Interview with Jacqueline Jillinghoff – Non-Fiction

So, obviously, “Blessed Sacrament” has a lesbian theme, but as I have learnt from talking to many other writers, how you write isn’t necessarily your personal orientation. So, what’s yours?

Let’s just say I like girls.

And what exactly is it about them that you like?

Oh, just everything, but if I had to single something out, I would say the potential for infinite orgasms. My poem “Penis Envy,” in Madam Jillinghoff, pretty much sums up my attitude.

How old were you when you had your first “girl-girl” experience, and how did it impact your writing?

I think my writing is essentially an attempt to compensate for all the sex I didn’t get when I was younger. I didn’t go “all the way” until I was in college, and that first relationship turned out badly. The girl was very devout, and wracked with guilt. I’ve been in love a few times, and that’s always the best experience, but I didn’t start working at writing porn until my last relationship imploded.

So, some simple facts. Age? Status? Where in the world is home?

I live in the northeastern US, which is all I’ll say, and I’m old enough to remember the sexual revolution of the 1960s. Suddenly, it seemed, sex was everywhere. At least it was being talked about and written about everywhere, though of course, it had never really gone away. It was an exciting time, but also rather scary for a child, just entering puberty, who lacked the maturity and the vocabulary to deal with it. I also recall the backlash — the Church’s anti-smut campaigns, and all the movies that were condemned by the Catholic Standard and Times. That was the word they used in the listings: “condemned.” Mainstream movies, too, not even porn. I’d like to see how they’d review my stories.

Tell us more about your adventures in the Swinging ’60s, and what did you discover?

It wasn’t so much a matter of adventure as it was of sensory overload. I was still a kid, after all, but change was in the air, and sex was one of the pivot points of the cultural shift — along with the war, civil rights, drugs, and, later on, feminism. And for us good little Catholics, anything transgressive was a threat to our immortal souls. I remember the first time I heard the Beatles’ “Revolution” on the radio, I was genuinely frightened. John Lennon sounded so angry. And those over-amplified guitars: they could have brought on the apocalypse all by themselves. In retrospect, though, it was a valuable lesson in the power of art.

And then there was Playboy. I must have been about eight when a boy in my neighborhood, a year or two older than I, showed me his father’s copy. I think he was getting off on my reaction. Naturally, I was stunned by the naked girls, but not just the fact they were naked. It was where they were naked that began to obsess me — the living room, the kitchen, a swimming pool, out on the grass somewhere. It had never occurred to me that a girl could take off her clothes and just hang out, that she could do the most ordinary things with nothing on. I began to experiment with nudity in my own house not long after that.

By the way, I’ve purchased a copy of that very issue online. I keep it on my coffee table for a bit of nostalgia. It seems so silly now, though the articles really are worth reading. And the boy who introduced me to the magazine went on to become chief of oncology at a major hospital.

The back cover of your book says you are equipped with a “dirty mind” … So, what are your favorite perversions? What is the most extreme in your spectrum of tastes?

My tastes are actually pretty vanilla. I detest violence, and if you read enough of my stories, you’ll see they’re essentially comedies. I’m fond of ENF scenarios, though the ones you find online can feel repetitious, which is why I started writing my own.

You say you have vanilla tastes; but your stories suggest a much more mischievous edge — what’s the twist there?

Well, as I’ve said, the point of fantasy is to compensate for the gaps in life. Once you act on them, they stop being fantasies. The thing about kink, what you call the mischievous edge, is that it has to be done completely seriously, or it falls apart. As soon as you crack a smile, the illusion is shattered. My problem is I can’t help laughing. My characters, at least, manage to keep a straight face.

What’s your perfect partner like?

A very young girl who doesn’t care too much about wearing clothes.

So, tell me about your book … Madam Jillinghoff’s Bedroom Rhymes … what was the inspiration behind this? How do you find writing with both sex and humor in mind?

I never set out to write a book. I started writing verses when a woman in England sent me one of hers, saying she was having trouble with the rhythm, and asking if I’d be willing to take a look at it. I offered to clean it up, and in the process, I rewrote it completely. (My version, which the woman in England liked better than her own, eventually found its way into the book.) That got me into writing original verses, more or less as a diversion, until, after five years, off and on, I had close to 150 — many of which are best forgotten. I started reading them publicly at a monthly salon for writers of erotic literature, and people kept coming up to me during the breaks, asking if they had been published. Fortunately, one of the salon regulars was starting his own small press, and he agreed to bring out the book.

Writing humorously about anything is a challenge. In that regard, sex is no different from any other topic. The trick is to do something I feel is genuinely clever and erotic and not be content to rely on shock value or just be dirty.

You have been described by one of your fans as “a sex writer in the company of Ogden Nash, Shel Silverstein and Charles Osgood” — how does that make you feel?

I wonder more how Messrs. Nash, Silverstein, and Osgood would feel about it.

What’s your next project?

There’s a graphic artist in Germany who found my work online and has suggested we collaborate. He’s sent me a few drawings of my character Danielle, which I like a lot, but then, he also has a real career, and scheduling seems to be an issue.

Can you tell us any more about your “German Artist” project or is that a little way off for now?

You’ll be the first to know.

What is your life plan?

My goal is to create a fantasy so vivid I can actually see it.

Your book’s dedication reads, “In memory of Linda” … May I respectfully ask, who is she?

Linda was a friend of mine from college. We were never lovers, in case you’re wondering. I looked up to her more like a big sister. She was funny and foul-mouthed and insightful and totally candid about the most intimate details of her life. She died 14 years ago, and I miss her to this day. Dedicating my little book to her memory seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I like to think she would have gotten a kick out of it.

Thanks, Jacqueline, for sharing a little more of yourself with us. If you haven’t taken a look at her posts — there are links above — we’d love you to do more on religious themes (especially with the corruption of the tender ones). XP