Bubblicious pink bubble gum

This is a short post that has little to do with writing…well, maybe more than a little. Who am I kidding, it has everything to do with it.

Revenge. It is such a tasty word. I’ve always said living well is the best revenge, and I can thank Midtown for shoving that down my throat in 2002. It’s recently come to my attention that maybe I need to actually digest it, instead of just letting it spin around in my mouth.

If you follow my blog, you know my issue with the book industry right now. (I’m trying not to repeat myself so if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go here.) I told myself I’d give myself a break from things, let the ease of my third book settle over me as it releases, and just enjoy the summer. I wasn’t necessarily saying I was taking a break from writing, but rather stepping back from all of this. I had a few projects to pick back up on this fall and I was going to stick to my guns about writing what I WANT. Sit back, relax, and stare into the sun.

And then something happened.

It started out with a click, clack. It was the product of wondering who to really trust mixed with anger. I messed around with some thoughts and this little idea popped into my head. It started with a fizzle, and now it’s a damn firework display. Roman Candles and those crackling things that fizzle loudly in the air. Son of a bitch now it’s on fire!

Revenge is such an interesting topic. There’s a million stories about revenge. A million tales about how to get even. But what if I don’t want to get even? What if it could be about so much more? And beyond that, what if I could bring myself back into my words? By that I mean, what if I could write the way I wanted to, without the pressure of anything else? Forget what comes after the book is done. Forget what comes with building an audience. Forget that shit. Write. Write about revenge, write about pain, write about humanity and how we lose ourselves when we’re so focused on what people think of us. Write about love, loss, and how that tastes when both of those things cross. Write. Write. Write.

So that’s what I’m doing.

I’ll write it all. Every word. And I don’t give a damn if it’s right or not.

Click. Clack. Click.

You’ve been informed.

 

Xox – Hay

 

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