That stage called despair…

I’m on a new project, and…

mjc-writing in bed 2 -0682


… it’s making me sick with anxiety, crazy. In one week, I am flow, I pour out 12,000 words effortlessly. The next week—I know—I don’t just think, I know—they are all crap. Unreadable. Worthless. I spend a week crying. The following week, I salvage a third of what I wrote… Today… I know I need to throw it all out. It HAD to get written… but it is unreadable, cannot be read…



About mjanecolette

Writer. Reader. Angster. Reformed Bohemian (not). Author of the erotic romance Tell Me (Harper Collins, 2015), the erotic tragedy (with a happy ending) Consequences (of defensive adultery) (coming May 2 2017), and the rom-com (she's versatile) Cherry Pie Cure (releasing June 15, 2017), as well as the non-fiction collection of essays Rough Draft Confessions: not a guide to writing and selling erotica and romance but full of inside inside anyway (GENRES were made to be BROKEN, 2017). Closet poet. Currently torturing novels four, five, and six simultaneously. Which is not a good idea.

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