Ache Over Orgasm: Why I’m Choosing Slow Burn
I’ve hit 40,000 words and... No one’s been naked. No one’s been pinned to a wall. No one's been fucked, choked, or moaned against ancient stone. And yet I am emotionally devastated. Because I’m writing a slow burn. Not “we kissed in chapter two and had sex by chapter four but we waited so it still counts.” No, I mean aching. Yearning. Soul-level longing through prison bars. Meanwhile, the market? It wants spice. It wants dirty talk, thrust counts, and thigh-gripping Fae who know exactly what to do with a willing mouth and a moss-covered log. And here I am… Terrified that if I don’t give the people what they want, if I don’t slide some smut between my battle scenes, I’ll close the door to a whole readership. That my books will be passed over for not being horny enough. And let me be real with you...every indie author I’m friends with writes smut. Every. Single. One. And that’s totally fine! I’m not here to judge what anyone writes, I’ll happily b...