Maybe we just blame it on the music?
A side effect of writing - I'm an emotional wreck.
I've always expected more of myself.
My characters are communicating behind my back...
It was bound to happen - why can't I let it go?
So many things are not as binary as we think they are.
I finally worked up the courage to see my mom in the rest home.
Sad stories speak to us on a different level.
I love how C.S. Boyack has bits where he plays with his characters. I hope to be going through this same experience soon – probably with as much anxiety as well…
I got to the writing cabin early this morning. So early, Lisa was still recharging her batteries.
I wasted no time heading for my office, but Lisa intercepted me at my computer, at least her voice did.
“I need another hour of juice.” Her voice came from the speakers. “I’ve never seen you so early before. I sent a command to the coffee pot to start brewing, but you’ll have to give it twelve minutes and eighteen seconds to brew.”
Doubt, the raven, watched me with his malignant gaze. He spread his ebony wings and glided over to the desk.
I loaded my manuscript, chose some keywords, added a cover.
“Blork, pik, pik.”
I think that means how much I suck, but could not be dissuaded.
I winged it when it came to the blurb. I always do this, and really should spend a month getting it just right. For…
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The unconscious can fuel our creativity, but it needs quiet time.