These past few weeks have absolutely sucked. I’ve been sick, cranky, and miserable as all fuck. This nasty little bug that I’ve been plagued with has kicked my ass to hell and back—and then back again. I haven’t worked on any of my projects. I haven’t written. I haven’t edited. I haven’t revised. I haven’t done shit. Hell, I haven’t even touched my TBR pile because my brain has been shrouded in a fog so thick that the words didn’t make any damn sense. It’s been frustrating as fuck.
Luckily, I’m on the mend. Physically, I’m feeling better, but my mood is still in the proverbial shitter. I’m behind on everything, and I am beyond pissed off. There’s no escaping this funk. I’ve tried. And failed. So, I’m just gonna roll with it. I’m embracing my crap mood and working with some of my crankiest characters: Nick, Raichel, and Scowl-A-Lot.
I’m kicking my evening off with Nick. Since I haven’t written anything in weeks, I need to grease up my rusty writing wheels before diving back into my WIPs. So, I’m going to work on one of Nick’s side shorts and just free write for a bit.
I’m transported into Nick’s world the minute I pull up his scene. It’s a gorgeous fall day. The sun is shining, the wispy clouds doing little to dim its radiant glow as the rays beam through the skeletal branches of the trees that line the two-lane road. Nick is driving while Aria’s sitting in the passenger seat, chipping away at her nail polish.
The air inside the Range Rover’s cabin is thick with silent tension. Nick grips the wheel tight, a muscle ticking in his shaded jaw as he navigates the SUV through mid-afternoon traffic. He’s focused on the road, but fighting a myriad of emotions that threaten to snap his self-control. Nick doesn’t want to yell at his baby sister. He doesn’t want to raise his voice, but fucking hell, he’s pissed at her. Aria knows better than to skip school. She knows she can’t just disappear without a word or warning. They’ve talked about this, and yet…
“What were you thinking?” Nick’s voice is calm and controlled, but it’s impossible to miss the anger in his tone. He’s not gonna pretend all is well, when in reality, it’s fucked to hell.
Aria shrugs, acting all nonchalant. “I was bored.”
“Bored,” Nick deadpans, noting the quiver in Aria’s reply. He cuts his gaze to his baby sister, who’s devoted her full attention to removing that purple coat off her nails like her existence depends on it. She refuses to look at him, and he knows she’s lying. He knows there’s more to this story. So, he presses her. They argue at first, but after a bit of back and forth, Aria opens up.
I get engrossed in their conversation, and I type without care. Two hours later, I emerge from Nick’s world, and I’m starving. My stomach is rumbling, my throat is parched, and my legs are stiff. It’s time for a break.
After I finish refueling, I’m back in my office and ready to work. Raichel’s up next. Since I haven’t worked with Raich all that much, I need some help connecting with her. So, I pop open her playlist and start reading her chapter. Hurricane by MS MR plays softly in the background, and before I know it, I’m in her head.
Raichel’s mind is in a state of utter chaos. She’s filled with resentment and regret—two emotions she’s not wholly familiar with. She’s pacing around her study, racking her brain for a solution to a problem she caused. She’s said things she can’t take back. She’s inflicted the kind of pain that tears open old scars and leaves you bleeding out on the ground. If only she were left alone. If only people would’ve given her the space she requested, then none of this would’ve happened.
Raichel’s trying to justify her actions—trying to rationalize her words, but she knows she screwed up. She’s hurt someone she cares about, and she doesn’t know how to undo the damage. She wants to leave. She wants to hit up the bar, drown herself in bourbon, and forget all about her fucked up life for the night. But she can’t. Raichel’s trapped inside, courtesy of the violent snowstorm battering the city.
Thankfully, she has plenty of bourbon at home. Determined to get her drink on, she spins and spots him—the MMC (male main character). He’s propped up against the hickory-hued wall, powerful arms folded across his broad chest. His hard expression matches his tone when he speaks, “That was low, princess. Even for you.”
Ouch. His words are verbal blades, slicing into her psyche, and sinking deep within her heart. She shouldn’t care about his opinion. Hell, she shouldn’t care about him at all. But she does. Her admission shakes her to the very core, triggering her pride. She raises her chin, meeting those intense, dark eyes of his. “It was true.”
“Bullshit.” He scoffs, shoving off the wall.
He’s right, but Raich won’t admit it. She’s too prideful—too stubborn to acknowledge she’s in the wrong. Hurt, trapped, and feeling like a cornered animal, she lashes out at him, her rage getting the best of her as she showers him with insults. But he’s relentless—unfazed by her spoken bullets as he closes the distance between them.
He sees through her lies—calls her out on them, tearing down the walls she’s hidden behind for so long, leaving Raichel feeling raw and completely exposed. Everything he’s saying is true. Unnerved, she’s not sure what to do—what to say, but the MMC helps her get through it.
I work on fleshing out the rest of her chapter, and by the time I’m done, it’s a little past midnight. I’m tapped out—mentally and emotionally drained from being inside Raichel’s head for so long. I need to recharge my batteries before moving on.
I make myself some cinnamon spice tea and unwind by watching an episode of Halloween Baking Championship. It’s the perfect palette cleanser, and an hour later, I’m refreshed and ready to go.
Scowl-A-Lot is next on my list. I’ve loosely outlined his story and have started working on his rough draft. The first three chapters are done, and I’m eager to work on the next one, but I can’t shake this scene that keeps playing on repeat in my head. I’m not sure where it fits in the story, or if it’ll make the final cut, but I write it anyway.
Scowl-A-Lot aka Stavros is having a bad night. He’s thinking he might need to get his head checked—or hell, better yet, he should get a full medical workup done, just to play it safe. But he doesn’t have time for all that. He’s got other things to worry about, like the inebriated nurse stumbling around in his bathroom.
What the fuck had he been thinking, bringing her home like some sort of stray cat? But it’s not like he could’ve just left her at the bar. And sure, he could’ve dropped her drunk ass off at home, but Alaina lived by herself. What if she fell and broke something? As much as Alaina grates on his nerves—as much as she irks the living shit out of him—the last thing he wants is for her to get hurt. He’s a doctor—a healer, not some fucking killer. His job is to save lives, not end them—no matter how much someone annoys him.
Stavros might be a cantankerous asshole, but he’s good at taking care of others. And that’s exactly what he does with Alaina.
I lose myself in his world and just write. The images play out like a TV episode and the words flow effortlessly, and I’m feeling good. I’m on this high and I never want to come down. So, I just keep writing. And by the time I know it, it’s already past four in the morning. I’m exhausted but satisfied. My shit mood is long gone.
The thing is, I hadn’t planned on working on any of these projects tonight, but I adapted to my mood. I had to, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten shit done. I channeled my frustration and anger, bleeding all those negative emotions out of me as I wrote. It was cathartic. I feel lighter—like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. Not to mention, I got a decent amount of work done. That’s a win in my book.
We’ve been in the process of updating this website, so there’s plenty of new things to see. I’ve posted new aesthetic boards, playlists, character profiles, and life bites. Just go to the Extras menu and look through the tabs. I’ll be posting more playlists, profiles, and mood boards in the near future, so keep your eye out for those.
Marissa’s character blog is next, and that will be posted on Friday, October 28th. Raichel’s blog will follow and will be posted on Friday, December 2nd. The next writing life blog will be on Friday, December 30th. The 2022-2023 winter blog schedule will be posted before the end of November, and you’ll be able to find that under the Announcements tab.
As always, stay safe and stay healthy.
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