werewolf excerpt, little bit of Theda news

You guys know by now that I'm still fighting a serious writer's block. It's kind of breaking my heart. I love writing and yet it has become so hard. Not to say I'm not writing - and I wasn't before, so believe me when I say I will take that as progress. It's disheartening that it's become so hard. I just keep writing around it, a big fucking boulder square in the middle of my chest that I keep working around. At least I think the work I'm putting out is decent, though it's put out in small blocks which sometimes causes me some continuity problems. 

Listen, I'm not giving up. I've always been a slow writer. I will never give this up. If anybody at all is reading this, if any of you are interested in whether or not I'm putting anything else out, I just wanted you to know that I am. Just not at the speed I want. The werewolf story is drawing to a close and it's longer than it should be (hope eXtasy will let me get away with it and how's that for professional? But they've always been such great people to work for, and frankly, when they get their hands on it I'm hoping they'll like it lots at the length it is). The other story I have going on is around 20,000 now and I'll be going back to it in a few weeks. I have some other stuff going on, too, but yeah...slow. Shit, so slow.

I call it a writer's block and it is to some degree, there's a hard block of procrastination going on, so powerful. More of it has to do with feeling overwhelmed and I know you've all heard that and it's either get over it or... QUIT. Not so easy to get over, though - my 6th grader is having a rough transition to middle school and she's willing to put in the time to keep herself an honors student and so am I. Usual family stuff, kids.

Writing is so huge to me - I need time and quiet, concentration. It's a job but it's more, I have to feel it to write it, and sometimes I just don't have it in me to do it.

Well, anyway, I haven't written much here, so I'm posting to say I'm not quitting, I've got more stuff coming out and I'm still around. The thing is, you name this problem and people start to assume things like well, shit, she's not writing anymore. I am. That's really all I wanted to say.

That, and here's an excerpt for fun. The story is about two guys chained up together in a basement (ha!) and one of them's turning werewolf for the first time:

He woke himself up talking in his sleep, looking up to find Mal staring at him in the dim light.  He couldn't read his expression.

"What?" he asked, blinking. "Did I do something?"

"You were dreaming. Pulled against the chain."

Zach winced. "Sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up?"

"Didn't sound like a good dream, whatever it was,” Mal said, ignoring the question. “Said something about your dad. Called for him." Mal looked into his eyes. "So where is your dad?"

"He died years ago."

Mal nodded, looking away. "Yeah. That's what I thought." He paused. "I wasn't sleeping anyway."

"What’s up?"

Mal cocked his head. “Worried about my sleeping habits?” His pupils were huge, a thin edge of hazel surrounding them, his gaze intense, hint of something wild there. Instinct prickled over Zach skin, waking him fully. Mal shrugged. "I don't know. Just wasn't. I was listening." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Did you know there's a rat nesting over in the far corner? She smells like—she’s warm and her heart beats so fast. She’s burrowed underneath some junk under a rusty grill, I think. Got it lined with old newspaper. Reminds me what leaves smell like in the early winter decomposing on the ground. Only drier and not as nice…dead a long time. She has seven pups. You hear the squeaking?”

Zach sat up. He tried to make himself sound normal, though all kinds of alarms were going off inside him. "I don’t hear anything.”

“Yeah, I bet. I guess you didn't hear Aaron and Kane upstairs just before they left, either. They were in a hurry. Their scent’s changing. Like mine. There were some odd sounds upstairs before they left, too. You didn't hear them leave, right?"

Zach's pulse quickened. "Guess I was asleep." He tried to sound off-handed, a little irritated. "What odd sounds?"

Mal shifted closer, leaning over Zach. "You know those changes I told you about? I can tell when someone's nervous now, Zach. I hear your heart beating, your respirations. You know what I think? You know something about the changes in them. In me. I think they told you something."

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I tell you if they did, Mal?"

"Because for some reason you don't want me to know what's happening."

Zach wouldn’t look at him. "Paranoid much?"

"Which leaves a big question for you. You're not changing. You're hooked to someone who is. Why? And why would you need to hide that from me?"

Zach stared up into the darkness. "What do you want from me, you want me to make something up?"

Mal's lip curled. "Yeah. Didn’t think you’d tell me.” When he spoke again, his voice was low, so low. “So what should I do to get you to tell me, Zach?"

“Mal. Stop,” Zach whispered.

Mal scooted closer, staring into his eyes. He smiled, his lips curling wide and thin.  

“What is it, what’s happening to you?” Zach breathed.

 Mal lowered his head a little, still staring, so close now. At this angle the slant of his eyes was noticeable and his gaze was cold, calculating.“Don’t insult me by acting as if you don’t know. I thought you wanted to help me.”

“I do.”

Mal’s upper lip lifted. “You know.”

 Zach swallowed, looking back at him squarely. “You think I do, anyway. So what are you going to do about it?” His voice was soft, barely there.