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How Green Are My Fantasies 

Strangeness is afoot today because I woke up this morning not certain what I wanted to say, and I’m still not certain.  Although I can point out that I finished the first scene of Chapter Twelve last night–

‘Tiss but a short thing, relatively speaking.

I haven’t put anything together for the Science March yet because I feel like I’m recovering from that still.  I’ve come to realize that I have a shitload of stuff going on in my life, and I need to find some balance before my real recapping work starts this summer.  I swear, this girl never seems to have a down moment.

Let’s talk about writing.  In fact, let’s talk about a particular genre of writing with which I was once involved…

At one time I was a pretty good erotica writer.

Now, I don’t mean like I did a great job writing Fifty Shades of Gray style stories.  I’ve tried my hand at a few of those and it didn’t turn out well.  See, for me to really be good, I need to get into fantasy, or at least something with a bit of unrealness to it.  I just can’t do real life.

Suggestive Amusements was like that.  One of the classical muses comes to Las Vegas and helps out a struggling writer and all is well.  Oh, and there was a bit of a lover’s triangle in there as well and not a bit of sex, either.  I had a lot of fun writing it, coming up with histories for a few of my characters, having my muse characters–and at least one goddess–have conversations, and I used the story to work out some frustrations I had with one job.

I haven’t written anything like that since.

Since 2013 I’ve been preoccupied with a little opus that seems to take up all my writing time.  When I’m not working on the novel I’m doing TV recaps that also keep me pretty busy.  There isn’t time to go back and work on extemporaneous stories that take away from the trials and tribulations of my witchy kids.

And, the reality of writing being what it is, I haven’t even thought about penning another story.

Hold on there…  That’s not exactly true.

Of late there’s been another story bouncing about in my head that is, more or less, completely thought out.  If I actually sat down and wrote it out, it might take me a week to finish and another week to polish.  I thought this particular fantasy erotica story would vanish much like the one before had come and gone over the period of a few days, but no:  it’s still there.  Demanding attention.  Demanding to be let out.

I really don’t want to waste my time with something that I feel is gonna be a diversion of time that can be better spent doing other things, but dammit if this won’t let me go.  Maybe it’s time to admit that there are moments in your life when you have to listen to your muse and take the road not traveled in a while, visit that path, enjoy the sights–

And get a Wattpad account.

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