It's such a contradiction. I can't love real people, and yet I write romance. It makes no sense. What you read is me chasing after my muse on the page. I want to go to her. I want her to take this pain away. Except she's not...really here. I know she's not. It's maddening.
I wanted to describe this process to the other two people. Not long after I finished their letters, the sentiments left me and stayed on the page. I don't care about conveying this to them anymore. It's not worth paying the postage for. I told one of them about this: that I planned on writing her a letter and sending her a copy of my book, and that I changed my mind. Like she did.
I want you to blame her for reminding me of this pain. It's a brilliant tool to write with. Unpleasant otherwise. Very unpleasant...
Because of this, I'm back to writing Venus and Lysander. I set a ridiculous goal of writing one chapter a day. Depending on how I decide to wrap up the ending, I have six (or seven...probably six) more chapters to go. I'm annoyed though because chapters five and six work best from Val's point of view. And so will chapter seven. Three chapters in a row from the same point of view, though? That's unprecedented for me. This is a drawback of writing alternating points of view from the first person. Oh well.
As for fanfiction, I don't have any more ideas. I thought I did, for Rise and Naoto. Writing one of those letters I'll never send ended up finishing that story for me. I need to focus my energy into Venus and Lysander, and then Ruska after this.
Maxwell's new album is out today <3 and I'll gladly wait another eight years for the third album in the trilogy if need be.