WIWAW: From the Beginning

I read a news article about a woman who was fired from her job when it was discovered that she had one of those fans only sites where people pay to see nude pictures. I have been aware that the "home porn" industry existed (I know some women who do it -- that's a whole 'nother ball of wax), but never took much notice.

Until I read the part of the story where this woman said how much she earns selling sexy photos. Money-wise, she didn't care that she had been fired, she was just raising a stink because she felt it was infringing on her rights or whatever. But she claimed that she earned her yearly salary in one month on the fans only site and that she had already cleared over a million dollars selling nude pictures and videos.

Like in the cartoons, my eyes spun dollar signs.

In my line of work, I'm always looking for additional income streams and I REALLY liked the sound of a million dollars!

Unfortunately, my brain was in touch with reality.

Damn brain.

For a number of reasons, there was no way that I was going to be selling sexy pictures of myself.

Sigh.

Then my brain redeemed itself with an idea.

I'm a creative person and I've been lucky enough to have been able to parlay that creativity into a career. I can write. I have a decent imagination. I have sexy thoughts. People pay for sexy stuff. Those "Dear Penthouse" letters that I've heard about.

My brain screamed, "I can write sexy stories!" Then, with little brain arms thrust upwards in triumph, my gray matter took a victory lap around my cranium.

I can write sexy stories.

It turned out to be not as easy as I had initially hoped.

The writing part was easy. I have never suffered from the dreaded "Writer's Block." I can sit down and stare out the window (or do the dishes or walk the dog) and out of the random jumble and incessant white noise of my mind, something will begin to materialize. And once that does, then the words start flowing from my pen (although I finally transitioned to typing on a computer -- editing is so much easier!).

So... Sexy stories.

Okay. Time for a little research.

Who is my audience? Well, men, of course. They're horny little buggers.

What do they want? I seriously doubt that anyone is buying that porn lady's sex pics because of the scintillating use of light and shade or the intriguing way that she cleverly holds a mirror up to contemporary society.

They're buying tits and ass.

Fine.

I can do tits and ass.

I have tits and ass. This will be easy. I've heard all about "her heaving bosoms" and whatnot.

After a little more research...

Crud. The "heaving bosoms" thing is for women who want to escape into a warm and fuzzy fantasy world. Guys just want to play with themselves.

Oh! Got it! Change it to "her heaving tits." Boom! Male sexy!

Fire up the old laptop and start pounding the keys.

"Her heaving tits..."

Come on, Frey! Think like a real writer (although I've "technically" been a professional/paid writer for most of my adult life, I still think of myself as a hack).

Alright. What do real writers write like?

Got it!!

"Her tremulously heaving tits glowed in the soft, flickering candlelight with just a tantalizingly thin sheen of sweat hinting at the constantly churning cauldron of sexual passion that had been buried deep inside her lonely heart all these long years as his tender, young lips touched her like a single rose petal alighting upon the dew of a cool spring morning, a morning ripe with sensual possibilities for Greta Von Pewterschmidt, Countess of Wallingford."

Then I reread it.

Oh, this is foolish!

I know that real writers use all kinds of metaphors and similes and multisyllabic words and flowery adjectives, but when I try to write like a real writer, it just sounds fake. That's not how I write. That's not how I think. That's certainly not how I talk. And writing is just talking on paper (or pixels). I'm just telling you a story. We're just chatting.

So...

"He sucked on her tit."

Yup. That's how I think. That's how I talk. That's how I write. Direct and to-the-point.

Alrighty, then.

Oh, wait. It seems that people like a bit of a story with their sexy stuff. Some type of plot or something.

Okay. Okay. I can do plots.

And I need characters for these plots.

I've never written a long series, so clearly, these characters have to actually be realistic for this thing to hold any water. They have to be believable. They need names. Personalities. Relationships with each other.

Yikes! This is a big, honkin' bite to chew, here!

Okay. Got names. Now, where do I begin?

Well, they have to be adults, so I can't start at the very beginning. And a good story has an opening that grabs your attention. "He sucked on her tit," certainly is attention-grabbing! But I didn't want to start right in with sex. I wanted it to seem like the actual beginning of a story...

A story that people would want to read.

Characters they could relate to.

Characters that readers would care about and root for.

I didn't just want to write stories for guys to cum in their jockeys to. I would get bored. And if I got bored, readers would get bored, too.

And that's how Story Freya walked into Alex's life and the four of them (Freya's two best friends, Cyn and Katie, included) walked into my life.

I simply had to figure out who I was on Literotica and go with that. I can't be someone else, so I'll just be little ol' me.

I'll close with humble advice to writers (or to anyone)...

Remember, you are unique and original just like everyone else.