There’s a Miranda July interview from the August 28th issue of The New Yorker in which she says, “I’m always interested to hear how a woman conceives of herself as a sexual person, because there is really no map for this, only a series of contradictory and shaming warnings. So whatever any of us comes up with is going to be wholly unique and perhaps a little monstrous—like a creature that has survived multiple attacks yet still walks, still desires.” She is referring to her brilliant short story called "The Metal Bowl." It’s about marriage, sexual history, fantasy, motherhood, and arranging—if only temporarily—these often disparate components of womanhood into something that resembles the image we have of ourselves.
Just as she did in The First Bad Man, July describes masturbation fantasies in a way I relate to on such a deep level. A masturbation fantasy can be a fertile creative space—more lucid and meaningful than most dreams—and one of the few activities in adulthood where pure imagination is exercised in such a complete way.