Bev, I love your poem. I must have missed it last year, which makes me sad because then I did not get to tell you how beautiful it was and praise and pet you as you deserve. *adds a few extra hairpats for good measure*

I feel like I'm spamming the thread, even though I've only posted two drabbles. The problem is, I've got another. I think sleep-deprivation and the semi-delirium I've been walking around with today have allowed things to come slightly unhinged. It's very creative, but slightly unnerving. If you don't want another, tell me. I'll slink away quietly.

Give us another! Give us another!

I love it when somebody gets on a creative wave. It inspires (if we're ((I'm)) lucky) the rest of us.

Okay, you asked for it. This is the goooood stuff. Ummm, by that I mean, raunchy.

Holding On

I didn’t know how much longer I could hold onto it. Incredible tension in my belly and thighs. A fine trembling coursed up and down my legs, I could feel my ass quivering almost painfully. Arms clenching and grasping, slipping off, reaching back around, digging in as the motion continued, tension kept building. Can’t think, just feel. The tight clench of muscles, the desire to hold onto that elusive thing that just won’t stay put. Come back to me, come back to me, with every thrust until I’m filled to bursting. And I fall and I fly, full of him.

Woo!

Hem. I mean, very nice. Very nice indeed. Yes.

Wooohooo! Hot.

Heh. Don't tell them at work. I had to go take a walk to cool myself down when I was done writing. Hee.

It's going to be nice to get back to writing, including some porn.

Off to read erika's.

Bev, your poem is gorgeous. Oh my goodness. Painful and poignant. It brought tears to my eyes, literally.

Sail's drabble is rrrrow.

I've been mulling the voice meme. The reader part is easy. My problem with the writer portion is, at least with fiction, I don't want to have a voice/style that makes people say, "Oh, that's Connie/riani1/Two Ladies", I want them to get lost in the story without thinking "That sentence/paragraph, that's so her."

I suppose one of the drabbles here is probably the most likely to hold something that could encapsulate "voice." Anything less than a large chunk, and it's like pointing out that I can high C while singing. A properly trained pig can probably hit high C (on some piggy scale). It means nothing to my singing as a whole.

Back to mulling.

I was a bit torn between the scene I chose, and that part that they quote in "The Documentary" "You have the right to remain silent. You're a criminal. Criminals always have the right to remain silent." I'm silly about that book, but it really did change my life.

I don't want to have a voice/style that makes people say, "Oh, that's Connie/riani1/Two Ladies", I want them to get lost in the story without thinking "That sentence/paragraph, that's so her."

Nonsense. Sorry, but that's self-destructive nonsense. Truly. And if I didn't think you could write, I wouldn't bother with what I'm about to say, so for heaven's sake, take this as a positive and don't get defensive over it:

One of the first things you learn as a fiction writer is that those two are not only not mutually exclusive - they actually nourish each other. You're going to shoot yourself in the foot if you try to shove your voice in a drawer. Your voice is a solid percentage of the story.

I can't think of a single writer of fiction that I've ever admired - from Shirley Jackson to Robertson Davies to Roger Zelazny to Michael Chabon - who didn't do precisely that nourishing thing.

And of COURSE you want to have a voice. What you want is for your voice to take your reader by the hand, sit them down, and echo in their internal ears for hours, as they get lost in the story you're weaving, and they trustingly follow that Pied Piper voice down the road of your choosing.

It's after you say "the end" that you want them to say wow, that's so connie.

Embrace that. It's what makes a storyteller. Anything else is inverted snobbery and will keep you from taking that journey.