Tuesday, June 06, 2006

I love deadlines...

...I love the whooshing noise they make as they rush past...

I think that's Douglas Adams, but anyway. Since summer has arrived I've parked a chair on the grass outside and started trying to untangle the next novel. funny how with one image - for this one, a woman in an attic-like studio flat - has enough resonances and possibilities to give birth to a whole, convoluted beginning, muddle and end.

Only writing erotica, there's so many ideas that have been flogged beyond death. Escapism - is that really all we're looking for in an erotic book? Those worthy, well-written books are so often not sexy, but I'm getting tired of pneumatic women who keep presenting themselves to me as characters. And the dominant, powerful, mysterious males. Are these archetypes, or just lazy figments of my imagination? If anyone has any answers and would like to tell me who they find sexy, the less obvious the better - I'd be grateful. Meanwhile, I'm off to play around with a deserted hotel with an overgrown swimming pool and dustsheets everywhere.

In my head, I mean...

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