Imagining me, the Booker winner

Of all the strange ideas that have come over me, this should take the cake: "I should write a novel!" 

Its a different matter that the idea came to me when I was trying hard to shrug off procrastination and actually write a blog post. And if you have read my writing, or known my story tellling skills, its an ROFL right off the bat. 

But the strangest part was the thought that immediately succeeded it: "Wait, people will actually read the sex scenes I write". And then, of course, I was amused. Why was I embarrassed of writing a sex scene that the world reads?

One, I have read way too many instances of cringe-worthy sex in books. Two, if my flirting game is anything to go by, then I better desist. 

So anyway, the conclusion was that I will write a novel without sex. Or maybe I could outsource the sex part. After all, the story is going to be a family drama. It will explore the themes of guilt, self-sabotage, and constant self-questioning.

I can already hear the applause!

Oh, and you asked about the original blog post? That was a non-starter!