
Photo courtesy of Beck and Her Kinks
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There are times when I meet people – generally face-to-face – and the conversation somehow comes round to the fact that I am submissive, and being me, I brush it off casually, without really getting into the ins and outs of how my submission works. I don’t brush it off casually because I am ashamed of being submissive: I’m not. I brush it off casually because all in all, I am not that comfortable talking about myself unprompted.
As you may, or may not, know, I have a Tumblr blog titled I Heart Alle. The Alle in question is, of course, Miss Alle Connell. Between writing the excellent Hello Alle Dot Com – a blog I feel perfectly balances a sensible approach to life with a love and acceptance of girlieness, which is beginning to rub off on me – she was also able to give me some extremely valuable advice last year, when things were not so wonderful for me. And so I somewhat off-handedly, but ardently titled my Tumblr blog in homage to her.
Yesterday Remittance Girl wrote a magnificent piece titled Now That I’m Fat. There is plenty I could say about this piece, but I am in almost complete agreement, and reiterating what she said seems like a waste of my and your time. So please just go and read her article. However, there is one aspect which RG seemed to touch upon, but which I would like to talk about in a little more depth. Her piece opens with this paragraph: 
One of the best things about being part of a community of writers – even if it is just on twitter – is the feedback and the tips you receive from your fellow writers. Anything from an idea for an article to a thorough critique on a long piece of fiction, we all need the eyes of others from time to time. However, it is also poignant to remember that no two writers work in exactly the same way. Over the past few months I was really struggling to write. Either I had an idea that did not translate to the page, or I felt the desperate urge to write and had no topic – and it was one of those spaces where I could not muster passion for other people’s ideas, kindly as they may have been offered. Which brings me to the “just write” principle.
On Friday night I had the pleasure of attending the opening of Molly’s exhibition A Taste of Molly, at Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium in Hoxton. As a good friend of the woman herself, I was thrilled to be able to go and support her and her work.
















