Today is one of those days when I have time to write but it’s broken up throughout the day - an hour here, an hour there. Hard to keep momentum that way. The muse likes me to write the way I make love: slowly and sensually with complete focus on the task.

If you’re a connoisseur of erotica you know how awful the AI shit is.

Working on a story about a guy whose cock grows to impossible, mutant size. It’s turning surprisingly introspective. Changes his psyche, robs him of intimacy. Not the nirvana most guys imagine. You can never tell where the characters will take you.