Has a favorite place of yours ever closed? Has it ever felt like much more than that? Almost like a turning point in your life? The way, maybe your parents or grandparents always talked about? "Things just aren't the way you used to be... " I hear "the end of a an era" in my head...so cliche...and yet--it's how I feel. I’m sitting in one of my favorite cafes where I often go to grade papers or write. The food is healthy and varied, and I dig the Jazz playing right now, 1920s Great Gatsby stuff, that will soon shift into Frank, the click of the CD changer almost audible. It’s hard not to snap my fingers, but I tap my feet conspiratorily instead. The local art on the wall above my head is so expensive and you’d almost want to blow your money on it if it weren’t so damn ugly! But the sun is so warm through the huge ceiling to floor ceilings that everything seems beautiful. I love this place. I’ve been coming here for years. The owner himself works behind the counter. You’ve got to be in the mood, because if you want to be left alone, it’s not happening until the hugs are doled out and the ‘how-have-you beens’ are answered to satisfaction and you finally find a perfect spot to yourself and wonder why you’ve gone so long between visits. I think I’ll continue to stay here a while, even if the couple next to me hasn't learned to find their ‘inside voices.’ I chose to write here today, because I’m not sure how much longer I will be able to. Word is: It’s closing—can’t compete. I didn’t have the heart to ask. I hear a couple people whispering, but I’m not sure if it’s grumblings or rumors. I hear: “I think they’re getting their liquor license,” perhaps as a wishful hope that something will keep it open. I’m not quite sure how I will get through fall, it’s been my place for so long to come after school. But as I look around to a pretty packed room, sipping a smoothie and savoring each bite of my hummus platter, I see the laptops and phones filled with noses while cups are empty. I want to say—buy another coffee! Grab a snack! And it dons on me why such a bustling place, alive with all walks of life and topics, mostly politics (it’s hard not to eavesdrop), may not last. People come in to de-socialize, sink into virtual reality, and shut off to turn on. And a cup of Joe under $5 isn’t going to sustain a place like this. Neither is this pumpkin latte I was just given "on the house" with a wave of the hand that tells me the discussion is over. . “You’re too nice,” I say. And it hurts to know how true that truly is. Maybe nice guys do finish last. But I’d choose the nice guy every damn time.
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Today I ask: Would you rather be with your best friend and have adequate sex for a lifetime or be with a passionate lover filled with angst and torment but incredible sex? You can’t have both! Of course we’d all say we want both, that we’d choose our best friend and exquisite lover, but how many of us actually can find that? How many of you have? Is that an allusion fed to us? Is it really possible to have the lover of our dreams AND our best friend? What if we find it but only after we’ve already made a commitment to someone else? How many of us settle, picking the easier life, the life that keeps us from possibly being alone? Why? Why do we do this? Are we that afraid we can’t “have it all” and so follow like sheep and do what society expects of us? Is it really the best we think we can get? It makes wonder if that is why so many couples cheat on one another. Sit here and say how wrong it is all you want, but it is as common as breathing. And we all know it. Just look around. And so this leads me to my real question of the day and my #ThursdayThoughts. Are open relationships something we should all be striving for? Is that possible? I have mixed feelings on this issue and I realize as I ponder this how very selfish it is. I think about myself. And I think about how truly spectacular it could be to have the liberty to have the best of both worlds, openly. No lying. No cheating. No deceit. No hurt feelings. Just an open understanding that monogamy is a bit far-fetched perhaps. That we find our needs fulfilled by different people at different times, much like friendships. Some days I need a break from say, my childhood best friend, and need to be with my best friend from work, who understands me now, not the Rosemary of middle school or high school. And other times, I want to revisit an ex-boyfriend, now friend, because he may understand things about me without me having to spell everything out, because he was a part of making me who I am. I wonder if this is a topic that can be discussed AFTER the commitment or if it would destroy it if the other person isn’t on board. What is wrong with me? Aren’t I enough? What is missing? And so on…I think someone who has a need for BDSM elements who chooses a vanilla partner might struggle with this…and chooses, chooses to decide on that first question I posed—best friend or best lover. But would an open relationship keep the trust in loyalty intact? Is it healthier? Or would it destroy it? When I think of the idea for myself, I like it. But when I think about those I love or have loved doing it, it makes me feel insecure, inadequate, even jealous. And so, is it fair that I should lust after something that I wouldn’t want done on the other side? Double standard much? Yup. It sure is. And I think I’d be very happy that way. :)
I often wonder about my writing. Where it came from. Why. I particularly wonder about why I feel compelled to write erotica and erotic romance with BDSM. Why it has dark themes. Sometimes dub-con. Why alpha males? Why damaged males? Why happy endings? What is it that turns me on about such themes? Have you thought about this if you write? How about what you read? Have you ever been judged because of it? And if so, do you hide it? Behind kindles? Or behind pseudonyms? Do you ask yourself why you’re drawn to what you’re drawn to when it comes to the erotic? Or romance? Is there a formative experience you can pinpoint it to? More importantly, have you been able to answer it? I think I can understand it for myself…somewhat. My formative years. The boyfriends I had and the age. The poet with tough family life whose middle name was "Angst," who was sent away, later joined the military, and went AWOL. Perhaps, because I wanted to help him, “save” him from his past disappointments and couldn’t. Perhaps I like to see those happy endings in my romance books that may reflect what I wish I could have done. Keep the juicy angst but be able to fix it all in the end. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about that. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t much care about the whys anymore. It just “is.” A few have criticized my choices in my “fiction" as a result. Recently, a “friend” who claims not be judgmental in any form (let me clear my throat), stormed “off the set” because of some of the contents on my books, unfriending, saying nasty things about MY 'character' because of the “characters” in my “fictional” books. Did I say “fiction”? Good thing she’s not judgmental, huh? And I see it happen to a lot of authors. It's not just me. There’s so many varying forms and levels of sexuality from heterosexual to bisexual to pansexual to homosexual and everything in between. I’m heterosexual. And yes, this may sound silly, but sometimes, I almost feel like THAT is a bad thing to be writing about these days. I certainly felt that way with my previous publisher. I couldn’t care less which way you wave your flag. Love. Lust. Fuck. Kiss. Sleep with whomever you want. But how come traditional roles of love and relationships, conflict and resolution, falling in love and marriage is somehow bad, uninteresting, not important anymore? Says who? It’s what I, personally, enjoy reading in this genre. And it’s what I enjoy writing. I won’t apologize for it. Just as someone who wants to write about transgender relationships or gay sex or bisexual untraditional tropes. Go for it. What's more, and maybe this is the rub, this genre, this trope, this story, is STILL quite popular among many romance readers, readers in general, that even in our changing world of more and more acceptance of non-traditional roles, the majority still like the trope of boy meets girl, they fall in love, and live happily ever after but not until there is a helluva lot of angst and conflict first. So what? Live and let live. I wish the judging would stop. On both sides of this coin. What difference does it make if it’s well-written and makes a reader feel? Find your audience. And keep producing what both you and they are looking for. It’s really that simple. Add a few more ingredients to this madness, and it might make a little more sense where her anger comes from. Take someone who is insecure, sexually confused (which can do a number on anyone’s self-esteem), a not-so-pleasant introduction to sex (not cool by anyone’s standards), and then consider the effects of dealing with all that mentally. Therein comes the trigger "effect." And then, the lashing out occurs. And bam. Some of us land right in the firing line, because partially, it gets her goat that people are not only reading it but really liking that which she detests. In this light, it becomes a little more understandable, but in a rational mind, we can see how flawed that is.
I write more than alpha male erotic romance. If you don’t know that by now, I question why you’re even reading this. There are pieces of me in my characters. Some more than others. But I am not my characters and my characters are not me. I think the best thing we can do is write if we’re writers; read if we’re readers; and make no apologies for what we want to read and write. If people continue to read my work, I’ll keep writing them. When they stop, I’ll probably stop publishing too. But I’ll never stop writing. And I will not apologize to anyone who can’t differentiate between fiction and the author of said fiction. Experience Informs Our Writing But It Doesn't Define Us. Today I ponder happiness. Is true happiness attainable? If I were to ask you this very moment, “Are you happy?” What would be your answer? Sometimes I wonder if happiness exists, wholly or truly. Many will say that in order to feel happiness, we must feel the pain of its opposite. That THAT is one of life’s great paradoxes. The myriad colors of emotion. I hear that sort of reasoning often. But I can honestly say that I know feelings without their opposites, love without hate, for instance. And so, that theory doesn’t often hold up, even though it’s comforting and makes perfect sense to me. Is it just a way we keep ourselves from going rogue or crazy or off the deep end? That we must always come up with plausible explanations for things that often can’t be explained. I can’t think of a time I’ve ever “hated.” I’m being quite sincere here. Maybe it is because our parents always told us NEVER to use that word: “Rosemary. You may dislike something but you never say you hate.” Sound familiar? I’m starting to think there is no lasting happiness, that maybe from a young age, we've been sold a bill of goods, and maybe that’s the thing. Maybe nothing lasts but we have glimpses of it. Does it mean I’m unhappy? Or is it just another word. Sad. Disappointed. Unfulfilled. Bored. And are they only moments, like every moment is? No moment lasts, and therefore, no feeling lasts? Like this one, right now, already gone with each stroke of my keyboard. Poof. Like childhood, gone. Maybe it’s just about change. And maybe change is a form a happiness. And maybe without change, we feel ‘unhappiness.’ Maybe it’s time I think about a change. Or perhaps we’re always chasing happiness. Maybe happiness is nothing but a hollow, chocolate bunny. There’s nothing inside happiness. It tastes sweet, but maybe it’s just…boring. Empty. Superficial. You know?
I think a better word or phrase might be peace or peace of mind. Contentedness. But then does that mean we become complacent? Perhaps that’s just it. We want the chocolate. It tastes good, but after we have a taste or worse, become satiated, we ‘feel’ the most unhappy? Are feelings even real? And so, I circle back. Maybe happiness is just an illusion. Maybe happiness doesn’t exist. Maybe we don’t want it to, because maybe, just maybe, happiness means we’re dead. |
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I LOVE to write and read. I particularly enjoy reading erotic romance that has tons of emotion in it. I hope you will ask me questions and share your favorite authors and novels. I welcome all feedback.
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