Faster than a silver bullet

This is my first real blog, beyond my introduction, and I am jittery and nervous. I’m hepped up on a bit too much caffeine and I’m putting myself out there to the world on the first leg of this journey.

I want to warn you first that I may get my foot and mouth mixed up, inserting one in the other, and possibly not in the traditional way, as I type this blog. If you remember from my first post, I’m using this blog to help me get through the writer’s process. So while I might use the occasional forbidden word, banned idea, or strain of pornographic content, for the most part this blog is about the process, not about exposure of my final writing. That might change over time, but today I just need help controlling the rebels in my thoughts.

I’m trying to write and my ideas are all over the place. Should I write a plot first? Or do I just write explosive descriptions of sex? I’m a smart, sexy woman, if a bit homegrown, so it should be no trouble to come up with a great story, sizzling electric, filled with power, coating a grid of captivating players. I want to create exotic brain food. Poisoning the well with inane ideas has me a bit anxious. 

Do I want to blow myself up before I ever get started?, I think to myself, even as my brain is trying to start a story involving a sexy platoon of muscled men from the southwest or maybe the border, arguing with itself whether to place the tale in Juarez, Reyosa or San Diego.

Before I can stop myself to say, ‘Hey, this might be a terrible mistake’, another part of my creativity asks ‘Do they have mountains in Mexico? If so, we can have a love scene in the snow!” “Between the entire Mexican Army?” the first part of my brain sneers sarcastically.

“No! Thats supposed to be a metaphor for hunky models!” The second part shouts, annoyed.

“If they're from Mexico, would their testicles be Mexicles instead of icicles?” The third part muses.

I’m trying to tell the different parts of my brain, busy fighting a creative war, to hush before the argument becomes national. Guard your thoughts, I think to myself.

But the minute I think this, my thoughts quiet down, horrified. They can’t imagine that I would stifle creativity. Before I can relax into the relief of the silence in my mind, sinking into the space to open up the one true religion of creativity, one of those thoughts tentatively whispers.

“Have you learned nothing from NaNoWriMo?”

“Yes,” another one, slightly louder “You’re supposed to let the creativity flow, and then go back and edit the ideas contaminated with stupidity. The third, trying to be helpful, switches topic.

“Would it make it better if we started every scene with a trojan condom to promote safe sex?”

Which instantly brings the image of a Roman in full military armor bearing down on my whole brain, straddling a muscled war horse, his pecs rippling,metal gleaming like fire, his cock wrapped in that famous plastic, gleaming of chemical lubricants. It really is quite swollen and throbbing.

For a second time, my whole brain shuts up for a moment to ponder this image, while crickets chirp in the mental background.

As it evaporates, I sigh in relief. I start again to to try to think of how I should start my first erotic story, when my mind erupts in a volcano of dissent, 2600 voices all shouting about absurdities, direction, and who’s in charge.

Now you can see why I paused to get a little (a lot of) coffee, and ask myself for a little help.

Ironically, though I thought it was a foolish idea, writing it out in this blog makes me wonder if an orgy on a deep night, among a border army, might not actually be a bad story. True, I’m a woman, and it would clearly be a tale written either for men who enjoyed reading about muscled soldiers making love in the hot desert heat and cold snowy mountains, (or women who like those sort of things as I do—my nipples are getting a little hard just thinking about it). But who says I can’t write something from a different gender’s perspective. It just might work. The question is, should I write in enough Trojan condoms to go around for the entire militia? Or is promoting safe sex in erotica just something that's not done because it kills the mood.

Who would have that much rubber and plastic in the mountains anyway?