Shortly, as in the new year, you will see short fiction posted to this site, rather than the small snippets that you see now. To do this, I’ll be overhauling the site.
You’ll also likely see some shots from my trip to Scotland, which is being taken care of by a friend of mine who is hosting me while I’m there.
So if you see some bugs, let me know and I’ll work on stamping them out. 
Mirrored from Amy M. Young.
I’m writing, ever so slowly, as I’m revising while I’m writing. But, as I write I like to have music playing. It helps me to motivate the scene and to keep things flowing.
Right now I’m listening to a mix of tunes, a lot of Jorn, Brother Firetribe and Leverage, and the following, which will likely never see the light as part of a story, has come to me.
As darkness fades away, the first rays of light crossing the floor, and sleep’s been out of question on this bumping, rumbling bus. It’s been over a month since I saw anyone I loved, but that’s what I’ve given up to be a warrior of show business. The days and city signs flash by me – the life of a rock star is slowly killing me by inches, and I can’t stop the cycle now that it’s started.
It’s another addiction, the cheering of the crowds. It’s like heroin – you can’t live without it, withdrawal is painful beyond words. Fame just happens to be the side effect of it – almost like a delusion that comes and goes depending on the way the wind blows.
Music is my motivation for writing. I’ve come up with countless “soundtracks” to what I write, maybe some day I will share them when I am done my novel’s revisions.
Mirrored from Amy M. Young.
Today I sat down, and finally had reached my lowest point. I don’t know where things are going to go from here on out, all I know is that they can’t get much worse then they are right now. I’ve got one step between me and much worse,and I’m desperately hoping it doesn’t come down to that, because I can’t handle it.
But, in all of this I turned back to my writing, and found my old drafts for a novel that I’d been working on, the one that I’d written the first draft of in a year, well, less than a year… about 10 months. I’m in the middle of rewrites on that, and rereading what I’d put on the page, I found myself happy with what I’d written, which for me, is no small miracle.
See, I have an intensely high level of expectation of myself. I expect to do a job, and do it well. You could say people like myself live in constant disappointment – because we do. Expecting yourself to be perfect or near to all the time is hard on your self-esteem and self-image. I’m slowly learning how to temper that instinct, and today was one small victory.
I actually enjoyed my own writing.
Maybe the upswing has started, ever so slowly.
Mirrored from Amy M. Young.
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timeasmymeasure
