We did not own a television until my Father died in 1972. I was 13 by then.
One of the first things my mom did was go out and buy a TV. I guess she wanted to chase the demons of loss and loneliness away.
The store had like a zillion sets and showed a zillion athletes all doing the same thing on big screens, small screens, black and white screens.
At that time the Olympic Games in Munich were halfway. I don’t remember much of that period and cannot recall having heard or read something about the terrorist attacks.
My Father saw television as something mind-numbing. Instead he motivated me to read as much as possible. He did not like comics either because the drawings were also deadening for one’s imagination.
I was 8 or so when he took me to the nearby public library. The kid’s section was nothing more than a handful of comics and, well, books for young kids. My father told the librarian I was allowed to read any book I wanted.
I enjoyed Jules Verne and stories about Vasco da Gama and Marco Polo, daydreaming about exploring unknown territory myself.
During my military service I was, among other tasks, responsible for the library so I had access to a vast amount of books. During the day I worked for the army’s photo-department.
One of my favorite writers is Charles Bukowski. I have all his books, almost all from Black Sparrow Press.
I guess I can safely say I am an avid reader. By the way, I don’t own a television set either but I do watch quite some movies.
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When I was younger I wanted to be a writer. Somewhere deep down I still hope I’ll be able to write more and something meaningful like a novella.
I have quite an imagination and even more when in an erotica mindset.
In the eighties I wrote a handful of short stories. After gathering enough courage, I decided to send one to a literary magazine I knew. I was very surprised when I got a letter back telling me they had liked it very much and accepted it for publication. A few weeks later I found a check in the mail. If memory serves me well the paid me about 40$.
Wow. That was one great feeling.
With the money I took my girlfriend out for dinner. I was living with her and she was my very first real relation.
A few weeks later I read a positive critique of my story in another literary magazine. Shortly after I discovered what a cheater my girlfriend really was and soon after I left her.
The next few decades I spent finding my way through life. A few shitty relations, an even shittier marriage. The world changed considerably when Internet became popular. If you knew how to search all the knowledge of the world would scroll over your screen.
During those years I did not write a single syllable. Besides, I wasted the biggest part of my marriage in a state of almost continuous dreariness and even suffered from a burn-out.
I left home and the life I knew on December 1st, 2006. When I left for my work in the morning I kissed my daughter’s bye bye said thank you and sorry to my wife. That evening I came sort of home in an empty and cold apartment.
A year and a half later I decided I was ready for a new relationship and chose to search somebody via a dating service. Also I wanted to write again and after creating a profile on a dating site I started a blog too. I wanted to tell the story of a man trying to find a companion.
I found someone soon after and I tried to post something every day. Soon I had a handful followers and that was fun. I included my 100 Photographs project in my blog. After a visit to her doctor she found out she had breast cancer.
I wrote about the battle on an almost daily basis. It was about how I experienced it, about my emotions. There was her alcohol abuse and with the chemotherapy the effect was pure rage and anger and hate. It devoured every inch of a feeling of care I had for her.
I waited till she was declared cancer free, then I left. At that time my blog received an average of about 250-300 readers a day. I killed the blog the day after I left. Did not even bother to take a backup. That blog was my past and I did not need my past as a companion.
Shortly after the Gods looked down and smiled and did their magic.
My path crossed that of Princess and Princesses’ path crossed mine. On that precise crossroad we met and fell in love.
A year later I started a new blog. I wanted it to be a very personal blog about our growth as a couple and even more about our growth as a couple in the wonderful and intense world of BDSM.
I also decided to write in English as I wanted our story to be read by everyone whom would be interested.
So am I a writer? No.
This year I wrote a Dutch article, my mother tongue, about mind fucking and mind playing for a Dutch informational website on BDSM. I also participated in an article about the male orgasm for that organization.
Yet I am still submerged in reading. A Dutch organization, EWA, promoting erotica and helping their members to excel in the genre, hold their annual Writer’s Marathon. For 2017 50% of the votes are for the public and 50% for a jury. That jury is composed of 5 members. Two of them are female and I am one of the three others. I consider it to be a huge honor to be asked.
I have started a few short stories, erotica and BDSM, but I am not sure if they are any good. Writing a blog in English is one thing, writing a story a whole different ballgame. So the only thing that holds me back is not knowing if I master the language enough.
It would be great if I could find somebody whom has some free time. To read the few pages I have written and to help me write the rest. Somebody who is willing to co-author.
Yes, that would be great.