I can’t write any more of this series.
Right now.
I’ve been bitching and moaning about this for a
while now, and though I wanted to get the last 3
books out it’s like I’m pulling my teeth out with rusty pliers while
someone decided I need my arm amputated.
Book 7: Protecting His Werewolf was meant to be the easiest
book to write, and fucking hell it is, but it’s been like torture to get it to
the 10k mark.
It’s even worse for the fact that I really like this
idea, I like the fact that it’s actually my first insta-love and I’m still not
sure if I’m going to be able to pull it off realistically or not.
It’s my conclusion to this whole fucking story and
as soon as I get past this bullshit of a day (in the book) which holds
explanations I don’t want to have to repeat and shit I don’t want to have to
remember. The sooner I get to the action and I’m free to fight and fuck and
fight some more.
I sit here, waiting for you all to get your hands of
book 6: The Rub of His Werewolf and I can’t
be bothered. I’m not excited—hell, all I want to do is cry and tell you how
sorry I am about that book.
The thing is, it’s not bad. It’s not detailed enough
for a lot of people, and I know I could have given it a bit more word count by
adding those details but I think they would have taken away from the scene. and
quite honestly I have been shit with details as it is where this series is
concerned and I feel that if I keep up. Even if I finish these next three books
by the end of June, they will be the worse pile of bullshit I’ve ever put out.
I feel you will read the struggle and the loss of
love I have for this series, and that’s just not true. I love this series, I’ve
just been working on nothing but them for the last 2 years and this is
including those moments I’ve written something else in between, because, well,
let’s face it, even while I was writing them I still had this series bitching
at my ankles and telling me I need to get back to them.
So I need a break.
I need it right fucking now, before I do permanent
damage to the whole thing and make you hate it before we even get out of this
first arc.
I will give it til the end of the week to see if I
can finish this book, but I’m at a point that I’m resenting myself because I
wake up in the morning with, “you don’t finish this by the end of the week then
you may as well quit.”
I go to fucking sleep with that running through my
mind, and I scream that at myself as the day goes on and I still haven’t done
any fucking work.
I don’t want to be like this.
I don’t want to feel like this.
And I don’t fucking have to.
The thing is I love writing. I have loved writing my
whole fucking life. It’s the only thing that hasn’t left me, while I go in and
out of obsessive trends. I have always gone back to writing in my diary – hell,
I made up a squiggle language in my spare time because I just didn’t have
anything else to write, so, well, why not.
I want this to be my life, I don’t want to do
anything other than this, and while I can still say this authorhood is for love
and not a way to support myself—my family—I should stretch my wings and see
where it takes me.
I should try my hand and see what I like best.
I should just write because the story struck and
because I can. I don’t need that pay check—I love the pay check, but I don’t
need it to live off.
I understand this comes off promotion, and it’s a
bit of a mood killer, but I need to get it off my chest. I need to get this
series off my chest before I can’t continue anymore.
So I’m hoping to have book
6 done so you’ll get it by next month but I’m not putting money on that,
and to be honest I think it will be a big thing if I can even get the next
three books out before the end of year, but I will try. I’m just going to take
a break, completely and see what else I can come up with.
I know I’m new and I don’t really deserve anything
like this, but I hope you’ll be patient with me. I’m truly sorry this has
happened. I wanted to finish the story arc before I let it go because I hate
when the story isn’t finished, at least a little, and you don’t know when the
next is going to come, but I feel if I continue you will end up hating it just
as much as I do.
So as I sit here looking at the last thing I wrote
and wondering why this story isn’t going the way I want it to go, but knowing
it’s because this is where it’s meant to be, I sigh and I come to a realisation
and so here we are.
Thank you for see me.
And thank you for giving me something to look
forward to, and in return I hope to give you something to look forward to.
And let’s all hope—me mostly—that this decision will
allow the cloud to shift around me and that happy mood I caught a glimpse of a
month ago comes back, and I can see joy in the world around me, not wonder
where my life is disappearing to.
Take your time sweetie, and if it's a break that you need, go take a break! We'll still all be waiting for you here. Know we love and care about you. When the time to write comes, it will come. Hugs! <3
ReplyDelete:) thanks, makes things easier just knowing im not rushing this one
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