The girls here at the diner feel the need to vent this week. Guess that means I get to start off the pity party.
Want to know what’s been bugging me lately? My characters. They aren’t playing nice. They still refuse to tell me where the heck this story is going. And I hate that. I’m a plotter to the core. For my last two books, the entire story played out from start to finish in my head like a movie on the big screen and all I had to do is write it down as fast as I could before I forgot it. Not happening with Sam and Roderick’s story. They keep teasing me with a snippet here, a brief flash there. It’s all previews and no feature film. I am soooo not good at pantzing. Tried it once with my very first book and it shows -- that puppy is never coming out from under the bed. But I have no choice. If my hero and hero refuse to come out and play, I have to play without them . . . and it’s a no fun swinging on the swings all by myself.