round and around

[hmmnmm]

I've always been interested in erotica. Fascinated at the abillity to create such delicious images and feeling and scenes with words. So a few years ago I wanted to see about doing some of my own, found Lit, found it was a lot harder to do than I expected. But it was that challenge that attracted me even more. Then a couple years ago I thought, 'nah, forget it, you're no writer of erotica.'

But it's always somewhere in the background, the interest and curiosity. So I browsed through some old files of stuff i had here once upon a time - some ain't horrible, all need work, a few still spark my interest. Been sketchin and pecking at some newer stuff.

But then the other day I found an old novel online called 'Beatrice' supposedly from the Victorian era but lately considered to be a more recent work, like from the 60s or 70s and written by a man instead of the so-persuasively-written female narrative. I've since been disheartened, because I can't imagine getting to that level. To even come close to something like 'Beatrice' or the stuff from Doc Mabeuse.....

but the interest or passion keeps coming back. It's always there. So I'm going in mad circles - fix up some old stuff, work on new, submit them and see how it goes, or forget about it.

I guess that's what keeps the attraction alive, because well-done erotica, is really hard to do - for me it is. Then there's the aspect of, if I ever someday write some really worthy erotica, to be able to say so to friends and family: yeah I like to write sex stories or stories with sex. Eroticism fascinates me like nothing else. There ya go.

I see there's the Winter Holidays contest going. Think the deadline is too near to come up with anything. Maybe Valentine's.

 

[English Lady]

*hugs* to hmmnmm! Good to see you hun, Erotica seems to have us all in it's grasp x

 

[hmmnmm]

*hugs* to hmmnmm! Good to see you hun, Erotica seems to have us all in it's grasp x

Oodles and bunches of super duper hugs back to you!

Took the metro uptown and walked back a-ways. Cold air numbed my fingers but in a way it felt pretty good. Good brisk walk. Feel better now.

Yeah there's something about once you try to write erotica, it's hard to pull all the way out, or to stay out, or at least not glance back from whence the pull-out was once stuck.

Even when I hit that bump and thought I just wasn't cut out to write erotic stories, when I'd try to write something completely non-erotic, you know, on my own, just for fun, somewhere along way a well or two of sex fluids end up getting tapped, and they want to bubble up and froth. But then when I sit down to consciously write a sex story, it always seems to veer off into a ditch. Or gets bogged down. Or worse. It's a challenge.

 

[Feotakahari]

But then when I sit down to consciously write a sex story, it always seems to veer off into a ditch. Or gets bogged down. Or worse. It's a challenge.

It's not impossible to turn that to your advantage. I've read plenty of stories that began as erotic, then trolled the reader, and some of them were actually quite clever about it. Multiplication (warning: horrible distortion of the human body) is your best possible inspiration if you're willing to get kinky, but even if you're more romantic, there are still options available to you.

 

[hmmnmm]

It's not impossible to turn that to your advantage. I've read plenty of stories that began as erotic, then trolled the reader, and some of them were actually quite clever about it. Multiplication (warning: horrible distortion of the human body) is your best possible inspiration if you're willing to get kinky, but even if you're more romantic, there are still options available to you.

Well for me it's been less the content (I'm not easily offended but I also appreciate the romantic - I like it all), but more the presentation. Or what it means to have a real, completed story (or a poem).

I've a terrible tendency to overwrite. A few wonderful people around here tried to help me in that regard but I either didn't quite get it or part of me resisted because I wrote in a way that was comfortable and I used that as weak rationale to avoid addressing these issues.

Just yesterday things clicked. Only took about seven years. Little slow, me. Molasses-brained tortoise. I mean I saw what I was doing wrong. Why the ditches and bogs. Instead of reading like real stories they were more like drafty notes to self, or in-process search for the story or a story, and I'd get lost on tangents, like doodles and scribbles. Trying to figure out what's happening or what things look or smell or feel like. And I would submit those works as stories. Instead of taking the time to get more clarity and certainty about what's happening or what things smell like, feel like, look like..... and then once having that clarity, putting them into clear and vivid sentences (or lines).

But now I've got a much clearer view as to how to address those problems. Grabbed a random file and messed around with cutting and snipping and tightening. Colors and sounds and textures and even personalities that were buried in weeds and fat started to pop out. Ended up a nightlong, 'ahhh! I see! finally I see!'

Very exciting. All jazzed up now. Still have a lot of work ahead. Lots and lots of fat to trim and weeds to pull.