A week ago I had a job interview for a script writing position at Mindgeek. Mindgeek is the parent company for most channels that create and distribute porn on the internet. Chances are if you masturbated this week, Mindgeek was directly involved in some way. I had applied to the script writing job while looking to supplement my freelance work, and hadn't expected to hear back. It was only when I got the phone call requesting an interview that I actually asked myself the question: Did I want to write porn? Like, for real? While I pondered this idea the lady on the other end of the line was polite and formal. Eventually she dropped the numbers for the starting annual salary. It was more than I make now. I figured at the very least a career writing pronography was worth considering.
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My interview was with Susan* the head of writing for a major porn company. At the beginning of our conversation Susan let me know that her brand are the number one creators of paid pornography online, and while working at the company was very hard, it was also very rewarding. There was a part of me that wondered if I should try and make some sort of innuendo out of the words hard and rewarding—you know, to show off my clever writing skills—but I thought better of it and kept things professional. For the next fifteen minutes Susan walked me through the day-to-day operations of a script writer. She explained that if I took the position my time would be divided between writing five to seven pages of daily dialogue and researching current events/popular porn niches for future content. We then moved on to talking benefits (they've got dental!) and my employment history. The whole thing felt more or less like every other office interview I've had, aside from the fact that during the interview Susan asked about my favorite adult stars and disclosed the most popular genres people pleasure themselves to.
While the future of my career in scripting porn is still up in the air, the interview did get me thinking about why people enter the industry and what they get from it. I also wondered if there were any larger life lessons to be learned from writing about sex. To answer my questions I decided to reach out to a handful of current/former porn writers to inquire about their work and if it taught them anything valuable about both sex and day to day life. Their answers are below.
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Jerry Stahl, novelist, TV writer, journalist
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If there were ranks I'm not sure I made it to far up the bottom rung. I wrote for several publications. Beaver. Club International. Others. I kind of thought that when I got to Hustler, there was going to be orgies and moonshine behind every door, but when I got there, the first thing I noticed in the Columbus office were all these sweet old ladies with beehives sitting in rooms stuffing dildos into boxes for shipping. Aunt Bea with Ben Wa balls. On the other hand, that's probably somebody's idea of hot, so what do I know?The biggest thing that happened in my smut writing days was co-writing Café Flesh [the 1982 post apocalyptic cult pornographic scene fiction film]. By the time I was teaming up with Stephen Sayadian (AKA Rinse Dream) it was this strange period, captured perfectly in Boogie Nights, when people thought they could do something cool with porn. In fact, we were almost in a kind of porn denial. Though we got our money from Adult distributors—again, we're talking about pre-internet, peepshow days—we thought of ourselves as more in some Liquid Sky/Mad Max post apocalyptic art-genre than, like, X-rated. Even when we had to stick in a half dozen money scenes, we made them kind of repellant, disturbo, so that (not to brag) paying customers fled like rats in a barn fire when the actual porn came on. This was, I should explain, back when people saw porn in theaters. Anyway, Café Flesh failed as a porn film and ended up as a Midnight movie, running in the same places that ran [counter culture black comedy] Pink Flamingoes. So in some weird way porn won. Or not.
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I wouldn't say writing porn is the same as getting an MFA from Iowa, but I didn't go to Iowa. So being paid to cook up pervy situations and characters and tell weird, funny stories wasn't the worst thing in the world. Just learning to write fast, work without a net, not take yourself too fucking seriously, be as out there as you want—I don't know whether these are good or bad things to pick up. But they get you off the dime. Writing's writing. Suck is suck in any genre. And vice versa. If that makes any sense. As for writing porn? If you can make a living and still do what you want creatively, however you want to do it, then I'd say as long as it doesn't involve human trafficking, knock yourself out. Why should porn be any less respectable than selling life insurance?
Bree Mills, writer/producer/director for Girlsway
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I believe that the narrative is extremely important in porn, as it helps to develop the characters, establish their dynamic, and lay the foundation for the encounter in a way that can only be done through nuance and subtlety before the sex itself. For example: I wrote [the award-winning porn] The Turning as an allegory of homophobia, and the social stigma that being gay is an illness. I used the horror genre as a cinematic theme to tell my own absurdist twist on a zombie story about the events leading up to a lesbian apocalypse.
The biggest lesson I've learned from writing porn is that sexuality as subject matter is limitless. You can let your imagination take you into the deepest corners of your psyche and, if you can get comfortable going there, you will learn so much about what make people tick. It's these psychological pockets and triggers that really get people off. So, if you pay close attention to the details, you can create fantasies that really affect people in a way that goes further than just the physical act you're presenting.
Erin Pim, erotica writer, host of The Bed Post Sex Show
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There's definitely an element of exhibitionism (that I've always enjoyed) in having other people read my erotic stories, because they touch on intimate, sometimes taboo, and usually private subject matter. I had a debate with a fellow writer recently on whether all erotica could be categorized as exhibitionist fetishism, simply because the reader exists. Should the reader be brought into the equation, as they're essentially peeping through the keyhole the entire time? Would these scenes and characters serve a purpose if there was no one to read them? Like, if a forest elf gives a fairy princess an orgasm in the woods but there is no one around to hear it, does she make a sound? If anything, writing erotica has taught me about the countless layers and subtleties that can exist within one's sexuality. Day to day, it reminds me to keep exploring, learning, and having great orgasms.One of my favourite moments as an erotica writer came when I developed a close relationship with an elderly patron at my day job. She was a retired English teacher who was always invested in the personal lives of the staff. The employees would take turns sitting and talking with her every time she came in. I would usually ask her about the book she was reading, and at one point I offhandedly mentioned that I wrote short stories. Suddenly very interested, she insisted that I bring a story in for her to read. I mentioned that it might not be her cup of tea, hesitantly revealing that I wrote erotic fiction. "I don't see a problem with that," she said, and reminded me that she could "always be revived with smelling salts." From there forward, we exchanged multiple stories that we had authored back and forth, and I have to say, the eroticism in her stories surprised me more than mine seemed shock her.
I think people could always stand to re-examine the way they think about sex. The stigmas they hold, the patterns they fall into, the judgments they have. Keep the conversation about sex and sexuality going, even if it's only in your own head. Put energy into it. Read literature, take classes, listen to podcasts, spectate performances, support your local sex shop, visit sex clubs… the sexual resources, sexual wellness practitioners, and fun, sexy events are countless. Stay open, practice inclusivity, and make self love a part of your daily routine. That's the key to making the most out of your sex.