Maybe you've guessed that Amanda Jilling is not my real name.
When I was in high school I began writing "dirty" stories for my friends. I don't even remember how it started. But I sure recall what a kick it was. It's actually almost embarrassing to think of how aroused I got as I created the situations that brought character after character to climax, and the things I did to relieve my "stress".
Those days are far away. My life, as others see it, is pretty sedate. My husband is a nice man and our kids are close to being grown. But inside I've been feeling restless. I've been becoming more and more aware of a part of myself that wants to break through the day to day facade and reveal myself entirely. Dance naked like Isadora Duncan.
Awhile ago I stumbled across some copies of those ancient stories and that old tingle returned. Although the writing was pretty bad, reading them made me want to tap into that earthy part of my imagination again. I began sitting down at the computer after my husband went to work and my kids left for school. For what seems like a very long time I banged out some pretty dumb stuff that my friends in high school probably would have loved. And, I'll admit, turned me on. But slowly I began to see possibilities beyond rubbing physicalities together.
I'm at a place now where I feel good about what I'm doing. In my less than totally exposed way I'm being Isadora Duncan.
I'm working on a novel in which women can explore their sexual fantasies safely, and freely, unencumbered by the limitations men (sorry hubby) too often impose without even knowing they do. I hope to have it out soon.
I have one story up on Amazon. Just do a search for Amanda Jilling. I was inspired by the whole "Rapture" scare.
I'm hoping to be able to supplement our income with my writing. I don't know about you but we've been hit hard by the current state of the economy. And my husband doesn't believe it's going to change anytime soon. I think it could but economics isn't my strong suit.
The stories I'm publishing here are stray ideas I have that I pursue between work sessions on the novel.
They arrive at an unorthodox, but workable, solution.
1When my best friend Eileen told me about her financial problems that day at the Senior Center I barely gave it a second thought before offering her a room. After all, Don, my late husband, had left me very comfortably fixed. I was the solitary dried up o...
