It's no secret that I'm chipping away, slowly but surely, at my own novel. It's the most difficult, infuriating, and frustrating thing in the world, but it's also the most rewarding as I read and edit each week, amazed that I'm actually, finally, doing this. You know how life gets in the way ~ most welcomed ~ sometimes. Family, friends, pets, house, bills, job... I've stopped trying to plan when I'm going to sit down and write. Now, I just sit back, go one with my daily life and wait until the inspiration hits. It's always unexpected, that little jolt of creativity that whispers messages in my ear. Suddenly, I have a thought in my head that I have to write down or risk being driven to insanity.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm not a little crazy with all these imaginary characters running around inside my mind, doing what they will, living a story that I'm compelled to put into words. But you know what? It doesn't really matter, because I wouldn't have it any other way...
So where am I going with all this? I'm sure you've noticed the title of this post mentions 'soul baring,' and in a sense, that's what I'm going to be doing. I plan on posting excerpts, maybe a couple paragraphs, nothing too revealing, just to, hopefully, get some feedback, good or bad or whatever!
I hope this will be a weekly thing for me, and please, if you're a writer and want to help me start a tradition, a meme, whatever you want to call it.. create your own Sunday Soul Baring post. If you do, I hope you'll post a comment with a link :)
Here's a little piece of my passion:
I clenched my jaw in a feeble attempt at maintaining my fortitude. The incessant pounding of my heart betrayed my mind. I was fighting a losing battle within myself as he stood on the other side of the room, watching me intently, waiting for me to make the move that could change our lives forever. I glared at the floor, determined…to what? I didn’t even know why I was fighting him, fighting myself, anymore. I attempted to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. How had it come to this? No matter what I did, I couldn’t outrun him.
After what felt like an eternity, I met his patient, darkening eyes. The look on my face must have resembled defeat, desire, desperation. He reacted instantly and before I could break our connection, he was standing in front of me, a complex combination of emotions flitting across his face. His brows drew together, and with a pained expression, he took my hands in his, concentrating on that touch rather than looking me in the eye. Suddenly, I was confused, almost amused, rather than conflicted. This arrogant man, this man with all the confidence in the world, was unsure of himself, afraid of rejection. What was happening to us?
Thanks for visiting!
Happy Reading (and Writing) Everyone :)
~ Keely ~