memos to me

I’m trying to organize my life. It’s going rather poorly. I’m trying to write every day. I’m failing rather spectacularly. How is it that I can sit and plan and write reminders and yet hours/days/weeks will pass and I have yet to strike through one thing on my to-do list? Writing feels as naturally asContinue reading “memos to me”

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The Beautiful Masochism

Writing is painful. It’s like dragging yourself across hot coals or yanking at thorned vines interlaced in your skin. It’s flaying your soul open and poking at mottled bruises to remember what the ache feels like. It’s staring at a computer screen or blank sheet of notebook paper and seeing the story unfold in yourContinue reading “The Beautiful Masochism”

Practice Makes For Perfect Procrastination

I’m still cranking through the sequel and it’s getting to be almost torturous. The moments where words seem to flow naturally are interspersed with coffee breaks and Tumblr posts and GoT marathons. I’m so easily distracted that when I finally sit down to write, my fingers seem rigged with lead. It’s like chicken pecking andContinue reading “Practice Makes For Perfect Procrastination”

An Unwilling Addict

Sometimes, I wonder if I was meant to be a writer. There are days like today when I sit down in front of my computer, staring at the blank cage, fingers hovering over the keys, and there’s nothing. No flutter in the back of my mind, no knotting in my gut, no tingle that runsContinue reading “An Unwilling Addict”

Spinning Wheels and Choking on Dust

I’m playing the waiting game and I hate it. I haven’t heard back from any agents (it takes 6-8 weeks, my rational brain reminds me) and I can’t seem to drum up any enthusiasm to write. Which is the most frustrating and the most frightening. I have so many unfinished ideas that don’t seem toContinue reading “Spinning Wheels and Choking on Dust”

Of Deadlines and the Undead

I woke up this morning, discovered it was April, and promptly flattened my face into the pillow. Seriously, Time, can’t a girl catch a break? I’ve been rambling forward for weeks now, a zombie only surviving through caffeine and Archer reruns as I balance school and work and editing this 200 page manuscript that reallyContinue reading “Of Deadlines and the Undead”

The Beautiful Masochism

Writing is painful. It’s like dragging yourself across hot coals or yanking at thorned vines interlaced in your skin. It’s flaying your soul open and poking at mottled bruises to remember what the ache feels like. It’s staring at a computer screen or blank sheet of notebook paper and seeing the story unfold in yourContinue reading “The Beautiful Masochism”