Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The above quote came to me out of the blue the other day while I was showering. Sexy visual, right? LOL! Anyway, I thought it would be nice to do a blog, exploring what it means. The quote, not the visual of me in a shower. That part just means I don’t stink.
There are those who write because they can.
We all know these writers. They’re the ones who are technically flawless. The ones who spent years and thousands of dollars on earning degrees that say they can write. And they can. Nothing wrong with that. But do they believe in what they’re writing, or are they writing for the paycheck? I’ve heard it time and time again . . . a well-known author has a series that hits the bestsellers lists every time a new book comes out. The problem is that as time goes on, it becomes obvious that they’re milking the series for every last dime they can get. Am I saying it’s wrong to make money doing what you love? Nope. Not in the least . . . if you love it and it’s quality work. But know when the story has run its course and end it already. Afraid you won’t be able to come up with something else the masses will love? Fine. If you’re scared, say you’re scared, but stop taking money you haven’t earned.
There are those who write because they have to.
Picture a balloon filling with water. The more it takes in, the bigger it expands until it’s reached its limit and is in danger of bursting. Give the water an outlet, say maybe a pinhole sized relief of sorts, and it can safely continue to take on more. Now imagine the balloon is that part of a writer’s mind which houses their imagination, and the water symbolizes ideas, stories, and emotions (empathetic and sympathetic) which fill up the space. There’s only so much their mind can take before they need an outlet as well, right? Writing is that outlet. It’s a form of therapy, whether you’re telling your own story or that of imaginary characters. It doesn’t matter if the story ever sees the light of day because the author is writing from their soul, purging their innermost thoughts and feelings onto a page and bringing a bit of something magical, a part of themselves, to life. They are genuine, and so the reader feels their story in a core place.
There are those who need to write, but can’t seem to find the words.
I believe I have a muse. I also believe that when I’m a missing out on something important in my life because I’m so consumed by writing, my muse becomes a cheeky little bastard who does the disappearing act. His absence forces me to push away from my desk and live life in the real world instead of in the make-believe one in my head. As aggravating as this may be, I realize its importance. Allow me to get a little personal here in order to give you an example. I recently went through a divorce. Okay, so it seems like it was just yesterday, but that’s sort of part of the point I’m about to make. When the divorce was final, I wrote like the wind! I’m one of those writers who “have” to write. See above: writing is my therapy, yada, yada, yada. And then blamo! . . . nothing. It was then that I took a look around and realized it had been a year and a half since I’d been kissed. I write romance, and hadn’t been kissed in a year and a half? That’s just wrong on so many levels. Apparently, my muse agreed. If you’re doing the math, this means I’m now on the dating scene, which is a whole other post should I ever decide to get that personal with you, but it is DEFINITELY providing some great material for one of my next writing projects. The big point I’m trying to make is that true inspiration comes from everything in our surroundings, but we have to surround ourselves with everything in order to experience it.
A soulful reader can always tell the difference.
Let’s take a moment to talk about the reader. They also come in all shapes and sizes: those who read because it’s an assignment, those who read because it’s a fad, and those who read because they love to get lost in a world that is not their own to experience the awesome power of imagination. The last would be the soulful reader. That reader looks beyond the written word to find all the magical nuances beneath. They see bits of the author through his or her writing, and they think about the story long after the last page has turned. A soulful reader doesn’t get hung up on minute grammatical errors, and they realize that not every book written will be their cup of tea, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a bad book. There is no such thing as a fad read. They read what they like, not what they’re told they should like. I wouldn’t necessarily call them rebels, but I would definitely say they’re the equivalent to music snobs. And they can smell a superficial author from a mile away.
This is in no way a comprehensive study of the topic. Just my ramblings and observations. But I’m curious . . . Which are you?
Until next time,
Friday, October 4, 2013
When I first started writing the Million Dollar Duet, it was actually an outlet for all the juicy erotic goodness that the highly inappropriate part of my brain kept replaying while I was working on my first project, the Supernova Saga. It was the scene at the end of A MILLION DIRTY SECRETS’s chapter 14 and into chapter 15 that started it all. Those highly inappropriate, albeit emotionally charged, scenes simply wouldn’t fit the Saga’s storyline. Plus I could just see my mother shaking her head with that look on her face – the one that says without words how embarrassed she is that her darling baby girl (also the mother of two, not by immaculate conception) has even had sex, and how appalled she would be that I advertised my sexuality to the rest of the world under the “guise” of two fictional characters.
I am not Lanie Talbot nor have I ever had the extreme pleasure of finding myself in precarious positions with Noah Crawford, but I’m keeping hope alive.
I’d like to think there’s a little of Lanie in me, though. Particularly, that quirky inner voice that makes me giggle to myself over something silly. Like Lanie, I also tend to make the best of a serious situation through the magic of laughter. After all, it’s hard to cry when you’re laughing. Not impossible, but hard.
As for Noah, well, there’s none of Noah in me, but I wish there was. Cue wicked grin.
Writing erotica in this day and age really isn’t that big of a deal. Neither is reading it, though some still prefer to keep their interests discreet. People are more open to exploring their sexuality and are always looking for inventive ideas to put the waning spark back into their relationship. Let’s face it; sex is one of the basic needs, ranked right up there with food, water, oxygen, and basic survival. The continuation of the human race requires it even. So why should it be a taboo subject? And why should it have to be a boring one at that? It doesn’t. That’s why I wrote a smoking hot erotica in which two individuals actually have a reason to have tons of sex and just so happen to find an answer to their separate needs through a beautiful love story that blooms in spite of the chaos surrounding them with a twist of humor on the side.
I’ve been told A MILLION DIRTY SECRETS sets the tone for a modern day version of Pretty Woman, which is a huge compliment. I suppose now that we’ve let our hair down and embraced that which makes us feel good, it’s really quite easy to agree with that statement. I, for one, always wanted a front row seat to the real action inside Edward Lewis’s penthouse suite. So here’s to yet another epic love affair. May Lanie and Noah lead the way into an age of unbridled passion minus the morning after shame.