If I Knew Then What I Know Now . . .

. . . it probably wouldn't have been as much fun!

I realized yesterday that it's been two years since I started writing my book.  That's a long time when I think how some authors put out at least a book a year, sometimes more.  Of course, those are established authors.  I'm a newbie and it takes us longer.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Well, maybe not such a newbie.  I've been writing my whole life.  I wrote some great fiction when I was in high school.  A good friend reminded me of that today.  Senior year, typing class.  I was a good typist.  I probably could've been a great typist.  I always finished my assignments quickly and accurately.  Then I used the remaining class period to type, uh, hmmm.  Sheesh, I don't know what to call it.  Scenes, I guess.  Just quickly dashed off descriptions of what my fruitful, 17-year-old, hormone-driven mind brought forth.

I shared desk space with two other girls.  One of my bff's and a Junior girl, who both shall, for now, remain nameless.  Seating was arranged so that we were at right angles to each other in our groups.  I had another bff in the class, but she got stuck at another group.  Oh, what she missed out on!

⇦ An IBM Selectric Typewriter--I think this is what I learned to type on.  Something like it anyway.

Although I was only marginally experienced in physical intimacy, that didn't stop my extremely active imagination from conjuring up scenes that'd make a 'ho blush.  I cannot believe that our instructor had no clue what was going on in our little group.  The laughter that was barely stifled, the reddened faces and, sometimes, the tears of hilarity streaming down our cheeks, were often disruptive to students at other groupings.  That poor Junior didn't know what to make of me and my bff.  We shared with her, of course, but sometimes she pretended to ignore us.  Looking back, I think Mr. B__ got ahold of some of those descriptions and was either: A. too embarrassed to tell us to stop, or B. too turned on (yecch!) to tell us to stop.

My bff kept some of those papers, but lost track of them somewhere along the way.  That's probably a good thing.  But part of me would like to read them again.  Not for their porn value, (well, mostly not) but because they made people feel something.  No, not like that!  Get your mind out of the gutter!  I mean the humor and embarrassment and curiosity.  Even shock.  (I seemed like such a sweet girl--still waters and all that!)

So I want to find that young girl inside me again.  I want to incorporate her style into my writing--within reason.  I'm not out to sell erotica here.  And I already did a posting on not describing any hanky-panky in my book.  I couldn't do justice to it anyway.  It's been an awfully long time . . .  Whoops, digression and TMI!

Maybe if I posted sections of my book as I go along, it would keep it moving.  Especially if I thought you were looking forward to it.  No need to disabuse me of that thought.  Let me have my dreams.  Remember that old Everly Brothers song?  ♫ Only trouble is, gee whiz, I'm dreamin' my life away.♪