Ahhh. Spring Break. What Break?
This past week was Spring Break from my day job. A week off. A week off! you say. Wow. And that’s how I looked at it. An entire week! Just imagine what I could accomplish writing! Start a novella, edit a book, write, write, write. Sigh. Somehow it never turns out like I think.
This past week was filled with “catch up” activities. You know, those activities or chores you push off until you have more time. More time. That is just an elusive phrase. What does more time really mean to us writers? It’s never enough time. Not when you are responsible for keeping the family going, keeping the house from crumbling around your shoulders, keeping your environment clean. This is on top of the regular routine – making sure the kids have what they need, cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping.
Don’t get me wrong, during this “break” I did get things accomplished. I steam cleaned the entire upstairs (sadly in need of it) and I caulked the kids bathroom (glad I did because it really needed it). Surprised, aren’t you? Yes, I like to do it myself because then I can make sure it’s done right. I’m not complaining. Because if I weren’t a control freak, I could dole out these chores and have more time.
And here we are, back to more time. That elusive phrase. So, I did do some chores on my list. I even went downtown to the Field Museum. But I didn’t start a novella and I didn’t edit the book.
They might call it Spring Break. But it’s not really a break. They should call it Spring Catch Up. Next week I’ll get back into the groove and begin that novella and edit that book. And I’ll probably start a summer catch up list.
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
Laurel O'Donnell's Blog
“What do you want from me?”
Perhaps it was ridiculous, Ryen thought. Men never seemed to have a problem with taking what, Here's an excerpt from my novel, The Angel and the Prince - Enemies face off -
“What do you want from me?”
Perhaps it was ridiculous, Ryen thought. Men never seemed to have a problem with taking what, or who, they wanted. Maybe I’m making it more complicated than it should be. He is my prisoner.
She raised a hand to touch his thick mane. Bryce pulled back instantly. Ryen wrapped her fingers tightly in his hair, leaning into his strong chest. “You fear my touch?” she wondered in a soft whisper.
“Loathe is more like it,” he said.
She could feel the lie through his leggings and smiled. “Your body betrays you.”
“Step away from me, witch,” he snarled.
Ryen stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against his. At first they were immovable, but suddenly they parted and the hot passion he was trying to hide was released. His tongue slipped into her mouth, warring with hers.
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