(Typing on the phone in may car)
The strength it took her to get up that day was like being choked by that one horrible man. Her bed faced the window and as the light came through her curtains, she wished she purchased those blackout curtains so the Ray’s of light couldn’t penetrate her demons.
“What demons?”, she whispered as if those words were meant to be secret. If she was referring to the demons in her head, true darkness would only make them more ghoulish and “monster under the bed like.”
Or if referring to her demons as her relationship then couldnt she just sleep with the next man, get over him then be the one that chokes the other until almost dead?
“Hmmm what an entertaining idea.”
She looked at the clock and knew that it had to be done even though the weight of it all made her feel frozen.
Slowly she lifted her head, shoulders, back off the bed as she sat for a moment and rested her bare feet on what felt hard and immovable. She looked down and smiled as she sat for a moment knowing that the clock was a minute more then it was a moment ago.
“Dont worry, demon I’ll be gentle!”
As she stepped her full weight down she felt him jerk at the pain that was caused to him not moments before she fell asleep.
And as she found the strength to face her demon one last time, she felt her hands on her sore neck and knew that she would heal one day.
So a little treat for any readers that are out there since I failed to successfully post every day, week or month.
Just came home, successful day at editing and decided that I would write examples of how I write here…. starting tomorrow because anything i write tonight will be misspelled, mistook and misunderstand by schlors and children alike…
So right now I say goodnight and that tomorrow brings awesomesness…
But question for all of you all is this, I like to write different genres, same genre, isn’t that boring?
These are one of the days I hate. Its the day, I go to the job that pays the bills, make dinner, have multiple arguments with child, eat, wash up and bedtime. Don’t have much time to write and all the while my main character calls to me for her story to get written. On a constant pause and all the while I feel that she and also he are looking at me, wondering what the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I write on the days that I go to work?
I am working hard to finish my book but its never quick enough. I feel time go by so quickly and then its time to make appointments, clean, see my mom, do the schedule for my son. Its like I just started writing and then the time is up, I love it though. I love how many pages that I complete by the end of that, what I believe to be, short time. The adrenaline of seeing my characters in action in my mind as I play out their story.
But here is my dilemma, I am not young anymore. Is it stupid to think I can make a career of writing when I am this old? Yes Yes, its never too late but as Ive said before I have wasted so much time with excuses.
I guess today’s lesson is…. Don’t waste time.. Make time on what you love
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton