Wrestling with a live gator covered in Crisco would have been easier
than writing yesterday.
All slicked up and ornery as hell, the successful authoring bit kept
slipping through my fingers all morning and all afternoon.
Finally, just as I was about to dig out the white flag from my back
pocket (“Always keep surrendering paraphernalia close at hand” is my motto),
500 words were squeezed out.
And when I say squeezed out, I mean it.
I was taking every paragraph, every half-scene of the 9k I’ve already
written on Book Three and wringing it out until all the “descriptor needed here”
and the “this could be better” bits were laid out before me.
I then picked each little desperate and wanting piece up and gave it
love.
Tough love.
I was in no mood for mushiness.
Hopefully, by the time Book Three releases this late fall/early winter,
all of the crinkles and wrinkles I put in the thing yesterday will simply be
interesting texture in an otherwise satiny smooth love story…
Yeah, I know.
Even the baking greased gator didn’t buy that.
*smirks*
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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