This one is actually painfully obvious to those who know me.
I’m a writing tutor.
Okay, not now. Now, I’m a professional editor. But I used to be a writing tutor.
In my first writing center, we had a very fun, very close knit community of tutors, at least two of which I still talk to today and we all hung out until all hours of the day in “the lab.” The lab was a room with floor to ceiling windows, a couch that we all regularly fell asleep and drooled on, and a back corner that we called “L.J.’s office” because it’s where I sat, where I hung my print outs, where my tutees knew to wait for me, and where I could be found writing any time I wasn’t in class. The saddest thing about graduating was seeing that my “office” had been moved out of the corner to allow for a new table. Also, they took down the disembodied pirate head hanging from the ceiling. Losers, right?
I feel I should mention that this is not a true story. I don’t know any Josh and I had the evil librarian look mastered by the time I went to college.
This is actually the first pornographic story I published under my own name. I mean to write a novella length work on a similar premise some day, but until then, enjoy!
Read “The Writing Tutor” here