Welcome to ericabeale.com, home to future author Erica Beale. Follow my struggle of getting the large amount of writing ideas out of my head and onto paper. I will also be vlogging my process on Youtube.
I haven’t been feeling particularly inspired to write this past week, nor vlog (it’s too hot in my office!). Definitely had a nonproductive, sluggish few days.
That is until I wound up losing my shit last night.
I’ve been a huge Star Trek fan as far back as I can remember. When TNG hit the airwaves, I completely fell in love. I knew everything about that damn show. I could tell what episode was on just by watching the first couple of seconds of the show. I knew all the actor’s birthdays. Just deep into it.
Over the years, my love has waned. Not a lot. I still had love for the other shows and movies that came along over the years. But the feelings quieted somewhat.
Until last night.
And holy shit.
Just holy **** shit.
I knew the show was coming at some point, but for some reason, I didn’t really care that much. I figured it wouldn’t have a whole lot in common with TNG. And it very well might be (I hear the licensing is different so some bits will have to change).
Then I watched it the trailer.
I didn’t expect the emotions to hit me so hard. It pimp-slapped my heart with joy. Tears formed in my eyes each time I watched it. And I watched it A LOT of times. My poor husband had to deal with a wreck of a woman. I couldn’t help myself.
Suddenly, I was a little girl, again, sitting in front of my television all twitterpated that my show was about to come on. All the love I had for TNG flooded my very being.
Suffice to say I’m excited.
The only downside is we’ll have to pick up yet another streaming service to check it out. My husband patiently smiled at me, knowing how much Trek means to me, and just kind of shrugged. He wouldn’t deny me this. Wouldn’t even dream of it.
The trailer was like a very early Christmas gift. Part of me wishes I didn’t know yet because 2020 is still a ways away. I know time will pass quickly since the years are freaking flying by, but it’s still going to be an anxious passing waiting for the show.
I can’t help fan-girling like crazy. Every time I think about it, I get misty. I haven’t been this excited for anything in some time.
Oh, captain, my captain, I’m so happy you’re coming back!
Smut Rating: (tame)
It has been three years, seven months, thirteen hours and twelve minutes since the crash. Besides my Peter, three others lost their lives and one was damaged beyond repair. Everyone told me to stop blaming myself. No one could have prevented the accident, not even the most skilled driver. The icy roads came too suddenly and I did everything I was supposed to.
But that didn’t stop the pain, nor the guilt. During the week I spent in the hospital afterwards, I promised there would never be another love in my heart. Peter was The One. No one would come after. Causing the death of my heart meant I wouldn’t allow more love in.
Most people told me I was being foolish. Peter wouldn’t want me to never love again. It didn’t matter, though. I knew my duty.
I kept to myself in the years following. The solitude of my apartment gave me the only comfort. A place to hide. A place to grieve.
That was until my new next-door neighbor came.
I saw him in passing several times, never speaking. He was beautiful; tall, handsome, dark and wavy hair and soulful brown eyes. He would smile as we passed in the tiny stairwell and it would light the whole space. He tried many times to befriend me, but just looking at him made my heart ache. He made me think thoughts I’d sworn off for good.
One day, he showed up on my door step after a long day of work. When I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat. I fought my instincts to close the door.
“Hey, neighbor,” he said jovially. “I’m a sales representative. Today I’m here to sell myself!” He noticed the slightly disgusted shock on my face and laughed. “Oh, hell, I just realized how that must have sounded. No, I mean, I was hoping I could somehow convince you to join me for dinner.”
I swallowed hard a couple of times before I could speak. “Look, dude, I don’t know you…”
He gave me a patient smile. “You’re right. You don’t. But I see you all the time, and you always look so down. No one so beautiful should be so sad.” He sighed with exasperation at himself. “Sorry, that was just about the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said. And you’re entitled to be sad if you are.” He sighed again. “This is coming off all wrong. I’m sorry.”
He seemed to be grasping at what to say. As he struggled, I felt a bit of laughter bubbling in my chest. For the first time in a long time, I felt myself smile.
“Yeah, you suck at this,” I said, squashing down laughter as I spoke. “I’m not sure if ‘sales’ is your calling.”
He grinned at me as he shrugged his shoulders. Red was beginning to stain his cheeks.
“I’d like to think I do alright.” He held out a hand to me. “My name is Devon, from 3B.”
I cautiously took his hand in mine. “Charolette, from 2A.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Devon took his hand away, slowly, as though afraid to break contact. “Now that we’ve met, maybe I can try again? I have some very cheap red wine and a questionable cut of steak we can call fillet mignon if you would like to join me for dinner.”
I admired his persistence if nothing else. It reminded me of the first time Peter asked me out all those years ago. My heart filled with warmth and sadness. The warmth was what egged me on.
“Okay, I guess. As long as you’re not a serial killer.”
“Last time I checked, I think I’m not.” He backed away, his grin becoming wider as he moved. “I’ll see you upstairs at 7:30, then?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Alright! I’ll go get everything set up.”
As he sprinted up the stairs, I closed the door with a smile. Giddiness and eagerness both hit me as I ran off to get ready.
On my way out the door at 7:25, I picked up the picture of Peter on my mantel. I pressed my lips to glass, leaving a lipstick stain behind.
“This isn’t goodbye,” I whispered to his smiling face. With a heavy sigh, I left my apartment and into an un-known future.
Welcome to my Short Stories section!
Most of these stories will have some level of intimacy, therefore, most of these stories are geared towards mature audiences.
The stories include an Smut rating, ranging from 0 Eggplants (Tame) to 5 Eggplants (Filthy).
With that in mind, I hope you enjoy my works!
Smut Writer Hates Sleep Paralysis
In addition to my writing journey, I have just begun travelling through time, back to 1999 through film. It’s in celebration to the youth time stole. The year I escaped high school and started moving into adulthood.
The Matrix is my second film in this quest. I remember seeing this one in theaters as clear as day. One of my best friends and I got gurrrrled up, then headed to the movies. I guess we figured there would be some guys our age there, so we dressed to impress. I don’t think either of us was super excited about the movie at the time. It certainly looked fun.
Neither of us expected to be so blown away. Back in our day, there was nothing like The Matrix out there. Nothing. We were simply amazed. Who f**king knew?!
Seeing it now, I’m pleasantly surprised how well it’s held up. The CGI isn’t terrible (unlike its sequels–good God). I was also shocked at how freaking hot Keanu Reeves was! I don’t remember
thinking he was all that back when I was a kid. Not really. I mean, he did briefly give me the feels in that Paula Abdul music video, but I never thought about him much after that. Eighteen-year-old Erica was apparently blind as a bat or something.
Anyway, the movie is still super enjoyable. I didn’t expect it to be. It even made me want to watch the second one, which is what’s on in the background right now. I gotta say, Neo’s priest-like outfit really does it for me.
Heaven help me, why do I have a thing for priests?
Any ideas on what I should watch next? I’m sticking to things on the big streaming services. I’m leaning towards The Mummy, though if I can find it, I might go for the Iron Giant. I…may have never seen it before.
DON’T JUDGE ME.
I mentioned on my first vlog that I’m out of work on disability right now. I’m doing okay. Well, I’ll be real and admit I’m not 100% better, though I’m a lot better than I was. That’s all great, but I’m still barred from the office until at least July 8th (and that’s if I’m lucky).
I’ve been having some sleep issues, probably because I have been on some of “the good stuff.” Admittedly, I’m a night owl, but it’s ridiculous how many nights I’ve accidentally seen the sun come up.
Because of this, I’ve been watching a lot of movies. A LOT. Mostly stuff that would make my husband’s eyes pop out of his head due to boredom. Last night’s entertainment: Never Been Kissed.
I don’t even know how to feel right now.
I graduated high school the year it came out. As I continued to watch, the more I couldn’t wrap my mind around that fact. I don’t remember school being anything like this movie. Is it because I went to an all girl’s school? Eh…
I was never popular in school and I rarely wanted to be one of the popular girls. I had my own clique, and we were happy with each other. Probably way better off than most of the cool people. They always seemed like such assholes so I’ll never understand any movie where characters are so desperate to fit in with them.
Another thing is I don’t know how to feel about the fact that I had on the same eye shadow color as Drew Barrymore’s character did at one point in the film. How outdated is my make up?! I JUST bought that eye shadow palate a few months ago…
You can’t see it in these pics, but I assure you we’re wearing the same eye shadow. Am I retro or pathetic? I just don’t know!
Why did I bother posting the pics? I dunno. Why didn’t I take them down when I realized you couldn’t see the make up? Laziness. Complete laziness.
Anyway, this experience has me wanting to watch as many 1999 movies as I can before I go back to work. Call it nostalgia or torture, not sure which. I think I’m in for a wild ride. A wild, sort of tacky, outdated ride.
Wait…did the one dude really go to prom in his tighty-whities? That shit shouldn’t fly. He didn’t even double bag dem balls?! WHAT IS GOING ON!?!
When the Smut Hits the Fan
You know how Facebook lets you add your profession to your profile? Yeah, well, a long time ago, when I was more diligent about wanting to be an author, I added a little something. Something I didn’t know would come back to haunt me many years later. Not in a bad way, mind you.
I added one of my jobs as Smut Writer.
I thought it was cute and funny. And honestly, all of the stuff I was writing did involve smut. Nothing too dirty. Usually. I’d say only 15% of my stories could qualify as filthy. Even my dirtiest had a plot, though! I swear!
Keep in mind, I also added Connoisseur of Attractive Men (which is now unpublished). I am a fan of hot guys. I swear if I become Queen of the World(TM) Chris Hemsworth wouldn’t be allowed to wear a shirt. Ever. Though, I would be a gracious monarch, so if it’s cold, he could wear a leather vest.
Anyway, back to Smut Writer…I never expected anyone to see it. Moreover, I never expected Facebook to prompt me to turn it into a page years later after I’d forgotten my silliness. Then years after that, something strange started: People started liking the page.
Like, a lot of people. Over 750 people.
Seriously, WTF? HOW? I didn’t even do anything with the page, yet people took an interest.
A few days ago, one of my friends (really fr-amily) asked me if I had a story she could work on. She’s trying to hone her e-book formatting skills. I didn’t have anything finished, but one story, Bait, was almost done. I had a lot of editing to do and I wanted to rework some stuff so it could fit in with a broader story I’ve had in mind for years. I almost didn’t say anything about it. Fear of failure started kicking in.
But something struck me. I’m freaking Smut Writer. I’ve been stuck at home on sick leave from my 9-5 for weeks and still had a couple of weeks ahead of me to go before I could even try to return. I should give the masses what they want. What better time would I have to work on my creative endeavors?
So I threw caution to the wind and agreed to work on the story to hand to my sister from another mister.
The story is dirty. Hey, it does have plot. I promised that earlier! And Smut Writer’s fans continued to grow. I figured if I’m going to have an erotic short story out there, I should have a blog. Then I thought, I’ve always wanted to try vlogging, too, so maybe all these things could tie in together?
Hell yeah, they can!
And that’s where I am. I handed her my story earlier this afternoon. I started working on my blog. I began dressing up my Youtube channel.
It’s freaking happening.
And I’m bringing you dirty-minded people with me.
I’m going on a journey. I want to be a writer. I want to have fun with a vlog. I have a lot to learn, and what I learn, I’ll share. If you have your own naughty works you’d like to promote, just drop me a line and I’ll be happy to give you a shout out.
More importantly is I want us to have fun and grow together. I want this to be more than a job, but rather a lifestyle. Glad you’re here with me!