Well. I am quite proud of myself at the moment, mostly because I paid attention to that course correction.
Step 1 – Recognize you have a problem. Self sabotage Check
Step 2 – Identify the signs when the problem is beginning to flare Three days of composing in my head with no actual writing Check
Step 3 – Take active steps to correct the problem Spend the time required to get the words out of your head and onto the page Took 2 days to catch up with the story telling in my head but … *proud of myself grin* … Check
Unfortunately I am not thrilled with the form of the words on the page, but the skeleton is there and I can edit and massage it into shape later. At this point I am just relieved that I can press onward. (Total word count on this project thus far – 23, 889)
After work yesterday I met up with my best friend. We don’t see nearly enough of each other these days, so when we do manage to steal an hour or two they are always packed full with catching up, laughing, and usually alcohol. *wry grin* It was a work night so we restrained ourselves to a single drink and tons of talking. Even-so, by the time I got home last night I was tired. Since I had managed to finish my “catch up” writing earlier in the day I decided to just switch off for a while.
I read an ebook for a bit while hanging out on the couch with the family. When I went to bed I put an audiobook on. I like to be read to sleep, what? 🙂 I did forget to set the sleep timer on the player though, so I slept all night with someone else’s story being read in my ear. Apparently my brain did not care. I woke up dreaming about my story. I wasn’t composing in my head on purpose, but I guess my characters were not done with me yesterday when I put them down. So, I guess my Friday night will be spent attached to a keyboard, again.
I’m not complaining, though Mr. Aveline might be!
I was looking for an excerpt to share, just a little tease … but right now everything I particularly like is too heavily character or plot entwined to make a good teaser. Here is something, anyhow.
Don’t Be Nice To Me
“You can’t do this.” Jill said, standing up straight and pressing her palms against Keith’s rippling chest, gently pushing him back.
“Do what?” He asked, confused as he took a half a step back.
“This,” she said, leaning against the wall and waving her hands vaguely between them. “You can’t be … nice … to me.” She sighed, her voice quiet and firm in spite of how shaky she felt inside and out.
He arched a single brow at her and cocked his head to the side as he peered down at her. “Be nice to you?”
She nodded and sighed, knowing that she wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Look, I don’t have much under cover experience, and frankly, I have never been particularly good at acting. I promise, I can keep all of the important stuff straight. I won’t forget who the good guys are or what our objectives are or that I am only pretending to crawl into a bottle … and you.” She blushed as she said this last, but she soldiered ahead. “I don’t know how to turn it all on and off on the turn of a dime though. If I am going to be convincing, not just in tableau’s like Preston just came across, but for the long haul …”
She sighed and bit her lip, looking up to meet Keith’s eyes with her own, dreading what she might see there. “I need to do as much of this for real as we can. I need you to be the selfish bastard who is willing to wine and dine me. Seduce me and distract me and make me forget that I am not supposed to feel like laughing. Of course watch my back, trust me to watch yours and find the bad guys. But don’t be nice to me. Don’t do,” Again she waved her hands between the two of them, “what you did for me yesterday in the hallway – what you just did for me here.” She could see his confusion and honestly did not know how to explain how fragile she was, how his kindness made her feel all of the things she needed to lock away and ignore. “It’s too real.” She tried. “Right now, I can’t deal with my own reality. I need to focus on the job. My stuff has to wait. Has to.”
Keith wanted to call a halt to the whole operation right then and there. His heart was breaking for the delicate, beautiful woman standing in front of him whose eyes were overflowing with her heart and her vulnerability even while she proved that there was steel in her spine.
He watched her gather her strength and transform right before his eyes. He watched the shutters and armor fall into place to insulate and protect her and he felt oddly bereft at being locked outside them. She still leaned against the wall and gazed up at him. Nothing changed in her posture or her expression, but he watched the vulnerability, the guilt and pain and grief drain away leaving in their wake a strong, capable, ruthless woman. He had no doubt that she would sacrifice whatever it took to get this job done. He thought it might very well be too much, or at least more than he was willing witness.