Working on my working on

It's difficult to get back into writing. I am starting to rediscover the discipline I had when I was churning out words between tweets and Reddit nastygrams.

Nearly dying has a way of concentrating the mind - if it doesn't simply reset the damn thing.

That's what it was for me; a hard reset. Two years passed as I focused on regaining my brain and the thing my wife considered more important - not dying.

I have been reliably informed that will be a life-long challenge.

I am reassured and terrified that my fearsome intelligence matters not a whit to her. Well, maybe a bare whit. But I was nearly whitless and she didn't seem to care. I love her a bunch more than all the way to the top, now.

Now that I've got my sense back, I've been rummaging through what I'd managed to write before that and some of it can manage to stand alone. I've sent some of that over to Wattpad. I'm just getting my name out, experimenting and trying to read the room without getting my ego crushed; I'm not really worrying about money, but I'd really love feedback.

Be gentle, I'm really out of practice.

If I start worrying about money, all my piles are gonna fall over. Again.

The thing that I wasn't doing before my heart attack was publicity of any kind at all. I think maybe three people knew I was writing anything. I'm not sure how many knew it was adult fiction. As in, fiction intended for grownups.

I don't like saying it's erotic, although it is, in spots. I think.

It's not porn, either, although there are spots that are damn well intended to be pornographic. Outside of those specific chapters and scenes, my characters tend to say "fuck" an awful lot, or words to that effect. The net result is that I have to keep my work away from Mormons, Baptists and Mike Pence.

But with some exceptions, my work isn't really about the kinks my characters have. Kinks are just part of what makes the characters. I don't write around the grownup things grownups do, I think that's kind of toxic. I don't go out of my way to set up cameras in their boudoirs, either. What I try to avoid is the sort of writing that's completely focused on the reader's fixations.

I know that my work will get tossed in the same bin with the foot fetishists, the buttsex folks and of course, my favourite - femsubs. It's probably going to annoy people who are simply looking for a posh wank. I'm sorry, there's nothing wrong with that, but I'm not going to write it.

I am pleased that people will have a bin to find it in! Maybe they might enjoy something that's a bit more than a three-orgasm pander. And at the same time I hope that I can write something that contains three worthwhile orgasms!

Sex scenes are hard! It's easier to write space battles!

My writing is about ethics; mostly personal ethics. Sexual ethics are pretty important in this #metoo world; far more than I ever realized. I have enjoyed the male privilege that led to a life that was mostly free of unsolicited gropes and dick picks. But it was only mostly free. Yep, #metoo.

Nonetheless, we don't want to become grim, joyless and unlaid. At least, not those of us that are on skin terms with decency. That's how the next generation of decent people come to be, and trust me, they struggle in a home filled with perps, perves and pearl-clutching prudes. I hope I can encourage people to avoid being any of those things. Will Sex Sell Ethics? Buy my books and see!

Here's the forward from Alicia's Long Weekend, which is all about Alicia's very odd and interesting kinks.

All my characters have kinks. That's how I learn who they are and to a large extent what they will and will not do.

The more important they are to the story, the more I have to know about them. As I write I find myself deep into large chunks that I know will have to be cut; pages becoming paragraphs.  

This is the largest so far. At nearly 19,000 words, I cannot possibly leave it in and it's far too much character development for a supporting character. I am fond of her,  but not so fond that she can take over the story! And now I sense that would actually horrify her.

That does sound a little mad, doesn't it?

I often argue with my characters and lose. For instance, I thought there were much better things to be doing than to write "The Harlequin Box." It was originally a short diversion for another novel entirely. It was intended to be a short story - something like "A Deserving Victim."

The original novel is sitting on a virtual shelf now. I lost that argument and a certain flat-chested redhead has been on a mission ever since. Winning has a price, I remind her with a virtual towel-snap when her interest flags.

In other words – yes, there will be more.

Eventually, I will invite you to read the entire story.

When?

Gawd. Don't YOU start!