Butterfly of Some Sort

Even though I have not been blogging, and feeling guilty--you can take the girl out of Catholic school but you cannot take the Catholic school out of the girl. It was reading someone else's blog and finding this, which I now display on my sidebar that might not make me think it is a sin not to blog as much as I maybe would like.

Not blogging, made me oblivious to this saga. It is nice to be in a cocoon sometimes, but still interesting to see what is going on in the world.

I have been working on my psychologically terse, but finally becoming erotic piece. My characters are there. This is the part where it gets fun. The best part of reading the novels I like to read are to read the "dirty" bits. In the case of writing the novel, it is best to write the dirty bits. As well as to create the psychology that makes the dirty bits necessary.

Off I go to my cocoon again, to emerge as a butterfly of some sort...of creativity...of negativity...of something with something more to say...soon...

No Split Here...

I was delighted beyond delight to find Kristina Lloyd's Split in the bookstores as promised. It was released in the UK earlier, but I just bought my copy and the first page was fabulous! I feel lucky to have discovered an author that inspires me, as I work on my own novel. One of my friends is working on her own opus, and it is another inspiration.

A good book in my hands and a story on the burner--can the new year have begun any better?

Red Underwear and No Resolutions

I am wearing red underwear today. In Spain, people wear red underwear for good luck, one of my friends who lives in Germany tells me. So I am today--why not?

I have a new story idea that might be the one! I am very inspired by the darkness and eros that are swirling in me to produce this hopeful charm.

I do not believe in resolutions, but I do want to write more as my mother who I lost this year (in body) wanted me to. It's funny, I started the year with her and end it without her. Part of me wants to hang onto the year because she lived in it...another part wants the promise of a new year with less sorrow.

Either way, Happy New Year, and here's to a lot more blog posts. Sometimes I am lazy!

Insulation

Finished NaNo but as usual, my new passion is a new piece I am working on. I know it is a reflection of me not being able to follow through. But at least the passion for it will fill me a bit. This is my first Christmas without my mother and there is a draft inside me. My creativity is a bit of insulation for me. It is the thing that warms me when I feel cold inside. Not every bit of creative thought comes from a cold place in me, but when it does it warms me, revitalizes me that I can reconstruct everything that happens to me.

This story is a new theme for me. A spin off from the themes in my NaNo novel, very dark and at the bottom of Pandora's Box. Opened it and like a yoga pose, my head down to the bottom to get up every last bit of what I should not have even known. For this story, I have to be fearless. It is getting easier and easier for me to be so...

Finished!

I completed NaNo at the witching hour. I have never been opposed to being a witch!

So this novel took me to some dark places and let me feel the hum of recurring themes of mine that were lurking in some of my places all along.

I have discovered the mind might try to hide, but the body will not or vice versa. The things that fascinate us are part of us. Just beneath the skin, or right on the surface.

I finished the novel, but I opened Pandora's box and I am not afraid...

Whew

At the mid point of NaNo, at 25000 words I can say whew, and what a sigh of relief, almost like a bath in rose petals while it is still warm. I won last year, and am on the fast track this year. I have been reading and writing nonstop erotica so I am infused with it like a good flavored vodka. It was reading a lot of Black Lace novels two by Kristina Lloyd who I raved about in several previous posts that inspired me to go out of my comfort zone with erotic writing. I was talking to a male friend of mine who is pretty unshockable, and when I told him one of the ideas I was toying with he told me it was DAMN NASTY. I was kind of startled by that, but shocking him encouraged me to shock myself more. When you have to finish a 50000 word novel you do not have time to censor. I will let you know who I am December 1...

Alive

That is the ultimate sensation inside me. I am alive, when my mother died I was not so sure I would be. But I am here, on the shore of what is the ocean of me. I am connected, I am cohesive, I make sense. I sustain myself.

I have been writing like mad, one of my friends every time he comes near me he creates a story inside me. I am nursing one of those, and a woman I met today--a sock fetishist--raved to me about socks that she got from Barcelona. Does anyone love socks that much?

How is the world so filled with life and stories, and I am such a procrastinator? Am I surviving or barely making it as a writer? Well maybe the ideas are alive in me. I read my astrological chart and it says I am due for much success in my middle age. I am not quite there yet...

Smell The Daisies

Finished Darker Than Love. I love to read people who inspire me and stretch my mind as a writer. Kristina Lloyd is so daring and creative erotically! Fearless! Maybe there is some karma granted from reading her novels for my own writing. I have a degree in Creative Writing, but the true lessons in writing is reading and loving what you read. You in turn learn to love what you write, or write what you love.

One of my friends just submitted an erotic story for an anthology, and was like Leonore, you should try doing that! What a novel idea! Me writing! Submitting!--there is a double entendre there, yes?

I am definitely game for doing this very thing. Writing! Submitting! Stay tuned...Right now, I am reading and letting ideas churn. Taking time to stop and smell the daisies until they are blurred...

Black Lace

I just bought a copy of Kristina Lloyd's Darker Than Love, and dropped everything I was reading to start and finish it. She was a pleasant discovery of mine in a favorite used bookstore, when I found Asking For Trouble. If you have not already, drop everything and pick up one or the other! She is the kind of author I read once, and become a devotee. I was like this with Emma Holly and M. J. Rose before her...

Skin Story

I met a woman who participated in this. I am not sure how long it has been going on, but I am tempted to become part of it! The woman I met had a bevy of tattoos, but this one stood out to me as a writer. I went on the site, and discovered that one of the requirements is that you have to use a standard font for the tattoo, which underscores again why I was so drawn to the lovely tattoo. I love to play with fonts, but all of the books that we read are in classic fonts. I am not going to tell you what word she had on her, but is it not fascinating to imagine that all of these people are out in the world and that if they were all put together they would tell a story?

Open to Everything

Three weeks into my yoga practice, I have become a completely different person. Not that I was not mellow, but I am mellower.

I take an anusara yoga class, and my instructor is an artist/yoga instructor who forces us in the most gentle way ever to do more than we think we can. The first week with her I was sore in places I did not know that I could be sore! The following week, I got my leg well close to my shoulder and did not feel a bit of pain. She has a never say never approach, and I just go with the flow. She did a difficult pose, and I said a little bit aloud that I was not going to be able to do that. She said that we were not having a competition, but that we have to be open to at least trying everything.

My body and my mind are open to everything. In terms of my art, I am still tabula rasa, but the new ink is smeared all over my head like henna.

My blogging is like yoga too. I am way past baby steps, I am walking...

Tabula Rasa

Whatever I did, I do not know in terms of what keys I pressed on the computer. All I know is that I lost approximately 10000 words on the novel I have been working on. I was not sure about the direction, so maybe this was a sign, like I have a chance to go back in time and change fate. How many times in your life do you have the chance to go back and change everything? Well writers are a special breed because we are always going back and changing things, but with the kinds of thoughts I was having maybe it is a good thing that I can go back smarter with these characters. I had just begun writing out of sequence, so those pages do not bother me that much, but the pages that led to those hurt me a lot more. I just have to pretend that I have been given a chance to do better and go with it...I cannot stop working on this piece, I have too much personally invested in it...

Lachrymose

Lachrymose, just left MoMA, after seeing Le Notti di Cabiria. I do not want to give away any of the story, but there is a scene with a hypnotist...there is a part where a man says to Cabiria that we all are pure and innocent at heart, that there is romance in all of us--he did not say it like that but that is how I heard it. He said that we wear masks of cynicism. I think we do, we all say that we do not need love but the minute we meet someone who makes us change out minds we are all suckers. I have a cut out piece of paper that reads love makes fools of us all.

I think it does, and that it is the best part of all of us. That love has the ability to take us all out like a two bit gangster. It roughs us up, hangs us over a fish tank with piranhas in it and breaks our bones and hearts. But it is still the thing we all crave and go after blindly. Maybe because I am a violent romantic, but don't we all know it is true?

As long as out of it we can stand on our own two feet and go on like before...

Pink Granny Panties

I did not know it was National Underwear Day until I saw it on the morning news. Let's see, I am peeking...actually my hot pink bra strap is peeking at me. I also know I have on pink granny panties. No thongs for me, I like to feel my butt covered. Cotton too. I love colors and patterns, but cotton and my butt must be covered.

What are you wearing?

Pornology New York

In the span of a few months, I have been bombarded by sex in New York. On the cover of New York magazine, in plays including My First Time and my most recent installment CineKink's Pornology New York.

Everything I see as a writer hopefully contributes to a better understanding and sensibility to me with writing about sex. There was a scene in the CineKink feature that I cannot even describe because I am not sure what the man was doing to his girlfriend, except to say that it really looked painful.

And she loved it even though she cried and was visibly in pain. Pain for her experiencing it and me watching it! But when it was over, he said to her who loves you? She fell into his arms with ease and cried, at which point he was so tender and loving to her. You really have to trust someone in a situation like that. I guess you really need to love them and know that they love you because could it be any less?

How lucky am I to live in a city that is so sexually saturated media wise as an erotic (and romantic!) writer?

Post Rainy Sunday Brunch

Look at me--first I was not posting, now I have two posts in one day!

I had brunch at the Mercer Kitchen, a lovely lamb sandwich and a molten Valrhona chocolate cake that was so delicious that I almost was ashamed to eat it in public. I covered my face with my hand, and could not stop moving my feet out of my flip flops with each forkful.

But I digress--

I was sitting in the dry Mercer Kitchen (wet like crazy outside in New York City even though it was not supposed to be that bad with the threat of thunder storms) next to a man who travels between Miami and New York, and is such a regular there that he kept beckoning the hostess over to talk. Now the interesting part is I saw out of the corner of my eye that he had raised his glass of Fiji water to a woman who was sitting in the adjoining hotel lobby. My mind went crazy, as much of a Francophile as I am I ignored the French woman on my other side who was saying that she had been in New York so long that when she went to France they told her she could not speak French anymore--even as I am planning on going to Paris and am working on my French...I wondered if the man on my other side had had a long standing flirtation with the woman in the lobby? When he raised his glass, she looked at him bewildered. I was not sure if she was nervous or what. I kept an eye on their progress--he seemed to have stopped worrying about her and was talking to the hostess who he asked could he bring dessert and coffee into the lobby? The hostess said that he could only bring coffee. So with a grimace he took coffee solo into the lobby and sat across from the woman there with his cell phone. I actually scooted over in my seat to see what happened. But it was not until I was leaving that I saw the woman sitting lotus posed on the couch laughing with him.

That was a classic scene for an hopeless romantic, wasn't it? Kicked my inner Anais Nin into effect too because Anais was a brilliant diarist and people watcher. I think I have done a pretty good job in this post--oui?

Post Venus in Furs

I have stopped feeling so angry and I am happy to post. I am online working on my novel in progress. Met another writer yesterday who wrote a novel after her mother died and it occurred to me that I have created a thing of love and originality that happened after my mother died.

I can still do it, I will continue to do it. I have been writing like mad. But honestly, my inner Anais Nin has been inhibited. I am not sure what is bringing that on, but I am working to push past it. I can get down and dirty like all of the rest!

I am about to have brunch in the city--so many places around me I have spent part of the morning writing--a pretty sexy scene not physically explicit--maybe verbally explicit?

Definitely!

Maybe settling down with a good meal will make my mind wander...

Have you ever read Venus in Furs? I was reading the first few pages in a used bookstore cafe and was it only me who was laughing my head off? Although it was nice to see Sacher-Masoch instead of de Sade. I wish I had had the nice Klimt cover though!

Rage

Not any happier today...

Gratitude Tuesday

Temper, Temper

My temper reared its lovely head in a piece I wrote and shared with some people. I knew when I wrote this poem I was angry. I mean the words I used made it pretty simple "selfish," "bastard," "you(accusingly)."

But the response that the people who read it had to it made me realize that there was even deeper anger there than I had imagined. I was really mad at this person. The anger had been submerged in my mother's death, but it was deep and came out on the page so that the comments that I got made me reevaluate what I had written.

It was very angry and I am grateful. I will take anger--rage as a muse any day. I wrote my piece with more than a bit of a temper and I allowed for my own therapy and recovery. I began several pieces in poem and prose that are helping me to get even more of this out.

I am not watching my temper...

Gratitude Tuesday

Sustenance

I am writing my first Gratitude Tuesday in a long time. I am grateful today for physical and mental sustenance. Particularly mental. When my mother died, I knew I was going to continue to write, but I was not sure where I would find the inspiration from.

I have been startled to discover I still experience joy, happiness, passion--intense good emotions. I am able to take their sap and use them.

I am also able to utilize my sadness. Writers at the end of the day are leeches, we suck the sap out of every experience, every movement--everything. I have never been ashamed of the things that have inspired me or the things that I have utilized for the sake of art.

It is art at the end of the day, isn't it? Whatever medium. A blog, a novel in progress, the new feelings you have for another person...all of it is art right?

I am grateful...