… or bad.
Yesterday I was lying in bed with my wife (that’s her hands and legs up there by the way). We were tired and silly and just talking and laughing. I can’t remember anymore how we got there but I decided to tell her about the most sensual part of a novel. I like stories that make me bleed. Stories that make me cry and ache. I just like feeling a lot. I like sadness. I don’t like vanilla stories were everything just falls into place.
Whenever I think of aching moments in stories, I often think about Radclyffe’s “Passion’s Bright Fury”. I love this book (And not just because I have a little crush on Saxon Sinclair). There is one specific scene that always destroys me.
This is the excerpt of that part (the scene is that Sax (the doctor) and Jude (the director) are going upstairs to the roof of the hospital before Sax’s shift starts. They talk a bit, make out a bit, and then the following happens) :
Jude pressed her fingers to Sax’s lips. “Stop. Right. There.” She felt Sax’s smile curve under her fingertips. “Hold that thought…”
“The one that just made your eyes go purple,” Jude breathed.
“That would be the one where your mouth was on me and -”
“Enough,” Jude groaned. “I mean it, I’ll have a stroke.”
“That’s okay. I’m a doctor.”
“I want you,” Jude said very clearly, her gaze locked on Sax’s. “I want you so much I can’t think. But even if it’s quick, it won’t be enough. I won’t be able to stop if we start.”
“When?” Sax asked urgently. “This morning, this afternoon? Forget lunch, we’ll…”
I don’t know what it is but that last sentence, “Forget lunch, we’ll…” stuck to my brain like a bad pop song, I’ll never know why but the first time I read it, I got goosebumps and now as I read it all again, almost the same thing happened.
BUT when I was going to explain this scene to my wife last night it sounded like this:
Well, they are upstairs, on top of the hospital and they are playing basketball. Then the doctor says to the director: “Do you want to have lunch with me?” But the director can’t because she has to break up with her girlfriend. Then the doctor gets sad because she thinks the director is seeing other people. Then they start wanting each other and the doctor says she wants her and that they should skip lunch and just do it instead.
I don’t even know where I got the basketball from. Anyway, it didn’t impress the wife at all and she’s not about to read the book based on this description of my favorite scene.
Seriously though, go and read “Passion’s Bright Fury” by Radclyffe if you haven’t. It’s beautiful and sexy and heart wrenching in the best kind of way.
What this blog post was really going to be about was my inability to write when I’m alone. My wife has been back in Sweden for a week but she’s working long hours and going back to Cape Town on Sunday. This means I’ve been home alone most days since coming home from the boat.
At first I thought it would be great. I could finish the first draft of “A Tale of Spiders and Canned Soup”, I could start planning my next one while AToSaCS was with my beta readers. ….aaaaand then I hit a wall. I write maybe 200 -300 words at most. With people around it’s more around 1000-2000 (some crazy days 3000-4000).
I’m not good at writing in a quiet flat at all. It’s as if I need a distraction but TV is too distracting. As it turns out, I need human contact. Doesn’t even need to be in the same room. I can write well when my best friend Marco is home and chatting with me on Skype.
Anyone having the same problem?
Today I was going to have lunch with my parents and I purposely arrived literally in the morning so I can spend my day writing here instead of home. No wonder there is such a stereotype of authors hanging in cafes.
I think I’m going to go back to writing now and stop being distracted by the internet. I’m trying to figure out if getting an Instax mini would be worth it but writing is definitely more important (although if anyone reading has any experience with the Instax of any type or other polaroid cameras, please leave a comment on what you think?)