November 1st is fast upon us, and there is one thing which I am particularly afraid of.
I love myself far too much to be a good writer.
Ok, so I may have been cheating on NaNoWriMo just a teensy bit. I have indeed written a little—but it is handwritten, very rough, and not more than a few typed pages at this point. Ian, snake in the grass that he is, took a glimpse at my first page and reamed me out for starting with the word “twilight.” So not even my first word is acceptable at this point. Thus, my disclaimer and excuses for why I am not really cheating.
But I have written a bit. And I am shocked and appalled to say, that all of the characters are so far just twisted versions of myself. I’ve got the older gay gentleman version of Liz, the younger gay gentleman version of Liz, Liz as a lesbian, Liz as a crazy lesbian, Liz as her sexy dream man, Liz as a tattooed bartender, Liz as a fucking refrigerator waking you up in the middle of the night. Continue reading “My Narcissism Reaching a Whole New Level of Shit”