Actually, um, I haven’t written anything, per say. I know, I know (!!!) it’s been two weeks, what’s wrong with me?
While I’m trying to work out the twists and turns of how I need to redirect this novel, I realize just how not in to intrigue I am. Why I even wrote a novel with intrigue is beyond me. I certainly didn’t mean to do it. And I knew I needed some help. BAD.
In these past two weeks I’ve read 10 mysteries. Mystery is not a genre that I’m drawn to. It’s okay and everything – but I like my books with super hot guys and lots of kissing. And Mysteries tend to have dead bodies. Hum.
I’ve enjoyed them, yes. But they were more for research than anything else. I found myself picking apart the “clues” as I read, figuring out “who-done-it” and discarding the red herrings. And now I feel more confident to work out my intrigue.