The Mouth Is The Window to The Soul

 

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Hello friends,

I have been a bit of an absentee blogger the last few weeks. My last post was over two weeks ago as I was headed south to my beach week on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I had just been sorted into Slytherin by the Pottermore website. My identity has recovered from that reality giving smack across the face. I have come to realize that most of my evils lie in my inability to, in fact, lie.

Fundamentally most people are full of shit, I think. I really need to hone these skills. Do you ever sit in a meeting and think – I just do not give a flying fuck about this discussion? So do I. The energy taken to keep these feelings from showing on my face is grueling. Utterly exhausting. Everyone else has a normal face on. Why can’t I bullshit up a better face?

There is a gentleman at work. I care for him dearly in the most platonic sense possible, but our world views are on the opposite sides of the universe. In this case I can usually be very tight lipped (at work and all). Unfortunately he cannot. With utmost confidence I can say that I am right about everything and he is terribly wrong. But I simply lack the ability to shut my mouth about it. I let him push me to my limit and it doesn’t take very long. Then I call bullshit on him. Loudly. Why can’t I just smile and nod like other people.

This morning I was sitting with a friend while a child nearby threw a full blow tantrum. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual atomic level explosion that is typical to a child of a certain age. There are two ways that can go. Daddy can earn my respect by removing said child from my dining vicinity while it blows over or Daddy can OFFER A FUCKING LOLLIPOP! My lovely friend simply says, “Poor thing.” “Asshole,” I say simply. Who is right?

Twitter has been a great release for me. There is no need for restraint on Twitter. It is pure, unadulterated, mouthy freedom. Follow if you don’t @ThePaigeRandall.

While I’m at it, I have to say something to all of those millions of young girls on Twitter who believe the following to be true:  1 – Adulthood sucks.  2 – True love is the goal of all living.  3 – I am nothing more than a vessel for sex.  These are fallacies, not truths.

I just walked into a bar where I worked many years ago. The uniform consisted of a low cut top and a skirt with a very high slit.  I basically looked like a prostitute. I spent endless evenings with men thinking they were buying the right to get handsy and worrying about finding my one true love. I would not go back to those miserable days for any amount of money on the planet!  Girls, know this:  Youth is over rated.  True love is the icing, not the cake and there will be a lot of icing on a lot of cakes. Be more than your sexuality. Be interesting. Be intelligent. Be funny. Selling yourself short is the worst mistake you can make.

Grow up, understand your potential, become confident, make no damn apologies, be as mouthy as you want. And move the fuck on.

Sexy Lunching with a Writer

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I just had the most fantastic lakeside lunch! Romance novelist Isabelle Richards and I enjoyed a three hour, boozy, laugh out loud, sun-filled afternoon discussing our novels. Isabelle is an amazing woman and she has been the driving force behind my work. You might notice a credit to me in her Acknowledgements section. I had the honor of editing When Fates Collide and it really helped me to get writing. I fucking love her! Over the last months, we have spent an inordinate amount of time discussing which is more intimate – oral or vaginal sex. Our views do not align, but the discussion has been a hell of a lot of fun.

This week, we did a trade. She reviewed my manuscript while I reviewed hers. Today was THE MEET. Isabelle is writing the sequel to When Fates Collide. How fun to sit and discuss the motivations and complications of our characters like they are sitting at the next table. We covered their actions and reactions, their morality, their chances for redemption. Ok, there was more. We discussed their bodily fluids, the timeliness of their erections, and how they’d look naked. It was a very productive conversation. (Sorry for the backwash photo btw.)

I’m going to post this waste of a blog entry and then open the file for Circling. I have let it rest for a few weeks. I needed a little distance, but I am ready to get back in and finish it.  I am so close.

Maybe going dark for a while. I’ll be back…

 

Delicious Duplicity

 

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I lead two lives.  I am Batman. Okay that is a stretch.  I am probably closer to Jeckyll and Hyde.  Reliable professional by day.  Passionate, writer of love by night.

By day, I sit up straight at my desk, say the word fuck under my breath only in a hushed whisper, and can always be counted on to meet the tightest deadline. I say please and thank you and neaten items on my desk, more than a little compulsively. I prefer my stapler parallel to my tape dispenser, at a slight angle to the tissue box, which is parallel to my in-box and so on.  I keep cough drops and mint gum and fruit flavored antacids in my desk to share with anyone in need. My beverage rests on a hand made coaster to prevent condensation damage to the surface of my desk.

But by night… well that is a different matter entirely and I’m not sharing.

Yesterday, while I was sitting in Starbucks revising the latest draft of Circling, an old acquaintance came over to say hello with his children. My how you girls have grown I said with a smile, sliding my hand to protect the scene I was editing from young eyes. If he knew my hand rested on a steamy oral interlude, he would have had a good laugh.

I’m not ready to share yet though. I’m enjoying the duplicity too much.