Barking Up the Wrong Tree in the Wrong Forest on the Wrong Afternoon in June

So I’ve been trying to write an erotica story for the past few days. It features a maskmaker, a possessed mask, a place that is not!Venice and I think some flooding canals.* I think it could be a lovely story, and it likely came from a combination of watching a recent Doctor Who episode, looking up paper masks and reading up on Venetian clothing.

For all rights and purposes, the story looks sound. I have a protagonist I don’t hate except personally, a setting, and even a good idea of the way the sex goes. There’s plot, a place to end it, and even some world-building in there.

All that, and it refuses to go.

I did the writer equivalent of walk around it and kick the tires, and I even tried to peer knowledgeably under the hood, but nothing. It wasn’t boring, exactly, but I wasn’t interested.

I wrote the first paragraph, and then I rewrote it. I wrote the last paragraph, rewrote it twice and then scrapped it. I wrote a scrap of dialog and tossed it, too. I wrote an arrangement of limbs that is either the middle of a sex act or an extremely dextrous octopus.

So with nothing to go on, I gave up for the moment, went to bed to write longhand for a bit, and got the first two pages of another story entirely. This one also has unhealthy people who want bad, bad things from each other, but well, what’cha gonna do? It’s still me writing this.

I liked the first story, I still do as a matter of fact, but I think this second one is going to get written, edited and submitted. I will say that getting a sense for this is one of the benefits for having written better than 30 pieces of erotica, but of course now that I say that, I’ve entirely jinxed myself and need to find another career as a sturgeon farmer.

Anyway, it’s bastard cold here for June and tea is being had, so have a good couple days, everyone. See ya soon. ^_^




Coming Soon:


Alternate Careers for Erotica Writers

There’s No Shame in Not Having a Rice Cooker, NONE-WHAT-SO-EVER!



*I’ve resigned myself to the fact that everything sounds stupid when you sum it up. **

** Unless you’re Inigo Montoya: “Buttercup is marry’ Humperdinck in a little less than half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the princess, make our escape… after I kill Count Rugen.” ***

*** For an erotica blog, I talk about The Princess Bride a lot.


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