So, I am sitting here, working on a story that I started back in the spring of last year, or trying to work on it though. I just recently found it again and worked through the writers block that kept me from continuing last year. I feel a little bad that I'm working on it because my Civil War piece lays untouched on my other computer. I've tried to pick up where I left off a few other times, but I'm just not inspired to write these days. It has a lot to do with my environment. Our computer is connected to the TV, because Jordan punched in our monitor screen, so I'm sitting cross legged at the coffee table, typing this right now. That's just not how I want to work. I want a desk. I want an actual computer and my own office where I can be inspired at my own privacy. I can close the door and not be bothered by my herd of animals. I can tell you right now that I have to backspace each sentence due to the Pomeranian who keeps jumping on the keyboard. It's not not a working environment! Ugh I just can't bring myself to write like this.
Anyway, the story I am attempting to work on is untitled, but I do have a vague synopsis.
Claire is a young woman who lived her life to the fullest. She was carefree and vibrant, and adored the life she lived along with her loving husband, Ben. When they found out they were pregnant, she could barely contain her enthusiasm. Claire's reality changes when their child dies after delivery. A pain she had never felt before hits home and what she once hoped and dreamed for is shattered. She finds that nothing will ever be the same. After hitting a rock bottom, can she find her way back home? Can she find all that she had lost? Can she salvage her marriage and her life? Can she save herself?
Wow that was awful. I'll revise it later.
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