Eamon couldn’t seem to sleep. He didn’t want to look into why he couldn’t so he was just pushing it off as homesickness. Which was stupid, because the last thing he wanted to do was leave.
Taking Control of my Werewolf (Moonlit Wolves #4) page 27
What I’ve done
·
Taking Control of my Werewolf (Moonlit Wolves #4)
·
Want: continue—already
done 11,504
·
wrote: 2,336 words
·
Something New
·
Want: Out line, start-up
·
Wrote: 1,632 words
The Excuses
Stress. Heartache.
Depression.
Yeah, there really isn’t
any. Not really.
Thoughts for Thoughts
I’m nervous, excited, and anxious—no wonder I can’t write
anything.
The worse part of it is that
I have two stories play around in my head. Telling me what I need, how to
proceed. How to make it work, make it different from everything else. And I
can’t write it. I get these points up, I get read, fingers on the keys, words
on the screen…and fucking nothing. What I do manage to write ends up being crap
and I’ll have to scrap it.
And then I have this other
book that has me second guessing the whole thing. Should I make it that
explicate? Should I pull it back? Most people who read them, and will read this
one are woman, and they probably don’t want to know the shit I want to put in
the book? I want to write it for a reason and I probably will, but if I suck
balls at it it’s not going to be that much help, but it needs, I want something
more…. Well, real.
I’ve gotten Eamon and the
werewolf in the one room. Or area. Yeah. It took a while though…maybe too long.
But this storyline, the full one, still has another book attached to it.
517 words in TComW (MW#4)
Something new!!!
I came up, and started a new
Contemporary Erotica Romance, so it’s probably not going to go anywhere, though
I’d love to finish all the stories I start, I doubt I’ll accomplish any of it.
Anyway, I’m calling it Getting a Grip, it’s a story about a older
guy coming out of the closest with a divorce from his wife. I’m hoping that I
can tell this in a way that will work, as it is there are reasons why he looks
into this part of himself, ‘cause he ends up with the guy next door, at
least that’s what’s happening at the moment, I’m just really getting what’s in
my head out, outlining, that sorta crap. Still…..
1,632 words
Only they won’t work, not
with the facts that I want it to be a struggle for him as he comes to terms
with it. But then maybe he could, just not in….huh, we’ll see. Can’t really
write what my fingers don’t want me to, now, can I?
—yeah, I’ve thought it threw
a little, and I’ve decided that half of what I wrote will be coming out. Not
‘cause of the context, that crap is still being in there, it will help. I’m not
writing this book as a hating himself gay. I’m just exploring that part of him
he never looked at ‘cause of his wife and family. And to do that I think it
needs something’s hidden a bit. I may be able to get away with him just
thinking it, but that’s a lot of info dumping. We’ll see.
At
least 982
words are
defiantly staying.
1,138w TComW (#4)
[Chap 7; 1,709w]
This was just to cool to pass up
I haven’t written shit, ‘cause I feel like shit.
It’s not in a coughing and
spewing way, more the mental one, but I’m not alone and considering the shit
that’s just been dumped on me (no fault of my own) I’m doing really well. And
let’s face it, Life can only kill you if you let it, and I’m not going to. I’m
stronger than that, I can still fight. Even if it’s one of the hardest
opponents I could ever come up against. Myself.
Anyway, I haven’t been
writing, not what I should, and surprisingly more than I original thought I did
(round 3 thousand worlds). But it hasn’t stopped my mind from working. I’ve
nearly figured out how to get my two character to their confrontation they need
to have, but I haven’t quite figure the rest out, just that part, which is good,
the rest will come better by ear. I’ve also figured out how I’m going to get to
the next part, or to make the other story I wrote (Getting a grip) to a point
where he can start thinking about what’s what. I’ve gotten a little deeper into
his backstory that was needed, and make it obvious that those words are going.
And I’ve been thinking about
another book. You see, ‘cause as I’m not writing I’ve procrastinated and by
that I ended up reading, back reading and I’m thinking about asexual’s. And
about what type of story they could bring to the table. In actually having the
fact that they don’t care about sex. That sex can’t be there story, and yet
they could actually make a nice romance story. Or just a nice story about the
heartache they go through trying to find themselves companionship.
Anyway, that’s where I’m at
in this moment, how ‘bout you??
Second Week
681w TComW (#4)
It’s a lot harder than I
thought it would be to right anger when your sad and near suicidal it you think
too hard about it. Yeah, I was being sarcastic, but then I thought I could
write when all I want to do is craw under my covers and cry until someone comes
along and fixes this.
Just to touch base before we start up another fortnight
As you can tell, shit job
I’ve been doing with the whole writing thing. Not only is this because of
moving stress—and the fact that we are meant to be about by the end of next
week, but have nowhere new to move into. But my computer decided it wanted to
be a bitch and fuck out on me, along with the fact that one of the programs I
have has decided it wants to be a dickhead and now opens up with a side bar I
can’t fucking get rid of, and it’s annoying as hell, ‘cause I have to cut &
paste like everything just so that I can actually work on more than one thing
at a time.
Shit as it all is, I still
should be writing, but I’ve got no real motivation, or mojo, or anything that
resembles an ability to write.
Not that I think you truly
care, ‘cause let’s face it, what it to any of you. I can talk about writing,
show you all that I’m doing it to some extent, but at the end of the day I’m
doing nothing about it.
Yeah, okay, so you see where
this could be going…..
Yesterday (Thursday) I
decided that it was the day that I was going to submit my first book in the
Moonlit series. I have the info that I need, though I feel that I should go
over that again, refresh and all that bullshit. Still, I opened everything up
and I’m doing it. I’m submitting, ‘cause I’m stressed and distracted anyway,
which is what the four to six weeks until I hear back from them is going to be
like, so why not add it all now, when I’m already like this, then do it when,
let’s say, I’m settled. It also gives me some of that time to get my house in
order and all that ‘cause I’ll have energy to spend, nervous energy and nowhere
to put it.
So I’m submitting, I’m at
the point that I have put in my chapters into the book that I really don’t want
to chapter up. It’s just going to lose something in the whole thing. But I
will, I’m going to read threw it again tonight to make double sure, then I’ll
read threw it on Sunday…. You get it all. And then I’ll get my mum to help me
out and hit send for me.
You see, I’m not smart. It’s
tragic, but I’ve known it my whole life. I’m not going to come out with things
that are intentionally funny, I’m not going to able to pull tears down your
face (well I might, that’s really a different point, isn’t it) I’m not going to
be able to write about smart people. It’s a fact, and because of the fact I may
not go anywhere. Hell, I may not just ‘cause I write shit.
Still, you have to write a
cover letter.
I have no fucking idea what
the hell I’m meant to do with that. I have no idea how to make things sound
professional, and important, and the way I talk, act might work in fiction, but
it doesn’t when you’re trying to impress.
I can’t impress. I can’t do
it when talking; I can’t do it when I dress. I can’t do it at all. I’m not a
person that gives two shits about your first impression of me, and it sucks and
it makes me shit at interviews, but at the end of the day your option on me is
going to come more from what you are feeling that day then what I’m doing.
Since like 90 % of anything is from the perception of the other person not what
you look, say or do.
Still, I’m not smart. My mum
is. And she’s, to this day, a support system of me to lean on and to make me
look better. If only on paper.
Anyway, so as long as
nothing goes wrong and my mum says she’ll help me, since it’s just about her
telling me what needs to be written, and maybe looking over my language and
I’ll do the rest. Still, as long as I can take up a bit of her time, I’m going to
submit my book to a publisher on Monday.
Also, over the next couple of weeks I’m going to be
putting up a few, randomly moment, Conversation Starters, though recently I’ve
realised, there not really them at all, just me talking shit, so I really
shouldn’t have called it, ‘Talking Shit’ but doesn’t really make you
interested, does it?
I’m doing this ‘cause I can. I have most of the shit
ready to go, some still need a bit of brushing up, others need information
checked, but they are ready and waiting. And since me writing is shit, and it
probably won’t get any better, since my other half is having the week off. Anyway, so maybe look forward to that. Maybe
I’m not really talking much sense in any of them, but, still….
Thanks for the time
Me
No comments:
Post a Comment