Friday, January 22, 2010

Oh no! How do I get this genie back in the bottle?

Today's entry is a follow up to my earlier post about disclosing about writing erotic romance . If you read my comments from that, you may guess certain family members visited today.

And the plot now thickens.

After my entry was read by some of my family, my mother put my Stepdad on the phone to explain it was not that he couldn't finish it, it was he didn't finish it.

I had assurances he would reading it today and this brought up a bunch of other issues.

I tried to explain he did not have to, and failed. Can I articulate here why? I am going to try.
Sex invokes a lot of pun intended:) We all have attitudes and mores about it. In families and in life, we also have boundaries around this and many other things.

I fully understood if he was unable to read it. In fact, I had suggested he not read it, and read other writing I had. I was, though, upset if he had started reading it, and had to put it down because it made him uncomfortable. That was my concern, and the fear I and probably other writers may have when deciding who to tell.

I would be both boorish and bullying if I demanded people read my work, knowing it was beyond their interest or comfort level. The concept of "supporting me" doesn't give me a carte blanche to do this.

I remember a friend from years ago who started dancing. Yes, the pole kind. She wanted to have friends in the audience for support. I felt very awkward to be there but didn't want to deny her request. It is still hard to define why I felt the way I did. I know it's just a body. I guess I felt she was a friend, and there was a line I shouldn't cross. I felt I was witnessing something I shouldn't. I did sit in the audience as she asked, but my eyes were somewhere else. I think that while these situations are pretty different, the same principle is there.

We all have boundaries and comfort zones, and we have to respect them. And respect others.

My last post was really more about my own comfort level, and deciding what to share. Worrying about it, sometimes needlessly.

It's kind of too late to get the genie back in the bottle about this whole situation. I am glad we cleared up any misunderstanding, but it was never important that he read my work, this particular genre anyway. I know whether my Stepdad reads it or not, how he feels about me. And that includes the other friends or family I don't tell.

I just hope he understands how I feel about him. I love him.

I guess I just needed to know he was in the audience.

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