For the last seven days or so, I have been writing every day on a story that I’m pulling out of my ass. In addition, I’ve also been writing letters and/or posts of Fetlife about kink matters that have been rattling in my brain. I even published another erotica. I’ve been reading two books, and started a third last night. I am lounging in words. In addition to writing, I’ve been exercising, eating well, and sleeping well. Sleeping at weird hours, but sleeping, nonetheless. And I’ve been working and making decent money. I’ve been social and only lost a few hours total this week. I kinda rock.
I’ve been writing since I was about five years old, starting with thank-you letters at Christmas and my birthday. In first grade I was published in the school’s writing fair, and I was hooked.
This story is mostly a love letter to a new man in my life. I have no idea where I’m going with it. And now, characters have started to unfold and plots are revealing themselves. I am grateful for the influence that Gemma Doyle and Henry Wotton have on me. It’s also completely in the GoT mindset, although not quite fanfiction. After 50 Shades of Gross, Really? I started to realize that everything is fanfiction, in a way. Not only are we surrounded by the remakes of old stories, but the sequels that come out under different folks many years later-that’s fanfiction, too. This story is a sort of fanfiction, but mostly as placeholders. I’m wanting my own world. My own take on Westeros connected to my Inner World.
The worst part of being up during the day is the sun. I write better when everyone else sleeps, when the world is quiet except for the alley cat, the graveyard shift smokers, and me.
The best part of being up during the day is the sun. It’s warm, and friendly, and has long loved my adoration. Growing up in sunny California, I guess, had endeared me to him early on.
I wonder if it’s bad that some of my romances involve untold number of words, poured out in lovemaking and in the weeks between, singing their sweetness aloud in public; and others involve quiet times alone and held close, providing it’s own silent validation. I wonder if it’s bad that every time I observe something about myself, I think it automatically negative.
Yesterday I spent an hour creating a council for the character in my new story. I built a table with people that I have admired for many years, and I love that the skeleton of those characters finds its root in my life. I gave myself versions of Gary, JJ, Tina, Shawna, and my Pa-Pa to advise the Queen. I renamed the advisors under a theme, and now they are more than my opinions of my friends; now they are becoming their own people. Soon they will say things in council that surprise me, and they will leap off of the page and run amuck in my mind. Or I’ll have to install new advisors.
The biggest change about all of this writing, really, is that I’m reading it. I am reading what I wrote last time every time I start, like a recap before the wiener song begins. Then I keep writing. Then I read it again. Sometimes I change things, but I have only erased whole paragraphs once. I am just getting it down. I’m allowing judgement to slide off my back like the teflon Kimberley tried to help me install years ago. After I read it-sometimes having read it twice-I send it to my love interest. Then I copy-paste it to a drive, and show a handful of my cheerleaders. And then I have a bagel.
I took my sister to Phase Two, as Josh would say. It was less than 45 minutes, no visual aids, and accepted with support and love. The longer I know my sister, the longer I think I have no understanding of how she views me. I always see myself the same way when imagining her perspective. And over the last 10 years, the last 5 especially, she surprises me. Maybe I should let go of old beliefs. And I think I know how I’ll tell Zanny. There’s one way I’ve always felt like we communicate well, and it’s easier anyway.
Matt and I are reconnecting in ways that make me feel confident again. I wasn’t worried, but things were hard. Read: life is hard, and when you have a partner, it wears on you both. Things are calm before the storm of his new goals. I hope I can support him with those the way he’s backed me all year. After Puerto Rico, I thought my book was off the table. Between Matt and Jared, and all my allies across the lands that have loved me, I am writing more than ever. I am sitting in the bathtub and lingering in memories, putting it all down. It’s going down in fiction and in sex, like the trauma itself went down. lol Maybe that’s the only way I can understand the world: through fiction and sex. And chocolate.
You know, maybe that’s ok. Maybe it’s exactly what I’m meant to do.