Dear Readers,
I hope you are all well.
I deeply regret to inform you all that I’m going on a Break for two weeks. I’ll start posting chapters on RR from July 1st.
Nowadays, every ti I sit down to write, I feel like my head is wrapped in a thick blanket that suffocates . Or maybe it is just pure laziness and procrastination. I don’t know. I’m so confused, anxious, and disappointed in myself.
A few days ago, I finished writing the last chapter of my book 1 on Patreon. But writing that last chapter was akin to rolling a large boulder uphill with blindfolds on.
My book one was supposed to be about 200k words, but it exceeded that limit by 35k words. Every extra chapter I needed to write was another wound to my ntal sanity. I was afraid that my publisher wouldn’t accept the manuscript. But I wanted the final chapter of book 1 to be perfect. So, it took a long ti to finish writing it.
Now, I’m faced with another dilemma. Writing chapter 1 of Book Two feels even more daunting. In two weeks, I’ve been able to write a single chapter! Can you believe it? And I call myself an author.
Every day I missed writing a chapter was another stone slab upon my chest. Slowly, the fla of inspiration burning inside my chest beca a tiny spark. The word docunt I opened everyday beca a reflection of my mind - blank, empty.
Before I knew it, the advanced chapters on Patreon dwindled to 15 from 20. That’s when I realized I had to make an announcent.
Sure, I can continue with the scheduled release of the chapters I’ve already written on RR, but that wouldn’t be fair to my patrons. Not until I can start writing again and accumulate a few more advanced chapters.
So, I’m giving myself 2 weeks to make a decent outline and churn out those chapters once again.
I’m still hesitating to go on a break because I’m afraid of disappointing you guys and losing followers. But it seems I’ve already dug my grave and am well on my way to decline. I have to start collecting the pieces I’ve lost so that I can start feeling like myself again.
Thank you so much for your support. And sorry for disappointing you all.
Sincerely,
Senseofbeing.
I’m always trying to figure out ways to improve my writing process. However, it is difficult to do so without receiving proper feedback.
I had written these two scenes randomly about 2 months ago. These are not part of a larger story. Just sothing that I wanted to pour out of . I’m very hesitant to share these two scenes since I wrote them without any prior planning, in under 30 minutes each. It is raw and unedited. However, I really enjoyed writing in this style.
If you are curious, can you give them a read and let know your opinion? I just want feedback on whether this style of writing feels better than my usual writing style. No pressure, of course!
Scene 1
Jack had been drowning in his sorrow, lining his table with whiskey glasses as if they were trophies when he spotted the beautiful redhead. Her flawless fair skin, bright cherry clips, and immaculate dressing sense lit up a fire in his heart.
As if a ray of sunshine pierced through the cloud of sorrowness that inhabited his being. They say everything happens for a good reason.
Although he couldn’t completely agree with the statent yet - not when he was accused of theft and fired from his job, and after his girlfriend of 9 years left him - he was open to changing his beliefs.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
After all, if he hadn’t lost his job, and wasn't angry or pissed, he wouldn’t have co to the bar to drink and witness this gorgeous lady. Perhaps this is a sign. He put the whiskey glass down.
Maybe I should approach her and spark up a conversation.
However, as soon as he got up, it was evident that God had played a cruel joke on him. Three n with dark skin tones casually strolled up to the lady and occupied the empty seats beside her.
For a mont, Jack was astounded. These n had thick gold chains wrapped around their necks and diamond rings adorning their fingers. These were not common n; they were nacing thugs.
Should I interrupt them or just observe? He struggled to make a decision. Nobody in this establishnt could hope to stop these thugs if they decided to harass the lady.
However, what he witnessed afterwards left him dumbfounded. The lady didn’t seem frightened by the newcors even in the slightest.
They interacted casually, but not too friendly. As one would behave in the presence of their clients during a business deal. Hatred boiled inside his chest as he noticed the group leave the bar, one of the n placing a hand on her waist.
Nobody needed to explain to him what had happened. By all indications, the lady seed like a prostitute, but his heart scread otherwise. He didn't want to believe it.
Why? He racked his brain for an explanation as he slumped down on the chair. How co such a beautiful woman went down this path?
The woman appeared to be sculpted by divine hands. No doubt, she was just as intelligent as she was beautiful. She could’ve gotten a high-paying job anywhere in the city - a doctor, engineer, or even a lawyer.
Was it simply money that pulled her down this path? He was angry at the lady, at all womankind, but mostly at himself for falling for such a girl.
Why are won like that? Sowhere in his mind, he heard the laughter of his ex-girlfriend, Emma. Is it her curse?
No, I have to find out the truth. He couldn’t sleep, otherwise. After paying the bill, he exited the bar with a renewed focus - determined to follow the lady and unearth her motivations.
***
Scene 2
Gin witnessed the swords displayed so brazenly on the stalls - where even a child could witness it. The shopkeepers proudly declared their make and material, sotis announcing nas of blades crafted by famous bladesmiths.
Hordes of teens, not old enough to grow beards, buzzed around these shops accompanied by n who wore battle-borne scars. What is there to be happy about? He grumbled.
He decided that this part of the country might not have witnessed any wars. Otherwise, the little fools would have known that the tal pieces they marvelled at were nothing but objects of resentnt.
Every blade radiated sharpness that felt as if they could slice through the wind itself. Perfect for dissecting a human body. How many human lives will they exact when wielded by a fearso warrior? How many families will they plunge into despair?
He felt sickened. The laughter of the demon locked inside him echoed through his mind. The parasite wriggled inside his heart, eliciting a fresh new wave of mories depicting his onslaught on the battlefield, severing the heads and limbs of enemies.
The taunt was sharp - He wasn't one to talk.
No, that's different. With an effort of will, he prevented his emotions from spiralling out of control. That was for duty, honor, and defense. As much as it wounded him to admit, he wasn't really doing anything to break out of his chains.
As long as people in powerful positions vied for power, fueled by their greed, wars would not stop. And people like him, bound by their oath, would have to kill people they had never t before. People with no personal enmity towards them. People with family.
He gripped the sword handle tightly, making up his mind. He had already sinned and would remain a sinner forever. His fate had been decided since birth. No matter what he did now, the fact would remain forever - he was a killer.
There was no escaping it. The attack on his house the previous night proved it. If so, he refused to back down, wallowing in regrets forever. He would embrace what he hated doing the most, in order to break through this chain of doom.
There was no redemption for him, no hope of leaving a peaceful life. But for the common people, living on lands untainted by the power struggles of rotten leaders, there was still hope. If not, he would beco one.
“I will kill you, General Mukasa”, he vowed.
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