Sorry to be scarce yesterday, but I see that the discourse was civil and on subject, so thumbs up to open discussion.
Some interesting comments (as always) on the topic of whether serious literature can be sexy -- because isn't that sort of what the original comment boils down to? Or, rather, that was kind of my angle, but the conversation went in a fascinating if unexpected direction.
Sarah said: Yipee for serious literature! I agree. I'd rather read something with meaning and substance, not rampaging cocks. (Even though my next story is going to have a gay robot second-story man.)
And I agree. But surely there's a middle ground? Does it have to be one or the other? Does Serious Literature have a sex life? Or does it spend every night -- and weekends as well -- in the library? Personally, I want to believe there's merit in everything I write. Not that I'm writing Serious Littrachure, Darlings. But commercial fiction or not, I want to believe there's value to it -- a point to what I'm doing with my life. I think we all need to believe this, don't we?. And I put the same effort and energy into everything I write. I guess that's partly ego. If my name is attached to something, I want it to be the best I can make it.
In fairness to the review requester who I lifted out of context, he did say "overly erotic or sexual fantasy." He didn't say no sex, although "overly erotic or sexual fantasy" might be somewhat subjective.
Anyway, the previous thread collapsed upon itself, so if anyone has any additional comments or thoughts, feel free to post them here. In very quiet voices. I've got mucho deadlines crashing on my aching head. And it is truly aching after 2 Baileys, 3 Italian margaritas, and 1 Irish coffee. What. The. Hell. Was. I. Thinking?
Operative word: HELL.
Have a terrific weekend, all. And a Happy Easter.