About Me

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I've been writing since I could first hold a pencil, and by all accounts I didn't limit myself to paper. Walls, tablecloths and the occasional sibling were all fair game, and it shouldn't be surprising to learn that markers were banned in my home with all due haste. Although I now content myself with inconveniencing electrons, the desire to bring the stories in my mind to life hasn't waned. In my spare time, I read, putter in the kitchen, and relax on my terrace, weather permitting, with my corgi who strives to be part muse, part food disposal. I'm also addicted to coffee and have a close relationship with my Keurig.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

What do you get when you cross a tanker of jet fuel with a truckload of industrial lubricant?

I asked myself the very same question as I drove past the lube truck. I was tempted to ask my mother, who was sitting in the passenger seat. She's fairly used to me by now, and she's learned to take certain things in stride. I could feel the metaphoric fangs of the newly born plot bunny sinking into my ankle, thankfully my left ankle, since I was still driving.

It's in the outline stage now, and I've invested in a pair of thick leather motorcycle boots, which don't do much for plot bunnies but make me feel seriously formidable. At my age, you want to be formidable. It sounds strong, and impressive, and not at all like a middle aged suburban mom. The alternatives to being formidable are either matronly or involve the color pink, which is not my color.

So how did I arrive at the decision to take up writing erotica at this stage of life?

The best answer for that is that I have nothing left to prove, so I can feel free to explore what I like. I had a career for a time, and then I settled down to have children, and decided I didn't want to parent from behind a desk. I've known too many people who got to hear about first words and first steps from the au pair. I've done the PTA thing, and made cupcakes, and gone to karate classes to watch my daughter kick boards, and to school to see my son in plays. And now, at long last, I can be myself.

Charmingly depraved.

It has a nice ring, doesn't it?

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