Motivation is fleeting. It comes from many sources, and you have to use them when they are in place, or face losing them and having to find a new one. I admit, I was not motivated much during the past year. Divorce and major changes in your life has a way of playing Debbie Downer with your soul, leaving you unable to do the things you SHOULD do and LOVE to do, but which you also know require WORK and EFFORT. Writing is like that for me. It’s work, it’s effort, it’s at times almost drudgery… and yet I love it, I love formulating a great phrase, creating a memorable character.
So this past week I’ve been very motivated. I’ve gone through old half written stories or nearly finished ones and tidied them up, added to them, and finished a few. I’ve always been a fan of working on multiple stories at once. It gives me a chance to change things up and work on something different and fresh, because after a few days or weeks of seeing the same words and same characters… well, you start to get a little tired of it. Short stories are certainly easier as well, since you don’t have to work on them as long.
I’ve already published two new stories, one of which I posted here. Today the third has gone live, and I’m very proud of this one because the short scene I wrote was the catalyst for the story and character in Showing Off. Some of the elements are already in place here – a spurned woman (this time still married); a hot stranger; the way her “tingle” talks to her; a little background humor; and of course, hot hot HOT sex. Enjoy! You can find it at Amazon or Smashwords (soon to be at B&N and other fine retailers for e-download).
Some men simply won’t be resisted…
Life was supposed to be perfect for Kaitlin. Her husband provided her with a gorgeous house, a nice car, exotic vacations… everything she thought she wanted when she was younger. But what she doesn’t have is his passion, or the pleasure of his attention in the bedroom. She knows he spends what should be hers at the office on his secretary. Spurned once more, she turns her frustrations towards a local bar, where a chance meeting with a handsome Irish rogue could be just the balm she needs to soothe her wounded pride, and ease her aching needs.
Tonight I pull on a fresh pair of more conservative undies and a matching bra, then a knee-length brown skirt and white blouse. A pair of pumps completes the outfit, then a little powder for the cheeks, fix up the mascara, pull my auburn hair back in a ponytail, and I grab my purse, cell phone and keys and head out the door. There is no particular destination in mind, just a desire to get out for once without family or husband and enjoy a quiet evening alone, have a drink.
I drive slowly around the back roads near home for a while, letting the tires roll where they want to go. By now the tingling below has stopped, and I feel barren and empty, and very tired. My wheels and I truck along, rolling down the steep hill on Main Street to the stop light. Before I clear town by heading under the train tracks and out past the diner, I notice the bar on the corner to my right. I turn up the side street to find a parking spot, then walk my tired ass back down the short hill and enter, the jingle of the bell over the door greeting me.