Sorry folks that I am sliding in so late for posting today, and on my very first day as the newest member of The Grip too. I just got home from class not too long ago. : ) And I didn't manage to get up early enough to post this morning.
I admit, this topic is something I really struggled with. (It kind of makes me worry about some of the future topics LOL). As a college student, I write academic crap (which is the politest word I can come up with to describe some of the stuff I wond up turning in), but while I don't like it, it isn't really something I am afraid to give a try.
For me, my true writing fear is children's stories.
I have a daughter at home, one who is on the verge of womanhood. She’s always known that I write, since it has been a part of my life since she was a very young child. Now, her knowing what I write is a whole different ballgame. I plan to wait a few more years before I approach the topic of what I write, since I write more erotica than erotic romance and romance.
Because she has always had an interest in my writings, I have wished for a while now that I could write children’s stories, which is something that I could share with her. At the same time, the very idea of writing a children’s story terrifies me.
I did write one short story for my daughter for her birthday. I called it “Tornado Tess and the Terrified Turtle”.
Here’s just the beginning to it …
Tess was a lovely and smart girl, but she simply loved to make a mess. Almost as soon as she and her mother finished cleaning her room, she was dragging toys out and cluttering the room back up. It was impossible to find anything amongst the piles of clothes and dolls, of books and crayons.
Her parents tried to help her keep her room clean, but she was like a tiny tornado.
One day, Tess’s dad took her out hiking while her mommy was at work. While they were walking along a trail, Tess paused here and there to pick flowers.
She picked red ones and yellow ones, sunflowers and daisies and lots and lots of wildflowers. She was going to make a pretty bouquet for her mommy.
As she was bending down to pick a particularly lovely flower of pink and white, Tess noticed a colorful rock that seemed to be moving.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look at that rock, it’s moving.” she called out. Her father squatted down next to her and picked up the grayish shape. Out popped a head and four legs.
The story goes on, Tess takes the turtle home with her and it winds up lost in her messy room. In the end, she has to clean her room to find the poor lost critter.
All in all, it sucked (again, going for polite terms LOL)! But she loved that I wrote it for her.
I guess I will just have to hope that when she is old enough that I can tell her what it is that I do write, that she can handle it, cause if I have to write children's books to be able to share them with her, we are both doomed to disappointment.