Pop the Clutch: The challenges of starting a new story.

I've started a new story. It's not going well. I have this great idea, but I'm having a hard time fleshing it out. Why? Well, for a long time, I wrote stories that were based on situations I had been in. And when you write from experience, it's very easy to capture (or re-capture) that sense of being there, because you can draw on your memories to pull in details. But when you're writing a story that has no basis on your own personal experience, it can be very difficult to create those details in your mind. I find that I have to trick my mind into believing I lived the story in order to write it. It can be easy sometimes, but this time I'm having trouble. Here's the premise of the story:

Girl has her first real corporate job after college. She has a lot of student loans, and an entry level position doesn't pay quite enough to pay the loan payment. She answers an ad for modeling - she did a little runway modeling for a mall when she was in high school, never still photography, but she figures it can't be that hard. She follows the directions to the location - it's a seedy part of town, a loft in an old warehouse or factory of some sort. The photographer lives there, and the other model has already arrived. They are being shot for a series of erotic book covers, and the male model is incredibly good looking, so she thinks this will be a piece of cake, although she's a little reluctant at first - her religious upbringing creates guilt that gnaws at the corners of her mind. Several shoots later, the male model seduces her while they are filming, she forgets about the photographer and camera...you get the picture. (Pun intended.)

I've never modeled. Never really wanted to. I like photography, but I know nothing about it beyond point and shoot and a little shot composition. So I'll have to do a little photography research, I think, and I need to get myself into a model's frame of mind. I understand the desperation of needing money to make ends meet - when I was out of college, I worked at Pizza Hut to supplement the income from my first two "real" jobs (which weren't all that real, given they were telemarketing and phone sales). Yes, I was a Pizza Slut. But it was a decent job and meant that I had to buy very little in the way of groceries, because I'd eat dinner there and bring mistakes home for lunch the few next days. I also worked with some really great people - we were like a dysfunctional family, but we knew how to have fun.

So back to the story. That's where I'm at. I have a plot outlined, and I've started writing the first draft. I've gotten her to the photo shoot. She has that fake bravado that recent college grads adopt, that sense of "I can do anything! I have a diploma!" is still fresh, and the looming student loan payment is enough impetus to push her through the heavy sliding door at the end of the hall.

Are you intrigued? I am. While I have no interest in modeling, it's still a story that has the potential to get me going. I was young and innocent once, full of imagined experience. I want to know what happens next.

Snow and its effect on writing

It's snowing today. A steady stream of white that blankets the world in crisp cold sheets. It is the perfect day to write. A steaming cup of cocoa laced with amaretto or rum, a bowl of freshly popped popcorn (the homemade on the stove kind, not that chemical aftertaste microwave crap), and a cozy spot by the window with a wireless laptop and a soft snuggly blanket is a recipe for a good story.

So what's the problem? I'm supposed to be working. I have a real job, you see, and I work at home most of the time. Today is one of those work at home days. But I don't feel like working. I feel like writing a steamy story.

Snow has that effect. It doesn't just spin cars off the road, but it has a way of spinning me off track too. But, then again, I get distracted easily. See, here's the other issue. I'm a little horny. And I have a hard time writing stories about sex when I'm horny. It's a strange problem to have. I'm sure you're thinking, "well then take care of it and get on with the story writing!" I know, I know. And I could. But I'm feeling a little masochistic right now too, so I'm denying myself that little release until I've gotten some work done. It's a vicious cycle.

Erotica vs. Porn

Is there a difference?

If you read my first posting, you've no doubt figured out that I was excommunicated from my church because some nimwit who didn't know how to use the internet accidentally discovered that I write erotic fiction and post it on the internet, and decided to tell everyone she knew, including the Pastor. I was condemned for being a blatant and unrepentant sinner, knowingly leading others astray by my sinful hobby.

In the months since then, I've been doing a lot of soul-searching and investigating to see if I can figure out whether there is or isn't a difference between porn and erotica. What do you think?

I know what my former Pastor believes - there is no difference. Apparently if you're Lutheran, you are not allowed to have a sex life beyond missionary position lights out sex on Saturday nights with your husband or wife. I'm not a very good Lutheran, apparently.

I know what my friends and fellow writers believe - there is a difference. Erotica has a plot, with character development. It has some redeeming literary quality beyond just being a stroke story. It explores some facet of relationships, life, or humanness. It is geared more toward women, and often includes some hint of romance. Erotica relies on symbolism and subtext and imagery to add other dimensions to the story. Porn is about making objects of women (primarily) and is targeted to getting the viewer/reader off as quickly as possible. It's "insert tab A into slot B", a money shot, and cheesy music.

I've been writing erotica since I was in high school. I'm 32 now, so we're talking close to 20 years (I started high school when I was 13). And I have to tell ya, I really like writing it. And I know a lot of people who really like reading it. I get more fan mail than I know what to do with sometimes, a lot of it from couples who have thanked me for putting some spice back in their sex life. They're reading it together, or she's reading it to him, or vice versa, to get in the mood. So does that make me a sex therapist as well? But I digress...

In my opinion, erotica is as much about the imagination and the largest sex organ - the mind - as it is about the sex. It's about drawing the reader into a story, giving them a peek into someone else's bedroom where they can either play the role of the voyeur or imagine themselves acting out a secret fantasy. I try to create stories about real people having real sex. There are no impossibly perfect buxom blonds with wasp waists in my stories. There are no body building hunks fixing the cable in their speedos. It's the couple next door, or the college students down the hall.

I've had complaints from a few readers who wanted the porn - who wanted the sex up front in the first scene, and the orgasm within two pages. Sorry, guys - if that's what you want, then don't read my stuff. I write what I like to read. Porn is easy to come by (pun intended), but it's not what I write. Well - that's not to say that I haven't started off a story in bed, but there's certainly more to it than that, and there's generally a better sex scene later in the story as a reward for those who keep reading!

A lot of readers want the build-up. They want the anticipation. They want to be seduced. Erotica does that. Porn just bends 'em over, fucks 'em hard, and leaves 'em unsatisfied.

That's what I think. What about you?