Dreams of Fresh Hell

March 7, 2013 by Cassidy Frazee | 1 Comment

Today I come to you late, because my time has been someone else’s money, and my brain has been on hold.  It’s been teasing me ever since I got up this morning, whispering, “Oh, really?  You want to do something?  Lets see how you deal with this–” and they my head starts spinning and my body start acting like it belongs to a ninety year old person.

Clever what you’re doing there, brain.  Did I tell you I hate you sometimes?

Last night was like that.  I wanted to write.  I wanted to get a lot done.  But my brain said, “I’m not going to make it easy; you’re gonna have to work for these words,” and I felt like a beginner back in typing class.  Fingers didn’t want to move, and when they did, words like, “humreres” and “furmeqze” came out.  What was I trying to say?  Beats the hell out of me.

The best part of the whole ordeal is my writing, however.  After a night of screwing around doing other things–”other” being “not writing”–I needed to get back into the story.  So I did.  Once I woke up enough to process coherent thought, I began writing in my halting way–probably because my mind wasn’t working all that well, but my imagination was ready to roll.

Elektra and Keith are into something that I haven’t done for a while.  What I mean is, there is some strange, latex-encased, fantasy sexual stuff going on that I haven’t touched on since I wrote Couples Dance last year, and some of my old fetish stories going back about six or seven years now.  Though, with Suggestive Amusements, I’m sort of taking this a little further than I did with Couples–though I wonder by how much?

The last few days that I’ve spent writing this chapter brought back a lot of the same feelings I had while writing Couples Dance.  I wrote about this last February, when I expressed my fears about what I was writing in that story, but ended ended the post after showing a quote from Arthur Miller, who tells writers that no matter what, you should always feel as if you’re gonna end up in front of the class dressed only in your panties at any moment.

I started feeling that same fear again, because I’m getting into a few areas that are so far beyond vanilla the colors haven’t been invented.  (They probably have, but I got no idea what they are.)  It was stupid to start having the same feelings with this story, because I knew a while back I’d head into this territory, and if you’re gonna punk out every time you have your characters getting into something that’s well out into the strangeness, then stick to My Little Pony fanfiction–though come to think of it, there’s probably a bit of weird-ass slashfic between Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash if I started looking around . . .

That’s the point:  I shouldn’t get worried that someone’s going to read what I’m now doing and think, “What a psycho bitch,” and not go there.  Write, dammit, and worry about the cuttlefish later.

I am mistress of my own realm, after all, and I’ll brew this fresh hell to my liking.