I don't want to write comedy, because how many people actually laugh at books? I would rather not try action or adventure, because I don't want my books turning into shit movies. I am just not good at horror, so that's a bust.
So after knocking down almost all major genres, I yet again left myself with romance and drama. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't have a problem with romance and drama. But unless I want a broader fan base than teen girls and soccer moms, I have to either avoid romance altogether, or I have to somehow think of a way to make the romance genre my bitch.
"Umm… what is something that hasn't been done before?"
Nowadays, I had to use every possible second brainstorming. So most of my showers were spent banging my head into the wall instead of scrubbing.
"Romance horror? Nah, how the fuck would that work? I can't even write horror in the first place. Maybe a combination isn't what I am looking for."
For a couple years now, I have been trying to finally hit off my writing career. It started off with some blogs about restaurants and a couple internet shows, then I tried my hand at creative stuff which tickled my fancy a lot more. Some poems, short stories, the basics. But the more and more I wanted to write, the less and less I wanted to live a simple blue collar life.
"What if, like, one character breaks the fourth wall and knows they are in a love story? Maybe, maybe."
Every week day from ten to three o'clock was spent working at a tiny shop down the street where I just spent a couple hours each day working with simple machines fixing small appliances and making a couple parts. Not hard work, just tedious.
"Maybe it should be something taboo, like an older woman and a younger guy? Nah, that would get me in trouble."
Doing simple shop work gives you a lot of time to think, and the more you think, the more you wish you were doing something else. So every day after work was another attempt at either brainstorming or forcing myself to put something on the page. And for two years, everyday ended with either a 'this sucks' or a 'maybe I'll work on it tomorrow.'
"A monster? No, what the fuck am I thinking."
But recently, I started narrowing down what I think might work for me. I finally convinced myself that a romance story might be where I have to start. But even though I know the race, I still need to find the God damn track.
After one more twenty five minute shower (twenty minutes being rinsed by hot water, the other five scraping my skin clean after realizing it's been twenty minutes) I headed off to work. I can just feel it, maybe another day or two and I will finally be able to make myself write something.
I walked in through the shop door, and the familiar hum and ruckus of old machines struggling to stay together welcomed me yet again. At his station was my one and only co-worker Josh.
"Hey man, good morning."
"Hey Josh, how are you?"
"Doing good Dean, doing good. Hey, you got some gaskets that need replacing, and a couple hoses need patching."
"Where's the boss?"
"Take your pick. Either inside his boat, or his wife."
"What about both?"
"That'd be an interesting porno, I bet."
Josh and I found this job together. The boss (just get used to us calling him that, that's all we ever did anyway) was looking for some guys to replace his nephews at the shop once they left, and me and Josh fit the bill. Two guys without a college degree and no kids to give us excuses to miss work. The boss taught us on the spot what we needed to know, and after a week or so, me and Josh practically ran the place. Taking and making orders, signing for shipments, etc. The boss made a couple stops at the shop every week to either do some paperwork or sign our checks. He ain't a bad guy or anything, but let's just say me and Josh have a lot of fun when he isn't around.
"So what are you working on today?"
"Almost done with that piston, just got some spiffing and shining to do. After that, I got another vacuum to fix."
"I hope this one has spaghetti caught in it again."
"Fuck you, and fuck your vacuum spaghetti."
We were buddies back in high school, but working at the same shop for two years has practically made us designated best men for each other.
"So Dean, you get any writing done?"
"Nah man, still having trouble thinking of something to write."
"Really? Still?"
"Yup. At least I kind of came to grips I am probably gonna have to start with a romance story."
"Romance, eh? About what?"
"That's the hardest part. I've been trying to think of something unique or special that isn't illegal in the real world."
"Well what have you come up with so far?"
"Eh, I was considering age gaps, species, fourth wall breaks, but nothing is sticking."
"Hmm."
I saw the cogs in Josh's head turning. He wasn't a scholar, but he wasn't a caveman either.
"What, you got something?"
"You know brother, speaking of pornos…"
"What? What about pornos?"
"Why not give erotica a try?"
"Erotica? Seriously? Written porn?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"Dude, if I can't write an exciting chase scene, how am I supposed to write a sexually exciting scene?"
"Listen, I know you're a virgin but-"
"Alright, alright, alright. I get it."
"Think about it man, it can't hurt to try."
"You know what, maybe you're right. Thanks Josh."
"No problem. Now I gotta go check out that vacuum."
Josh made his way to the back room, but I was left standing there, contemplating what he just said. I never even considered adult material before, but now that I am, it started to really resonate with me. There's already a lot of erotica out there, but it's probably a lot easier to be unique with dicks and vaginas than it is sappy one liners and heartbreaks. You know what, this might actually work!
The second I get home, I am gonna try to write me some porn.
For the first time in a while, I was actually kind of excited to get home and fire up my laptop. But duty calls, and I had a couple jobs ahead of me. I fired up a machine and some tools and was just about to start working until I heard Josh screaming from the back room.
"Mother fucker, it's vermicelli this time!"