Welcome to my new home.
I write under many names; this is just the newest, though it means the most to me. All of you kids out there know how a stripper pseudonym is chosen: You take the name of your grandmother and combine it with the name of the street you grew up on. For me, that means Gertrude Highland.
(UPDATE: Upon further research, I now realize that the calculation is actually the name of your first pet combined with the street you grew up on. Even better? It’s an elaborate phishing scam designed to reflect likely security questions. What a world!)
My grandmother hated her name and took the first opportunity to legally change it. I find it quite nice, actually. There’s a heaviness to Gertrude. She is solid and dependable. She wears spectacles and droopy cardigans and carpet slippers — always carpet slippers. And she writes a shit ton of erotic fiction.
At the age of 31, I realized just how little I knew about my own sexuality: what turns me on, what turns me off, what I want to experience, what I truly enjoy. Until now, sex is something that happened to me or in me. I participated, but I was passive, almost outside of myself. It took a period of true sexual dysfunction before I stepped back and realized, “Wow, I don’t know what turns me on, much less anyone else.”
Reading erotic fiction has been an outlet and an education I didn’t even know I desperately needed. Learning about the world of kink and BDSM was like discovering a whole new goddamn country that had yet to be explored. These written visuals turned me on like nobody’s business. I learned that what porn does for others, erotic fiction does for me.
It took far too long for me to ask myself — if reading erotic fiction turns me on, what will happen if I write it?
That’s what this blog is for. I’ll post stories, chapters of larger works, links to things I like. So follow me into debauchery!