This Post NSFW!

No, I haven't published any nude pictures of myself. I've never even taken any nude pictures of myself. I fear the repercussions. Also, I don't look that great naked. Sorry, hopefuls.

But I digress. What I'm going to write about today is just too damn sexy for the workplace.
I'm talking about erotica, people.
There you go, judging me again. Good erotica isn't all about sex. In fact, let's talk about the purpose of erotica. It's all about expressing the wonderful sensuality of the smut in art form. But the importance lies in the expression, not the tickle you get--yeah, that form of entertainment is called porn. Porn is all about evoking a sexual response; erotica is about expressing the sexuality.

I was inspired to start this discussion because of bad erotica. But how to distinguish between the good and the bad? Well, I gave most of it away in the paragraph above. But I've always been fond of the classic case studies.

Anne Rice

Good erotica is often limited to short story form for a single, simple reason: there's only so long you can go on about makin' waffles. Let's face it--the dirty deed is, in itself, a supremely inelegant experience. If you're going to feature it in a novel without simply trying to appeal to the average horndog, you need to put a twist on it.
We know and love Rice for her vampires. We know and love vampirism because it is a metaphor for sex. We love Rice's vampire novels because she languidly explores that metaphor with amazing acuity.
The very first book, "Interview with the Vampire," illustrates it so ingeniously. She establishes immediately that vampires are incapable of having sex. How, you ask, does her book become erotic? Her descriptions of drinking blood are so sensual they are borderline animalistic. It's a kind of carnal irony that periodically peppers the books.

Now, that's me just sort of sliding her vampire chronicles into the erotica category. It is not nearly as explicit as her Sleeping Beauty trilogy.
Oh, have you heard of that? If you thought American McGee's Alice was a deformation of a classic children's tale, you clearly haven't experienced this.
Essentially, Rice wanted to write a piece exploring the psychology and relationships behind BDSM. Somehow, she thought rewriting the tale of Sleeping Beauty would accommodate it effectively.

I'll wait a moment as you envision Sleeping Beauty imprisoned as a sex slave. Just so we're all on the same page of crazy shit.

But once you get past the shellshock, it's very fascinating. I'll be honest: I've only read about the first half or so of the first book (I may get around to finishing the rest some day--it was hard to get through). As we can all imagine, this premise has the potential to produce a story that is hideously perverse. But what makes this good erotica is how Rice's ability to write characters shines through, making it a captivating story about people affected by these sexual experiences.
Once again, it's her talent as a writer that's showcased here.

Rice is an excellent writer of the lovingly lascivious. She set the bar for the erotic. The story is her main concern, and the sex is the epicurean elucidation amidst the beautiful tapestry of her setting.
Now.... What of the bad?

Laurell K. Hamilton

Oh, Laurell. We had a great relationship going, you and I. You started out with a great hard-hitting thriller. "I don't date vampires. I kill them," said Anita Blake, the Executioner. Anita trusted her gun more than most living things, avoided romanticism, and remained chaste. We had some great crime-solving action, sprinkled with a little of the lusty goodness that is vampires.

Then it went downhill. And by downhill, I mean plunging catastrophically from quality urban fantasy to bawdy Mary Sue.
Let's define Mary Sue.
A Mary Sue, most agree, is based around some ideal stereotypical character with few or no flaws. There are many flavors of Mary Sue. But I'm referring specifically to the perfect-situation, fantasy-fulfulling Mary Sue.
Let me explain.

When I last left Anita (I have not yet read past "Incubus Dreams"), she would wake up in the morning next to hot male strippers, with whom she required sex regularly. Regularly. It was a necessity. She had their total cooperation and allegiance in this endeavor. Additionally, she was dating a sex god of a vampire. She was a kickass investigator with a few extra supernatural powers, including necromancy. She could beat the shit out of people, despite her small stature, but people also thought she was quite attractive. This, of course, was not very relevant, considering how she was constantly banging these hot shapeshifter strippers--several of whom loved her dearly--and dating this incubus vampire. Her new tactic for fighting enemies was to sex the hell out of 'em.

See what I mean about fantasy fulfillment here? This could seriously be a porn.

It's bad erotica because Hamilton created a terribly unimportant heroine. Credibility is sacrificed for the sake of constant sex between the characters. Getting some action is great, but that's not what I want this series to focus on.
"Oh, woe is me! I caught a supernatural STD where I have to have sex all the time! Boo hoo!"
Blech. That's a powerful crime novel, right there. Once the mysteries became neglected and it was more important to figure out where Anita was going to be riding bareback next, I knew it was time to stop.

So what have we learned?
Putting sex in your writing does not automatically produce porn. Like any piece of literature, the strength of your penmanship is what determines the nature of the story.

Also, avoid writing mystery thrillers that involve investigators doing the horizontal tango with strippers, friends, villians, and perfect strangers all the fucking time. It's exhausting. And not in the fun way.