How i whipped my writing routine into shape: my time with a Dominatrix and what she taught me about being my own boss

Well, if that doesn’t get a writer’s attention, I’m not sure what will. You’re probably picturing some tawdry interlude or dark dungeon interview, but alas, I’m afraid my time with a dominatrix was rather “vanilla,” as they say.

My husband is a metalwork artist, building everything from blacksmith handrails and light sconces to custom furniture. Can you tell where this is going? Let’s just say he had a client in need of some very specialized furniture. When he told me he’d be consulting with a couple of female dominatrices to help design the furniture, I decided I wanted to be there for this “supposed” consultation.

I entered the meeting with preconceived notions about what a dominatrix would look like and how they’d act, and needless to say, I walked in intimidated. My guard was up, and all I could think was, my husband better not look at them anywhere but in their eyes.

I wanted to be calm and cool, but I was anything but. I wore black Spanx leather-looking leggings, black leather boots, and a black top. If I wasn’t feeling strong, then darn it, I’d at least look the part.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman (we’ll call her Eve), who was also dressed in black, and another woman (we’ll call her Sarah), who was not as beautiful but exuded a bright and warm energy. Eve used to work in interior design, and years ago, Sarah had been an elementary school teacher.

Both women seemed more at ease with me than they did with my husband—safety amongst women, I suppose. I immediately felt protective of them, I didn’t want this meeting to accidentally cross over into sexual harassment. “Walk the Line,” by Johnny Cash, played in my head.

We sat at one end of the meeting table, and my husband and his male furniture client sat at the other. The client and the women discussed design ideas, addressed logistics, and, to the embarrassment of my inner teenager, discussed what would be done with the furniture. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from sounding like Beavis and Butthead. I wanted to look professional and mature, which apparently meant I’d have to remain silent.

Here is where it got interesting – yes, more interesting than hearing about people’s sexual proclivities. The client asked the women how much they’d like to be compensated for their time and expertise.

Eve said, “My value is directly proportional to what you pay me, and since I place a high value on myself, my fee is X/hour.” No hesitation, no playing coy. She told him exactly how much her time was worth. I felt like I had just witnessed female power at its finest and secretly wished I could be as bold. To ask for what you want, know your worth, and be absolutely unapologetic about it – yes, please, sign me up.

So, after we had the meeting and all went out to lunch, we returned to my husband’s workshop. While my husband toiled with the prototype drawings, going back and forth for further feedback, the women and I sat and talked.

I leaned toward them and said, “Eve. I just have to tell you, I am so impressed with how you handled yourself in the meeting and how clear and assertive your communication is. In some ways, you taught me more than all my college women's study classes combined—so, thank you.”

Eve responded, “Sometimes you have to be your own domme (short for dominatrix) and be in charge of the situation, even when someone else assumes you’re in the submissive position.” The image of the angel and devil on my shoulder was quickly replaced with a sexy, whip-wielding, leather-wearing dominatrix whispering into my ear – “I’ll be in charge from now on.”

Eureka! It was so incredibly simple and yet so profound. Of course, I needed to be my own dominatrix, my own boss. Why hadn’t I considered this before?

I spent the earlier years of writing, still wearing my therapist cap. I’d tell myself, "If you feel tired, take a break. If you don’t want to write that post yet, go for a walk. If you can’t think of the story's ending, pick up a book, and it will come to you.”

I had been kind to myself, which is all well and good, but it hadn’t served me in reaching the goals I had set out to meet. But, I also knew, anything taken to an extreme will be a disservice. Too kind and gentle, and I won’t get work done. Too demanding, and I’ll surely burn out. But a whip-wielding dominatrix bossing me around might actually work.

I spent the next week or so meditating on this vision of being my own Dominatrix. She would be tough, do what was best for me, and help me reach my goals. Once I had developed this archetype (Carl Jung would be so proud), I put her to work.

Working from home has its benefits, but as most can attest, there are several downsides, like endless distractions. So, the first thing my inner writing dominatrix insisted upon was limiting those distractions.

1. No snacking for excuses. Snacks would be for hunger only.

2. No surfing the web outside of research purposes. (She had to slap my hands several times for attempting to disobey that one).

3. Place your phone on “focus mode.” The only numbers allowed to come through were the kids, the husband, and the grandparents. This one was easy and made more of a difference than I anticipated.

If I wanted to work out, I had to do it before the day got started. If I wanted to watch Netflix, I could only do so after 9:00. Laundry, cleaning the house, and dinner prep were only allowed once the kids were home. My quiet hours were intended for work and work only.

Next, she helped me find my voice. “You sound so uptight. When you’re writing your mental health articles, be as uptight as you want, but when you’re writing for fun, please be yourself.” So, I did what I was told and started to relax a bit – and - the writing flowed.

My domme knows I’m happiest when I’m busy, so she kept me very busy, ensuring I used my time wisely. In the following weeks, I picked up more projects, got more work done, and was more focused. I didn’t have to spend time rationalizing poor choices because she didn’t allow me to make them.

If I wanted to be a prolific writer, it was solely up to me to make it happen. I had to design a routine for success and stick to it. I always knew I needed to do more, but my softer side kept winning the argument. With my dominatrix now running the show, my softer side hung in the corner, knowing she could only come out when work was complete.

Writing is hard, and it can be lonely. When you have deadlines placed upon you by an editor, it helps keep you motivated and working. For those who freelance or are writing a book for the first time, the only editor giving you a deadline will be you.

I implore writers, especially writers who work from home, to enlist their inner dominatrix when they need more structure in their daily lives. They're not as scary as you imagine. They just tell you like it is. If you want something, you’re going to have to ask for it or do it yourself. That’s what it really comes down to. Only you can get yourself up the hill of the writing industry. No one else is going to carry you. But, with a little luck, they might crack a whip or two for inspiration.