For a few years after my enlistment ended, I felt like I had some understanding of life and what it was supposed to be, but much of it was still a great mystery to me, and no matter where I looked, or who I talked to, there was always something missing or a there would be a huge hole in their logic, or my logic.
I didn’t use Tumblr very much when I had an account. When I did, I used it as an author platform for myself back when I was still a fledgling writer creating YA fantasy that I was never completely happy with. I was still arrogant as hell when I wrote a couple of posts explaining, from my perspective, what made for good fiction versus bad fiction. Gods, I was so arrogant. But I later discovered that, more and more, there was an adult community growing there as well.
I’ve delayed myself in writing this a few days as I have needed time to think about what I wanted to say, and how I wanted to say it. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, or you’re noticing at this very moment, that badge over to the right of this post. (Probably not, if you’re reading this on mobile) As of a few days ago, I was placed on the list of Top 100 Sex Blogs of 2018, and it has really offset a series of mixed feelings I’ve been having recently about this whole thing I have been working on over the past 2 years I’ve been writing for Forbidden Writings. If you’ll indulge me.
Things have been pretty rough the last couple of months. I told myself this was going to be the year I would start making more regular posts and help this blog really take off. At the start, things were going OK, and I was able to consistently put out a good handful of posts each month. However, I’ve been finding it hard to talk about anything the last few months, other than the Smut Marathon. But last night I was thinking about how there was much I wanted to talk about, and all the story ideas I have literally laying around in composition notebooks and pocket pads and began to wonder why I was feeling this creative wall in front of me.
Earlier today, an article was published by NYTimes writer Ross Douthat titled ‘The Redistribution of Sex’. Which, that fucking title alone is cringy enough to make any vagina go drier than a Sahara desert. But in light of the recent attack in Toronto by a self-proclaimed “incel” in retaliation for not receiving the fornication he felt he deserved. Mr. Douche-hat then goes on to suggest, in elaborate detail and political heehaw, that the idea of a redistribution of sex, the very thing the “incel” movement is asking for, isn’t something we should immediately dismiss. In fact, he believes we should be talking about it more!
Hello, sexy people. It’s been a while since I wrote anything new, and I do apologize for that. It hasn’t been easy lately, with the dreary weather, my landlord only just now getting around to renovating my floors, and work being especially hard lately. Depending on what you believe, you could also blame planets going…
Well, here I am, at my laptop, with a half-finished story on my screen, and I can’t think of how to continue it. I find myself suffering from that great frustration known as writer’s block. I keep telling myself I can push through it if I just sit down and think, but I do so, and I remember why I stepped away in the first place. It’s especially frustrating as I’ve made a promise to you, my readers, that I would provide regular posts, and a new short story every week. I fear I may not be able to guarantee every week at this point.