My Glamorous Writing Life

I used to have this vision in my mind of authors who wrote erotica, clicking away at the keys while wearing silky lingerie and sipping a rich Cabernet. Sultry music playing, maybe some decadent chocolate-covered strawberries as a snack. Frequent breaks for self-pleasuring due to all those, ahem, steamy sex scenes.

After writing two romantic comedies, I decided to try my hand at erotic romance. However, because I’m a single mother to a teen boy, my writing reality is somewhat different than my idyllic vision.

I try to pen my words during his school day, but it often doesn’t happen. So, sometimes when I’m in the middle of a hot scene…She motioned for him to take off his pants which he quickly did, and when she wrapped her hand around his…

The door slams open. “Mom, where are you? I’m hungry.”

After padding to the kitchen in my flannel PJs (Yes, the ones I’ve worn now for two days straight) and throwing a Hot Pocket in the microwave, I try to get back into my sexy headspace.

“How was your day?” The boy stands behind me, munching on his Hot Pocket.

“It was good, now go away.”

Reads over my shoulder. “Is that the word cock?”

“What? No! Go away!” (I scramble to close the window.)

“It is!”

“I’m writing about a rooster.”

“Uh huh, sure. Oops.” (Some contents of the Hot Pocket leak onto the table, next to my laptop.)

“Really, dude?!”

He leaves the uneaten piece of his Pocket by the kitchen sink and plops down on the couch, blasting rap music from his phone. I remember I haven’t eaten in hours, so I wolf down his now-cold piece of Pocket and chase it down with my fourth cup of coffee, then return to finish my sex scene. But the foul rap lyrics coupled with SpongeBob SquarePants on the TV as background noise make for a very unsexy environment.

Sigh. There’s always tomorrow. Unless it’s summer vacation, in which case, I may have to start on a Captain Underpants-type of book instead.

Tiffany N. York lives in southern California with her spirited son, a diva Chihuahua, an ever-changing number of cats, and two screeching parakeets. She writes fiction to escape reality. Visit her website at www.tiffanynyorkauthor.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/tiffanynyorkauthor