Oddly, when I’m writing, the one thing that I don’t usually have a problem writing is sex. While I’m not sure it’s a talent to be overly proud of (can you announce that on a t-shirt??) it does make writing stories with a romantic edge easier. Often, I’ve questioned why this seems to be a skill I posses. It runs the gamut too, I’ve written everything from sweet sex scenes where everything is alluded to and done behind closed doors to all out explict erotica (p*rn) where things are described in detail. Not exactly something you usually disclose at the monthly PTA meeting.

What always becomes interesting is when I’m editing something I’m working, recently being full length novels or short stories of the 30K word variety. While I embrace technology (love, love my touchscreen laptop) when it comes to writing, I find it hard to break old habits. Despite having a perfectly acceptable word processor to type with, I still cart around notebooks and pens in which to hand write things. After all, my philosophy? A wire bound notebook’s battery isn’t going to die on you. Sure, your pen may run out of ink, but it’s a heck of a lot easier to find a new pen sometimes than to find an outlet to plug into. Writing out things longhand also means, after all is transferred to electronic copy, pen editing is done by hand and red pen. So it’s not unusual to find me carting around an expandable binder that appears to have been bled all over. This means that I can work anywhere. Considering my daughter’s Irish dance hobby, that’s a Very Good Thing^TM. It also means that I often have complete strangers asking me what I’m working on.

This is where the whole “interesting” deal comes into play.

What exactly do you say to that? “I’m deciding if my lead male character kissing my lead female characters nipples is explained with enough explicitness for my tastes.” Er…yeah, somehow I don’t see that reciving the warmest of welcomes. Though, you never know. People can surprise you.

Late last year, my husband was busy with school so I had to take our daughter to her ballet lesson. I took along the story I was working at the time and my handy, dandy red pen. Half hour into the lesson and me fully enthralled in my edit – a mother of one of the dancers came along and interrupted me. You know the type – you’re working diligently along, head down in the that “I’m busy leave me alone” posture and they launch into a conversation with you despite your obvious concentration. I was polite and closed what I was working on, as my two characters were in a compromising position, and she asked question after question about what I was doing. Again, I was polite but to be honest I’m the last person you’ll find talking openly with someone I barely know about my stories in progress (okay, really, I’m not one to talk about my stuff anyway, regardless of where they are in the process). I skirted her questions as best as I could and I think I finally bored her sufficiently enough that she left me alone.

I think, just one time, when asked what I’m doing when they clearly see me working dilligently along, that I’d like to smile slyly and explain in great detail exactly what I’m writing. I figure a few things an happen at that point: 1) they’ll  run screaming or 2)  give me one of those “are you crazy?” looks or, lastly, 3) plop down next to me.