I’ve noticed that a great many bloggers add a few little tidbits atop their posts. Rather like scene setting, and as a writer I can appreciate that. Well here’s the scene:
ANTI-SILENCE SOLUTION: ROCKET QUEEN/Guns N Roses
JAVA PRESCRIPTION: Sumatra Mandeheling; with peppermint and chocolate
LAST NIGHT’S BLISS POSITION: On top
Well, really, have you seen some of the things people advertise? People admit to listening to Barry Manilow? No, I’m kidding. I actually ripped him off when the kids were little. I’d sing a version of Copa Cabana while changing diapers. Instead of ‘At the Copa, Copa Cabana’ my version went: ‘At the poop-a, poop-a-stinky…’
So. Yeah. That’s the kind of weirdness you will find here. Interspersed with some more serious thoughts, of course. Like….
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I write, market conditions, readers, why my muse seems to be whoring around. Not to offend said muse of course, perhaps I am not listening fully or maybe my skills are not up to the task and she’s kind of using me as a sounding board. Like, if I approve of the idea, she expounds on it and takes it to someone who is more established in the market and leaves it in their capable hands to distribute. Well, I intend to raise the bar. Out there, in the writing community, the competition is stiff, and no I don’t mean only in the smut market. (pun intended)
Let me digress here…
Smut. I like the word smut. I like it much better than porn. Ever been to the grocery store and seen that glow-in-the-dark looking genetically crossed version of broccoli and cauliflower? (yes, I’m digressing on my digression) Brociflower or something? Some geek sat in a lab and said, “I can create a new vegetable with better taste and more vitamins!” Then he wrung his hands greedily and giggled. Well, when I hear the word porn, I think of some mad scientist/genetic physicist deciding to cross peas and corn. Then I see, in my vivid mind’s eye, rows of this tall, willowy stalk topped with a version of corn that looks like peas lined up. Not an ear, not a pod. A poar? An ead? A perd? I mean if you ask, “Pass me an ear of porn, please,” there’s no telling what would end up in your hands. (Pun very much in tended again.) Or in your ear.
So, as you can see, the word smut allows me to not get lost on silly little tangents. Wait…is smut a smurf slut? Do the natives who live on the little island in the south pacific where the marshmallow plants grow…do they make s’mores and live in smuts?
I think the muse gives me nibbles of ideas because she’s messin’ with me.
So where did I start all of this…yeah, market/readers. I have to write the stories that I’m inspired to tell; I can’t write to the market. BUT. But I can look at what is selling, look at what I’ve written, and examine for ways to enhance what I already have to be more saleable. It would seem that deepening character relationships by exploring their sexual natures is really intrinsic. Previously I felt it was private aspects of their life I didn’t need to know about and I didn’t want to share my private aspects either. If you read the top of this post, clearly you see that’s over. In the paragraphs of a book, we are intimate with these characters…they are often in our bed, lounging on the couch with us, laying by the pool, maybe in the tub with us. Why shouldn’t that work both ways?
Who else is out there, who dares read this, and has jumped a hurdle in their writing and noticed a change? Did that first credit make you more confident? Did the editor teach you something valuable? Do share.