I Think I Shall Live

I have a story idea.


I’m not going to share it here, because I’m paranoid.

Even so, I’m beyond thrilled. I’ve been trying so hard to fix my brain so I could be somewhat creative again. I think the stress going on in my life right now just completely sucked out everything important to me. As if it killing my health and happiness wasn’t enough. The sadistic bastard needed to steal my writing as well.

Thanks, stress. Thanks.

Anyway, I had an idea yesterday! To keep it from jumping out of my head like everything else did, I just started talking about it. By this, I mean I would talk about it to anyone who would listen.

My boyfriend.

My mother.

My brother.

The car.

Customers. (Kind of. As much as you can say in passing, AKA ‘My brain’s back to normal!’ The looks I would get were priceless.)


And everyone loved it!

Yes, I feel much better now. If only I can get that Scrivener file open and begin typing.

About mermaids nonetheless!

I’ve always wanted to write about mermaids…

Excuse this crappy post, it was required.


Dead Zone

I’ve been in a creative dead zone for several weeks now. I haven’t been able to write more than a paragraph in any kind of story. I wish I could say the reason was because I don’t want to write, but I can’t. I really want to. I’ll sit and stare at the computer or a notebook for hours before I put down a single word. It’s starting to affect my brain and drive me insane(er).
This past weekend I went to San Antonio, thinking it would help the creativity come back. It did in some ways. A location change always helps in some way, shape or form.
I live where there are no tall buildings, where the ground is flat, where the grass grows nice and tall, and where tornados are considered entertainment. San Antonio was completely different. There were so many tall buildings that I could no longer tell my north from the south – and I’m usually really good at that. And so many people! Which made me nervous, being the social introvert I am.

All kinds of possible stories entered my mind, but not all the way. They would try, but they would bounce off of my skull like it was a trampoline and run away to someone else.
Now that I’m home again, I’m sitting with  a brand new notebook and pen in front of me. Still nothing. Nothing except a name for a character.
Wish me luck.
It is needed.

Tree Hugging Time!

I bought a Christmas tree this year. One of those little $20 ones. Kind of an beginning to be independent gift to myself. A thing that made my Christmas feel more like my own. If that makes any sense at all…

This is not supposed to be a deep post at all… I promise.

The tree turned out quite cute for a person with about four ornaments to her name and no tree topper. I named him Alfred.


Now that it is March the 7th, I believe it is time to take down Sir Alfred and put him in his little box in my closet.

Till December, Alfred!


I Opened The Manuscript…

I opened the story I am currently working on and had a brain explosion.

It started with “Ugh… I don’t relate to these characters!” and ended with; “Oh my goodness this scene is so awful! This whole topic is awful!” Then, it left me wanting to write something, anything to get me out of that frame of mind.

But I can’t come up with anything to write.

I think I’ve died or something. That’s a vital part of me! I always come up with stories.

Granted, as I’m writing this, ideas are slowly popping into my head. So is the negativity. I know I can write. I know how, I enjoy it. It’s my dream for goodness sake! I just must have eaten some Super Negativity Flakes for dinner. Or maybe that tea was spiked with a kind of self hate poison.

In reality, there is a reason why the scene I’ve been writing sucks. There’s a reason I don’t relate to the characters. I’ve spent two months writing this stinking scene! Characters are even less forgiving than friends when you abandon them or avoid them.

Seriously, they will stalk you with pitchforks in their hands and murder in their eyes… And no one can save you, because of course these characters don’t really exist. But oooh you’ll feel those pitchforks as they sink into your flesh…

My sadistic side is slowly coming back! I think I might be able to survive this little meltdown.

There is hope yet!

Excuse me while I run from the characters with pitchforks…

Swimsuit Season/Boob Rant

In case you didn’t notice in the title…

Warning, boob rant ahead.

Last summer was the first summer I went swimming since I was 15. I assure you, I love to swim. Nothing but living far from a decent pool stopped me. I had always worn tankinis or very boring one pieces with shorts. Why? Because I have never liked my body since I hit puberty at the age of 10.

I’m not fat. I’m not a tiny person either I assure you, but I’m not fat. I just happen to be a descendant of the vikings. Meaning I have big boobs.

When I went swimsuit shopping last summer for the first time in years, it was the most depressing experience I have ever had. I cried for days and wore baggy shirts and jackets wherever I could. There was not one swimsuit I could fit into. The only ones I could wear were the old lady ones. The ones I wanted to wear made my chest fall out in very nasty ways.

I told others about this, and they said, ‘oh, you just weren’t trying on all the options! You’ll find something’ Yes, I will find something eventually. But I tried on old lady swimsuits! Yeah, I think I tried on everything in two different stores.

And of course, being a person who’s lost an inch and a half everywhere (except my chest, of course. -.- ) I’m a glutton for trouble and browsing the internet for swimsuits.

What do I find that I like? Mainly bikini tops. Again, I’m not fat, but I definitely don’t have abs. I’ve seen people look good in bikinis that have much less attractive stomachs than I do. Which is a boost in self confidence.

Maybe I should put exercise on overdrive before it gets hot enough for me to feel like I’m making a fool out of myself. Or better yet, before I try on a swimsuit.

I apologize for the rant, it seemed necessary in my mind.