My day was spent completely relaxing. Yeah, I wrote for a few hours, but to me, that’s slacking. Mainly I just watched Veronica Mars with Anne and text-bombed the shit out of my brother.
Cause little sister. 😀
I did have an interesting Twitter conversation today, though. Someone kind of shot me a random question, and I wrote the first words that sprang into my head:
HER: Why do you write? I write because its the only way for me to speak .
ME: I write because it’s a conduit for my feelings, fears, hopes, and fantasies. Because, basically, it’s a way to express and articulate myself in a way I never could in a face to face scenario.
HER: Wow . Perfect reply . 🤔
ME: Thanks. 😄
Later, however (more specifically, when I was in the shower) I thought about her question a little more. Why do I write? A lot of people probably assume that because I write erotica, the sole reason I write is to make money.
It’s honestly not.
My sexuality is a large part of who I am, more so than the average woman – and the reasons for this are complex. Suffice it to say that while my response to her was true, it is not the whole truth. The whole truth, in its simplest and purest form, would be this:
I write because I literally have no choice.
Maybe one day I’ll expound upon that statement…