I bought a book on Amazon a few weeks ago and just now am getting around to reading it. As I am wont to do I was googling certain aspects of the story and came across the author’s now-defunct blog. About a half hour into reading it I came across the author’s details about the type of sex they are currently having.
It was, I admit, passably interesting in that I had no idea until reading that entry that men actually masturbated.
The problem is that now as I read the book I cannot get the picture of this lonely man and his digital manipulation out of my head and every time I try to read the book I’m just a bit stymied. I guess I’m all for disclosure and authorial honesty, given as I tout it here, but it does sort of take me back to be invited into the intimate parts of real people’s lives.
I fully expect to get pilloried for having sexual hangups. But in my defence it’s not the sex I mind but the sex in the grocery aisle, to put it bluntly. I read blogs where people talk about their sex lives, but I know that going into it. And although some of those people are authors, the blogs where they discuss sex are not their author blogs.
I kind of think that authors need to be careful once they’re published and drawing in a cold audience. It even makes me ponder if I ought to–should I ever be published–have a secondary blog that is just about writing. I don’t know. I guess, actually, I’m still working through all of this. I hadn’t planned on writing right now, but on reading. And since I can’t read my chosen novel for the aforestated reasons I’m still playing in the shallow end of these ideas.