I think all authors go through it once in a while – writers block. I’ve been dealing with it since I wrapped up Secrets & Lies back in July. Talk about depressing and annoying and a HUGE issue when I have a book that I want to work on but can’t seem to get in touch with.
So, what did a great friend and fellow author recommend when I asked what to do?
Not on books. Not on writing. Not on being a successful author.
She told me to give up trying to force the issue. That when I was ready, my characters would start speaking to me like they use to and I would get back on track. I knew she was a wise lady.
Well, a few weeks ago I started to hear whispers. Then, last week the voices were a little louder and I was able to finish my outline for Saving Bliss. A few days ago, I wrote some of their story again for the first time in months – 149 days to be exact. (if I calculated that correctly)
Today, I wrote a little bit more and for the remainder of the month, I’ve scheduled time to keep writing, a little at a time. I’m still not going to push it. I’m still going to listen to them without asking questions. I’m still going to let them dictate the pace. Why? Because so far, it seems to be working and I’m FINALLY writing again.
It’s funny that NOW I’m writing again. I went back to my high school last month and gave a presentation to a short stories class for a former teacher and mentor of mine. I can’t help but wonder if some of this stemmed from the amazing support I felt from that group of kids that didn’t know anything about me but wanted to know more than time would allow me to tell them. I can’t help but wonder if all of this stemmed from me doubting myself and that feeling like I was doing something important, that I was actually touching lives, helped the clouds to clear a little and the fog to lift.
Whatever it was that allowed me to hear Bliss and Owen again, I could not be more thankful.
Like I said, I’ve only written a little but I would love to share it with all of you.
Staring down the barrel of a gun has never been on my to-do list. Unfortunately, it never needs to be if I make it out of this alive. They say that your life flashes before your eyes. They’re wrong. I’m not thinking about my life at this moment. I’m not thinking about what will happen next. I’m frozen, my eyes fixated on the cold metal that’s pointed directly at me. The shiny gray that’s catching the light and making the gun look soft and smooth, less scary in a way, but scarier at the same time.
No, I’m not thinking about the life I’ve lived up to this point or even the life that I’ll miss out on should his finger flinch. I’m thinking about how the hell I’m going to get out of this situation and praying that I’m able to. I’m willing myself to look around, to look away from the gun, to look for something that might help me, or someone that might take pity on me.
I wonder where Owen is. He was paid to protect me and he’s failed. I should have known he would fail. After all, I didn’t exactly make it easy for him to keep me safe. Now, I’m wishing that I had listened to him more. That I had heeded his advice. We never listen to the ones we love.
The gun moves, the light reflecting in my eye, and I attempt to scream. My lips tear at the duct tape that’s covering them but no sounds comes out. My heart is racing and breathing is becoming difficult. I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to calm down but it’s not use. I’m not going to be able to calm down. Not until my situation changes. Not until I know that I will survive this. Not until I see his face again and he tells me that everything is going to be alright.
I squeeze my eyes closed and pray. I pray for a miracle that I don’t believe will happen. I need to believe that it’s possible. I need to keep my focus on getting the hell out of here. I need to stay calm and breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Ex-
“Hey beautiful. What are you doing in this horrible place?” His voice is so soft, only above a whisper, but I can hear him.
“He took me. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. You were right.” My voice is shaky but loud.
“I know.” I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t.
“What do you mean? You knew he was going to take me? You know where I am?” I’m frustrated and I know that he can hear it in my voice.
Owen grins at me. His lopsided, sexy-as-hell, grin that makes my heart swoon. I allow myself to smile on the inside but not visibly. I don’t want him to know that he’s getting to me. I don’t want him to know how I feel about him. Things would get too complicated between us.
What am I thinking? Nothing can get more complicated than the situation I’m in right now. The only way I’m going to get out of this situation is with Owen’s help. I need him now more than ever. He has to know that without me saying it out loud.
I look up and we make eye contact. I’m staring into his baby blues and he’s staring back at me. The moment he sees the need in my eyes I see it. His eyes go dark as if the storm that’s raging inside him has just broken free. Now I allow myself to smile. That storm is my hope. That storm is the only hope I have of getting out of here alive, of being rescued.
“Take me home, Owen. Please.” It’s all I can think to say.
That’s when he turns his back to me and starts to walk away. Where’s he going? Why isn’t he taking me with him? The farther he gets from me the more I want to shout at him to come back but I’ve lost my voice. No, the tape is on my mouth again.
“Wake up bitch!” I hear the words just as I feel something hard hit the side of my head.
I open my eyes to find the gun is still pointing at me. The sleek gun-metal gray shining in the light, taunting me. It was just a dream. Owen isn’t here to rescue me. He might not even know where I am. I have no idea where I am. What I do know is that he’s my only chance to get out of here alive.
I look up at him, past the gun, and right into his eyes. I see the devil staring back at me. How was I naive enough to trust him? How did I not see this coming? Was my desire to hide my feelings for Owen so strong that I was willing to look past every warning he gave me?