I Give Up

--Adrienne Miller

Ok, so here’s the weird thing. It turns out I have nothing to say about erotica. No, really. Nothing. I know because I’ve been trying. All damn day trying. 

I got up this morning thinking I would pound out this puppy in an hour, hour and a half tops, and then enjoy my Cherrios. But no, I filled up my cup of coffee, settled myself down and stared at the blank document page, and stared some more. No words. No ideas.

Which is odd, on account of me being a romance writer and all. I’m not a prude, at least,  I like to think I’m not. I write love and sex all the time, but usually in scene form and with about 50k words of tension and lead up. But just a page or two about erotica in general, well, it just wasn’t working.

And it wasn’t that I wasn’t trying. I even watched The Piano. I love that movie. So beautiful. So sensual. So freakin’ sexy. If anything was going to grace me with a heap of inspiration for this post it was going to be some hot mute lady on face tattoo man lovin’. But, alas, no. Two hours later, I was thoroughly entertained, but still staring at any empty page.

I tried, then stopped. I started, then deleted. Nothing seemed right. I was too damned intimidated by the topic to even get started. A few hours later, I still am. So, I’m throwing my hands up. And in the place of a semi-decent post, I offer you this video of Rufus Wainwright singing about some of the things I can’t seem to say.