How the sausage gets made

When looking at some erotica author blogs, most of what I found seemed to consist solely of announcements about new stories. While I plan to post about that too, I hope to offer other content. There’s nothing wrong with doing it that way, I just have trouble coloring in between the lines. I’ve tried to narrow down topics for a personal blog multiple times and my best idea is still “a little bit of everything.” So, sticking to one subject isn’t my strong suit.

(Plus, I just want to learn more about other erotica authors and hear more from them, so if anyone has any blog recommendations for me, please let me know.)

Erotica is about scintillating stories and building desire, and I’ll happily provide some of that here, but I’m going to break character a bit on my blog too. While writing desire and sex is a huge part of romance or erotica, anyone who writes knows that it is not always easy or sexy. Sometimes it’s staring at a blank document or piece of paper and thinking, “Write, write dammit! Think of something!” Sometimes, it’s having overwhelming ideas, a tide of them and no idea where to start. I go back between these two extremes a lot.

Maybe there’s not an audience who wants to peek behind the curtain or see how the sausage is made, but hopefully there are some people interested in a more candid perspective. I don’t blame anyone who just wants to skip this post and only read the steamy ones. After all, I don’t want to see how sausage gets made. I’m a vegetarian.

I know it’s not generally a great indicator of humor if you have to tell someone about the joke, but it’s hard to confer meaning on the internet sometimes. That was a joke. I am a vegetarian, but for some reason, I have actually seen how sausage gets made. It wasn’t that bad. Maybe it’s worse for people who actually have to consider eating the finished product. I normally can’t resist adding some humor in my stories. Hopefully, once I’m more established, people will appreciate that, as I try to make my work sexy but entertaining too.

I’ve had this blog for a while, and it’s had zero posts for a long time because my attitude towards blogging is mainly “arrrrrg” or “Ok, I will definitely do that later.” I really enjoy the idea of blogging, communicating with other writers and building a followership, but in practice I’m kind of a slacker. I wish I could just write, but self-publishing any kind of work involves a lot of other stuff from cover design to marketing and more. I am grudgingly beginning to accept the necessity of self-promotion.

Anyway, I was thinking to myself that I really needed to start blogging, for real this time. It’s easy to think this and commit to it when I’m not at home or by a computer because I can swear that I’m going to get busy and then conveniently forget once I’m in a position to do something about it. I was outside walking with my dog, strolling through the sunlight while wondering what my first post should be about. What did I choose to write about? The spider and the fly, a poem that calls to mind seduction and danger, what could be better for erotic content?

How did I get that idea? I didn’t have a sudden stroke of genius. I was outside walking my dog thinking about what to write when I walked straight into a spider web. So yes, the truth is less sexy than fiction. As you might be able to imagine, I handled this development with absolutely no dignity. I made a strange noise, jumped around, and prayed frantically that a spider wasn’t on me. My dog paid attention to me for five seconds, then thought I was being too crazy and went back to sniffing the ground.

I dusted the cobwebs off my body, then kept running my fingers through my hair, being relieved but not totally sure there wasn’t a spider in my hair each time I didn’t find anything. Once I was no longer paranoid, I realized what I could blog about, but seeing sausage get made is more preferable than tangling with spiders.

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