Muse-ing
Everyone knows I've been writing a book and yada yada. Thought I'd do a little update. Currently I've written 33,000 words, actually 33,583 to be exact. Lately I have been moving at a snail’s pace with this book. Part of that I blamed on JR because he's been around so much lately. But even after our schedule got back to normal I had some issues starting up again. Well I seem to be back in the flow (I realize I'm jinxing myself here,) and I've come to a very important conclusion. My Muse is a slut.
That's right, a bona fide Nympho. How else can I explain her absence the past several weeks? For days I've been unmotivated to write. I would sit down determined to write, going even so far as to unplug my laptop from the Internet lest I lose hours to MySpace and other people's blogs. There I'd be, poised and committed to work on my book and....nadda. It'd be like buying a Quadriplegic a lap dance, cruel and utterly unsatisfying.
So finally I made some painful headway with my characters and got them set up for their first real sex scene. And once the clothes started flying, who do you think popped their head into the room to see what was going on? Yeah, you guessed it, my MIA Muse.
So then I start writing at a pace I haven't achieved since I first began working on the book. Everything was falling beautifully into place. There were my heroes, complete with throbbing this’ and that’s, and for sure a few things were moist and panting. And in the corner was my sex crazed little Muse egging me on, nearly orgasmic herself. I just had to put on the brakes. It was all moving too fast for me, and I'm fairly certain it was moving to fast for my heroes as well.
It wasn't the sex so much as the tone of it that was bugging me. I felt as if I wasn't doing the action justice. Because despite my Muse's wild suggestions, I kept pulling the punches. She (and my Muse is for sure female) wanted me to use some really naughty words. You know, the big ones; ass, shit, (I'm whispering these BTW) fuck, tit, cock, pussy, twat...
Ok, maybe not twat. Not even the best romance writer couldn’t use that word and still make a sex scene romantic. I mean can you imagine?
His fingers brushed over the peaks and valleys of her womanly curves. She sighed in pleasure as his hand finally found her Twat, itching with desire--
Ack! Itching Twats?! What would the name of that lovely novel be "STD's: A Love Story?"
In any case, my point is not that I'm uncomfortable using those big girl dirty words (I mean it was MY Muse that suggested them after all.) But even when I'm lost in the joy of writing a voice in the back of my head (not my finicky Muse) winces when I start to get juicy. And that wince always sounds like my mother's. Because I haven't made it a big secret, my entire family is very aware that I'm writing a book. And even if it never hits bookshelves, they're gonna wanna read it.
It's wonderful to have their support, but my mother would be outraged that her daughter even knows about some of the things I'm writing. She has a great defense mechanism for things she can’t handle... it's called denial. Even though I'm living with a man (unmarried mind you,) to get over the shame of having such a slutty daughter she convinces herself nothing is going on. So were she to read my graphic descriptions of a blowjob, her little make-believe world would come crashing down. Because after all, writers write what they know. And while I wouldn't be lying if I said I haven't done everything I'm writing about (to my knowledge I've never had sex with a hunky alien) she'll know I'm pulling these scenes from somewhere.
I know I know. You all are thinking, “just get over it and write the way you need to write. You. Are. An. Adult.” And you would be absolutely right. In the end I’m sure my Muse will win out. Because as flighty as she is during the nitty gritty, I still need any assistance she can give. It would not be wise to piss of a horny Muse. Plus I’m pretty sure she’s Union, and Lord knows I don’t want to deal with THAT!
Wish me luck. Oh and two things:
1) It’s Friday, guess what I get to go sing at work? (Insert sarcastic “Yippee” here.)
2) The stripper/cameraman no longer works at my station. He either quit or got fired, but it’s a shame either way. He was a really good cameraman.
That's right, a bona fide Nympho. How else can I explain her absence the past several weeks? For days I've been unmotivated to write. I would sit down determined to write, going even so far as to unplug my laptop from the Internet lest I lose hours to MySpace and other people's blogs. There I'd be, poised and committed to work on my book and....nadda. It'd be like buying a Quadriplegic a lap dance, cruel and utterly unsatisfying.
So finally I made some painful headway with my characters and got them set up for their first real sex scene. And once the clothes started flying, who do you think popped their head into the room to see what was going on? Yeah, you guessed it, my MIA Muse.
So then I start writing at a pace I haven't achieved since I first began working on the book. Everything was falling beautifully into place. There were my heroes, complete with throbbing this’ and that’s, and for sure a few things were moist and panting. And in the corner was my sex crazed little Muse egging me on, nearly orgasmic herself. I just had to put on the brakes. It was all moving too fast for me, and I'm fairly certain it was moving to fast for my heroes as well.
It wasn't the sex so much as the tone of it that was bugging me. I felt as if I wasn't doing the action justice. Because despite my Muse's wild suggestions, I kept pulling the punches. She (and my Muse is for sure female) wanted me to use some really naughty words. You know, the big ones; ass, shit, (I'm whispering these BTW) fuck, tit, cock, pussy, twat...
Ok, maybe not twat. Not even the best romance writer couldn’t use that word and still make a sex scene romantic. I mean can you imagine?
His fingers brushed over the peaks and valleys of her womanly curves. She sighed in pleasure as his hand finally found her Twat, itching with desire--
Ack! Itching Twats?! What would the name of that lovely novel be "STD's: A Love Story?"
In any case, my point is not that I'm uncomfortable using those big girl dirty words (I mean it was MY Muse that suggested them after all.) But even when I'm lost in the joy of writing a voice in the back of my head (not my finicky Muse) winces when I start to get juicy. And that wince always sounds like my mother's. Because I haven't made it a big secret, my entire family is very aware that I'm writing a book. And even if it never hits bookshelves, they're gonna wanna read it.
It's wonderful to have their support, but my mother would be outraged that her daughter even knows about some of the things I'm writing. She has a great defense mechanism for things she can’t handle... it's called denial. Even though I'm living with a man (unmarried mind you,) to get over the shame of having such a slutty daughter she convinces herself nothing is going on. So were she to read my graphic descriptions of a blowjob, her little make-believe world would come crashing down. Because after all, writers write what they know. And while I wouldn't be lying if I said I haven't done everything I'm writing about (to my knowledge I've never had sex with a hunky alien) she'll know I'm pulling these scenes from somewhere.
I know I know. You all are thinking, “just get over it and write the way you need to write. You. Are. An. Adult.” And you would be absolutely right. In the end I’m sure my Muse will win out. Because as flighty as she is during the nitty gritty, I still need any assistance she can give. It would not be wise to piss of a horny Muse. Plus I’m pretty sure she’s Union, and Lord knows I don’t want to deal with THAT!
Wish me luck. Oh and two things:
1) It’s Friday, guess what I get to go sing at work? (Insert sarcastic “Yippee” here.)
2) The stripper/cameraman no longer works at my station. He either quit or got fired, but it’s a shame either way. He was a really good cameraman.
posted by SassyJill at 10:41 AM
3 Comments:
Doncha just love a pushy muse though, ultimately. There's something empowering about having proven to the muse that creativity can flow from you mind, onto the keyboard and out onto the screen.
Ummmm, yeah. Mom tells me that high heels are too slutty but you're the one writing a porno novel -- where is the justice in this world? Sigh -- it was always obvious you were her fave (I still have Daddy on my side though -- suck on it!)
Ah, but I jest (of course). I think you should make this thing as raunchy as humanly possible. Just do me one favor -- be sure to give a copy to all the Aunts (and Cousin K) as a present. Mom would LOOOVVVVEEEE that. Oh, but you are a big girl now. And, really, I would be lying if I said that Mom's freaked-outted-ness (yeah, it's a word, look it up... Better yet, use it in your book) didn't stop me from even attempting to write, well... anything. So, really, behind all my joking you know that I'm totally excited and proud for you -- you slut.
Laughed myself sick over "STD - the Love Story"!!!
Post a Comment
<< Home