Sometimes I feel like I just can’t write fast enough to keep up with my life. W says, “I’d rather have you living it than writing about it,” but part of living it is writing about it, as weird as that may sound. A very real part of my experience is thinking/writing/sharing/analyzing it all here, the head stuff that goes on. Another part is the creative aspect that goes into my posts on PoJ, reliving the hot sex & kinky scenes through my writing and yes, hoping to turn others on, to titillate, to excite. And then there is the occasional writing I do for Bondage Demons features, Eden Cafe writing, and short story submissions.
It’s strange that with all this writing to do, all this stuff that I am doing, all these things to talk about & think about, that there are times I can feel so…blank…when I sit down to write. How is that even possible?
I’ve got several projects lined up that I need to work on this weekend:
- Short story for a Nov. 1 deadline
- Kinky Kollege posts for PoJ
- WotW posts for Eden Cafe
- Article for Eden Cafe
- Text for a couple BD features that I’ve been mulling on
And I have about 2 dozen half-started posts for here, talking about more than just “woe is me” and actually containing some substance (I hope.) Plus I just want to write about sex…I am craving a good smut-writing session. It’s not like I don’t have the material for it.
But really? I am craving play, deep play, the kind that wipes my mind clear; empties it. And that’s not so conducive to writing, now is it? So living it/writing about it is a balance, and sometimes a compromise. Yeah, maybe W’s right…I’d rather be living it. Writing I can always do.