After several minutes, Ed said, his voice raspy and spent, "You okay, Laur?"
Laurie, his bones melted, his muscles slack, his heart pounding like a happy caged beast against the wall of his chest, his backside throbbing and still half-full of Ed, let out his breath. With great effort, he nodded.
This was something he'd done a great deal of when he was very young, so young the memory was washed to sepia with age.
Heidi CullinanRide, authors. Write a ride. Figure out what yours is, and then pimp the ever-living shit out of it.
Heidi CullinanHow did I know? Paul, I've known since you were eight and I caught you masturbating in front of the TV to Bo and Luke Duke.
Heidi CullinanTag: hilarious
Louisa raised an eyebrow. "Is he—how shall I put it delicately—a simple man?
Heidi CullinanWhat if his advisor found out? Would getting caught having public sex do something to his teaching assistantship? Would he still be able to get a job? Would getting felt up in a laundromat inadvertently lead to him living on the streets, starving and exposed, selling his body for sex, which meant he would contract a disease and die?
Heidi CullinanAdam could imagine what he looked like: a debauched nerd.
Heidi CullinanI understand that it’s disheartening to pour effort and money into a work of art and find that others do not value it with the same intensity. I’ve been to this rodeo more than a few times, and yes, it’s painful and hard on the soul. It is also the sort of thing that grown-ups do every day. Anyone deluded enough to think they are owed monetary success because they bled for their art is in for some hard, hard knocks and buckets full of tears. There will be many cries of “unfair” and much jealousy and hatred. And to be fair, all authors go through this every time they watch their books ride the waves of bestseller charts and the ego torture chamber known as Goodreads reviews. Even the most well-adjusted of us watch that horrible piece of shit book beat our baby to pieces and gnash our teeth and shout at our monitors demanding to know what brain-donors are shopping on amazon.com these days.
But holy Smart Bitch on a cracker, Batman, to write a post about how stupid readers are and worse to actually put it out there on the internet is so beyond the pale there’s a special hell for that kind of idiocy. Let me repeat: authors exist at the pleasure of readers. Without the people who buy and read my books, I am just another dizzy broad writing shit down. Readers aren’t just an author’s audience; they are her lifeblood.
--
[His pain] wasn’t a punishment. It wasn’t a gift. It just was. His pain was his life. It wasn’t all his life was, not always.
Heidi CullinanTag: inspirational pain rehabilitation
But what I am done with is waiting for when things are better. I’m done waiting for the pain to be all gone. I’m done trying to keep it at bay.
Heidi CullinanTag: inspirational truth
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