Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Legacy, shmegacy

Yet another bit of time-wasting nonsense on Twitter is a program called Curious Cat. You can set it up so your followers can ask you questions, anonymously. Also, the program generates a Question of the Day. Usually, it’s something fairly generic and insipid, like what book changed your life, what’s your biggest fear, would you be a kid again if you could, blah blah blah. The other day, CC asked: “What do you want your legacy to be?”

I had to think about that. Who has legacies, anyway? People who accomplish great things? People who lead, who contribute, who create, who entertain. Who paint, build, compose music. Who invent things we can’t imagine living without once we have them, even though we did before. Who cure diseases. These are but a select few. Most of us shuffle into this life in obscurity and shuffle off the same way. As my father put it, life is but an entrance, an exit, and a lot of bullshit in between.

Legacies are often in families — those who have children, who pass their names and their experiences on to future generations. Not a possibility with me, as I did not have children. Perhaps legacies, then, for childless people, are how others remember them. If they made an impression — good, bad or otherwise.

It seems you don’t really get to find out what others think of you until you die. And then, unfortunately… well, you’re dead. You don’t get to know. So you live your life the best you can, and hope that overall, you’ve had a good impact. If you have an impact at all. If you mattered.

This is where I find myself separating Erica Scott and Erica [real name], which is silly, because they are one and the same. But I can’t help thinking that Erica Scott has made much more of an impression. Erica Scott put herself out there, exposed herself physically and emotionally. Erica Scott is on film and in writing. Erica [real name], on the other hand, has lived a very quiet and reserved life. No marriage, no kids, no grand career, no accomplishments to speak of (with the exception of a successful relationship). If you Google her, you don’t find anything.

So what indeed would be my legacy? How would I be remembered? So many possibilities.

  • The expressive writer with so much to say, who filled countless journals and blogs, who self-published three books, but who spent most of her time perfecting other people’s writing.
  • The depressive, glass-half-empty kind of girl, spending her days doing her best to dodge the abyss.
  • The snarky, opinionated bitch.
  • The woman who cried way too often, but when she laughed, you could hear her in the next county.
  • The empath who listened, who cared, who felt the pain with others.
  • The introverted recluse who hated the phone and hated to travel.
  • The survivor.
  • The mercurial, moody, maddening and often misunderstood woman who people either loved or couldn’t fucking stand.
  • The woman with the peanut brittle exterior and the marshmallow heart.
  • The contradiction: Cynical, yet still hopeful. Bitter and sweet. Sarcastic and compassionate. Cussed like a sailor, but had an almost pathological revulsion toward the c-word. Independent and autonomous to a fault, yet hungrily craving attention and validation.
  • And yes, the woman who broke all the rules in the fetish world, starting to act in spanking videos at an age where most bottoms are long retired — and continuing to do so for eighteen years. Who got into the scene late and made up for lost time in every possible way.

A segue at this point: One more stupid trend circulating the interwebs lately is the Ten Year Photo Challenge. People are posting two pictures of themselves, side by side, the pictures being ten years apart. Yeah, this is fun… if you’re like 15 to 25. Or 25-35. Or even a youthful 35-45. Anything past that is just a public, pictorial announcement: “Hey! Look how I’ve aged!” Fucking depressing.

So the other day on Facebook, I casually commented that I wouldn’t be doing this challenge, because I didn’t need another reason to feel bad about myself. Then, someone who I suppose thought this was helpful, commented to me, launching into a lengthy, rambling lecture about how we need to embrace the various stages of life, that we have to choose to be happy. (Excuse me, but if one more person says that latter thing to me, I’m going to explode into a million pieces.) That I should find another avenues, like volunteering. And she ended it with “Your [sic] worth more than some tacky films.”

Um… excuse me?

Yeah, I know. Spanking videos are hardly classic film. They ain’t Shakespeare. And I’m not naive — I know they’re mostly used for wank fodder.

But to me, they represented freedom. They represented my expressing a part of myself that I kept stifled for years and years. They were some of the best times of my life. Despite the fact that I was performing, I was often my most real, authentic and joyous self doing those tacky films.

I have had women write to me over the years, telling me I inspired them to explore their own kinks. I think they saw me and thought, “Hey, look at her. She’s not twenty. She’s not conventionally pretty. But she’s doing this. She’s got the guts to be who she is.” In this way, I touched lives, perhaps more than any other way. If that’s tacky, then so be it.

So, back to the legacy thing. I guess we all end up being remembered, within our own circles, by a hodgepodge of things. I think the following captures my own little personal hodgepodge concisely and with my signature sardonic humor:


Here lies Erica [real name], AKA Erica Scott.
Tongue was often too sharp.
Heart was often too soft.
Ass was just right.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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17 thoughts on “Legacy, shmegacy

  1. bklynny0856 on said:

    “Just right “ is an understatement


  2. Chibob on said:

    You and I are about the same age. I use a 15 year old web cam photo for my twitter avatar. I won’t be doing the 10 year comparison.

    If I had to come up with all the things you did for my legacy it would never get done. I have a son. That will have to do.


  3. Chuck Tornabene on said:

    I have described myself as a gregarious loner. I make forays, start conversations with strangers who wouldn’t know how to do the same and generally adopt the mantle of “hail fellow well met”. Then slink home, retire to my recliner and process the whole experience.

    No marriages, no children and really few regrets.

    We are all sowers of unseen harvests. We’ll never know how many times we’ve sown a seed that took hold in another person’s heart or soul and bore fruit. Some of these seeds may be sour and only good for root stock others may build a legacy or at least hope for the person who took it to fruition. The “you’ll never be able to do that” sort of root stock has built many a fine hedge in my proverbial garden of accomplishments. The sweeter seeds became a shade tree or two to shelter me in both fair and foul weather.

    As always, the Mouse wishes you well.


  4. bklynny — thank you.

    Chibob — you did the kid thing. That’s all one needs, it seems.

    Mouse — thank you for the sweet metaphor. You are a kind soul.


  5. Even an anonymous butterfly flapping its wings in central Africa leaves a legacy. I think you are conflating legacy with fame. And in the same vein that some fame ends up as infamy, not all legacies are positive. I think the best we can all do is to have leave the world in a better condition than as when we were brought upon it.


  6. I enjoyed reading your thoughts on this, Erica. You know, just because a parent leaves her child with a legacy doesn’t mean it was a good one. Sometimes bad things get passed down from generation to generation.

    I don’t know you very well, but I have read about you years ago somewhere out there on the internet, and when I started to blog, I came across your blog and realized who you were. For me, I’d say one of your legacies is your writing. You often make me laugh with phrases like “Twitter Jail” and the fact that you called Ann C. a Bimbo was hilarious to me.

    Some of the best artists in many fields see the glass half empty, feel things so very deeply, have anxiety, etc., but I truly believe that is sometimes what makes them able to reach more people on a deeper level. But, it is often a painful process to create beautiful works of art.

    Facebook sucks. It’s like high school “look what I am doing and you’re not.” The idiot who said we can choose to be happy has clearly never faced any kind of serious anxiety or depression and has no loved ones in her life suffering from it. She certainly isn’t helping them if they do exist in her life. Also, she probably watched your films, gave her something to do on a Friday night and then years later critique you for it. She doesn’t sound like she is spreading happiness to me. I say you “choose” to unfriend her and that will make you feel happy! Windy


  7. What a perfect epitaph!



  8. daniel on said:

    A repost to your ditty at the end of that heartfelt piece.

    Here lies Erica, but thats not true.
    For she was always straight up in telling you
    that sometimes life could be mean
    even for the owner of a world class specimen ass.


  9. potomacker — fame is fleeting and fickle. Legacy lasts a lot longer. But true, they are not always good.

    Windy — you’re always so nice, thank you. Here’s the weird thing; the person on Facebook has had more than her share of suffering, including the loss of a child, which I would not wish on anyone. But some people simply never learn how to express empathy or just let a person be where they’re at — they think everything is about “tough love” and telling others to “buck up” and pull themselves up by their bootstraps and all that other clichéd nonsense. Which I don’t believe has ever made anyone feel better.

    Oh, and because I am relentlessly detail-oriented (read: OCD) — I didn’t call Ann Coulter a bimbo. I called Tomi Lahren a bimbo. Ann Coulter isn’t stupid. She’s just a hateful bitch.

    Hermione — I thought so too.

    Daniel — life IS mean. But one of its saving graces is nice people. Thank you.


  10. Erica,

    I too find legacy to be an interesting topic. My inclination is to allow others to judge what I leave behind, if they do so at all. But as you often do, you made me think again.

    You said, “It seems you don’t really get to find out what others think of you until you die.” That doesn’t seem fair, so I will tell you now.

    Erica, you are a true pioneer. You expose your face, your mind, your emotions, your wit, and your bottom, to the spanko public to share a very important message – This is who I am. This is what I enjoy. I’m not twenty and I don’t have to be. Beauty has many dimensions and these are mine. Smart is sexy and sexy is smart. Kink is what we make it. I am strong and I am weak because that is authentic. I speak up to enlighten, explain, and ponder. I speak out to right wrongs and set the record straight.

    You are a treasure. Your well-chronicled adventures inspire us all to keep exploring. You know pretty much every famous spankee of our era and have exchanged wisdom with many of them. You’ve spent quality time over the laps of the finest spankers and emerged with a smile on your face. And then you share these experiences with us, your loyal readers, so we can learn vicariously how this feels.

    You’ve touched thousands of lives through your (non-tacky) artistic expressions and your blogged insights. You convince women that these desires are genuine and acceptable. The dream can be pursued and the dream can be realized. Without you, perhaps they would still be eyeing wooden hairbrushes in the drug store and wondering, “What if?”

    One way to assess your legacy is the number of people who love you. On this scale, dear sister, you are wealthy indeed.



  11. Carnell on said:

    yes you are truly a pioneer and a source of inspiration for all of your many admirers


  12. Dorota on said:

    all those possibilities that you have listed Erica are like a rare mixture of dark shadow and dazzling light


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