Filtering by Tag: JOURNALISM
What If?
What if your parents turn you into a human lab rat when you’re a child? Will that change the story of your life? Will that change who you are? Find out in my memoir: Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment.
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These Interstitial Spaces
“Later it occurred to me that I’m only really happy when I’m in these interstitial spaces, where I’ve kind of slipped behind the curtain to see what people are really about, and it’s like living in the place that everyone wants to visit but is too afraid to talk about.” — from my newsletter, “I’m Only Happy When It Rains”
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Operation Me
AVN Awards, Las Vegas, Nev., 2013 | Photo credit: Susannah Breslin
“Because the narrative is filtered through me, covers a vast expanse of time, and includes not only what I witnessed but how what I witnessed shaped the person I became, the essay had to feature me as a central character. In the past, I’ve avoided this angle; on the set of an adult movie, I am the least interesting thing in the room.” Read my latest newsletter, “How to Perform a Literary Auto-vivisection,” and subscribe.
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My 2026 Journal: Day 1
Today I’m working on a 10,000-word personal essay about how the adult movie industry has changed since I first found myself on the set of an adult movie over 25 years ago and how what I saw there changed me. The working title is of the story is “When Pornographers Were Kings.” “Scenes From My Life in Porn Valley.”
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It's Gripping Stuff
“Fascinating. […] Unpacking thorny questions about determinism and the ethics of human experimentation, Breslin attacks her subject with verve and wit, resisting woe-is-me solipsism without defanging her critiques of the study that rocked her life. It’s gripping stuff.” — buy Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment
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The Hardest Working Director
Adult movie set, Los Angeles, 2024 | Photo credit: Susannah Breslin
“High production value is something of a Greenwood signature. Unlike the low-budget, lo-fi ‘gonzo porn’ of yesteryear, his productions are saturated in deep colors, preoccupied with story, and look more like a movie produced by A24 than garden variety smut.” — How the Hardest Working Director in Porn Gets the Job Done
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The Other Uncanny Valley
“‘It’s a phantom-limb penis syndrome,’ said a tall, British man who goes by the name Adam Sutra. Adam is the CEO of CamasutraVR, a company that makes, among other products, virtual-reality pornography. He was trying to explain to me what it’s like when you’re a man, you’re immersed in virtual reality, and you look down at yourself.” — from “Porn’s Uncanny Valley,” The Atlantic, 2018
How Do I Become a Male Porn Star?
“It is unclear if they know who I am. One addressed his email to ‘Sir.’ For the record, I am a woman. I am a journalist. I download their emails in a home office with a desk, a filing cabinet and a garbage can for recycling. I am not who they think I am. I do not have a magic wand that can turn them into male porn stars. I don’t know what to tell them. Truth be told, it is very difficult for men to break into the porn business (unless one rides on the coattails of a female who wants to be a porn star, a scenario with its own set of complications); many of the men who work in porn do not make a lot of money ($150 to $300 for a scene is not uncommon); and what it takes to be a male porn star (to wit: get up, get in, get off) is, for lack of a better word, hard.” — an excerpt from my 2013 Salon personal essay: “How Do I Become a Male Porn Star?”
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This Is Dedicated
The front-of-the-book dedication of my investigative memoir, Data Baby: My Life in a Psychological Experiment.
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Mirror in the Bathroom
“People think The English Beat’s ‘Mirror in the Bathroom’ is about doing cocaine off a mirror, but it’s not.”
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Petit Mort
Petit Mort is … “The only magazine bridging art, fashion, and philosophy through the lense of sex workers.”
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The Real Scene
An excerpt from my 2009 investigation of the Great Recession’s impact on the adult movie industry, “They Shoot Porn Stars, Don’t They?”, a longform piece praised by Longform as “unflinching and devastating.”
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Anton Chigurh: An Appreciation
For HILOBROW, I wrote a short personal essay about my affection for No Country for Old Men’s Anton Chigurh.
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Post-Traumatic Porn Disorder
“It’s possible, I suppose, I was the first woman to set out to acquire Post-Traumatic Porn Disorder.” Read here.
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A History of America's Most Notorious Business
Single mannequin, Hollywood, Calif., 2001 | Photo credit: Susannah Breslin
One of the book projects I’m working on is a nonfiction book about the adult movie industry. The working title is When Pornographers Were Kings: A History of America’s Most Notorious Business. The book interweaves narrative nonfiction, investigative journalism, and reported memoir. While the story’s primary concern is the adult business, from boom to bust to boom again, the narrative also includes my own backstory. In other words, it explores how I came to spend a great deal of time considering the manufacturing of pornography and what the means of production of explicit content and its product say about us as a society and a culture.
Currently, I’m reading Linda Williams’ Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the “Frenzy of the Visible”, which I’m embarrassed to confess I’ve never read. (You can read her New York Times obituary here.) Today I ordered Jacques Lacan’s Desire and Its Interpretation, as I haven’t read Lacan since I was in college and feel it will be relevant to some of my ideas about desire and the Other. I’ll probably also re-watch Brian De Palma’s Body Double, which is a marvelous interrogation of seeing and the sexual object and features Melanie Griffith as the adult actress Holly Body.
Probably the most challenging aspect of this book—outside of revisiting Lacan, ha-ha—is bringing to the fore how my background led me to the San Fernando Valley and the indisputably most interesting thing about it. (To quote the late Evan Wright, in his devastating “Scenes From My Life in Porn”: “I would come to joke that the porn video is indigenous Southern California folk art.”) Both my parents were English professors doesn’t exactly suggest one will grow up to write about the porn business. But maybe being raised in a house that was emotionally chilly and in which intimate relationships appeared to be one way but were in fact another might.
One early scene I chose to include near the beginning of my book is something I’d never written about before. I grew up in a two-story pink stucco house on a steep single-block street in the foothills of the Berkeley Hills. My second-floor bedroom was the smallest bedroom. A set of windows faced the street to the east, and a single window faced the neighbor’s house to north. Sometimes at night I would open this side window. Below, there was a small courtyard off our dining room in which tall bamboo grew, and I liked to listen to the rustling the leaves of the bamboo made. In the darkness, I would watch the bamboo list in the wind and crane my neck so I could see the Moon or Orion tracking across the night sky.
At some point, the neighbors moved out, and, as I recall it, someone else moved in. The new neighbors included a man who may have rented the bedroom across the driveway from my room. He seemed to have a lot of girlfriends. Every weekend there was a new woman. There was a ritual to it. The man and this new woman would appear. They would go in the bathroom and reemerge in burgundy bathrobes. They would kiss and then … slip from my view. I had a sense of what they might be doing, but it was vague. I was witnessing a kind of transgression, I surmised.
Revisiting that scene made me wonder if that was a kind of cinematic experience of the erotic. As in a movie theater, I was in a dark room. In the darkness there was an illuminated frame. Within this frame, people upon whom I was spying acted out a drama of intimacy. When I was writing this part of my book, it reminded me of what an adult movie director once said to me about why he had gotten into the porn business. He was a fan of horror movies as a young man, he explained. But what he really wanted to see on the screen was what happened in the pivotal scene when the knife raised, the woman screamed, and the camera cut away. That was porn.
This was originally written for my newsletter. Subscribe to get it every week in your inbox.
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Fuck You, Pay Me #24: A New Book and Other Things
A pink curtain at an art gallery, Los Angeles, Calif., 2024 | Photo credit: Susannah Breslin
This is part 24 of Fuck You, Pay Me, an ongoing series of posts on writing, editing, and publishing.
July proved to be another busy month. Highlights include the announcement of my next book, an audition I’m doing for a well-known podcast, the latest from my newsletter, an upcoming public performance, and how my novel set in the San Fernando Valley’s adult movie industry is coming along. Let’s dive in, shall we?
The book
This month I was really delighted to share the news of my next book. It’s part of Bloomsbury’s 33 1/3 books series. If you’re not familiar with the beloved series, each book focuses on a single album. My book will focus on Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. I also wrote a bit about the process of pitching the book in my newsletter.
To be perfectly honest, when I proposed doing this book earlier this year, I didn’t think my proposal would be selected. Now that it has been, I’m really excited to be doing it. I spent a lot of time over the years listening to hip-hop so I hope I have something to add there, and I am a big fan of all things West Coast.
As I wrote in my book proposal:
“In the San Francisco Bay Area, I had come of age listening to hip-hop—from The Sugarhill Gang’s ‘Rapper’s Delight’ to Kurtis Blow’s ‘The Breaks,’ from Public Enemy’s ‘Bring the Noise’ to Gang Starr’s ‘Mass Appeal,’ from the Bay Area’s own Too $hort’s ‘Life is… Too Short’ to 2Pac’s ‘If My Homie Calls’—but this was something different.”
The audition
In other news, a couple months ago, I pitched a story to a popular podcast. The story had to do with one of the most extreme, out-there things I had seen as a journalist writing about the adult movie industry. While I had written about the subject in the past, I hadn’t told the full story of what I’d seen.
Once again, when I pitched this story, I wasn’t sure it would be picked. The subject matter is so beyond the pale, but this podcast has a history of doing stories that sit at the extreme end. When I got the email saying they were interested in a 10-minute audition of what the story might sound like, I went for it.
Actually, I really went down the rabbit hole. I re-researched everything I had created about this specific topic, reading stories, researching online, digging up old photos I’d taken that I hadn’t seen in several decades. I probably spend too much time feeling like my interests are too freaky for most people to be able to tolerate, but it felt validating to have someone else interested in hearing about it.
I’ll share what happens after I submit my audition.
The newsletter
This month over in my newsletter, I wrote about various things: my novel, my penchant for taking photos of people’s feet on adult movie sets, what a map of Porn Valley might look like. Over time I’ve learned with this newsletter to write about what interests me, and not worry about the rest. I read something someone wrote somewhere which is basically that newsletters are blog posts with an email function. That caused something for me to click. After all, I certainly know how to blog.
Upcoming subjects I’m thinking about writing about in my newsletter: an adult industry-related event taking place in L.A. soon, what happens when porn stars die, an idea I have for a group art gallery show that would pull back the curtain on the adult business.
Got a suggestion for what you’d like to read about in my newsletter? Email me here.
The stories
A few months ago, I started performing publicly again. First, I read an excerpt from a short story that I wrote that will be published in an online literary magazine later this fall at a bookstore in Echo Park. Next up, I read an essay I wrote about being a human lab rat at a basement bar in Atwater Village. This Sunday, I’ll be sharing a story about what I learned from hanging around adult movie sets as a journalist at Revealed at The Glendale Room.
I’m not sure why I’m doing these public storytelling experiments. So far I’ve learned my fiction is better read than read out loud, being entertaining is better than being boring, and I’m not sure I can tell a good story if I’m not reading something off a page. I guess I will find out! I tend to like to throw myself into new situations and see what happens. If I fail, no one will give a shit or remember.
Or so I like to think.
The novel
This morning, I finished writing the sixth chapter of my novel. I’m pretty proud of myself. Writing a novel isn’t easy. What a slog! What a test of endurance and will! I've reached the halfway point. There are only six chapters left.
Each chapter of this book takes place in a different city or community in the San Fernando Valley. The entire story takes place in a single day. The main character works in the adult movie business. Sometimes when I get stuck, I drive to the place where that chapter takes place. Inevitably, I get inspired.
What a joy and a pleasure and a gift to live in the Valley.
To quote Captain Willard in Apocalypse Now:
“When I was here, I wanted to be there. When I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle. I'm here a week now. Waiting for a mission. Getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker. And every minute Charlie squats in the bush, he gets stronger. Each time I looked around, the walls moved in a little tighter.”
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Jerky Boys
Recently I’ve been tracking down print copies of my older work and posting the stories online. The latest is the October/November issue of Nerve magazine. You may remember Nerve.com. For a spell, they published a print magazine. This short piece focuses on one of the most extreme things I saw in the adult industry.
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The Audition
Awhile back I pitched a story to a podcast. It would involve talking about one of the most out-there, extreme things I ever witnessed as a journalist on adult movie sets (and there were a lot!). The production team requested that I create an audio audition of what the story might sound like. That prompted me to revisit everything I had created that was about that out-there thing: photos, art, writing. I also viewed the adult movies that were created on those sets, which I found on adult streaming sites. During this research process, I re-read “They Shoot Porn Stars, Don’t They?”, which I wrote in 2009 and is about the Great Recession’s impact on the adult industry. I had always felt that I hadn’t gotten the ending right, but when I read it this time, I thought I did. In fact, I think it captures what’s at the heart of my writing on the adult industry: the relationship between fantasy and reality and what happens when you insert yourself into the tension between the two. In any case, I’ll post more thoughts on this audition process down the line. For now, that’s it.
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Sex $75
In the early 2000s, there was a very cool magazine called Arthur. It was edited by Jay Babcock and, per Wikipedia, “featured photography and artwork from Spike Jonze, Art Spiegelman, Susannah Breslin, Gary Panter and Godspeed You! Black Emperor.” Arthur was printed on paper and about all kinds of things: music, art, L.A. In 2003, I wrote an essay for Arthur, “Sex $75,” the title taken from a photo I took of a wall, on Santa Monica Boulevard, upon which someone had scrawled those words. My story was accompanied by some photos I had taken, including on the sets of porn movies. In any case, Babcock has scanned every issue of Arthur and made them available online as PDFs. It was pretty cool to see a piece I had written so long ago. The main photo at the top of the essay I had forgotten about entirely. I took it on the set of a porn movie filmed in a house above the Sunset Strip. When I arrived on the set, I asked if I could take photos of the male porn star, whom I knew, and the female porn star, whom I had just met, while they filmed their sex scene. When the woman hesitated, the male porn star said to her: “She’s cool.” Anyway, thanks for that moment, and for saying that. Time travel is pretty cool, even virtually.
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