How do you chase your dreams?

Last week, I had the joy and privilege of watching my friend Delilah Marvelle take a major step in making her dream come true. Ever since going to culinary school, she has wanted to own a restaurant. And she reached a  point in her life where she could make it happen!

Delilah dressed to fit the part!

Sshe and her family purchased a building in Hillsboro, Oregon. Last week, she invited everyone to come down and watch the boring, ugly facade on the building to come down.

When I feel like I will never achieve my dreams, I'm always encouraged by others who are creating their best lives. How do YOU chance your dreams?

Every historical tea house needs historical gum and sweets.

What it looked like in the middle of everything.

This is going to be wicked cool when it is finished.

No Guilty Pleasures

This morning, I woke, remembering the feel of an ex-lover’s skin under my lips. It was the thin, warm, tender skin of the crook of his neck. I could hear the sound of his panting and the way he fit between my legs. 

I wanted nothing more than to call him, to beg him to meet me in a lovely hotel for one more rendezvous. 

You know what? It was okay for me to feel this way. I didn’t need to feel guilty because I missed someone I had once (still) cared for deeply. 

One of the myths of a committed relationship is that you can never remember or dream of someone else. Your sexuality now belongs to your partner. 

It doesn’t. You get to have your lawless desires. You get to fantasize and orgasm from thinking of whom ever you want. 

(Need I say that desiring some one does not give you permission to be a jerk to your main squeeze?)

My delicious dream stayed with me. It brought great pleasure to my day to think on such sensuous activity. I had a glide in my stride and a dip in my hip, as Parliament/Funkadelic would say. Instead of beating myself up for my unconscious brain, thinking that perhaps I had inadvertently cheated on My Charming Man in my dreams, I allowed it to be a joy, a delight in the person who had been the focus of my passion. 

I refuse to feel guilty for any of my pleasures. I hope this gives you permission to savor your pleasures, too.  

Kisses, Tony Stark. Even now, you bring me great delight.

A dream I never thought I'd see.

Ever since I was a young girl, I adored The Muppets. I was a member of The Muppet Show Fan Club, I adored Sesame Street, and I have seen all (I think) of the Muppet movies.


I even wanted to be a Muppeteer. Which I believed was not happening in my lifetime.

But now, at the ripe age of (almost) 51, I got to experience a true dream. At Seattle's Museum of Pop Culture, they are running an exhibit on Jim Henson.

And I took pictures!

Kinda French, Kinda Beat Poet.

 I got to design two Muppets on their universal body. I could have kept going, but I wasn't going to be a total jerk and take time away from the children. 

It wasn't easy, though. :) 

I even tried performing a Muppet, but I didn't get any video. Hee!

I called this one The Farm Wife.

Thank you, MoPoP and the Henson Family for giving us all chance to be dreamers again. 

 

The Pleasure Center: Miser's Vacations

The Pleasure Center series isn't all baths and sexy. Sometimes, pleasure is about dreaming of a different life. My mother used to call these dreams and fantasies Miser's Vacations, because they cost no money but still refresh.

The Orient Express

One of my favorite Miser Vacations is fantasizing about glamorous rail travel. I love this thought so much, I've written and re-written variations on train sex and finally got it on in Vamping It Up.

I am fascinated by comfortable, leisurely travel since I love to visit new places. Can you imagine dining like this??

The Orient Express in Andaluz

I love writing on trains, too. You are away from your usual demands. I use the time for daydreaming and brainstorming.

And just for a tease, here is a section of my heroine Holly's train fantasy, just for you.

Her Marine knelt behind her and rested his face against the inward curve of the small of her back. He inhaled as though smelling her deepest essence. Holly rested her weight on his chest and closed her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her abdomen and placed his hands below her navel. His teeth tugged her tee-shirt higher. He licked the small patch of skin he revealed. Holly shuddered. The hairs on her arms raised in response to his soft tongue.

He blew cool air against the wet spot. Her nipples hardened.

Holly pressed her bottom into his body, wanting his tongue and hands on more sensitive places.

He obeyed her silent command. He cupped her ankles and caressed her legs up to her hidden ass cheeks. Her bare, sensitized skin registered the lines on his palms and the whorls of his fingertips.

He squeezed the hem of her shirt over her ass and hissed in excitement when he saw her panties. A pink satin bow sat right above her tailbone. Thin red straps of lace led from the bow out to the leg band, creating a fan-like pattern over her dark skin.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against her cheeks. He cupped the sides of her hips, just over her saddlebags, and squeezed.

His action shocked her. Her hips were her least favorite part of her body, and he was worshipping them as though they were delectable.

“You have a perfect ass,” he growled. His lips vibrated against her. The buzz traveled through her pelvic bone and set her clitoris alive.

She couldn’t help herself. Holly ground her butt against his face. She willed him to go faster, to put that delicious tingle where it would do the most good.

Rolling with it.

Photo by Michael Baxter.

In Belly Dance, there is a section of the music called the "Taqsim". It is a Turkish word meaning "Solo" or "Solo action".

For a taqsim, the music is completely improvised, much like a live jazz solo. This means the dancer completely improvises as well. She has no idea what will come at her next. When the dancer and the musician are connected, it becomes an intimate and profound performance that binds the spectators, the band, and the dancer together.

The solo/taqsim is often a slow piece of music (but it does not have to be!). When the dancer moves slowly, we can see every thought, every impulse for her actions.

It is hypnotic, peaceful, and strong.

Going slow in writing creates this same sense of wonder. Writers can get so caught up in page count, word count, number of submissions in this quarter- anything that is quantifiable, really.

In this time of hibernation, racing from plot point to plot point can create anxiety. Go slow. Dig deep. Show us your passion.

Idea to Story, Part Two.

Previously, in Idea to Story,  I talked about Dr. Snickerdoodle and the tales of his youth.

Now I have an idea about a young man who cared very little for others feelings, a bully who possessed sheer animal magnetism. One of those people you just know that their comeuppance will be an ugly, ugly experience.

This begins the first draft. The first draft is about getting the basics out of your head. For most writers, the first draft includes notes, photographs or drawings of the characters, and the framework of where you want to go.

I do most of my brainstorming and first drafting by hand. Everyone is different, of course. Some writers can do it all on the keyboard.

I like handwriting since it gives me a chance to scratch things out, doodle, and go in multiple directions without worrying too much about making sense. The idea is to explore the limits of the idea. Is is a short story or full length novel? What is the setting like? Who the heck are these people??

I set my pen to paper and let it flow forth without thinking too much. Once I start thinking, I get uptight about what the story needs - setting, description, strong active verbs, shorter sentences here, longer sentences there, blah, blah, blah, you know the rest.

That comes in the second draft phase.

The first draft is about experimenting. Do what you need to do to free yourself. Go to the library or a coffee shop or the local playground or bird sanctuary or zoo or whatever and play with the idea.

And that messy, joyous, crazy, unorganized piece of weirdness is your first draft.

Dream Big!

Self portrait of Peter Paul Rubens

Writers are told "not to quit their day jobs", that publishing is a difficult industry to break into, that you'll never be as big as you dream.

To these naysayers, I say,

MEET PETER PAUL RUBENS

Rubens, 1577-1640, was the foremost painter of his time and is considered one of the truly great artists of Western Civilization.

Rubber ducky added to show scale.

But most people know Rubens through pictures in a book - small pictures, if not down right tiny.
Look at these lovely thumbnails from the book The Louvre: All The Paintings.

Teeeeny-tiny little dreams. See that picture on the right with the three naked ladies just sort of hanging out? Yeah, looks like a masterpiece from a big shot artist, huh??

But! Rubens dreamed BIG. And I do mean BIG.

It's hard to take a steady picture in the presence of the magnificence of Rubens.

Here is (a crappy iPhone) photo of the painting in person, at the Louvre. With me, a 5'10" next to it to show scale.

This is not the dream of someone who is scared of losing their day job.

So dream like Rubens. Dream big. Dream of words thirteen feet tall and 10 feet wide.