I find it tricky when people ask me questions about myself. I never have straightforward answers.
I’m terrible at small talk, I say.
I’m not very good at parties.
I quite like being outdoors.
I’m a coffee addict, a mother, dog lover, traveller, wanna be hippie, whisky lover…
Yes, but what do you do?
I eventually have to answer.
And then the conversation gets more interesting. Because honestly, who cares how much coffee I drink, how many children I have or if I’m an alcoholic.
I write about sex, I say. I’m kind of a sex writer. It’s like not all sex, or only sex. I write about dating, about women and difficult men, about disastrous dates and good ones too, about beautiful frocks and lipstick, sometimes I get political, sometimes I write haiku, I’m mostly funny, I’m sometimes not, most people like my writing, identify with it.
Will you write about me?
Probably. I mean, I always take what happens in life and turn it into something. It can be a walk, a date, a chance meeting. The beauty is that no-one ever knows if what I write is true or not. Or who I’m writing about. Unless I’m in a very bad mood. Or they’ve behaved really really despicably badly and I want revenge.
A nervous giggle.
How’d you get into it? The sex writing?
Hey, remember it’s not just sex writing. I guess I had a typical mid life crisis. Went through a divorce, kinda reinvented myself, started dating, and as cliched as it sounds, looked for the ‘me’ who got lost during marriage. Writing made it easier to deal with, writing made it fun. I tackle stuff that is often not tackled. You know, women of a certain age, feelings, sex, oh dear I’m scaring you I can see…
Haha, he says, you make money out of this?
Sometimes. I do other stuff too. I have a few different jobs as a blogger, I run a small travel company, work from home,it’s mostly good, I’ve been lucky.
Lucky? How, he asks.
The Violet blog has become a play. Not just once, there’s been a sequel. That’s been good.
What else he asks?
Now I’m getting bored.
I hate losing at scrabble, spend a lot of time online, have a much older lover, love shoes, never know how to spell embarrassed, eat badly, can be over sensitive, I’m a good friend to have, I don’t know what else, ask me out for dinner, we can talk more.
Okay, he says.
Groovy, I say.
I take out my pen…