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[sticky post] A book... finally!

It is six years, one bachelor's degree, one job, and one divorce later, and I *FINALLY* decided to go ahead and get my writing out there in the world. After all, that is why I started all of this - to be read. Can't do that if readers can't access your books.

Here is the cover and blurb for my first adventure in indie publishing. Cloak of Deceit is a new adult urban fantasy romance, due to release at the end of this month! :D

If you want to keep up on my writing, please visit my new site at www.gwenmitchellfiction.com.


Multiblog = FAIL

Yeah. One of my goals for the new year is to tie everything into one cohesive site.  I'm not even sure if it's possible.  But I'm gonna try. In the meantime, my inaneness can be found here:   http://gwenmitchellfiction.com



So . . . my computer broke.  I quit my job.  And my cat now needs twice daily insulin injections. 

The people with the cameras can come out now.  Srsly. 

How much writing have I done since August 22nd?  Uhmmm... about 2K words.  That qualifies as an official block, doesn't it?  I finally said screw it leading up to the holiday weekend, and decided to just shelf writing.  Was not in a good head space.  Instead, I read several craft books, thinking 'at least I'm still doing something writer-ish'.  It did help.  I've been wanting to read those books for some time.  

But I came home and . . . nothing.  I *want* to write.  I just.  Can't.  I finally figured out why.  I feel guilty.  I do not have a job.  I should not be allowed to spend my day doing something I love.  That's how it works, isn't it?  

Everyone is telling me I should take advantage of the time that I have, but I just don't think I can.  If I get a taste of what it feels like to have all day to just write, I have a feeling I just won't care about looking for work.  Like an addict getting their first taste of something sweeter - ya know?  Okay, so I really don't think I have so little self-control, but really - I have found the first reeeeeally good block for me.  Guilt.  

Last week I hit the job search hard and ended up with one interview.  Hopefully some of that work will pay off later this week.  THIS week, I get the news about the cat. *sigh*

But I think I'm making progress.  I finally dove back into my online life, at least.  As one good friend told me 'you can't isolate yourself'.  It's true.  I know it's true.  But that's exactly what I do when things go to hell.  This time I did it so much that I estranged my inner writer. 

Julia Cameron and I are getting together later this week to see if we can find a way to free her. 


*le sigh*

I have news.  I'm not very enthusiastic about sharing it, but this is supposed to be my journal about writing and the things that affect it, so . . . here goes. 

I quit my job. 

Yep, just . . . quit.  As in, walked out, sent my resignation, and haven't looked back. 

I've never done that before in my life, and I don't really recommend it.  I've spent the past week in the cave licking my wounds, and am finally ready to rejoin the ranks of the ... er . . . working?  Except that I don't have a job.  Yet. 

I find myself surprisingly serene about the whole thing.  And that sorta scares me. 

So, other than the fact that I've been home for a week and haven't done a scrap of writing - I don't have much to report.  I still have a plan.  And, technically, my writing shouldn't be affected by this life change at all, but, well . . . you know how it works.  I just gotta find my footing and get my head on straight, and hopefully the words will start flowing. 

I've been doing the Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron and it is a LITERAL godsend at this point.  I've also been reading like a maniac.  That's why I love books so much, why I love writing: escape.  I needed it.  But . . . I'm back. 

Not in the saddle, but . . . shopping for a horse.

*le sigh*



Ever have those days/weeks/months where it seems like everyone and every thing and every circumstance is trying to get in your way when it comes to writing?

The Gremlins have been seriously screwing with me lately. First, my iPod crapped out. I think I have posted in several places exactly HOW important music is to me when it comes to writing. It feeds me. I NEED it.

No iPod = very unhappy Gwen.

So, I commandeered the male slave's iPod Shuffle, put some music on there that I wanted, and got rolling again.

Then my laptop died.

Yes, well and truly dead. *sob* Luckily, since the last time that happened to me, I've been a freak about backups. But, still . . .

That computer was my writing life. My companion. It was the piece of equipment I used to type my first story, to edit my first novel, to build my network of online goofballs, and discover my latent graphic design talent.

It was my best friend. And now it's teh ded. *sniffle* I knew it was time to buy a new one soon. I even had my eye on the future 'precious' as Cora Zane so aptly named our lappies. But I didn't have the cash yet. Now I'm stuck in the 'in between' zone, trying to make do with the 'family' computer - a PC mostly designed and purchased for gaming. And I'm stuck using *horrified gasp* Word-fucking-Perfect. Blegh.

And still no iPod.

But! I have decided I will adapt and overcome. I've always said that nothing, NOTHING would get in the way of my writing, and it looks like it's time to put my money where my foot is . . . in my mouth. Or something.

The point is, when you are truly passionate, you find a way. And I will, and I am. It sucks, but I've found that making lemonade out of gremlins is . . . really dirty work. err... you know what I mean.

When I sell something, I'll reward myself with a new precious. In the meantime, I'll make do, and count my other blessings.

I Quoteth . . .

There are two kinds of light--the glow that illuminates, and the glare that obscures.
- James Thurber

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