Day 11 Nano

This morning I wrote 1,070. That's only 10487 words so far but it's getting there.

I spent all day yesterday in the garage with my stepmother cleaning up the garage and organizing seven boxes for storage and a large set of piles for donation/selling purposes not to mention the number of bags of garbage and recycling! But I spent all day working and did not work on my writing like I should. And when I was at my computer, I started cleaning the room around my computer only to find a much missed computer program that I added to my newer laptop. Add stress of trying to decide if my computer was hacked, downloading and running spyware software. I was exhausted and went to bed around midnight.

So, when I woke up at 8, I was relieved to get over a thousand words accomplished let alone pick up my bedroom and watch a little Firefly.

Unfortunately, I used my new word count as a reason to go out and reward myself. I purchased a few items from a very busy grocery store and came home to attempt to make cake pops.
So, as they freeze up a little more, I sit with my roommate and hope to add at least another thousand words to my count, fight my sleepiness & catch up on American Horror Story: Asylum.

Good luck, writers.

What If You Hate Your MC?

Day 9 of Nanowrimo
Writing goal: write as much this weekend has humanly possible.
Words so far today: 1,046 words and counting...
End of day: 9,417 words so far...

It's insane how difficult it is to write when you hate your main character. Mine is a cynical bitch that pretty much hates people and has no faith in relationships--friendship or romantic. I don't even know how she got written either! I know I've been going through a re-break of a break up with my ex and my current flame/new best friend is gone for six months. But I didn't think I would be so disgusted by relationships. But we write what we feel and maybe I pulled from my subconscious and heightened it a little to make it work.

It always is hard to write when you feel trapped. What did I do? I asked for help from my fellow writers. I posted in the forums on the Nanowrimo website. I asked for support. And I got it! Do I push through it? Do I give up? Most people said I should kill off the character if she made me so unhappy. Others said that I should keep going. And I did.
And now I'm over a thousand words today.
Not as far as I need to be but it's still going.

Finding Your Own Writing Motivation

No one ever said it was easy to be a writer. It's not and I hope these blogs don't come across as someone who consistently complains about writing. An ex boyfriend of mine did not understand my dilemmas of being a writer and maybe I was not accurate enough to describe my woes. It's mostly an exhilarating adventure this writing craft that is mine. My whole heart goes into it. Every absolute fiber of my being just screams for writing and the senses, blood in my veins, everything is pure excitement when I get to write and I find something to lock onto. There's really nothing to describe it. And I think that is something difficult to comprehend to an outside source.

The trouble is not always having that emotion to lock onto. It's that life gets in the way time and time again. You've got bills to pay, jobs to work, homes to clean, food to cook, friends to see, family to visit, guys to date, dogs to play with, movies to watch and everything in the middle that will cause your writing time to suffer. But it's all about trying to find a balance. Make a list, set a schedule, divide up the work and give yourself an allotted time to write. There's no way to tell you how to do it other than come up with a solution that works for you.

For me, I have difficulties clearing my mind and schedule. I don't have the time or the willpower to motivation sometimes. My solution? Get rid of the trivial things. Got movies sitting in my queue to watch or rent? Do it while I write. Find a writing partner in your friends or boyfriend. Set aside time for you to write while they do something they enjoy or need to do.

Today, I had the urge to get out of the house. I've been spending a lot of time lately with a friend and not really getting time to myself. So, after a date, I opted to go home, curl up on the couch, and watch TV. Today, I went and did some last-minute weekend shopping (ie. buying a winter pea coat) before stopping off at Starbucks for coffee and coming home. I chatted with my roommate for a while before he instructed me to write. And by instructed, I mean, he dragged me by the wrist over to the sofa, handed me a blanket, turned on my computer and said "write" in a demanding tone. Last time he did this, I knocked out a few pages in an hour. It's great to have someone to motivate you. And writing is a learning game, always moving, always trying to find what works for you.

So, write on, my fellow writers. Catch you in the next chapter.

Post-Work Writing Sessions

It is amazing to think that this is the third day in a row that I am honestly so excited to go home after work! Why? I cannot wait to write! Honestly, I'm super excited! Monday, I came straight home to sit myself on the sofa and start writing until my roommate came home. Yesterday, I was obsessed with the idea of coming home to write. Instead, I ended up doing a little cleaning around the house. However, this happens to be a common issue when I get pretty deep in writing. When I'm in deep, I lose track of the world and end up making a little island at my desk. When I get creatively blocked, I clean up, organize and can breathe again once it is back in order. I'm not as far as I typically am in my novel process but I feel that I'm just dusting off the cobwebs that occurred in the past from lack of writing. Today, my parents were at my house cleaning for my inevitable move-out (trust me, they want to get a head start). So, despite listening to the sugar in my veins, I help out cleaning, called my sister to give her a heads up about the parents and talked with my roommate. Now, I'm all settled comfortably on the sofa again, a dvd is queued up and I have a playlist of new music. I'm ready. I'm eager.

I live for these Sugarhigh moments. I am genuinely excited to write. This is my life. This is my love. And I don't want it to change.

So, do not fret if your writing starts to dwindle or you go through some serious droughts. My best friend went through a couple years with barely any writing spurts but she does have those boughs of writing energy. Life will get in your way. There is no way around it. Try your best to push yourself. Write something, anything. Write a blog. Write a journal. Write a diary. Write about how you cannot write. Write just a few short pages. Whatever it is, trust your heart. If you love it, you will not lose it. Just don't put pressure on it. Relax, smile and it will happen.

Sugarhigh in my veins again

I'm in a creative mood...which is actually surprising. A week ago, I was heartbroken thanks to my recent breakup. But, I realized fairly quickly that even after a breakup, I was ready to start writing. No, not working on my memoir about it just yet. But new story ideas that completely have nothing to do with my personal life. Maybe it is a way to break away from that storyline that is my real life? Possibly. But with everything seemingly back in place or in their new comfortable places, it seems like my writing is back on track. Sure, I'm working on some new things and I don't really foresee it as a book series let alone a novel, but I'm writing again. I'm devoted to it and I'm insanely in love with it. So what if they're just drabbles, just writings that I conjured up because I didn't want to pick up another story again? I'm inspired and running with it at full force.

Monday was actually not too bad. I went to work feeling that familiar sugarhigh buzz in my veins. I could not wait to sit down and write. I had no concept of where the story was going but I wanted to play in that world. Thank the event I went to Friday night where I relived my favorite movie on the big screen for the first time after meeting one of the film's actors whom I adore. Thank my amazing roommate for letting me spend time with him just vegging out on the couch while we watched British TV, Disney movies and ate homemade dinners of meatloaf and potatoes. Thanks to my ex-boyfriend who gave me some normalcy and friendship. Thanks to my best friend for sending me an IOU card for Chunky Monkey ice cream and love. Thanks for me for giving myself brownie points for being independent. Thanks to a long lost band who gave me inspiration, being rediscovered. Whatever it may be, I was able to write. I was able to explore. And I'm pretty excited for that fact.

I was concerned that somewhere in the 5 months prior to this, I would never write again. The experiment is still in progress on that one. But at least I know that it was not permanent.

Keep writing, writers. November is fast approaching and we eagerly await.

"It takes a lot of imagination to be a grown up"

To be a grown up, with a grown up job and responsibilities is a bit daunting. And if those priorities do not involve writing, then it becomes even more difficult. I use to want to be an author as a career. But I do believe that I would go stir crazy in my house all day all alone with a cat or dog or children running around my feet--whatever place I was in my life at the time. For me, writing was like breathing. I would write between (and sometimes during) classes. I would write with my friends. I would come home and watch movies and write. Let's be honest, my life was not that social or exciting. But it was my life and I enjoyed it.

Now that I have a desk job, you would think that writing would be a no-brainer. However, I'm stuck. Creatively, I'm bursting at the seams some days. But others, I'm stretched so thin with work that all I feel is exhaustion. I'm pretty sure that all of the writers in the world who have real grown up jobs, careers and lives feel just as over-whelmed as I do sometimes. But that's the price.

It's just finding a balance that we have to endure. Schedules and plans are my solution. That is, until I get a social life and then it all goes out the window. I spend more of my time trying to fit friends and relationships into the schedule rather than actually paying attention to what I want to do. I went to the library yesterday and they were eagerly thrilled that I was back after my hiatus. I was just renting movies but I'm getting back to my usual self. I'm reading again. I'm watching movies. And this weekend, I wrote! I've started scheduling my weekends with friends, deciding what nights I stay out and trying to devote myself better to my writing and my personal health. It's my life and I need to start figuring out what I want.

Just One Hour Of Writing Devotion

Today my roommate made me sit down and actually sit for an hour at my computer--no phone, no internet, no TV. One hour to write.

I thought I would sit and stare at that blinking line. Or I would find something to entertain my thoughts. Like, picking up the book on the edge of my bed and read the next chapter. Or sliding to the floor and playing with the sleeping puppies. Or decide that my pick-up job of my room should have become a reorganization and cleaning. But instead, I knocked out 2 1/2 pages of a new story or at least a new concept of a story. Not too shabby of the first three pages of a new story if I do say so myself. So, it's a start. Let's just pray that I keep it up! Blame it on the boyfriend or my serious grown up job or that I'm bummed out completely that my social circle ringleader just moved six hours away. Either way, you have to keep writing.

Always keep writing.

Writing SUCKS when you are completely blocked!

Like, we're talking like I feel so creatively constipated! It's not fair.It's a huge fear of mine coming somewhat true. It's when you spend so much time in the real world--focusing on your job and relationships with little time to really write or doing anything worth your emotions. I went to the mall today and finally got around to purchasing a few things that have been on my list for ages. I didn't have anywhere to be or anyone to see.

I think a big factor of my lack of writing is my emotions are so bipolar. I'm trying so hard to fight down the tears of the impending heartbreak that I don't want to write about it. I don't want to write about love. I don't have a muse. And I have 6 stories on my dry erase board just waiting to be picked up and finished. Not to mention, there are hours upon hours of programming to watch on my dvr and piles of books on my bookshelf. I don't have time anymore. My heart's not in it.

And this breaks my heart more than the future.
And as much as I try to push out something...I end up never getting comfortable in my seat or distracted by my thoughts. Or, I just end up falling asleep or going shopping.
W. T. F.!

Loss of Innocence

The term “Loss of Innocence” often too frequently seems to coincide with a loss of virginity. It is a vital literary term that I’m sure we as writers heavily involve. There’s always that one moment that changes our characters and turns their story. But, in all actuality, that situation of sex for the first time is fairly possible as one’s loss of innocence moment. There are moments in life that change your life dramatically. And typically, there is one pivotal moment that separates childhood from adulthood. One moment so significant, it changes your views, it changes your though process and completely flips your world upside down.

Get Me Off This Fucking Shelf!

I think a huge thing about being a writer is how empowering it is to control this universe that belongs solely to you. Now, I'm not saying that everything happens the way we initially intended. And I'm not saying we as writers are Gods. What I'm saying is that we have this ability to shift life by our fictional creations and mold their lives.

Nothing New

I haven't created anything new in what seems like a long time. Life gets in the way of writing and let me just tell you, that sucks royally. You can't blame anyone or anything but yourself and if you put too much pressure on it, you will become creativity blocked. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt and sold it at a rummage sale.

But I stand firm with the belief that you cannot force writing. Sitting at a computer screen's blank word document or a sheet of notebook paper with pen in hand or fingers hovering over the keys to gain inspiration. But living a full life of constant motion is not going to help it either. There has to be a balance.

Real Life Emotional Turmoil Isn't Always Creative Fuel

As a writer, our emotional turmoil gets penned down into our stories whether we let it on that it actually does or not. Sure, I never lost my best friend to a drunken high school party. I've never had four brothers nor have I slept with his best friend. I've never owned a bar or been the girl who gave her baby to her brother in secret. Those are my characters, close to my heart, and definitely not me. But what they represent, what they are experiencing, what their lives and souls are all about are me. The trouble is deciding between what to add and what to expand. That's the trouble with my 'Bar Story' as I've told you. It's difficult to decide what emotions to use and what to keep guarded. It's hard to pick the paths and plans for that story. Maybe in a few years I'll finally find it.

But as a writer, we also use these worlds we create as a place to escape. I don't want to be in my own life at times and I escape to a new town, new world, new life where I have a better control on what happens.
Today has appeared to be a hangover Saturday which would be true post-party if I was in fact hungover. However, it does not shield the fact that I have been in my head all day today whether I want to be or not. My mind cannot wrap around the concept of a previous discussion. I should write it down. I should turn it into a story, spin it and make sense of it. But the problem is that I don't want this for my characters. My stories often end in resolution and a sigh of relief. My characters would appear triumphant in the end but in this case, it is one of self-discovery and self-revelation. My character would have come to this conclusion and walked the path alone at the end.

Real life has consequences. And true emotions that muck up the situation and disrupt the calm. My heart breaks. I can say it all so much better as a writer than vocally. I'm not a storyteller by design. Writing is just another way to play house.

Creative Withdrawl

I think one of my biggest fears is that I won't be able to write. The sheer idea of losing my sight or the ability to compose words in the written form is daunting enough of a thought but to lose my creativity is unimaginable. Sure, we all get writer's block. And sometimes, I find myself struggling for weeks on end without a single bubble of creativity to speak of in my mind. But what if that was permanent? I think I would cease to exist, quite simply.

My writings are my babies and therefore, difficult to hand off into the world. I'm always worried about them being stolen or hated. It's irrational but it's there. I write for myself in the hopes that someday they will find their niche. But what do I write? I write about life. My novels, novellas, short stories and scripts are about life and love and loss and the dynamics of people. I have always been fascinated by psychology. I've never been one to analyze someone but the definitions of character is always appealing to study. I find the crazier, the more interesting. But my stories are focused on the development of the psychology.

For instance, my Alex's Best Girl script was a troubled one at first. The idea was planted into my head and originally a novel. But, thanks to Script Frenzy, it formed into an actual fully-functioning script. The idea was less of the psychology (because scripts obviously are about the actions rather than emotions). In the past couple of years, my stories have revolved various love triangles, secrets and tragedies. Lately, my favorite two of course involve a twist of timelines and underlining secrets. But those are the stories that take a lot out of a writer emotionally. Writing the past interwoven with the future, the sheer heartbreak of what has transpired between the two, it weighs you down. But the "bar story" concept is still too raw to describe as an unbiased author. I have tried to write it in three different novels. And last Nano I did try to recreate the Bar Story...while it did meet the count ahead of schedule, it still is not complete. This Script Frenzy, I tried to write the Bar Story...I'm so far behind with less than 30 pages and the deadline is Monday. So, I did not win this year which is horrible to think.

I live and breathe for my writings. When I find creativity, it is the best Sugar High anyone could ever ask for and I feel it bubble in my veins. What if I lose that love?

Writer + Coffee Shop = Love

Hello fellow writers!
It is a gorgeous Superbowl Sunday here in my little hometown. And today, I have found myself dragging one of my roommates out of his bed and going to the coffee shop with me. There is no coffee shop local to our house, which is very disappointing. The local coffee shop went under--although I have seen people inside working on it so we can only hope that it becomes something worthy and not a stupid fast food restaurant or another liquor store. Then again, when Starbucks came to our little south of the burbs, the competition beat it out and our coffee supply dried up. All we have to rely upon is one of the three McD's and a Duncan Doughnuts. There is not much for the writer community except an abandoned firehouse that has been converted into a frequent village hall for writers once a month. I have yet to find that haven.
So, a good 15 minute drive is just what the doctor ordered!
I love it here.
I use to work in a coffee shop, so walking up to the counter and ordering was like a second language. I barely remember what I ordered but it just danced off my tongue easily. And as we sit here, I am glad we found the last table at 11:20 this morning because as we sit here at 12:45, the place is bustling with activity. There are children, runners, couples and the number of netbooks, laptops and iPads are starting to dwindle to chattering people and rattling toys.
It will take some time to get comfortable to my groove here. I find the random music refreshing since it is unknown what we will hear. But with several favorites in the mix. I would have preferred a window seat or something hidden in the corner but this seat in the middle is just fine. I am able to sit comfortably and stare out the window at the beautiful sunny day outside. With car dealerships across the rather busy road, the sun glistens off the paint to only heighten the beauty of the sparkle and shine. It is busy and active. I love looking out the windows to see the uncommonly beautiful day. It is Superbowl Sunday in February and I feel more like eating a nice turkey club sandwich than a big hearty bowl of turkey chilli.

In another life, I want to own a coffee shop or at least live here. When I retire, I am going to live in a coffee shop. I love the sounds and smells. The world in my soul revolves a lot around the coffee shop.
Writer + Coffee Shop = Love
I want to be a regular.

Today is not a big burst of creativity today.
But it is just my mood and surrounding emotions. Nothing to do with the place.
I fear I'm going to change moods too much to focus on this story.
I love the coffee shop. I love being a writer.

A Writer's Nightmare

OMG Writers!
I had quite the nightmare that I'm sure most of you would cower in fear from!
So, it was a simple dream. It went fairly well and like most of my dreams lately, it seemed to be fairly coherent as to what was going on. Basically, my netbook, my flash drive of my current projects and a bag of my carry-on belongings were stolen! Not to mention, one of my roommates was furiously not allowing me into the house. So, I used my other roommate to distract him while I slipped inside and scrounged around for my belongings. I found Harry Potter: Deathly Hollows part 2 on DVD and quickly pocketed it. They had not pawned it from my bag yet. I could not find my netbook or flash drive anywhere. And as an author, that is one of the scariest feelings. My entire world is contained in that netbook. My life is living in that flash drive. You can't recreate your work because once you've lost it, it is hard to find the same words. Sure, it might make it better by restarting it, but it also, you lose that initial excitement of getting your first ideas out. I was heartbroken.
And then I realized that the two guys who stole my bag were now living in the other two rooms at our place. My roommate was a traitor! He had sided with them!
My sister could not distract the roommate long enough and he found me. He apologized for being so mean and not letting me into the house. I could feel myself starting to wake up. And at that moment, I saw the bag sitting off on the bookcase! My netbook, flash drive and Scream 4 were all there!
I woke up with relief...but a slight annoyance that I let my nightmare end so easily.
I pray I never lose my files again. I've only lost one story...and it is weak for it.
But I woke up and realized I back my shit up consistently. I have, like, a flash drive at work, a flash drive in my purse, my netbook is up to date and two external hard drives that have backups. Not to mention, the other flash drives and computers I own. I really hope I get the flash drive bracelet for Christmas.

Happy Writing, Writers.
And backup your files.

Starting Over After 100 Pages

I hit my deadline. 50k words in less than a month. I kept plugging along until I hit it.
And now, at 110+ words, I'm done.
I'm rewriting it all over again.

This novel I wrote in November is a shell of what I had hoped to write. It is more rushed and definitely not as dark as I had originally hoped. It was not the psychologically eating of my soul as I had anticipated. I did not mourn the situations or feel the hopeful but rabid butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Sure, it started out that way. The ideas always start out that way. But it was not the rough world that I had hoped to convey. And I was too nice. The vulgarity was limited because of my expected audience. The big "Fuck You" messages were watered down. And deep down, my characters were weak. They did not have the drive. They were too wishy-washy to commit. I love my characters. But it all somehow came unraveled.
This was not the novel I had committed to writing.

So, I start from scratch. I grab a handful of my characters, put them in fresh new clothes and give them life again. My focus needs to be more pin-pointed on them and not the outside world around me. They need to experience life, not merely live day-to-day. So, I'm starting it with a different spin. I'm snapping down more of my real life, casting out the maps and charts, plans and blogs. These characters are not me. But I have the experience. These situations are not mine. But what I have experienced can only heighten the reality of them. Enough ground work and symbolism. Enough trying to make everyone happy. This story is destined for greatness...I just lost that in the process of its previous incarnation. It's not Misfits but it revolves around similar situations. It will be dark. I will not hold back. You should never mess with an author.

Writing Because of a Restroom

It's funny how a lot of my inspiration comes to me when I'm walking into the women's bathroom at work. I am so not sure why that is the case, but it seems to be a time when my mind disconnects from work and just drifts. My heels click onto the tiled floor and I let the dim fluorescent lighting wash over me. My script a few months ago started out with a bathroom scene. "A familiar sound of urination" was a key phrase in the description. A phrase that gets quite a bit of attention. But it is so routine. And for my novel, I seem to pull a lot of my main MC's thoughts from my own when I walk into the bathroom. And no, my characters' lives do not revolve around the bathrooms. I rarely put them in the bathrooms--but it does happen more in this novel then in some. Only because bathrooms have recently pulled a lot of random thoughts. For instance, I walked into the bathroom one day to find that it was a group meeting room. Sure, women congregate in the bathroom in clusters to talk boys,  makeup and everything from tampons to lighting fixtures. I always find it intriguing when some of my friends talk on the phone while using the bathroom vs. the friends who are appalled to even have the phone near the bathroom. The head of our HR department at work frequently takes calls while she's in the stall--this I know only because she is a loud talker even a few stalls down. But the one thing that triggered it was when I made my MC have a similar viewpoint as me. She felt uncomfortable with the thought that so many women were gathered in the bathroom to talk at the counters while a few sat on the cushioned chairs and one even sat with her chair pulled outside someone else' stall.

I have no problem discussing bathroom issues only because it is so common. I remember when I was younger and girls would turn on all of the faucets and air dryers to mask the sounds. And, while I don't particularly feel comfortable hearing sounds coming from the stalls (regardless of which number you're doing), it is a natural thing. I also don't have a problem with friends using the bathroom while on the phone. I mean, sometimes, you're in the middle of a conversation that is too good to hold for and it risks peeing your pants. I get that.

But, I think it is odd that I pull a lot of ideas from that first second walking through the bathroom door. At least my novel is not taking place in the bathrooms. Instead, they take place in very specific spots. But the bathroom at work is always a thought-provoker and the bathroom at the bars is always a great segue/escape. I think that the main part is that when you walk into a bathroom, you're finally able to relax for a second. You stop thinking. And that, dear writers, is a blissful time for creation inspiration. ...I wonder if anyone's written a novel from their toilet...I might not want to know.

Novel's Midpoint Blues

Good morning, Sunshines!
It is that annoying midpoint time again and we all know what that can mean for a writer. If you're like me, you start off strong, going at your chapters and cutting them down in lightning speeds. I'm talking, a chapter a day almost! But, you start to lose steam. You lose your interest in the characters and their small-time problems, situations and thoughts. They bore you. And you're no longer playing in a fantasy world but now living someone else's life. A life that has consequences. You can't just walk into a bar and pickup a stranger because there are consequences. You can't spend a day at the beach because 1. there is no beach near this city and 2. your character would get fired from work. Work is boring and it's always the same people out at the bars. You don't want to bump up your character numbers and you have to finish one story arc before you hit the next one.

We dread the midpoint of writing novels. And so, here I sit, fellow writers and readers, stumped on what to do next. Pep Talks have been flying into my inbox--pushing, motivating and bragging. I don't find them encouraging at this point. I just want an answer! Where do I go from here? Or, more importantly, how do I push myself to the next step? I know my characters. I know what they want and what they are supposed to do next. But it's like I'm treading water.
I may just need to throw in a giant elephant into the story. Just throw it in there and cause a commotion. Make a big splash in the waves and shake up the story so it doesn't sound so boring and real life. Who wants to read about real life?!

I'm at 32k+ words. Working my way through chapter 6. Over 50 pages. And I've just added a piviotal character last chapter. And one of my main characters has had very little physical presence on my pages yet (because her big scenes are later in the book). Cue the aggrivated sigh of frustration.

I think I may work on something else. Can I do that? Can I step away for another day? I'm well ahead and while nothing is really inhibiting my muses, I feel compelled to dance in another world. I have been trying to find inspiration through other stories, other writers, music, TV and movies. But I think I need a breath of fresh air right now. Jump into it tonight or tomorrow.

Here's my progress so far:

Never Fuck With An Author

As you may or may not know, these past 12 months have been a rollercoaster of adventures and emotions. It has been insanely difficult for my writing process because I personally feel like I have been thrown into a blender at times. Nothing makes sense and my perception of reality has been skewed at some points. I believe that for this next novel, I will finally be ready to start using that to fuel my creative process. I feel that a warning needs to be announced prior to my start date. While I will not disclose my inspirations, I believe that a fair amount of vengeance will be resolved through this new novel. I believe that I have gone through this whole experience and after 12 months, I feel I am ready to use it. However, this may not be the case as I have tried this approach in the past. It may take more out of me than I can manage and a recoil could happen; this is always a possibility with dramatic writing. It all started nearly exactly a year ago and I believe that giving myself this much time to put the ideas into plans has been a success. The emotions have calmed down from last Halloween and I am stronger for it. My irrational thoughts have ceased from Thanksgiving and now I am wearing a parachute rather than jumping blindly off the cliff. I no longer have thoughts of what transpired over those thick months or what happened to start the rolling ball.

Instead, I wish to warn all those who have been in my life. What you have done has inspired me for better and worse. Loved me, hated me, wronged me, used me, abused me or gave me freedom…please note that you should never fuck with a writer. No one will get their own character because those muses are glued down. This novel will show off your true colors and prove to the world how empty your hearts have been. It will amplify your lame pickup lines, remind the world of your drunken attempts and reveal how shallow your friendship truly is to everyone. I will expose the truth while smiling in fiction. Nothing will be autobiographical or call you out directly. This world is a haven. Your lives are inconsequential. For every lover, former friend and confidant, I will keep your secrets safe but do not promise to keep your lies.
And while I explore all of the negative and positive energies in the past 12 months in terms of my social life, I will push my boundaries and explore my own emotions and turmoil. It might not run me as raw as some of you would like but I guarantee this will bare my soul in some small part. And as a writer, this is an exciting and stomach-turning time full of swinging emotions, physical discomfort and pure exciting energy.

The honest truth is that this will be a work of entire fiction. The situations heightened or decreased, the characters amplified. I will not disclose what is real and what was inspired. The trouble will be making sure to blend the good and bad. In truth, I emphasize your flaws, harness the emotions that swirl and heightened the good I wished you had been.
I love Duncan with all of my heart. Your muse has guided me through. And I feel like I’m falling in love again.
And in the next four weeks, look forward to the first bold chapters of my new novel: “Like Seeking Revenge on an Ex”
You have been warned.

Cafe-au-Lait

I don't normally drink coffee anymore. Look it up. The Mystery of the Caffeinated Me is quite a fun true story. But now that November is quickly approaching (not fast enough because my creative fingers are dancing over the keyboard in anticipation), I feel that coffee inspiration is like a kick to jumpstart my creativity. Even with a splash of caffeine in my decaf coffee, I'm inspired.

I rearranged my desk this weekend--twice. Originally, it sits in my bedroom, facing the wall under the vast window. I feel boxed in some days. I have to twist and turn to look behind me and see any form of life. Completely turning it around with my back to the window proved to make me feel trapped and constricted nevermind the fact that anyone walking into my room acts as if they are stepping into an office and they ask me for a raise. Next step? Sit beside the window and stare at the closet door. It works. I was able to pound out 5 pages this weekend. It is a very small start but I'll take it!

Now, I must sit on my hands before November. Let's hope the coffee keeps me from scribbling out "ideas" which turn into chapters. Ha!