I've been mad busy, and I haven't had time to put up PART TWO of Harpreet or catch on goss or anything. I would apologize but it's silly to be sorry that you have too much work right? Especially when people complain about unemployment. I get to write stories for my day job, my night job and recreation so I'm good. Could probably benefit from time management classes though.
One thing I haven't been too busy for is reading. Mostly out of necessity though. It's difficult to write without reading. You need to for ideas, for getting to know how to write certain stuff, for gauging your levels of skill compared to your peers....It's the only way sometimes.
But sometimes when I'm reading a story maybe to see about writing something I'm not too familiar with, I find myself judging the hell out of it. Judging the who the writer is, by what and how they write...deciding whether they're worth admiration or contempt.
That's bad. I know.
Like just today, I read this story where there was actual pining. Like this grown person likes another grown person and instead of just going right up to them and hitting on them...they were sitting back and PINING. Like for years.
Who does that?
Even in Mills and Boon, that is still so 1985.
So I'm thinking maybe, probably, hopefully the person is a teenager who has never been involved in a relationship or a situationship or nothin...because otherwise it's just depressing.
And recently I seem to be coming across a lot of stories where there is dubious consent. What really really annoys me about these stories is the way the er, recipient of the dubious consent has this attitude of helplessness in terms of the way that they feel toward their aggressor and the way they react to the aggression. It's like, "Oh God I hate this but I can't help but be aroused and I think I might be in love."
Really?
I've stopped reading about three stories in the last week because of this narrative.
Then I think to myself, "Hey Annemarie? Why are you so mad at them? Doesn't your story also begin with dubious consent? Are you mad because you recognize your own thinking in these narratives?"
I really had to have an examination of conscience to understand why I was so mad.
But I don't think it's the same.
Mya didn't fall in love until...well, continuing that sentence would be such a severe spoiler that I can't even.
But the difference between Mya and them is attitude. She felt scared, but not helpless. She wasn't a fainting damsel in distress waiting for her abuser to realize what an ass he was and turn into her rescuer.
And the reason it makes me so mad is that in real life, there are women who feel like if they can just endure being treated like shit, one day the fuck boy they're with is going to miraculously become Prince Charming.
And that irritates the FUCK out of me. Because there is no better liar than the person who lies to themselves.
And I just really hate lies.
So I'm not going to lie to you. I don't really know when part two of Harpreet will be up. It might be tomorrow; it might be next weekend. But I will say that I am trying to manage my time better.
So have a good week, visit my bookpages and tell your friends.
One thing I haven't been too busy for is reading. Mostly out of necessity though. It's difficult to write without reading. You need to for ideas, for getting to know how to write certain stuff, for gauging your levels of skill compared to your peers....It's the only way sometimes.
But sometimes when I'm reading a story maybe to see about writing something I'm not too familiar with, I find myself judging the hell out of it. Judging the who the writer is, by what and how they write...deciding whether they're worth admiration or contempt.
That's bad. I know.
Like just today, I read this story where there was actual pining. Like this grown person likes another grown person and instead of just going right up to them and hitting on them...they were sitting back and PINING. Like for years.
Who does that?
Even in Mills and Boon, that is still so 1985.
So I'm thinking maybe, probably, hopefully the person is a teenager who has never been involved in a relationship or a situationship or nothin...because otherwise it's just depressing.
And recently I seem to be coming across a lot of stories where there is dubious consent. What really really annoys me about these stories is the way the er, recipient of the dubious consent has this attitude of helplessness in terms of the way that they feel toward their aggressor and the way they react to the aggression. It's like, "Oh God I hate this but I can't help but be aroused and I think I might be in love."
Really?
I've stopped reading about three stories in the last week because of this narrative.
Then I think to myself, "Hey Annemarie? Why are you so mad at them? Doesn't your story also begin with dubious consent? Are you mad because you recognize your own thinking in these narratives?"
I really had to have an examination of conscience to understand why I was so mad.
But I don't think it's the same.
Mya didn't fall in love until...well, continuing that sentence would be such a severe spoiler that I can't even.
But the difference between Mya and them is attitude. She felt scared, but not helpless. She wasn't a fainting damsel in distress waiting for her abuser to realize what an ass he was and turn into her rescuer.
And the reason it makes me so mad is that in real life, there are women who feel like if they can just endure being treated like shit, one day the fuck boy they're with is going to miraculously become Prince Charming.
And that irritates the FUCK out of me. Because there is no better liar than the person who lies to themselves.
And I just really hate lies.
So I'm not going to lie to you. I don't really know when part two of Harpreet will be up. It might be tomorrow; it might be next weekend. But I will say that I am trying to manage my time better.
So have a good week, visit my bookpages and tell your friends.
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