I got up this morning and wrote three ‘dreich noir’ sex scenes.
Weird headspace. One foot still in dreamland and I’m tapping out cocks going into cunts, front-bottom grazing and so on.
I’d written all the ‘how’ they found themselves in bed, this morning’s pass was ‘what’ they did next.
Like Jimmy Page adding all the guitar solos to ‘Presence’ once everything else was finished, I’m hammering these out after the fact.
The thing is, I can (and do!) Write the build-ups to these scenes on public transport, in cafés and so on.
But to write the big fuck-fuck, I need to be away from potentially prying eyes.
I think I’m probably just just too inhibited to sit tapping out filth in a public place.
There’s also the ‘content’ question. As regular readers of this blog are no doubt aware, my own romantic preferences are radically different to what goes on in ‘dreich noir’. Although a couple of people (who’re certainly old enough to know better!) have told me that certain entries have made their sponges moist, it don’t float my wee boat.
It’s also all made up. Very few of the characters – or any of the sex – are based on anyone I’ve ever met.
Carpet girl is based on the carpet at the forth valley sensory centre at Camelon, in Falkirk, for instance.