The job change threw me off my game and I haven't written more than 300 words this past week. Between the stress of the new schedule and the physical nature of my new assignment, I've been a puddle of pain. Swollen hands make typing a bitch. Today I am leaping back on the proverbial horse and exercising my writing muscles.

When I last visited my characters, they were discussing a porn their dead friend starred in close to the end of her marriage. I've sure there is a poorly written flashback involved. My brain was unraveling close to the end of the retreat. The proof is in the pirates and zombies I added to a woman's fiction novel.


The fact this depressing novel filled with drug addiction, suicide, and rape was written while listening to Fall Out Boy amuses me. My novel is more depressing than it's soundtrack. :P

Yes, I'm still obsessed. I am convinced there isn't a situation that Fall Out Boy doesn't have a song for. (I'm starting to wonder if my obsession isn't about the music and is more about the boys playing the music. I am a freak.)

and lastly, my past has caught up with me via Facebook. An old friend found and added me. This of course created the avalanche of "if you know this person you might also know this one." My current life and my previous one are merging. I'm not sure how I feel about this. It is a bit strange.


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