At some point it stops being typing and more becomes breathing.

So I'm going to ramble a bit here, because I can. And it's related to writing, which is what this is all for.

Basically.

I raised the question on Twitter but between the text limit and not wanting to gush overtly into the back of my next book - that's a privilege reserved for readers - I thought I'd bring it here, if only for my own posterity. It's been quite interesting to write this next publication, because at first I had certain aspects and points in mind that were going to be laid out along the way with the self-assurance of that this is my fiction, I can bend the genre and concept of 'contemporary' normality into as much flare of fantasy as I can get away with justifying. With that in mind I set off on writing, editing and turning it into a publishable work.

Yeah, this is going to ramble on a bit without making much sense.

Along the way though, the momentum and drive of it just seemed to take care of itself. I wasn't so much typing and trudging through the pages as breathing thought and feeling into form. It's very likely that's how it's always supposed to feel, and don't get me wrong, I've been back in consistently writing fiction since January and had the feeling of getting carried away quite easily. Getting carried away has birthed a good two volumes of Daemonique to prelude where the story originally started as a simple dark, kinky demonic thing.

Now when I think of the potential and span that series has spread out before it, it's a little daunting. In a good way, but still.

This however was a M/M Gay Erotica piece I'll be working on cover art and blurb for later. Jokes about the Queen aside, - bless her return to health, I had the honour of meeting Her Highness in 2011, along with the Duke of Edinburgh and Duchess of Northumberland - it's been an interesting thing to write and feel as I went along. It's just a little curious how it kind of feels like the writing can take on life of its own and take the plot where it wants, rather than where you may have envisioned it, or with what you envisioned. Perhaps I was thinking too broad range for cramming it into this first volume, and perhaps it'd just work better without.

I think the point I'm trying to make is writing, quite possibly as much as with any of the arts, is as much what it wants to make of you as what you try to make of it. I wrote this piece with a very general concept for the emotion between them, and the story itself decided on the terms of phraze and exactly who would be asking and saying what at this time. The intensity of the emotion in it because of that feels a measure stronger than previous versions, where I also had inspiration stagger and crash dreadfully around the midway point, and I think that's what has me so impressed with the outcome. It's currently weighing in at 16,220 with Author Note, which is a considerable amount more than its initial version by over 5k.

Bah, I'm talking absolute crap and should get some sleep and decide on a title. Tomorrow will be a stint of publishing and graphical design with maybe a quick port of a short story for sake of publicity.