So here I am.  Mother of two.  Confirmed gutter brain. Closet vampire/paranormal romance and adult romance reader and writer. I’ve written this stuff! It’s been read. To a small select and relatively safe audience for sure, but this is not an unknown element to me. And a vital ingredient in the genre we’ve chosen to venture into as published authors….and yet.

Even though I can see the words, hear the voices, feel the emotions and have even written long hand I find myself balking at the S.E.X. scene(s) that MUST be written.  Do I doubt my ability? Not really.  I do not believe this is my forte, but I hold my own in the literary bedroom.  It’s the wider audience I fear.  Readers beyond the veil of internet friends and associations. GULP!  Sisters-in-law. Teachers. My mother and children!

I’m not a prude.  More than once my candid and frank discussion of sex with my kids has startled them to say the least.  I am guilty of mocking those women who feign modesty or ignorance of how all this works.  But, here I sit and can’t help thinking, “they will know what’s in my head.”

There’s a frightening thought, without naked people writhing in passion.  Perhaps it’s the connection with this particular story? The birthing process has been a long one and I do feel more closely connected to them than in any other or the new stories churning in the steel trap.

Creativity in any outlet is an exercise in facing fears.  Artists revealing the finished painting.  Singing in front of a new audience.  Taking the stage opening night.  Handing over a first draft to editors or collaborators.  There is the internal struggle between needing to express, desiring both approval and to bring pleasure.  And the fear of rejection, failure or sometimes worse, being noticed at all.

I suppose like anything, the fear is worse than the reality.  When sharing a new dish for the first time, I can hardly wait for family and friends to taste the latest from my kitchen.  But the kitchen is where I am quite confident, sometimes bordering on arrogant.  Fearlessness has been practiced.  Time to close my eyes….typing can’t be any worse that’s for sure…and jump.  Because honestly Himself refuses to allow me to see what happens next until the top is off the cookie jar.  And I’m blessed to have a safely net.  If it’s crap, S.A. Young and C.C. Cedras will hand it back for a do over.

Do you fear showing your work? Does the idea of a new audience excite or paralyze your creativity? What makes you jump?