Writing is Writing

My lovely wife suggested a story idea that I pretty much took whole. Wow, that rarely happens but it was a good one. I've got a page and a half on it and expect it run about seven pages. Spouses rock.

Definitions

Just so you know, when you spend a week THINKING about writing, you are not actually writing. Nope, not really.

A few weeks ago my sub gave me an ultimatum that if I didn't write anything of my own, she was going to give me ideas. Her first suggestion was write about an abandoned shopping cart. I started my librarian story the next day. Hell, most likely the next hour. Funny how motivation works that way.

I think I will create a standard not terribly creative long story that will give me something to write in between inspired ideas. That was essentially what Thigh Vs Thigh was and look how well that worked. I wonder if I should continue the librarian story as a sort of series, falling back on those characters and keep going with their exploits. Hmmmm.

Or maybe I should go simpler and say "If I have nothing to write today, I'll write a short secret slut story which is what I spend half my time thinking about anyway."

I'll report back to myself later in the day.

Rules for Action Females

Written by Christina Larson at Washington Monthly.

I am blazing these into memory.



1. Do fight demons. Don't fight only inner demons.
2. Do play well with others. Don't shun human society.
3. Do exhibit self-control. Don't exhibit mental disorders.
4. Do wear trendy clothes. Don't wear fetish clothes.
5. Do embrace girl power. Don't cling to man hatred.
6. Do help hapless men. Don't try to kill your boyfriend.
7. Do toss off witty remarks. Don't look perpetually sullen.

Snagging

My story is not going so great. I haven't hit a wall as much as I just don't like it.

I wanted to do a light hearted sex story where sex scenes are chained together around an unrealistic but fun premise. I wanted to do a delivery girl who delivers food and BJ's. What is holding the story up is I can't find the balance I want between light hearted fantasy and realism. In a way I feel like I'm writing a sexy cartoon. It hits some of my primal buttons but the lack of realism keeps me from really emoting with the character. I think I'll start over tomorrow and work for a happy medium.

It's not like I have had a fetish for delivery girls or anything. To me the idea has merit because it is such a common fantasy, I thought I could do something unique with it. For example, make the whole food side much more erotic than just pizza. I wanted an X-rated Hooters. I also have been thinking a lot about how the really so called 'Hot' girls of the moment are just as fake, prepackaged and mass produced as fast food is. The deep orange tan, the frosted brunnette/blond hair and the fake boobs are as real as the microwaved burgers amercians scarf down. I think my issue is that I see a humourous side to this story but I also see a statement about america and it's taste for mass production satisfaction. Can I even combine the two?

Random Thoughts

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Deep Porn

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One Down,

I finished the first draft to my story today. Cripes, I don't even have a title. I would like this story to be the start of a series, so I feel compelled to create two titles. On the other hand, Sherlock Holmes didn't have a unifying title so maybe I will wing it and just come up with one. Still, what do you call a story about two librarians asking to buy a book from a fetish photographer? Hrrrrmmm.

I used to hate doing second drafts but I am looking forward to this one. The entire time I wrote this story I kept wanting to go back and redo the last page. I found out the hard way that this results in a near perfect first page with no story after it. I held off on my changes, swearing I would get to them in the editing. Sure enough, I am. I will keep that in mind when I start on my second story.

Now that I have one story nearly finished, I find myself judging how fast it took, and how many can I expect to write this year. I blame my years at a car factory for this. I am thinking of my writing in cycle counts, ugh.

Back to work for me.

Stories That Need to be Told

"Female Soldier Demoted for Mud-Wrestling" http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/02/07/soldier.demoted.ap/index.html

Seriously, this is a story that needs to be told. I imagine this is the kind of incident where the dejected soldier loses faith in a nation that wants her to get shot at, but frown on her engaging in sexual play. Let the soldier wrestle! Let her roll around in the mud with other females before she is sent over seas to grab some more oil.

Deanna Allen has joined the ranks of erotiterrorism. Poor gal.

Pictures can be viewed at http://www.nydailynews.com/02-06-2005/news/wn_report/story/278178p-238353c.html

Janet, meet Nikki

Last year, Janet Jackson flashed a breast and destroyed the world. Parents gnashed their teeth and moaned to the heavens "How can I explain this to my child? I never wanted them to know about nipples! Ack!" It was immoral terrorism of the highest degree and it's where I got the title of this blog by the way. Janet Jackson, in an attempt to revitalize a dead career, freaked out a nation and gave the religous right the justification they needed to build their own Abu Garhib where they hoped to put Howard Stern, Desperate Housewives and now it looks like Spongebob.



This year we got Nikki Cappelli. I'm not sure if that was an improvement, but it is nice to see someone punch the nose of the Hypocritical Right. If all you saw was the Super Bowl ad, go to http://www.godaddy.com/gdshop/superbowl05/landing.asp?isc=bpshdr001&se=%2B and watch the ad that never made it to TV.

My favorite line of the Internet Ad- "Those aren't real"

Morning Thoughts

I woke up this morning and the first thought that crossed my mind was "I need a woman". Not in a life relationship kind of way, or in a "Gee, wouldn't it be nice to cuddle this morning?" kind of way. I wanted to roll over, grab someone by the hair and fuck them. The first few minutes I was awake, I struggled through a dozen images of what exactly I wanted before I realized I was awake.

Wow, that's horny.

If writing does this to me, why did I ever stop?

No One Understands Me Like You Do, Blank Pages

I have forgotten that when I am depressed, annoyed, insulted or ignored, that writing makes everything all better. I love you, blank pages. We should run off together and live in the islands where I will write for gumbo and we'll make lots of lovely little books together.

Told You It Was Cold

Two Librarians Walk Into a Basement

I'm at part two of my story. The two librarians are over at a photgrapher's house trying to convince him to part with a book that was written by a friend of his. the photographer is reluctant and stalls by inviting them downstairs. There, he has stored all sorts of bondage equipment and other props from his fetish photography.

Now, my original plan was to have the female librarian come back the next day and offer to pose for the aging photographer in order to get the book. In the basement I had planned for the two librarians to get hot and bothered by the props, come home and releive themselves with each other. Now I am not so certain that looking at bondage props would do it. I am brainstorming for something else that can happen in the basement.

My role-playing instincts kick in and I want to treat the librarians like players. Give them a challenge or something to work against. They have the task of making the photographer sell the book, but I want to step away from that and do something else. I want to make use of the props, but I have a hard time thinking of a legitmate reason two strangers would use a man's spanking bench. I am trying to stay a smidge realistic.

It occurs to me that the photographer could have a clever piece of equipment he wants to show off and Claire could volunteer to get in it. Then he could show the interesting functions and then stop after awhile so it doesn't get pornographic. Hmmm. This would get them to that stae of arousal.

Or maybe he could show them peices, and I could do flashbacks to the past where these peices got used. Maybe if I make the scenes vivid enough, one paragraph each, I can convey the idea of a whole day spent telling erotic real life stories.

Choices, choices.

The one thing I am re-learning about writing is that writing flows much better when things are actually happening. I know that sounds obvious, but so many times I will have long pages of nothing happening planned in my head but can't bring myself to sit and write. Yet when I have action to depict, or conflicting dialogue, the pages just fly.