Tag Archives: Paris

My Not So Ideal Life Makes Better Fiction

Everyone has things they want in life. They also have their idea of what their ideal life would be like. About fifteen years ago my ideal life would have been to have had five children, a loving husband, a huge house on a lot of land and the money to afford it all. My reality was vastly different. Instead I had one child, several miscarriages, and an abusive codependent husband who gambled away the household money. Today my ideal life is also different from the reality. In my ideal life, I would be married to a man whom I could share experiences and goals with and we’d have a media empire. The reality is that I can’t meet a man worthy of dating me more than one time and I have to build the empire I want solo. But the reality doesn’t stop me from wanting more. It does, unfortunately, sometimes dampen some of the excitement. As I’m reflecting on my regrets, my dreams, my failed relationships, rejection and my ever looming single status, I do know this: although I don’t know the reasons, seasons change and my lifetime may not have the love and marriage I hoped for, my experiences make for really good stories, which will one day make me very wealthy. There’s always a silver lining to my clouds.

There’s so much of my life that I could never have made up in a million years, such as the date from hell I had earlier in April 2011. There are authors who can only talk about other people’s experiences and hope we as an audience find it realistic enough to read about. But a lot of what I have written thus far, and will write and publish forthcoming, is based on an actual situation or person I have had a personal experience with. Yes, I use my imagination to make some of it more interesting, I don’t reveal anything that I could be sued for (names for instance) and I take certain literary liberties such as changing locations and details. However, I can honestly say that some of the men I wrote about in “The Goodie Bag; The Erotic Fiction Collection” are real men. None of them were my husband; some of them weren’t even my boyfriends. They didn’t necessarily have feelings for me or me for them, but the chemistry was good while it lasted and it made for good intimacy and sex. That’s the absolute truth. Not too many women get to say that they actually fulfilled some of their fantasies. And very few men get to say they were inspiration for erotic fiction. What is most interesting to me is that the men who inspired some of my work haven’t even bothered to read it. That’s too bad for them because according to male customers who have bought and read “The Goodie Bag”, it’s a very good read.

If nothing else, although my experiences haven’t always been pleasant, and I don’t have my ideal life (and I don’t always feel positive that I ever will), but my experiences combined with my talent will take me places. Maybe some of those places will be Paris, Dubai, Morocco and Rio. It would be nice to share it all with a man who loves me, and whom I love in return. And if not, my not-so-ideal life will still make for better fiction, that I hope will lead to everything else I’d like my media empire to be made of.