I've frequently pondered as to why I always feel this itch, this urge, this need, to write. Writing words on a page, or typing them here is a comfort to me. It is as if I am pulling a warm blanket over my body in the middle of a cold December night. The words are my hot cocoa and steal away from me some of my nervous energy or frustrations, leaving me feeling serene once they have flowed away from me.
As to what I'm writing, or the stories I'm willing to draw out from my hyper-active imagination, that remains to be seen, now does it?
I grew up reading mostly horror, fantasy, science fiction and even when the mood struck, romance*. Most of my writing has fallen into the horror/fantasty genres, thou there have been times when I'm suffering a block and switched to more adult writing. Technically, those writings also fall under those same genres. I'm too much of a cynic to successfully write a happy-ending cheesy romance, but still enough of a dreamer to understand the attraction.
Now I'm off to update the WIP on the Kindle and take care of some research.
*I can't help it - I'm a big fan of J.D. Robb, one pseudonym of Nora Roberts.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
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