...except brunette. (Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd have to wear like three pushup bras to achieve this amount of cleavage.) I will slay this new story. I will beat it into submission with my iron will.
Lol. Yeah, that lasts about five minutes. So I write, and write, and write some more. Sometimes I get distracted, at which point I make faces in the mirror:
It's very attractive. My first drafts tend to be on the long side, but I'm always convinced that my next story will be different. This one will end up a respectable 75-80K.
LOL again. Kate is delusional.
So then I reach 75K, and suddenly I realize that this story is only like half done and DAMN IT IT'S GONG TO BE LIKE 150K AND MY AGENT WILL DROP ME AND NO PUBLISHER WILL COME NEAR ME WITH A TWENTY FOOT POLE AND A STICK OF DYNAMITE ALDKSJFKL:LS:JF:LJSDLKJ.
Commence freak out. Blarggggg. And once the freakout's done, self-pity sets in with a vengeance. I'll never be good enough. My story sucks. Crycrycrycrycry:
And my mom is like, "Kate, what's wrong?" And I'm all, "Everything is stupid and this story is stupid and everyone will hate it and it's too long why can't I write short books like Taryn or Kita and nooooooooooooo." Then I spout off a bunch of publishing industry mumbo jumbo and my mom's like:
But because she's my mom and she's awesome, she pretends to get it, even though we both realize she knows jack squat about the publishing industry. Then I eat my feelings.
Yeah. I'm currently going through the eating my feelings stage, if you can't tell. My mom recently commented on how quickly I go through tubs of ice cream. You know it's bad when your family has to buy ice cream three times a week.
There you have it. My writing process in Buffy pictures. I'm hoping it'll end up like this, all bad ass and conquer-y (shut up, don't judge my made up word):
But I guess we shall see.