Close call, writing and sex.

Last night, after shutting down my computer for the night, I went to gather the dogs into my cabin, and couldn’t find Trin Trin anywhere. Somewhat perturbed I head out into the yard, calling for her repeatedly with only a faint whisper of a sound coming from behind my cabin, well out of sight. A few more calls ensued, and when the monster did not come running –the ways she usually did– I went back inside to get my penlight and headed for my little backyard, instead.

Mosha and Lhabana were making a racket there, so with a certain sense of foreboding I switched on the light, and needed a full three seconds to realize what was going on. Trin Trin had attempted to scale the fence, and then somehow managed to get stuck with her collar on the top of it. This left her to dangle down the height of the fence with her back paws just barely skimming the ground.

I rushed towards her, muttering something about her being an idiot for attempting such a feat, while I tried to wiggle my way towards what appeared to be an already exhausted body that was partially hidden behind one of the Eucalyptus trees. With somewhat frantic tugging, and lifting Trin Trin who was hardly even moving as she stared at me, I finally, with quite some effort, managed to untangle her collar from the wires and set her down on all fours.

She staggered a bit, looked a little dazed and then started to wag her tale in a rather excited fashion. All was well, but I was shaky while I lay in bed for hours trying to fall asleep.

But, on to today:

I wake to a bright and shiny day, with a clear, blue, sky overhead when I let the dogs out and go over the night’s dream.
It was on a ranch, I recall, horses aplenty, and a warm august day when I return from my ride and head to the large stables, painted in a fresh red. A couple of teens are chattering excitedly behind while they sit atop some bay quarter horses, their voices mixing in with the sounds of cattle grazing steadily in a paddock nearby. I feel exhilarated from the ride, sitting in the saddle comfortably as I pat the black and white pinto beneath me on his neck and croon that he did well.

From the ranch house a woman appears, standing on the wrap-around porch as she waves at us the moment we pass, promising a hearty meal for when we’re done taking care our horses. She’s familiar to me somehow, blond and blue-eyed and partial owner of the large spread on which I currently reside.

Dismounting in front of the stables, a handsome man comes from within, smiling his welcome as he helps the youngsters to the ground and instructs them to follow me inside where we can unsaddle and feed the eager mounts before we call it a day.

I go through the motions of taking the saddle down with little effort, chatting with the teens that are obviously inexperienced with horses, if their halting movements are anything to go by.
They’re a cheerful lot though, and in little time we are done and head back out to wash up and join the man and woman inside the ranch house that is painted in a pale yellow and white.

It is a lovely place, I muse distractedly, rubbing my dusty palms against the Jeans that encase my legs, and climb the steps leading onto the porch wearing gorgeous leather boots.
The man and woman, obviously our hosts, usher us towards kitchen where a table filled with food awaits, along with several cowboys of old, who beckon us to hurry because they are starving.

I am about to sit down when suddenly the dream fades, making me sigh regretfully as I sit up in my bed and make a desperate grab for the monster, before she can bounce to the floor and start her daily tug of war with my quilt.

The morning rituals pass without incident and with enough speed to allow me to arrive at house right on time. Exercise day is here again, and I feel revived enough to go through the routine without feeling like a stork, the way I did the last time. The motions go smoothly and I make good time covering them all.
A hot shower follows, as usual, before I set out to hang the day’s laundry while locking Knight II up in the pantry, lest he drags the basket to the dirty floor again.

Not much later, after eating a quick breakfast, I eagerly settle down at the table to get my messages of the day over with and start on the vampire story once more.
It takes me a little while to get back in swing and as the day progresses the number pages steadily increase until dusk falls and it is time to visit Clue at the Vet’s.

Once there, big brother and I are informed that the latest test results show that Clue doesn’t have encephalitis, much to my relief–but I’m also chagrined for having been scared with such a serious disease in the first place. With the main veterinarian finally there, they seem to have located the real problem at long last.

Added to the bacterial infection, which they had already discovered, there is a slight bump on his side and when they examined it, taking a biopsy even, they found that the bump is filled with puss that most likely leads straight to Clue’s spine–in the exact spot where we said he was hurting in the first place.

According to the vet, it is pressing against his spinal column causing the partial paralysis to his back legs. Now Clue will be operated upon tomorrow, while they see what they can do to remove the abscess and thus, the problem.
If all goes well he can come home afterward or the next day, which Clue will most certainly appreciate since today, for the first time since we brought him to the hospital, he is actually howling at the end of our visit and he is back in his cage.

Though I hate leaving him behind, again, I am much relieved that the problem will be dealt with at last.

Once at home, and the younger sibs already having fed themselves with a curry soup, I decide for a portion of French fries along with a salad to serve as tonight dinner, before resuming with the latest book project.
Since this particular tale will be aiming for the paranormal audience, a love scene is written in quite some detail. And while big brother and I discuss the options of when, how and for how long, hysterical laughter fills the house, since everyone –for some reason they’re all listening in on the ongoing discusson– has their own opinion about this matter.

Will they go all the way such a short time after meeting each other? Where will that first special kiss be shared? Which position are they in when they do the deed? All valid questions that seem to demand the most ludicrous responses from males and females alike, as suggestions are tossed back and forth between us all.
By the time I finally get it all down on a whopping four pages of double-meaning dialogues, roughhousing in a dark alley and some seriously excited protagonists, I’m so weak with laughter that is all I can do to read the pages out loud for all to hear.

Seriously, real life does not do a paranormal vampire romance novel justice.

Having spent the majority of the day immersed in engorged manhoods, throbbing female parts and God knows what else, I finally decide to call it a day and shake my head while I shut the computer down. I’m amazed that the poor machine isn’t steaming. Hah.

Sex. It is a strange thing, really. If done right– the way I always try to describe “it” can be a wonderful way to deepen the insight into the main protagonists of a story while still fitting somehow. Yet if it is done wrong, it is just downright tardy.

It is one of the things that seem to be a major problem in today’s commercial fiction. Those who started out with the explicit sex/love scenes did so in a tasteful manner, fitting such scenes into an intricate storyline that allowed the reader to decide whether to just skip these parts, or fully enjoy them. But as the years past and the popularity rose, some authors appeared to think that if they just put in enough skin, grunting and groping they were home free.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. When I read a book, I want to read, feel and see an actual bond forming between the hero and heroine. Whether they have sex behind closed doors or right, slap-dab in my face is really a secondary matter to me.

It annoys me to no end to read about some lusty couple, filling a solid two thirds of a story with their sexual prowess and have them proclaim true love at the end, when they have barely exchanged three full sentences between them.
If that’s the way a story goes, than it isn’t what I perceive as love, no matter how blinding their orgasm or how often they proclaim to have never experienced anything of the likes before.
Without some emotional connection, some form of actual bonding, they might as well be using inventive props. Hah.

I do understand that sex is “hot item” these days –pardon the pun– and it is for that reason that I’ll write it down… I mean I’m a writer, and basically they’re just words put in a certain context… but sometimes I do miss the old days where the couple falls in bed kisses– and promptly the next morning is there, and they’re having breakfast with silly smiles on their faces.

I know it’s hokey, but after reading through a pile of “mixing bodily fluids” hokey sounds really good. As a matter of fact I am often inclined to grab a horror just to get in a different mindset after such exploits.

But enough of this little rant: It really all comes down to personal taste anyway.

Where was I? Oh yes, shutting down for the night.
With the dogs leading the way, I climb up to my cabin for some fun and relaxation, as soon as they are fed and I have changed into my comfortable sleeping clothes.

I am careful to keep a close eye on Trin Trin, who shows no particular interest in repeating last night’s stunt and is now quietly lying on my bed, snoring softly.
There isn’t much room on the bed, not with Knight II stretched out, Chaos slumped over his paws, Dax curled up at the food end with Mosha and Sitabah squeezed between the pillows and wall, but it is cozy.

Little room but plenty of heat, much to my pleasure, and with this I conclude today’s recount and sign off for the day.