Simmering. Waiting. Almost there.
Hovering on the edge of plunging into Devilry 3. I have so many notes I am losing track of them; it's hard to even try and put them into some semblance of order. I have been toying with so many ideas for about a year now, so there are lots and lots of notes--these two are so incredibly inspiring.
Yet something holds me back. I still feel like I need that kick, that push, that *something* that pushes me over the edge into frenzied, visionary writing. I need to be in that state to do it.
One of the reasons that holds me back is that this really will be the darkest thing I've ever written if and when I get round to it. It's going to be heavy as hell to write, and not easy. Some of the stuff is going to incredibly dark and triggery, and far too close to RL horrors. You thought Smythe was bad? Wait until Dr. Segert shows up and we see his true colours. There's going to be a lot of death and darkness and mental illness and 1940s awfulness and absolute, fucked-up depravity. But I am determined to make Torsten and Laura go out in a blaze of motherfucking glory.
I started on Mirages (Christ, Amazon tells me I bought it nearly a year ago!) and I think I'm going to grab it again and lie down. Perhaps the writing will start today; I don't know. Anaïs is already inspiring me, making my writing voice rear its head (as you can probably tell from this entry). Still simmering. Almost boiling over; almost.
Their death will make the stars douse their lights in shame.
Yet something holds me back. I still feel like I need that kick, that push, that *something* that pushes me over the edge into frenzied, visionary writing. I need to be in that state to do it.
One of the reasons that holds me back is that this really will be the darkest thing I've ever written if and when I get round to it. It's going to be heavy as hell to write, and not easy. Some of the stuff is going to incredibly dark and triggery, and far too close to RL horrors. You thought Smythe was bad? Wait until Dr. Segert shows up and we see his true colours. There's going to be a lot of death and darkness and mental illness and 1940s awfulness and absolute, fucked-up depravity. But I am determined to make Torsten and Laura go out in a blaze of motherfucking glory.
I started on Mirages (Christ, Amazon tells me I bought it nearly a year ago!) and I think I'm going to grab it again and lie down. Perhaps the writing will start today; I don't know. Anaïs is already inspiring me, making my writing voice rear its head (as you can probably tell from this entry). Still simmering. Almost boiling over; almost.
Their death will make the stars douse their lights in shame.