Charlotte Newings tries not to worry too much about what genre she’s writing, but it tends to be full of class consciousness, sensuality, sex and scorn.

A non-exhaustive list of things that Charlotte likes would include: mutual, enthusiastic consent; shy people; women; choral music; Vietnamese food; badly playing the guitar; men; oral sex; boobs; gardens. She doesn’t much care for overstated power dynamics, elaborate fantasy scenarios or anything with tentacles, but it’s not you, it’s her.

Charlotte Newings is not her real name. As far as she knows, it isn’t even a real name. In another life she has been a writer of literary fiction, and never shall the twain meet, except when they do. She lives, mercifully alone, in London, although she has thought about getting a rabbit.