I love my philosophical posts, the ones where I’m all thoughtful and analytical. The truth is, most of the time I’m trying to talk myself into being calm and philosophical. I’m trying to make myself believe or accept reality.
Like deadlines. Those are a reality and what those mean are–I have to write. You see, I like doing things when I don’t have to do them. I like writing when I’m not supposed to write. Travel before I have to leave for the airport. Book signings oh, about 6 months out. I don’t know if its laziness (I’m sure it is) or just rebelliousness (well, plenty of that, too) but I don’t like having to step up to the plate and perform. It’s….scary.
Like now. I have to finish my manuscript for Harlequin. There is no more ifs, ands, or buts. No more extensions, delays, excuses. Its just deliver. I’ve got 2 days, I’ll deliver. Which means I start off my morning editing chapter 8 and finally writing the love scenes I always put off to the last moment. I do put off the love scenes. I’m sorry. I still like writing, I like my Harlequins, but a lot of times I sit down at my computer at 6 am with bad hair, morning breath and sleep-stuck eyes and you think I’m hungry to write hot sex at 6??? Mmmm, no. I can’t even imagine hot sex at 6 in real life much less at my computer keyboard. No, I’ve got to write the love stuff when I’m in the *mood*. Unfortunately, I spend a lot of time at my computer telling my characters, ‘um, not tonight, dear. I’ve got a headache.’
So how does one get in the mood to write the steamy stuff? Oh a million authors will have a million different (better) answers, but this is what I do when I really am not excited about computer sex. First: light some candles, clich�, but flickering candlelight, even from one vanilla taper, works. Next, dim the lights. I know, hokey hokey, but you’ve got to really work at good romance love scenes–they don’t just happen. And then its music. You’re liking it now, aren’t you? Then just for sparkle, plug in some leftover orange Halloween lights.
With ambiance set, I dab some perfume on my pulse points, pour a little Grand Marnier in a snifter, breathe in the fragrant orange liqueur and think sexy seductive thoughts. In my pajamas. Because after all it’s only 8 o’clock. In the morning. On a Wednesday.
Now excuse me while I locate my bottle of Obsession and those twinkly Halloween lights because honey, we’re getting busy.
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