Taboo Creates Honest Stories
If you mention to the wrong person that you write erotica, they might curl their lips, shake their head, and mutter things like: “Smut peddler.” “Pervert.” “Degenerate.” “Oh, you’re someone who writes trash.” But what they should really call me is a “truth teller.”
When I write, I try to make sure my characters are honest about who they are and what they want, and I want them to get what they always desired.
My erotica stories often begin the way many of us do in real life: we’re taught to hide, suppress, and avoid talking about the taboo desires that linger in the back of our minds.
Like many people living outside the norm, my characters feel a deep hunger inside, something that nags at them as they go through their ordinary lives. They have polite dinner conversations, and the gossip they hear reminds them to keep their secret desires hidden. But those desires don’t go away.
My characters keep their desires hidden from society. I try to show their lingering hunger, a touch of shame, the pull of fantasy and surrender, and the curiosity that people often ignore in real life. I like to show the tension as they struggle with their fears and wants. I always start with the things they, like us, are told to hide, suppress, downplay, joke about, or bury so deep they almost forget them.
Like us, my characters can’t talk about their secret cravings. They pretend those feelings don’t exist, but no matter how hard they try, those forbidden thoughts never really disappear. They smolder beneath the surface, hiding under routines and the stiff collars of what’s called “normal” and “decent,” slipping through the cracks of every role we play—professional, respectable, mature, controlled. These words act like scaffolding, sometimes needed to keep things running at work, at PTA meetings, or even at awkward family reunions. But scaffolding can become a mask, and if you wear it too long, you might forget your real face.
That’s where my erotica begins. I introduce a scandal, not just for shock, but to see what happens when the mask comes off and desire barges in and refuses to leave. My best stories aren’t powerful just because they’re “naughty” or full of sex, though there’s plenty of that. I build tension and push my characters into situations where their wants are so strong, they disrupt the stories they’ve told themselves.
That’s the honest moment. It’s when they realize the things they thought they’d never do, the lines they’d never cross, and the truths they’d never admit might not be so certain after all. Desire appears, and suddenly everything they thought was solid about themselves starts to shift, moved by a force they can’t quite name.
Desire doesn’t always lead to wise, right, or even safe choices. Sometimes, the things we crave, especially our wildest fantasies, are best left on the page or in a movie, and shouldn’t enter real life.
Not every longing needs to be fulfilled.
So I let my readers experience those forbidden cravings through my erotica, showing the gap between our public selves and our private shadows, between shame and morality, fear and virtue, and between the illusion of control and what’s really happening underneath.
Maybe that’s why taboo is such a powerful place for stories to begin. Taboo is full of risk and the pressure of everything a character was taught to hide. When a scene touches on what’s “unacceptable,” it’s not just the plot at risk. It’s the whole idea of who the character thinks they are. Why is this forbidden? Whose rules matter? What happens when someone finally admits what was never meant to be shared?
For me, erotica isn’t just about bodies and touch. Those things matter: the feel of clothing, the way people move, the excitement of being exposed or held back. But the real excitement is deeper. It’s about peeling away the layers people show the world, stripping down to raw nerves and honesty.
A character might enter a story sure they’re in control, only to realize that control was just an act, a script written by someone else. Another might think their desires are a weakness to hide, only to find that speaking them out loud is the only way to stop them from eating away inside. Some protect themselves with dominance, submission, marriage, ambition, shame, or anything else they can.
My erotica gives those defenses a reason to break down.
That’s when things get interesting. That’s when I pay close attention. Honesty is rarely neat or gentle, and it’s not always polite. Real intimacy is messy and goes beyond job titles, reputations, relationship status, or whatever kind of public morality is popular at the moment.
That’s the space I want to explore in my writing.
I write erotica because taboo destroys easy answers. It doesn’t let characters stay safe or simple, or keep hiding behind the masks they were taught to wear. It makes everything louder, strips away their defenses, and turns desire into a mirror. That mirror isn’t always flattering, rarely comforting, but almost always honest.
That’s what draws me in. It’s not just the excitement or the thrill of the forbidden. It’s the feeling, the certainty, that beneath all the words we’re told not to say, there’s a core of messy, unavoidable humanity, just waiting for someone to unlock it.
Taboo leads to honest stories because silence creates liars.
Erotica opens that door.
