Day 12 sucks
Total words: 14253
Words Today: 512
Summary: Jamie tries to write somemore, but his writing is only getting worse. How can this be typical writer's block?
Comments: I now officially have no idea what my plot is doing. *throws up hands*
Cups of Caffeine: 7
Cups today: the fact that I had none might be the reason I fell asleep so early instead of writing.
For the first time in her life, Emma was really looking forward to the next move. They were in a little suburb of Milwaukee, and it was far too quiet for her tastes. She didn’t think Melanie liked the area either, and she knew that her mother hated working nights. Jobs were scarce here, and she didn’t know why Melanie had chosen this town to live in.
Besides, the little whirlwinds that seemed to follow her around had gotten worse lately. She knew it probably had nothing to do with where they lived, since these things had been happening since she was about 8 years old, and they had lived in five different places since then. But the creepy man who seemed to be inserting himself into his mind had only happened here, and she wanted that to stop really quickly. Tornados when she got upset were one thing, but voices coming from trees were completely not cool.
None of her research that day gave her any answers to what might be happening. She skipped all of her classes to sit in the library, going through books and looking on the internet for information, but nothing came up. She didn’t have much to go on, and it was driving her nuts. If it weren’t for the fact hat she knew her little wind fits were real, she would’ve check herself into a psychiatric ward.
Everything pointed to her being some sort of supernatural being, or at least having supernatural powers. But she had never believed in any of that. Melanie had never said anything against believing in magic, but she had never encouraged it either. And she always said that Melanie’s imagination was acting up if something happened when she wasn’t around. Then again, when she saw things happen before her eyes, she didn’t bother trying to deny them.
Emma wanted her dad.
It was silly, she had never met him, didn’t even know his name, but every once in a while, in situations where she didn’t now what to do and her mother was not help at all, she really wanted a father to be there. Someone with strong arms and a masculine scent and stubble that felt funny on her face, just to hold her and take all of it away for a minute. The trouble with women, she thought, is that no matter how strong they are, they can’t shoulder everything for anyone but themselves. Strong women expect other women to be strong too. Strong men expect to need to help women.
Right then, she needed a strong man to help out.
A little snooping that night found her mother’s diary. She had gotten her habit of journaling from Melanie, and she just knew her father’s name would be there somewhere. And he would know what was going on. He wouldn’t put it down to a wild imagination. She knew it.
She also knew she would be in a ton of trouble when Melanie found out what she did, but it would be all right. It had to be.
***
Jamie stopped. This was worse than what he’d been writing before, and on top of that the phone was ringing, and the caller id said it was Myra. Fuck.
Words Today: 512
Summary: Jamie tries to write somemore, but his writing is only getting worse. How can this be typical writer's block?
Comments: I now officially have no idea what my plot is doing. *throws up hands*
Cups of Caffeine: 7
Cups today: the fact that I had none might be the reason I fell asleep so early instead of writing.
For the first time in her life, Emma was really looking forward to the next move. They were in a little suburb of Milwaukee, and it was far too quiet for her tastes. She didn’t think Melanie liked the area either, and she knew that her mother hated working nights. Jobs were scarce here, and she didn’t know why Melanie had chosen this town to live in.
Besides, the little whirlwinds that seemed to follow her around had gotten worse lately. She knew it probably had nothing to do with where they lived, since these things had been happening since she was about 8 years old, and they had lived in five different places since then. But the creepy man who seemed to be inserting himself into his mind had only happened here, and she wanted that to stop really quickly. Tornados when she got upset were one thing, but voices coming from trees were completely not cool.
None of her research that day gave her any answers to what might be happening. She skipped all of her classes to sit in the library, going through books and looking on the internet for information, but nothing came up. She didn’t have much to go on, and it was driving her nuts. If it weren’t for the fact hat she knew her little wind fits were real, she would’ve check herself into a psychiatric ward.
Everything pointed to her being some sort of supernatural being, or at least having supernatural powers. But she had never believed in any of that. Melanie had never said anything against believing in magic, but she had never encouraged it either. And she always said that Melanie’s imagination was acting up if something happened when she wasn’t around. Then again, when she saw things happen before her eyes, she didn’t bother trying to deny them.
Emma wanted her dad.
It was silly, she had never met him, didn’t even know his name, but every once in a while, in situations where she didn’t now what to do and her mother was not help at all, she really wanted a father to be there. Someone with strong arms and a masculine scent and stubble that felt funny on her face, just to hold her and take all of it away for a minute. The trouble with women, she thought, is that no matter how strong they are, they can’t shoulder everything for anyone but themselves. Strong women expect other women to be strong too. Strong men expect to need to help women.
Right then, she needed a strong man to help out.
A little snooping that night found her mother’s diary. She had gotten her habit of journaling from Melanie, and she just knew her father’s name would be there somewhere. And he would know what was going on. He wouldn’t put it down to a wild imagination. She knew it.
She also knew she would be in a ton of trouble when Melanie found out what she did, but it would be all right. It had to be.
***
Jamie stopped. This was worse than what he’d been writing before, and on top of that the phone was ringing, and the caller id said it was Myra. Fuck.