Book

8

Well, life goes on I suppose.

Have been entirely unmotivated in regards to writing.
I like reading romance or any genre that includes some romance.
So naturally that is the genre that I like to write.
Which is all fine and dandy when I'm too young have any in real life.
But when one suddenly finds one's self the same age as her main characters it becomes rather awkward.
When I started the book the ages of my characters seemed so old to me. They must mature and experienced in life enough for love.
Now that I find myself the same age I know for a fact I am not.
And yet, maybe I am.
But then if I am why hasn't anything changed?

This has just been a long round about explanation to say I can't write the genre I like to read and write anymore.

Until a few weeks ago I had a dream about this fat King and politics and stuff.
I was so inspired that I started writing a book about it.

Until I read the partial story to my sister and she found the whole thing quite strange.

I might post what I wrote on here just to satiate anyone's curiosity that might be peaked.

But it didn't really have romance in mind, and I thought it could be really cool.

I don't really like it now.
But it was fun to have the pen in my hand and words flowing onto the page.

5/4/2020