Ravings Of A Mad Writer

TUESDAY, MARCH 25th 2014

What NOT To Say To Your Favorite Erotic Fiction Writer

Today I'm complaining again. I've been unable to write anything solid because my muse is on vacation and my head is in that shithole of reality called "real life."

I love talking to people. I love talking to people from different countries, different cultures, religions, and customs. That's all groovy. I love talking to people about all sorts of things from logic, physics, and B movies, to cooking, sex, and make-up tips.

What DON'T I love talking about? YOUR FUCKING LOVE FOR ME!

REALLY.  What the fuck is wrong with some people?

DO NOT EVER say you've fallen IN love with an erotic fiction writer. DO NOT declare your love. It has STALKER and CREEPER written all over it. If you're going to stalk me, do it from afar, preferably inside your head and in some country other than mine. KEEP YOUR stalking, LOVE, and fantasies involving me TO YOURSELF. DO NOT EVER tell me what you'd like to do TO ME or WITH ME. Big no-no people! I don't care how big you say your dick is, what your cum tastes like, how much money you make, or how much you think you can pleasure me. Declaring your love for me puts the red flag up and that's where I drop a big FUCK OFF bomb on your head. 

How does this make me feel?

1) Used - Please feel free to get hot & bothered reading my erotic fiction. Go nuts. Put yourself inside 
               the story, become one of the characters, fuck yourself or your lover till your eyeballs pop. Go 
               for it...Get off over and over reading my words, but leave me out of it. I'm just the author.

2) Unappreciated -  I write "dirty" fiction--sure--but that that in no way makes me a whore, or should 
               lead you to believe I'm interested in fucking anyone who reads my work, let alone YOU. 
               You've taken my hard work and manipulated my words to fit your sick and  
               twisted view of your invented ideal. I'm NOT what you're looking for, trust me! I am not
               a character from my stories. I might enjoy life the way some of them do, but it's fiction!

3) Shit On - You've twisted my work into something that's not real. You've contacted me to discus 
               sex, life, whatever, and then you've decided that I'm more than I am. I'm all for conversing,
               but the moment you misinterpret my friendly, outgoing, extroverted, people-loving 
               personality, is the moment you have over-digested your own sick thoughts and shit me
               out from your big fucking asshole!

I'm a woman. I'm a writer. I have stories in my head. I write them down. I share them with others. END of story. There's no more to me than that. Don't read into what I write as my personal lifestyle. My life is my own. Read my work if you fancy it, but don't fucking fancy me.


Fucking Social Media

Yeah, so MY two cents... More like a couple of dollars. 

I love social media. It's a wonderful way to connect with people that have the same interests and ideas. I've found a plethora of lovely, delicious strangers, who enjoy erotic writing and other aspects of the erotic world. It's comforting to know that there are others out there, and I'm not the only one with kinky, perverted thoughts!

Strangers... Oh how yummy! 

I've recently gotten into role playing. It's an excellent way to generate a story, complete with characters and a plot. One person starts out with an idea, and you trade off paragraphs, slowly building up a story to wherever it concludes. Sometimes it finishes, sometimes it doesn't. What's wonderful about this is that it forces you to write with whatever you have to work with, regardless of style, rhythm, or intent. You don't have to focus on grammar or other structural rules because it's a personal thing. It's not for other eyes. It's self fulfilling, and you can role play whatever the fuck you want! (This is not the same as Cyber Sex. It's a writing exercise. Don't come to me looking for a cyber fuck, people. Get your jollies reading, where I will happily point you in the right direction).

Strangers are great for conversation too. I'm addicted. Yes. I love strangers and hearing all the shit that goes on in their lives. I love to hear them vent, spill secrets, and confess their desires. I love to have them say what makes them crazy. I love to hear what they do, how they live, and their dreams. It's a personal connection with a random appreciation for life, without the judgement of choosing who you would talk to based on gender, race, age, or socially acceptable level of beauty. It's freedom to be a stranger among the strangers.

BUT FUCK YOU social media abusers!

I hate spam. I hate people who don't communicate with their followers. I hate people who auto tweet. My feed gets blocked up with auto tweets on a regular basis. NO ONE fucking cares how many people unfollowed you or followed you in a day or a week on Twitter except you. Keep that fucking bullshit to yourself. DOES NOT improve you popularity. And auto tweeting for certain words? OMG how funny is that ? I tweet anything that has the word "erotica" in it, and I'm auto retweeted by 10 people. Yeah, that's great for promotional and marketing purposes, but I'm NOT being secret here about my desire to tweet something stupid like "Look who auto retweets for the word erotica because they're not fucking paying attention!"

I want lovely strangers who pay attention. I want to be heard. I want someone to care. I want role playing, writing critique partners, and virtual friends to entertain me when the latest stupid reality TV show or the news fails to hold my attention. And, YES, I want to care about others. I want that honest connection to another person, even if it's for a short moment.

Be kind. Be a good stranger.


Writing Limbo

Writing is HARD

There's a lot involved in the process, and if you want to accomplish anything, you have to keep at it, even when you're down. 

You have to have an idea, write it down and play it out. You must develop characters, a setting, and a plot, and put all the puzzle pieces together in way that can make sense to a total stranger. If you can manage that much, then you have to edit your work, "kill your darlings," and probably rewrite, cut, or add new things. When it's perfect, you test it. 

Beta readers. This is hard for any writer I imagine. The best beta readers are strangers who are impartial to your work and who will give you open, honest, helpful criticism. This is the best way to improve your writing. Writers don't always see the plot holes or where their work can benefit from more or less description or explanation. On the other hand, it's hard to give your work out to total strangers. There's the trust issue. Can you trust a total stranger to keep your work to themselves, not steal your ideas, or give it out to their own friends? Can you trust that your total stranger is someone who is going to put enough effort into the reading of your work and is not some total ass just wasting your time? Hard to say. It's even harder with erotica. Not everyone wants to beta read erotica because of the stigma that surrounds the genre. Not everyone agrees on what's ok to write about.

I'm having trouble with this. All of it. I've been told today that no one cares. I'm told I'm having trouble finding a beta because no one cares about me or my writing or the shit stories I tell. 
I'm one of millions trying to peddle a little smut to the world. I don't live in reality and my desire for instant gratification is unrealistic.

Fuck that.

I know I'm not the only one trying to write well, be successful and feel good about it. I'm not the only one who struggles and complains. Yes. I know it. I'm realistic and know it won't come easy. I know the world doesn't know my name and I'm certain the public could give a flying fuck who I am. Yet... no one becomes successful by listening to such crap. 

I'm going to keep trying. I may not be the best writer in the world or tell the best stories, but that's not why I bother with writing. I write because it brings me joy to do it. I write because it's part of who I am. I'm frustrated with the slow process of getting things done, multiple steps that must be taken, and my inability to have no fucking control over the universe in general, but I'm going to keep writing. If I fail in one spot, I'll try a new outlet. No beta? No problem. I have options.  

The reality is that writing is hard. Writing is a hurtful, fucking rigorous, unforgiving, dreadful and competitive occupation. There are millions like me... but there are those who make it, stand out, and shine.

It's not my goal to be famous. It's not my goal to make shitloads of money. My goal is to be heard; to have someone enjoy what I write. I do wish it were easier to be heard instead of having my voice drowned out by everyone else. I will just have to learn to be LOUDER. I'm new at this. I have to experiment, see what works for me, and learn from my failures and small successes. 

I am not failing. It's more like state of limbo. I'm not going to fall. I will claw my way up. You'll know I've made it when you hear the angelic fanfare. Look out.


What the hell is wrong with people? 

I write erotica... Oh how YUMMY, and oh how SINFUL. Or?

I love God. I have a great relationship with God. It's the kind of relationship where I rant and scream and question exponentially at Her like some spoiled, rotten, uncontrollable child. It's the kind of relationship where I stomp my feet and tell Her I'm pissed off and I can't stand the way She created the world. I complain, I weep, and I use vulgar language.

Does God care?

I don't know. I'm waiting for the connection to establish. I wait. Still on hold.

It doesn't matter. I'm blessed in this life beyond belief. I have everything I need to get by--which isn't much--but it's enough for me. I don't need that fancy mansion with more rooms than people using them,  or the car that flashes style, or the bling that says "I'm the shit." I have enough. I just want enough to be happy.

You know what? I am happy. I'm happy that I write naughty and can speak and discus about naughty things with others. It's part of who I am--not a huge part--but a part. It doesn't consume my life. I don't live some sexy, fantastical lifestyle where I fuck like some nymphomaniac wherever and whenever the spirit moves me. I don't have my own dungeon of naughtiness or dozens of promiscuous partners strolling in and out of my home. YES, I do have a potty mouth and wicked thoughts, a lovely sex toy collection among other things... BUT I'm just a writer and a creative thinker. Erotica and sex do not define who I am!!!!

Yesterday I was told I needed help. Yesterday some fanatic told me I had it all wrong. Yesterday I was offended beyond belief that I was sought out as a specific target due to the fact that I write erotic fiction. What the fuck? Do I have a bullseye on my face? Does it say "Unbelievable sinner. Please save?"

No. I hate that people think they know better. I hate that people use God and all Her glory as an excuse to target others to spread their intolerance and hate. You can not disguise your intolerance and hate by  throwing bible quotes in their face and telling them they need help. My genre doesn't hurt anyone. My soul is my own. No one knows the secrets to my soul, anyone else's soul, and nor does ANYONE understand the true inner workings of the universe and the big "question" about why we're here. No one gets to tell me what to write OR HOW to live my life. That's between me and whatever higher power is out there, not anyone and their bible throwing venom.

Discrimination is a powerful force. It hurts. It makes the word bleed rivers of unforgettable and sometimes unforgivable emotion. It creates war, destroys people, and breaks things that can not be fixed.

Don't be a hater. Accept others--or don't--but mind your own business. You don't like me, fine. That's cool. I don't fucking like you either. That's also cool. Leave the soul-saving to the higher power. Mine is safe.

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