Does everyone have a story to tell? I think so. At least that is what they will tell you. I recently was treated to a day at the spa for my birthday. It was lovely and just what I needed to reenergize. Normally, a massage is a peaceful relaxing and quiet moment of bliss. This time it was quite a different experience.
For the first time I had a male masseuse. When he asked what I do for a living I decided to tell him. "Oh," he said "one of ‘those’ writers!" He then proceeded to tell me about a story he wanted to write, portraying George Takei as a gay ninja. I listened to his take and then I suggested he create a comic book. "Oh, well, maybe…Ask anyone and they will tell you about an idea for a story but most will never do it. Writing is a pleasure but it does require effort.
The rest of the massage was spent tossing around ideas and laughing through his thinly disguised innuendo about body parts. If you met a doctor, you might mention your aches and pains, a mechanic; your car troubles. So it goes with the territory of being an erotica writer, that baudy humour often follows. I used to be more guarded with whom I shared my profession of choice, but I have tasted the freedom of being me and I am not going back. Meeting my sister in the lobby afterward she asked, "What kind of massage did you have? Everyone in the spa could hear you guys laughing." "The best kind," I replied. For a little while, I laughed, I relaxed, I forgot about my obligations and I enjoyed being me.
For the first time I had a male masseuse. When he asked what I do for a living I decided to tell him. "Oh," he said "one of ‘those’ writers!" He then proceeded to tell me about a story he wanted to write, portraying George Takei as a gay ninja. I listened to his take and then I suggested he create a comic book. "Oh, well, maybe…Ask anyone and they will tell you about an idea for a story but most will never do it. Writing is a pleasure but it does require effort.
The rest of the massage was spent tossing around ideas and laughing through his thinly disguised innuendo about body parts. If you met a doctor, you might mention your aches and pains, a mechanic; your car troubles. So it goes with the territory of being an erotica writer, that baudy humour often follows. I used to be more guarded with whom I shared my profession of choice, but I have tasted the freedom of being me and I am not going back. Meeting my sister in the lobby afterward she asked, "What kind of massage did you have? Everyone in the spa could hear you guys laughing." "The best kind," I replied. For a little while, I laughed, I relaxed, I forgot about my obligations and I enjoyed being me.
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