You know that part where you grimly hate your story, you seem to do nothing except stare at a word doc (Okay, pages document) and everything that drivels out of your brain is basically brain-mush? (FUNNY, THAT.) Yep, I’m here. Me and Karma Police, we’re here.
*repeated banging of head against table*
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY DID I EVER THINK THIS WAS A GOOD STORY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????????????????????
Fortunately, none of my alpha readers seem to actually be reading the story. So I chortle madly over my computer and make extravagant promises to myself to fix it before they reach it. It’ll be GOOD, see? Only far, far in to the future. FARRRRRR into the future. Hehehe. Maybe when I’m old and gray and have fourteen cats, a fragile plant and a ferret. Then it’ll be done and I can let it out into the world again. Hehehehe.
Seriously though. When I’m planning a story? I REALLY need to keep it more cheerful. Anytime I decide I need to add comic relief by throwing in a teenage marriage, things are going wrooooooong. Also, lol unintentional sketch. You’d think by marrying a guy off things would be less prone to awkwardness? No, that only counts when the character is not as GIFTED with awkwardness as mine are. It’s a gift, really.
And I got Hex Hall and War Of the Flowers and Nova War and Hundred Thousand Kingdoms in the mail today, along with others, and I really really want to hole up with them and some tea and never come out no more. But I’m not allowed until this draft is done.
My life is AAAAAAAAAGONYYYYYYYYYY. *abject weeping*