#Eroticon2015 was a blast and very inspiring. You can read all the details about the conference on the ESB blog here.
Inspiration. The magical fairy dust of productivity. The essential ingredient for creativity. Writing when the planets align and the moon is full. But what about the days you just don’t feel like it? The empty gray days when curling up with a good book seems like a better plan.
Procrastinating, while berating your inner critic to do something more. A lot of prolific writers will tell you, write anyway, and write every day. Even if it is bollocks. So where does the compromise come in to play? In many cases with erotica writers it is not as though your family and core friends will be encouraging you. You have to push through the criticism of your peers, the naysayers and bad reviews until you reach the tough part; silencing your own doubts. Then and only then you can start on a new page
Words have incredible power. Law of Attraction, cosmic reordering, “Ask and you shall receive’… writers block is a real thing. I believe it is a self-fulfilling prophecy rather than a simple blip that has caused your brain to hibernate. The more you think, say, feel- that you are blocked, the more blocked you become.
Inspiration can come in many forms and often it is like any other job, you write or you don’t get paid. We ‘creative types’ like to bemoan the unfairness of that. If I am not at my best then why bother? But once we begin typing something clicks and soon the words are flowing. Not because they have to, but because we have allowed them to.
I have been busy with many other things, but so busy that I could not write? No. I was missing something; the joy and pleasure of setting the words free, but still I waffled. Then I had to do it. A contract due and like the comfort of an old friend you haven’t seen for a while, when you connect it is as you never parted. Writing is a glorious experience and a privilege, but it is also a discipline. With all the discouraging statistics about the financial (or lack of) gains of most writers, you may ask yourself, Why am I doing this? For me the answer is simple, because I must. Because I can. Because I have been given a chance to share my voice with others and if I am able to touch people in a positive way than it is payment enough. Most times.
Inspiration is like a burst of sunshine. It makes you feel good puts a spring in your step, but it is only the beginning. Keep typing.
When collaborating on my latest novel, Practical Research, with Essemoh Teepee, he suggested I choose an image off the web that resembled the character I was envisioning. I had never done that before preferring my own fantasy image. At the time, I did not even know who David Gandy was (shame on me), but I am sure you can see why I was intensely inspired by this image I found on my search.I now cannot see anyone else as the character of Anbu so, keep those acting chops sharp, Mr. Gandy, just in case Hollywood comes a calling.
Here is a brief excerpt from Practical Research to be released next month:
“Callista, I cannot help you, if you don’t let me in. He stood calmly waiting for her to open the door. He was a very patient man.
“No! I mean I’d rather not. I am not decent.”
“Decent? You are dressed, yes? Let me see.”
“Well, yes, it’s just…” there I go fumbling over my words again, for gods’ sakes, when did I go from professional anthropologist to giggling school girl.
“Callista,” he said, gently drawing her name slowly from between his lips. “Let me in.”
Callista stepped back, pulling the door open with her as she moved. She dropped her head and rolled her shoulders forward in an effort to cover herself. Her sun streaked hair fell like a cloud covering her face. The beginnings of surrender.
Anbu looked at her almost submissive posture and a strain of fear raced through him. She was so beautiful and so trusting. For a moment he almost considered letting her go, finding someone else, but that same trust is precisely what would make this project. He fought hard to restrain his erection, but he had been sitting there for what seemed like hours imagining her in the decadent clothing he saw on the mannequins all around him and now, she was there, as though bowed before him.
He placed a finger beneath her chin and waited for her to lift her head. The silky strands of her hair danced across his fingers as she slowly lifted her gaze. Anbu felt a shiver run through him. He knew better than to get personally involved with his projects. Look how that ended up in Africa, he thought ruefully. But this one is stronger, wiser, she is the perfect choice and …her bottom lip was trembling and her eyes were full of emotion. He tried to fathom if it was embarrassment, shame or something else entirely. Anbu wanted to kiss her, but knew the time was not appropriate, perhaps…. that thought was overwhelmed by another. She looked so fucking sexy in that dress. He ran his hand lightly down her tummy feeling the slippery texture of the fabric beneath his palm. It was so tight against her, he felt as though he were touching her skin. He lost the battle with his erection and hissed quietly as the skin stretched taut over the hard length, trapped by the waistband of his shorts.
He took Callista’s arm and turned her toward the mirrors. “Look at how beautiful you are. Like a Greek goddess, truly.”
“Umm,” she said, rolling her eyes.
The simple act of self-deprecation, of automatic denial of worth and deflation of self-esteem, dragged him back to a place he did not want to go. The stinking East African camps where women beaten down by war and famine felt they were less than the filthy soil that was beneath their feet. This woman was not anything like them.
“Don’t ever do that again.” The anger flashed in his eyes and Callista panicked. She was seeing many sides of him today and realized she was putting herself in the hands of a total stranger. The immediate intimacy of their acquaintance had foolishly led her to believe she knew him better than she actually did.
“I am sorry, Anbu. I am not used to being the center of attention. It makes me uncomfortable. I am usually the watcher remember?”
His hand was on her shoulder, his fingers stroking her neck. “Well, you had better get used to it. You are a stunning woman and I am sure that I won’t be the only one telling you that.” Callista closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. Her hunger, the tight dress and Anbu’s close proximity were causing her to lose her equilibrium.
His other hand circled her waist, gripping tightly to hold her steady. She could feel his fingers pressing hard into her flesh and she moaned.
“Callista, stay with me. Are you all right?”
“Mmm, yes, fine. So warm in here.” Her words were lazy and she sank back against his chest.
“Come on, let’s get you out of this dress.” She smiled at the concern in his voice..
“Yes, out of this…” Callista felt his fingers on the zipper. She wanted to protest but it felt so good to have him supporting her trembling frame. He was warm and solid and he smelled delicious. The jagged teeth slowly released their grip on one another as the zip moved down her back. The cool air touched her over-heated skin and the gooseflesh rose on her arms. She could feel the fabric falling away—exposing her, felt his soft fingers against her skin – as though caressing her and she felt the need inside threatening to sweep her away.
His sharp intake of breath as he reached the end of the line tickled at her ear, making her knees give way. Anbu had stopped thinking as his arm went around Callista’s waist to support her. The feel of her smooth skin on his hand against her naked back and the aroma of her overheated body were intoxicating. He spread his fingers wide and stroked down over her lower back, just skimming the cleft of her bottom. Callista could not stop herself from lifting it higher, closer to his touch. His fingers circled back, up along her now arched spine, the caress feather lite and sensual. He slid his index finger under the strap at her shoulder, lifting it momentarily and then paused. Callista felt the cloth of the dress begin to peel away from her breast, the rush of cool air on her nipple making it swell and ache. She wanted him to see her breast, wanted to feel his lips suckle on her nipple and she trembled even more.
Anbu steadied her, and took a step back. Callista opened her eyes and saw the lust in his eyes looking back out of his reflection.
“I am sure you can manage from here. I will leave you to dress and wait for you outside.” His voice was ragged, his posture rigid as he turned and left the intimate space.