So, today I have two things going on. First of all it's IWSG. For anyone who doesn't know, that's the Insecure Writers Support Group hosted by ALEX CAVANAUGH. It takes place on the first Wed. of every month and is an awesome group for any writer looking for some extra shoulders to lean on. If you're interested in becoming a part of it, the linky list is on Alex's site.
I guess what I'm most insecure about right now is inspiration. I’m working on a new book, trying to find my rhythm with it and finding it very difficult. It’s really easy to make excuses to put it aside. Too easy.
I know making a career out of this is going to require me to write on all days, including the ones where each word I haul from my brain to the keyboard weighs a thousand pounds. So I'm trying to just power through and ignore my lack of inspiration. Hopefully, by the time the next IWSG rolls around, the words will be coming easily again.
But, that being said, if anyone has some good tips on finding inspiration again, I'd love to hear them!
Anyway...onto the second part of this blogpost...
The scene I chose to go with for the blogfest is from my first book, Skipping Time.
In this scene, Jess (guy) and his best friend, Cacee (girl) are stuck in New York City, 1992 with no way of returning to the present time. They managed to get a cheap motel room until they could figure out what to do. The scene starts with Jess waking up. He's surprised to find Cacee snuggled up to him, sound asleep on his shoulder. He's lying there, daydreaming about kissing her, when Cacee wakes up.
***Also, I feel the need to add that they'd both gotten up like a half hour before this and brushed their teeth. haha. I hate it when people write first-thing-in-the-morning kiss scenes and nobody brushes their teeth, it skeeves me out.
Cacee stirred again and opened her eyes, tilting her head to look at him. She gave him a sleepy smile.
Jess chuckled. “How do you do that?”
She answered in a drowsy voice, still lying on his shoulder. “Do what?”
He swallowed. “Wake up looking so cute.”
Cacee’s eyes fully opened. He half expected her to roll away and shrug the comment off, given how upset she’d been last night.
Instead, she smiled shyly. “Since when do you think I’m cute?”
His voice came out husky. “Since always, Cace. I’ve never understood how you can’t see what you look like.”
He hesitantly pushed her hair out of her face. Surprising him again, she didn’t pull away. He let his hand rest on her head. “You’re way too pretty to hide behind your hair.”
Cacee gave him a tiny smile, “I don’t hide. I blend. There’s a difference”
Her lashes were lowered, but she stayed in his arms. Her tank top had ridden up to her waist and he didn’t have a shirt on. They were touching from shoulder to foot, her skin scorching his side, her head still resting on him. He could see her pulse pounding in her throat.
Okay. Something was definitely happening here. And God, he wanted it to happen. But that didn't mean it should. He knew that. How many times had he promised himself he wouldn't do this, even if Cacee miraculously decided she wanted to? But, in all those arguments, he'd never seriously thought she'd want to. And now they were here and...and...The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them.“You don’t need to blend. You’re beautiful, Cace.”
Her lashes lifted and she stared at him, her eyes like the rainwater that dotted the earth after a summer storm, reflections of shadowy-blue edged in sunlight.
He rolled, so her head lay on the pillow and leaned on his elbow, looking down at her. He stayed close enough to feel the heat of her skin and let his gaze fall to her mouth before lifting back to her eyes, wordlessly asking. Cacee’s hands slid up his chest to wrap around his neck.
It didn't matter that he knew what was happening. He still felt a shock of pure disbelief. He took a ragged breath and watched the desire that burned through him flare in her eyes. His heart stopped and then rebounded, pumping twice as fast. Some tiny part of his brain still blared warning signals and he hesitated.
As if sensing his resistance, and exactly what it would take to melt it, Cacee moved her hands again, trailing her fingers slowly down his back. The light touch inflamed him, and he made a low sound in his throat, suddenly fighting not to yank her mouth against his. He lowered his head, keeping the movement deliberately slow.
Cacee whispered against his mouth, “We have to talk.”
He nodded and murmured, “Later.”
He felt himself nod again. He would’ve promised her his E-True Hollywood Story in that moment. He couldn’t think of anything but the curve of her bottom lip, less than an inch from his, couldn’t feel anything but need that pounded through him like liquid flame.
A loud knock at the door made them both jump. Shane leapt up and bared his teeth. Jess had never wanted to hit anyone as badly as he wanted to nail the asshole on the other side of that door.