Winding Up

After realizing it wasn't a matter of days to get back to my apartment, I decided that I need to write Flight of the Scions no matter what. So, i started my normal process for getting into the actual process of writing novels. That is to say, writing a series of short stories to "remember" how to write again and getting the creative flow working. And then trying to figure out how to write, my desk is uncomfortable and my wrists are starting to hurt. The laptop is good for many things, but I don't like writing on it that much. Plus, no music. I ran out of space on the little device, so I pull off 20 GB of music for more room. Which means, I'm writing in the horrid silence of a house that isn't mine.

An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex. - Aldous Huxley

Some months ago, someone asked about test readers for novels. I knew I couldn't do it then, but you know what? I'm kind of wishing I actually started it then so I would have a support structure of writers when doing this. Kind of frustrating actually, since asking friends and family to read something really doesn't help. I mean, I love them and all, but they are all really crappy at giving feedback, mainly because my relationship colors their responses. I need someone who feeds off pain and anguish of writers but actually does it for something more than just sheer hatred of their fellow man.

Its scary starting to write again. Always hoping this will be the magical time that it finally clicks and just as terrified that I'm just spewing words out on a page. Time will tell, I guess.