I have a love/hate relationship with the art of writing sex. Yes, you read that right, writing sex is an art form. Just as much as the beauty of a painting or sculpture. Sex in all its facets can range from downright eye-twitching nasty to tear-inducing sweet.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Thursday, October 31, 2013
NaNoWriMo Eve, yep, it’s that time again. For the second time I am going to attempt to make the 50k in November. The voices in my head are an overwhelming loony bin. Adding two more and holding off on writing them until midnight strikes is a pain in the ass, but I already have five WIPs underway and one rewrite of a novella.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
I was a writer, even when it was just quickly scribbled notes in edge-worn notebooks that I never thought anyone would read. Unattainable dreams of gracing Best Seller List’s; I know that writing will never pay the bills or skyrocket me to fame and fortune or Silver Screen deals, but I am a writer.
Friday, September 27, 2013
by J.M. Dabney
On a late autumn night, I watch her move. The embodiment of sex, a pleasurable thrill abrades my control and strips away at the tight reins that harness long, dormant needs. My gaze travels the graceful lines of her curves, the heaviness of her breasts, that sweet rounded curve of her belly, and those hips that scream to be palmed. In my mind, I can see her; the beauty of her splayed upon crisp, white sheets, the supple curves of her thighs as she spreads them, inviting me in to taste. To sample the flavors of her passion upon my tongue, the taste and the smell of her response to only me assails my senses and drives out all rational thought.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
I've been meaning to take on a flash fiction challenge, so, I thought what the hell, just do it already and here is my first attempt at it.
When I read the list of titles to choose from, one just jumped out at me and I hope that I did it some justice.
Sit back, have a read and I hope you enjoy.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
I would have to admit that I was skeptical when I first purchased the book, some of the reviews on Amazon were not very glowing in nature. Paul made me smile and laugh from the start, and really that is important to my enjoyment of whatever I read. The fact that the characters were not perfect appealed to me. There's too many books out there, I will admit amazing books, but there is something about a flawed character like Paul. He wasn't sporting six-pack abs, he definitely wasn't always the smoothest, although, that's what I enjoyed the most. I fell in love with Paul and Vince, the story contained humor,but it was so much more than that. I gave Tell Me It's Real 5 stars because sarcasm and a great laugh make me extremely happy.
Now, all that's left is the next book, a certain drag queen deserves her own tale. Hint. Hint.
(Posted on Goodreads)
Monday, April 8, 2013
Every writer, hell, everyone has had that I am ready to give up crisis, the delete everything, burn those old notebooks crisis. I remember when writing used to be fun. Where word count and mass consumption weren’t the reason to write, but the enjoyment of a tale told. Maybe it was a quote that I saw floating around, but you don’t write for the money, you have to write for the love of it. My love is fading and as much as I hate the silence of my head, my voices rendered speechless, writer’s block cleaving their tongues out, I can’t force myself to write.
There are no words.
My head is a void and when that happens, there’s nothing to distract me from playing the what-if game. All my mistakes playing in surround sound, that nagging inner voice the one gagged and stuffed into a closet by the characters I created escaping to wreak havoc.
Okay, so, maybe I have a bit of a defense mechanism, an escape from reality. It’s a beautiful thing really, no need for those little drugs to make me feel all tingly. I just have the voices in my head; the sheer number would make Sybil herself jealous. Although, they are no longer there, my faithful imaginary friends have jumped a freighter for some unknown port and left me behind with all my insecurities, not to mention my inferiority complex that would make an atomic mushroom cloud miniscule in comparison.
To be honest, I don’t know where it came from. I write to keep myself sane, putting all my anger and my depression onto pages of well-worn notebooks or into Word (Affectionately known as my Bitch Mistress). Erotica, it’s what I started out writing for people to read and leaving my darker things for myself, sort of like a journal told from an alter-ego. I love writing Erotica, don’t get me wrong about that, it’s fun, but ultimately it isn’t what I want to write or more importantly what I want to be known for.
That wasn’t a dig at Erotica, I assure you, but I have wanted to be a writer since the age of eight, as I grew older, I discovered books. Steinbeck, Hemingway, Lawrence, Trumbo, Heller, Dante, Plath, Wharton and so many more that I could list. That was what I wanted, maybe needed is more apt a term. Not really the next great American writer that is rare, but a novelist; one that could write a book to move the masses.
My latest WIP (Work in Progress) is that novel, the one my soul longs to write. It’s not sunshine and roses, not a guaranteed happy conclusion and I am more than thrilled with that. Life isn’t about the happily-ever-after; it’s about the journey to what may become that beautiful ending. Alas, what my soul and head are agreeing on are two completely separate issues, my soul is screaming to write, to finish, but my head is screaming no. Is it a fear of failure, of falling on my face? I would say yes. I am completely out of my comfort zone. Attempting to lay my soul out for everyone to read and judge.
Do I persevere? Take my Muse in hand, and make her see whom the boss is or just lie down, and let my dream pass? Only time will tell, will these few days I have taken to clear my head be enough or shall weeks, months pass before I can feel normal again? Again, only time will tell and I hope the old adage is true, that time heals all wounds.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
All writers/authors have blogs and, yes, I have now given in and created my own. It looked mighty naked, so, I decided to write a post, that's what you're supposed to do when you have a blog, right? See, I wrote my very first blog post and now I am done.