For the last 3 weekends I’ve been sick. Usually 12 hours of my own bodies special hell that has put a damper on my mood. Hopefully soon I will have some answers and it’s nothing serious.

Once upon a time when I was feeling scared, sad, mad or any other strong emotion, I used those feelings to write. It pisses me off that I’m unable to tap into those things anymore. Fixing my health and my brain chemistry has had an effect on my writing. I open my laptop every day and just stare at the blank screen. Willing the words to come and if and when they do, I hate every single one I manage to get down.

I question every sentence, every paragraph and every idea. Does this sound realistic? Would a man ever think that, or feel that? Would my heroine trust so easily? At the height of my writing, I tended to write some dark, emotional stuff. At this point I don’t want to write dark, tormented kind of romances. I don’t want it to be angst ridden.

I’m going to try my hand at something lighter, maybe with some humor. Something easy and fun. I’ll never write the next great American novel nor do I want to. Writers, a hell of a lot more gifted than I’ll ever be were destroyed by the demons they rode when creating their works. I have ZERO interest in that.

I’ve told myself that I couldn’t get anything done because I didn’t believe in the romance aspect of what I was writing. What I realize now is that I don’t HAVE to believe it can really happen but only need to believe that it’s not an impossible thing. Just because I may not experience certain things, feeling etc…doesn’t mean that most people don’t.

It’s easy to forget that I’m  in charge of my words and if I listen and let the characters tell me their story then I can take my own experiences and beliefs out of the equation. My disappointments, my negative feelings toward certain things doesn’t have to be a part of my characters.

I used to put some pieces of people I knew into those characters. I’m hoping like hell this may help me get out of the fucking desert I’ve been in for years now. I looked back and I haven’t finished anything new in 3 yrs. 3 fucking years of feeling like an absolute failure and I’ve reached the point where I’m just fucking sick of it.

No more over analyzing every word and instead just write for fun. Write because the characters living in my head want a story of their own, not be laden down with my anger issues, my insecurities, my hurt, my love, or my beliefs on life.

I think I’ve tried so hard to “keep it together” that I’ve become frozen and it’s time for a fucking thaw. There’s too much to be written. So I’m going to really give it a shot. Keep it light, keep it cute and most of all keep it about love.



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