Books 29 and 30 proving impossible!
Impossible to find time to write, that is! I'm about a third of the way on each, with great goals for finishing them by mid-July. Right now, with essays, and edits from 3 different publishers, it seems impossible.
It's funny how writing can almost be a chore when that's all you're doing. Oh, you enjoy it, but you're also acting like the disciplined, determined author you need to be to succeed...and the blank page can loom rather dauntingly before you.
Then comes the time when you're doing everything book related except writing, and then you can't wait to get back to it. It looms as the goal - the treat waiting for you.
Have 3 more essays for Uni over the next week. Today, though, it's edit day. Get it out of the way, then start in on an essay. If I'm lucky, I'll have writing time at the end of the week. Sigh...
Either that, or I go back to my morning 1000/day. Actually, that sounds like a good plan - just to keep things moving.
An excerpt from The Hollowing. Coming to you from Cerridwen Press, later this year:
Merv tossed a photograph onto the table, then another, and another.
In front of Shawn’s face. Where he couldn’t avoid looking.
Where he couldn’t avoid seeing...
Gooseflesh tightened on his arms and legs, then danced down his back. “They’re not mine,” he said.
But they were. This room. This house.
These were pictures of The Hollowing—the same thing he felt at nights, when he awakened anchorless from screaming dreams.
And in a moment of near-adult wisdom, Shawn suddenly understood his stepfather’s revulsion. No wonder he hates me...
The Hollowing was a bleak and empty hole; a crater which threatened to suck him in. It was that moment of wakefulness when his nightmares were still real, and his world was filled with despair.
His eyes focussed on the nearest photo, and he swallowed convulsively. This Hollowing wasn’t empty. He’d filled it somehow.
The woman was dead. She was lying there, in the centre of their lounge, a shadow with far too much substance. What was even more horrifying was the way the angle of her body had changed as the photographer had shifted around the room. She was a 3D image imposed on a 2D medium.
Merv picked up the photos and threw them and the negatives into the fire. Shawn tore up the stairs and grabbed his camera. Then, before he could think about it, he tossed the camera into the flames, too.
It was the first time he and Merv had agreed on anything.
Happy Reading!
ND/Melody
http://www.NDHansen-Hill.com | http://MelodyKnight.com
Five Star, Fictionwise, Cerridwen Press, Linden Bay Romance
It's funny how writing can almost be a chore when that's all you're doing. Oh, you enjoy it, but you're also acting like the disciplined, determined author you need to be to succeed...and the blank page can loom rather dauntingly before you.
Then comes the time when you're doing everything book related except writing, and then you can't wait to get back to it. It looms as the goal - the treat waiting for you.
Have 3 more essays for Uni over the next week. Today, though, it's edit day. Get it out of the way, then start in on an essay. If I'm lucky, I'll have writing time at the end of the week. Sigh...
Either that, or I go back to my morning 1000/day. Actually, that sounds like a good plan - just to keep things moving.
An excerpt from The Hollowing. Coming to you from Cerridwen Press, later this year:
Merv tossed a photograph onto the table, then another, and another.
In front of Shawn’s face. Where he couldn’t avoid looking.
Where he couldn’t avoid seeing...
Gooseflesh tightened on his arms and legs, then danced down his back. “They’re not mine,” he said.
But they were. This room. This house.
These were pictures of The Hollowing—the same thing he felt at nights, when he awakened anchorless from screaming dreams.
And in a moment of near-adult wisdom, Shawn suddenly understood his stepfather’s revulsion. No wonder he hates me...
The Hollowing was a bleak and empty hole; a crater which threatened to suck him in. It was that moment of wakefulness when his nightmares were still real, and his world was filled with despair.
His eyes focussed on the nearest photo, and he swallowed convulsively. This Hollowing wasn’t empty. He’d filled it somehow.
The woman was dead. She was lying there, in the centre of their lounge, a shadow with far too much substance. What was even more horrifying was the way the angle of her body had changed as the photographer had shifted around the room. She was a 3D image imposed on a 2D medium.
Merv picked up the photos and threw them and the negatives into the fire. Shawn tore up the stairs and grabbed his camera. Then, before he could think about it, he tossed the camera into the flames, too.
It was the first time he and Merv had agreed on anything.
Happy Reading!
ND/Melody
http://www.NDHansen-Hill.com | http://MelodyKnight.com
Five Star, Fictionwise, Cerridwen Press, Linden Bay Romance
posted by ND Hansen-Hill at 2:21 PM
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