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Too tired and my mind is numb. I’ve been trying to write the same chapter for at least three hours and I’ve gotten nowhere. I just can’t stand my own company anymore.
The phone rings and I grit my teeth, shoving yet another anxious knot in my stomach down to the pits of hell where they should always reside.
I pick it up and sigh when I see that it’s my editor yet again. “Really, Jaxon. What the hell? I’m working on it and you calling every five minutes to ask me if I’ve finished it is not actually accomplishing anything other than keeping me stressed out and wanting to hunt your ass down and beat you to death.”
He huffs. “I can’t just call to check on my favorite paranormal author?”
I lift a brow and wait in silence. I know he can’t see me but I hope that the silence is conveying just exactly how much I don’t believe a word of what he said.
“Fine. I am checking on the book. But this isn’t like you. Two deadlines that you’ve missed when you’ve never even missed one before.”
“And that should tell you that I’m going to get this finished. I’ve just hit a little hole in the story and I’m trying to figure out how to fix it. I wish I knew more about witches.”
“So go online and research like you always do. Honestly, I don’t know exactly what is stopping you. You do this stuff all the time. Just power up that old computer of yours from 1986 and start trolling for info on witches.”
“Really? Like I haven’t thought about that. I want something a little more personal than that. I want to know how they think and what it’s like to wield that kind of power.”
“Pretty sure it’s just like any power. It’s got its good and bad sides.”
“Fine. I’m curious and I can’t figure out why a witch would choose to be a witch and how they feel about their power. What makes them use it for good and if they know of any instances where it’s been used for something bad.”
“I’d say that’s a given. Someone always twists a good thing to make it do bad things. Why don’t you just do what every other author out there does and make shit up? You’re really thinking too hard on this one.”
I don’t really know the answer to that question but I do know that there’s something driving me to delve deeper into the whole thing. Something that fascinates me.
I’ve written about werewolves and vampires. My last vampire series was a best-seller which is why they’re driving me nuts to get this one out.
But it was so popular that I’m almost scared to put it out. Not without having the story perfectly fleshed out so that it’s as absolutely well-written and researched as I can get it.
I’m still not entirely sure when and why I decided my next series needed to be witches and warlocks. I was drifting off to sleep one night and it’s like a little, insidious voice whispered in my ear, “Witches.”
From then on, it’s like it was a foregone conclusion that I needed to write this book. Write this whole series.
But my own stupid insecurities are killing me here.
“You know what? I might have something for you. There’s an app that a friend of mine developed that’s specifically for supernaturals and the Crystal Connection is for witches and warlocks.”
“What is it?” I hesitate, wondering if this is a good idea. But there’s just something about that name and this situation that feels right. Like I need to know more. It’s imperative. “And what do you mean supernaturals?”
“You know, what you write about.”
I snort. “That’s all from my imagination and research on old wives tales.”
“They’re not tales. It’s really true stuff.”
“No way,” I scoff.
“No, it’s true. But they don’t like people to know most of the time because people can be so weird and they’ve had issues with humans before. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t know you and your own issues.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, running my hands through my hair. My issues. I don’t talk about my issues with other people either. I got drunk once with my editor and whined about my problems. I never get drunk and that one time at the company Christmas party was a mess because I broke up with my fiancé and finding myself alone and heart-broken, I made a mistake.
Luckily it was only Jaxon and I know he has my back but it was enough to give me a small chill and remember why I don’t get drunk.
Not to mention that the emotional toll is huge. Normally I’m strong enough to block out most of the inner voices rampaging over my consciousness until I’m ready to tear my own hair out and fall to the floor.
I can feel them niggling at the back of my brain right now and it’s got my body zinging with anxiety and sorrow. That’s the reason when I go to book signings, which are few and far between, I end up with at least a week’s worth of holing up in my house to detox from all the damn voices.
“Hellooo, Leo! What the hell are you doing? Did you go to sleep?”
