Even Boydies Get the Blues/The Tightrope Metaphor

You may have guessed from the nature of a few of my previous posts that I’m not doing all that well.

And I’m not. Discovering why was a huge moment for me. Last night, after fits of tears over the well-being of a friend, I began to wonder something. Fuck that, I’ve been wondering it for the past two months. It’s just that the story of this friend triggered it again.

It’s like I’ve been dancing on a tightrope. For months on end, I managed to dance elegantly, if not a bit maniacal. But at some point, I think it was shortly after I’d returned from the last Erotic Meet I attended, I started asking myself questions.

I sank into a slump. This blog and my writing was the only thing keeping me upright on that rope. Dad’s situation got worse, I found it harder not to retire into myself completely, and any thought of sex completely disappeared. I mean, I did wank. But I found it harder and harder to write about. 

I  started wondering whether I should just let myself fall off the rope. One the one hand, nixing the blog, the writing and effectively the entire Jill Boyd personality seemed so fucking tempting. On the other hand, where the hell does that leave me? In the last year, I managed over 730 posts on this blog. It’s blood, sweat, tears and a massive case of RSI in the making. I would be leaving friends and readers and the tiny sprouts of my writing career behind. And I care too much about all that and all of you to do that.

But I keep wondering whether I can do more. Writing-wise, it feels like I can’t. Like I’ve backed myself into the erotica/sex niche so hard that I don’t know the way out anymore. I want a fresh start.

And I want that in life too. I’ve been babbling about this entire move to London for several years, but I have yet to put my money where my mouth is. What the hell is keeping me from just packing my bags and leaving?

(author’s note: the answer is that it’s become both a logistic mess and a general mind-fuck to find something in London, btw. I blame the Olympics. Fuckers.)

I know. I should get off my arse and take charge. Go and search what I’m looking for.

(author’s note: the answer to that would be stability. Carry on.)

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  1. singedwingangel

     /  April 25, 2012

    So make a new blog on a tamer side. That is what I do. I have my erotica/sex blog and then my ‘vanilla sex is not a big topic blog” Two sides of the same coin if you will. Here is my erotica page http://www.singedwingangelspad.org and then of course the ‘good girl’ blog is the one listed below. Some people in the tame world know of my erotica and love me anyway, just as the ones on this side as a rule know of my tame blog. There are some in the tame that don’t know, not because I am ashamed but because I don’t trust them with that information if you know what I mean.

  2. I write sweet romance under a completely different pen name. You haven’t really put yourself in a box. I understand why you feel that way, but you have choices. 🙂 If you need a break, take one. Your life is more important than anything else–if you don’t take care of yourself, no one else will. And when you get to be my age and/or have kids, the only regrets you’ll probably have are about not having lived as fearlessly as possible, not the risks you took that didn’t pan out (well, within reasonable limits, of course…you know, safe, sane, and consensual can apply to more than bdsm practices 😉 Just my opinion, of course. 🙂 Hugs and best wishes…

  3. cjlemire

     /  April 26, 2012

    I’m not sure I’m in any position to be offering you advice. My life is in such a different place than yours is right now, that I worry I’ll just come across as smug. But I read something on another site today that resonated with me. If your answer to a question is, “Yes, but…” then you’re just using six letters and two words to say, “No.”

    So do you want to move to London? There’s always going to be another Olympics. There will always be a reason not to go. But as Mark Twain said, twenty years from now you’ll be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than the ones you did.

  4. Self-doubt goes with the territory – trust me, I’ve been writing on-and-off for almost 30 years, and never made a living from it, so I know. If you’re genuinely tired of the erotica angle, try to incorporate it into something more ambitious, or go off onto a completely new tangent – I had all but given up writing altogether when a project begun as a hobby morphed into a non-fiction book that amazed me by finding a publisher (as has a follow-up); that put me back on the fiction trail, and the creation of the whole ‘Alice’ concept which endures no matter how fucked-up my real life gets (and it is pretty messy right now). Over the past decade I have actually made some money from my writing, and I have built an audience for my fiction that numbers several thousand – OK, not exactly the ambitions I had when I was your age, but it’s something. Above all, keep writing: those of us afflicted with this talent/curse (delete as appropriate) cannot, and should not, stop.


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