Greater Expectations

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AKA Dealing With Reader Disappointment

My writing tends to confuse some people. I do this thing where I write plot, develop characters, create some fantasy elements and suspense and such, and then put a lot of sex in it. Gay sex, at that. For some reason, people get really surprised about the sex, even with my very clear disclaimers. Some actually get pissed off.

I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not going to stop writing sex. I’m not going to stop loving sex. I certainly don’t feel bad for writing sex in an otherwise interesting story. Most of my story plots focus on getting characters to have sex. Flat out. It’s erotica. Still, it doesn’t mean it has to be boring.

I love plot. I love a good story. I usually don’t find much of either in traditional romance novels. Honestly, I don’t really even understand the romance genre. You say fantasy, you get a fair idea of the range of what you’re going to get. Science fiction—you don’t even have to ask. There’s going to be something alien and something techy, no question. Thriller, Mystery, Action Adventure; we’re pretty sure what to expect. Romance. Well… old school Harlequin Romance… Girl meets boy/man and gets swept off feet… Maybe historical, maybe she’s really an assassin, maybe she falls for someone that turns out to be an alien or werewolf.

Romance is a really vague category. Why? Because it’s about a very common aspect of human lives thrown in with a plot. And that plot, although essential to keeping your reader engaged in the story, really exists for only one thing—no matter how much your writer might pretty it up with poetry and fancy imagery—to get your characters to have sex. Oh, they can scream love all they like, but if the characters don’t make out at least once, can you call it a romance novel? Continue reading →

Writer’s Block: Facing the Beautiful Lie

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Why Can’t You Write?

This isn’t about pushing through distractions or even getting shit done for a deadline. This is all about facing those huge blocks, very likely the ones you’ve been facing for months to years, that you can’t get your head around. The ones you’re not even aware you have because you think it’s the sound of the television in the other room or that you need to clean as to why you’re not writing.

So I was recently reading this book about good writing habits to increase word count—because even though I’m writing, I still read about writing to see if I can’t improve what I’m doing. I enjoy the craft of writing as much as the act of it. Even though I choose to write smut. XD I came across this concept that I see a lot, and every time I see it, I cringe and want to throw the computer across the room.

Make writing a habit. Do it every day, the same time, until it’s effortless. Set a time aside, a room aside, and be consistent.

Fuck off, please.

How many people go to the gym at the same exact time every day? How about eat that healthy meal they’re supposed to eat? Brush their teeth? Only watch one hour of tv? Clean the house? You’re ‘supposed to,’ so you’re going to, right? If you’re one of those people that find these sorts of things so easy to create a routine of, this post probably isn’t for you. But if you’re a human being that’s isn’t a machine that doesn’t want to take something creative like writing and put it in a perfectly timed box where you order yourself to ‘create,’ set your peepers here. Continue reading →

Abundance: a double edged sword of too many choices

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Sometimes you have too many choices, too many ideas. It’s actually my biggest problem lately. Actually, it’s one of those problems that have been haunting me my entire life. Please, don’t scoff. This is not out of some backward arrogance to show off or sound cool. I’m not, btw. Cool. I’m a fucking nerd. Artsy, loner, boring as fuck most days. Responsible. Anywho. I’m also really creative. I generate ideas and then I stare at them wondering where to start. It’s a real problem.

Before I was writing, I was facing the reality that my brain can pretty much take on any task well enough that I could succeed and likely make a living—If I didn’t have a mental break from the stress of whatever chosen career I followed. Used to sing professionally. Used to digitally paint professionally. Wouldn’t even need to be in the creative field—I can tear apart a job, organize it to simple steps and take on just about anything. With full blown Lyme I created a business model to make my own limited edition sculptures with short graphic novels tied in to the characters. They were fucking adorable little wax sculps and designs currently sitting on my shelf because I went a different path.

Skill is not enough. It sucks, but it’s true. You need more than a talent to succeed at a job. I could probably teach people how to write, sing, and paint and be pretty damn good at it because I like nurturing people. But I wouldn’t be able to handle it as a long term job. Why? I can’t handle being around people too long. Loner. Anxiety. So easily sucked into other people’s lives because of those empathetic synapses that I use to mirror and understand the interesting people around me while I try to stay afloat and self-contained. It was too difficult to be myself when my body used to be a musical instrument. Too painful to extract myself from my paintings to draw what other people wanted. Too fucking boring to do the same thing every day, my mind left to dull and grow dim even when it was creative. Human interaction/success/money isn’t enough for me. I need the creative growth to know I’m alive. It’s probably some unhealthy addiction but it’s the way I’m wired. And some days, weeks, months it just plain sucks.

I’m going to give you a list of what I’m dealing with on the writing front. I’ll follow up with some of my action plans that have worked. I’m sort of hoping this article is going to help me figure out my shit today because I’m flighty as fuck and can’t settle on a story. Continue reading →