Dita Parker
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I shall not want
I have
a root cellar full of summer
firewood
pens and paper
pens and paper
a fresh laptop battery
stories to write
books to read
women I can call at three in the morning
a good man to sleep next to through the night
a niece on the way
children to cherish
the use of all my senses
a sense of direction
strong legs
hopes
hope
laughter in me yet
freedom and rights
responsibilities
Friday, August 26, 2011
Sensible shoes
...day five. So far so good, dearest denizens. Had to scrub poor WIP of an entire scene but it couldn't be helped. It's not that it was bad, it was just...superfluous. So if you're writing an erotic romance of the paranormal variety starring a daredevil hero (not to be confused with Matt Murdock) and an immortal heroine (a vamp, yes, but not a vampire) and you're missing a scene, call me, I think it accidentally ended up in my book. I also found out something very interesting about my leading man, information he hadn't volunteered but has fessed up.
I'm in the process of teaching myself plotter ways. Why? To help the pantser in me write faster, more efficiently. (I thought age was supposed to bring you poise and patience. I swear maturing is munching on mine. That's why.) What else? Yes. I think it's time we had The Talk, several, actually. So I won't have another Romantica out for a while. It doesn't mean we can't still talk about sex. Let's face it, erotic romance writers spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about it, especially when writing those climactic scenes, no pun intended. Okay, totally calculated.
It's not just a matter of what goes where at what pace courtesy of who for us. Reducing a person to their reproductive organs in action is pornography, and we'd rather our characters feel and not just fuck, think, and not just about doing it, and be proactive instead of submissive, unless it's BDSM (safe, sane and consensual!). At least that's what erotic romance is and means to me, so how about we talk about some of the things that have inspired me to write Romantica, things I often think about when writing.
I'm not an educator by profession, but anyone who's ever suffered through one of my sermons here at the den knows I can be one by inclination, so I do solemnly swear I'll do my best to keep things light and on the fun side, because I believe that sex, like life, is, for the most part, fun, sweet, intense, and enjoyable. And when it's problematic, you go in search of answers and solutions, and when there are none, you find a way to live with it. Preferably without losing your sense of humor. Let's keep it honest and true to life then, but let's sin with a grin. And no euphemisms allowed unless they're the topic of the day, okay?
My take, to be taken with a pinch of salt, as you would anything else that smells suspiciously like advice. So...if you're not sure you're comfortable talking about certain parts of the human anatomy outside a purely fictional context, you may a) have stumbled upon this blog by accident, b) not want to participate. Especially after I tell you there won't be any tests but I'm thinking some homework might be in order, and maybe a poll or two at some point. But if you are insecure about and/or uncomfortable with some parts, any part, really, of your body (and show me someone who hasn't been at some point in their life), it wouldn't hurt anything to come over and hear what I have to say on the subject because that's where I think we should start, where the enjoyment of sex, and lack thereof, stems from: your body and how you view it, treat it, think of it.
I'm in the process of teaching myself plotter ways. Why? To help the pantser in me write faster, more efficiently. (I thought age was supposed to bring you poise and patience. I swear maturing is munching on mine. That's why.) What else? Yes. I think it's time we had The Talk, several, actually. So I won't have another Romantica out for a while. It doesn't mean we can't still talk about sex. Let's face it, erotic romance writers spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about it, especially when writing those climactic scenes, no pun intended. Okay, totally calculated.
It's not just a matter of what goes where at what pace courtesy of who for us. Reducing a person to their reproductive organs in action is pornography, and we'd rather our characters feel and not just fuck, think, and not just about doing it, and be proactive instead of submissive, unless it's BDSM (safe, sane and consensual!). At least that's what erotic romance is and means to me, so how about we talk about some of the things that have inspired me to write Romantica, things I often think about when writing.
I'm not an educator by profession, but anyone who's ever suffered through one of my sermons here at the den knows I can be one by inclination, so I do solemnly swear I'll do my best to keep things light and on the fun side, because I believe that sex, like life, is, for the most part, fun, sweet, intense, and enjoyable. And when it's problematic, you go in search of answers and solutions, and when there are none, you find a way to live with it. Preferably without losing your sense of humor. Let's keep it honest and true to life then, but let's sin with a grin. And no euphemisms allowed unless they're the topic of the day, okay?
My take, to be taken with a pinch of salt, as you would anything else that smells suspiciously like advice. So...if you're not sure you're comfortable talking about certain parts of the human anatomy outside a purely fictional context, you may a) have stumbled upon this blog by accident, b) not want to participate. Especially after I tell you there won't be any tests but I'm thinking some homework might be in order, and maybe a poll or two at some point. But if you are insecure about and/or uncomfortable with some parts, any part, really, of your body (and show me someone who hasn't been at some point in their life), it wouldn't hurt anything to come over and hear what I have to say on the subject because that's where I think we should start, where the enjoyment of sex, and lack thereof, stems from: your body and how you view it, treat it, think of it.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Always on my mind
Dear Work In Progress,
It's me, Writer In Progress. I know you really hate me right now, and that makes me hate myself. I know our rendezvous have been few and far between this summer. You feel ignored. I feel as if I've been neglecting you. But I said I'd be back, that we would be together again soon, that I had every intention of finishing what I started, so you'll just have to get over your wounded pride, and I'll have to get over my guilt and shame.
Had I thought there was no hope for us, I would have told you so, months ago. Thing is, I still believe. I did then and I do now, and if you believe, as I do, that what we had has anywhere to go, we put this...not trial separation but trial by separation behind us right here and now and pick up where we left off last time we met.
I can't promise there'll never be another summer like this, but please, pleeease understand I also needed time to think things over. Not to decide if I want to do this, but how I'll go about it. And you were never far from my mind, you know that. You were always there, startling me with realizations, sneaking up on me with revelations, so if we're cool, if you believe in me as I believe in you, how about we go that last stretch? The longest miles, yes, but the most rewarding, too, I swear.
I'll treat you right. You know I will. I'll take care of you, see you get what you're due. What do you say? Tomorrow, bright and early and ready to rumble? I say it's a date.
It's me, Writer In Progress. I know you really hate me right now, and that makes me hate myself. I know our rendezvous have been few and far between this summer. You feel ignored. I feel as if I've been neglecting you. But I said I'd be back, that we would be together again soon, that I had every intention of finishing what I started, so you'll just have to get over your wounded pride, and I'll have to get over my guilt and shame.
Had I thought there was no hope for us, I would have told you so, months ago. Thing is, I still believe. I did then and I do now, and if you believe, as I do, that what we had has anywhere to go, we put this...not trial separation but trial by separation behind us right here and now and pick up where we left off last time we met.
I can't promise there'll never be another summer like this, but please, pleeease understand I also needed time to think things over. Not to decide if I want to do this, but how I'll go about it. And you were never far from my mind, you know that. You were always there, startling me with realizations, sneaking up on me with revelations, so if we're cool, if you believe in me as I believe in you, how about we go that last stretch? The longest miles, yes, but the most rewarding, too, I swear.
I'll treat you right. You know I will. I'll take care of you, see you get what you're due. What do you say? Tomorrow, bright and early and ready to rumble? I say it's a date.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
My blueberry night
Temperature: 17.5/63.5
Eating: Greek yogurt and blueberries
Drinking: no, eating
Watching: North & South (BBC, 2004)
Listening: to the theme (see above) in all its variations playing in my head
Reading: God has left the details
Writing: from a Romantica reader's POV, I'm pretty worthless at the moment, I've been informed. *sigh* What are friends for, right? Thank you, ma'am, may I have another? *groan*
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