The Not-So-Interesting Life of Me (Right Now)

My life is so boring. Sigh.

So, Dear Josaline, is going well. First chapter is up on Hexbound (CLICK HERE) so check it out. Um, the play I'm in is on in less than two weeks and I'm freaking out. We are so not ready. I can't even.

I've been dealing with some interesting things lately--first-time experiences and whatnot. I have to say . . . it's nice. Really nice. A warm kind of nice.

Gosh, this post is not about writing and is really boring. To make up for lack of post, I'll gave you a snippet of chapter two:

The funeral was probably the exact same as any other funeral. A coffin. A person in it. A hole. Then the coffin gets put down the hole and it’s covered with dirt.

            “Josaline will be missed by all her friends. I know that I feel a bit lost without her,” some man in a grey suit said. Did he even know her?

            “Josaline was my best friend,” a woman with frizzy blonde hair said, her rectangular glasses sliding down her nose.

            Josaline was nothing of the such, I wanted to say. Josaline didn’t care about you; she probably barely ever spoke to you. I bet someone paid you to speak, or you feel bad for her orphan son.

            “Robert, do you want to say anything to your mother before we end the service?” Karen asked from beside me. She organised the funeral. I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t really care.

            “What would I have to say about our dear Josaline?” I said. I didn’t intend to come out like that—like an attack—but it did.

            Karen sighed. Over the past three days she’d realized I’m quite hostile. She didn’t like it one bit.

            “Look, Robert, it’s going to be your last chance to say a proper goodbye. Just do it.” Karen’s hand was on my back, pushing me up towards the coffin. I turned around and found myself staring eye-to-eye with twenty-or-so people. Josaline definitely did not know all of them.

            I hated staring at them.

            I closed my eyes.

            “Josaline was my mother. And she was . . .” I didn’t know what to say, so I turned around. I opened my eyes and looked down at the coffin. Josaline lay inside there. They had put some make-up on her and had covered her neck with a nice light-blue scarf. The one she’d worn to the opening of the art gallery I’d had a piece of work in.

            “Josaline liked art,” I said, directing it more to myself than everyone else. They all laughed for some reason. “I’ll miss her scarf.”

So . . . yeah. Bye!

End Of My Hiatus

Sorry I've been gone so long! School and personal stuff kinda got the best of me. I'm back now, though, and I'm hoping to stay for a good while. At least for a few weeks. School might stop me from posting every week (which is my goal), but we'll see.

While on my hiatus I realized two things: I can't write dystopians, I haven't been writing for myself, and I need to channel my feelings into my writing more. That's three things. I'm stupid today. Whatever.

So, the dystopian thing. Yeah, I'm just not clever enough right now to think up all the necessary things that a dystopian world (especially the one in Blind) needs. So, that's either scrapped forever or I'll try a re-write in the far future. But because I love Izaac so much, he's going to be in one of my new novels. I don't have a title for New Novel yet, but I'll post about it soon when I know more.

I realized I haven't been writing for myself--to get my feelings and thoughts out on paper, because I love it, because it's my passion and hobby. No, I've been writing because I felt obligated. People were saying stuff and, yeah, I just felt pressured . . . But now I'm going back to writing for myself.  Which is good. Epiphanies help me.

And the third thing: the feelings. I have a lot of feelings. Mostly dark and depress-y. And they always need to be unleashed in some creative way--usually it involves really dramatically silently singing to a song in my bedroom. But it used to be writing. Oh, how it used to be my writing. It would feel SO good just to throw everything I was feeling into a scene and just . . . just get it out somewhere. And I hope to start doing that again.

My hiatus is over now, hopefully. I want to post once a week--not set days, but just at least one day a week. It'll probably mostly be on weekends. I have a lot of stuff to post--new ideas, talking about the Inkies (my writer friends from a site that sadly shut down), and Hexbound (<<

*EDIT* Some of the freaking post got deleted. Not a lot, but still. I had pressed Save like four times just to make sure it would be saved. T.T