Afternoon sun seen through smoke from a forest fire on Mt. Charleston last summer - SS Hampton Sr.
Hello and welcome everyone – I have a good friend and fellow Muse It Hot Publishing author, SS Hampton Sr. sharing a post with us today. Sometimes there’s something profound that happens to a writer that inspires, influences, motives, encourages, and even drives us to write certain genres;) SS Hampton Sr. shares his thoughts about one of his muses, Anais Nin.
Please put your hands together for SS Hampton… Take it away, my friend: )
Anais Nin - Transcending Reality, an expert at erotica
I do not remember when I first heard of Anaïs Nin (phonetically, as my middle-aged ears hear it, Ahna-ees Neen), nor when I read her famous collection of stories, Delta of Venus, but after that contact I was fascinated—and hooked. During her lifetime and after her death Nin has been idolized, reviled, shunned, and accepted. A biographer once referred to her as a “major minor writer” which may, in a sense, be accurate. Though she never became a literary giant, she was, in the west, among the first female writers of erotica and a very influential voice from the female point of view.
And what a voice she had. It was a unique voice shaped by her literary skill, her way of seeing her world, seeing the greater world around her, and perhaps personal experiences. Her skill was further sharpened early on when she, along with several other writers, wrote erotic stories for a private collector for which she was paid $1.00 per page. These stories later provided the basis for the short story collections Delta of Venus, and Little Birds, both published after her death in 1977.
Certainly the path she took through life might have become a body of work by itself, and indeed the 1990 film Henry & June concerns the relationship between the American author Henry Miller, his wife June, and Nin.
I have not written much erotica, and certainly none of what a writer friend refers to as erotic romance. Regarding the usual genres I write in, if a bit of erotica appears it is more veiled like an unspoken and embarrassed part of life, rather than openly presented as a wonderful part of life. I threw the veil away in my soon-to-be published first novel, Sharing Rachel, and the sequel which I am currently editing. Discarding the veil was fun, though I wonder how my writing would be received. I wrote my first novel in which the main characters are an ordinary husband and wife in the heartland of Kansas—no billionaires, no horny college students, simply an ordinary man and woman, like most of us are, setting out on an extraordinary adventure.
As I think about it, I wonder if Nin would approve of what I wrote, or if she might look at me and murmur, “Not enough life experience?”
Nonetheless, I believe Nin recognized something early on that many did not. Women enjoy erotica as much as men do. While she did not seem to adopt anyone’s agenda other than her own, there is no doubt that her literary influence is felt as strongly among many now, as it was felt generations ago.
Though Nin died almost 40 years ago, the literary legacy of this fascinating and tantalizing woman continues to entice a new generation of readers.
And I suppose that is why I continue to be fascinated by Anaïs Nin, as when I first encountered her.
About SS Hampton, Sr. – He is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, a published photographer and photojournalist, and a member of the Military Writers Society of America. He retired on 1 July 2013 from the Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class; he previously served in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve (1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Army National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle (2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007).
His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others.
Second-career goals include becoming a painter and studying for a degree in photography and anthropology—hopefully to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology.
After 12 years of brown desert in the Southwest and overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters. As of December 2011 in Las Vegas, Nevada, Hampton officially became a homeless Iraq War veteran.
Amazon.com Author Page
Amazon.com. UK Author Page
Goodreads Author Page
MuseItUp Publishing, forthcoming Spring 2014.
BLURB: Burt and Rachel Markham are ordinary small business owners of a seed & feed store in a small Kansas farming and ranching community. Many years before, as young university graduates eagerly anticipating exciting overseas employment, a lifetime in Kansas was the furthest thing from their minds, particularly Rachel who was raised overseas and dreamed of going back. By July 2013 their twin 18-year old daughters, having graduated high school several months before, go east to attend a university.
Burt and Rachel settle into their new life of an empty house and a predictable and unchanging routine that threatens to stretch far into the future. One summer evening Burt has an idea—but will Rachel accept the idea? If she does, will the idea add new excitement to their marriage, or destroy it?
EXCERPT: Life—the sum of many parts gathered into a raw and uninhibited whole and unashamedly and breathlessly lived to the fullest…
One part trapped heat and humidity, a thick, heavy embrace that fills the air and envelopes the flesh like a thing alive.
One part pungent scents swirling through the air and becoming a powerful, intoxicating aphrodisiac. Each provocative scent with its own story. The hot musky scent of feminine wetness and the stronger scent of masculine sex blended into its own particular smell. The individual smells of feminine sweat and perfume mingled with masculine sweat and cologne. And all of the resulting mixtures blended into a strong overpowering fragrance of consuming lust and pleasure.
One part sound for sound gives unseen life and strength to the spoken and unspoken. A female voice that moans “Ohhhh shit!” or screams “OH MY GOD!” followed by lengthy, rising whimpers that end in pleasure-filled shrieks needs no explanation; nor does feminine unintelligible babbling answered by a deep chuckle when accompanied by the rapid, endless slapping of wet flesh against wet flesh. In between the voices are long periods of silence broken only by the whisper of classical music, the rustle of bed sheets, the creak of bedsprings, and the sound of joined, intimate sticky wetness. Finally, deep grunts followed by much satisfied long, drawn out sighs from the feminine and masculine says it all.
One part sight for the visual binds the many parts together; blue-hued shadows and pale highlights playing across writhing shadowy forms, one smaller, curvaceous and feminine, the other bulkier and masculine, pantomimes an unspoken story. The feminine raised on elbows, head hung back, long hair brushing against damp bed sheets, a leg draped over the masculine with trembling pointed foot and toes curled tight. The masculine, resting on arms with hands placed on the bed, head lowered to a pale, blue-tinted breast, while hips move with a rhythmic passion between spread legs. The shadows joined together speak silently of lust, pleasure, domination, and submission.
All of the sums gathered together and witnessed, for without a witness there is no remembrance of a moment lived to the fullest. Against the far wall of a bedroom loft, beside a glowing nightstand lamp, brown eyes watched and took in every detail.
Sometimes the feminine looked with dazed blue eyes at the glazed brown eyes of the watcher seated in a large easy chair.
For a brief moment their eyes meet. For a brief moment, without touching, the feminine and the watcher share the heavy humid heat of the room, the incredible smells, and the sounds of endless pleasure from the feminine and masculine joined together.
And then the feminine returned to the private universe within that would always be unseen by and unshared with anyone…
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