Yesterday, in my search for that bone-chilling Stephen King book to read this month, I stumbled upon an interview he did that was posted on YouTube. Needless to say I was intrigued with his writing process, and relished the fact that I do a lot of things similar to him.
There are things he says which makes sense but at the same time, I see the flip sides of those coins. He’s a free-writer as far as I understand, he doesn’t keep note books or jottings or anything like that; he just writes. While I consider myself a free-writer too, I need to pen my idea before I loose it, not that I do outlines and whatnot, I just need to physically write down an idea if I want it to stick with me. For him, he keeps his ideas in his head like a big strainer he pours ideas into; the pointless and stupid ideas are sifted out or dissolve into nothingness leaving behind the really good ones, and I can appreciate that philosophy. For me, I write down the ideas, those I’ve had from years back, but when I read over them, if they don’t grab me I ignore them, but the really good ones jump out at me and gnaw at me until I chose to do something with them.
I listened to his interview and was awe-inspired . . . is that the right term? I am genuinely in awe of this man. The thing is, I generally don’t idolize people, making them into role models, whether they consider themselves one or not. It’s actually worse for me if you do consider yourself a role model. I don’t know, I just think that’s the height of conceitedness. Forgive me! But for me, all humans are flawed, and I know I’m prone to lose a little respect whenever I see that flaw. That, is a flaw of mine.
There was this woman, who I’d admire at one point, because she was the embodiment of feminine power and mastery, and she promoted living a purposeful and passion-driven life. I used to take her classes and hang onto every word that poured out of her because she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. That was until I realized she really didn’t have her sh*t together. Every session I took with her was marred by some technical difficulty half way through the course. Seriously?! You’re going to tell me how to get my life together and you cant get your technological stuff together? Don’t get me wrong, I know things will go wrong eventually . . . I just don’t expect it every time we have class. But that was the case.
So here I am, a little trepidacious in admiring this man, especially since I haven’t read his work yet, but in all honesty, I am amazed at the volume of work he’s produced, and with his writing style. Like I’ve said before, I wish and hope to produce just half that amount. I kinda wish to be the Stephen King of Jamaica, popping out books after books, filled with horror, suspense, intrigue, romance, a little erotica, murder mystery, and even some supernatural science fiction . . . stuff!
Before, I would have told you I was content with publishing just one book, that’s all I need, to know that one book is mine. Now . . . see previous paragraph. And it’s thrilling to me to be this passionate about something, to feel this strongly about where I want to go, and to know that it really is possible. I’ve never had direction like this before, never wanted to do something so definitive with my life before.
Sorry, I went off on a major tangent just now.
As I was saying, I stumbled across Stephen King’s interview on YouTube and found some other audio books as well. One I found particularly interesting was Pleasure Unbound by Larissa Ione. It’s the first book in her demonica series where a young woman, a demon slayer is taken into a demon hospital for healing and she and the head doctor, an incubus, become entangled in each other as she discovers a truth about herself and he seeks a mate for a ritual he must undergo.
As someone who wants to write erotica as well, and have dabbled in it by writing a short story here and there, I found it interesting. My short stories are nothing compared to her story (of course), but it’s opened my eyes to the endless possibilities with this genre. Here she shows me that a good erotic novel can have action and killings, blood and gore, and a spider web of mystery. It was vaguely reminiscent of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy, the male love interests are similar; one being a BDSM fiend, the other being an incubus demon.
But at the end of the day, I gobbled it up, listened to it straight, all 12 hours of it. That’s the effect I want to have on my readers. I don’t just want to interest you/them. I want you to become so involved with my stories that they leave marks on you, you can’t help but gobble them up yourselves, and you almost want to cry at the emptiness you feel when you read that last page. That’s what I want.
Is that bad?