Back to Blog Home

Alive and Thinking in Cyberspace: Pam's take on just about everything

Blog Navigation →

Separator

Annals of Fetishism: Another Entry in the Diary of a Shy P0rn0gr@ph#r

The cage at Wicked Grounds Kink Cafe and Boutique turned out to be not much. More like one of those pieces of garage-sale furniture you kind of negotiate around in a coffee house than fetish object. At least to me; I wouldn’t have noticed it if I weren’t looking for it. But the group joining me and Michael for coffee and a kinky reading from Carrie’s Story around the big table in the back room yesterday afternoon was smart and enthusiastic, as Molly Weatherfield readers so often are.

And as Molly Weatherfield’s readers often do, they shared their takes on what makes quality erotic fiction and I came away knowing more than when I came in. I’m thinking especially about the young man at the end of the table who said that the pleasure of erotic fetish fiction like my Carrie books is in the consistency and coherence of the imagined scene. When you go to a real-life play event, he said, you feel the clash of individual agendas. Which can be wonderful and energizing — or not — but with a different kind of buzz than the group scenes a Molly Weatherfield kind of writer actualizes, with a kind of smooth, tacit communication and elaboration between participants that’s its own kind of idealized pleasure.

One of the pleasures of the chateau, in my private language. Thanks so much. I’m grateful for the insight.

While as for the moment of fetishism (sort of like Rachel Maddow’s Moments of Geek): I was reading aloud from Carrie’s Story‘s  first chapter, the bit about the presentation event Jonathan takes Carrie to. The presentation contest:

“[Elizabeth…] was wearing a very high collar, which seemed to be made of silver, but which was probably stainless steel mesh, like a good, flexible watchband”

So I was reading this aloud — words I’d first written in maybe 1992; words I’d forgotten I’d even written — when my eye strayed from the print to my wrist, and my own good, flexible stainless steel watchband, that I hadn’t bought until about fifteen years after I’d written this fantasy scene, but knew, when I saw it in the store, that I absolutely had to have.

Which is sort of how we roll, I guess, caught in the crosswind between memory and desire — sometimes for objectification, sometimes simply for objects.

Thanks to the Skagen company for matching my imagination so beautifully.

And do stay tuned as I introduce Carrie to a new generation of readers. And learn a little something about myself along the way.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published or shared.

*