Ithink books are my passion.
I write and read but so what? Isn’t literacy a standard in my culture and privilege?
Maybe it is because my favorites cause me to vibrate. A rough vibration that jerks my body and croaks my throat’s hum. As if my body is figuring out how to move all over again. Why do these books resonate so profoundly? Is it because there is a part of me that’s so broken off from Earth that it can only be reached through fiction? How did she get so lonely? How can I help him? Why do they need this book to come out?
I sleep cuddling up to my books. I contemplate the contemporary publishing industry like I was the CEO of Penguin Random House. My boyfriend is a writer; I am part of a polyamorous writing group called Write Bitch, Write. We hang out in bookstores and have increasingly been going to readings in Manhattan. I met the members in the NYC kink scene. That’s relevant because in the scene I created my entire persona over a book character — Bellatrix Lestrange.
An ideal would be writing on the constant. But I do what I can. And when I abstain from writing, I feel guilt, like I should be. Like writing is the thing I’m supposed to be doing. I want to organize words forever. Put that word over here. Move that there. Change that word for another. Make that string of words longer. Shorter. Cut it. Save it. Save all the words in my bowels. I am a book. I am difficult to read. Dull at times. But then you get to a chapter that you didn’t think you would make it to. And you are on the floor, clenched over, feeling. And though the book slipped out of your hands, you are crying, and laughing, and overcome. That single chapter will haunt you
always. Even if you didn’t enjoy the book on the whole.
Clitorises and Fiction is a venting post for my work in progresses. Writing musings, writing advice, horror and monster images, mythologies, publishing critiques, book reviews, and inspirations ahoy. The star of the show, for now, is a dark-fantasy and horror-erotica currently titled The Purple People Eaters. It is in the middle of its second draft.
The creator of this blog changes their pseudonym every five minutes. For now she is calling herself Indelibility. In stats he is 23, Brooklyn Bound, Queer, and Vegan. In the big picture they are rainbows, demons, cartoons, gore, clitorises and vulvas, bruises and gashes, urban rainforest, and moss.