Monday, December 23, 2013

Thank you!

There's a squirrel outside my window, grooming himself on a tree, wondering where the branch he used to live on has gone and what he's supposed to do now. He's been out there for a few hours now, just sitting, trying to figure out where to live now that  the ice storm has destroyed his home.

We're pretty lucky the whole tree didn't go down. It's an old one and weathered many storms, but there's always the chance that this might've been the one to take it down.

But that's how life rolls, right?

We live our life like all is good until we hit that point when everything changes, then we walk a different path and keep on going forward until we can't go forward anymore.

Except sometimes we get stuck when really bad things happen and we sit there like the little squirrel wondering what to do, what to do, what to do and it takes a bit of a prod, and sometimes a hefty push, to get us moving forward again.

The point of the story is, that I've been like the little squirrel for a while now. Sitting on a branch and not really moving forward, because life is damn hard.  It really is. And it drags me down.

About six weeks ago, I had a casual conversation with a good friend, who said, "You know, you're doing fine. You're doing really good. And what you're writing is great, but it's dragging on too long. You need a break. Do something short and different, and this--this I KNOW you can do. A thousand words a day and in a month you'll have a short story."

I thought about it. About all the excuses I use to hold me back and about how good it would feel to have something DONE. Finally. Something I could hold up in my hands and say, despite the odds, I did it. And the odds really are high, people. There's just so much that gets in the way of the process from idea--first word--and the end.

So the choice was mine. Sit there like the little squirrel on the branch or go outside my safe zone and explore the tree to see what other homes it had to offer.

I probably couldn't have picked a worse time to take on that kind of challenge. My beloved kitty, my little writing buddy, had just passed. A workplace strike was about to begin, and physically I was exhausted as my MS symptoms decided to flare up, making even carrying a plate to the kitchen sink a problem.

But maybe that's why I did it. Because no matter how crazy life gets, you should never just sit on the branch when there's a whole tree waiting for you to explore. You should always take that chance to learn what you're made of.

So I did it. Not a thousand words a day like the plan. Sometimes only a hundred, but then on others, when my mind was clear and my fingers not so numb,  three thousand or so words blessed me from the great bucket of inspiration in the sky. And six weeks after I began this little challenge, I now have a shiny new story I can hold in my hands and be proud of.

Against the odds, I did it.

And yeah, it feels really, really awesome. Like I've hit the ball out of the park and ran a home run. There isn't any cheering crowd, but that's not what I'm in this for.

I love writing. I love living.

Thank you, Maya Blake for showing me there's a whole tree to explore and for all your words of wisdom. You've made a difference in my world.

And thank you Sutton Fox, for walking with me on this six week journey, holding my hand when the doubt monster scratched at my door, and never letting me give up.

And to Autumn Piper, KJ Roberts and all my writing pals...thank you. It's been a long journey for me, but with your help and encouragement, I got there in the end.

And to you, the person reading this blog right now, thank you for taking an interest in my small corner of the world.

Your support means everything to me.

Thank you!


~Felicity Kates; author of fun, flirty, fantasies~
~Kate Reedwood: Steampunk novels for adventurous girls~

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Dundurn Castle--A Victorian Experience. Part 2: The downstairs

Descending a narrow back staircase revealed a stark contrast between the upstairs and downstairs worlds of Dundurn Castle.

Gone was the light and airy, ornamental atmosphere of richness and grandeur. In its stead were rough stone floors, whitewashed brick walls, and halls filled with darkness, breached by the occasional light from an ensconced candle or two. But for all it's utilitarian appearance, there was a warmth downstairs I had not perceived in the rooms above. An affability perhaps brought about by the nature and purpose of the people who had worked and lived in these rooms.

Caring for a noble household is by no means a small task. Certainly such servitude was, and still is, filled with endless days of bone aching weariness and toil. Yet I doubt very much that the people working in Dundurn Castle would have considered it an unfair chore to be assigned such duties while the MacNab family reaped the benefits from their hard work. There was a sense of pride in a job well done, not to mention a sense of security brought by a hot meal and a warm bed at the end of the day.

Being hired by a wealthy house was a good position during a time when everyone worked hard to scrape a living from dawn until dusk. The employ of a person such as Sir Allan MacNab also brought with it a certain amount of social esteem, especially when said employer was keen enough to consider comforts such as building windows in the outside facing rooms of the basement, providing an abundance of light in what would otherwise have been endless gloom.

Basement staircase.
Used only by servants, the division of social classes reigned supreme in 1835. Servants went upstairs to clean and do their chores never to socialize with the MacNab family. Lady MacNab directed the butler (Wellington--is there a more fitting name for a butler?) and the cook (Old Anne--not Mrs. Patmore, unfortunately, though much of the castle downstairs did remind me of Downton Abbey) who in turn directed the lesser staff.
Without electricity, lighting was a problem throughout the house, especially downstairs where the rooms were dark and the floors uneven. Each window in this house was imported from England by boat, an expensive journey for glass to make. Yet MacNab allotted one, sometimes three or four windows to be built in the basement walls, providing an abundance of sunshine to reach the servants below, assisting them with their tasks and cutting costs on candles, oil and eventually gas lamps.

The cook's bedroom.
No windows here as you can see, and probably quite cozy because of it as windows were single paned and though they let in light, they also let in winter drafts. Bed, cupboard, pretty paper on the walls, a small mirror for dressing; functional simplicity with a personal touch of pictures and framed photos.
Small washstand in the cook's bedroom.
The dairy room.
That's a round of cheese under the netting (to keep insects at bay)on the table and eggs in their holder.
Milk was gathered from the estate cows and churned into butter. Just imagine the taste of that fresh butter
on fresh baked bread, still warm from the oven...YUM! This room is clean and efficient, just like all of Dundurn Castle. No refrigerators, but perishables were kept in a lead lined chest and this whole room was kept cool by it's proximity to...The Ice Pit.

This is The Ice Pit.
What is an ice pit, you ask? It's a remarkable natural refrigeration system, which allowed Dundurn Castle to enjoy the benefits of icecold goodness all year round. I know, from having gone cave exploring a time or two, that water can stay frozen underground when surrounded by rock and out of the light, even in the high heat of summer. The same goes for this deep pit, chiselled into the stone. Blocks of ice were cut on the bay during winter and hauled back to the estate, where they were lowered into the pit (I'm guessing that window at the top would have served as a chute) and packed with straw to keep it insulated. It must have been an interesting job to cut off a chunk when needed for use in the dairy or other rooms. But what a luxury--ice even in the hot, humid summer. Impressive to serve cold drinks to guests, not to mention chilled deserts. Ice cream anyone?

The brewery.
What grand house can possibly exist without it's very own brewery? The beer produced would
have been primarily for the serving staff.

The Kitchen.
All of the beautiful light in this room is coming from the widows. Cheery and clean, it boasted this fireplace for pots and kettles as well as an impressive cast iron stove and oven for baking.
Wash basins in the kitchen.
Scrub brush for cleaning and soap in a basket. Water came down the wooden chute with a hand pump
attached. Dishes were washed in a separate scullery room.

One of the historical cooks left open their recipe book. This room was warm and cheery and smelled

Hells bells.
 These bells in the kitchen were the receiving end of the bell pulls secreted in the upstairs rooms. Each had it's own distinctive ring and signalled when one the household required attention. Like an old fashioned pager system, they no doubt had a habit of going off when a person was most busy with another task and I can well imagine the sighs from the staff followed by a muttered, "What does she want NOW?"

Nom, nom, nom :)
The kitchen is probably the highlight of the downstairs tour in that the Castle cook likes to give out samples of real food to try. By real food, I mean, food prepared from ingredients grown on the estate garden, using heritage seed and heritage recipes. No preservatives or processed shortcuts here. Those tomatoes were still warm from the sun and tasted divine. The kids in the group were allowed to sample shortbread. There was also fresh baked bread and a jam which looked like strawberry but was actually made from tomatoes and tasted wonderful. My son, who hates jam, tied some and loved it! There's something to be said for authentic cooking. Makes me wish I had more time.

The laundry.
The laundress was one of the few servants hired on as needed each week and considered a specialist. Most homes would not have their own room set aside for laundry (most homes were single story and four rooms total with a loft accessed by ladder) so having a laundry room was indeed a luxury.

To see the process of dressing a Victorian lady, please take a looksee at the video on this site as it explains quite well the layering of clothes. But here we see several different types of corsets, as well as a shift. Underclothes were washed regularly but the gowns overtop were generally dusted and pressed as needed, stains removed carefully with a cloth so as not to ruin the fabrics.

Hate ironing? These beasts were cast iron and weighed 25lbs or more and had to be heated on the stove. Their different shapes were designed for their different purposes as EVERYTHING had to be pressed, including the little frills and flounces on silk gowns, silk stockings and lace. Starch helped keep the proper shape of cravats and such, but had a tendency to flake if overdone. No ironing boards, instead there was a table, shaped to assist with sleeves. A huge amount of work to keep clothes pristine. Permanent press fabrics are the best thing since sliced bread, which of course they didn't have back in 1835 either.

The Servant's Dining room.
I am ending this tour of Dundurn Castle on my favourite room in the whole house. Here is where the servants sat to break their fast at the beginning of the day, and break their bread at the end of it. Together they would gossip about the comings and goings upstairs, chat about what needed to be done as far as chores, and take much needed rest in each other's company. I can almost hear the murmurs and laughter, the gentle tink of crockery, the scrape of a chair on the wooden floor. There was such a sense of warmth here, in the brightly lit window seats and comfortable cushions. I could easily have stayed here all day, exploring the scents and textures of everything, reliving the mood of the room, and writing.

However, all good tours must come to an end, including this one. There were many more rooms to see both above and below stairs, not to mention the grounds to explore, I have given only a highlight. However, if you are interested in further information about Dundurn Castle (including wonderful colour pictures), life in Canada during the early 19th century and the rise and fall of Sir Allan MacNab, an excellent source book can be found here:
and also
Thanks for stopping by!

Monday, August 26, 2013

Dundurn Castle--A Victorian Experience: Part 1 The Upstairs

Dundurn Castle is a historic treasure which can be found in Hamilton, Ontario, about a 40 minute drive west of Toronto on the shore of Lake Ontario. While not a true 'castle' it is certainly a gorgeous example of a Victorian mansion built in the early 18oo's, when Canada was on the cusp of becoming a full fledged country. It's a truly remarkable estate (now a museum), consisting of a full upstairs for the family to reside in as well as downstairs for the servants, an enormous garden, a cock house (for cock fights out of sight of the delicate ladies), vast acres of parkland and a gate house (now a military museum which is also worth checking out and included in the admission to see the Castle)--all built during a time when most colonist's homes were a field stone cottage at best, but more likely a wooden cabin.

For the locals, Dundurn Castle would have been as opulent as you could get, a home built to entertain high-society and visiting nobility, and establish its owner, Sir Allan Napier MacNab as a man of importance, influence and ancestry.

Naturally, I fell in love with it all and took as many pictures as our tour guide would allow without me lagging too far behind the group (unfortunately I was NOT allowed to explore the house by myself *insert frowny face*) I've paired it down to a chosen few favorites. So, without further preamble, here is the upstairs portion of Dundurn Castle:

Front entranceway with colonnade.
Rear of the mansion.
Sir Allan MacNab's study and library.
 I will forever think of this when I imagine a laird's study when reading Scottish historicals. Fantastic tartan curtains from the clan MacNab, the ancestral seat of which was Dundurn on Loch Earn, Perthshire, Scotland. Unfortunately, I could not get close enough to see what selection of texts MacNab had on his bookshelves (darn tour guides and their rules), but I imagine that as he had a lengthy career in parliament, he would have been very learned.
Aunt Sophia's bedroom.
I hope the gorgeousness of this bedroom and it's furnishings (the drapery over the bed is beyond beautiful) were a comfort to Sophia as she certainly deserved some peace. At the ripe old age of 24, within a span of a few short weeks she lost her young son Napier, her husband David (Sir Allan MacNab's younger brother) and her infant son, David (named after his father). Deep in her grief, she came to live at Dundurn Castle in her own suite of rooms, to be with her sister, Lady Mary MacNab, wife of Sir Allan. (yes, that's right, the brothers married sisters, so it's a bit confusing) Aunt Sophia took over running the household after Lady Mary became ill and died of tuberculosis, caring for Sir Allan's children in the absence of their mother.
Children's work table in their nursery suite.
 Ladies were taught at home with a governess or tutor whereas boys were
sent away to school. Suitable subjects were music, art and
embroidery, all of which I would have failed at, except perhaps
for art :)
Birdcage on the children's windowsill.

Dining room fit for a king with silver candelabra and a magnificent crystal chandelier,
originally lit by candles, but now electric.

The Drawing Room.
After dinner entertaining happened here before the gentlemen might retire to discuss business and
smoke in MacNab's study. Anyone for a game of whist? How about charades or a song?
Simply gorgeous!

This unfortunate photograph was the best I could do without being allowed to use my flash *insert another frowny face*
and there being no lights in this closet-style room. Can you guess what the wooden box
with the lid is? That's right, it's a toilet. But not just any pit and board. It's a flushing toilet with a cistern. The height of
luxury during Victorian times for the low, low cost of...$250.00. To put that into perspective
$250.00 Canadian dollars in 1835 could buy a whole house (not this house of course, but a regular one.)

One of three pianos we passed during the tour. Music was more than
an accomplishment during Victorian times, it was a way of life.

Grand spiraling staircase leading down to the main entryway. Unlike many of the
rooms in the house with large windows to let in light, I found the entryway
quite gloomy with the heavy double doors closed, and therefore difficult to photograph.

Sir MacNab's bed.
His room and it's off suite dressing chamber are the biggest in the house. That bed is really
something, isn't it? Fit for a king.

Sir MacNab's dressing room with a cupboard for his washstand. His butler
served as valet and would lay out his clothes each day, ensuring they were in good

Lady Mary enjoyed charity work, which unfortunately led to her catching Tuberculosis, an
incurable illness in Victorian times. Medicines, like those above, were mostly tinctures and
powders used for keeping the patient comfortable while nature took it's course, and sometimes they did more harm than good. For more on 19th century remedies, please click here.


View of the rear grounds from the Drawing Room looking out onto
Burlington Bay (the blue bits in the distance). The shore of Lake Ontario is craggy here
and it is said the view inspired MacNab to buy the land, reminding him
somewhat of Scotland. True or not, he certainly built a beautiful home for himself and his
family, and a lasting legacy enjoyed by hundreds of visitors, almost 200 years later.
Next up: Dundurn Castle from downstairs, a different view of Victorian life in Canada.
Thanks for stopping by!

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Where's Kate?

Being that I'm on vacation for two weeks I'm busy writing. Yes, really I am. (Ye of little faith. Sheesh!)
But, I'm also taking lots of pictures of my various travels. So you know what that means. That's right, I'm blogging at my other site and posting highlights. First series up: Summer Carnival.

So why not take a wee click break and visit Remember Me Photo Artistry and remember what summertime fun is all about while I nip off and get some more words down. Got a battle between tin soldiers to finish up. Exciting stuff!


Thursday, July 11, 2013

Juggling Balls

It was a dark and stormy night. No, seriously. It was. Monday evening's downpour resulted in not just flooding, but the power went out for several hours, and for some, days. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you can look at these pictures and read all about it here:
 Toronto Battered by Storm Flooding Thousands Stranded

Union Station under water

Damaged roadway from the flood

When trapped on a highway in a flood, what do you do?
Commuter train caught in the flood.
It took 7 hours to rescue the 1000 or so passengers.

Crazy, intense day, right?

But life is nothing without struggle and even though June has been a month of months when it comes to being out of balance in my tiny portion of the universe and July has shaped up to be little different—that storm being the icing on the cake (I hope)—I have somehow managed to not drop the ball. Not completely, anyway. I’ll call it juggling super slow instead  :)

It’s true, writing and creative endeavours have, out of unfortunate necessity, been the lowest peg on my pole of priorities as of late.  But even when I became so exhausted from keeping-things-running at my day job as to vomit one sunny afternoon, I have not quit thinking about my story and the plight of my characters. It is also true that thinking about writing and actually writing are not the same thing, but thinking about what you want to write about at least keeps the story in your mind and percolating like delicious coffee, ready to be sipped when you get the stray moment to put your feet up and jot down a word or two. And I have jotted down a word or two. Not that they make much sense at this point, but jotting is better than not jotting when it comes to words and writing. Making sense can come later when I have more time. And *excited grin* I printed off the first 90 pages of Tin Heart and gave it a read through, thinking that if I could not write, because I didn’t have the brain-space available, I could still read and edit. I have to say it’s so nice to actually see the book as a thick wad of paper, and to flip through it chapter after chapter. Makes me smile and say, “Great…now we just need the rest. GET IT DONE!”

So, with that in mind, I’m off to let my fingers do the talking and GET IT DONE. You never know when another storm will hit.

Thanks for stopping by!


Monday, May 20, 2013

Queen Victoria's birthday? Let's party!

Queen Victoria's actual birthday isn't until May 24th but here in Canada we celebrate it on the nearest Monday before May 25th, so even though it's a couple of day's early this year, let's raise a glass of (insert adult beverage of choice) and salute the old girl's legacy.

Celebrating Victoria Day began in 1854 when legislation was passed to officially recognize May 24th as Queen Victoria's birthday and about 5,000 citizens of the province Canada West (this is pre-confederation, folks)  gathered together in the newly renamed city of Toronto to have a party, wave some flags and pass the beer. This tradition has continued for the past century and a half, resulting in the tongue-in-cheek nickname for the holiday as the May 2-4 weekend, 24 being the number of bottles in a large case of beer. Yes, Canadians never pass up a good excuse for a party.

But I also think a lot of colonization happened in Canada during Queen Victoria's reign, which has left a lasting impression upon the foundation of the country (some good and some very bad but I'm not going to go there). The history of many towns in Ontario, for instance, can trace their beginnings to the eighteen hundreds, the gravestones of early settlers marked in the eighteen hundreds, the architecture of the historically preserved buildings decidedly eighteen-hundreds influenced. And what century did Queen Victoria's 63 year reign occur in? That's right, the eighteen hundreds, the Victorian Era; a time of great change for Canada and the world as a whole with advancements in science giving birth to electricity, the development of wireless communication, and air travel. Things which have given rise to our modern world and without which I would not be blogging right now.

So, join me if you will, in raising a glass in honour of dearly departed Queen Victoria. She might not have smiled often in photographs, but to know she's still celebrated after all this time, well...I'm sure she would be very amused, indeed.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Very Inspiring Blogger Award!

I can't imagine inspiring anyone right now with my head stuffed up with a cold and my tonsils like marbles, but here it is, just the same, a very lovely honour from Ms. Shehanne Moore in the form of A Very Inspiring Blogger Award.

Shehanne, apparently, had something of a fight on her hands with giving me this award on account of her Lady Fury being annoyed with my Lady Anne, concerning their shared taste for unconventional men and Flint being a pirate. But Shehanne snuck the link through under Fury's nose (probably while Fury was occupied inspecting the contents of Flint's trousers) and gave me the award anyway. So thank you, Shehanne, for your bravery in facing Fury's ire, I appreciate your kindness.

More about Lady Fury can be found here:
And about Shehanne, here:
And the link to her debut novel, The Unraveling of Lady Fury, can be found here:
I was inspired to pick it up, and upon reading it, inspired to contact Shehanne and tell her how wonderful and refreshing the story is. So, there you go. Books are inspiring, even for creating friendships.

According to the terms of this award, I must now reveal seven things about myself so I'll tell you what I find inspiring:

1. I have two cats: Jiggeratta the Wicked and Fluffernutter. They are old, cuddly and purry and inspire me to want to stay in bed and write.

2. Downton Abbey and Game of Thrones aside, I could live without TV. I prefer movies, good books, and writing as entertainment. There is nothing more inspiring to a writer than enjoying someone else's fantastic work.

3.The sound of a gentle rainfall inspires me to smile, as long as it's not falling on my head. Then I kind of scowl a bit and mutter.

4.I think that finding the courage to get out of bed and face the world everyday is very inspiring, especially for people who can't. A disabled person is so much more than just a chair with wheels, but sadly that is often all people choose to see. Think about it.

5.Taking the chance to tell someone you appreciate them, especially a stranger, is crazy scary isn't it? But I like to do it because the world is full of nay-sayers and life, let's face it, it's just too short.

6.Warm beach sand, vodka, and room service...yeah, very inspiring. But so is walking in the woods, taking pictures of birds and flowers and the things I love.

7.Friendship. Kindness. Love. Children's giggles. Old people holding hands....Enough said.

But the best part of any award, I think, is in sharing it with other people. So with great delight, I have chosen bloggers (in no particular order) who have inspired me in some way. Each of them are wonderful, talented, creative people who, without their words, the world would be a smaller place.

Luciana Cavallaro
and last, but definitely not least,

Now go forth and be inspiring...

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Finding Leo

Staff meeting at work recently which means two hours of listening to people banter opinions about stuff and some drawing time for me. I know. Shocking, isn't it? But I'm a multi-tasking kinda girl, I can listen, take notes and doodle at the same time. In fact, the scribbles and swirls help me remember what was said better than my chicken-scratch handwriting.

Captain Leonidas, as usual, lounged in the back of my mind, waiting to torment me yet again by my inability to draw him. He's a complicated character to say the least, an automaton with a human soul. But what does he look like? Well, that's the problem. He goes through a metamorphosis during the story, starting with a very mechanical body.

"He was such a magnificent marvel of steam-powered science; blackened steel and brass rivets and gruesome sharp edges that caught the light in razor clarity. Close up, his warrior’s body seemed very well formed indeed, with massive shoulders and the ridges of his Aegean-styled breast plating as muscular as she had seen in the anatomy books secreted from her uncle’s library. But the crested helmet molding his head cast his zirconium eyes into shadow, revealing only a glimmer of blue, and nothing of their intent. A bright scarring of tin ran from the corner of his left eye, across his cheek, to the corner of his mouth in an imprecise repair which twisted his lips into a cruel sneer. With the sharp cast of his features and the flutter of his cloak he looked not unlike a vicious bird of prey."

That's what Lady Anne described when she first met him. He's fairly imposing and so I imagined him to be a guy-in-a-metal-suit, very daunting to be around, but with this presence, that she can't help find fascinating, even if he is her mortal enemy.

So I was a little bit excited when out from my pencil popped this quick sketch of an Aegean-style warrior wearing a crested helmet. Could this be Captain Leonidas? He does have a bit of a presence about him. Maybe it's a start.

Scanning the picture when I got home, I attacked it with my drawing tablet and some quick colour.

Glowing blue eyes? Check.
Imposing presence? Check.
Fluttery cape, black armour; check and check.

But wait a minute, that sounds a lot like....this guy.
Well crap. Okay, what if we change the colour. How about blue, nice and bright to go with his eyes, and we'll make his face silvery and...

...And now Captain Leonidas is Optimus Prime. Yeah, he is more than meets the eye, but..bleah.

Thanks, Mr. Transformer. You aren't helping.

Damn and double damn. You'd think I'd know that though, with all the Transformers hanging around my place, infecting my subconscious with their Mecha designs. And you'd also think that with all the source material to work from, with the intense library we have of Manga books about giant robots, Star Wars tech books, and more model kits than there is room for (thanks to my husband's home business as a very talented model maker and graphic designer) that I'd find it easy to cobble together the design for a Steampunk-automaton-robot-guy-with-a-human-soul.

The problem is, when I picture Captain Leonidas and when I'm writing his character, I'm thinking more of his human soul than I am of his metal body, and I'm imagining what he looks like when he has his real body, when he's his true self again. So abandoning all pretense of trying to draw a mechanized version of Leo, I concentrated instead on how I saw him dressed up as a courtly prince.

"True, Cleone did appear handsome in the small photograph which had been placed on her nightstand. Unlike Swiverton, he was young, tall and golden haired, with a fashionably curled moustache and a strong chin. In military finery, he looked grand, the way he held his sheathed sword, noble, but his bland expression revealed little."
Oh, boy. More then meets the eye, indeed. She might not know it yet, but I'm thinking Lady Anne's pretty darn lucky to be marrying Leo, don't you?

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Writing Smexy Bits

I’m doing a lot of scowling these days.

After pages and pages and pages of building chemistry and sexual tension between my hero and heroine, they’ve come to the point in the story where they can no longer avoid each other’s charms and for some damned reason…I’m sitting at the computer, tap, tapping away each night, working on everything but the smexy bits.

Every time I try to bend my mind to the particulars of this first love scene between the characters…it shies away, squirming like a squeamish school girl faced with frog dissection in Biology class. Remember the rubbery texture of the frog and the smell of formaldehyde? Yeah, my mind does too, and for some reason it would rather think of that grossness then concentrate on this particular love scene. 

Not good, right?

I’ve written sexy scenes before. I’m no stranger to the language and the mechanics, but it seems with this particular scene, my mind needs to take some Viagra. 

Maybe it’s because the mechanics in themselves are really very simple; girl locks lips with boy and then their souls collide. See? Simple. Maybe too simple. Maybe I’ve not given myself enough to work with. There’s not a lot of physical touching at this point in the story, given the circumstances, so the usual hands sliding over skin and groping of body parts doesn’t really apply. The process of showing (remember, kids, show don’t tell) the desire is primarily internal, and that’s throwing me for a bit of a loop. I’ve got to find different words and different ways to describe the emotional interaction and eroticism and it’s taking time and lots of thought and reading to give my mind a refreshing break (though that last one might just be gratuitous procrastination J).

All good things come to those who wait, but… I’d really like this story to get finished sooner than in ten years’ time, so if anyone has advice on how I can jump this hurdle, break through this writing block, and dissect this metaphorical frog without puking, I’d greatly appreciate your wisdom.

Anyone, anyone?