Monday Confessional

Truss me Sir for I have sinned, it's been four months since my last confession.

I received my two contributor copies of Carnal Machines: Steampunk Erotica today. For an erotica author it's quite a thrill to hold tangible evidence that people get off on the things you write. As I held those two copies in my hands, the covers still shiny and devoid of finger smudges, the pages still completely flat and untouched, I couldn't help but feel connected to all the other copies that are going out into the world. Every one clean and new, full of erotic promises of the steampunk variety. Each of them destined for loving use of one sort or another, until the covers become dulled by the touch of their owners, the spines creased from being pressed open so long and the pages curled, marked with the tinter of time.

I realized that's a perfect analogy for how I feel if I go too long between stories or WIPs. Used. Lacking the grace of forward momentum. Stalled out and dried up with my spine creased from being pressed open so long. I nearly dropped the ball this time. I nearly turned a deaf ear to my muse, denying her and myself the satisfaction of our sacred communion. Thankfully, however, the skeleton of a story slid through a crack in the wall I had unknowingly built around myself. That story dropped anchor and began sending roots deep into my psyche. So I am pregnant again. Happily watching my belly expand as my characters take form and the world in which they live becomes manifest.

And I am grateful.