I know I'm getting serious...

...because I bought writer food tonight.

And for me, "writer food" is always really kind of bizarre. or, at the very least, the combination of said items is bizarre.

Blueberry juice.

Watermelon juice.

Alcohol.

Fudge Stripes cookies.

Microwaveable sweet potatoes.

A honkin' slab of carrot cake.

Fondue cheese.

Yeah, I'm a weirdo.

But it's a good thing, because if I were normal, I'd kind of be a really sucky writer. ;)

A little step in the right direction.

So on Friday, I met an author--an actual published author--who has offered to send my finished book to her agent.

After I pretty much picked myself up off the floor after hearing that, I decided I'd really better get crackin' on this whole writing thing. I wanted motivation, and now I have motivation.

Stay tuned...

I always said...

...that someday, an album--one that I'd listened to before, but had never really felt anything for--would hit me. I didn't know when, but I knew that it would.

Tonight is that "when."

There's a song on there that reminds me of Riley, of things that he will be thinking and doing toward the end of the book.

There are a couple songs there that remind me of Sasha.

All of these songs are gorgeous, just fucking gorgeous.

I wish it hadn't taken me so long to discover the absolute freakin' majesty of this album...regardless, I'm glad I finally did discover it.

Right here, right now, with a writing blitz ahead of me in the next few days, this album feels like the absolute perfect companion.

Discoveries.

I've been off on a few...adventures...lately.

Sometimes, in trying to find out who you are, or who your character is, you must first find out what you and she are not.

There is a characteristic that my main character and I have in common, and I now know a few things that she and I are not. Which means I'm just a few steps closer to finding out exactly what we are. (And for the record, those "are nots"? I'm glad for them. Really, really glad.)

My writing starts again, full-force, at the beginning of November...

Onward and upward!

In awe.

I met my muse the other night.

The person whose writing has inspired countless brainstorms, manic episodes, epiphanies, and story fragments.

He shook my hand. Signed an autograph. Smiled at me. Waved at me.

And I told him "thank you."

It was the most sincere and true thing I could have told him.

And I owe him a fucking lot of thanks.

Hopefully this will be the creative kick in the ass that I need to get goin' again with this story...

The difference:

Sometimes it's hard to separate myself from the protagonist (of sorts) of the story. But I've finally figured out one major, major difference...or, at least, something in me has changed so that there is one major, major difference.

Sasha sees his ghost everywhere--in parallel subway cars rolling by, in the people pacing by her on the busy streets--a glimpse of blond hair here, green jacket there...

But me--I'm thrilled to be in a place with so much space, so many people, that I will likely never find him there again, and where there is always something pretty (British accent here, tousled spiky hair there) to distract me from looking too hard.

Fuck normal.

There's been a lot of talk in the news lately about David Carradine, an actor who died last week. See, it seems like his death is linked to what is viewed as sexually deviant behavior. Maybe it was auto-erotic asphyxiation. Maybe it was foul play that happened to involve the actor being tied up. It seems to have involved bondage. It possibly involved some masochistic tendencies.

It involved a lot of things that many people don't view as normal.

I say, fuck normal.

Now Carradine's exes are talking to the press. Giving details about his sexually deviant behavior that they noticed while they were with him. I hate the word "deviant." It has a bad connotation. And you know what? If your so-called "deviant" actions are always safe, sane, and consensual, then I don't think there's anything bad about these sorts of actions.

These desires do exist in some people. Some people will never know these desires at all, and others will know nothing but them. Some people are wired to have a very innate understanding of BDSM and other similarly "deviant" attitudes and activities. And I firmly believe that those people cannot help that. It's kind of like being gay. Do you know any gay people who chose to be gay? I don't. It's just the way they are. And when something's hard-wired so deeply in a person, I don't think it can be changed even if that person would dearly love to change it.

Part of the message I'm sending in the book is that there are people out there who have darker desires. And often, they look just like any random, normal person you'd see walking down the street. They don't have to be wearing fishnets or spiked collars like you might expect them to be wearing. Sometimes they're the people who look the most normal. Or they're the people on the fringe of the crowd, watching everyone else, observing how to play normal. Because they know that if they appear to the outside world as being anything but normal, they'll be labeled. Judged. Looked down upon. Laughed at.

These desires aren't wrong. They may not be for everyone, but they are. Not. WRONG.

And if you do have these desires, remember: safe, sane, and consensual. Sometimes these sorts of activities include risk. Trust. Immobilization. Etc. Don't play with anyone you don't trust, and don't allow yourself to be in a situation alone where you have no means of escape if you have some sort of accident. Be smart about how you play.

I find it sad that this actor's last moments were spent in a freakin' closet, of all places. My main character, Sasha, can relate. For so much of her life, she tried to shove her own desires into a closet, lock the door, and jump into bed with some annoyingly normal man...the whole time, she was just learning how to be a better fake, and she was becoming more and more tempted by what was behind that door...