Timothy McSweeney’s Internet Tendency: The Conflicted Existence of a Female Porn Writer.

Lynsey G. has taken odd writing jobs where she could get them for a few years now, and one day woke up to realize that they were all about sex. With gigs at three porn magazines doing DVD reviews, set copy, interviews, and more, a book in the works about swingers, and now this column, it appears that she’s deeply mired in smut. This column is more or less a place for her to rant, rave, and muse about the weirdness of watching people screw for a living.

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C O L U M N 1

An Introduction.

BY LYNSEY G.

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Let me be clear about something: I never set out to become a porn writer. I set out to be a writer. Ever since I was seven, I’ve wanted to write novels and children’s books and illustrate my own work. But, as it turns out, writing fiction isn’t such an easy thing to make a living at, and along the way I stumbled off the path and wound up here, amidst the plastic-wrapped, two-for-one skin magazines. I still work on my own creative endeavors, and I’ve even had a few stories published here and there, but the only lucrative gigs I’ve ever had as a writer have been for bottom-shelf wank rags.

How did this happen? Well, I followed a pretty typical trajectory after college, casting about in a general fugue of post-B.A.-in-English angst for a few years, and then settled in New York, where writers have been losing their souls for centuries. When a friend mentioned that she knew the editor-in-chief of a sleazy porno magazine who was looking for a DVD reviewer, I figured I’d give it a try. I’d spent some time working as, among other things, a go-go dancer, a nude art model, and an amateur Sex and the City expert, and hell, I’d seen my fair share of internet porn. It was something I had never felt particularly proud of watching, but I saw nothing wrong with pornography; I’d read it was as old as the cave paintings. Part of the human condition. As a practical, if not exactly radical, feminist, I did have a moment’s hesitation about becoming part of an industry notorious for its exploitation of women. But then again, as a feminist, I should be willing to support the right of women to do whatever they wanted with their lives, minds, and bodies, right? If they decided to have sex on camera, I would support their decisions, and make a buck out of reviewing their work. And, hell, I was broke. So why not?

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