BardsLady
Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 30, 2003
- Posts
- 255
Doing it the Old Fashoined Way.
Well, I hit 2,310 words last night around 2 am.
The hard part is, I'm writing it all down with good old fashioned pen and paper, then waiting until the hubby goes to bed before writing it into a file.
Last month, my computer ate two hard drives. I dont have the cash to get another computer together. I'm hoping for a laptop when I get the cash. That way I can take it everywhere and type like a madwoman when inspiration hits.
Any suggestions would be nice. However, I've found a cheap laptop in Anaheim, ca dealing at the Computer Warehouse.
Anyways, I gotta run, Keep in touch,
Well, I hit 2,310 words last night around 2 am.
The hard part is, I'm writing it all down with good old fashioned pen and paper, then waiting until the hubby goes to bed before writing it into a file.
Last month, my computer ate two hard drives. I dont have the cash to get another computer together. I'm hoping for a laptop when I get the cash. That way I can take it everywhere and type like a madwoman when inspiration hits.
Any suggestions would be nice. However, I've found a cheap laptop in Anaheim, ca dealing at the Computer Warehouse.
Anyways, I gotta run, Keep in touch,
English Lady
Erotic English Rose
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2002
- Posts
- 48,011
7592 and I am off to watch the match 
Bardslady..i hope you manage to get a good reliable computer soon...keep your stuff on disk in the meantime though!
Bardslady..i hope you manage to get a good reliable computer soon...keep your stuff on disk in the meantime though!
Svenskaflicka
Fountain
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2002
- Posts
- 16,142
Dingus Guy said:
Well, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery...
5.000+, which means I've finished 10% of my story.
Funny, and it isn't until now that it starts to get interesting. Biwa has just been invited to the christmas party that is going to change her life.
I was going to write about it, but I keep falling asleep over the pad and make weird scribbly, spidery lines instead of letters. Either the characters are trying to dictate the story to me, or it's a sign that I should go to sleep and continue tomorrow.
I'm going for Option B. Night, all.
Quiet_Cool
Learning to Fly
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2001
- Posts
- 5,897
1362 right now, but I only wrote a little Monday, and I took lastnight off to watch the election coverage. Back to it, and thing're moving fairly well.
Amazing how well some of you are moving along. Nice work.
Later,
Q_C
Amazing how well some of you are moving along. Nice work.
Later,
Q_C
Black Tulip
Not so delicate flower
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2003
- Posts
- 5,945
I must say, I am surprising myself. Right now I have 6051 words!
The only problem is, I had this background invented and intended to write a short piece as a kind of introduction. Yea right, I'm still writing about what went on before.
I guess that is where the editing comes in after November?
The only problem is, I had this background invented and intended to write a short piece as a kind of introduction. Yea right, I'm still writing about what went on before.
I guess that is where the editing comes in after November?
Quiet_Cool
Learning to Fly
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2001
- Posts
- 5,897
2137 now. But I'm disconnected from it somehow. Can't seem to get with things as I'm putting them down.
Oh, well. Maybe I'm just not in the best of writing moods today. I felt better about it yesterday.
We'll see what tomorrow (and later tonight) brings.
Q_C
Oh, well. Maybe I'm just not in the best of writing moods today. I felt better about it yesterday.
We'll see what tomorrow (and later tonight) brings.
Q_C
Liar
now with 17% more class
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2003
- Posts
- 43,715
Only 650 words today. Too much school, so I didn't have the time.
No big problem since I had a lead, 7667 words now. But let's hope it doesn't become a bad habit.
Keeping the forward momentum.
Or was it...
Keep forwarding the moment?
Peeking-moment for the, um, ward.
Or this anagram of the phrase?
Naked women might refute romp.
Help, how am I ever going to be able to focus if all I see id naked women everythere?
God, I'm sleepy.
#L
No big problem since I had a lead, 7667 words now. But let's hope it doesn't become a bad habit.
Keeping the forward momentum.
Or was it...
Keep forwarding the moment?
Peeking-moment for the, um, ward.
Or this anagram of the phrase?
Naked women might refute romp.
Help, how am I ever going to be able to focus if all I see id naked women everythere?
God, I'm sleepy.
#L
Quiet_Cool
Learning to Fly
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2001
- Posts
- 5,897
Liar said:
Try... focusing on the naked women...
What can I say? I'm a natural born problem-solver...
I'm also inching my way up to 3,000. 2872 currently.
Q_C
Dingus Guy
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2003
- Posts
- 720
Home from work, had some sushi, mmmmm....sushi (drool), now I am ready to write. Yet opening day for my NBA Team, sigh...
Starting at 3059.
Starting at 3059.
English Lady
Erotic English Rose
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2002
- Posts
- 48,011
Well I start the day at litle over 8000 words. I had next to no sleep last night thanks to a toddler, a bout of sneezes and a cat so I am really holding out little hope of getting to 10000 as I want to today....
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,499
Re: Re: Today's developments
Certainly...I think this is the one I have on the NaNo page at the moment.
*********
Vincent looked up from the floor. “You’re here for antiques? Not money or other loot? What do I have that would make you do this?” He watched as the man who’d broken the door began to wander the shop, like he was…listening…for something. The first man shrugged, and tapped his friend on the back.
“We might take that too. What do you think? We need some spending money?”
The gravel voiced man turned and narrowed his gaze on the first invader. “Do you take me for a common thief? I do what is required, no more. I sense it, but it is hidden.” He stepped around the other man to look down at Vincent. “Where is the Heart of the Dragon? I know it is here.”
Vincent began to stand up. He kept his eyes on the man, and shook his head. “It is gone. Are you a Seeker, then?” he asked, his gaze locked with the sparks of the other’s. The man stood more erect and regarded Vincent a moment, then nodded and gave the antique dealer turned pawnbroker a slight bow.
“You know much, it would seem. Much more than I was lead to believe about you. You are no mere shop keeper.” He turned his head towards his companion without actually letting Vincent from his sight. “Search the place. You know what to look for.” The man mumbled an assent and began combing his way through the maze of stacks, displays, and well worn bookshelves that made up D’Angelo’s. “I am, indeed, a Seeker. And you will not oppose me, regardless of what you know.”
He assumed a martial arts pose and began to move through a series of kata. Each new pose was held briefly before it flowed into the next, faster and faster, like the flow of water through an earthen levy that had begun to erode. With each movement, the fire from his eyes intensified, and the flame that had echoed upon his fist began to spread over the rest of his body.
Suddenly, he lunged forward and made to strike at Vincent. The fiery arm extended its hand palm first, but stopped inches from the older man’s chest. The barest split second of time passed, but before Vincent could register that he’d had not actually been struck, the air between the men burst asunder and Vincent went flying backwards into a display case of assorted antique knick-knacks and personal items like snuff boxes, fans, and regal looking court daggers.
He bounced forward off the case, trying to maintain his footing and balance, only to be met by a blue flame encased boot. The assailant’s kick drove Vincent through what remained of the display, and into the wall and the shelving lining it. Again, if someone had been watching closely, they would have seen that the blow actually stopped mere centimeters from Vincent’s body.
This time, Vincent slid down and lay upon the floor and assorted objects dislodged by the impact of his body with them. He looked up the man, his vision somewhat blurred by the power and quickness of the two blows…as well as the glow surrounding the stranger. “I am Kodath,” the man said as he loomed over Vincent. “Dying at my hand gives you the right to know my name.”
*************
There, one snippet...as requested...<g>
Black Tulip said:I do hope you will post snippets now and then, because you definitely made me curious.
Certainly...I think this is the one I have on the NaNo page at the moment.
*********
Vincent looked up from the floor. “You’re here for antiques? Not money or other loot? What do I have that would make you do this?” He watched as the man who’d broken the door began to wander the shop, like he was…listening…for something. The first man shrugged, and tapped his friend on the back.
“We might take that too. What do you think? We need some spending money?”
The gravel voiced man turned and narrowed his gaze on the first invader. “Do you take me for a common thief? I do what is required, no more. I sense it, but it is hidden.” He stepped around the other man to look down at Vincent. “Where is the Heart of the Dragon? I know it is here.”
Vincent began to stand up. He kept his eyes on the man, and shook his head. “It is gone. Are you a Seeker, then?” he asked, his gaze locked with the sparks of the other’s. The man stood more erect and regarded Vincent a moment, then nodded and gave the antique dealer turned pawnbroker a slight bow.
“You know much, it would seem. Much more than I was lead to believe about you. You are no mere shop keeper.” He turned his head towards his companion without actually letting Vincent from his sight. “Search the place. You know what to look for.” The man mumbled an assent and began combing his way through the maze of stacks, displays, and well worn bookshelves that made up D’Angelo’s. “I am, indeed, a Seeker. And you will not oppose me, regardless of what you know.”
He assumed a martial arts pose and began to move through a series of kata. Each new pose was held briefly before it flowed into the next, faster and faster, like the flow of water through an earthen levy that had begun to erode. With each movement, the fire from his eyes intensified, and the flame that had echoed upon his fist began to spread over the rest of his body.
Suddenly, he lunged forward and made to strike at Vincent. The fiery arm extended its hand palm first, but stopped inches from the older man’s chest. The barest split second of time passed, but before Vincent could register that he’d had not actually been struck, the air between the men burst asunder and Vincent went flying backwards into a display case of assorted antique knick-knacks and personal items like snuff boxes, fans, and regal looking court daggers.
He bounced forward off the case, trying to maintain his footing and balance, only to be met by a blue flame encased boot. The assailant’s kick drove Vincent through what remained of the display, and into the wall and the shelving lining it. Again, if someone had been watching closely, they would have seen that the blow actually stopped mere centimeters from Vincent’s body.
This time, Vincent slid down and lay upon the floor and assorted objects dislodged by the impact of his body with them. He looked up the man, his vision somewhat blurred by the power and quickness of the two blows…as well as the glow surrounding the stranger. “I am Kodath,” the man said as he loomed over Vincent. “Dying at my hand gives you the right to know my name.”
*************
There, one snippet...as requested...<g>
Hi Folks
Been out of the loop for a few days! Great to see so many writing far too quickly
Current word count 6034 will attempt some serious scribbling over the next three days.
Here's a passage from an earlier chapter, To set the scene, the woman (Norwegian) mid forties, bad marriage, abusive husband. The man (English) painfully divorced 12 years and sworn off women, he's on an Art's residency in Bergen. The two encounter each other and spend six tense weeks before taking the plunge to communicate. The scene takes place after they take an early morning skinny-dip in the fjord, there resting on the shore in the early morning sunshine.
“Did I wake you?” He asked.
“I wasn’t asleep.” She struggled from her position and turned so she lay across his chest, Simon’s arms cradling her. “I was fixing these few hours in my memory. I don’t know if I will ever do anything like this again, with you.” Her grey hazel-flecked eyes bored into his seeking solace, confirmation.
“Would you want to?”
She considered his question, her eyes leaving his, as if seeking for the right answer in another place.
“I’m not sure that is a fair question. You could construe too much by any answer I gave, be it yes or no. Why haven’t you kissed me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It might be nice.”
“Then why haven’t you kissed me?”
She didn’t reply immediately, then said, “I’m not sure either of us would want to stop with just a kiss. A kiss, of the type you intend, implies intimacy on an altogether different level. I may be wrong, but I have the feeling you are not ready to take that step, your ‘thick skin’ just conceals an inner fragility. I’m not prying. There will be, God willing, plenty of opportunity to explore and understand each of our fears.”
Simon weighed her words carefully; she had almost answered his earlier question with this answer, yet her casual nudity implied intimacy by Simon’s standards.
“So kissing would be intimate but being naked before me is not intimate. Should I be worried about that?”
“Simon, you surely don’t think I behave like this normally! There are many strands here that you need to understand.” She sat up and kneeled facing him, her face and eyes alert to the challenge of educating him and seeming quite oblivious to his nakedness and the now open front of the blanket that did little to conceal her own body.
“Let us dispense first of all with you seeing me naked.” She shrugged the blanket from her shoulders letting it fall to gather in folds around her hips. “I have no problem with you seeing me like this. When you look at me I don’t feel threatened sexually, I don’t feel sexual scrutiny from you, though I’m sure it is present, your metabolism will react like any man’s when faced by a naked woman. We already know that it so and it gives me pleasure to know I am physically attractive to you. Do you understand? I’m not explaining myself very well.”
“Yes you are, continue please.”
She took a deep breath as if she were about to enter new territory.
“I want you to look at me. You have triggered a recklessness that I barely knew I possessed. I am a very private person with a strong extrovert streak. That sounds contradictory but I assure you it is quite normal with people who contain their emotional character. When you look at me it is quite different from the way most men look at me, you are not looking at my body, wondering about my breasts or how good a bed partner I might be. Your look is similar to the way a woman looks at another woman; it is an appreciation of a person who just happens to be a woman, you look beneath the surface because that is where you seek the truth. Am I right?”
“In most respects. There are other issues, personal issues. But yes, I wanted to know you, the person.”
“This intimate nakedness is completely new to me. I’ve never behaved like this before, never wanted to display myself before a man in the way I’m doing now. Maybe I’m completely wrong and all I’m doing is trying to make you regard me sexually.”
“That should be the least of your concerns. I find myself, much to my own consternation, immensely attracted by you… in every way. In fact, I’m somewhat embarrassed by my condition, I’d not expected to experience excitement of this nature again. As far as your nakedness is concerned, I feel privileged, humbled by knowing you trust me . And yes, it is intimate and I worry terribly to be naked before you and that someone may happen along and see us together like this.”
She dwelled upon Simon’s words deciphering that an underlying problem existed and not sure whether he wanted to pursue that at this time. She decided to deal with it later.
“Partly that is the Anglo-Saxon in you…”
“There is a good deal of Viking blood mixed with that Anglo-Saxon.”
“Yes… but that was then and this is now. We are both different races drawing on cultures that bear scant regard to our time and we both persist in stereotyping modern behaviour to past culture. I’m doing it myself, labelling you as Anglo-Saxon, though generically traits of behaviour can be universally applied to a race. Often quite incorrectly since we confuse myth and culture and apply the wrong generic traits.”
“You mean, like the Anglo-Saxon male’s perception of loose Nordic women.”
She laughed. “Damn. I knew I should have put some clothes on.”
That sat looking at each other both knowing they had taken a first step, neither sure where it would lead. Perhaps for the first time Simon looked at her as if he wanted to possess her body, she felt this shift and while it didn’t perturb her, it made her self conscious of her nudity, not to Simon, but to anyone else that might decide on an early morning swim, she could do without that added complication to her life.
“Simon, I’m going to dress. It has nothing to do with anything you’ve said or done, I can’t believe I’m apologising for not being undressed! I don’t really want to be seen here naked, this is a very small town and gossip spreads.”
“It’s ok. We really ought to be more circumspect.”
She reached for her clothes and dressed, panties first, there was very little of her now that he had not seen, she knelt before him and pulled her tee-shirt over her head.
“I think I enjoy watching you dress and undress almost as much as seeing you naked, that is slightly strange isn’t it.” Simon said as he reached for his own clothes.
“Not to my mind, there is an added sensuality in the act of disrobing that heightens sexual awareness, though I would prefer to be in a woman’s changing room than a man’s, men’s bodies can be quite repelling. I can’t abide men with too much body hair, men with hair at the base of their spines actually make me feel physically sick.” She watched him tie the laces of his sneakers.
“Do you think we can go back to your apartment?” She asked, “I desperately need to sleep, just for a couple of hours. I don’t want to return to my home.”
He noted the quiet plea in her voice; she required a refuge, from whom, or what, he was uncertain and knew better than to ask questions.
“Of course. You can sleep as long as you need. I’ll go to the studio, you can be quite alone.”
“Thank you.” She said, “I think we could both do with a few hours apart to take a measure of things.”
They gathered their few trappings and set back along the promenade walking side by side.
“What you said about Anglo-Saxon males,” she said, “it is almost the perfect example. Southern Europeans rarely visit Nordic countries except in the summer; even then, July and August are rarely as warm as these last few days have been. We northern women rejoice at the slightest hint of sunshine, we want to feel the sun on our skin, conditioned of course by the magazine propaganda of tanned blondes being the male’s ideal mate. We shed our clothes as soon as the sun beckons, wear skimpy outfits in temperatures where southern Europeans wear overcoats.
Not to mention that most of us are slim and small breasted and can go bra-less, a condition brought about by centuries of malnourishment and little to do with current fashion trends, though there are feminism issues involved that are more prevalent in northern women. Our nipples punch at the fabric hardened by the cool air and we have a proclivity to our gait that hints at lewdness because we are so unused to feeling our bare thighs one against the other.” Simon was crying with laughter. “Our thighs spend three hundred and sixty days each year in blissful isolation and suddenly they are expected to smooch without so much as an introduction. And you southern Europeans visit us and label us as ‘loose women’. Well to hell and back with that, that is stereotyping.
We have no problem with being naked in public, at a barbecue or the beach, in fact, we are told, by magazines again, that topless is more or less obligatory on southern European beaches, so we practice so as not to be embarrassed when we arrive. In any case, there are generic traits involved in social as opposed to intimate nudity. If you saw the tiny cabins that whole families used to live in up until fifty or so years ago you would understand that social nudity was a fact of family life. That doesn’t mean we bolted the door and stripped, there was very little room for privacy, we learned to turn a blind eye to others dressing and undressing in the smallness of the room, rather like the Japanese who live in such close proximity one to another that they have learnt to exclude all noise beyond their paper thin walls.
Why do you think we invented box beds with doors, it was the only way to obtain any privacy.
Why are you laughing? It’s all true.”
“I’m sure it is, and I have, truly, wondered about the funny way you walk.” He stepped aside to avoid a mock swipe at his arm. “But surely the box beds were invented to keep out the cold, and didn’t I read somewhere that infants were placed in them to be secure from the mountain wolves.”
“Well, you may have a point, there were those considerations involved. But I have to tell you, the first two or three days each year when a girl sheds her trousers are accompanied by some very private sensations. I’m sure more babies are conceived at the first hint of summer than at any other time of the year. My daughter was.”
Been out of the loop for a few days! Great to see so many writing far too quickly
Current word count 6034 will attempt some serious scribbling over the next three days.
Here's a passage from an earlier chapter, To set the scene, the woman (Norwegian) mid forties, bad marriage, abusive husband. The man (English) painfully divorced 12 years and sworn off women, he's on an Art's residency in Bergen. The two encounter each other and spend six tense weeks before taking the plunge to communicate. The scene takes place after they take an early morning skinny-dip in the fjord, there resting on the shore in the early morning sunshine.
“Did I wake you?” He asked.
“I wasn’t asleep.” She struggled from her position and turned so she lay across his chest, Simon’s arms cradling her. “I was fixing these few hours in my memory. I don’t know if I will ever do anything like this again, with you.” Her grey hazel-flecked eyes bored into his seeking solace, confirmation.
“Would you want to?”
She considered his question, her eyes leaving his, as if seeking for the right answer in another place.
“I’m not sure that is a fair question. You could construe too much by any answer I gave, be it yes or no. Why haven’t you kissed me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It might be nice.”
“Then why haven’t you kissed me?”
She didn’t reply immediately, then said, “I’m not sure either of us would want to stop with just a kiss. A kiss, of the type you intend, implies intimacy on an altogether different level. I may be wrong, but I have the feeling you are not ready to take that step, your ‘thick skin’ just conceals an inner fragility. I’m not prying. There will be, God willing, plenty of opportunity to explore and understand each of our fears.”
Simon weighed her words carefully; she had almost answered his earlier question with this answer, yet her casual nudity implied intimacy by Simon’s standards.
“So kissing would be intimate but being naked before me is not intimate. Should I be worried about that?”
“Simon, you surely don’t think I behave like this normally! There are many strands here that you need to understand.” She sat up and kneeled facing him, her face and eyes alert to the challenge of educating him and seeming quite oblivious to his nakedness and the now open front of the blanket that did little to conceal her own body.
“Let us dispense first of all with you seeing me naked.” She shrugged the blanket from her shoulders letting it fall to gather in folds around her hips. “I have no problem with you seeing me like this. When you look at me I don’t feel threatened sexually, I don’t feel sexual scrutiny from you, though I’m sure it is present, your metabolism will react like any man’s when faced by a naked woman. We already know that it so and it gives me pleasure to know I am physically attractive to you. Do you understand? I’m not explaining myself very well.”
“Yes you are, continue please.”
She took a deep breath as if she were about to enter new territory.
“I want you to look at me. You have triggered a recklessness that I barely knew I possessed. I am a very private person with a strong extrovert streak. That sounds contradictory but I assure you it is quite normal with people who contain their emotional character. When you look at me it is quite different from the way most men look at me, you are not looking at my body, wondering about my breasts or how good a bed partner I might be. Your look is similar to the way a woman looks at another woman; it is an appreciation of a person who just happens to be a woman, you look beneath the surface because that is where you seek the truth. Am I right?”
“In most respects. There are other issues, personal issues. But yes, I wanted to know you, the person.”
“This intimate nakedness is completely new to me. I’ve never behaved like this before, never wanted to display myself before a man in the way I’m doing now. Maybe I’m completely wrong and all I’m doing is trying to make you regard me sexually.”
“That should be the least of your concerns. I find myself, much to my own consternation, immensely attracted by you… in every way. In fact, I’m somewhat embarrassed by my condition, I’d not expected to experience excitement of this nature again. As far as your nakedness is concerned, I feel privileged, humbled by knowing you trust me . And yes, it is intimate and I worry terribly to be naked before you and that someone may happen along and see us together like this.”
She dwelled upon Simon’s words deciphering that an underlying problem existed and not sure whether he wanted to pursue that at this time. She decided to deal with it later.
“Partly that is the Anglo-Saxon in you…”
“There is a good deal of Viking blood mixed with that Anglo-Saxon.”
“Yes… but that was then and this is now. We are both different races drawing on cultures that bear scant regard to our time and we both persist in stereotyping modern behaviour to past culture. I’m doing it myself, labelling you as Anglo-Saxon, though generically traits of behaviour can be universally applied to a race. Often quite incorrectly since we confuse myth and culture and apply the wrong generic traits.”
“You mean, like the Anglo-Saxon male’s perception of loose Nordic women.”
She laughed. “Damn. I knew I should have put some clothes on.”
That sat looking at each other both knowing they had taken a first step, neither sure where it would lead. Perhaps for the first time Simon looked at her as if he wanted to possess her body, she felt this shift and while it didn’t perturb her, it made her self conscious of her nudity, not to Simon, but to anyone else that might decide on an early morning swim, she could do without that added complication to her life.
“Simon, I’m going to dress. It has nothing to do with anything you’ve said or done, I can’t believe I’m apologising for not being undressed! I don’t really want to be seen here naked, this is a very small town and gossip spreads.”
“It’s ok. We really ought to be more circumspect.”
She reached for her clothes and dressed, panties first, there was very little of her now that he had not seen, she knelt before him and pulled her tee-shirt over her head.
“I think I enjoy watching you dress and undress almost as much as seeing you naked, that is slightly strange isn’t it.” Simon said as he reached for his own clothes.
“Not to my mind, there is an added sensuality in the act of disrobing that heightens sexual awareness, though I would prefer to be in a woman’s changing room than a man’s, men’s bodies can be quite repelling. I can’t abide men with too much body hair, men with hair at the base of their spines actually make me feel physically sick.” She watched him tie the laces of his sneakers.
“Do you think we can go back to your apartment?” She asked, “I desperately need to sleep, just for a couple of hours. I don’t want to return to my home.”
He noted the quiet plea in her voice; she required a refuge, from whom, or what, he was uncertain and knew better than to ask questions.
“Of course. You can sleep as long as you need. I’ll go to the studio, you can be quite alone.”
“Thank you.” She said, “I think we could both do with a few hours apart to take a measure of things.”
They gathered their few trappings and set back along the promenade walking side by side.
“What you said about Anglo-Saxon males,” she said, “it is almost the perfect example. Southern Europeans rarely visit Nordic countries except in the summer; even then, July and August are rarely as warm as these last few days have been. We northern women rejoice at the slightest hint of sunshine, we want to feel the sun on our skin, conditioned of course by the magazine propaganda of tanned blondes being the male’s ideal mate. We shed our clothes as soon as the sun beckons, wear skimpy outfits in temperatures where southern Europeans wear overcoats.
Not to mention that most of us are slim and small breasted and can go bra-less, a condition brought about by centuries of malnourishment and little to do with current fashion trends, though there are feminism issues involved that are more prevalent in northern women. Our nipples punch at the fabric hardened by the cool air and we have a proclivity to our gait that hints at lewdness because we are so unused to feeling our bare thighs one against the other.” Simon was crying with laughter. “Our thighs spend three hundred and sixty days each year in blissful isolation and suddenly they are expected to smooch without so much as an introduction. And you southern Europeans visit us and label us as ‘loose women’. Well to hell and back with that, that is stereotyping.
We have no problem with being naked in public, at a barbecue or the beach, in fact, we are told, by magazines again, that topless is more or less obligatory on southern European beaches, so we practice so as not to be embarrassed when we arrive. In any case, there are generic traits involved in social as opposed to intimate nudity. If you saw the tiny cabins that whole families used to live in up until fifty or so years ago you would understand that social nudity was a fact of family life. That doesn’t mean we bolted the door and stripped, there was very little room for privacy, we learned to turn a blind eye to others dressing and undressing in the smallness of the room, rather like the Japanese who live in such close proximity one to another that they have learnt to exclude all noise beyond their paper thin walls.
Why do you think we invented box beds with doors, it was the only way to obtain any privacy.
Why are you laughing? It’s all true.”
“I’m sure it is, and I have, truly, wondered about the funny way you walk.” He stepped aside to avoid a mock swipe at his arm. “But surely the box beds were invented to keep out the cold, and didn’t I read somewhere that infants were placed in them to be secure from the mountain wolves.”
“Well, you may have a point, there were those considerations involved. But I have to tell you, the first two or three days each year when a girl sheds her trousers are accompanied by some very private sensations. I’m sure more babies are conceived at the first hint of summer than at any other time of the year. My daughter was.”
oggbashan
Dying Truth seeker
- Joined
- Jul 3, 2002
- Posts
- 56,017
Current total 5395.
The plot is running out. I might manage another few thousand words but this plot won't last to 50,000.
Back to the drawing (plotting) board.
I can't even link the story so far to other threads of plot.
Perhaps I'll have to have several short stories as my 50,000.
Irritated Og.
PS. I'm probably distracted by political activities. Another meeting tonight and four evening meetings next week. Why did I promise to 'save' our community? Actually I didn't. The local reporter put words into my mouth that I didn't say. All I SAID was that I would try to help.
The plot is running out. I might manage another few thousand words but this plot won't last to 50,000.
Back to the drawing (plotting) board.
I can't even link the story so far to other threads of plot.
Perhaps I'll have to have several short stories as my 50,000.
Irritated Og.
PS. I'm probably distracted by political activities. Another meeting tonight and four evening meetings next week. Why did I promise to 'save' our community? Actually I didn't. The local reporter put words into my mouth that I didn't say. All I SAID was that I would try to help.
G
Guest
Guest
Og, just take it as it comes. You did great last year, and if this one turns out as a series of linked shorts like that one did, that's cool.
Who knows, maybe one of your characters will do something unexpected and take the plot in a whole new direction. That's happened to me already.
I really must get my brain in gear and concentrate on my writing. Too much going on for me right now! It will pass, though, and I'll be back on track.
Lou
Who knows, maybe one of your characters will do something unexpected and take the plot in a whole new direction. That's happened to me already.
I really must get my brain in gear and concentrate on my writing. Too much going on for me right now! It will pass, though, and I'll be back on track.
Lou
CrimsonMaiden
Pretty in Pink
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2004
- Posts
- 13,481
I'm doomed... nuff said.
cheerful_deviant
Head of the Flock
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2004
- Posts
- 10,487
CrimsonMaiden said:
Join the club.
English Lady
Erotic English Rose
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2002
- Posts
- 48,011
about 8100 now...and i just can't get myself to do any more. I know why..I'm tired and my brain just won't think creatively. I'll have another go in a bit...but I think i may just have to leave it at that and catch up post my non-writing weekend.
Liar
now with 17% more class
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2003
- Posts
- 43,715
Well, I'll be damned, writing without a plot is yielding some really interresting results. My female lead just had the one night stand of a lifetime, and just woke up, sweaty, half comatose and buck naked in this stranger's bed.
10226 words have made it onto file so far. I think I can get to 11000 today if the right inspiration hits. Now I think I have deserved a break and a cuppa java.
Keep them fingers typing, everyone!
#L
10226 words have made it onto file so far. I think I can get to 11000 today if the right inspiration hits. Now I think I have deserved a break and a cuppa java.
Keep them fingers typing, everyone!
#L
Lucifer_Carroll
GOATS!!!
- Joined
- May 4, 2004
- Posts
- 3,319
I'm just posting to say I'm still going even though this has been hell week in RL. I'll give a count after the weekend when I think I'll have a bit more.
Svenskaflicka
Fountain
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2002
- Posts
- 16,142
oggbashan said:
Do what you did to Magdalena and her husband in TWCSE, ogg - babble incoherently!
Svenskaflicka
Fountain
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2002
- Posts
- 16,142
Another 1.900+ words under the belt. I'm slowly but steadily moving forward. Thank goodness I have m plotline written out, or I'd never have made it through this boring start. I need to do some heavy editing in December, or my readers will fall asleep before they get to the fun parts!
In today's episode, Biwa and Kiyaru woke up in bed together, in each others' arms. MAJOR homophobic scene!
In today's episode, Biwa and Kiyaru woke up in bed together, in each others' arms. MAJOR homophobic scene!
Svenskaflicka
Fountain
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2002
- Posts
- 16,142
My personal favourite scene is when Biwa tries to check if she's still a virgin, and she's got the hangover of the century.
