Pink is the New Black

The first thing she felt was pain. There were shooting pains in her head and a throbbing pain in her backside. She then felt a pressure on her chest. It wasn’t a lot of pressure. It felt like Pumpernickel was sitting on her chest, but with maybe a small friend as well. She didn’t want to open her eyes. The smell was of burning firewood, and nature. That was the only way to describe it. It smelled like the outdoors, like a fresh fall day, with leaves on the ground.
The wind blew slightly, bringing more scents to her nose. There was the smell of some sort of animal. It was an almost cat like smell, but not completely cat. There was an almost bird like smell to it as well.
What was going on? The last thing she remembered was running out the door after Pumpernickel. The cat who abhorred being outdoors had made a mad dash for escape. Why had she run?
She felt a sandpaper tongue lick her nose. She knew that feeling. That was definitely Pumpernickel. So the weight on her chest was definitely her cat, the reason she was on the ground. Alex opened her eyes, slowly and carefully. She first a bright blinding light, and she closed her eyes in defense. She slowly opened them again. She saw tree leaves, high above her. The trees towered over her, much taller than she remembered seeing them before.
She slowly rotated her eyes down and looked at her cat. She reached up with her hand, her left hand, and was relieved to know nothing hurt when she moved. She reached over to pet her cat, and felt something off. Something was weird about her cat. Something wasn’t right. There was a leathery patch, with what felt like … was that feathers?
She pushed the cat off her chest and jumped up. She grabbed her head as the world spun around her, her other hand reaching for her stomach as it tilted on it’s access. Cold, icy dread hit her as she watched, in horror, as the cat that had been on her chest, the cat that looked so much like her precious Pumpernickel, spread it’s … were those WINGS?
“Oh … my … god,” she sputtered out. She looked around. This was not Washington. Yes, some spots looked the same, but something was still wrong. Something was so horribly wrong. “Where am I?”
“You’re in Faerun,” a voice told her. That voice! She knew that voice. She’d heard that voice so many times. She had never heard it in person, but she had heard it in her dreams. The dream world she had lived in every time she had closed her eyes. She reached over with her left hand and pinched the inside of her right wrist.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed.

I really have no desire to continue writing this story. I mean I love what I’m writing, but I just can’t get into what I’m supposed to be writing. The beginnings of this story are boring. If it’s boring to me, it’s going to be boring to others. That’s just how it works. How can I be content to write something that I know is boring? How can I think that it’s okay? Why did I start this?
Well, I know why I started this. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I learned to read. I wanted to inspire another person to love to read, just as the authors that I grew up loving to read inspired me. I want to make the world a little bit more full of love by writing something sweet and sappy.
So, I can do this. I will do this. I will find my inner Yoda and try, try, try and write. Because, damn it, I deserve to do this writing thing. As Chris Baty put it, “The world needs my story.”
Well, eventually. First, I have to get through the bullshit parts I hate to write, so that I can get to the good stuff. The good stuff means that freaking fracking dream sequence.

I will never get this novel completed if Josh doesn’t start just SLEEPING and stop kicking and squirming and scratching. He is seriously starting to just drive me up the freaking wall. I just need some time to write. I’m sorry if I can’t write during the day. I just can’t do it. Deal with it. Now go the fuck to sleep already.
I’m not getting anything done with him constantly squirming and dancing around. He needs to just SEE someone already about it.

Yeah, I had a bit of an emo problem yesterday while writing.

The time. Where has it gone?

This time tomorrow? I will need 1667 words. Written. Committed. Saved. Back-up.

Where will I be? What will I accomplish? I have no idea.

I will try. I will attempt.

But as Yoda put it best:

There is no try. Only do.

So, I will do. I will do. I will do.

To see her, you would know that she is used to having things easier in life. It is more than that she is beautiful. Her green eyes shone with a shrewdness, that spoke of the ability to argue a point until the other party gave up.

I can’t turn off my brain. It wanted to write. It’s not long, but I’m slowly seeing my main female character of the #NaNoWriMo :D

I’m excited for this November. I’ve got a “planning” write-in on the 10th, that evening. Josh is off, THANK GOD, so I can go and not have to worry about the kids.

There’s another the 24th, the Kick-Off Hopefully Josh can get off on time for that Or else I’ll be taking the kids and he’ll be sneaking in to get them .

I also see there are TWO write-in sessions for my local region! YAY! That’s one more than last year

Besides local stuff, I’m going to be hosting sprints on AIM, through . I'm a new mod there ... for November allyear_sprints