Waves everyone! I looked back at my blog and I haven’t checked in since #WIPMarathon Post #4. It’s been awhile.

Last Report WC For WIP:  Zero

Current Report WC For WIP: 40,482 (On NaNo Rewrite)

Writing Issues This Month:

As always, finding that balance between, writing, the family, and the day job.
I’m reworking my NaNoWriMo project and adding in an alternating male POV. My writer’s collective said my hero was coming off too feminine. I reworked chapter one and they said I did much better.
Going from YA to NA. I also got feedback for my heroine was coming off too young. Working on this.

Four things I learned this month while writing:

Never give up.
Give your internal editor a vacation when you’re fast drafting.
It’s okay to have a crappy draft. You can fix it, unlike a white blank page.
My CP is awesome sauce.

What distracted me this month while writing: Fear of failure.

Goals for next month:

Finish my rewrite via the fast draft process.

Finish revision hell.

Send New Adult Contemporary to CP’s.

Last 200 words:

I stared at the million-dollar view of Los Angeles. In my glass, the best scotch money could buy. I should appreciate life more. Instead, I chewed on regret like it was rubbery gum I had no place to spit. As if I needed a reminder, my shoulder pinched in pain, like a trail of fire lit by a match that seared down my arm.

The doctors said they didn’t know why it hurt. Said they fixed me right up. All doctors had opinions and you know what they say about them… One even told me it was all in my head. Nope. I knew what pain was.

My leg bounced. Where is Harvey? Harvey Fine, owner of the LA Stars, had to push our meeting to 7 pm, and of course, he was late.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and pulled up the latest texts from my new recruit. If I could convince this guy to sign I think Harvey would include me in his will. I never thought I would feel out of touch at twenty-three, but reading a text from Zane, the nineteen-year-old phenom, made me feel like the grumpy old man I emulated. He said shit that went over my head. When did I get shoved off the cool-slang train?

The kid had a million dollar arm, an ego bigger than Harvey’s house, and dreams bigger than our stadium. You could practically see the stars in his eyes. When my mom used watch me play, she’d say that about me.