News

I’ve finally realized that it’s not Merry that’s having the problem; it’s me. I don’t think it would matter if it was an Anita book, it’s just everything seems to be conspiring to make this novel a real chore. For example, today was a sex scene, or supposed to be, but it didn’t get done. Why?

I blame the dog. Sasquatch, our pug, as most of you know lost a fight with our boxer mix, Pippin. He has a new home with a nice foster family, but Sasquatch is the worse for wear. He lost an eye and had several facial piercing’s that had nothing to do with jewelry and everything to do with fangs. That happened only a little over two weeks ago. Sasquatch got the sutures out only last Sunday. Unfortunately, he got a second infection in his "eye" and we’re back to having to express stuff from it. The stuff has the consistency of Campbell’s Tomato soup which I may never be able to eat again. Even strawberry yogurt is not looking too good right now. But it’s not like Sas is enjoying himself either. So today while I tried to write a sex scene I had to periodically express goop from Sas’ eye, or clean off goop from his eye. Then he decided to poo in my nice, big leather chair. Admittedly, it wasn’t much and he let me know that he really, really, really had to go outside so he could finish, but still . . . None of this helped me stay in the mood for a sex scene. In fact, I would say that Sasquatch single-pawedly killed any desire I had to do the scene.

I tried, God knows I tried, but in the end I just couldn’t stay in the mood. Sex scenes are like real sex in that you need to be in the right frame of mind, but unlike real sex there’s no other person to help remind you why you want to do it. There’s just paper and words and the computer. On day’s like this that just isn’t enough. And, please do not suggest that Jon could help get me in the mood. He can certainly distract me and make me think of sex with him, to the point where we have sex, but sex with Jon though great doesn’t get the scene written either. And honestly, with Sasquatch wandering about needing medical care it was sort of a mood killer all the way around. Soon he will go in his crate and we will go up stairs and maybe I will feel a little better, but that will be with the help of a real live husband. My fictional men, though amazing, could not compete with my injured puppy. He won. I lost. The book ground to a halt.

If he’s still that pitiful tomorrow then I’m skipping the sex scene and doing the next scene which is about violence. Violence I can do with the pitiful puppy.