Anais? Anais?

I just came from The Fish Tank (see Links), and there were comments that my piece (so far in fragments) reminded readers of Anais Nin. I was speechless. That means that there is definitely something to work with here.

Be patient with me as I work it out.

Taking it All In

I just came from The Fish Tank (see Links), and I am digesting what was there, which I will not discuss until I can reply which is another four days...

...in the meantime

She felt like O in The Story of O.
Except she was sitting beside him in her underwear in the taxi.
He was not saying anything to her ar all.
She did not know where he lived, so she watched Manhattan fly by her.
Then water.
They were over the bridge.
She looked at him once.
He was staring straight ahead, his lashes filled with light.
She wanted to know what was going on inside him.
But then she wanted to play the game too.
She was confused.
Sex was never a game or a theater exercise for her.
She was not sure what she was going to do.
What she was expected to do.
But she knew that she wanted to be here.

Back to the Fish Tank

I just posted what I have been working on here on the Fish Tank (see my Links in case you are not familiar), so now I know I mean business. I know they will let me know what I have been doing all this time, and feed me with good suggestions and notations...

Crime and Punishment

"So you mean to tell me that you lied about reading the book?"
She looked at him stunned.
"So I lied to get you into bed--I mean the bathroom. Sometimes a girl has got to do what a girl's got to do."
"Well I never not finish reading a book..."
She remained stunned.
If he was upset that she lied about reading the book, could she continue on with a man who stickler like a schoolteacher?
"So I guess you always finished reading a book when assigned in school?"
"Yes, and I am a schooltecher for real. You did not know that about me, did you? And I always punish students who lie about finishing books..."
Her face was scarlet.
She knew this was going to be some kind of role playing scenario which scared her.
She was not sure that she wanted to be punished.
But she was not sure either that she could resist the desire to run her fingers and scratch the glass of the microscopic glasses he was wearing either.
"Well maybe I am a rebel. Maybe I don't want to be punished."
He grabbed her upper arm.
"You don't make the rules here missy--come along. You are going to the dean's apartment.
"But--"
"Nothing...But nothing"

Dirty Little Secret

Want to hear a dirty little secret?

I'm back after the holiday break, and I am thinking to myself, what am I going to do with the piece that I have been working on? Stopped dead cold because I could not think of a book that would have been the book that I wanted to put in the piece.

So I stopped writing, my operation was shut down because I could not find the perfect book!

Isn't that the nature of writers--perfectionist ones like myself who cannot get a word down on the page without judging? And hadn't I decided I was not going to do that post NaNo?
So I shall continue:

"How far along are you in the book," he asked her.

Sugar was on the book from the table and her fingers.

"I have not even started it yet," she turned to him in the middle of the street.

"But you were telling me about it in the cafe..."

She raised her eyebrows, and licked her lips, as he looked at her defiantly.

"I skimmed it."

Not a Resolution, A Vow

I can use everyone else's excuse, that it is the holidays...

...but in the new year it is down to business for me and this blog and my writing.


"So what else is in your library?" he says rubbing against her in a way that would have been offensive if they had not just come out of that bathroom.

If they had not just come.

"So you read place book here--have you read place book here?"

He scratches his head, looks at her.

"Does it really matter? I am coming with you."

They walk out of the cafe.

She wipes sugar from still between her fingers.


I need to place books!

One Foot in Front of the Other

...but didn't I learn from NaNo that the thing is just to write?

She wipes sugar off her thighs like sand, and looks at him.
His smile is the kind that could be nice or it could just be that his lips are turned up.

I have a bit of a block and bit of a time limit, but the thing is that I am not going to fool around anymore.

There are stories inside me, I just have to tear them out.

She could not resist raising the grains of sugar that were still on her fingers to her mouth.
She loved the taste of sugar.
And right then she was not sure what was sweeter.
This stranger.
Or the sugar that was dissolving in her mouth as she debated.

The Thing Is...

So I finished NaNo. I am proud.

But I have not been able to determine my relationship to this blog and erotica. It is still the medium that I love more than anything, but I have not been able to write anything erotic.

I was asked by a friend do I write erotica? I absolutely do, and read it too. But I have not been able to work with the medium...

I am not sure when was the last time I felt inspiration...

...but didn't I learn from NaNo that the thing is just to write? So shall conjure the continuation to the last fragment I wrote?

She wipes sugar off her thighs like sand, and looks at him.

NaNo, NaNo

I was working on NaNo--and I am proud to say that my word count is such that I should be posting a NaNo winner poster on my blog shortly.

I'll be blogging then, and visiting the Fishtank more often too...

...maybe even expounding more on that story I was working on when I started this blog.

Untitled

I am just coming off of Library Thing, and the oddest thing--my last post was an unintentional story beginning. I am posting what I wrote and hoping to expound upon it some fine day:

A man and a woman meet in a cafe. He asked her for sugar. She reaches over, hands packets to him. In handing it to him, his fingers are the softest thing she has ever touched she thinks to herself. Goes back to her coffee. The man touches her again inadvertently because he is interested in the book she is reading. The texture of the book and her hand contrast to him. He rubs the sugar off of his fingers as they discuss her copy of place book here... The same man and woman meet. She whispers in his ear she has a type of sugar she would like to offer him privately. They go into the cafe bathroom, have sex in every possible way.