Writer’s Block

Hello to all!

(Seriously, has anyone ever thought of all the strange ways we say hello these days?)

This post is called Writer’s Block because that is precisely what I am supposed to have right now.

We all know the signs right?

  1. Blurred plot lines
  2. Reading your last two chapters over and over again
  3. “checking” your emails and facebook again for the third time that night because obviously someone must have just written you something important…
My biggie fantasy novel “Silver Hollow” is at its climax, the crux scene which everything else balance beams over. So I got a little psyched out about screwing it up lol.
Goodbye good streak!
Hello writer’s block!
The last time I had a writer’s block like this was when I was on perpetual page 98 for like two months! What did I do in those two months? Wrote “Qeya: a Heaven’s Edge novella” of course!
I used to do this when I wrote books for my friends and not the masses, hop from one book to the other. I just figured it was important to keep writing no matter what, right? Well my friends, needless to say, were a little perterbed and thrown off by my split personality writer’s disorder. And I swore from then on, “one at a time babe” lol.
This time is no different. 
I’ve come to a fork in the road, or the two doors leading to death or life and the only clue you get is from a stupid lying frog (10K reference anyone?) 
Okay so all that being said…
I picked up another one of my little side projects that I was pretty sure would just end up being a little novella like Qeya…
Oh boy I was wrong!
It turned into something I’m kind of addicted to write, compelled to finish! Looks like I’ll be pub’ing again before we know it!
Here is a little blurb:
The wave guides me upon the porch, upon the whitewashed cottage, mere inches before them I stand now upon the railing, arms spread wide. I brace myself and color fills the space between me and them. Their eyes wide with wonder, the air shimmers as though lit with a thousand tiny stars. Time stands still between us, as it rushes madly outside of the color, of the captured air. 
And the hurricane pounds against my back my body trembles with the effort. 
Yet the curse fills me once again and despite the pain, the sting I do not stop. 
Eventually they will answer when others ask that they cannot remember what happened when the hurricane came to take them. They will push the memory of me away until it is nothing more than a vague dream. 
 “Cursed”, he once said, striking his words upon me to satisfy his own anger, his fears. I will be with him forever, he says, yet not in the way I wanted. 
Always I am doomed to walk the earth, the seas, to find the others, to find love and protect it. The one emotion and joy I can never feel again I am cursed to preserve at all costs. Always I will watch and never touch. Always I will remain until I am freed. 

Desperate for more? I sure hope so!

Until then, wait and see!



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