But first...

Last night I started writing a post that I'm calling "Gettin' it on again," but I got interrupted by a phone call and by the time I got off the phone, my train of thought was derailed. So I saved it in drafts to finish today. But this morning I took a walk and realized that I have to write this post before I go jumping back into doing this Erobintica thing regularly.

There's a reason I didn't update this blog for about five months. Reasons, plural, really. At first it was because I was working on a novel-in-progress. Also, I was distracted by various things going on in my life that were not blog fodder, and they overshadowed those things that were (erotica acceptances, for example). And then my self-doubt about being a "real" writer decided to raise it's medusa head (so many reasons).

But then, in December, something horrible happened, very close to where I live. Where I live. The word many of us use to describe everything that happened–and still is happening–is "surreal." We're just now peeking out from under the cover of shock.

I'm beginning to understand the phrase you have to redefine "normal." And for me that includes my writing. I was working on a novel. I've yet to be able to go back to it, because I don't want "all this" to become my characters' story. And also, old negative messages about creativity that I grew up with, came screaming back. So, for a bit, I was paralyzed.

Write erotica?
How the hell?
Write at all?
How?

The first few weeks of this year were pretty bleak. But I went searching out help, and wow, the things ya learn about yourself.

So, yeah, I'm starting to write again, and crawl out of my snail shell. And I know that nothing I write from here on out will be untouched. And I'm coming to terms with that. This isn't the first time I've had to come to terms with changes brought about by examining what lay behind me on my path.

I don't know how I've been changed. Only time will tell. And with that said, I can move on, at least here.