Confessions of an Erotic Romance Author. Pt 2

I work from home around kids, and that's not unusual for authors. Or freelance writers. More than a few of us juggle being mom, or dad, whilst hitting deadlines, keeping up with edits and checking out new calls for submission.

But one of the hardest things is writing sex scenes during the day.

Although my seven year old is at school, I have a four year old boy who I have to work around and there are times I can manage an entire five minutes writing in one swoop before he needs something. I'm not ashamed to admit there are days when I'll dig out a dvd for him, or put Sprout on in the hopes I can get at least a twenty minute stretch done, but I'm only human.

So, have you ever wondered what it's like trying to write a passionate sex scene and juggle a four year old?

Yesterday was a prime example. I'm hip deep in a paranormal erotic romance with two characters who have the ability to shape shift into large cats. I'm close to the end of the first draft and hitting the final sex scene of the story. Now keep in mind the sex scenes for this book have run anywhere between 2000 words and 7000. Randy little beasts these characters, always running off with the scenes.

I sit my son down with a drink, a cookie and Teletubbies. Okay. Good. I can get the basis of this scene down.

'He stalked her through the trees, moonlight dancing across his intended victim. Her firm breas...'

"Tinky Winky" Screams the four year old.

I blink and look up from the lap top, wondering if that's a new word for needing to go potty only to remember that it's the name of one of the weird looking characters on the show. Fine. All right. No one is hurt. No potty runs. Sex. Must write sex.

'She turned, her long dark mane teased across her pale flesh. Desire danced within her gaze, each step she took toward him a promise of sensual delight if he had the courage to take her. His coc...'

"Mom! Look! Look! Baby!"

What? Erm okay, baby face in the sun. Sure. "Yes, baby."

'His baby face..' hey wait a minute, he doesn't have a baby face. Delete. Delete. Baby face indeed. Mutter. Grumble. 'His hands clenched, nails digging into his palms. Pressure built between his thighs, his sa...'

"Juice please mom." As the cup gets shoved into my face.

The lap top is set to one side as I wander off to refill the sex scene err cup. The steps on the way to the kitchen change to the rugged scenery of the forest where my characters await, breathless, hungry and butt ass naked waiting to get it on. Where is the juice? I know I made some up. Great, run out again. Another three minutes of the show is eaten up as I redo the pitcher for him, refill the cup and head down stairs.

He's sat, clutching a pillow, laughing as he watches the show, and once he's got his drink I'm able to sit down with my laptop again.

My gaze fixes on the screen.

'Pressure built between his thighs, his saciiii bbblmppkhgigouohggkljuyy'

My son doesn't even look at me.

By the time the show has ended I'm just about calmed down enough to go over with said four year old the reason why he doesn't touch mom's computer. He knows this. I know this. But sometimes those keys are just far too tempting for him. With the show over and the promise of running outside now waved back at me the sex scene has to wait a little longer.

Well, they say the build up is half the fun and I can only hope my characters don't decide to romp off through the forest without me. Maybe if he takes a nap later on I can - ah who am I trying to kid?

I head outside, resigning myself to the fact that the sex scene will take the best part of eight hours to write, thanks to a four year old and the return of his seven year old sister later in the day...