Since I started writing, I’ve been a method writer. I do all my own stunts.
Think Brando in ‘On the waterfront’, taking that pasting at the end for real. or giving Maria Schneider the butter upshove in ‘Last tango in Paris’. again, for real.
There should still be copies of my book of short stories, ‘Erotic cleansing’ bouncing around the somewhere on the masturbation superhighway.
See all the stunts in there? All done for real.
There’s nothing in that book that I haven’t done. Apart from the ‘guts slashed open, pregnant alien laying her payload of eggs in my cavity’ thing.
But I did get involved with a Domme around that time who was really into cutting. So, by the time that book had been rejected by right-thinking publishers the length and breadth of the land, I had experienced being carved up whilst in a state of romantic arousal.
It’s a lot of years later and by now, I’ve done everything on the hard limits appendix of Christian Gray’s slave contract – apart from the ‘showbusiness’ ones. I will not work with children, animals or lawyers.
Up at 04:30 this morning and another seventeen hundred words into ‘dystopian’. after yesterday’s beginning, I’m really fascinated by how my mfc and mmc interact with each other. Watching their communication closely.
I had a few moments this morning where I experienced that sense of watching an in-skull movie and transcribing it into my keyboard. I remember experiencing that whilst writing ‘Erotic cleansing’, watching the tortures and murderings unfold behind my eyes and typing like a demon, trying to keep up.