This was/is to be the cover of a novel I started writing 1 1/2 years ago. I posed for it, even though it’s fictional and not about me.
Then life brought me to a bumpy road shortly after, and I put my book away, where it sits on my hard drive. I intended it to be an erotic novella, but I think it wants to be something else. Erotic, but not a novella. It’s hard to keep the rise and fall of sexual tension going throughout an entire book. Yeah, even in my head.
Erotica lives in my head constantly. Actually, turns out it’s not that weird, only taboo. I’ve always been fascinated by things that aren’t as they seem, people and places that hide an entire underground existence, secret from the unenlightened.
Philosophy is like that, as is music, and science. And certainly sexuality.
I happen to be the personality type represented by less than 1% of the human population (I accept my oddness). I met a woman today who teaches erotic sexuality, and besides being awestruck by the fact that someone actually does that, she has the same personality type as me ~ so immediately she’s a kindred spirit.
Which brings me to my point ~ that I need to stop living in the normal world and wave my freak flag. And keep writing.
PS…I swear, this is a line I just read in “The Winter Over”
At some point, potential had to be realized, or you simply ended where you began: a blank, empty, meaningless frame of white, waiting for effort to give it meaning.
Iden, Matthew (2017-02-01). The Winter Over (p. 58). Thomas & Mercer. Kindle Edition.