Why am I a word-whore?

Because I'm insatiable.

Or more to the point, my muse is. If I'm not writing, I'm absorbing. Sucking down information and learning. Thus the photo of Mata Hari. While I don't aspire to end my days in front of a firing squad like she did, her ability to entice secrets from those charged to keep them is an inspiration.

Other lives, other worlds, other realities - they're addictive. Creating them, for me, is a drug I can't live without. Who among you, when you were children, when asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, answered "A word-whore"? Me, either. Yet, how often did your answer to that question change as you aged? My answer was never the same twice. So I looked stuff up - what it meant to be a teacher, or a veterinarian, or an astronaut, or a gardner, or any number of things. There's all this data floating around in my brain - information useless in any sort of real life application, but in fiction! Ah. In fiction, I can be anyone or anything and I'm no longer limited by the peculiarities of the human body.

When it comes down to it, I'm a word-whore because I can't do anything else. I've tried. There was the acting school thing, where the instructors said repeatedly, "If you can do anything in the world other than act, you should." Then came the large software company after I discovered I didn't like poverty and lo, I could do something other than act. I masqueraded as a responsible citizen for a few years, but like Mata Hari's spying stint, the disguise couldn't last.

Writing in secret had gotten me through the deaths of friends and family, through every anger, boredom, joy and pain in life, but it was a hobby. I could quit anytime I wanted. Really. Except I discovered I couldn't. I'm addicted to the rush of sanity that followed a well turned phrase or a cathartic, big battle.  That left only one thing to do.

I gave up all pretense of respectability and became a full time word-whore. The profession has been kind. My first book came out in November of 2010. The second book comes out in May of 2011. But I am insatiable. I want more. Much more. I hope you do, too.

Proud to Be a Word Whore

by Jeffe Kennedy


One of the gals I talk to on Twitter posted a note that the term "Word Whore" squicked her out.

This was in the last week, as we've been talking up the Word Whores blog. She tweeted it in general, not a direct challenge to me, but I saw it in the stream and replied to her.

I understood what she meant.

"Whore" is an uncomfortable term. It's right up there with a lot of slang terms for women that are grounded in how women behave sexually. A lady in the drawing room and a whore in the bedroom springs to mind. Of course, that's not the woman's perspective - that's the male view. I explained the Moliere quote, then suggested to this gal that by doing this, we're repossessing the power of the word. We both thought it sounded good.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines Whore as:

- now confined to coarse and abusive speech, exc. in occasional echoes of historical expressions, as the whore of Babylon. I. A woman who prostitutes herself for hire; a prostitute, harlot. b. More gen.: An unchaste or lewd woman; a fornicatress or adultress; occas. applied opprobriously to a concubine or a kept mistress.

See? It's that whole Madonna complex that gets me. "Oh yeah, she's a prostitute. Or at least she's unchaste, which is the same thing." How women behave sexually has always been a subject of great public interest.

Interestingly, if you look at the root word of whore, it's KA-, which is:*

- to like or desire, whence the Latin cherish, the idiomatic charity (see below), and caress - what we often do to people or animals we like or desire. In Common Germanic, the root > a word = lover ("someone desired"), then adulterer (an illicit lover), whence whore - also illicit, but paid. Sanskrit kamah, love, desire, > the Kamasutra.

I love this bit that the author adds:

- In the Latin Bible, caritas = love: "Though I speak with the tongues of angels and have not charity [love], it is as a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal." Translated into English, the word gradually took on its present predominant meaning: demonstrating one's supposed love for one's fellows by giving them money.

It always comes back to the money, it seems to me.

Which is really why I'm a Word Whore. Yes, I love writing. If I don't write, I get depressed. I write about sex sometimes, othertimes not. But whatever it is, the writing gives me a thrill. The stories flow through me in a way that's creative, joyful, magical and not entirely from me. Just as the best sex should be.

And, damn straight I want to be paid for it.

I've been a professional writer for many years now. By professional I mean that I get paid for my work. I think it's an important distinction: If you give your work away, you're not a professional. I'm not talking about doctors donating their time in 3rd world countries - that's a different thing. This is about valuing your work. There are times it's right to give it away - out of love, perhaps - but otherwise, this is about earning a living. Even if other people would like it to be free.

So, yes, take a look at what I have to offer. My silky words, my voluptuous paragraphs. I'll give you pleasure, stimulation, the ride of your life. Step into my boudoir and let me carry you into my exotic world.

Just leave the money on the dresser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The Roots of English, Robert Claiborne, 1989.

Word-Whores Open for Business!

They say prostitution is the world's oldest profession. Certainly, the concept of paying money for service is nothing remotely new...and writers are no different.

In some ways the words are our come-ons, soft and furtive from the dark alley or brazen winks wrapped in silk. "Come and read our stories," we whisper, each delicate phrase like a well turned calf, a swaying hip, the damp brush of tongue over swollen lips. We invite you to stroke our covers, the outer trappings of our blurbs tempting you to crack the binding, lift the petticoats, and find the sweetness within.

*ahem*

Book euphemisms not withstanding, writing is often like sex. When it's good, it's *GOOD*. A story can uplift you, make you cry, put a secret smile on your face. It can fan passion or hatred, or spark something deep within that seems larger than yourself. It may be uncomfortable, or painful or a struggle to understand. And a book that strikes you a certain way the first time you read it may very well become something else all together on a subsequent reading. The key is the emotion that drives it forward.

Have you ever turned the last page of a book that truly touched you in some way and just laid there in your bed? It's a bit like afterglow, isn't it?

On the other hand, lousy writing is...well, like lousy sex. Boring. Dull. Passionless. Confusing. You may read a book and wonder just how you got there. Do you force yourself to finish, simply because you spent money on it? Or maybe you chuck it at the wall and never return. Maybe you merely lose yourself in the moment, or the mechanical act of reading. It's good at the time, but you know you've had better.

As writers, we would prefer repeat business, all of us longing to become the courtesans of the literary world - darling, sweet, bold or sultry or refined. Whatever your pleasure, we'll do our best to serve it to you.

And make no mistake - we want to get laid...but we also want to get paid.

Which brings us to the purpose of this site - a collection of thoughts of seven women writers - some of us pubbed, some of us on our way to being pubbed. All of us are purveyors of the written word, and we'll sell it to you honestly, plying our trade in bedrooms or bookstores.

We are word whores.