If “bad” language offends you, stop now. Don’t read further. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you don’t like “those” words, then  click away.

I’m going to be blunt.

Words have power. Words have the power we give them. Frankly, INFLECTION gives words their power; saying “sugar” instead of  “shit” when you really want to say “shit” only  means you’re making “sugar” a curse word.  So why not just say shit, if that’s what you mean and want to say?

Or fuck, for that matter?

There are times and places when “bad” words aren’t appropriate. There are place and times when it’s not really appropriate to discuss surgery or illness or childbirth, too, and you can talk about all of those things with nary a naughty word to sully the conversation.

Using bad words doesn’t automatically mean you’re illiterate or unintelligent. (There are a fuckload of dumbass twats who never say a bad word.) Using bad words CAN mean you don’t have the vocabulary to adequately express yourself, but using bad language in inappropriate situations can also mean you’re simply incapable of understanding what’s appropriate or not. And there are plenty of fuckwads who can’t control themselves or behave with decorum and they never swear, either.

Words have the power we give them.

I write erotica and erotic fiction and erotic romance; I write about cocks and cunts not because I can’t find other words to use but because, at their base, cock and cunt are strong, appropriate and non-fussy words to describe body parts. Penis, cock, prick, dick, shaft, manhood. Cunt, pussy, vagina, honeyed slit. Elbow, knee, ear, chest, fingers, palm, thigh, sole.

A person can BE a prick or HAVE a prick. A person can HAVE a cunt or BE a cunt, and I’ll be blunt. I say person because being a prick or cunt is genderless in a way that HAVING a prick or cunt is not.

Words have the power we give them.

If you want to insult me, degrade or debase me,  you can call me a lot of things. You could call me a bitch or a cunt. Your inflection and your meaning and intent are what hurts — not the words. Because you could call me a fluffy bunnikins with enough venom and that would be as insulting and hurtful as anything else.

I like to use the word cunt in my writing. I prefer it over pussy. Does using cunt mean I’m degrading my characters, or that I’m illiterate or unintelligent or can’t figure out a different way to express myself? Should I used honeyed slit, instead, or dewey mound of womanhood? Should I call a man’s erection his love johnson rather than a cock or a prick?

In truth, I don’t think of my body in terms of cunt, tits or pussy. I don’t think of my elbows or feet or hands in language, either. They’re all me. Parts of me. Touch ME. I touch MYSELF. My body is a whole and rarely do I *think* specifics — they are me.

In writing, I have to be more specific. So even though I wouldn’t necessarily refer to the specific parts of my body, my characters do.

People don’t like the words cunt, or fuck, or shit, or cock. People don’t like the words damn or hell or pussy or tits or prick or ass. Me? I find there are words I find more offensive — words meant to denigrate a person’s color or sexual preference or religion –I find those words far more offensive than words describing a body part or an exclamation.

Words have the power we give them.

M

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Yes, please.

*waits*

*waits*

*waits some more*

*realizes Dean Winchester is a fictional character*

*is briefly despondant*

Haha…man, I love the search terms that bring people here. :)

If you’re here searching for sex with Dean Winchester, hey, I hope you get some. To the folks STILL looking for Megan Padalecki, I’m still not her. And if you came in search of Winchester erotica…I don’t have any. (Except in my head.)

But if you’re seeking author Megan Hart, Dirty by Megan Hart, how to read erotica in bed, you’ve come to the right place!

I wonder why nobody ever comes here looking for SAM WINCHESTER sex?

Hmmm….

Poor Sammy.

–M

PS — word I love: irascible

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Let me just say right up front: I didn’t really want to go on this trip. It was nice and all. A really nice hotel, nice reading time, etc. But we went, the kids had fun, I read. And read. And read. I read more than eight books in five days. I read the paper. I read the hotel information booklet. (More than once.) I read and read and read.

I could have written, but somehow sitting in the sun and ordering smoothies (for the kids) just didn’t work with the writing. I don’t need to have utter quiet, and I can work with interruptions, but I do need some comfort — shade. A place to sit that doesn’t hurt. That sort of thing. I did some writing, but not a lot. And hey, it was a vacation sort of thing. Just one that went on a little too long. Five days in a hotel room? Not my thing. But whatever.

Now I’m home and up to my eyes in laundry, promised to take the kids to the lake (where I will also sit in the sun on an uncomfortable chair and try to write.) I made a goal of ten pages a day on this book. It’s nearly noon and I’ve done nothing but supervise the shed delivery, clean the dishwasher, and do laundry. No writing. Oh, this entry, yes. Doesn’t count toward the goal.

In short, my vacation made me cranky.

But here are some highlights:

Yeah. Makes you want to dive right in, huh?

Good thing there was this:

And we crabbed using a homemade crab bait thing:

which was made from my leftover lunch:

And we went in the pool…

And saw the street I want to live on:

That man I live with claims I always cut off his face in pictures because I’m too short. HAHA! Yeah…that’s it. (Really, it’s because I don’t like to show my family in photos on the ‘net.)

In other news, the GIANT SHED was delivered today and makes me think of my favorite word today: HARROWING. Watching the shed being delivered was harrowing. Indeed!

Now I’m off to do more laundry, etc. and get packed up to go to the lake.

Thank god I’m home!

M

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So I’ve determined that if I did, indeed, live alone, I would never eat regularly, sleep on only one side of the bed (the other side being heaped high with laundry needing to be folded and put away) and stay up way too late. I would lead a minimalistic life free of clutter and garbage, though, because I’d throw everything away I wasn’t using, so I wouldn’t have to clean it.

I don’t live alone, but the past few days I’ve been more alone in my house than I’ve ever been, what with two of the four of us away at camp and the other one here with me out all day playing with a friend.

Last night we watched Just One of the Guys. Ohhhh, man. Made me want to cut my hair again.

I always wanted to be a guy. When I was younger a friend and I would play Tom Sawyer. I was ALWAYS Tom. She was always Becky. Younger than that, I made my mother call me Marine-Boy after a favorite cartoon character. (ahh, yes, I was an odd child.) Anyway, I’ve sometimes joked I’m a gay man trapped in a woman’s body. Because I love dudes, but man, sometimes I FEEL like I should be a dude. Oh, I’m girly and like makeup, sure, but sometimes the things women do just baffle me.

Then again, sometimes the things men do baffle me too.

I don’t really have a point other than I loved the movie as a teenager and I still loved it when I watched it last night.

“All balls itch! It’s a fact!”

hahahahahhahaahah!

Today? Cleaning and laundry and cleaning and packing (alas, not the fun kind that uses toys) and cleaning and cleaning. And I’ve been requested to “do something fun.” God only knows what that will mean. My head feels like someone’s trying to crack it like a walnut, I haven’t shaved my legs in a few days and my eyes continue to itch and burn.

And I haven’t done any writing.

BAD MEGAN. BAD, BAD MEGAN.

m

PS– Word that I love today: squitter

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I scored at the liberry, y’all. I gorged a bit. Came home with five books (only five?!) and two DVD’s. Never mind the bazillion books I have on my TBR pile (literally, a pile, by my bed. Well, three piles.) I got some Orson Scott Card, some Scott Westerfield, some Charlaine Harris…wheee ha!

I got the movie Somewhere Tomorrow which…OMG. I must’ve watched that movie two million times as a teenager. I can’t wait to watch it again, haha, and see exactly where I got the idea for Second Verse and Sand Castle (because I’m sure I’ll say OMG, so THAT’S where those ideas came from!!!!)

M

PS– Megan Supernatural search on Google brings me up first. Wheee! Who was looking for it? And why? Also, you folks searching on broken penis…man, oh man…get that looked at. Srsly.

And word I love today: lugubrious

HAHA!

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I’ll do my best to actually give you some.

If you want to be a writer, the most important thing, hands down, no doubt about it, is to write. Write and write and write and write. And then write some more.

You can’t possibly grow in your craft if you don’t practice.

Also, read. Pay attention to what you like (and do it) and what you think sucks (and avoid doing that.)

Will this make you a good writer?

No. No, my sweet, I’m sorry, but it’s not a guarantee.

You may never be a good writer. You may become a technically competant writer, or you may become an adequate writer, but you may never become a GREAT writer.

But you’ll never know unless you get off your butt and get to work.

M

PS — Word today that I love: abattoir >

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My favorite search string that brought someone here: hart porn — I done tole ya, I’m not that Megan Hart!

Also, my favorite word of the day is: SMITTEN

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