…even though I have five or six unfinished ones sitting on my hard drive. I also have three or four finished but still waiting for critique ones.
So what do I do?
Start another one.
My husband doesn’t understand. “Why don’t you finish the one you were just working on? Aren’t you on chapter five or six?”
“Writer’s block,” he suggested.
“Not really,” I replied. “It’s kind of like that but it’s not. I know what I want to happen but I don’t know how to get to the end. I changed the plot of this book a few times.”
“Don’t you have a few other incomplete ones? Why don’t you just pick one of those and finish it?”
“None of them want to be finished yet.”
The blank look on his face was almost funny.
“None of those characters are talking to me right now,” I added. “This new one is pretty much writing itself. I actually plotted this one out. Winning His Daughter is stuck on chapter six. And it took me almost a month to finished chapter five. I’ve all ready written over 20,000 words on the new one, and I know how I want it to go.”
“Did they have sex yet?”
My husband’s favorite part of my books. “Not yet.”
“They’re not ready yet.”
His eyes glazed over at that comment.
Does any non-writer understand?
Just because– I’ve cut and paste the first page of my newest book. I just love these characters. I haven’t fingered out a name for this romance yet, but it’ll come to me. I hate deciding on titles.
All she wanted to do was dry her clothes.
Angie Weaver held a load of wet things in her hands, turning toward the dryer when the older woman rushed in and pushed her aside. She watched with an opened mouth as the woman set her basket full of wet clothing on the top of the dryer and begin to throw pieces into its opened door.
Her dryer. “I was using that.”
The woman didn’t even look at her.
She looked up at her now. “Did you say something?”
“I was putting my clothes in that dryer.”
She shrugged. “Too late now.”
The woman placed quarters into the slots and started the tumbling motion. “There’s another one over there.” Pointing to the far end of the roll, she added, “That one is just as good.”
“Than why didn’t you use it?” Angie whispered.
“I wanted this one.”
Angie sighed. Gathering up her armload of clothes against her wet front, she moved toward the end of the roll. Oh, why do I always give in to bullying people like
My heroine hates confrontation. But don’t worry the hero shows up on the next page and helps her out.
Well, actually he just teases her.