A Homicidal Maniac Who Rapes Dead Babies Might Live Next Door To You

I know one lives across the street from me. How do I know? A successful author of horror writing lives across the street from me. As far as I know when she feels homicidal she writes. It’s one of the few things I know about my neighbor I’ve never met. She’s published and she earns her living with her work. I rarely see her, though I’ve seen her husband weekly take their garbage cans down to the curb. I respect her privacy and can only divine things about her that she puts out into the world, IE, I’ve read her work.

I find that most authors of the horror genre are homicidal maniacs. The only difference  I see between a horror writer and a serial killer is one lets their thoughts play out on the page while the other takes their thoughts out into the world and plays them out in real flesh. As I watched the news earlier today of the school shooting in Oregon, it was painfully clear to me the shooter did not know this difference. Or maybe they did and didn't mind the consequences of their actions. I prefer not to pay those kind of consequences for my actions. My thoughts and prayers are with all those affected by this person’s choice of action.

I guess that’s the dividing line between most writers and those in prison or loose on the streets acting out their thoughts in the real world to me. I do what I consider illegal all the time. One of the main character’s in my book, Forced to Change is an assassin. Jared gets paid, very well in fact, to go around the world killing people I don’t like. He really enjoys his job. Especially when his targets are homicidal sadistic rapists. That’s his version of Christmas wrapped up in an assignment. He won’t even take money to kill them, he does it for free.

Personally, I’m a big fan of freedom. Being locked away in prison would be a suffocating experience for me. I avoid it by walking the line of man’s laws and staying on the side that keeps my black ass out of jail. As of today I’m legally allowed to smoke weed. I can light up a joint in the state of Oregon and smoke that sucker down to a roach. I won’t say whether or not I did so before it was legal because I believe my joy over this new law explains that perfectly. For the sake of keeping my beautiful black booty out of jail, I only wrote about puff, puff, passing the chronic prior to today.

Death of The Starving Writer/Birth of The Satisfied StoryTeller...

Maybe you noticed or maybe not that I’ve changed my label from Starving Writer to Satisfied StoryTeller. At around 200 lbs. I’ve never actually starved for my art. Almost, there was a time I was forced onto a Ramen Noodle diet due to my budget. Though, I ate everyday even when life was suckage and the only roof over my head was that of my truck, Dante 2.

So why would I consider myself Starving at a time in my life I wasn’t starving for food? Well, I was starved for something else. Inspiration, motivation, love, Goddess. I was cut off from the bounty that is the Divine Design in my life. I was unsure of my every step. Failing at the highest level for what I thought was how my life should work. I was suffering from depression and an inability to see how much better my life could be if I, the Sleeping Beauty of my life could just wake up.

Recently, I fully woke up. I’ve done so every once and a while over the years, but today I can say I’m completely awake, finally. I’m Satisfied with my life. I’m satisfied with the person I am today. I know what I want to do for a living, writing full-time, and how to accomplish that goal. I have a roof over my head and food in my fridge.

I’m happy, content. I have goals and I’m working toward them. I have everything I need and more than I could possibly want. So the time to change my title has come. I’m no longer starving, I am Satisfied. So if you see the ‘starving writer’ label somewhere connected to me, let me know. Thanks my loyal 8 followers. Much appreciated.

Simone

PS. New Literotica story up...Goddess, Simone & YOU