#Burned

Currently Reading: Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand and A Storm of Swords (Song of Fire and Ice book 3) by George R.R. Martin

Books Read: 10

TBR List: 4999

Words Written:

 

Well the new year is off to a good start writing and reading wise. I haven’t made many new posts on here though. I also haven’t written anything more on Finding Family. So I’m feeling a bit bad on the resolutions I made.

I’m also beginning to feel burned out with my writing again. I don’t know if it is I’ve just been putting too much into this one story I’ve started, my meds have stopped working or what but I’m having issues continuing writing for the past couple of days.

Upside though, I have two books very close to publishing. I think that is a good start to the year. More than last year.

I have picked out the book I’m going to work on for Camp NaNoWriMo in April. I would just like a better title for it, but I kind of love the title I have picked out at the same time.

Death to all #PlotBunnies

It is #NaNoWriMo, and all of a sudden these evil little Plot Bunnies are attacking me. In the past 16 days I have started not one, but THREE new stories on top of the 13 I have already been working on! Yes, the other day I finished one that I have been working on for the better part of two years but still! The total is now 15 and I have a feeling it is not going to get smaller, but grow before the month is over.

#FindingFamily Chapter IV

Carefully I skip down the stairs to the restaurant, admittedly giddy and loving the feel of the long wool coat flapping on the back of my legs.

Worry crosses my face when I see just how fancy the place was and how under dressed I am in an old black mini skirt, stiletto heels and a newer dusky-green tee-shirt. “I’m sure whatever you are wearing under my coat is fine.” I heard him whisper in my ear.

I jumped, “Mr. Barrowman, can you hear now?”

He chuckled, “Yes, they took out the hearing devices about an hour ago.” He glanced at his watch.

He placed a hand on my back, “This really wasn’t necessary, I appreciate it immensely but really not required.” I started rambling on, I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Anytime my colleagues get chewed out by someone trying to help me, I have to take them out.” His easy going demeanor was relaxing my nerves and I was starting to realize he really is just a sweet normal person.

“Oh no, they told you? I’m sorry. They just ticked me off and I flew off the handle, if I need to I can go back and apologize.”

“No need for that, they needed the wake up call and I’m glad I got to see someone stand up to them for those who are afraid or unable to.” John ordered us each a Beef Wellington, after being talked out of shrimp as I am allergic, and a bottle of Medoc red wine. “So what is your story? How did you end up on that crosswalk tis morning?”

“It’s not pleasant dinner conversation Mr. Barrowman.” I smiled weakly and sipped the delicious wine.

“John, please, and I think  that someone like you would have an interesting story.” He gave me his gorgeous grin and  my crumbling resolve was falling faster than a bowling ball two inches off the ground.

“Umm…not much to tell really, grew up in Missouri, a very small town. My parents should have never been together, volatile is the word that comes to mind with those two. Saved up my money, graduated high school and got admitted to Oxford. Those are the highlights.” I chugged my glass and refilled it in the awkward silence.

“What happened to your mom?” he asked quietly, his demeanor changed from his happy usual self to one of solemn.

Suddenly my seat was uncomfortable, I squirmed around. “umm… my…father kind of a took care of her two months ago. He is in prison now.” I keep my eyes focused on the white table cloth, picking at imaginary threads.

“I’m sorry. You are right, not a good dinner talk. I’m sorry you’re father was an arse. It sounds like it is behind you now and you are rising up from the ashes.” It was is turn to squirm. He was changing the subject, “What are you going to study at University?”

“Music. I’m pretty good with a cello, but I would like to be a classical music professor.” I feel the blush rising in my face, I’m still embarrassed about my choice of career. “My family has never thought of it as a good choice, but it’s where I want to be.

“Are you just into classical music or do you like other music?” He must have noticed that it was a touchy subject and tried to change it.

We talked for four hours through the great dinner and the most amazing chocolate lava cake ever. After he helped me put my coat on, he called for a car and decided to escort me back to the hostel.

 

Tune in next week for Chapter Five and don’t forget to like my Author page for updates on this and more!

Creative Writing Classes

Yay! I’ve started my first creative writing class. I have never been more scared in my life. I can’t speak for other authors, but for me I’ve always been scared to put my work out there. I remember the first day I nervously put my first book, Touchdown Interruption, I was shaking so bad. Watching Amazon flip my book from the preparing stage, to published was agonizing. Then of course when it didn’t sell, self doubt and depression started to sink in. Eventually it did sell and I was in a happy little bubble. Until the time came for my second and third books to come out. Each time my bubble being popped a little earlier as I thought about working on the next book.

What does this have to do with my class? I mean none of this anxiety comes with turning in my assignments. Now I have to write on cue and the writing isn’t researched based. Our first assignment is writing a poem illustrating imagery of something in our surroundings. I have written a poem, but I don’t know if it is good enough. I don’t know for sure if it is what the teacher is looking for. To me it meets the sparsely stated requirements but that’s because I wrote it. I know the imagery I’m trying to convey, so rereading it brings the images I want. I think this class is going to kill me.