Every once in a while I wonder why I chose writing fiction as a hobby. It could have been anything. I do have some other hobbies too, you know. I enjoy cooking and martial arts and SCA heavy fighting--oh, and I recently got into home brewing. That's a lot of fun. But above all these things, the hardest of them is writing fiction. There are so many layers and aspects and opinions and expectations. Even when you think you've done everything right, your piece may come off as hackneyed and bland. And believe me, critics will tell you how they feel.
I've recently joined a creative writing forum, hoping that I can get a little feedback about my work. Actually I'm not really sure why I joined, I'd had a few glasses of wine when I signed up. Not the point. Hopefully networking with others will help my self confidence on this piece, for which I'd be most grateful.
I'm returning to work on chapter 9 where another group of villains have entered the scene. Vampires. The blood-sucking fiends themselves. No sparkling in daylight here thank you. I guess this book is almost turning out to be sort of a tour of the major supernatural creatures in the book. Which I of course plan on doing more with in future books.
Oh yeah, I ordered a cover for Lost Lamb on Fiverr yesterday. I'm a little nervous that I won't like it, but it's only costing me five bucks. I think I can handle it.
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