Fuck the Fictional Female Fantasy; Give Her a Vibrator and Let Her Show You What She Wants

Many of my friends know that I am both a paranormal romance writer and an avid reader of romance and erotica. And because of those things, I absolutely loathe Fifty Shades of Grey and it’s successors because it is the worst piece of writing I have ever seen in my life.

 

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I have edited better first drafts than the published version of this book!

 

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But before I get into trashing the writing, I have to acknowledge a conversation I had with a friend earlier today and say this, “I am not just bashing this piece of shit for fun. I am bashing it because women need better smut because there is nothing inherently wrong with female desire. Books like this are meant to sanitize female desire by vicariously living another’s fantasy. However, the book seeks to present a three-dimensional adult woman and all you get is an empty vessel for that fantasy… Anastasia should be able to ask to be spanked and penetrated with $7000 designer dildos without being considered a slut… but instead she has to abdicate responsibility so she can enjoy it without having to own it.”

 

Now, let’s go through some of the lines that make me cringe.

 

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I eye Christian’s toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth. Hmm…

I’m so sorry that you’re this clueless to the real world, Ana. Are you sure you know where his mouth has been? You definitely aren’t the first chick he’s bagged and probably won’t be that last. Secondly, there is soooooo much bacteria on that brush. You don’t wash a toothbrush like you do your body. That makes it nothing like a penis! And let’s hope Mr. Grey doesn’t have a pencil dick because length doesn’t matter if there is absolutely no girth! Plus, there is a HUGE difference between cum and toothpaste, Ana. Toothpaste actually tells you right on the tube NOT to swallow it. Cum, however… well… we’ll stop there.

 

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‘You. Are. Mine,’ he snarls, emphasising each word.

What. The. Fuck. Did you read that as I intended by putting the periods in? Of course you did, you aren’t a complete fucking idiot. So why the hell did she have to redundantly explain to you how to read it? Worst. Writer. Ever. You know what drys up my cooch faster than a long, hot day in the desert with no water? Horrible writing like this sack of garbage.

 

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Amy Studt is singing in my ear about misfits. This song used to mean so much to me; that’s because I’m a misfit. I have never fitted in anywhere.

Wouldn’t it be “I have never fit in anywhere”? Regardless, the song still means exactly what you thought it meant but you feel the need to, again, redundantly state unimportant things to fit more words onto the page. Were you paid per word, E.L. James?

 

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‘Argh!’ I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity.

What part of this sounds hot to you? I mean… I don’t think you should be able to pinpoint the exact feeling you get when it happens. It should be a lot of different feelings but if that’s what you’re paying attention to, I’m going to assume Christian just fucking sucks at sex. Also, it’s called your hymen, you dumb fuck.

 

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His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly.

Okay, I’m starting to get the feeling that poor innocent Anastasia never got a single sexual education class in her lifetime. You sure that’s your belly muscles clenching? Do you know where the little man in the boat is? If not, please consult the internet for a diagram of the female anatomy.

 

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I’m all deer/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake – and he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

What exactly is he doing to you, Ana? And where have all the words gone? It’s like she thinks we actually know what she’s thinking about here because we’re psychic or have some sort of hive mind if we read her bullshit excuse of a book. Let’s break this down: deer/headlights signals fear, moth/flame equals attraction, but bird/snake means what? I don’t have a clue. This metaphor is lost on me, as is the purpose of this story.

 

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‘Put the chicken in the fridge.’ This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Christian, and only he can make it sound hot, really hot.

How? In what world does this sound hot? Does he put his rubbery chicken into your fridge? I’m pretty sure you just lost your virginity a little while ago but now you’re comparing your size to a damn fridge. Where is your head at? At this rate, it could probably fit up there in your fridge with his rubber chicken.

 

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Hmmm – he’s soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tasty.

I’ve personally never tasted velvet. Do you lick a lot of fabrics, Ana? You may want to get that checked out. But I know my shit when I say if you think he is hard and soft all at once, you ain’t doing it right. Work that shit, bitch.

 

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My insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire.

I’m not sure if I should blame William Shatner or Christopher Walken for this one. This is waaay past the Oxford comma, E.L. James. Waaaaaaay. Also, this is another point at which you should go to the E.R. because if your insides are liquid, you’re probably fucking dead.

 

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I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone.

Anastasia, do you have synesthesia? I don’t think you can hear things you’re supposed to see. And what the hell is a sphinx-like smile? Perhaps you can show me a sphinx smiling somewhere. Oh, wait, sphinx are mythical, you psycho. Take some advice from Eminem and snap back to reality.

 

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They dance and weave bright blazing orange with tips of cobalt blue in the fireplace in Christian’s apartment.

Christian is so rich that he can afford flames whose colours are the wrong way round.

 

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You want to be able to turn a woman on with a book? Don’t over exaggerate nonsensical things and learn what a word means before you use it. And for the love of all things literary, please stop writing redundantly. There are some parts of this book that you have to read over and over because you can’t understand what the author is going on about. You have a ton of money now, James. Use it to get yourself a decent editor so lonely housewives all over the world can get some better quality word porn.

 

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