Why not fairytales, said my mom...

The thing is, I had been reading erotica for a years and came up with precious little that I *really* liked. Everything seemed to be either too graphic, or too plotty, or the charachters were too flat/unlikable/boring... there was some nice stuff, mind, but not enough.

The trouble is, I have a hard time with most heros. This is not a reflection on my writers colleagues, but on my own snotty tastes. It also had an influence on my marriage chances.

I am not particularly attracted by succesful CEOs in designer suits, to begin with. I tend to spill cocktails at party, that's the clown in me, I don't do it on purpose, I tumble nat'rally. That doesn't go down well with the well dressed sort. I like vampires, I still have posters of Lestat in my metaphorical lair, but there are just too many vampires around these days. They used to be rare mysterious people you had to hunt down for a hundred years, nowadays you can hardly set foot in a LIDL without finding the triple-vampire-offer-pack at 5.99 euro. You CAN get too much of a good thing, after all. Shape-shifters are all very good but I could like a hero that stays the same shape long enough to paint a portrait of him (I have this thing for painting, what can I say). Plus I have enough pets already shedding fur. And you never know what in the name of love they will shift to these days. Possum shifters have already been mentioned and will soon be released for real, I bet. Cowboys are a step in the right direction, but there is just so much cow smell I can tolerate on a man. Horse smell is all right, but I draw the line at cows. Honestly. And Anais Nin had too much plot. Heck if I want plot I'll read Dickens, better prose too. And Anne Rice had too much spanking. And, and, and...

So the voice in my head said: you are so freaking difficult, my lady, that you will go to the grave before you find any erotica to your taste.

I said, no it's not true. There is stuff I like out there, just not enough.

And the voice said: well, then, get your arse off the floor and write your own. Can't hear you whining about this any longer.

That's when you appreciate having a voice nattering at you in your head. Sometimes it comes up with a good notion. So I went, and wrote my own.