We’re half way there and to celebrate this monstrosity of self-promotion, silliness and smut a special surprise awaits you as you leave. No peeking!
To even out the silliness that was yesterday’s post I thought I’d give you all another glimpse into my world of crossed brain wires and brick walls. I hope this little window into my life doesn’t bore. It’s meant to encourage others in a similar situation and to enlighten those who are blessed not to know anything of which I speak. So here it goes –
My daily life is full of brick walls. Not just any ordinary brick walls either, but the kind that spring up out of literally nowhere and refuse to be torn down by prayer, explosive or tenacity. Let me give you an example…
One morning I wake up, get my sh*t together and head outside to my backyard deck with an orange juice in hand. I do it every day. I enjoy it, but I’ve never thought anything about it. Who would? Well, this one morning I put my hand on the knob of the back door and my mind simply refuses to allow me to turn it. There’s no explanation forthcoming from my head as to why I can no longer go out that door. I just simply can’t.
So like most of you, I tell myself “Just do it! Don’t think. You have to do it so do it.” Yeah, well, that doesn’t work. Next comes the logical approach, trying to think through the reasons why my mind might be balking about going out that door. Unfortunately I can find no reasons. Even when I’m able to perhaps catch a glimpse of a shadow of a possible reason to this stupidity, it doesn’t help. All the logic and common sense and coping mechanisms in the world doesn’t get that brick wall between me and the back door down. I’m literally, figuratively and physically stuck.
Yeah, I know. It sounds silly, ridiculous, funny even. But it’s not… at least not for the crazy girl on the wrong side of the brick wall. Sometimes when I’m standing there, I hate my mind – never my life but my mind I could really put a freaking beat down on my brain.
So what do I do, the curious reader might ask? Do I never go out my back door again? The answer is a painful “maybe.” Just as my brick walls are wont to pop up out of nowhere they occasionally start to crumble in their own inexplicable time.
Maybe in a few months, my brain will let me talk myself through that door.
Maybe it will be years.
Maybe it will be never.
So, the curious reader asks again, what do I do?
I go out the window.
I go in through the back gate.
I jump my fence with my orange juice in hand and spend my morning on my deck.
Simply, I find ways to get around the brick wall. I can’t tear it down but I am a darn good escape artist. I will usually get by it somehow. So pardon my scraped knuckles, my skinned knees, the spilled orange juice on my shirt. I’m just trying to live here. I’m just trying to get out that door.
Ok, on to the appropriately named sixth chapter of Hard Wood, Soft Heart…
Chapter Six: Dirty Little Secret
“The road was bumpy. Saul didn’t mention that though. He figured it was fairly obvious. Besides, he really didn’t want to engage the man. Mercer was driving. It was definitely an inappropriate moment to play vacuum cleaner and suck the man’s brains out through his cock like a straw…” (page 96)
Now, for your surprise! After suffering through me and my brick walls, you have definitely earned a sneak peek at the cover for my seventh novel! So once the thunderous applause has died down to an excited murmur, you can check it out here… http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=212132328851213&set=a.106121559452291.9606.100001633419040&&theater
On your way out please help yourself to a handful of M&M’s. I think we all need the chocolate after that touch of mortar and brick insanity.