I keep getting distracted with the flood of thoughts running through my mind & spread myself thin. It’s been a mad dash of shifting back and forth in and out of open Word windows, low laptop batteries, and frozen screens.
As I write the last chapter, somewhere in the curves of my grey matter, another story is unfolding- 16 stories in the space of two days– stories that gleefully interrupt the story I’m trying to polish and finish.
At first, I ignored them.
But then I had to acknowledge the stories demanded some solidarity.
I acknowledged them to a point. Gave them all titles, plots and endings, filed them and there they sit. They’ll have to show a little patience.
I’m not complaining, trust me, because a week prior I floundered as I’m soothing my only child who’s up at 3am with a rotten fever. Moms deal with rotten fevers, erotica authors write about feverish passion. One of them is guaranteed to give you the Holy Hell runs and in Supermom mode both can be cured with lots of love. Chicken noodle soup can do wonders for the soul (as the novel says) and great for the flu, not so sure about erotica mental blocks unless you’re whipping up a special love potion soup to serve your starving lover. (Which, by the way has anyone seen My Drunk Kitchen? I”d love to cook with Harto.)
Daily life distractions and seasonal flu will suck the romance right out of a woman. Well, I was sucked- it SUCKED- and it was damn frustrating. I felt like I’d cheated on my computer and did not want to lock eyes with the dark screen- as if it would see my blank stare of “duhhh” as it accused me of being neglectful.
And then someone looked at me funny, and a million scenarios flooded my head, nothing but sex, sex, and scenarios. My sparky. Can I say schwiiiing? (wink wink) I could just kiss you if you’d hold still long enough.
But that’s okay, because pretty soon I get my own shiny, brand-new, barely ever or never-used B.O.B. Award, compliments of Las Vegas! I should go stock up on batteries.