Image courtesy of Charisma at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
            At Halloween we have the opportunity to be someone else.  Or at least dress that way.  Much like a writer who gets to become a character and do something they’d never do in real life.  Dressing like a naughty nurse, she-devil or catwoman can be fun for a few hours.  Just like reading a book can take you away to a place where making love to two people at once can be a fantasy that you’d probably never play out in real life.

            Lets look at it from the Facebook realm.  You can give yourself any name and most people won’t know that your name is a combination of your favorite trashy novel heroes or the Queens of Henry the VIII or even a notorious slave owner.  You can live in Maine or New Zealand or Jacksonville, Florida even though you may live three doors down from me in the Twin Cities area.  Yes, I really do live in the Twin Cities.

            You can lie about your age, sex, marital status, employer and every post can be your character not you.  But at what point is Halloween over?  When do you hang up the stethoscope, strip down and throw on your sweats?  When do you stop playing pretend? 

            Much like your naughty nurse there is a part of you there.  Maybe it’s the red hair you got from your mother’s side of the family or maybe it’s the fact that deep down you’re a Vikings fan.  You’ll have to determine what part of you you’ll allow the world to see.

            I’m bad at lying, that doesn’t make me a better person than you, but it makes me a horrible actress and I find it hard to maintain my persona for more than a few hours.  Although I can have my characters fight on Facebook, my naughty writer persona has more of me than I expected.  I wanted Sammy to be the opposite of me, but I couldn’t.  Although Samantha Pleasant may be me without the censor button, there’s still a censor on her, because no matter what, Samantha is me.  She’ll never be a slut or a whore to anyone but her man.  She’ll write about lines I could never cross sexually, but deep down she has the soft gooey center that I always get made fun of for having.

            In my first erotica short story, Summer School, Stacy ends up in bed in between Len and Harrison only to discover their love of her.  WTF, right?  My next book is Fall Sports that turns a student pleasuring his professor for a good grade only to have love happen in the end.  Who knew that taboo sexual experiences could lead to love?  Me, I guess.  The real me, not the naughty nurse me.  The one who’s marriage was based on a taboo that was crossed.  What can I say deep down I was raised on 80’s Rom Coms and even when three guys end up in the same bed with a girl I like to believe that deep down they care for her and it wasn’t just Halloween.


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