Hello. Day 8 brings me to an intersection of sorts. I need to get back to writing that Irish story of mine and man, oh man, is the universe shouting at me to do so, but Real Life has been taking some of that time. (I’m worried that pretty soon the ‘shouting’ is going to transition into more of a ‘beating mercilessly to pound the hint into my thick skull’ kind of event…) And know I need to pull on my cowgirl boots (of which I do have several pair) and do it. For so many reasons, but the strongest being I love it. No, I *adore* this story and these crazy kids who are trying to find their way into a HEA. They are both damaged and scarred and so freaking close to giving up everything to make the pain go away that I can’t not write them. Yes, you noticed it’s on the darker side (more like BROKEN than some of my other, lighter attempts) and I’m beginning to learn where I’m very happy in the lighter world, the darker makes my pulse beat and my breath quicken in a way that the lighter can’t. So I need to work on this Irish story and make myself happy. Period.
(And don’t even get me started thinking about the dark book I want to write after this. *shudders and makes little whimpering noises* I am one fucked up girl. Oh, yes indeedy, I am.)
So what else? I’ve bookmarked the Robin Hobb and the Prague Executioner books and picked up a Merry Gentry. Needed a guaranteed comfort read and she’s one of mine in that category. Sometimes I get mad at myself because there are so many books I want to read and I feel like I should be casting my net wide rather than revisiting old friends, but there’s just something about a guarantee, you know? But then I tell myself I’m doing pretty good with the flinging-the-net-wide and to let myself up. At least I’m reading. Books good, right? I’ll pick the Hobb up again soon and am looking forward to where she’s going to go.
And now, to end today’s post, some thoughts that made me smile.
See you tomorrow.