A one act play in conversation hearts: read left to right like a book.
Happy Valentine’s Day!!
10. Writing definitely became more prolific and interesting when electronic tools became mainstream.
9. Although sometimes it’s easier just to go it alone, in the long run you’re better off having some other people involved.
8. Sometimes writing is slow and deliberate, sometimes it’s fast and frenzied, but you’re usually pretty satisfied with the end result. And if you’re not… you can always try again tomorrow.
7. We live in a busy world. You often just need to schedule a specific time to get your writing done, like Sunday nights after the kids go to bed.
6. A little prompting can help lubricate your thought process.
5. Most of us are ready to write at a moment’s notice, but sometimes it’s easier just to use the excuse “I have a headache.”
4. Protection (as in copyright) should always be at the forefront of one’s thoughts.
3. Some days writing is all we think about. Some days, even when we try not to think about it… it’s all we think about.
2. When it’s just not happening for you it’s important to think outside of the box, try new things, explore new genres, but realistically you’ll have the most success when you stick with your tried and true techniques.
1. The end result isn’t always what’s important… sometimes it’s all about the lead-up. Okay… yeah… whatever, the end result is pretty important… getting published that is!
Good luck with your end result. And when you do get published, well if you’re a girl you can find someone to cuddle with. If you’re a guy, okay… just this once… it’s okay to pass out on your side of the bed!
Men across the globe are praising the Fifty Shades of Grey series of books for the increase in their sex lives the books have provided as these sensual stories have been devoured by female readers. If you are not familiar with the Fifty Shades of Grey books, well, apparently the two main characters have sex… ALL. THE. TIME! In any case, nothing like a little literary fantasy to get people revved up.
In the past, other series of books haven’t worked out so well…
Prior to the Fifty shades of Grey series, the Hunger Games books were topping the charts. Now granted, I read the first one and I thought it was a very good book. But in all honesty, horrible, desolute poverty and kids killing each other just doesn’t put people in the mood. I mean, the average guy could spend hours out in the woods collecting and preparing stuff for a romantic dinner of stale bread, roots dug out of the ground, nuts and berries, mice and squirrel meat and porridge, his hands dirty and bloody from digging in the soil and tearing meat from bone… only to have his wife crush all his dreams when she walks in the door with a pizza and six cartons of Chinese food. It would be enough to want to fire an arrow through her heart. Not very romantic.
Before the Hunger Games, most women were, of course reading the Twilight series of books and men were thinking, “this is it, a sexy vampire story, I am so in, I just need to spend a lot of time down in my basement so I can get that pale white skin!” Plus, the average, grunt-speaking man had to learn to talk in short, breathy sentences while staring off into space and saying things like “you are utterly indecent — no one should look so tempting, it’s not fair” and “yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin.” Of course, if a guy was able to master those things, he had to attempt to move through rooms at light speed while shirtless and wearing tight pants. This of course came with the high risk of knocking himself out while tripping over the unused exercise machine and flying head first into her nightstand.
Then, who can forget the Harry Potter years, when women wrapped their vivid imaginations around wizards and magic. It seemed like those years went on forever, but most men thought, “what could be sexier than a guy in a wizard costume with a pointy hat?” Sales of those little circular glasses went through the roof and men interacted with their wives by saying things like “woulducus likto havicus sexicus” and “engorgio erecto, can you takus carathis” while simultaneously opening up the black cloak that they were wearing as a bathrobe. Apparently women didn’t find any of this arousing in the least.
So, now that the Fifty Shades of Grey books will slowly fade from the best seller list, men around the globe are concerned about what books will become the next craze. As most men don’t follow the best seller list and/or know what’s popular maybe you female readers can help us figure out what we can look forward to next!
Okay, it’s not just hot, it’s really hot!
Okay, it’s not just really hot, it’s like really, totally hot!
Okay, it’s not just like really, totally hot, it’s like really, totally, oppressively hot!
Okay it’s not just like really, totally, oppressively hot… “it’s hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut!”
Yeah, I don’t know what that means, but Robin Williams said it in “Good Morning Vietnam”, so it’s got to mean something.
I looked up a few “It’s Hotter…” quotes. Here’s some highlights:
“It’s hotter than a billy-goat with a blow torch!” I don’t know what this means either but I can only imagine if my two goats, Naughty and Heath were donning blow torches, things would be getting pretty hot.
“It’s hotter than a two-peckered goat!” Pretty self-explanatory, I suppose. How about a two-peckered goat with a blow torch?
“It’s hotter than a pussy in a pepper patch!” Must have something to do with cats.
“It’s hotter than shit sauce!” I don’t know, I’ve never tried shit sauce.
Anyway, the Midwest, like a lot of the country is in the midst of a record-setting heat wave, with temps in the 100’s. It hasn’t rained in God knows how long and everything is brown and dead. Seems like in years past we would sit outside two to three evenings a week in the summertime, watching thunderstorms roll in. My 120+ year old house doesn’t have air conditioning, so we put those window units in a bunch of our windows and spend a lot of time sitting around in our underwear. On days like these they seem to be doing not much other than blowing the hot air around.
I have to admit though, hot summer days sort of have this romantic, sexual appeal. It makes me think of Hemingway sitting at a primitive wooden table, in a rustic shelter in Africa with a cold glass of whiskey and a Royal Deluxe typewriter. It makes me think of beaches and cold drinks and salty, burnt skin.
In fact, just yesterday…
I was out doing some work around my property, digging some holes to repair some of the rotted fence posts around our pastures. I was wearing a pair of Levi’s, heavy work boots and a white, fitted, cotton v-neck t-shirt, worn almost transparent from many years in the washer and dryer. My ripped arms burst out of the sleeves with every shovel full of dry, dusty dirt. Within minutes, hot, searing sweat was dripping down my body, glistening over my pecs and abs and soaking my now see-through shirt. As I worked, the hot sun beat down on my skin, burning and tanning it, deepening the distinguished creases and wrinkles that decorate my face and neck. My hair, coaxed back with salty sweat, styled better than any hair gel could ever provide. Shovel full after shovel full of dirt, my muscles ached with burning pain, rest and cool air the only thing that could ease their desperate misery. My lips, parched and sunburned, craved water, cool and sensual and life-giving.
After a few hours, my wife returned from work and drove into the driveway in a red 1964 Mustang. “Where’s the blue mini-van”, I wondered? As I approached the car, ready to query where it had come from, my thoughts quickly changed as she stepped out, wearing a tight pair of denim, daisy-duke shorts and a plaid, country-girl blouse, tied up in the front.
“Wow, they let you dress like that at work?” I asked.
“Casual Friday,” she replied in a sultry, sexy voice.
“You look good,” I stammered.
“You too” she replied, “you’ve been working?”
“Yeah, for a few hours.”
“Can I get you a glass of ice water?” she offered
“Yeah, that would be great.”
A few minutes later she returned from the house with a large glass of water filled to the brim with ice and with cool, wet condensation running down her arms.
“Tip your head back,” she said.
As I tipped my head back, I could feel her wrap her free arm around me as she pulled her hot, sexy body close to mine. Our burning, luminous sweat mixed as she poured the cold water down my throat and over my chin and chest. As our bodies merged together, her lips touched my ear and she whispered in her steamy, sultry voice….
“Steve, wake up, it’s 8:00 o’clock, Madeline has softball practice at 9:00.”
“Yeah, I know baby, that’s so hot!”
“Hot, what are you talking about? Wake up, it’s 8:00 o’clock, we have to get Madeline to softball practice by 9:00.”
“What… huh…? Oh, yeah, softball practice… alright, alright, I’m awake… I was just dreaming… I think the heat is getting to me…”
So, it is hot where you are? Feel free to share your “hotter than…” quotes. And please… this was purely fictional… my wife doesn’t drive a red 1964 Mustang.
What’s not fictional? It’s definitely “hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut.” I hear it’s supposed to cool off next week!