I’m currently working on a story – it’s really a collection of vignettes that fall under a common theme. I thought it would be simple and fun. Very light, undemanding reading for pleasure.
That’s not quite where this appears to be heading. Everything I’ve written so far contains statements and situations of social sensitivity. I seem to have stepped up on a soapbox somewhere along the way, and I can’t decide whether or not it’s appropriate.
For the most part, the things I have heading down the pike are quite saucy. And it’s basically my opinion that when someone picks up a saucy story, they’re not expecting to walk into the middle of a treatise on the ethics of circumcision. Okay, it’s not a treatise, but it very well may feel that way if a man (or woman) is expecting delectation and instead gets deliberation.
Typically, I let my writing take me where it will. It’s sometimes not what I’m expecting, but the freedom to wander usually leads me in the right direction. I decided early on to throw off expectations and let things go where they may; but this is, well, it’s surprising. And not altogether appropriate to my original goals, at least not for this particular piece.
Or is it? I’ve learned that phallus and philosophy aren’t necessarily strange bedfellows; that they fit together quite well, considering philosophy centers around contemplation of the most visceral states of being and quests of humankind, and sex is very high on the visceral scale. Way up there, preceding spirituality and universality. But there are titillating aspects of philosophy, and there are controversial and unsettling aspects in the politics of it all. I just. Don’t. Know.
I love challenges. I once wrote a story—most certainly never to see the light of day—based on a challenge put to me to write something that would be widely acceptable on a not so widely accepted subject, and I think I did pretty well. This is nowhere near that level. So, should I follow my fingers and accept this challenge put to myself?
As if I could resist.