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208                                     Jack Fritscher, Ph.D.
            II.  The essay as published in The Burning Pen: Sex Writers on Sex
               Writing, collected by M. Christian, Alyson Books, November

                           Porno, Ergo Sum:

                    The Incredible Lightness of
                                Being Male

                      (Why I Wrote, among Other Things,
                           Some Dance to Remember)

            Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.
               The British critic Edward Lucie-Smith told me that if my once-upon-
            a-time lover Robert Mapplethorpe had written a monograph on how and
            why he shot his photographs, the world would have had an invaluable
            insight into his work. Because Robert wrote nothing, his beautiful work
            stands on its own. Answering why and how I write my literary erotica is
            like skating a Figure 8 on an ice cube, naked. Anne Rice and I started
            out  on  Castro  Street at  the  same  time both writing  books  about  the
            occult. From interviews, I wrote the nonfiction satanic history Popular
            Witchcraft: Straight from the Witch’s Mouth (1972); she wrote the fictional
            Interview with the Vampire (1976). Both of us have double careers writing
            fiction and literary erotic fiction. Behind the mask of eros, we write litera-
            ture. Erotica is literature with velocity. My writing is like thinking while
            cuming. I’m Gatsby’s Daisy: “I write because men are so . . . so . . . beautiful,”
            and because of the incredible lightness of being male.
               Readers and critics feel my writing is autobiographical when it’s only
            verite. In truth, from 1965 to the present, I’ve been downloading my per-
            sonality into books, magazines, video features, and telephone tapes. Jeez,
            I have lived it up to write it down; but my work is no more autobiographi-
            cal than the movie, Platoon, which director Oliver Stone said, “ . . . is not
            about me, but if I had not been in Vietnam, I could not have written and
            directed such a film.”
               So it is with my signature novel, Some Dance to Remember, which is
            a gay history novel of the Golden Age of Liberation, 1970-1982, in San
            Francisco. Some Dance, full of real tales of the City, weaves its emotional
            and historical and erotic ropes around a specific group of people in a
            specific place at a specific time. My “quantum style” folds time, squeezes
            a dozen years into 562 pages so structured with Aristotelian unities and
            limned with stream-of-consciousness that readers willingly suspend their

          ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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