When Heather tagged me to write about my writing process, I was like wait, what? No seriously. That was my exact reaction. See?
Then I was all WHAT DID I DO TO PISS HER OFF? I should also point out that this happened two, wait, three months ago, so that says a lot right there. Thank God there’s no math in writing.
Oh, shut up.
I know there’s some sort of format I’m supposed to follow here, but that ain’t going to happen sweet cheeks. I will share with y’all that I’m currently writing CONTROL, the second book in my memoir-new adult-fiction-BDSM erotica-contemporary fiction-romance, erm, memoir series.
Yes, it’s a genre.
And because I have project A.D.D., I’m also writing a guide to swinging and group sex, an idea born from a snarky blog post I recently wrote about a rather awkward experience with chicken wings, boobs, and attempted double penetration. Laugh, if you will, but it happened and yes, it was totally weird.
I’d love to say I’m one of those writers who boast to their Facebook friends that they wrote 4,300 words while sitting in their local Starbucks, but I’m not. I hate them, by the way, but only because I tend to write with the swiftness of a handicapped snail. Hell, there are days where I write little more than a paragraph because I can’t move past it until it feels right. I’ve been known to rewrite an opening paragraph a bazillion times before pulling up my big girl panties and sharing with Mr. K or Heather to ask if I’m on the right track. And even if their response is favorable, which it usually is, I blow it up and write it over anyway. Have I mentioned I’m super anal? Heh. Anal.
Aaaaaand we’re moving on.
Most of the time I love writing, but there are times where I’m overwhelmed and find myself curled into a fetal position, especially if I’m writing about the fees. And then there are the moments I doubt my ability, thinking every word I’ve ever written sucks sweaty balls. There’s also the issue of balancing my writing career with the life outside of my head, which doesn’t always go as planned. On occasion, my kids would go hungry if they weren’t old enough to feed themselves, and my friends have been known to stage interventions by dragging me out of the house kicking and screaming because the sunlight hurts my eyes and burns my pale skin. And sleep, well, that’s something I learned to live without long a go.
To sum it up, my writing process isn’t complicated, but it does involve a lot of crying, self-doubt, balls, and snails. Wait.
The Method to My Madness originally appeared on Vagina Antics on July 28, 2014.
The post The Method to My Madness appeared first on Vagina Antics.
