I had taken all the proper precautions, but somehow... They've found me.
The rush of bat-like wings fills the sky above me. The revision demons. Circling, as if over a carrion Thanksgiving, but it's my hide they're after. They want to delude me into thinking my novel is dying.
But that's just what they want me to think.
I stand straight and shake my fist at them, cradling my manuscript to my chest. All the while, they hurl taunts at me, but I can't listen to them. For that is certain death.
I sling stones to strike them from the sky, and run-- shaking, but surviving-- to where they won't find me again. Not any time soon, anyway. My novel is safe.
“All writers are vain, selfish and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives lies a mystery. Writing a book is a long, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” ~George Orwell
I'm a YA writer who delves into urban fantasy, paranormal and romance, and who loves reading good books almost as much as writing them.
When not writing—or working—I enjoy daydreaming, drinking tea, and walking in cemeteries. I used to spend the rest of my time checking my inbox for manuscript requests, but am now proudly represented by Rosemary Stimola, of Stimola Literary Studio.