I get emails all the time asking me if my writing is real or if it is just fictional imaginings from a fruitful mind. I really have to say that I'm not a fiction sort of girl and I revel in stories and remembrances of things that have actually happened.
I would have to say that, no joke, this blog is 92% actual events and 8% fiction.
If you don't count my dabbling in prose and inventive styling, then yes the actual events overwhelm the blind creativity. When I begin to write out a fictional story whose plot-line simmered up in my mind, I'm excited about it and can't wait to type it all out yet when I get to my laptop, the passion for it fizzles out. I feel like there's no sincerity and since my imagination can be so out of control, there doesn't seem to be any reality to it.
I love erotic fiction but I feel like the versions I construct either get too hardcore, too romantic or become too unbelievable. Maybe its just an artist's prerogative to be overly criticizing of their own work, who really knows?
Reality doesn't always have to be boring, so I make my reality worth being written and read and worthy of having a dialog fall all over it. Am I always the sensual social butterfly, certainly not, but if I'm going to go about doing something (sex, art, food, wine) I really have to go all out.
Life and the truth are more important to me and my way of sexuality than any kind of fiction I could invent. Simply stated, my life is sexy enough and my pen is willing enough that I don't often have to dip into just my imagination to create a fantasy for other people...and all with just my day to day.
I would have to say that, no joke, this blog is 92% actual events and 8% fiction.
If you don't count my dabbling in prose and inventive styling, then yes the actual events overwhelm the blind creativity. When I begin to write out a fictional story whose plot-line simmered up in my mind, I'm excited about it and can't wait to type it all out yet when I get to my laptop, the passion for it fizzles out. I feel like there's no sincerity and since my imagination can be so out of control, there doesn't seem to be any reality to it.
I love erotic fiction but I feel like the versions I construct either get too hardcore, too romantic or become too unbelievable. Maybe its just an artist's prerogative to be overly criticizing of their own work, who really knows?
Reality doesn't always have to be boring, so I make my reality worth being written and read and worthy of having a dialog fall all over it. Am I always the sensual social butterfly, certainly not, but if I'm going to go about doing something (sex, art, food, wine) I really have to go all out.
Life and the truth are more important to me and my way of sexuality than any kind of fiction I could invent. Simply stated, my life is sexy enough and my pen is willing enough that I don't often have to dip into just my imagination to create a fantasy for other people...and all with just my day to day.
