I think about quitting.

Writing.  This.  You all.

I feel like I have nothing to share, nothing to say that’s worthwhile or interesting.  My life as Hy is one gigantic flaccid penis: I came months ago in resplendent spurts and opalescent arcs and now I’m flat, dry and flaky.

I’m over.

I don’t have anything current to say, no interesting story, no new perspective.  I’m still proudly flaunting my middle-aged tits, I still occasionally have interesting sex stories to tell, sometimes I have an opinion on things, but generally speaking, I don’t have anything new to say.  Not really.

I’ve made incredible friends, done incredible things, but this isn’t my job.  I have a separate career that I have to keep safe; I can’t even tell you all what it is, though I long to.  God, how I wish you all knew what I did.  I wish I could marry the two sides of me – finally – and flourish in all the Hy/Me glory I imagine is waiting for me.

I am at a crossroads which feels less like a point in which I choose right or left and more like a place in which I choose to continue or not.  I’m not sure I want to keep going.

But when I think about my life without Hy I gasp.  Literally and figuratively.  I’m not at all sure how that would work: I don’t know who I am.  Am I Hy, the body- and sex-positive writer, and advocate, The Sharer of All?  Or am I Me, the professional ________ who ______ and _______ and _________s?

My blogging friend, Livvy, wrote recently about the divisions she experiences in her professional and personal lives and I related strongly, viscerally even.

“It was while I was standing there, squeezing this stranger’s penis, that I began thinking about quite how narrow the dividing line between what is sexual and what isn’t can be, and how blurring that line can be complicated and potentially dangerous.”

I don’t squeeze penises in my professional life, but I “squeeze” other things, and I’m so tired of keeping my lives at odds.  I feel that this life as Hy in particular could benefit greatly from my other life; its openness, its specific familiarity with my heart and trials.

It’s the fear of Hy’s impact on my professional life that keeps me from even breathing a whisper of the real me to you all.  I’d like to think you’d embrace her — I’m actually certain you would — but I don’t trust a single one of my career colleagues to protect Hy.  Why would they??

I spent a portion of tonight with The Artist, just as friends.  I laughed so hard I cried because he likes to send me fucked up videos of him in masks set to flutes and REM.  I like being friends with him.  On his plant-infested balcony I talked endlessly of Luke and how I’m head over heels for him, a man I can never have.  I got to be all of my self in a pseudo-anonymous way while sitting on that third story balcony and I liked it.  A lot.

Maybe that’s what I need here.  Maybe I need a pseudo-anonymity that helps me marry the two sides of me better.  I don’t have much going on in terms of unrequited love (Luke is returning all my feelings in truckloads) and I’m not fucking much.  I feel boring and shriveled up.

I have an entire other life I’m trying to maintain and grow.  This isn’t my life.  It’s who I am, but it’s different somehow.  It’s just a facet.

I owe Girl on the Net a guest post — a year in the making at this point — and I can’t bring myself to create it.  It literally haunts me.  God only knows how others who’ve been blogging for as long as me do it.  I’m losing my will to write, to create.  It all feels false and odd and off.  I’ve been struggling to find a balance and I’ve achieved a place of non-guilt, but I truly don’t know what to do next here.  The apathy I’m experiencing is intense and sticky, pervasive.  I feel mired down, like when that beautiful stallion drowns in the swamp in Neverending Story.

I have jizzed all over my blogging life in big, pearly globs I am satisfied, scared, tired, lost — and above all else — bored.

When I wrote before about new goals and new summits I felt somewhat energetic.  Today, I feel depleted.  All I want to do is curl up in Luke’s arms and purr my happiness into his delicious skin.  Close my eyes and feel him press his heat against me, hear his voice, feel his lips, consume his very essence.

If I take a break will I have anything to return to?  My five-year anniversary is creeping up as quickly as my numbers of visitors are dropping.  You guys are sick of me, too, apparently, and I don’t fucking blame you.   I am no longer viable, no longer interesting.  Nothing is happening!  Do I care??  Does it matter??  Why do I write?  Who am I writing for?  I don’t even know anymore.  So many questions…

I am lost, yet calm.  I’ll be ok, you’ll be ok.  I’ll figure this out one way or another.

Suggestions welcome as always.

 

e[lust] 86

Elust 86 Header
Photo courtesy of Modesty Ablaze

Welcome to Elust 86

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #86 Start with the rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

On Self-Objectification

Female Orgasms – Addressing Women’s Sexuality

Migraine – A Sexual Spiritual Explanation

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Can You Train a Sub to Orgasm on Command?

Rupert Campbell-Black and me…

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Yes I’m a Sexblogger and No I don’t care about your dick

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

BUTTER FOR LUBE… Salted or Unsalted?
KOTW:Static on the line
Control Queen
Well, That Didn’t Go According to Plan

Writing about Writing

A BDSM Vignette from Two Viewpoints

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sex Negative

Erotic Fiction

The Cure
sports

Erotic Non-Fiction

CORPORAL PUNISHMENT – with a twist
Iris
A Polyquad Squad Orgasm
Beautiful Birthday Fuck
Purpose of Tasks
Do You Trust Me
The meanings of “good girl”

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

How Long Is Enough
The Virgin. Unlocking Feminine Power.
The Other Day
Communicate! Communicate! Communicate!
addressing doubts one step at a time
How D/s has taught me to stick up for myself

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Against All Odds

Poetry

Where I’m From

 

 

ELust Site Badge

I don’t feel like writing.

It scares me, this lack of enthusiasm for the blog.  

I just wrote about making new goals and striving to achieve them and instead of inciting me to action I feel pushed away.

I think I’ve indentified part of it: it’s less fun for me, more stressful.  My standards for what I put here are extremely high and it takes me up to 5 hours to write a thoughtful, moving piece when it used to take me an hour or two.

I could blame life changes for that, but I don’t think that’s it; I’m more easily distracted and I don’t feel as welcome in my own space.  

I’ve gone and fucked this up somehow.

To combat this, I’ve decided that I will write more, not less.  Lower my standards for a post and fucking play here again. 

Play with my words, my body, you.

 I used to post lots of nothing — lots — and it felt like a playground, like swinging high above the treetops, spinning faster than a top.  I could do anything I wanted, have any voice, share my thoughts and ideas without worry that there was a hole in my argument.  

I want that back.

So, to kick that off here’s a random nude pic of me.  Raw, real, and [barely] exposed.  Just like I used to be, just like I want to be: playful and seductive, playful and here.

I don’t know what to do next.

I began writing because I had to.  Words crawled against the underside of my skin like so many marching ants, less like blood flowing and more like an itch that had to be scratched.  And so I did.

I began an anonymous sex blog on Blogger and wrote about the intersection of motherhood and being single, but I quickly realized I didn’t want to talk about my child in that iniquitous arena.  I morphed it into what I really wanted to talk about — my sex life — and wrote with an openness as wide as my legs.  Too wide, as it turned out, because I naively shared the URL with lovers and friends and soon felt the pinch of the gag in my mouth.  Semi-anonymous is not fun, y’all.

I decided to shut it down and regroup, but not before I somehow I caught Rori’s eye way back in 2011.  And thus began my journey to not only continue to write but to improve upon it.  I wanted to create content that was beautiful, yet compelling, thought-provoking yet welcoming and above all else entertaining and A Dissolute Life Means… was born.

Earning the top spot on the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2015 list is what one might consider the pinnacle of my blogging “career.”  It’s what I ached to reach and worked so hard to achieve.  Its subjectivity humbles me, but the position also creates a welcome pressure to prove to everyone that I indeed earned that top slot.  I don’t want anyone to wonder, “Why the fuck did Hy get #1?”  At the very worst, I’d at least want someone to think that I’d worked hard to get there and at the best think it was well-deserved.

But with attaining a goal comes a strange dark side of achievement, the side of the mountain I couldn’t see as I was climbing the other: Now what??

Looking at the seven past #1s I find a variety of things ranging from a continued vibrant internet and writing presence to none at all.  One #1 disappeared shortly after her nomination under a dark cloud of allegations of illegal activity and another #1, Pandora, seems to have disappeared for nearly two years.  The other five #1s (Sinclair Sexsmith, Dangerous Lilly, Guy New York, Molly Moore, and Girl on the Net have all done exactly what I hope to do: grow.

They grew as writers, artists, and activists; they kept going, wrote books, gave talks, plugged in to the community of which they’re such a big part.  Some have even taken over Eroticon such is their dedication to all of us.

There’s a silence here in my life right now; I’m catching my breath.  Maybe I haven’t actually summitted anything.  Maybe I’m only half way there. 

This year has been a strange mix of unbelievable highs (Eroticon and London) and radical lows (health, finances, shitty anniversaries, continued heartbreak) and I have been bereft of my normally easily tappable imagination.  It’s not that writing feels like a chore, it’s just that I can’t seem to carve out the sacred space to allow it to happen.

And I have no shortage of stories to tell: Charlie the “Italian” waiter in Bristol, Poppy, Peter, George with the man bun, the many sub males with whom I am exploring my dominant side.  The men flow like the wine in my life – fast and continuous – but my creative juices not so much.

When I think about where else I want to go here a few things leap out at me: I want to convert this blog into a book, I want travel to London to attend and/or present at Eroticon 2017, 2018 and beyond if at all humanly possible, I want to keep advocating for body positivity and feminist sexual freedom.  And most of all, I want to keep writing.

I want to fill the world with my silly words that connect me to all of you.  I want to make art with these little black squiggly things pretty much for-fucking-ever since I can’t fathom my life without them – that’d be like eating food that tasted like nothing but chalk — but there’s a vacuum that my small success has created and I feel adrift.

I need to look more closely at my surroundings; there’s so much more beauty left to ascend and consume.

In lieu of a creative emotional space I have fallen still on my mountainside.  My exhausting summer of mind, body, and spirit must come to an end; fall, my most favorite, is oh so close.   Things will change because they must, but they’re going to change in the direction of my choosing.  I will regroup and refocus, double-down on my efforts because I’m not done.  Not even close.

I now know what is next for me: More — more art, more community, more Hy — and I will look at my achievements as flags staked along the way, not as stopping points, because I have higher to climb.  Hopefully, a lot higher.

 

e[lust] #84

Elust 84 header
Photo courtesy of A to sub-Bee

Welcome to Elust #84

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #85 Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Lightweight
About Those “Apple Thighs”
Why the Hell Haven’t I Rebelled Yet?

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

IDENTITY – hiding the evidence
friday flash–service

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Good In Bed

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Erotic Fiction

Ride
Pubic Disturbance
Colds and Lust
Sex Machine
Chemistry
A Dirty Bathroom Floor
Tether
I’m Sorry I’m So Silent
S’il Vous Plaît
Edge of Morning
Dancin’ (Most) of the Night Away
Airport Arrivals

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

42 Kinds of Casual Sex
Living in Fear – An Essay on Male Entitlement
Pride

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

How To Give A Bare Handed Spanking
Reconciling dominance and love
She’s a Very Kinky Gor

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Run the good race
IUD DIARY #1 (1.5 WEEKS LATER)

Erotic Non-Fiction

We Made A Resolution To Make Love Everyday
The 20 Minute Orgasm
More on cunt, corridors & Schroedinger’s cock
Stoned Birthday Sex
Room with a View
I’m Not Done With Your Throat Yet
It’s a strange path to trust.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Poly and Pets
mono-poly

Writing about Writing

Why Write Erotic Fiction?
ELust Site Badge

Friday, July 1st, is Boobday! (With a surprise announcement!)

hy_tits_bannerLots of lovely boobs this week!

Thank you, as always, for lending me the images of your bodies and showing thousands of people that sexy and confident isn’t only what we see in a Victoria’s Secret catalog.

We’re far more diverse than just those lovely young women.

Ok, now for the big news!!

There were rumblings of something during this year’s Eroticon, but no one knew for sure what.  Well, it’s official!

EROTICON 2017 LONDON IS BACK!

The incredible, stupendous, fantastic trio of Molly Moore, @DomSigns, and Girl on the Net will be carrying the torch for the lovely and brilliant Ruby Kiddell!!  (You can also read all about them here.)

I knew by the end of my stay that I would have to find a way to make it back through fundraising and/or sponsorship.  There is absolutely no way I’m missing out on another one.  It’s too important to my writing, to my being, to my sense of community.

I encourage all of you fellow bloggers and writers to find a way to make it over there.  You won’t regret it.

LipsEroticon2tIWish LipsEroticon2trans250Attending LipsEroticon2HelpMeCurrently, I’m all three of these buttons, but grab yours and let’s get started!

Ok, I’ve been procrastinating enough today.  Time to get down to business and get these titties out to the world!

Love y’all!

xx

Hy

Full Boobday Guidelines here.

One of two ways to participate: 1) either submit a pic to me via email (hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com) OR 2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.  And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts!  This is all about spreading the love!

My tits:

Three friends might taste this cotton candy this weekend.
Three friends might taste this cotton candy this weekend.

NOT my tits:

Miss Shy's first, delicious submission.
Miss Shy’s first, delicious submission.

I’m very shy so this is very hard for me to do and because my breasts are so large-I’m very self conscious. I chose this pic because it was right after a cool shower and some coconut oil makes them appear somewhat exotic.

::

I love the open shirt on Kim.
I love the open shirt on Kim.

Such a versitile item, the denim jacket…..clothed or topless!!

::

I haven't figured out if she's anonymous or not, but she has submitted at least once before. I love so much about this pic. The white, the pale, the dark. Stunning.
I haven’t figured out if she’s anonymous or not, but she has submitted at least once before. I love so much about this pic. The white, the pale, the dark. Stunning.

Happy weekend ;)

::

Miss Green lets the light hit her in all the right places.
Miss Green lets the light hit her in all the right places.

Ms Green catching rays in the kitchen washing dishes.

Click below to see more!

e[lust] #83

 

Elust 83 Header Holden and Camille
Photo courtesy of Holden and Camille

Welcome to Elust #83

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #84 Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

London Crows and London Kisses

I am Her. She is Me.

You Say You Want to Cook for Me

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Unusual Liaison

Community. Respect. Friendship. Fucking.

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Dirty Little Secrets

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Poetry

You Know
O

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Bed
Secular Submission
My therapy
from “hard limit” to “want”
We Measure the Nostalgia
The Cure and The Cause

Events

Smut in the 6ix – Porn Conference & Gala

Erotic Fiction

Typing Errors
La Belle Dame
Sex and chocolate
The Imprisoned of HIM-HER-THEM
The Gift
audience
Becca’s Story
Rope and Fixtures
As salty as his cum…
Dominating the Doctor

Erotic Non-Fiction

Teen Sex in Woolly Tights with 60s Beat Music
Dear Sadist: Your Cruelty Is Your Love
A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl
Owned, Leashed, & Beaten
Jan 2015 Owned & Collared by Mistress Claire
Rinse The Days Filth Away
Power On
Keeping tally

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Formative Kink Epic Fail: “Buck Rogers”

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

If it was easy anyone could do it
What’s a service submissive?
Prescient Words

Writing About Writing

What if aspirational meant something else?

 

ELust Site Badge

It’s hard to leave your people: EroticonLive 2016

I’ve gone to ground since returning from London two weeks ago.  I’ve been unable to write, to think, to move.

Somewhere over the Atlantic — mid sobs — my lymph nodes swelled and my head cracked open.  For days after my skull blistered as I went through the motions of mothering and work.  By the following Monday the headache was gone, but so were my words.

I wrote in Heathrow and at 38,000 feet.  It took everything out of me.  I cried because of the beauty of the experience, but also because of the irony of my choice: a young man thousands of miles away.  Ben was safe to practice being all of me, Hy and the other woman.  He won’t want to be in my life full-time or even part-time.  He won’t demand I open up more than I want to.  Basically, he won’t need more of me and that feels fucking great right now as I navigate my way through zipping the two sides together.

It was a revelation to be more of me with one single person than I usually am with all of my closest of friends and those magical 36 hours never could never have happened were it not for the incredible previous 4 days at Eroticon.

I landed in the middle of the tarmac at Heathrow and we had to load onto a bus and drive for 15 minutes to even reach the terminal.  It was 3 am my time and I clung tiredly to my backpack and tried desperately to look like I knew what I was doing.  In a fog I shuffled through customs and angled for wi-fi to contact Michael and Molly, my fairy godparents for the trip, and let them know of my whereabouts.

“I’m here!  Gotta run to the bathroom and grab my my luggage then I’ll be right out!” I texted.

“Ok.  Just look for the short, fat man with a small penis,” was Michael’s response.

I knew at that moment the weekend would be remembered in the grooves of my marrow.

To be called “Hy” by everyone who saw me, to be hugged, to have casual discussions about sexual pleasure, agency and consent, to be in a massive conference hall with dozens of strangers and realize many of them had seen my tits, to know that each night couples frantically coupled high off the day’s activities, to drink and laugh and cry, to speak passionately about writing and sex.  All of this meant that I was a part of this small, yet vibrant and committed community and I felt like I was home.  Real fucking HOME.

There are many people who made my days in Bristol magical and who need to know their impact on me.  Of course my fear is I will forget some since it’s been so long now, but if I do, just email me and I’ll fix it.  My memory is utter shit, which is why I typically write about sexual encounters the day of or following day.

I called them my fairy godparents, but Michael (@DomSigns) and Molly are so much more than that.  At the train station Monday afternoon I had to fight tears as I hugged them for our 3rd goodbye in 24 hours (I had a couple of false starts). I didn’t want to leave them.

Not only did they drive me around western England, but they also took me under their wings and made sure I was fed, knew where I was going, how to get home safely from the “Italian” waiter’s house (he turned out to be Brazilian, for what it’s worth).  They answered my endless questions about the universe in general and never made me feel like a burden.  On the contrary, I felt like part of their little kinky family, their little sister.

Molly was a co-panelist on Ask a Sex Blogger and she conducted a brilliant session on photography and how not to take shit photos.  Michael did tech-y sessions and hauled out their BDSM arsenal for the last session on Saturday where he’d intermittently scare the shit out of all of us cracking his purple whip.  (I’m pretty sure the lovely Honey made that whip for them.)

They even set me up with the most incredible roommate known to man, Girl on the Net.  She wrote she could write an entire essay on me, well, the feeling is entirely mutual.  She’s vibrant and hilarious with a mile-a-minute intellect.  She’s sensitive, but tough and seems to be a shrewd business woman beyond what she’s alluded to in her writings.  She taught me how to get from our apartment to the hotel with long, Londoner strides and what “bell end” meant.

I went home earlyish Saturday night and bought a bottle of wine on my way home just in case.  She burst through the door not long after having DMd me, “Shit!  I didn’t buy any wine!”  We drank and talked until fatigue set in and in the dark in our little twin beds on wheels we talked more like kids at camp until we both suddenly agreed we’d never stop talking unless we just decided to.

The next morning she was my co-panelist for Ask a Sex Blogger and by the end of the night we were deep in our cups laughing until our sides ached.  That night I got home after her and flung open the bedroom door.

“GOTN!  Come talk to me!” I shouted to the mound of covers in the dark.

“I’m tired!” she answered.

“No!  Get up!  THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!” I insisted.

And guess what she did??  Guess what this wonderful, funny, bad ass, wickedly awesome woman did?

She got up.

And we watched Babestation together and she fed me her peanuts and we drank more wine and she recorded us rambling about what, God only knows, until nothing but sleep was an option.

The next morning she walked with me for a bit back towards the Raddison then gave me a fierce hug and just as hurriedly as she’d run into my life 3 days earlier she was off to catch her train home.

Marie Rebelle is another I can’t forget to mention.  I could lay cuddled in her arms for days.  She’s focused, sexy, and kind and her love for the community was evident each time she saw a familiar face who’d embrace her.  We dined together and drank and talked endlessly about life and kids and kink.  And of course there’s her indelible partner, the quiet Master T, whose wit and sweetness was a perfect compliment to Rebel’s.

Remittance Girl wowed me with her intensity and sharp wit; eye and I somehow found each other in the Raddison lounge and shared at least two bottles of bubbles on two separate occasions; Liza and I talked and laughed like sisters.

F. Dot Leonora and Exposing40 burst into my life simultaneously with hugs and smiles and by the end of the weekend I had promised Leonora some fiction and was saying Hello! just like Exposing40.

The Other Livvy and EA were at the end of at least a couple of friendly toasts to the weekend.  Livvy lent her tits to our Boobday endeavor and EA showed me the edits he made to his reading once he’d taken my session.

I caught Jilly’s session on how to let real life inspire a story and wrote my first piece of fiction in years and Innocent Loverboy helped me with what -ing words are called in my own session and was my go-to guy for all the proper grammar words and then came up with a terrific story in my workshop.

I made sure to meet Charlie Powell and catch her session about writing about disability intelligently and she was everything I’d hoped and more.  Also, an extremely good hugger.

I lusted after Zak’s pants, watched in awe as Pandora paddled Celine’s bottom while Gryphon branded people in the other corner and Kerry used ropes on eye, became mesmerized by Andriy’s eyes which were like an Icelandic pool at dawn as we talked about sex and culture and he nibbled on his pie.  Every chat was another petal on the sunflower that was the weekend.

Adam and Monika are the two masterminds behind Godemiche and the dildo making duo can only be called artisans, really.  Their Technicolored phallic forest a testament to their dedication to beauty and functionality.  I blushed mercilessly as I chatted with Adam while holding a silicon replica of his beautiful cock.  Not every day that happens.  And Monika lent not only her breasts, but also her creativity to the group Boobday pic.

Alyson of Hot Octopuss (makers of ) and I chatted about sexual pleasure and the amazingness of their toy and their #SexWithoutStigma cause and Will from Doxy and I talked about vibrators until my cheeks were red.  The folks from Mystery Vibe told me they were fans of my Instagram account even before the realized who I was and I regret not having more time to speak with them about their creation.

Ruby Kiddell, the creator of this event, deserves a gold medal and every gold star known to man.  She single-handedly carved out a space for us to all meet and though it’s sad that her book is now closed as the steward of this gathering she has nonetheless set the bar high.  And though it was her “job” to run the show throughout the weekend we still shared good laughs and lots of toasts.

She’s a tough cookie and I can’t wait to see what she comes up with next and I hope she comes to whatever incarnation Eroticon becomes next because without a doubt I will be there, too.

The very last person I saw from the weekend was Stella who rode with Michael and Molly and I from Bristol and who then rode with me on the train until her stop which was miraculously just one before mine.  We laughed at the indecipherable message about 4 cars ahead in a London station and any numerous other things and she patiently answered all my questions about how one rides a train.  More excellent hugs were had and given.

Lastly, I’d be remiss if I forgot to announce that while floating on the waves of many glasses of crisp white wine at the very purple Raddison Blu Hotel bar in Bristol, England I got married.

To three stunning women.

I won’t tell you the order in which it all happened since there was some debate about this, but Molly, Girl on the Net and Rebel made me a very happy woman that night.

It’s no wonder my heart broke when it was all over for where else on the planet can a weekend like mine be topped off by three incredible women wanting to be your sister-wives?  Who argued over who should be my #1?

The truth is, I don’t deserve any of them, but I will endeavor to always be that woman they found me to be, because I want to be that person all the time.  I want to be the woman everyone met and hugged and spoke and laughed with that weekend.  I want to be more of me all the time, not just once in a lifetime.

I guess it’s time to let Hy take over a little more

 

Eroticon 2016: What do you want to learn from me in my session?

When I thought about attending Eroticon this year I had only one clear goal in mind: talk to people about getting published while I’m there.

It’s long been a dream of mine to transform my blog into a book, but I have no idea how to do it.  Do I self-publish like so many of you?  Do I find a publisher who puts it on paper?  What about an editor?  I’m certain I’d need one of those.  I already have a full time job in addition to the tons of work the blog requires.  When on earth would I find the time to put a book together??

Besides just publishing goals to explore while there, there were also all the people I’d finally get to meet. England, London, all the sexy British people.  It’s not exactly the best time financially for me to go, but fuck it.  When is it ever??

I took the plunge and  purchased the tickets and began to poke around the website and saw that Ruby was calling for panelists.  A panelist you say??  Well, double fuck it.  Go big or go home!

I downloaded the form, thought for a minute about what the fuck I was any good at and then came up with the title for my session:

How to write about [real life] sex and not make it sound like a To Do List.

Too often the recounting of a real life sexual encounter can fall into a list of things that
happened. This session will help you identify ways to make it a literary experience for
your readers.

For example, instead of “We removed our clothes and then we kissed,” you’ll hopefully
learn how to pull from real life, art,and movement and illustrate the scene with more
depth and nuance.

Attendees will learn how to dip into a personal experience – possibly unrelated to sex –
to better illustrate it in a meaningful way.

And for some unknown reason it was accepted.

I still laugh thinking about it.  Do I really sound like I know what I’m talking about?!

So, here’s the deal and what you need to know about me: I am NOT an English teacher. I do NOT make a living off of my writing.  I can’t remember all the names of the grammatical things I’m doing even now as I write.  (Wait, I do know this is a parenthetical thought and that last sentence ended with what’s called a period.)  I cannot help with grammar in a specific way or probably even a “correct” way.  I can’t promise you this won’t be a colossal waste of your time.

What I might do is provide a new perspective, a new leaping off point.  I might give you some new ideas or maybe even some newfound confidence.  I might even not waste your time.  Yay!

What I can do — and what I hope to do — is share with everyone my personal approach.  It seems some of you dig the way that I write and so I’m using that as a springboard for the session.  This will not be a How to Write Like Hy session, but a How Do I Write? session.  I can point out the things I like and dislike about a written scene.  I can do my absolute best to answer all your questions.

I also think there are some things that can elevate a writer’s connection with his or her readers that some people might struggle with and I am going to try to put to words some things I just riff.  There are also lots of things people do that push a reader away or make them skip to the next paragraph.  I’ll touch on those, as well, to the best of my abilities.

The session is relatively short (only 45 minutes), so I’ll have to be succinct and focused, but I’m also willing to be flexible and go where y’all need me to.

I’ve read that other presenters are bringing goodies (I have to bring goodies?!  Fuck.), slides, handouts, and any other number of accoutrements.  Seeing as I’m flying across a large ocean to get there, room in my luggage is scarce, so y’all just might only get me, my smile, and my words.

So, those are my plans, but I am open to what you all want to learn from me.

What were your thoughts when you read about the session?  Did you think, “Yes!  Sounds great!  Everything I want to know!”  Or did you think, “Hmm, I wonder if she’d also cover _____.”?

Let me know where you think you’re weak as a writer or what you’d like to improve upon or just give me suggestions of things you’d like for me to address.   Seeing as I’ve never done this before any insight whatsoever would be greatly appreciated!

Email me at hyacinth.jones@hotmail.com or leave your thoughts in a comment.

Can’t wait to see you all in 10/11ish days at the Friday mixer at the Radisson!

Woohoo!

xx

Hy

 

I’ll show you mine – Eroticon Live 2016

So, I’ll be taking my happy American ass off to England in roughly a week and a half for Eroticon.  HOLY FUCKING SHIT.  Go ahead and ask me if I have my presentation ready for my panel.  I dare you. I’m basically in denial about the trip meaning I have no where to stay Thursday night or Monday-Wednesday.  I’ve had a handful of offers from kind souls, but for whatever reason(s) I haven’t accepted. I sort of want to just be footloose and fancy free, I suppose, so I’m going with it.

Anyway, Molly has put together this little Q&A for all of us who are attending in the hopes that we’ll all get a sense of who’s who.  I can’t believe I actually get to fill out one of these things!

NAME (and Twitter name if you have one)

Hyacinth Jones.  @adissolutelife

If you had the opportunity to rename yourself (or your blog) what would you pick?

Nope.  Love the name and my pseudonym!

What are you most looking forward to at Eroticon Live and/or is there anything you are nervous about?

I’m looking forward to being Hy as a real person, not just as a two-dementional person with lots of words to say and tits to flash.  And of course I’m looking forward to meeting everyone in the flesh and sharing a bunch of hugs.  I’m a hugger.

I should be nervous about presenting my session, but I am painfully aware that I’m lacking any fear or nerves.  Perhaps they’ll hit me later, but I guess I’m confident in how open and non-judgmental everyone will be or maybe I’m just really excited about what I’ll be presenting and it’s wiping out any jitters.  Either way, I’m nothing but excited at this point.  Ask me 30 minutes before I go on, though.  The answer might be very different.

Have you planned which sessions you will be attending or are you more of a spur of the moment kind of person?

Not even a little bit.  As my lack of lodging arrangements should tell you, I’m pretty much just winging it.  Naturally I’ll be attending the two I’m on, though.

What essential items to your life will you be bringing with you to Eroticon Live? (you can have a maximum of 5)

My phone, my laptop, an international converter plug thingy, two pairs of contact lenses, and an open mind.

A new cocktail has been made in your honor.  What would be the key ingredient and what would it be called?

Gin, because ever since my grandmother gave me my first G&T when I was 19 I’ve had a love affair with it, and I’d call it the Hey, Barb.

And finally… Complete the sentence; I have yet to…..

…see the faces of so many.