Why Write?

I’ve been asking myself this a lot lately. It is a clear sign that I have writer’s fatigue. Right at this moment I don’t have a burning desire to write. When this happens I struggle with it. I want to write but it’s like slogging through mud in fishing boots.

I mentioned this to a friend I used to blog with back in the day. He said that perhaps I need more immediate feedback and that’s true. When I blogged on places like Yahoo 360 and Multiply there were whole communities of bloggers and it felt like Home. We riffed off each other’s writing and it was fun. I see that happening for many on this site but I haven’t been able to scratch the surface much. I am sporadic at times and this does not build a social group. Plus, WordPress is a classic blogging site rather than a social platform.

Perhaps, it’s that I’m writing about real life now instead of my fantasies. I’ve written two different blogs in the past. They were family-based or kink lifestyle-based in some fashion. I would bounce up and down the scale of dedication to both. Real life blogging is a unique type of storytelling. You actually need some real event to write about. You can’t tell a pithy or anecdotal story if nothing interesting happened that day. If you force it then it simply becomes FaceBook. This isn’t that.

My lifestyle blog in the past was about how I wanted to learn about the lifestyle. It was a good chunk of exploration with fantasy peppered throughout. Now I write about the lifestyle I currently live. It’s been suggested that I write some fantasy again. Ok.

But if someone is coming to a reality-based kink lifestyle blog do they really want to hear my fantasies? Maybe or maybe not.

What really irks me to no end and I’m sure bothers my Dominant is we’ve had some amazing scenes, one in particular, that I haven’t written. Every time I go over the events in my mind I can’t summon the words to do it justice. So, I get down on myself and that dampens the process further.

All this has been rumbling around in my mind while steaming hot scene writing has escaped me. Your thoughts are welcome.

Sex, what’s that?

So, I have been remiss.  I languished in my time with Daddy.  He was here a blissful 9 days, I think.  I wallowed in the touch of him, the nearness of him. I had family and him around me and it was bliss. 

I should have given you all a play-by-play of our days together and then the pain of the inevitable separation but I didn’t.  I felt possessive of my time with him.  I couldn’t waste it writing of it.  Then he was gone and I didn’t have the heart to face it.  

I buried myself in work and parenting and that’s where I’ve been. It’s good really.  The lonely, missing him, feelings get pushed down and my focus narrows.  I have been cranking at work and not sad.  

Like clockwork though, I must write and here I am to face it.  The minute I began writing so came the tears.  Time to find his baby girl and dig her out of her cocoon.  

Fuck.