Karen has begun to read my novel.  Apparently she is feeling obligated considering I dedicated it to her.  I didn’t expect her to appreciate all the technical content.  If my story weren’t fiction, it would be non-fiction.  I imagine writers are motivated for various reasons; part of my desire was to relate a computer security primer.  The technical content is rather dense in places and it’s fair to say I wrapped a story around a scientific white paper.  But that’s not what Karen is all worked up about.

The thing about writing fiction is everyone questions where the imagination comes from.  I find I’m not able to get away with saying, “I just made that up.”  Not in this house.  So I’ve developed a string of responses, depending on the question.  Like, “that really happened,  I pulled it from the news.”  Or, “I used that name because it’s generationally accurate.”  If you’re a writer in a similar position, constantly defending your actions, or your writing, please share some of your defensive responses with me.  I’m running low.

The most dangerous subject matter is of course sex.  I believe my book to be pretty tame.  In fact, writers label my style of writing on sexual content, “closed door” sex.  It’s not graphic by any means.  But that doesn’t mean Karen isn’t mad at me.  I might have included some locker room talk.  Nothing in comparison to Trump’s pussy-grabbing banter, but then I’m not a billionaire.  There is talk of Asian women, Chinese Xiaojie, and an affinity by my protagonist for uniforms in bed.  Excuse me for thinking outfit fetishes were mainstream.

Read my book and tell me if I’m weird.  Seriously, I just made all that stuff up.