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You wouldn’t think a writer of dirty books would make many social calendars, but I seem to do all right, and I don’t just mean those euphemistically-named “play parties.” (Although those, too, sometimes, yes.)

Here’s what I’ve learned in the busy winter social season: people love a chance to talk about smut.

Not just the perverts and sex industry types of my acquaintance — if anything, those are the folks more likely to want to shoot a round of pool, have a few drinks, and talk about anything but what they’ve been doing with their naughty bits lately.

But people with nine-to-five jobs, families and kids, all that stuff, yeah. Those folks love to ask about dirty books. Mention the job and I’m answering questions for hours.

Sometimes it’s very insightful stuff about industry trends and self-publishing; other times it’s just the usual “you can make a living doing that?!” disbelief/envy. But one way or another I find myself talking about my work about 300% more than the people around me at any given social event, and I don’t think it’s because I’m self-absorbed.

(I mean, I am self-absorbed. But it so rarely absorbs other people as well.)

I find that very heartening! It’s one thing for a high-volume consumer of erotica to be engaged in and supportive of us dirty authors, but when people who aren’t necessarily my target market take such an interest (even if it is only for the novelty value), it makes me feel good about the future of the industry.

Or at least the future of demand and acceptance — I suppose the industry itself, especially the parts about who gets paid and how, still has some growing pains to work through. But it’s nice to see how popular the pornographer at the party can be.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the hot new thing this social season. Did you have a pornographer at your last party? Work on that!