I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!
January 3, 2016
Question for other writers: have you ever had the kind of writer’s block where a character you’re “mad about” stops talking to you because you’ve dallied with another story? And then he comes back, full-blown and talking about reconciliation and moving forward?
Confession: I have been unfaithful to the (come to think about it, I may want to rename the lot of them, come to think of that. Sounds almost like I’m selling Encyclopedia Britannica rather than a reincarnation love story). I’ve written a supernatural anti-romance (chapters to follow in the coming weeks as I edit it) and am working on a Native American-themed mystery. And Joseph Lindsay stopped talking to me sometime last summer. I missed him, pompous ass that he could be.
Then yesterday, the first day of the New Year settling in on my weary brain, I dozed during a La Liga game (sorry, Atletico Madrid!). The game went away, the blanket and pillows I dozed with went away and there he was: hair black as a raven’s wing, eyes the color of a June sky before a storm, and ash-smudged lips curled up into a mocking smile. And the laugh – that up and down, roller-coaster, pompous ass laugh!
I won’t quote the conversation (to quote another time-bound lover that I admire: Spoilers!), but we talked. And I listened. And I learned.
I remember noting in a very early, very raw entry that I said Ben Ashe/Joseph Lindsay seemed to be driving the second part to this story, . And so it seems he still wishes to do so. So we shall try. I have the other piece to work at, but some things will have to give.
Or I shall run mad into an endless night.
HOWEVER, I do have one major question, especially for the writers and any male readers I may have:
WHY is so much of what Joseph is describing and inspiring me to write about sex, or at least expressed in sexual context?
Now, I understand that, if you haven’t gotten any in, say, the last hundred years, getting laid might be pretty much uppermost in your masculine mind, but good grief! My Puritanical upbringing in memory form is sending up fireworks.And I’m laughing. Not sure what or how to do with it all, but I’m laughing. And learning.
And so I’ve signed myself up for a year of writing insanity…again. And I can’t wait.