I wrote a porn. And it's going to be published. We all have our talents, I suppose.
I wrote my pornstory, did my research, found publishers, put together my submission packets, was accepted by one, e-met my editor, and signed a contract. (Now we're editing. Hooray!) Then it was time for the fun part - telling people!
My e-friends knew I was writing a pornstory (and helped me out/provided emotional support at times), so naturally, I shared my news with them first. Out of the people I know in *real life*, I decided on going to one of my best friends (Tojo) first, as he's one of the few *real* people I've discussed my writing with, and back in the summer, we'd had a conversation about what words are sexy and what words are not. Besides, I realized that I hadn't spoken to him since July 31st, and I felt a little guilty for not checking to make sure he was still alive. (He does do some stupid crazy shit sometimes.) Not too guilty, though, as the phone works both ways and I have a cell phone and he doesn't, so as far as I'm concerned, we're both assholes for forgetting to check in every now and then.
No one picked up the phone at Tojo's my first try (he still lives in his mom's basement, the bum), so I tried again in an hour. Success! He's not lying dead in a ditch somewhere! I feel like less of an asshole now.
We shot the shit for a while before I chose to drop the pornbombshell on him. "You're the first person I've told!" I said to him. He was "tickled" (his word, not mine) and congratulated me on my successful porning and all that. We chatted about that for a while and then he asked THE question: "What does Husband think of this?"
"I, uh, haven't told him yet," I answered.
"What?"
"I figured I'd wait until right before it was published, in case something goes wrong. I told you that you were the first person I told!"
"When you said that, I thought you meant I was the first person outside your marriage."
"Yeah...no."
"Jen, I think you really need to tell him. I mean, you already signed a contract and everything."
Tojo did have a point. For the record, it's not like I was intentionally hiding my porning from him; I just sort of wanted to make sure it was a done deal before I had to have that conversation. I mean, how many people say they're going to do something and then nothing ever gets done? And what if I told him I'd written a (porn)book and it sucked and no one wanted to publish the contents of my filthy, filthy mind? I'd rather share triumphs than failures.
I waited until Friday evening in the hopes that he would be relaxed and not stressed about work or anything. I served some nice homemade minestrone for dinner and asked if he had a good day. He answered in the affirmative, so I told him that I needed to discuss something with him.
"I found another way to bring in a little extra money."
"You want us to make a sex tape?"
"No. But actually, it's almost along those lines. You know how I told you I write for my gaming websites and stuff? A few people have been writing original stories and trying to get them published and things like that, and I thought I'd give it a try, and...um...I wrote a book."
His reaction:
"And I signed a contract, I start working with an editor soon."
"I don't expect you to read it, it's really not your style."
(And here is where I admit I totally pussied out) "It's a romance. Sort of. But it takes place in the future. In outer space."
"...Okay, let's approach this from a different angle. You know those things made out of paper on that shelf over there? That have words on them and you sometimes look at them when you have a vacation from work? Those are called 'books'. They don't just appear out of nowhere. People have to write them."
"...How much did this cost you?"
(omigod, words!) "Nothing, I'm not an idiot."
"Good. <pause> So...is it, like, a big deal? To get a book published?"
"A lot of people think so, yes. If it were easy, everyone would do it."
"Okay."
(time to drop the other shoe, so to speak) "Since it's a romance, there's, um, some sex in it."
"Okay."
"Alright, a lot of sex."
"Alien sex?"
"No. There are aliens, but no one has sex with them."
"Oh, okay."
"By the way, because there's all this sex in there, I haven't decided if I'm going to tell my mother yet. And even though I know you tell your mother everything, please don't tell her this. Especially since she freaked out the other day at that bridal shower at work when all of her coworkers got the bride a box of stuff from the adult store."
"Okay. <pause> Is there anal sex in it?"
"No, I don't write about anal sex."
"Fellatio?"
*thinks* "Yeah, a little. Cunnilingus too."
"Any other kinds of sex?"
"Well...there's a threesome."
"Okay."
"After I'm done editing this one, I'm going to write another one. I have some more ideas. Do you want to hear about them?"
"I guess so."
"[the beginning of the story of what inspired my next work]"
"Wait...this doesn't have anything to do with me?"
"No."
"Then I don't want to hear it."
"Not everything has to do with you, you know."
"You should make your next Prince Charming play the ukulele, like me."
"No, I've already decided to make him an artist."
"He should play the ukulele."
"I don't WANT him to play the ukulele."
"But you should base him off of me. So everyone knows how much you love me."
*thinks quickly* "Our love story is so great, I don't need to fictionalize it or romanticize it. I wouldn't do it justice."
"Uh-huh." He finished his soup. "So do you want to go into the bedroom and act out some of the scenes from your book?"
"Sure. Should I go out and find another guy for our third?"
"I didn't mean that scene."
"Oh well. I have homework to do, anyway."
And that was that. Honestly, it went better than I thought. I didn't think at all that he'd be angry or anything, but I was worried that he'd be a little weirded out. But with him being bumped down to part-time at work and me back in school, I guess he really can't argue about the tiny bit of extra cash that may come in from this endeavor. And at least I'm just a pornographer and not a porn star. That conversation would have gone much less smoothly.
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