In defence of lust

In defence of lust – it’s a title waiting for something to do with it, isn’t it? I thought about creating a story to use it, but it seemed more immediate that that, so instead, I’m writing some words here. I could, I suppose, try to link it to my books as a way of drawing your attention to whichever book I think needs the sales (either “all of them” or “the new one” are valid answers there!) but I don’t want to make everything on this blog an advertorial. So I’m just going to write, exploring ideas by typing words as they enter my head, seeing what comes to me.

In defence of lust – it sounds like a manifesto, doesn’t it? A case to be made. Does lust need defending? In some ways, yes – it’s got an image problem hasn’t it – cruder than love, less noble somehow. Desire sounds nicer, the gentrified version of lust. But – providing we addd some caveats to make sure we’re talking about mutual, consensual lust here – I think there’s an argument to be made that lust is what makes human relationships interesting. Love is important, it’s what sustains relationships, what gives them meaning in the long term, but lust is the spark, the motivator, the reason things happen. I write erotica and erotica is all about lust, but it’s about what lust does to us, how it drives us, how it makes us interact with other humans. Erotica isn’t just sex – or at least, it needn’t be – it’s people, characters, their motivations and their interactions. Good erotica, or what I think of as good erotica anyway, is about the characters, and why they want to have sex with each other. So lust underpins everything, and lust is more than just attraction – it’s chemistry, the spark between people that makes the sex they have inevitable and right.

In defence of lust – other emotions have their place, but lust is special. When it’s mutual, when it’s unmistakable, when you know it without saying anything. When you see it in each other’s eyes, in the way they move. It can build slowly, observed but not acted on. Or it can happen instantly, too obvious to ignore. It’s a feeling that demands action – that first kiss, the one where you’re both madly in lust and it finally happens. Better, when then kiss is a catalyst, making the lust burn brighter. Consumating that lust, letting it blur into sexual ecstasy – two bodies moving together, the physical expression of how you feel about each other. That’s what lust is. That’s why we’re human. And that’s why I write erotica.

In defence of lust – if I could capture all that in my erotica, I’d be happy.