I thought I've fallen in love before. He was strong and sweet and sensitive, and we were young. Innocent. But he had problems - major problems - and talking to him was a drag. I had to force myself to continue conversations that were once long and winding and unrelenting in their beauty, and I tried to change him.
But it didn't work. Nothing worked.
And so at last, I was driven to put him in my closet and lock the door. He has suffocated.
He was my first real manuscript. The ones I've written between the ages 8 and 12 don't count. We, ah, we pretend they don't exist, in their 75-page glories. But we weren't made for each other. At last, I had to tell him, "I don't love you anymore!" and he accepted it.
Now, though, I have fallen in love again. This is all one, big, annoying metaphor for the fact that I've left Winter Child to collect dust because it simply wasn't working out and I had an urge to slaughter all my characters (even the hot one), and I began a new manuscript.
It has a working title. A bad working title, but I have to call it something. Are you ready? Don't laugh at me. No, seriously, don't laugh at me. Okay. Here goes. You're sure, right? It's not too late to scroll down a few paragraphs. All right, all right: Zombies and Other Unfortunate Circumstances.
ANYWAY we're going to forget I just told you that horrible title and move on *nervous giggle* *twitch* *twitch*.
Have you ever had to abandon a manuscript? How did you know it was time? Do you have an interesting love life? Er, I mean, why did you abandon it?