That is your brain on 20,000 words in a week. Or, I guess, it's my brain on 20,000 words in a week. Also, for the record, going through two years of DMs on Twitter to find any information you might have forgotten for development in your story (including exactly which tattoos your writing partner gave the scary, over-baked cinnamon roll Russian man that is our male MC)... is a lot like what it's like to go through the Official Records of the Civil War for your senior thesis, i.e. scrolling through THOUSANDS OF MISSIVES LOOKING FOR THE ONE YOU NEED TO CITE. I knew my degree would come in handy eventually. *sigh*
Laras is going to kill me for calling him a cinnamon roll. It's over-baked, Laras! It's hard and crunch in the middle, too!
Rig and Lucky are giving me serious heart eyes right now. They just met and the partnership is already right on track. This bodes well for Anya's eventual return. Lucky doesn't know it yet, but his predecessor left all his memories of her intact because he couldn't bear to forget her.
And to think I originally planned for Lucky and Anya to be exes. Not acrimonious, or anything, just exes. He was going to end up with Z, the New Firm Enforcer, but no... Anya and Lucky protested. #relationshipgoals
2152 words and one chapter down! (Well, nine. But I can't count the other eight chapters because I wrote them before NaNo.)
So the lady who makes my perfume has a new set of scents based on Romeo and Juliet (called Montague and Capulet). I got so excited, I added a sample of Montague immediately. This based entirely on the fact that I like Romeo better than Juliet in my novel.
I will also be wearing it to see Romeo and Juliet at the beginning of September.
Lucky thought he might have been screaming, but there was no proof he wasn’t laughing. Or maybe it was both, and neither. A phantasmagoria unfolded before him, a kaleidoscope of sensations too many and too loud to explain or pinpoint. His mind exploded and reformed a thousand times, going mad and exulting in the heights of genius, realizing they were one and the same. Fear paralyzed him. Fierce, unexpected courage turned his bones to steel. He burned, he drowned, and he flew. Caution warred with reckless abandon, and both won. He was all of it. Everything. He was mortality writ large and small, the monumental and the quotidian, each one part of the narrative of human existence.
So, worldbuilders of Writing.com! Are you looking to build a realistic religion, but don't plan on having the actual gods running around (aka living gods)? Or maybe you're not even a worldbuilder and just want to read a really cool blog on how you can eventually create a realistic religion down the road?
Well, look no further! Because my friend--aka my oldest friend in the world (almost 17 years) and historian/writer doppelganger--has decided this is exactly the blog you need!
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