another human being.
There’s some research that shows sensation-seekers and those open to new experiences are more drawn to horror. Empaths are more likely to react negatively to events in horror, too.
This resonates. I often cry, have to cover my eyes, or cover my ears if a scene is too distressing in a movie, though I rarely watch horror movies. The same is true during an intense scene in a book. Books are the safest space to process my emotions since it’s often done in private. People don’t watch you read and you usually get to do it at home. Often, we store trauma in the body. I often look for ways to release it easily. Music works well (sad stuff like Chelsea Wolfe or Them Are Us Too), but books are best.
My attraction to the erotic and grotesque isn't unique among trauma survivors. Engaging with this material helps us maintain a sense of control and confidence to handle similar "dangers" in real life. We can still get a rush from a good creep-out if we feel good about controlling and overcoming the dangers.
Fear guides me to an extent. I’m not so much seeking to overcome it, but I let it remind me of a life I don’t want. I want to be curious about the things that repulse or horrify me. I want to know why something turns me on. I’m revolted by the idea of conformity, which to me, means passively accepting the round dull way of life and questioning nothing, a mindless consumer zombie in a George Romero film (though hopefully not in a mall–I hate malls!).
Fear is always going to be present. I welcome it because it tests me for weak spots. It tells me what I need to work on. It presents new challenges.
Writing erotica and dark fiction is also a way to purge my thoughts. Without it, I feel like my emotions get stuck in my body and if they’re not released, I have strange dreams. Just the other night, I experienced a recurring dream where a motorcycle gang roars through my father’s property, invading our privacy and creating havoc until we have to threaten them to leave. I have it every time I let my boundaries slip and don’t express my need for alone time.
Maybe some of these repulsed passers-by would gain something by reading horror. But then again, maybe it’s better that they stay bothered–and far away. If you’re reading this, if you’ve read any of my work or anything dark by another dark fiction writer…well, cheers to you, fellow weirdo.


I haven't read all your work, but I've loved what I have read.