How does a writer distinguish their work in the minds of the reader?
It comes down to craft.
I give Frank advice about Dick. Word play, puns, simply capitalizing some words changes an adjective to a noun and simple nouns to proper ones. Bonus double entendre. Those words come from a fictional sexual consultant so they’re better than clever, they’re truer-than-true!
Erotica and sexotica require structure and function. Erotica is judged on its impact; sexotica qualifies on content alone. You must engage the reader sufficiently for them to open their minds and allow the words to flow across their complex receptors. Pacing and texture work together to engulf the reader, accepting for those moments that the words will work like incantations if followed carefully.
These lines from my books are said back to me (more or less accurately) by fans and reviewers. I know why I hear them again and again: they rang right to me when I arranged them.
I want your fingerprints on me
they’ll be like no one else’s.
You at the vertex
with me in the vortex.
My mother was honored for her role
but not respected for her performance.
I love you as much as I ever have.
She’s allergic to responsibility.
How do you trust a creature that can bleed for a week and not die?
I am careful to note that “words are arranged” by me and not to claim that I am specifically doing anything new. Like the final sample, said in the context of a man with pre-wedding jitters, fits perfectly even if it isn’t “original.” It’s apt. There are layers of references and winky-wink inside stuff to fertilize the imaginations of rowdier readers. Rowdier than WHOM? If Fifty Shades sounds like scandalous writing to you, best you pass on by this vintage Boomer porn.
This is collectible sexotica, it glories in the plain-speaking approach to physique and technique à la Masters and Johnson as spiced up by The Happy Hooker. Those were the days when an excerpt of fiction in Playboy could turn into a steamy bondage movie remembered decades later; and if I said “Pass the butter.” like Brando famously did, a Parisian scene of sex with an asshole flashed in front of you. Three words!! That’s craft!!!