When I suggested writing Room 1024 to Erin, I thought it would be easy. After all, I’m intimately familiar with both BDSM activities and culture, and, despite being a chick, had a lot of mentors in the gay leather scene growing up. All we had to do was come up with a plot and people and structure and I could make itbreathe.
But, instead, I found that as we crafted the story, everything about it started to scrape me raw. There were personal losses and history that I wanted to keep private. And there was also an awareness of the somewhat large gap between BDSM culture as it is lived and BDSM culture as we like to fantasize about it in media. It was so important to get the story right for the imaginary people it was about while also wanting to get it right for readers.
I’d like to think we’ve done that, but I also think it means Room 1024 is unusual. Yes, it has kinky sex, attractive men who like to say sir, and rules about BDSM decorum. But is also has people negotiating the structures of their mundane lives, which don’t go away even when spending a week in a playground of leather and parties.