Three years ago an author who makes a living writing erotica told me the two top-selling erotica sub-genres were step-sibling erotica and new adult erotica.

She hadn't just told me this out of the blue at the supermarket. I'd asked. If I wanted to sell a book, she said, these two kinds of romance were my best shot.

I decided to write siamese twin erotica, even if there was no container into which that erotica would fit. I was just banking on the fact that whatever scuzzballs were getting their rocks off on half-siblings fucking would get more bang for their buck if the siblings happened to be real and/or sharing the same body.

But fucking, even very creative fucking, gets boring after a while if you're writing it—possibly if you're reading it. To deal with that issue, I decided to weave the siamese fucking into a darker web of perverse seduction with a truly nasty vipers' den of secrets lying at the very bottom of it. The Bad Sister, in other words, would be for Gillian Flynn fans who also happened to be pretty serious perverts.

But fucking, even very creative fucking, gets boring after a while if you’re writing it—possibly if you’re reading it.

But even that wasn't quite unsellable enough. To keep this siamese thriller as far away from the New York Time's bestseller list as possible, it needed one final touch: hipsters fucking

I know what you're thinking. Hipsters fucking? So what?

But are you really seeing this thing through? Hipsters are like androgynous angels with high-quality foot and eyewear. They eat fish tacos and drink IPAs and sell gourmet pickles from food trucks and have dogs named Charlie Rose, but fucking they do not do. Which explains why they won't be able to reproduce themselves as a species, by the way.

And this is exactly why I believe a book like The Bad Sister, the world's first hipster erotic thriller, might actually make money. Not because it will titillate a huge audience of bottom-shelf lowlifes like me in a way that is fundamentally different from, say, a half-sibling erotica wank-off, but because it cries out for the world's empathy for a fast-dying, totally misunderstood breed of humans who are doing everything right except fucking.

Max Sheridan

Nicosia, Cyprus

I’m the author of Dillo (Shotgun Honey 2017), a pulp road novel, and the director of Write CY, a Nicosia-based platform for creative writing and community storytelling. I also co-direct Storyline Creatives, a boutique writing agency with a focus on storytelling.