BarryLowe_author_p_lr-210x315The two questions I’m often asked by friends and strangers alike are: when did I start writing and, more especially, why I write about sex – more often the term they use is ‘filth.’

The first question is easy. I began writing fiction in sixth class at school. I was twelve and wrote in pen and ink in an old exercise book. The story was about a teenage detective called The Count. My sympathetic teacher allowed me to read a chapter in front of the class every few days for as long as The Count’s adventures continued. Unfortunately, I no longer have those precious school books of my early scribblings influenced by my reading of Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven series among others.

The second part of that question has a moral component, for the subtext from most questioners is that writing about sex is not quite respectable and writing about gay sex is even less so. In fact, I’ve discovered from experience that writing about gay men, whether it be erotica or romance, even without the conjoining of genitalia, it’s considered writing about ‘sex.’ I’ve even had a few acquaintances ask me ‘When are you going to write something nice?’

By their definition of ‘nice,’ the simple answer is never.

Up until a little over three years ago my writing was of the journalistic/critic variety with the odd foray into erotica anthologies. Plus excursions into the dramatic. I penned a one-man play about Joey Stefano which was seen all over the world, plus a number of smutty gay sex comedies, and a film script, Violet’s Visit.

I enjoy writing about sex – gay sex – and not in that agonizing way of men fretting over coming out. Most of my men are out and proud to start with. Their problems are not usually of closetedness but are caused by an oppressive society.

Three years ago I discovered eBooks and the seductive world of m/m romance although the majority of my work cannot be confined within the parameters of the ‘official’ m/m romance paradigm. Claudia of loveyoudivine Alterotica, my publisher for whom I churned out short erotic romance weekly over thirty-six months before illness forced the company to close, encouraged me to write what my heart, and more importantly my groin, loved. Since loveyoudivine closed, most of my works are being released in anthology form by Lydian Press.

I’m not big on HEA or HFN even though I have been in a wonderful relationship with the same man for over forty years. I don’t buy into the Hollywood ideal of fidelity and monogamy; I believe love can encompass all sorts of alternative possibilities. If monogamy works for you, great. Just don’t expect me to write every story about it. There are too many untold stories out there, from gay cuckolding through water sports, daddy role playing, and horny space aliens for me to be happily confined in one genre.

Sometimes my imagination can get a little ‘extreme’ although one reader’s extreme is another reader’s vanilla. Trucker Fucker, recently released by Wilde City Press is an example of what many readers would consider flaming hot and way over the top. The sex is unrelenting, brutal and, for most parts, deliciously sleazy. How you react to it will depend on what gets your juices going. I’m a gay man who came of age in another era: the 1960s. And I came as often as I could, standing in and around public toilets or surf club changing rooms as they were the only place I knew to find men who wanted other men.

I graduated later to bars, saunas and coffee lounges but not before I’d met my share of sluts, nuts, and married men. Sex is just another appetite like eating and sleeping. Like eating, it can be a fast food takeaway for instant gratification or it can be a gourmet meal to be savored. Quite frankly, I like both. 



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