Last night, on my way home from work I stopped off at my
local liquor store for a bottle of scotch. The manager, Frank, and I had become
friends over the years and discussed all manner of things from the weather, new liquors, to the
uncertain habit of some whiskey distillers to use “flavored” oak casks to
create new versions of their product.
We also talk about my writing.
I haven’t published anything in a loooong time. But a few
things are still up and kicking in the Internet archives including Not Having Sex
of which I am inordinately proud. Frank asked for the website again and it
reminded me…
A year ago last week I wrote a short story on spec for a
compilation of stories about sexy villains. It was accepted a few months
later. A few months after that I received my contract. The next month I sent it
back… and then, nothing.
So much nothing I put the prospect of publishing again out
of my head. I’d had hoped that selling something would light a fire under my
writing but my day job world had exploded and I no longer had the energy to
focus on my writing life.
Then last night, after mentioning the story to Frank I went
home, picked up my mail, and like magic there was my contract and a check!
My erotic writing has been on life support a long time, so
many things have happened, changed, and shifted in my life, that I don’t know
where to place my feet. It isn’t that I haven’t been writing, but I haven’t
been telling stories. My current writing style is more therapy than craft.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I’ve
come to the bend in the road. I do feel, once again, the need to place my
thoughts out for the world to see, to explore sex, relationships, and writing.
But I am no longer who I was. We never are – we are, as a wise man said, “the
sum of our experiences”, and I do not yet know where they are leading me.
~ Licks!
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