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~ Adrea Kore ~ Erotica, Sexuality and Writing

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“Peek Hour” – Featuring with Cosmo UK

04 Tuesday Jul 2017

Posted by Adrea Kore in On Writing, Published Fiction, Sexed Texts - Articles & Musings, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Adrea Kore, Creative Process, erotic fiction, erotica, Female Sexuality, On Writing, Peek Hour, Publications, sexuality, Voyeurism

Sometimes, as writers, we can forget to celebrate our achievements. We might strive for recognition, but when a little of it comes our way, we underplay it, or find it hard to embrace it.

Many erotica writers I know, including myself, take our writiing, our craft  and our subject matter seriously. We work just as hard at it as writers from other genres. We toil into the wee hours over stories, blog posts and reviews. We attend workshops and buy books on writing craft, and agonize over the right words to describe our subject.  We sacrifice parts of our social life in order to carve out a little more writing time. We engage self-awareness around our own sexual landscape, and around where sexuality sits culturally at any given time, sometimes committing to writing and revealing painful parts of our lives or our history.

I’ve been writing and publishing erotica for five years now.  It turns out that it wasn’t just a quick fling with those come-hither, wanton words. I passionately believe in erotica’s role in encouraging those who read it to become more empowered in their own sexual expression.  That writer-reader relationship sits right at the centre of my imperative to keep writing, and is why I value every person who takes a few minutes to comment on my work.

Yet, sometimes, I despair at the comparitively small sector of the potential reading populace that actually find their way to quality, well-crafted erotic fiction. Censorship and complex rules on certain sites around what can be shown on a cover, and what topics are taboo set up further obstacles, and these obstacles sometimes have intricate moral or political nuances. All things the writer of erotica has to negotiate. As if writing about sex wasn’t challenging enough …

So today, I am celebrating the publication of  my short story “Peek Hour” with Cosmopolitan UK Magazine. The lovely editor I’ve been dealing with informed me they have 6.5 million unique users every month. It’s undoubtedly the largest number of potential eyes on my work, and  that is both terrifying and super-exciting. It’s fantastic that magazines with such a large readership, encompassing diverse demographics. are looking at publishing edgier work that isn’t just about millionaires and virgins, and it’s encouraging that they want to support lesser-known authors.

Despite the background anxiety, I took myself out for coffee and cake to celebrate, and my walk definitely had more wiggle in it today. I want to take this moment to remind all you erotica writers out there: celebrate your achievements. You worked hard. You’re brave. And bold. And bad-ass. Even on days you don’t feel that way. You deserve a little decadence.

I wrote “Peek Hour” to explore a subversive little observation that popped into my head one day on the train to work. As women, we learn to deal with being on the receiving end of the male gaze every day; we of course respond to this in a diversity of ways depending on personal factors. Some of it is welcome, some of it is not. And sometimes it just depends on what kind of day we’re having, or who is doing the looking.

How would I explore a story where a woman was doing the looking?

My character, Roxy stood up in my head, and purred, “Buy me a ticket,  let’s get on that train and see what happens.”

So here it is.  A subversively sexy story, exploring voyeurism from a distinctly feminine perspective. For Roxy, a chance erotic encounter might just be the start of a new kind of journey.

Click on the pic (or the title) to read “Peek Hour“.

Peek Hour III

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Feast: Erotic Flash Fiction

31 Monday Oct 2016

Posted by Adrea Kore in Flash Fiction, Published Fiction, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adrea Kore, cunnilingus, Female Ejaculation, Female Sexuality, Flash Fiction, men who enjoy women, Oral Sex

Arty nude on bed

He is intent on making a feast of me with his mouth. Sometimes, yes, penetration is the dessert and this, the main course.

Crouching in front of me, he pushes my legs apart, then hauls me down the bed towards him, placing his hands under my buttocks, running them deliberately from the cheeks to the underside of my thighs. He leans into my flesh with his weight, causing my legs to tumble back towards my shoulders, and my sex to lift off the bed.

He likes to hold me there, hold my gaze, watch me noticing what his eyes are taking in.

I know he can smell how much I want his mouth on me.

First, he gentles me with his lips, his tongue, finding the soft silky place between my outer lips.

He licks and I sigh. I sigh and I open. I open and his tongue darts inward.

His tongue, curious inside me, and I am immediately wetter. He breathes into me. The warmth makes my womb contract, and release a small draught of liquid desire. An aperitif to prepare my lover’s palate.

He licks and I sigh. I sigh and I open … I know he is hungry and thirsty for me. I know he must drink and devour me. His hunger magics me into nectar and ambrosia.

He breaks me apart like a ripe peach, sucking on my flesh as the juices spurt out of me, drenching his face, dripping down onto the cushion beneath me. His tongue feels out and flicks the delicate ridge of the peach-stone in the centre of me … flicks and licks, sucks and delves. Mouths me, swallows me. And oh, I am fruit for his labours.

The man who loved cunt.

I am nothing now, but currents of pleasure, pleasure breathing in and gushing out, breathing in and gushing out. How can I hold such an ocean inside me? And he is drowning willingly. I will have to rescue him soon, surely. Send out a life-boat.

Oh God. The sheets.

He briefly comes up for air, and registers the sodden sheets beneath me. Panting, he moves my body to a drier part of the bed.

Sometimes, we begin in a bed and end in a wading pool.

And he is diving down again. And I want to taste what he is so hungry for, so I take his fingers within my hands and we enter my sweet honeyed place of earthy delights together.

Breathing in, gushing out.

I pull him up, sucking our fingers together as I look at him, all innocence.  Then his mouth is there too where our fingers are… and we are so voraciously, insatiably, hungry…

That it is time – for dessert.

*

© Adrea Kore 2013 (First published on Forthegirls.com – 2013)

This is one of my earlier pieces of erotic fiction, a piece I sometimes perform live at readings, exploring the playful, juicy, messy delights of sex.

The rights have passed back to me, and as I’m updating my fiction on my blog this month, thought I may as well share it. Enjoy!

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Eat Your Greens: Erotic Fiction by Adrea Kore

18 Tuesday Oct 2016

Posted by Adrea Kore in Erotic Fiction, Uncategorized

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Tags

Adrea Kore, erotic fiction, erotica, Female Sexuality, Masturbation, Published Fiction

Folding the laundry on this hot summer afternoon, I’m still thinking about it.

Sitting so innocuously amongst the unpacked groceries on the kitchen table. Nestled between the tomatoes, the fresh lettuce and goat’s cheese… the cucumber.

A magnificent specimen: firm-skinned and solid, with the most impertinent curve to it. It made me think of something else.  I giggled to myself as I put oranges in the fruit bowl.

I glanced at it again. For just a moment, it seemed its firm outline throbbed. Shaking my head, I put the lettuce in the fridge, thinking salad would be perfect for dinner, after such a warm day.

“You’re going to top off a gorgeous salad tonight,  Mr Cucumber,” I said, picking it up and looking it over, noticing the little indentation in the middle of one end, where it had been pulled off the vine. How like a little eye, I thought.

Then, I swear it winked at me.

The tape measure was already out of the drawer and wrapped around its girth before I even had time to question my actions.Seven inches in circumference. I squealed softly.

“Could I?”

It was organic, after all…

“Megan, don’t be ridiculous. Go fold the laundry,” I scolded myself, yanking open the fridge door and tossing it in the crisper.

So here I am, folding underwear, and all I can think about is the beckoning curve of that cucumber. Where it would touch me inside, if I actually did what I was imagining. If I actually did …

***

Washing abandoned. Skirt rumpled around my waist. Blouse and bra jettisoned, and no underwear in sight. The thought of its shape already has me throbbing and moist. I coax my clitoris into arousal gently, while caressing my breasts. Then as I feel myself getting wetter, I slide two fingers down into me. My internal silkiness expands in expectation. I want my little friend to feel perfect; I want to be wet when I devour him.

“Oh … God…” In he slides. Not before winking at me again, like a cheeky green leprechaun. I eat him up by little mouthfuls, allowing myself to adjust to his delicious dimensions. His topography fits my geography, and that wicked curve upwards kisses that place, that place which sends me into sensory whirlpools of delirious intensity, there on the underside of my navel.

Sure now that my movements are making the most of him, I prop my body up on several pillows, opening my legs so I can see myself reflected in the mirror at the foot of the bed.

“You are a wicked –  wanton – mid-afternoon – harlot,” I admonish my reflection, dipping into myself at each word, admiring my flushed cheeks, the gleam in my eyes, and how deftly my sex is gripping my little morsel of pleasure. I guide him in and out, giving him more daringly to that hungry place inside me, building the intensity of sensations until each dive inwards is met with an outward rush of pleasure.

“Mmm – Yum!”  The word is out before I can stop it. Although it’s rather apt in the situation.

“Oh, Mr Cucumber,” I gasp, my head dizzy from several orgasms. I watch the little harlot in the mirror as she removes the cucumber. Slick and glistening with juices, as if glazed in vinaigrette. I imagine he is rather pleased with himself.

I lie back, luxuriating in the post-orgasmic haze, cupping my breasts, gently stroking my torso, thoughts beginning to return to reality.  A stripe of golden afternoon sunlight lies lazily across my body.  Matt would be here in a few hours -what would I cook for dinner?

***

My lover pours the wine, as I serve up the roast chicken. I have opened the balcony doors, as there is finally a light breeze, easing some of the sultriness of the air into something more tolerable.

“What did you get up to this afternoon?’ Matt says.

As I hand the salad bowl to him, I try not to look too significantly at the contents.

slices-of-cucumber

Image: Public Domain

“Oh, I kept myself amused,” I say lightly, as I watch him take a generous serve, lettuce and cucumber spilling onto his plate.

“Good to see you’re a man who’s unafraid of your greens. They’re very good for you,” I remark, smiling.

“Well, I figure I’ll need all the energy I can get for later,” he teases, his mouth full. “That’s a great dressing on that salad. Sweet. Tangy.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Glad you like it.”

Under the table, I take my foot out of my sandal, running it up to the inside of his thigh, tantalizing his crotch with the wiggle of my toes. “I made it myself. In fact, you might say it’s a kind of aphrodisiac.”

He holds my gaze for a moment. “Mmmm.  Delicious.”

“Uh-huh”, I say, taking a sip of wine and running my tongue over my lips. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

I smile to myself. I wonder if he gets it.

Never mind.

He will later.

© Adrea Kore 2013

(Not to be reproduced or reprinted, in part or in whole, without permission of the author)

This is a version of an earlier story of mine, published as Salad Days. It has a naughtier ending, and goes down well at readings.

Salad Days was first published in Little Raven I (2013), then reprinted in  A Story-telling of Ravens (2014).  

 

a-storytelling-of-ravens-cover

 

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Striking Chords of Metaphor in Fiction-Writing (II)

10 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by Adrea Kore in On Writing, Take Pen in Hand, Uncategorized

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Creative Process, Figurative language, Inspiration, Metaphor, On Writing, Take Pen in Hand, Writing Process

In an interview in 1981, author William Gass spoke of his “hunch” that “the core of creativity is located in metaphor”. Gass went on to suggest that “a novel is a large metaphor for the world.”

In my previous post on metaphor, I described strong metaphoric presence as casting “a fine web of meaning over the entire story. All its separate strands are also interconnected; the metaphors have their own perfect geometry and symmetry. The strands give both shimmer and strength to the story; they catch the individual perceptions and associations of individual readers within their sticky threads.”

Strong metaphor allows a story to transcend its own boundaries, which is what Gass is getting at when he suggests that a novel is a metaphor for the world. Strong metaphor allows a piece of art to exist in the mind and (I would argue) the very body of the reader in terms of the sensations and emotions elicited upon first contact with the metaphor(s). Metaphors are doorways of and to perception.

 

Books as doors to other worlds

The babbling of King Lear in the storm, and the sharp, manic grief of Hamlet live in my body. So does the image of Persephone descending into the Underworld, Angela Carter’s dark fairy-tales, Jeanette Winterson’s searing, lyrical metaphors on love and loss, and the painful examination of mortality and meaninglessness in Beckett’s Endgame. I may no longer recall the exact plot, but I retain the themes, the images, the metaphors, for they are connected with feeling, with lived experience.

I’m mixing my play-texts and my literature here because at a formative part of my intellectual life, I read and studied both avidly. Researching these articles, I was drawn back to theatre theory. Theatre is a powerful medium for metaphor, combining both text and the visual mediums. Speaking on the relationship between spectator and performance, director and theorist Eugenio Barba observes:

“There are spectators for whom the theatre is essential precisely because it presents them not with solutions but with knots. The performance is the beginning of a longer experience. It is the scorpion’s bite which makes one dance.”

If we take the spectator here to equally stand for the reader, and the performance to represent the story, this observation echoes what I express about metaphors and images living on in my body and memory, long after I have engaged with the work.

As a former theatre director, I’m often struck by the similarities between the relationship a writer has with a story and a director has with the piece of theatre in creation. Both must have an overarching perspective on their work, and yet a precise attention to every detail. In other words, both macro and micro perspectives are required, sometimes simultaneously. Both must elicit meaning and atmosphere from the text. Both may feel they have ‘command’ of the characters, yet also find that the characters themselves have their own inner life and intentions; exemplified in the first instance by the common writerly assertion that characters ‘take over’ or write themselves in certain parts of the writing process, and in the second instance by necessary collaboration with actors who will bring their own insights to the characters. I share another of Barba’s insights here; this one on the technique required of the director (writer) in working to create the performance (story):

“For me, the director [writer] is rather the person who experiments with ways of breaking the obvious links between actions and their meanings, between actions and reactions, between cause and effect.”

This, of course, is only one way of looking at the aim of fiction-writing. But to me, it speaks to the curating of unique perspective and voice, and the conscious dismantling of clichés, which is the kind of writer I’m working at being. I may not always succeed – but to create work full of clichés would be like a little death to me, and I don’t mean the orgasmic kind.

What is a cliché? It’s often a tired, over-used metaphor. Long ago, linguistically speaking, a cliché was once an original metaphor, but they have been brandished so Craft of Writing Bok Pic 2016-04-11frequently that they have lost their impact. Encountering clichés disengages me from any text; the more frequent they are, the more likely I am to want to throw the book across the room. Perhaps that’s why I don’t own a Kindle. A careful writer will be vigilant for clichés in the drafting process. My editing clients soon know that I am ruthless about eliminating clichés in their work, and stretching them to find fresher imagery.

This leads me back to metaphor. In the first post of this series on metaphor, I suggested a starting place for drawing out and deepening metaphor in your work: your themes. If you want to know one place where your metaphors are to mine, begin with them.

Themes centre around nouns.

Desire. Loss. Love. Betrayal. Madness.

You could also call these the subjects of the work. The nature of those nouns (or subjects) can be expounded upon to create a theme, and the theme is then mined to create imagery, metaphors, and motifs, throughout your work. So another way of understanding a theme is that it expresses an opinion on the subject. If we go back to my initial list of nouns, I’d expand them to potential themes as below:

Following one’s desires has unexpected consequences.

Loss creates suffering, and suffering creates growth.

Love is essential to the human experience.

Betraying someone knowingly creates negative karma.

Madness is merely an unsanctioned perspective on the world.

There may be major themes and minor themes in a literary work. A writer may express a theme through narrative action and scenes, and through the characters; their thoughts, feelings, and actions. Its function is to bind together various other essential elements of a narrative.

Below is an exercise designed to draw out more information about your theme and deepen your metaphors. I’ll be referring to my two most recent short stories Chords of Desire and The Forbidden Box to illustrate steps of the exercise.

TAKE PEN IN HAND

Have you got a current early draft or idea for a story? Pick out one of its themes that you’d like to explore further. Write it at the top of a blank page /screen. Next, do you have any objects / symbols in your story that are associated with that theme? Add that to the top of the page.

For example, in both of my stories, the impact of a secret is a theme. Coincidentally, both stories feature an important object (also a symbol) associated with secrets. In The Forbidden Box , an old box has secrets, as does the owner of the box. In Chords of Desire, the object associated with secrets is a cello. It’s a major theme in the former story, a minor theme in the latter.

This is a free-associative exercise. Simply allow yourself to write a series of sentences about your theme and /or your object. Think about them separately, but also play with linking them in the same sentence. “Rest” your mind on what you know about your story so far while doing this. In other words, allow your ideas about the theme to be filtered through your story-world. Take about ten minutes to do this.

If you don’t have a current draft, go back to your list of personal themes / symbols from the first post, and choose one or two of those.

(So, while you do that, I’m off to make a pot of tea … Back soon …)

I’m back. I’d love to peek over your virtual shoulder and see what’s on your page, but as I can’t, here’s a selection of my statements from my draft-work.

The Forbidden Box

Theme: Secrets                                       Object: The Box

Boxes are three-dimensional walls.

The lid of a box, when opened, is like a mouth, spilling forth secrets.Boxes are miniature rooms

Boxes hold the tangible and the intangible: artefacts and memory.

A locked box is like a mystery, waiting to be solved.

Boxes are miniature rooms.

Boxes are for keeping things in, but also for keeping things out.

*

Chords of Desire

Theme: the impact of secrets            Object: Cello                                                            

 I am shaped to hold secrets; hollow yet fecund.

For them, I play an entirely more compelling movement, like a hidden code in a forbidden love letter.

But there are stories and there are secrets. The secrets I keep deep in the hollow of my body. These she shall not have.

*

Inevitably, you will generate some metaphors and some similes amongst your list. You may not use all of them in your stories; some you will re-draft and re-word. But I’ve found I generally use more than half in some way or another, and they can be a great way to generate more material when you stall. How might you use these?

  •  As part of a character’s dialogue, or their inner thoughts.
  • A repeated thematic motif throughout a work, particularly if a more poetic or lyrical style is what you are exploring.
  • As part of the narrative itself – for example, if the story is written from third-person omniscient perspective.

Some statements may also become an idea or image which you will explore and illustrate throughout the narrative of your story, rather than you using those words literally. For example, The Forbidden Box is a re-imagining of the Pandora myth, and the image comparing the opening of the lid of a box to the opening of a mouth and the spilling of secrets is an image that helped me link the idea of family secrets, and of adults not revealing vital information to Pandora until she was ready, to Pandora’s burning curiosity to discover what’s inside the box, and what is revealed when she finally opens the box. The shut lid of the box is juxtaposed with the shut mouths of her grandfather and grandmother.

Below is a small excerpt where I used some of the statements in different ways. In this excerpt Pandora is about seven years of age ( I’ve also re-written one or two words so as not to reveal certain elements of the story – for those who I hope will get to read the full version at some point if it’s accepted for publication):

“The box, Grandma, the box!” was all she could say, when Grandma asked what was Pandora's Box b-wwrong. Grandma tried her best to reassure Pandora that whatever she had seen had been a trick of the light, and her imagination.

After dinner, lighting his pipe, Grandfather announced:

“Best not to go near that box.  It’s very old, and very valuable. It’s not a toy, not even for very intelligent young ladies like yourself. Do I make myself clear?”

For the first time in her life, she was only too happy to let something forbidden to her, stay forbidden. But for years she would have strange dreams about the box, where the figures in the carvings would come to life and speak to her, where voices would whisper open me … see what’s inside.

A shut box is just like a secret, waiting to be unlocked.

*

The theme of family secrets, information being withheld is there in the dialogue, and the last line is a re-working of:

A locked box is like a mystery, waiting to be solved.

Note that you can also use this exercise just with a significant object or symbol in your story. I’ve used it to generate the bulk of the material for a memoir short story I wrote about my mother’s life, family secrets, mother-daughter relationships, grief, and her journey with cancer. The two symbols I explored using this exercise were my mother’s hands and an unusual topaz ring.

The theme of the impact of a secret brings intrigue, complexity and depth into the narrative and the characters. It was there in the seed of both stories, yet it could have remained dormant or half-asleep. I consciously put my creative attention on that theme (among others) and worked to draw it out further.

Free-association writing reveals to your conscious mind what your subconscious already knows; it enables you to know what you know. It can help some writers get past internal blocks. What you come up with may surprise you and help you gain more insight into what this particular story wants to express about your themes through your metaphors.

By playing upon your theme(s), you will immediately develop, deepen, and multiply the play of metaphor in the work.In a stunningly written book on the theme of callings, author Gregg Levoy relates this about powerful story-telling:

“A tradition in both Middle Eastern and Hebraic mysticism holds that any passage of sacred text, any teaching, any story, must be examined from at least three points of view: literal, metaphorical, and universal (mystical or wordless). None excludes the others. Meaning thus becomes a thing of layers. Those with a poetic basis of mind understand this. Where science goes for the unified theory, poetry voluptuates in nuances. Where logic studies the wind, poetry regards how the boughs are bent.”

Meaning becomes a thing of layers: metaphors assists you in creating these layers.

(If you find this exercise helpful, I’d love to hear from you.)

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Jodi Ellen Malpas: ‘Since Fifty Shades women have become addicted. They like to read about sex’

01 Monday Dec 2014

Posted by Adrea Kore in Uncategorized

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erotica, sexual relating, sexuality

It appears that reading erotica can help your sex life … and I’ve certainly had my own interesting feeback on the effect my stories have had on readers.

I’ve had emails and seen women at signings who have said that reading erotic literature has opened their minds and massively improved their sex lives. When you’re in a marriage for a long time you get regimented sex – you go to bed, he does this, you do that – and it gets boring. Reading erotica can certainly give women inspiration, and many of them have come back to me very pleased. A lot of men are thanking the explosion of erotic literature. I get loads of emails from happy husbands.

via Jodi Ellen Malpas: ‘Since Fifty Shades women have become addicted. They like to read about sex’ | Life and style | The Guardian.

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Quote

Anais Nin – Delta of Venus (Preface)

10 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by Adrea Kore in Uncategorized

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Anais Nin, erotica, Quote, women writing sex

I had a feeling Pandora’s box contained the mysteries of women’s sensuality, so different from man’s and for which man’s language was inadequate.  The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored.

 

 

 

 

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Adrea Kore

Adrea Kore

Adrea is a Melbourne-based freelance erotica writer/performer & developmental editor. She explores the rich diversity of feminine sexuality, focusing her lens on themes of desire, fantasy, arousal and relating. She publishes fiction and non-fiction. & is intrigued by both the transcendent and transgressive aspects of sexuality. She's working on her first themed collection of erotic stories. Most recently, Adrea has short stories & poetry published in the following anthologies: "Licked", "Coming Together: In Verse", & "Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 13" - all available via Amazon.

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