Showing posts with label Samslam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Samslam. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

And Just Like That I Seem to be Back

Well, that was a long hiatus. Between a bit of depression and some traveling, my posting went the way of the dodo there, in June. Thanks for your patience, everyone. Posting is likely to be a bit more sporadic than usual for the next few months, but I'll try to maintain as much continuity as I can.

I'm happy to report I've kept writing throughout the period -- which is what y'all care about right? I've started writing the final act of Book II, and it's congealing nicely. I've had the general picture in my head for a while now, but there's a difference between knowing where things are going, and the details of how to get there, especially when the characters sometimes want to go somewhere else and I have to listen to them because frankly, they know a lot better than I do.

Let me leave you with a goodie that I've run across a couple of days ago. It's a mind-control story by Samslam called Neuro Submission Transmitter: "He controls his sister, mother, neighbor, and a stranger." (That's the description of the first part, of a total of five.) It's a pretty straightforward story at first -- boy finds a doodad that lets him control the minds of people around him -- but there are a few twists as the story progresses. And the sex is hot. As the description suggests, there are some rather strong incest themes there, but nothing especially icky.

I wish I could write something like that: breezy, tongue-in-cheek, people going around having great sex. But I can't. Oh, I tried. But pretty soon, whenever I've tried, someone gets some dark idea and things start going downhill for someone else, and conflict arises, and people get hurt and people get abused and some come out as heroes and others come out as villains and yes, there is great sex, but what is great sex for someone is boring or reprehensible or disgusting to someone else. It's just the way my brain is wired, I guess. I love to read the stuff. I just can't produce it.