Excerpt -Between Death and Heaven; Out Now.

Gerrit, read it, love it, review it, reap the free sequel, share...

Hashtag Procrastination

Thoughts become things. I said I was going to put some smutty smut in my story, and voila! It just wrote itself. I was not prepared. Anyone who knows me will not be prepared. I'm thinking about using a pseudonym.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about today. Remember about two posts ago when I said I don't like to leave the house because it really makes me tired and I can't work? (I'm paraphrasing) well...I haven't done a lick of work all weekend and the problem with procrastination is once it overtakes you; its difficult to escape. Like, I'm just like, "Annemarie! get to work. Now!", using my sternest voice. So far it hasn't taken yet.

I did write a bit more on The Swamp and I'm very excited about where that story is taking me. It should be done by week's end. After that, well its up to you.

Hi. My Name is...

I was supposed to give myself a day off today. I had a meeting to attend on the other side of town; might as well be the back of beyond it was so far. So I figured what with cramping and shit; I would be good for nothing for the rest of the night by the time I got home.

 Yet. Here I am, its 1am and I still haven't gone to sleep. Been 'updating my information' on the book sites, writing a post on facebook about it, and now, here I am on what is fast becoming my writing diary, updating you on what a writing addict looks like.

Addiction runs in my family; its usually the bad kind with alcohol and shit. I guess I missed that boat. I thought I'd escaped it entirely until I started writing. Now I write until my arm is aching so much I can't write anymore. I'm thinking about getting that technology in that movie starring Tom Cruise or Denzel Washington...some hollywood big wig playing paralysed; he had this microphone thing he used to type things into the computer by talking.

 I think that would be such a handy device to have no? Though my voice would sooner or later go hoarse too I suppose. So I'm thinking maybe I should write just two sentences before I sleep. I've told myself that before. Usually I end up writing until 6am and then forcing myself to sleep. Its a problem.

I've decided I'm definitely making The Swamp an R-rated feature. Some kinky supernatural sex and definitely some violence. 

Its only fitting. I'm an adult after all; my fave is Rihanna. I owe it to myself. Bitch Better Have My Money.

Writing...The Process, The Writer's Block, The Everything

So a few years ago a story came to me, and asked me to write it. It began with Mya, a black girl, high school age; a loner much like me, but a lot more sassy yet quiet with it. Wait a minute...that's also like me. Am I writing a story about myself? Except that I'm not seventeen and my name isn't Mya. I don't want to believe I have that level of 'M.Night douchieness' as one of my favourite fictional writer characters said, so I'm gonna go with no.

Anyway, Mya was having issues from being in the bulls eye of Small Louisiana Town's version of 'Mean Girls' to well, other more let's say universally relevant to humanity issues. So seeing as I need to come up with a publication date for this book and so you haven't read it; I'll stop there. What I wanted to say is that this book seemed to have grown, sprouted infants all over the place, taken directions I wasn't expecting but am helpless to follow...in other words, its slowly becoming its own alternate universe. A universe I hope to share with you and hopefully you'll get as lost in it as I have.

The challenge with getting everything out there like now, today, no waiting, is that the more I write, the more outside jobs I get to write. and sometimes, though not often, I have to eat. and sleep. People sometimes want to see me. It eats into that writing time that's so limited to begin with. We're getting there though. Stay with me.