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That Moment When I realize I’m Not That Interesting…

When I sat down with Amy Lane at Yaoi Con, we talked about social media presence and doing everything I could for readership. She said, “Whatever you do, be consistent, and don’t make it all about writing.”

I can’t post about writing when I haven’t been doing enough of it. I haven’t finished BATR yet, so I don’t have a book to beta or submit. I have ideas for rewriting the first chapter of the first book in my fantasy series AGAIN (this would be the third rewrite). I have trunked books that I could take out and revamp, but nobody’s got time for that.

I can’t post about my job because it’s boring. I evaluate insurance agents in a call center.

Fuck. 

My. 

Life. 

I chose this because it was better than working for my lazy-ass former best friend in a dead-end job. The only chance of promotion was her death, which I found myself actively plotting. Fear for my soul pushed me to switch jobs.

The Lemur appreciates that I have a job, but he also knows that any job other than writing kills my soul a little each day. I used to pretend that writing evaluations improved my writing, back when we were writing full paragraphs instead of one or two sentences. I used to write 1% or 2% passive. Now, it’s more like 15%. I need a job where I can write like a normal person, where I have a chance to improve.

I could post about The Lemur, but nothing changes there. We laugh. We talk. We play video games. We go for the occasional walk. We eat meals together. We play with the dog. We do things I won’t mention in this blog, even if you did click the button that says you’re over 18. That’s personal.

I will also not post about family because then you’ll be able to identify them as characters, or at least situations. That’s how I write what I know. My family, my friends, my co-workers, sometimes even people on the other end of the phone when I answer. My dreamer’s mind doesn’t really see someone as they are. It sees potential. Everyone I meet has potential to end up in one of my novels.

See? I’m not that interesting. Something will come up in the next few days to spark my passion and I will write about it on Tuesday. Until then, I’m being consistent without really telling you anything about me. I guess that’s fitting. My sister said she liked my pen name because it sounds mysterious.

Edie Montreux, Ms. Mysterious.

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