F. P. Dorchak

Speculative Fiction Author

To Be Human

This Happens Sometimes

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It's OK. No It's Not. Yes, It Is. No. It's Not. (Image by By Tanya Little Flickr: 9 of 365 ~ Frustration [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia
It’s OK. No It’s Not. Yes, It Is. No. It’s Not. (Image by By Tanya Little Flickr: 9 of 365 ~ Frustration [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
As I’ve been [re]working on my short stories the past year, there was one I was really trying hard to make workable. Publishable. But…in the end…I just couldn’t make work. It was titled “A Taste of Eden,” and it was kinda nasty. In a part or two, actually, downright disgusting. But the rest of the somewhat disjointed story was kinda cool—had some time-shifting Titanic imagery in there…scary, horror scenes inside an abandoned building during a gnarly thunderstorm…self-mutilation…and a perverted bovine-headed-and-hoofed demon—I really wanted it to work…but…I just couldn’t. And I really didn’t like the “perverted” part. Seriously—I’d written that? Grossed me out. Ick.

(…daisies and kitties…daisies and kitties….)

Maybe in another 20 years.

So I sent it to the Not Used Folder.

I never totally trash/delete anything…no matter how bad.

Then there was another story—a partial of maybe 1,000 words—that I’d expanded into 5,000 words. But can’t publish it because of certain reasons…and having a lawyer review it…well, it’s not worth the cost…but beyond that, I have to be considerate for the people “involved.” You see, I’d written about events from real life…changed them up a little…but they would still be obvious to those these events had happened to.  And they might not take too kindly to me writing about them.

So, into the Not Used Folder that went. Hopefully, after we’re all dead, someone will find it and publish it. It’s a really powerful story. It keeps bringing me to tears every time I read the damned thing.

Wasted time. One could say I’ve wasted time on these efforts…but one could also say, no time and effort is ever, really wasted. It all counts toward growth…improved writing. And I believe this. I’ve written 10 100K novel manuscripts…each has taken 2-3 years of my life. Some longer. I’ve only published half of them. As to short stories, I still haven’t counted them all up, but I’m coming up on about 52 published ones, if I make it through to November 27th, when I published my first on this blog, “Tail Gunner.” Right now I have stories scheduled for release through October 28th. And I still have a couple left.

And then there was my little misfire yesterday.

Oh, for cryin’ out loud.

I’d been so damned careful for weeks on where I was placing that cursor of mine…then—after updating a bunch of my short story blog posts with the cleaner hyperlink to my Short Stories page—it happened: “premature publishing.”

I spazzed out and mistakenly hit Publish instead of Save Draft. Classic rookie mistake.

(Yeah, there’s a double entendre in all this. And, by the way, I’m not writing this post in response to yesterday’s mishap—I’d actually started writing it two days ago.)

So, I sent out another “post” announcing my error, then promptly went looking for all copies on social media and deleting them (though the e-mailed versions still exist…). I think I was successful. But, yeah, it took some of the wind out of my sails, dammit….

I’ve had all this “weird energy” lately…different issues I’m not going to get into…but a “minor maelstrom of transitional energy,” I’m calling it. Aggravating old injuries, new issues kicking my ass, “interpersonal issues,” tons of work on short stories not going anywhere. We all go through these periods of time. And then there’s the weather…still acting like it’s winter in May. This is Colorado, not….

But you know…it’s all okay…it is.

This happens sometimes.

Short Story Links

Links to all my posted short stories are here.

Righting Erotica

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This Novel's Got Legs---And, Well, A Few Other Things.... (By Jean-Christophe Destailleur [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
This Novel’s Got Legs—And, Well, A Few Other Things…. (By Jean-Christophe Destailleur [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
As I work on the my current work-in-progress (WIP)—the sex scenes—I realized that once I got past what I was actually writing (graphic as they are), that they were all “words.” And as such, I was (am) trying to put the best words forward. I am trying to make the best scenes possible—as I do with any of my work.

Words are words.

Yeah, some of this stuff is unnerving…but that’s what I want them to be.

Unsettling.

I want you all unsettled by what you read.

I want a little squirming going on.

That is what these scenes are about…on a “mechanical” level. They’re about “in-the-dark” behavior from everyday people. About behavior we might only think about…or do in the dark corners of our lives.

Admittedly, it’s one thing to think about some of this stuff, and (for some) an entirely different matter once written.

After all, writing something gives it permanence, right? Like voicing a thought?

Thoughts are hidden, our own. But once we voice them…write them out…its like they take on a whole new meaning. The phrase “Think before you speak,” comes to mind. And how we look at someone differently once they’ve spoken…the unspeakable….

Actions we only do in private are known only to ourselves…unless voiced or written. This is the kind of ground I’m treading.

I don’t read erotica, so I don’t know what’s acceptable, so maybe I’m really off base, here, with my thoughts. And those who do read erotica may think nothing of what I’ve done.  I’m sure my efforts are most likely quite tame in today’s erotica world…and that’s okay (though I consider what I’ve written not-so-tame at all to me….). Once I got into the writing of this novel, I liked that the erotica became what I thought of as “a different kind of erotica.” Granted, when I’d first written this novel, back in 1997, erotica most likely wasn’t what it is today…but I’d still like to think my work will hold up to itself (um, yeah, there is a pun here, you just don’t know about it, yet…) in today’s world.

I “just” want to be able to portray what my characters are going through in such a way that it…justifies the story…evokes powerful emotion…that you see a part of yourselves in them. That you squirm a little at what you’re reading…insidiously become one with the story…the scenes…the characters.

Okay, even the sex.

So, to that end, once I get past what it is I’m actually writing…I’m trying to write the scenes as best as possible. Use the best words. Invoke the best, most powerful imagery. To make each scene properly fit the story. The plot. The characters—

I’m trying to make the erotica right.

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