As Plentiful as Blackberries
A story set in the world of boudoir photography ... Linked with Shakespeare quote "Reasons are as plentiful as blackberries"
To research - origins and meaning of phrase, reasons why people go to boudoir photographer
Henry IV: If reasons we're as plentiful as blackberries,I would give no man a reason upon compulsion...
Reasons to do boudoir photography shoot:
Surprise gift for partner
Wedding gift
Confidence boost
Strut your sexy stuff
Have fun
Capture beauty forever
Spice up sex life
Pre baby pics
Celebrate womanhood
Self awakening
To dress up
Act out a fantasy - Business sexy, school girl sexy, country girl sexy, sporty/sexy, girl-next-door, dominatrix, just washin' the clothes and doin' the laundry sexy, 4-wheel drivin' sexy, etc…
Dudeoir (men's boudoir)
Couples boudoir? RESEARCH
With a group of girlfriends
Hen weekend
Self love
Self esteem
At home session - to show off new home, first home, special place
Celebrate singledom
Celebrate divorce
Celebrate weight loss
After leaving military (or another strait laced job)
To feel empowered
Heal from domestic violence
Celebrate transitional period eg kids leaving home, engagement
Find yourself
Do something different
Feel sexy
Body builder
Get photos to use in adult dating/escort business??
Novel based around the lives of the women who have sessions .... Needs to be some sort of link. Something to do with the photographer?
What if ... The photographer is male?
What if ... The photographer is selling the photos to porn sites?
What if ... One of the customers is an undercover cop?
What if ... a serial killer starts taking out the women?
What if ... The women are connected in some way?
What if ... The women are all friends, but they all keep their photoshoot a secret from each other ....?
What if ... The photographer is acting out their own fantasy of being a photographer?
What if ... All the women die in mysterious circumstances?
Character + conflict = plot
Photographer is female, very conscientious about protecting the women she photographs, all for liberating their womanhood and building their confidence. However she has a dominating husband in the background, an online gambler who bullies her into taking more hardcore photos and selling them to porn sites.
"Little Miss Prim and Proper", the other girls had christened Jan at school, and while she'd despised the nickname at the time, she had to admit she liked the idea. Prim and proper. A home for everything, and everything in its place. Those were the mantras she'd taken into adult life, and when she started the boudoir business three years ago she made sure she carried her beliefs over to her working environment. She loved the orderliness of the dressing room, the cleanliness of the studio, and the starkness of her office. The lingerie hung neatly in colour and size order on a rack at the back of the dressing area, and the accessories were stored in labelled boxes - a place for everything and everything in its place. In her office, the walls were lined with shelves holding colour-coded folders - red for her current projects, purple for completed jobs, yellow for the portfolio images she used to entice her customers in for a shoot. And in the corner was her pride and joy - the locked cabinet where she stored her equipment, every lens polished till it gleamed, every filter tucked away in its packet, every memory card labelled with the time and date it was last used. To most people Jan's system might seem over the top; anal, even. But to Jan it was perfection itself, and she didn't know how she'd cope if it were any different.
That morning Jan arrived at the studio a few minutes later than she wanted. Somehow Tuesdays always seemed to get away from her. By the time she'd made the packed lunches, waved Andrew off, walked the dog and driven Tom to the bus stop, it always felt like half the day had passed by. As she unlocked the door and walked into the office, she spotted a ladder in her tights. "Damn," she muttered, grimacing. She tipped her handbag upside down, the contents raining down onto the desk with a clatter. "Damn," she said again. "No tights." Pulling a small gold compact from the mountain of clutter, she peered into the mirror, tutting as she noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes. Out of the pile came a tube of foundation, which Jan squeezed out and dabbed onto the shadows and the faint purple marks around her jaw. Absent-mindedly she ran her fingers through her hair, trying desperately to remember who was coming in to see her today. Suddenly the doorbell pealed out a chime. "Damn!" Jan said, for the third time. She opened a drawer and swept the contents of her bag into it, before throwing the bag under the desk and heading off to let in her first customer.