!@#$!

Man.


I don't even know where to start with this one. I really don't. I waited too long. Maybe I knew this was coming. I couldn't flesh out 'Charlie' the way I wanted, no matter how hard I tried and I've hit a brick wall.

Shit...I don't like her. I just don't fecking like her. At all. She's flat. Uninteresting...I don't like her. I can't feel her.

And she's the center of the story. I don't know how many thousands of words I wrote. But I stopped.

I flat out...stopped. I cannot--I will not waste any more time with this story. I never came up with a title that I liked. I've been writing this story for almost six months (which is way too long) and I'm not in love with it anymore.

I'm not even sad. I actually pissed off. Really, fundamentally pissed off. I'm not saying that I'll never pick this up again. But I'm putting it in the drawer until it wants to cooperate. I'm sick of looking at it. I'm sick of thinking about it. The idea is solid. It's sound, but for some reason it's not just coming together. When I send out the manuscript, I want whoever I send it to, to be floored by it.

But I'm not floored with it. I'm BORED with it.


Now Jane...I like Jane. I love Jane. Jane is fecking fantabulous. Man, I just started writing about this mousey little screw-up of a woman who cannot use a public bathroom when there's other people in there (she'll actually stop in mid-piss when she hears someone comes in), who owns this horrifically ugly pink t-shirt with dancing kittens across the front of it and sits on her computer at home playing nerdy video games.

I fecking (like my new word?) LOVE her. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with her...but it's going to be something.

I don't care about genres or queries or agents or agent blogs or anything. I worried about that shit way too much with this last project and it totally killed me.

Chronicles of Jane. Not changing it. Not fixing it. Not thinking about it. It's there.


I suck. I really REALLY do.