Musings

Grr. I can't get into Writers' Cafe for some reason--has it suddenly become extremely popular over the two days I haven't checked it? At the meantime, I'm researching for a story.

See, I have this idea, one that features and awful lot of cheesy puns about food (the idioms, in fact, are really my motivation for doing the story). But developing it is starting to become a massive headache.

That's all. Summer's started, along with summer class (community service), and with the infernal tropical heat I'm not sure I'll be able to churn out fiction and prose easily.

Wordsworthless

This should be emotions
Recollected from tranquility
But serenity doesn't come
When one is free-falling.

No reason, no rhyme
No beautiful lines
And the subject
Is rather vague, too.

Because how can you say
Elegantly with symbols
(For that's all words are,
Elephants to nine blind men),

That your mother called you fat
As she had for a score,
And all the heavy issues
Attached to it--ignored completely.

You can't,
And the words
Die in your mouth
And become useless.

Writing Recuperations

I was out on a week, exploring some pretty exotic sights. Lots of inspiration came, however the fruits of my sojourn are thoughts that no virginal semi-convent-raised 19-year-old girl of supposed moral fiber should have. Not to mention that manifesting such thoughts into stories really won't fit into the mood of ths blog.
    How can one right erotica, after all, when one hasn't experienced the mechanics involved herself? No matter how many Regency trash and other fiction of questionable literary value I devour, I'm pretty certain I'm going to freeze up in my first real date.
    And there you have it. I confess, I'm nearly two decades old and never dated, never had a proper kiss. And I'm really not torn up about it. I don't like it that many of my peers get boyfriends just for the sake of saying they have such, even if the boys are really disgusting and have the brain cells of a sex-crazed lemur. What will happen will happen, and despite all pragmatism I do believe I will end up with my equal, someday.
    I'm fully aware the picture-perfect images of romance and love are just that, far from reality, and it's highly foolish of me to persist with my idea of chivalry and true love. At heart however I'm still that little girl who grew up wanting to be a Disney princess.
    A quandary, then, only resolved by dreams and writing. For the past five years, however, those dreams grew steadily more sensual, and in my stories I've tried to portray the world in vivid colors both passionate and full of wonder.
    I've written two pieces with two mature scenes, and I'm wondering now if I should post it. As a writer, I should, if I follow through with what I've been threatening to do and become the first ever virgin romance novelist. Criticism is a must. On the other hand, here the paradox reasserts itself, and I shy away from revealing my hidden desires, the depths of my dreams and escapism.

Any ideas?