Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Reassurance

It occurred to me that I should pop in here and reassure you all that I am still alive... Which I am. However, I am being worked very hard, with an eye towards maximizing and structuring my creative output. I have to construct a schedule for when I will write (obviously I may spend more time than what I allocate), set goals for what I will write, prepare a damn outline (!), and set milestones of progress along the way.

Some of you may suspect that this is not at all the way I normally operate.
About anything.

I do not deny that this sort of imposed discipline is good for me and will, once I get used to this way of working, make for increased production and better quality. It does not deny me the option of flashes of inspiration, but it requires that I apply myself beyond that.

It scares the hell out of me.
I worry that I can't live up to his expectations.
But I don't really think I have a choice.
I have to try it.
I have to do it.

You may also suspect that the imposition of this structure on me is horribly arousing.
Painfully arousing.
I feel as if I am being caned.

Not so much for punishment, but for correction, for direction, for making it painfully clear that he is quite serious and will not tolerate any shirking on my part.

I can envision him coming by daily, dragging me down to the dungeon bedroom, ordering me to strip and take the position up on the bed which offers my ass for a beating.

And then beat me he would.
Not for long.
A few firm strokes of the cane.
Perhaps 4 on each cheek.
Reminders, reapplied each day, that I must take him seriously.

He owns me.
I am his poet whore.

And just as I am required to suck his cock with all the skill and concentration and devotion that I can muster, so am I required to produce poems and stories with all the talent and intelligence he claims is there.

And thus I will.

5 comments:

worm said...

I think if I had all that caning, cock sucking, and a new writing discipline to focus on, I would find myself speechless- or wordless, as the case may be. Of course, I hope you are not like me!!!

GOOD LUCK

TFP said...

"He owns me.
I am his poet whore."


I like these two powerful lines.

nancy said...

I would be made nervous as well.. schedules, much less outlines! are so hard for me.. yet I long to be held accountable.
I have a feeling the words will come with no problem~ and I'm looking forward to all of them!

Paul said...

OG, I wonder if the other great female poets had demon muse.
If your Demon Muse continues the way he is going you may well find yourself among their number.
If he doesn't wear you out first.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.

oatmeal girl said...

Oh, worm, being wordless is not an option. He always gets what he wants, the way he wants it, and my disorganized soul craves the control.

I've needed it all my life.

TFP - I like the powerful reality.

nancy - I am not not allowed to utter another word of complaint or fear or doubt about the process. Period. I must only produce. Produce the schedule and then produce the words. And they had better be good.

Oh, Paul, you are deliciously both sweet and funny. I needed that!

Thanks to you all for the support.