I used to write short sexy stories for my partner. Sometimes, they’d be based on a prompt she’d give me, like “Lady in Waiting” (I admit, I had to look up what that was on my phone as I was boarding a plane to Bangkok for a business trip, but when I came back two weeks later, I had a story for her). I was never very good at it, to be honest. She wanted some fun titillation to read on the beach, but I kept trying to sculpt three-dimensional characters. It was like a weird role reversal of typical gender stereotypes–she wanted sex and I wanted words.

The first prompt she ever gave me was “Mayan Ruins,” to build anticipation of an upcoming vacation to Playa del Carmen. I didn’t get around to it until several years later, by which time I decided to stop pretending that I didn’t want to be a real writer. She supported me through the whole process, as long as I promised to keep it at least a little about sex…