This Was Gonna Be Something Else

This is my third attempt at an interesting post for the week.

Yeah, third.

At this point, I would have normally given up. Let it go. Who really cares?

But I’m trying to turn a new leaf here, and so something has to be said.

My first attempt was about me, about why I came to be writing gay romance.

It went on about how all the series that I was writing before I tumbled into reading the genre had the potential at male male sex.

It’s all true, and worse I didn’t even know that I was doing it.

A lot of them were just a group of males, one female. And one, actually had a threesome that was known and heading that way well before the first paragraph hit the page.

When I had gotten to the romance part—yeah, people, all but one of the above was through my YA saga. I had one big series that I loved—love, I’m hoping at some point to get back to it, but there are some heavy heterosexual sex, and I’m a little squeamish about woman’s parts (jokes, people, jokes) but all jokes aside, I’m not great at writing sex with females involved.

Anywho, that series, not a lot of male female sex going on through that series, and two of them the male part wasn’t completely off the LGBT hit list.

And what I just wrote up was a whole posting.

The second shot was about the authors that influenced me with writing, but I honestly don’t really know that any did. Yeah, I learnt from authors, and I had ideas from them. it’s even safe to say that I could have some, but a lot of the time when people talk about influences, they’ve been listening, reading, looking at them for their whole life.

I didn’t have that. I didn’t start reading until I was 22yrs old.

That was a whole posting too.

You see, my mind—no, maybe the mind of an author?—I’m really not sure, but my mind has always had that part that’s in another world. It’s always had those moments that made me need to lock myself in a room and let the crazy out.

I think it’s the reason that I could play make believe as long as I did.

That once I got a little too old to play Barbies with my friends, I played them with my sister, or by myself.

I have pic’s of the catwalks I created using wrapping paper as my clothing.

There is film of me singing gibberish (though I was a lot younger than the top one. it really didn’t take me all that long to realises what needs to be behind closed doors and what could be shared)

I know this isn’t really anything that I wanted to say. And yet, it’s everything that I did. Only tampered down to a reasonable and maybe better way of saying it.

Huh.

Till next time…