To Blush or Not to Blush: That is the Question…
You caught me!
I blush a bright fiery red. I squirm in my chair. My mouth dries out. I want to cover my eyes.
‘What would my mother think?’ are the words that run through my brain as my fingers type the scenes I shouldn’t even imagine.
I know what she thinks about my writing. Unfortunately. She told me back when she read AAA Love which Pocket Smut (a defunct paper magazine) published in 2010 and Every Night Erotica reprinted in April 2012.
She is horrified. She cannot fathom how a decently-brought-up woman can write anything concerning sex. That belongs behind the closed bedroom doors, kept out of the public eye in her mindset, thank you very much. Never to be talked about in polite society.
I think her idea of ‘proper’ writing has rubbed off on me. Not only is she uneasy about me writing anything; she and my father told me years ago to ‘leave writing to the experts’. Now I stoop to writing about—please whisper this to yourself—SEX.
But only insofar as that I’m embarrassed when I write those scenes. I still am. And I’ve written lots of them. Some for practice and some in the stories I will let the world read.
See, I am a product of my upbringing, the more restrained, almost puritan, post war culture, mixed in with the hippie era I spent my teenager years in. A dichotomy of warring attitudes – repressed to free – in one fast swoop through my generation.
I read somewhere that an individual learns one’s own family cultural heritage, and absorbs it, before five, all before the local society gets in to make its mark. Early grades in school, along with the teacher’s culture sets its overlay. Teen peers, teen society, teen culture plays a part, especially when the child rebels against family values as they try on the mantles of adulthood, choosing their own. Usually the child accepts his or her family values, esthetics and belief system. At least that’s my belief.
So of course I feel weird writing about something ‘we never talk about.’ Something so secret I didn’t learn the mechanics of until I turned thirteen, in a totally female health class, after our parents signed a release form to allow us to take this extra-curricular class. We sat, grouped closely around the school nurse as she whispered the doings of the ‘dreadful’ act. I remember her as Miss something.
It is hard to overcome early childhood training. A struggle to put images of something so pleasantly vile on a page designed to be read by someone else. How could I write this? How could I edit it?
To help me find the correct visions, I hit the erotic writing sites, reading, and blushing over erotic stories. I hopped over to the psychology of sex sites and the sociology of sex sites. While everything I read helped me, it also didn’t. I now knew more the mechanics than I ever dreamed possible. But I could not write them any of the ways I read by other authors.
I shrugged, starting to write my own version of those scenes. Nothing quite like jumping off the deep end, right?
It took me weeks to be able to go back over my first erotic scene. I’d thrown away many as I tried to describe that part; afraid of what I wrote, ashamed to be even thinking it. It was trash. Finally I rewrote that scene, using humour to get me over the hump, so to speak. I like that scene now, the one where Leticia finds a young martial arts expert in Love ‘n Lies. My first ‘real’ sex scene. I even read it out at When Words Collide, the writers’ convention in Calgary every mid-August.
I felt proud of myself. I don’t think I blushed. I didn’t stutter. I received congratulations for reading with expression.
I plan to write these types of scenes again. Maybe lots of times. But I’ll probably always blush.
Synopsis for Love ‘n Lies
Gaining weight is a human problem. At least that’s what Leticia always thought. But when this vivacious vampire wakes from her year-long slumber and discovers that her formerly svelte frame has retained a few extra pounds, it becomes apparent that something has gone amiss.
A girl just can’t wander around the Calgary Stampede in clothes that don’t fit! So she sets about the task of shopping and working out a low-cal diet of humans she can live on. When her friends notice how depressed she is, one of them suggests she adopt a tomcat named Justin to keep her company. Little does she know that she would fall madly in love with her new kitty. The moment she does, the spell cast over Justin is broken and he takes his true form – a long, tall, dark haired man with an insatiable sex drive. Letty is more tempted than she ever thought possible and can’t keep her hands off him anymore than he can keep his off of her.
After taking him back to her childhood home, Evermore, to consult with the head wizard Silvius, she soon discovers the Warlock who cast the spell over Justin isn’t letting him go so easily.
Throw in a nasty twin sister who’ll do anything to get her hands on what Letty has, including Justin’s more than hot body, and you end up with Love… ‘n Lies!
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Aspen lives in the Foothills of Alberta with her husband, two of her four children, a dog, a lovebird and a glaring of semi-feral cats. You will often find her watching the wildlife happily feasting in her vegetable garden in the early morning dawn. Being a lover of nature, and all things natural, she wouldn’t trade her country lifestyle for all the beans on the stalk.
A die-hard believer in fairy tales, Aspen hopes her fairy godmother is the Muse. Lending credence to this notion is one of Aspen’s earliest memories: writing a story for her little brother in crayon on a favored picture book and earning a spanking as her first critical review. Never deterred, Aspen continued to make up stories, and hone her craft, until finally letting a few escape her clutches in 2010.
Love ‘n Lies is Aspen’s first work in The Evermore Chronicles, the concept for which was developed while she was employed in the seniors’ medical field. Do paranormal beings suffer from medical problems also? What happens to aging Vampires, Wizards, Trolls and the like? The questions begged to be answered… And of course, their stories needed to be told.