It has literally been a year since I wrote here.
I'm not sure what made me decide to take a look at Disillusioned, but whatever it was, here I am. Looking over the site I wasn't shocked that it had been a year since I posted here. I was shocked that it was a year ago TODAY that I had posted last. So much has changed. So much has remained the same.
I'm officially writing more, not here, but actual short stories. I'm also working on a romance novel. I'm taking writing classes (sort of) and trying to seriously make a go of it. I'm on my second writing class. The first was simply to reopen my mind to my muse. To rekindle the flame of imagination and to help me get off my ass and write.
The second one is specifically for romance writing, and I hate to say it, I have been ignoring it. I have printed the lessons and plan to do them offline. It just seems to not be capturing my attention and I would rather be writing than learning about writing, I guess. Don't get me wrong, I love writing and I love learning. The online class I am taking is great. The lessons are excellent. I am just not participating the way I did in the previous class. I don't know why. I print the lessons and put them in my binder. I know that I will need them at some point.
I've chosen my author name, which I won't share here at this time. I haven't decided if I want to publish the romance novel under the psuedonym or my real name. I do know that the short stories won't be under either name because they are seriously trashy erotica. (The kind you don't share with your mom. Or your coworkers. Or anyone who thinks they know who you are. It's the kind you read under your covers alone with a flashlight and whatever adult playthings you might require.) There are many reasons my name and the pen name I've chosen won't be on them. There were two short stories I wrote, each one under a different name, that I recently took down from Amazon and I probably won't use either of those names either. Honestly, there are reasons why I don't want anyone to know I wrote them. Too many implications. Too many people who will think that they aren't just stories, when someone at work just happened to say something to me and my mind exploded. EXPLODED. The ideas keep flowing. I want each of them to be around 5,000 words... I'm just not sure how to get them there yet. They tend to end around 3,400-3,500 words.
I've started a writing blog to go along with the chosen name. I almost shared one of the trashy stories there, just a sneak peek of 250 words, but then I decided I didn't want to do that.
My title at work has changed. My seating location has changed. Instead of sitting in a cube with a seriously psychotic neighbor, I am sharing an office with two amazing people who also work hard. This is a huge bonus for me because I'm not gritting my teeth listening to someone talk out loud all day long to whatever voices happen to be in their head. My pay changed, too, but thanks to student loans I am actually (once again) taking home less than what I was prior to the raise. This is twice now. The first time was thanks to the guv'ment forcing healthcare down our throats. If it happens a third time... I am going to scream.
In other news, the Little Lady moved to Toledo for her first year of college, then she decided she didn't want to be that far from home any longer and decided to transfer. She prefers being home and able to work however many hours she wants. There were also issues regarding work-study jobs being given to non-work-study students. That means by the time she found work, the semester was almost over. And, for whatever reason, a lot of the people who are supposed to be kind and helpful were rude and snotty. That's never appreciated.
Things have been going fairly well. I'm happier pursuing the writing bug that bit me when I was young and I know that if I put enough blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily secretions into it, I can succeed. I may not become a millionaire (you never know) and I might not have a movie made about one of my stories (it can happen to anyone) but I am willing to give it everything I can and hope that I might be able to live a little more comfortably instead of this whole paycheck to paycheck thing.
And now I'm off... to go do that writing thing on my lunch. Laters.