I've had a nagging feeling of guilt for ages about not updating this but now, I've finally got round to writing something rather than feeling guilty. It's an infinitely better way to spend time. So, what are the latest excuses for my tardiness? Well, I've been doing lots of work: always a good thing.
After the naturist holiday for work (which was utter hell - full of 50-something amateur photographer guys one of whom confessed he was only a naturist because he 'likes looking at naked women', with a tour rep who wore a 'FBI: Female Body Inspector' T-shirt and when he heard I lived in Brighton said, "Oh, I went there once - backs against the wall. You can't drink in the pubs there - who knows where the other punters' mouths have been," and other such well-informed idiot comments. And the bar was only open for about 4 hours every other day) I came back and wrote the erotic novel in 24 days. It was fairly flat out but I was happy with the end result - as were the editors, I think, given the minimal tweaks they made to it. You can buy it here (my original title was 'Vanilla'. It was changed. That's all I'll say on the matter).
The Ex Factor came out, with the usual run of publicity including extracts in The Express and The Sun online, good reviews in Closer, Reveal and The London Paper and (apparently) a mention on Loose Women, along with a book signing at Notting Hill Waterstones. During the signing, I also did a reading from Vanilla, which would have been fine had I not inadvertently said the word 'mother' instead of 'pussy' when I got to the rude bit, which was rather embarrassing to say the least, and showed how nervous I was about reading smut I'd written in front of my mum. She was as embarrassed as I was. Sorry mum.
The Emily-at-Large features have been as wild as ever, and continuing with the naked(ish) theme, with the most recent being appearing on Babestation - a TV station in which scantily clad women talk filth to people calling in. I did the 9-10pm slot, which is strictly kit on (albeit skimpy kit) and had a top giggle, though I had both more respect for the babes (there are a gazillion rules and regs to remember) and less respect for the callers (most of whom want a blow job - where's the imagination?) by the end of my shift. Still, they offered me a job at the end of it, which was nice - albeit an offer I declined 'cos I'd be rubbish at gyrating on a bed showing my bits for the post-9pm stage of the show (not to mention unwilling). I had a cocktail party with naked butlers for another feature, am going to be in the Texas Chainsaw Travelling Horror Picture Show (in a bit part for one night only) for a future feature and am liaising with vampires about spending a night getting all vampiric. Just the normal run of work really...
Life-wise, there's been the obligatory summer heartbreak (thank god for lovely friends reassuring me he was an immature twat who didn't deserve me) lots of parties and otherwise random evenings, and a very annoying mad woman stealing my mobile phone from my house then texting my friend who'd tried calling the phone saying I could have my phone back if I sent her naked pics of myself. All terribly creepy and led to massive inconvenience for the sake of a four year old pay as you go phone with about £35 credit on it. I blathered to a mate about it and she told me she'd just had her bank account emptied by someone cloning her card and spending a fortune in Poland - the bank hadn't noticed that money was been spent simultaneously in Poland and London. Crime sucks: we both felt dead vulnerable after our experiences even though they were comparatively minor.
Other than that, it's the usual run of sex toy testing, feature writing (got my first piece in First magazine this week, and have done various features for New Woman, including hosting a naked cocktail party which was amusing, particularly when a friend knocked a champagne glass over with his cock, along with all the Scarlet regulars) And I've got a few meetings about a few future books this week, which is cool 'cos I'm beginning to feel lazy for not writing a book at the moment. On which note, I should probably go to bed.
Yeah, OK, I know it's been ages since I posted yet again. I can't help it. I've been naked.
OK, that's slightly flippant but since my last post I've:
a) Turned 33
b) Done a striptease on stage at the Clapham Grand in front of 500-1,000 people (not sure how many exactly - all I know is that it's bloody big and was pretty full) It was *fucking petrifying*. It was also the best adrenaline high ever. I remembered my routine (a striptease for my vibrator to the song 'At Last' by Phoebe Snow - or rather, her cover of the Etta James song that has the opening line 'At last my true love has come along.' The second I heard it, I knew I had to have it for my strip) I got whoops and cheers and someone even asked for me to autograph a copy of Scarlet for them. But fun as it was, I can safely say 'never again'. Nothing could top the experiene I had so it seems daft to even try.
c) Done a photoshoot for GirlsKissing.co.uk It was also hugely fun. How hard can it be kissing a pretty girl while wearing a slinky silk dress? (and later in the shoot, kissing her in the bath with bubbles obscuring our bits and both of us being careful not to inadvertently grope each other)
d) Booked a naturist holiday
As such, I am now beginning to think of 33 as 'The Year of Being Naked'. Hell, it's got to be better than 'The Year of Realising That Your Grey Hairs Are Getting Copious Enough For You to Actually Pay Attention When That Annoying Davina McCall 'Mum, I've found a great hair dye' Advert Is On'. And certainly snappier. Hell, it could even be a book title...
Obviously (or maybe not) all the above are for work. Except the getting older bit. That just happened all on its own. Predictably enough, I spent a week getting drunk with friends for my birthday - it was meant to be a day but things kind of spiralled to involve rainy beaches, burlesque nights and meals out. Hell, I've never had a birthday that lasted a week before. It felt good.Once I'd recovered, I had to get back to work though: namely finishing The Ex Factor and my guide to lesbian sex for 'straight' women - both of which I'm incredibly relieved to have now done. I typed the last words of the lesbian book about an hour ago and felt incredibly relieved. It was fun to write but books are such long slogs that sometimes it can feel like you're never going to get them finished. Although when I get back from holiday I won't have a chance to indulge that kind of thought as I have a month to write an erotic fiction novella (40,000 words) from scratch. If the holiday wasn't for work, I'd probably cancel it to give myself more time - so it's lucky that it is, really, as I so need a holiday.
On which note, I should get round to packing. What should you pack for a naturist holiday? Shoes and jewelry, I guess...
