Measha Stone's Blog, page 5

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Proverbial Closet

I recently saw a post on Facebook from another author who's mother completely shot him down as a person because he writes Erotic Romance.  She said horrible things to him about being the author and about us readers for reading such things.  Normally, I would write it off as 'meh' she doesn't get it, but this got to me and made me think.

I am very lucky that my parents have had no issue with my chosen genre.  My mother won't read my stuff because she feels it would be "too wierd"- which I understand. (I do write some vanilla stories that she enjoys and wants me to publish...but one genre at a time!)  I recently told a handful of my cousins that I write erotica, and again I was not greeted with the scorn and disapproval I feared. However, I did not give them my blog address, the title of my newest release or my pen name. I didn't withold this information because I was afraid they wouldn't like my writing, but rather because I wasn't ready for them to enter my world. 
How many erotic writers keep to the shadows when it comes to thier own family, like myself? 
It's easy to say to all of you that I enjoy my kinks, because you share a lot of them as well. You've sought this information and these stories. To mention to my family "Hey, check out my blog!" and then my extremely vanilla cousin does- out of love for me- it feels like dragging someone, who did not give consent, into the world of spanking, domination, submission, and such. (and there is one cousin that I am pretty sure would have an anxiety attack and fear for my very soul should she ever venture here)  
My husband would not bend me over the table at Chili's to spank me, nor does he ask me to sit at his feet in public, because these things would bring others into our world who did not give thier okay.  This same rule feels like it applies to "outing" my writing to those that I know do not take residence here. 
But, if I did- I don't think my family would react in the same way as the mother of the author I mentioned previously. Acutally, I know they wouldn't.  They may tease me, they may not like it, but I don't think they would openly scorn me like that.  I guess I'm pretty lucky.  I'm still not going on my family FB page and annoucing my new release- but I'm lucky. 
What about you authors? Bloggers?  Do you do so openly? Does your Aunt Minnie know you write spanking stories, D/s stories?    Tell me your thoughts. 

Wicked Wednesday- Prompt #116- Photography

Photo reblogged from: http://www.katyswann.com/
"Tell me what you've done."

"Why do you suspect I've done something," her eyes batted carelessly, an attempt at levity.

"I know you. I know the little look you get when you've been naughty." His knuckles ran down her naked arm. "Tell me, and it will be much easier."

"You'll be angry, and I hate when you are angry with me." She pouted. Her bottom lip, covered in a thick application of deep red lipstick, protruded out and her eyes sagged enough to earn a smile from him. He loved when she pouted, but more so when she begged.

"You're playing games with me, that makes me angry." His smile slipped away. He walked  across the room to the arm chair he kept in the corner.   With no pomp or circumstance, he threw himself into it and settled himself into the soft leather. "Strip." He waved a hand casually through the air, a gesture that meant he was no longer playing with her. He was getting down to business.

She slid out of her dress, keeping her heels on. "Come here." She walked to him, worried she had not played her cards right. "Kneel." He pointed to the ground at his feet.  A position she normally craved, now became something uncomfortable. He watched her every move.

"Can I tell you?" She asked in a hushed voice. Her eyes did not meet his, but rather settled on his chin. A safe place to look.

"You should have told me when I asked the first time." His voice was hard. She tilted her head to the right, scrunching her lips together- an attempt at not saying something snarky. "Tell me."

"I invited friends over." She whispered.

"Today?" he asked. A rule of the house was that she was not to have anyone over without his permission.  His way of keeping her safe, and a possessive quality she loved.

"Yes." She nodded.

"When?" He leaned forward in his chair, close enough that she could feel his breath on her nose as he spoke.

"Only a little bit ago." She confessed, placing her hands on his thighs- a severe breach of thier etiquite. He looked as though he were about to scold her when out of the closet of the livingroom, the kitchen, and the bathroom sprung fifteen or so intimate friends.

"Happy Birthday!" They all cried out at once.






Photographs are a huge inspiration for me when I find myself stuck on ideas.  Part of why I love Wicked Wednesday, Flash Fiction Friday, and Five Sentence Fiction is because the prompts help unlock ideas that may be hiding in my inner self. One of my biggest fears as a writer (outside of no one liking my work) is that I will run out of things to say. Ideas will cease to come to me, characters will turn thier back and walk away- never to introduce themselves to me again.  Photographs help keep that fear at a reasonable level because they produce inspiration.