Up at A Twist of Noir, my "deeply and darkly depraved" story Exit. Thank you, Michael Solender, as I'm still beaming over that! And big thanks to Christopher Grant for allowing me to add my sick two cents to the awesome 600-700 challenge. I'm 638, and A.S. is right after me with 639 and her elegant, gorgeous debut noir, "Remember Paris."
I'd honestly forgotten this one. Christopher sent an email yesterday, and I went over to read and was all like, "Seriously? I wrote this? COOL!"
For once. LOL.
Rachelle Gardner asks in today's post if anyone has ever told you not to write, that it's a waste a time.
Indeed. My first husband, who told me I couldn't do a lot of things.
In some ways, I regret those years. He held me back from an education, and from experiencing and doing things I wanted to do. Things I was passionate about. But I have been known to dwell on that time in passing shades in my writing today, and I'd rather be a woman with a rotten past and glorious future than a spoiled little brat who's always had it all and doesn't know the meaning of hardship, or the true bleakness of existence.
I wanted to slap Paris Hilton across the face when she went to jail and cried incessantly and then got out early. At least Lindsay was stoic and accepted her sentence. And Martha Stewart? Strength. And that strength is born out of a difficult life. So sign me up to do it all over again, if I must. No pampered princess here.
If anyone's told you writing is a waste of time, go to Rachelle's post and talk about it.