Oh No...now the sex scene!

     I am very proud of myself!  I have now written 24,000 words in the first book of my Park trilogy.  Seven chapters.   129,000 characters. 1,700 sentences.  800..... Well you get the gist of it. You will also recognise the fact that, once again I am procrastinating.

     Definitely procrastinating.

     I am now at a point, in the book, where 'the sex scene' has to be introduced.  

     Don't get me wrong, like many others I like to read a good 'thrusting' scene.  If handled the right way (and I am still talking about the written prose here people...minds out of the gutters please!) it can develop into a very ..... Interesting, inciteful, 'phew, did someone turn the heat up', 'wish it was me' and 'they really don't make men like that', kind of a scene!  And instead of detracting from the storyline, it can just fuel more of your imagination.

    I cannot say I like the biological written sex scene, which really is the graphic one, or the one that changes all our sexual organs into pulsating, throbbing or engorged members.....how painful  Nor does 'lady lips', pooling or dripping and laving make me want to read any further. What are these women? Walking washing machines?   As to finger poking....puleez, no thank you.  

     No, writing about a good fumble, hot passionate kisses, an understanding that clothes are beingtaken off, more sultry kisses, falling into bed, onto the sand, among the trees, wherever, leaving out all the mechanics.  Add in a few thrusts, a wee bit screaming and then allow me to use my own imagination to conjure up the heat, the chemisrty and the act and I am a very happy bunny.

   Your own imagination is far more powerful than any explicit piece of written work.  Think of the emails, texts, facebook remarks you've misconstrued and have sent you looking for a frying pan, to knock someone's lights in.  Or the tears you've shed from that same source, when you've read a few words, you  have perceived as kindness, flattery or even love.

     The pen is definitely mightier than the sword, more so now than ever before, as we unfortunately hear of another young person taking their own life because of words she or he has read about herself/himself.

     Again, here I am digressing and procrastinating!

     What is the cause of this reluctance in writing the sex scene?  Well, that's simple, my three, main female characters are based on my lovely nieces.  These same nieces I have watched grow up into the beautiful young women they now have become.

     I changed their nappies (admittedly not often) I kissed their tiny heads when they were covered in baby fluff.  Two of my nieces live a distance fom me, so I received the school photos year by year.  I watched as their teeth fell out, started school, went to 'big' school.  To now write about them having sex....well, it's just not right!  And I know it's not THEM but fictitious THEM but still....
 
  So I will once again rely on my imagination and will not write the explicit, the unnecessary or the weird sex organ scene.
 
    Nope, instead...... they'll be 'doing it' in the clouds with angels!   Now that I can cope with.  

   

Lisanne's Books & Thoughts: Ross send me back 500 years...Technology UGH!!

Lisanne's Books & Thoughts: Ross send me back 500 years...Technology UGH!!:      My nephew, Ross, posted  today on Facebook asking the question, "if you went back 500 years what knowledge or technology could you prov...

Ross send me back 500 years...Technology UGH!!

     My nephew, Ross, posted  today on Facebook asking the question, "if you went back 500 years what knowledge or technology could you provide"?

     Bless his heart, Ross thinking of the best mankind might be able to contribute, what a guy.  Me...now if I went back 500 years I'd find the sperm donor that was he who started the chain of events that would lead to the birth of computing!

     Sounds a bit daft, I know when I am using a computer to actually do the blog that I wish hadn't been invented!  But after a week of DNS, USB, URL, PDQ, LBW, UPURS, I can say I truly despise computer technology, and all their horrible acronyms.   Why can't you just tell me the cable thingy with the double heads, plug them in and make sure the switch is down.  It's not that hard, but boy do you lot enjoy making it sound complicated.


     When one is told -
"The domain and the package typed and numbers are displayed select the option to begin transfer if there are no included domains left for the receiving package there will be a charge associated with the transfer please reference "What is an included domain" for more information. The charge is the same as the domain registration fee please reference the "website for domains" for the fee associated with this type of domain name then click ok to transfer but the transfer will not take place for another 24 hours please check the "website for domains" for reassurance of transfer then check "the website has changed the domain"

     WHAT?????

     Please give me something that simply says "PRESS THE BUTTON MAX!!"

      But the WORST of all has to be the magical "link".  That nasty little git in the corner, that if you don't "link" the right way, your amazing website, which has taken five trillion hours of time to build up and it still only has your name, (of course with private address) your photo and a couple of pages you have managed to understand can be added.....but the "link" doesn't direct anyone to your website, NO, NO NO! Because you forgot to input a + or a { or a # or even a < so anyone wanting to see your abysmal attempts are redirected to.....Kazakhstan!  I tell you that advert with those wee ferrets isn't far out.

     So, Ross, send me back 500 years and I'll write you a letter. 

Old??.....Who, Me?.....NAH!

I have, of late, questioned the idea that....now don't be shocked....but, perhaps, and it is just a possibility remember, but there's a chance I might be getting older.

Oh it's not the occasional ache and pain that settles into the knees or hips, that makes me hop instead of walk and has me sounding like an owl.. "ooh, ooh, ooh"...nope.  
It's not even the grunting I do every time I bend down to pick something up!  
The need to have a sleep  in the middle of the day?...No. 
Wanting tea instead of a gin and tonic?....No.
The "oops, it slipped out!" noises, that make you shrug your shoulders and grin embarrassedly? ...No.
Remembering songs from the sixties/seventies even eighties?...No.
The boys having to programme new digital watches etc? ....No!
What about sex, ...what about it?
Looking at Led Zepplin/The Rolling Stones and thinking they're ancient when, as a kid you told your parents they were so old fashioned and that Mick Jagger was just "groovy"......(yes we said that not....... "awesome)
And there are hosts of other reasons that, at present, my memory won't allow me to access .....not to worry because at two in the morning, I will suddenly wake up, my 'eureka' moment, and the other reasons will flood back!  Then, I can thank the Gods of "who needs to sleep" as I am left to ponder, for the next five hours, as I sit wide awake listening to the slumbering noises of the house.

No, the reason I think I must be getting older, is meeting an old woman and helping  carry her shopping only to be asked, "are you Lisanne......you were in the year above me at school!"

Oh my, I know I'm getting older.

Apparently he's not 'special' any more...PC police gone mad

Should some of you not know this, I have an autistic son, who has severe learning difficulties, psychotic outbreak syndrome and suffers from four variants of epilepsy.  Doesn't sound too much fun, does it?  I suppose to you, or I, the 'normal' ones, it sounds horrendous, but to my Michael it's all just a way of life.

My support system has always been my family, my husband, sons, brothers and my friends.  Of late I have to add some of the lovely people I have 'met' on Twitter. Sometimes just a simple phrase, a word, when life is extremely difficult can be a life line.  I do not use that phrase lightly, it is a sincere statement.

We are lucky, in that Michael's psychotic outbreaks have reduced, but every now and again, a three hour screaming in my face will happen.  When I, later, work back to the 'trigger' that has caused an episode, it all makes sense.  At the time, of being screamed at, sense is not a priority. Survival is.

Despite this and all the worries that go hand in hand with having an adult autistic man, he is "my Michael".  We have experienced the worst a family could endure but, in life, there is a ying and yang.  I have sometimes wondered  if there is a God and I completely respect those who say there isn't and add that this is no pious sermon, but there have been moments, with Michael, that have been, miraculous and have given us a glimpse into the place where he lives.  His smile.  A cuddle.  His first words at age seven.  Trying hard to control his temper. Looking at the moon.  Wanting to be Peter Pan. 

He is special.   

He is disabled.

He is special, to try and take those simple words away from the description of my wonderful son and all that he is, is political correctness gone mad.