Since I’ve got my laptop, I’ve found I love writing on it out in my family room instead of the cave of an office we have. But there are several problems with that. The main one is other people wander in and out and interrupt my train of thought. But there are occasions when I want to write a particular type of scene that gets more graphic than I’m comfortable admitting that I write to my sons, or even my husband.
So I close up my laptop and head for my desktop. At least I can close the door and work in relative privacy because my kids know that closed door means I don’t want to be disturbed – thank goodness I don’t have little ones, then I’d never do that.
Except on the weekends, my husband will often trail me into the office and sit down at his computer. His desk is kitty corner to mine, so he sits almost directly beside me and with a slight turn of his head can read my monitor. Which he’s doing now.
While I was working on a particularly graphic sex scene taking place on a beach with the heroine, well, going down on the hero.
Now I write these stories with full knowledge that other people – people I know, and meet face to face at TRW – will read it. Yeah, I know they may look at me and wonder … hmmm but it doesn’t particularly bother me because they write stuff like that too. So why is it different when it’s my husband of 29 years reading such a scene? It’s not like we’ve never had sex. Why do I have an automatic reflex of shrinking the screen down and pretending I’m checking my email?
Does anyone else experience this? Or is it just me?
**Added later: Hubby left and I got down to some very productive writing. (Ooops, sorry, bad unintentional pun there.) Another 4,000 words today, and hit the 15,000 word mark on this story alone – which means I’ve written over 17K for the week! Only a couple scenes left to write on this short story, and those have been fairly thoroughly outlined. But I figure it’ll end up at about 20K. I’m going to start work on a short synopsis for it tonight.