Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Coming to the end...

I’m coming to the end of my work in progress now and I have to admit I’m feeling a bit wobbly about it. I’ve lived with these characters for weeks now and I’m going to miss them, damn it. 
It doesn’t help that they’ve already featured in my previous story so they’ve become firm friends of mine. I’m happy to give them their happy ending though, they deserve it after all the crap I’ve put them through :)
I’ve already got a new idea brewing for another story, which is going to be quite a bit darker than the last two, but there are some sexy-times ahead. Hurrah!
I’m wondering how far I can go with this one. I guess it’s always a risk pushing those boundaries, but the story’s just not going to work unless I do. 
Have you ever written anything that’s scared the bejesus out of you? If so, did you get away with it in the end?

Thursday, 14 June 2012

Writing as an aphrodisiac

So I guess it's about time I wrote another blog post. It’s been a while...
The reason I’ve been so quiet here is because I’ve been writing. A story that is. It’s the sister story to the one I’ve just finished and runs parallel - showing the other characters’ viewpoints of the action at some points and going off on their own tangent at others. It’s been a lot of fun to write, not least because it’s VERY sexy. I mean, it has a LOT of sex in it. 
These are the sort of stories I love to write. I adore the feeling of entering into someone else’s very private sex-life without the fear of being outed as a peeping Thomaseeta. 
The really great thing about it - and my husband will testify to this - is that it makes me very horny. Not something you expect to feel when you’ve been looking after three young children all day. 
There was a really great guest-post a day or so ago by Ruthie Knox talking about how she needs writing to keep her life exciting and fresh for her when she’s looking after her child or working through the tougher parts of her day job. I can totally relate to this. I went through a period after my third child was born when I felt like I had nothing left of ME in me. Everyone wanted a piece and there weren’t even scraps left behind. Even now, between the nappy-changing and the constant round of making food and clearing up the debris, it’s very easy to be swamped by it all. So I escape into my writing, and you know what? I think it makes me a better mother. I’m more excited to play with my children, to listen to their outrageous claims and questions and to allow myself to enjoy being with them, because I know there’s more to me than just being a mum. I have a secret life of my own completely apart from real life and all the challenges it brings. 
So the mojo is back with a vengeance, and long may it stay. 
Any thoughts?