I read an interview with queer romance novelist Casey McQuiston recently, and they defended the merits of “pleasure-reading,” but also the merits of “pleasure-writing.” More specifically, they defended their own right to write beautiful, indulgent stories about hot people having wild adventures in lovely locales, just because it feels good to write that kind of thing, and because it’ll feel good for someone to read it.
This really resonated with me, as someone who writes for a living. The work I do that actually keeps me housed and fed is the least creative part of my work: listicles of the best sex toys in various categories. While I’m profoundly grateful to have any paying work at all, this type of work is not what sustains my soul or revs my engine. I do it so I’ll have enough time and sustenance to be able to do my other work, the work I actually enjoy, like this newsletter (for which I’m so so thankful for your patronage!), and my blog (sometimes), and my songs, and my fanfiction.