Not literally of course, but I know just what she's talking about when it comes to having too much on your plate at one time. Especially in November. I used to work retail, and man am I glad that Nanowrimo didn't exist back then. I'd never have gotten anything done.

Even now, as a teacher, I'm going into my third year trying Nano and I'm floundering. It could also be that I'm running it with my students and keeping nearly 40 4th through 8th graders working on a book really eats up any time I might try to use to do my own writing. As you can tell by my recent lack of presence on the blog.

It could also be that my mind is all over the place right now. My fifth book, A Neighbor's Ultimatum, comes out in less than a week. It's the sequel to Meeting A Neighbor's Needs and getting it written, edited and polished has been a long process--the characters just didn't want to cooperate.

But now that it's off my plate, I can focus on the three projects I signed up to work on through Nanowrimo. (Can you say glutton for punishment?) With luck I'll get one completed manuscript finished before the end of November. Then I'll be moving into the holidays with the insanity taking place within the school as kids get excited about having two weeks off. The teacher's will be going a bit crazy as well, I admit, but I'll need every minute of those 14 days to get as much work done on books as possible.

Have to run off to the day job. Have a great one.

Qwillia

As most know, I have a tendency to bounce around from one genre to the next. I love the excitement of trying my hand at something new, especially when it comes to my writing. With the completion of my final edits on my BDSM novel, Nisey's Awakening, I've now found myself floundering as I contemplate my next project. Nisey has taken up so much of my time and creativity for the past several months, I almost feel lost now that its done.

After fulfilling a couple of short story obligations to my publisher for some up coming anthologies next year, I've cleaned my plate for the most part and now am sitting back and wondering where to go. That was until I got a call from my editor after she finished editing the final draft of my anthology contribution.

"Now, that we've got that done, will you please, please, finish Philip!"

I felt like lowering my head in shame. I knew exactly what she was talking about and I couldn't help but feel guilty. I'd started A King's Touch, the third installment of my Wizards of Venus series, over a year ago when I mistakenly tried to enter and compete in the Nanowrimo writing contest.

Word of advice here...trying to push out 50,000 words in the month of November while working a highly demanding retail position is pure suicide. It can't be done...or at least not by this author. I'm not dogging the contest itself at all. It's a wonderful idea and I wish all the writers who enter the best of luck but I buckled under the stress of working 60 hours a week and then trying to cram in another 30 hours a week writing, not to mention my three kids and husband. It just wasn't possible.

So Philip went on the back burner through the holidays and I got sidetracked after the first of the year with several books which I had to finish edits for to meet my deadlines. Then of course in February, Nisey and Caelan took up residence in my head. I tried like hell to work on both stories but it just didn't work. Nisey took over and I had to finish it.

Anyway, after getting off the phone with my editor, I went looking for my master file for Philip to only realize that it had been on the laptop I'd had crash in June. Talk about frustration. I had over 40,000 words written and they were gone. All I can say is thank god for understanding editors because mine is a gem. She'd saved all the files I'd sent her while working on it and did some digging and sent them back to me. So it was just a matter of cutting and pasting them back together.

Now I'm happy to say I'm working on Philip again and editing the previous stuff as I go. I've noticed a few things after letting it sit for so long. One is by having a fresh set of eyes, I can see the areas I need to tighten and sometimes even cut all together. Something I wouldn't have seen if I'd been working on it in a constant manner like I did with Nisey.

Secondly, and most unexpectedly was my feeling of homecoming. Just like going on a vacation and seeing new and wonderful things, don't we all love it when we finally come back home? Being in familiar surrounds and seeing your friends again can be just as pleasurable as the vacation itself.

I'm finding the same thing is true with writing. I loved exploring the intricate weaving of the BDSM genre but damn if it didn't feel even better to come back to where I started my writing journey. Erotic Science Fiction. Especially when I get to revisit old familiar friends and catch up with the new ones.

Recently, I read an article on the key ingredients for a long term relationship. Like many articles, books, and stories on the subject, this one too overflowed with the usual flowery phrases and pop psychology that is so prevalent in our world today. I'm not knocking the, “be honest, keep communicating, don't go to bed angry,” ideologies of modern self-help gurus. I just question how many of them have actually succeeded by following their own advise.

With the end of our care giving years, Sweetie and I have embarked on a wonderful quest. We are trying to rediscover not only who we are as individuals, but what are marriage means to both of us. After 26 years of work and sacrifice, I have come up with a few key observations that I have yet to see in the pop culture advise of would be do gooders. I will say up front, that what works for us, ain't for everyone. And I'm not so blinded by love to believe that long term relationships are for everyone. We are each our own person. So we have to decide for ourselves what is best for both our hearts, and our lives.

First up, the whole, “Don't go to bed angry” lie. This one stuck in my craw right from the beginning. It is impossible. There, I said it. People, especially married people, do not always agree. Sweetie and I have had some doozies when it comes to arguments. Our son learned at a very early age, don't get in the middle when mom and dad are going at it. Sometimes though, the fight rages on into the evening. We get tired, we get frustrated, and we need to rest. Going to bed, either alone or together, is the best way to cool off, and leave the issue for the next day. People that continue to fight, not taking time to rest, usually resent each other that much more. Exhaustion during an argument is like gasoline on fire.

Second, what the hell do these pop psychologist mean when they say, “communicate”? They never actually explain it, they just seem to expect you to know. Well, here's a clue, shut your mouth first. Communications is a two way street. You can't effectively work out issues with your partner, if you won't shut up and let them speak their mind. Nothing gets Sweeties goat faster than my constantly trying to finish her sentences for her. I've had to learn to let her tell me what she is thinking, in her own good time. This can be tough, as I'm a bottom line kind of guy, and she likes to explain every little detail, including an entire back story if possible. It takes work, but I'm getting the hang of it. I just need to remember that listening is 50% of communicating.

The whole honesty thing is good, to a point. Sorry to burst bubbles here, but there are times when honesty can be harmful to a relationship. I won't try to speak for everyone of course, but in our lives, there are secrets that we keep from each other, and we both accept that there are times when we lied to each other. Naturally, getting caught lying creates its own nest of issues. But accepting as fact that people lie, all people, makes dealing with the issues easier. The point I'm making is, deal with the reason for the lie, not the lie you hear.

That brings me to the Statue of Limitations. Too many relationships fail because one or more members in the relationship, hold grudges. You can't live in the past, and tomorrow never comes. You only have the hear and now. Do you really want to waste that time brooding over past sins? Sweetie and I have developed a rule, what happened in the past, stays in the past. Learn from it, sure. Recognize the experience you gain from it, of course. Dwell on it, never. And don't use it as a club during an argument. That is hitting below the belt, and shows you really don't have a leg to stand on in a dispute.

Lastly, don't take yourself to seriously. People are funny, a laugh riot a minute. We all make stupid mistakes, say things we don't mean, pose and posture for the attention of others. We're human beings, nothing more. Our relationship to others are not etched in stone, they evolve over time. We change, we adapt, we move on. Life may not be all fun and games, but there are more times in life when we could laugh at ourselves. Some of the funniest events in my life, happened when trying to impress the woman I love. So are some of the saddest. We all have to take the good with the bad, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves in the process. It's a game, this thing called life. Play it, enjoy it, but don't be too serious about it.

Granted, there is so much more to the building of a relationship than a weekly blog entry can really hold. Yes, it is work, hard work sometimes. But the rewards are immeasurable. As I approach the big 50, and 27 years of marriage, I look back at the things I have learned. There is much I would do differently, and even more that I would not change. Sweetie and I have built something that has stood against raging storms, and we take shelter in our home because we are proud of what we've built. We are still growing, still learning, but we plan on growing and learning together, for the rest of our days. The example we have provided to our son is already showing promise in his life. Someday, I hope to bounce grandchildren on my knee, from another home, built with the bricks and mortar of love.

Since losing my job in July, I've done nothing more than write my butt off. It seems with the free time I've had I've managed to write two full length novels, and several short pieces. While this makes me happy because currently I'll have three stand alone pieces coming out between December and February, I sometimes wonder if I'm ever going to get tired of writing. It's my passion and can be a harsh task master. If anyone had asked me this a couple of weeks ago, I'd have said never.

Unbelievably it did finally happen last week. I got up after the tenth or eleventh night in a row of dealing with sick kids and found that I had absolutely no desire to write anything. In fact, I probably wouldn't have even opened my laptop if it weren't for the fact that I had class and had to log on to the virtual campus.

At first it kinda freaked me out. I wasn't used to the characters not speaking in my head and demanding I write their stories. I just assumed my muse taken off for parts unknown and could be coaxed back by working on something different. It'd worked in the past. So I dug into my homework and attempted to work on my paper that was due several days later. I was hoping a change of pace and subject matter might jog my creative juices.

Nope, not in this lifetime. I wrote exactly three sentences which basically rephrased the purpose for my paper and got stuck. My brain was simply fried and the only thing I wanted to do was curl up in the recliner and blankly stare at the screen of the television. So around noon, I shut the laptop down and thought perhaps I simply needed rest. I took my Wall*E blanket and curled up on the couch only to be joined by my puppy. We took what I thought was a much needed nap. My hope at this point was that the extra sleep would rejuvenate me. I slept for three hours got up and felt worse than I had before I took a nap.

By this time I was about ready to call the doctor. I felt totally out of sorts and just blah. No achy joints, muscles or fever, so I knew I hadn't caught the nasty virus my kids had brought home from school. After talking to my dad, I'd realized I'd caught a case of the 'blahs' as he used to call them. The only thing I could do is work through it and hope tomorrow would be better.

I ended up spending three days in what I called my 'blah' funk. I wrote absolutely nothing other than what I had to for class and basically recharged my batteries. Finally by Saturday after eight hours of solid sleep (this is not common for me, I normally sleep five to six hours a night), I felt brand new. I woke up Saturday morning before my children, and by the time they tumbled out of bed all blurry eyed and asking for breakfast, I was working on my third cup of Irish breakfast tea and the first thousand words of the three thousand I wrote that day.

One thing this whole thing has forced home, is that I am not superwoman, I have no big S on my chest and if I don't slow down, my body and brain is going to do it for me. Perhaps scheduling down time from writing is going to have to become part of my life. The protests I'm going to get from the voices in my head have to be better than the total silence I felt for those three days. I'll take them hollering at me any day of the week over that.

Ugggghhhh, it's that time of year again. Halloween is over. Even before the night of the little goblins, the stores and businesses started gearing up for the holiday season. If I hear one more time that “It's A Wonderful Life,” or peace on earth, I swear I'm gonna be sick. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the holidays, I just have a real problem with the commercialism, and false humility and piety that people portray once a year. People should be good year round, not just for the last two months of the year.

But there is one aspect of the holiday season I hope will never change, the sudden rise in the need to score. I don't know about the rest of you, but the holiday season brings out the horny little devil in me. Seems to do the same for Sweetie too. I don't know if it's the eating, or the baking, the change in seasons, or if it's just the fact that another year is coming to a close. All I do know is, the libido is on overtime, and we both try to find ways to make our romantic moments very special during the holidays.

It hasn't always been easy though. Sweetie is a hopeless romantic, and I really can't blame her. She has at times caused herself too much stress with her holiday love making plans. The most stressful however, were doing my years in the service. There were times when we could not be together for the holidays, although we would have our time shortly after. But one year in particular, it seemed as if the world conspired to keep me from my family.

That year, our plans had gone awry, and we almost didn't get to spend a hot Christmas together. I'd gone to my 'A' school in California, leaving my family in Maine. What should have been 9 weeks of school, turned into 6 months of separation from my family. That's the military for ya, changes it's mind like the wind, and you have to keep up. Long story short here, Sweetie brought the boy and herself down to Washington DC for Thanksgiving. The plan called for me to travel up to Maine for Christmas. Then the bus ticket got lost in the mail. A FedEx envelope with my bus ticket home, never arrived at my hotel. I don't think I ever heard my wife cry so hard.

Happily, the missing envelope was found, and only a couple of days late, I left for Maine. My wife had not seen me in my full dress uniform since before I'd left for school, so I wore it on the ride north, hoping she would like the changes she would see. When I knocked on the door to our home, I saw her bound down the stairs to greet me. She wore a sexy, long black nightgown, and I never got the chance to say anything. She grabbed me, kissed me, dragged me up the stairs and into our living room. The boy had already gone to bed, and there before the twinkling lights of the Christmas Tree, she said those fatal words.

“Looks nice, take it off, NOW!”

I don't remember a whole lot of what happened after that. I know that somehow, I ended up with a wild woman in my arms, that wouldn't let me up from the floor. My neat and tidy uniform, laid in a heap on the sofa. Her sexy black nightgown, hung from a couple of branches on the tree. We rolled with each other on the floor for hours, almost knocking over the tree as we explored each others bodies. We'd not been able to really enjoy each other during Thanksgiving, the boy had gotten sick and also shared my room. It's kind of hard to go all wild and primal when there's a three year old in the next bed. That night however, under the Christmas Tree, we let the animal out, and we had fun.

This time of year, people try to sanitize and moralize the holiday season. The false kindness and sudden charity serve a purpose, I guess. It's to bad most people do not know the traditional roots of some of our holidays. They pre-date the stories you've gown up with, and are steeped in ancient memories from many lands and cultures.

What we call Christmas, is far older than the story you grew up with, and is based partly in fertility rituals that people celebrated on the shortest day of the year. The winer solstice happens around December 21st each year. This is the day when the sun shines the least in the sky in the Northern Hemisphere. Ancient peoples would celebrate this day with rather erotic rituals centered around the act of the sun god, impregnating mother earth, to bring new life. The wild orgies and parties held on this night, would “wake up the sun”, so that life would continue, and the earth would start to warm again.

Let's return to our ancestors ways. They had a pretty good idea. The days are shorter, the nights longer. A longer night can mean a pretty hot time. So have a Horny Holiday everyone, with one or more people you know that are willing to help, “wake up the sun”.

Now where did I put that copy of “Scrooged”? I need a good laugh.

Remember the episode of Sex and the City when Samantha blows a guy and reports to her pals that he was the unfortunate victim of Funky Spunk?
I had a similar encounter many years ago and it's difficult to tell a guy you don't want to go down there because his sperm tastes like shit.
However nasty taste may be, I can't imagine how awful it would be to actually be allergic to my partner's sperm. I read a report this morning about Pennsylvania newlywed, Julie Boyde, who has been diagnosed to such an allergy.
Surprisingly it is more common than people realize. In fact, according to a new report I just read, many women think they are allergic to other things when sperm is the actual culprit. Up to 40,000 women in the US suffer from sperm allergies. The symptoms are gross - similar to peanut or bee sting allergies - and treatments offered up to now are not pleasant.
Condom use seems to be the only solution...but...
A few years ago, I read the book Le Divorce and author Diane Johnson has a scene where the American heroine is persuaded to drink orange tisane (tea) by her French lover because it will make her pussy taste good.
I asked several friends about this and I guess the Europeans have it way ahead of us because apparently French women have been doing this for years.
I noticed several recipes on the web and was intrigued to learn it takes A LOT of orange tisane to make the pussy taste and smell like oranges but men love it. so ladies, DRINK UP!
My French friends tell me that their men also know about eating copious amounts of celery to keep their spunk alkaline and tasty...but also....non-allergy causing. Men can also drink this tisane and brewed with rosemary it has healing benefits that will make their women happy.
I am sure a bunch of doctors here will start prescribing pills and therapy and God knows what else, but according to my research, it all starts with diet.
So if you love your spouse, try natural remedies. Do you some research and check with a naturopath before resorting to abstinence.
How about you? Ever had a load of spunky funk? Tell Uncle A.J....I want to know!
Aloha oe,

A.J.