Writer’s Block

I was having trouble finishing Contracted due to a few things. The first being that whenever I’d get on a roll, my upstairs neighbour would start blasting music so loud that it sounded like it was coming from my bedroom. It was also rap music just over half the time, then a mix of emo-rock and country the rest of the time.

Now, I’ve got nothing against people who listen to those types of music. Except when they blast it and destroy my chapters. I listen to adult contemporary, or something like that, to write. The tones through the music tend to flow together and work with my writing speed. It also keeps me going when I want to slow down, helps join the thoughts together.

Otherwise, the only time I have a problem with other music listeners is when they force me to listen to it until late hours of the night.

The other issue I was having was that the first and second books dealt with a very narrow scope of time. They were clear written and I knew what happened in every chapter, and in some that didn’t make it into the books (there’s only so much sex I can include before it looks like I don’t care about the rest of their lives) while the third book focuses on about six months of time and was just this event that had nothing to really do with their personal lives, and then the sex that happened.

It was a conflicted bounce back and forth and thanks to interruptions, I think I missed the point where there is a transition or explanation.

Two nights ago Dorian came over—this is important—and I was sitting on my couch with music blasting, trying to get out a sex scene. He shut off my music (because he’s like that) and asked why I was playing two types of music. Then he walked into my bedroom and back out.

My apartment is a small loft style. I can’t afford much, but I scored an amazing apartment thanks to Dorian knowing the landlord. There are no doors for me to close during the day to shut out more of the sound.

“What’s up with that? Is she blasting to cover your music?”

“No, you know I don’t like it that loud. I was just trying to drown her out so that I could finish this sex scene.”

He asked what the scene involved and I responded before my brain caught up to me.

Note to self, never tell Dorian you’re stuck on a sex scene. Let alone give him the details of the scene.

“Well, then, let me give you some inspiration.”

So good, but so wrong.

Because a 1990’s television show was blasting through my ceiling so it was all done to a laugh track and a dialogue that I almost managed to blot out.

Laying in bed afterwards, Dorian can see the tension starting to build in me as the night wore on and the sound didn’t stop. I need quiet. Without it, I get edgy and will even start crying if it goes too far.

“Have you filed a complaint yet?”

“No, I don’t want her to retaliate. People always retaliate.”

“You can file the complaint, or I can go up there right now and retaliate myself.”

I filed the complaint, quoting the lease everyone in the building has to sign, which states after 10PM is quiet time. Not filing the complaint wouldn’t have involved Dorian actually going upstairs, but it probably would have ended in a fight between the two of us and I didn’t want that. He was also right, I should have said something three weeks ago when it reached this volume.

Where I can hear the lyrics or dialogue as if it’s coming from my bedroom, it’s too loud.

Yesterday I sat down to write, meaning to write a short story so that I could publish that and make a few dollars while I worked on the trilogy. Maybe use that money to pay for better covers…

Instead, I finished the Contracted trilogy. This morning I thought, “Hey, what about calling them Contract Taken, Contract Broken, Contract Renewed.” and texted Beth. She thinks I’m crazy and need more sleep.

The first and second books need some alterations to make everything flow properly. The second needs a change that I decided to go with after the fact. The third probably needs extensive re-writes from about the half-way point.

At this moment, the story is on my phone and Beth’s phone. We’re both going to read it and then she’s going to tell me that she doesn’t like it, but maybe it has something to it (Beth doesn’t read erotica or romance because she can’t get into the plot).

I’ve read Beth’s books before and each of those is just under 300 pages. The Contracted trilogy comes to just over 700 pages. Though Beth’s always has the front and back matter attached and I have plans to flesh out the details and the fun stuff on the first two, then re-write the third to include some things that got lost as Kid Rock shouted at me from my bedroom.

This is a lot of work. Why in the hell did I think this was a good idea?

Oh, that’s right. Because I can’t imagine living my life without writing.

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