You Need an Object

In my line of work, as in life, things of a lewd nature creep up from time to time. I spent one day replacing every fucking with fuckin’  in a certain character’s dialogue to better convey his Scottish brogue. I quite enjoyed that one.

Then there was the author who had written about a young girl who fisted in her dress. My eyeballs skidded to a halt. Continue reading “You Need an Object”

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