I must confess that I'm still in the closet. No, not in the way you think. I'm in the closet about being a writer of erotic fiction. Most people don't know the real face behind Paige Bennett and I've done that for several reasons: my poor elderly mother would have heart failure, I think; my entire professional life in my day job, required a squeaky clean image and that's hard to shake off; I'm still a little bashful at times that sweet l'il ol' me writes smut. But my brother, who I trust and adore, knows.
Well, yesterday, after a couple of afternoon cocktails, he teasingly let the proverbial cat out of the bag...in front of our Mom! Thankfully, I don't think she heard clearly, but she did question the swift elbow in the ribs I gave my brother--who merely laughed at my red face. I fudged around about it, and got the subject changed, but ended up being grilled by his son-in-law later who would not let the subject rest. Sigh. So now he knows too.
And there it begins. My outing. Part of me is alarmed that if people in my "real" life find out, it will change their opinion of me. I shouldn't care about this so much, I know. If they love me, they love all of who I am, even the smutty parts...lol. But the fear is there, nonetheless. Another part of me though, is enormously proud of how well my erotic romances have done so far. People are buying them, by the hundreds, and coming back for more. That makes me happy.
I guess I have to have a little intervention with myself and give myself permission to be out and proud and uncaring about stupid prejudicial attitudes that make me want to feel shame. Eroticism is an integral part of who we are as humans. We need to embrace and celebrate this side of our nature too. Right?